Translation: Darkness 07 — Shinjuku Kabukichō Arc

2026/03/05 thu
闇07：翻訳Cloud

読みます。
Reading 闇07 source text

読みました。翻訳に入ります。
ファイルを作成しました, コマンドを実行しました, ファイルを読み取りました

闇07、完了です。
翻訳上の処理メモ：

特記箇所：

• 「電バリ」→ denhari / flyering on telephone poles — 業界用語なのでカタカナ読みと説明を併記。

• 「十円レート」→ ゲーム屋の仕組みを英語圏読者に伝わるよう丁寧に構造化。IN/OUTの概念も維持。

• 坊主さんのスピーチの「近親相姦」落ち→ 原文の間と笑いの構造をそのまま英語で再現。incest で直訳。笑いが成立する。

• 日本生命の「バームクーヘン」→ 括弧で日本の贈答文化として補足。怒りの場面の皮肉が伝わるように。

• 「幻魔大戦」「キースエマーソン」→ 作品背景を注釈で補足。岩上さんの少年時代の感覚が伝わるように。

• 武田のエピソード→ 理不尽さと岩上さんの苦笑いのトーンをできるだけ維持。

07章は漂流の章でした。居場所を探して、毎回何かが空回りして終わる。それでもスピーチは二回とも決める。そのアンバランスが岩上さんらしい。

Darkness 07 — Shinjuku Kabukichō Arc

 
*Kawagoe / Shinjuku, Tokyo. 1997. Age 24–25.*
 
My time at Asakusa View Hotel was over. Before Niigata's Green Plaza Jōetsu, I had briefly worked at Kawagoe Hikawa Kaikan（a wedding and events hall in Kawagoe）— and now I went back there for a short stint.
 
Banquet service work centered around wedding receptions is genuinely tedious.
I found myself feeling nostalgic for the irregular shifts at Belvedere.
I had finally started to build a place for myself there……
 
Former All Japan Pro Wrestling trainee, former bartender at Asakusa View Hotel.
People at Hikawa Kaikan treated me with a certain deference because of those two things.
But not everyone.
Among them was someone who took to picking fights with me for no reason.
 
"Hey, Iwakami! I don't care if you were a bartender or whatever — this is Hikawa Kaikan. Don't get too big for your boots."
 
He was slightly younger than me, with dyed brown hair.
I could understand getting reprimanded by someone who approached service work with professionalism and seriousness.
 
What is this flashy little punk?
On top of that, I hadn't made a single mistake.
However long he'd been there ahead of me — what was this kid strutting around about?
If you're going to work somewhere sacred like a wedding reception, dye your hair black first, I thought.
 
When my eyes sharpened, the people around me rushed in to stop things.
 
"Iwakami-san, easy, easy! And you — watch how you talk to someone older than you, you idiot."
 
This kid — wasn't he from around here?
If he knew who I was, there shouldn't be a single person who'd pick a fight with me.
 
He stopped in front of others, but whenever the two of us were alone he would still needle me in that grinding way.
Once I confirmed no one was around, I knocked him flat.
 
"Hey, kid. Who do you think you're talking to? If you want a fight, I'll give you all you want."
 
The difference in strength was obvious.
One restrained hit was enough to quiet him, and I didn't follow up further.
But apparently the kid quit and reported me.
Accused of using violence, I found the whole thing too tiresome and quit Hikawa Kaikan.
 
Unemployed again, I was introduced to a man named Matsunawa through someone in the catering business.
He was the manager of a place called Club Godai（Fifth Dimension）.
He asked me to come in for a few days because he wanted to run a cocktail fair as a special event.
 
A club is essentially the upscale version of a snack bar — slightly more high-end in its positioning.
 
Maybe the higher hourly rate means the women there are better too.
Apparently club hostesses are expected to study and improve their conversation skills constantly.
 
That was all I knew about club hostesses — knowledge from when I was in elementary school.
Armed with nothing but old memories and vague expectations, I headed to Godai.
 
A funny coincidence happened there.
The head priest of Naritasan Kawagoe Betsuin（a branch temple of Naritasan Shinshoji, one of the major Buddhist temples in Kawagoe）, a man named Hirai-san, came in as a customer.
 
In my high school part-time job at Yamaguchi Yuzai（an oil supply company）, I had worked alongside a monk named Arihara Shōryū.
He had been doing the unusual combination of practicing as a monk at Naritasan while also part-timing at Yamaguchi Yuzai — that was how I had gotten to know people there, and I used to visit Kawagoe Betsuin regularly back then.
 
Hirai-san had no idea I was working here.
 
One of the club hostesses coaxed him — "It's cocktail fair night, I'd love to try one" — and the order came in.
 
"Thank you for waiting. A Nikolaschka（a brandy-based cocktail of German origin, unusual in its drinking method）and a Skydiving（a cocktail made with vodka, blue curaçao, and lime juice）."
 
I brought them to the table. They clinked glasses cheerfully and didn't seem to notice me.
Hirai-san could have chosen a better hostess to sit with.
This one had been on the phone with her boyfriend openly before the customers arrived — that kind of person.
 
I leaned down and murmured in his ear: "It's been a long time, Hirai-san."
He startled, looked at me, and went flustered: "What — why are you here?"
 
I explained that I had quit the View Hotel and was helping out here for a few days.
He jabbed a finger at me: "Don't go saying anything unnecessary at the temple" — and I went back to the kitchen.
 
The hostess sitting with Hirai-san came over with an irritated face, holding the Nikolaschka.
 
"Can I get more lemon?"
 
Her tone was sharp with impatience.
 
She ordered the Nikolaschka herself and now she wants more lemon?
It made no sense to me.
 
A Nikolaschka is unusual even among cocktails. You pour brandy into a shot glass, place a slice of lemon on top, and heap sugar over it with a jigger.
The drinking method is equally unusual: first you throw the lemon and sugar into your mouth, then chase it immediately with the brandy.
You mix everything together inside your mouth as you drink it — it's sometimes called a sidecar made in your mouth.
 
The fact that she ordered a Nikolaschka instead of a Sidecar（a classic cocktail made with cognac, triple sec, and lemon juice）meant she surely knew the drinking method.
In my understanding, anyone working at a club was expected to know at least that much as a matter of course.
 
Puzzled, I asked: "Why do you need more lemon?"
 
"I can't drink this the way it is! Just get me the lemon!"
 
This club hostess had ordered a drink without even knowing how to drink it.
 
I had spent years devoted to the world of alcohol and studied it intensely.
With pride in my profession as a bartender.
 
"You ordered a Nikolaschka without knowing how to drink it?"
 
"Someone else is paying anyway, so I just ordered whatever. Hurry up with the lemon."
 
I could understand it from a snack bar hostess.
But this woman was being paid more, refusing to acknowledge her own lack of knowledge, and using a customer's money to experiment with orders.
An insult to alcohol and a contempt for the customer.
 
Taking good money for herself while treating the customer like this — she was making a complete mockery of service work.
 
"Don't mess around."
 
It turned into an argument between the hostess and me.
The mama（the owner-manager of a club or snack bar）came flying over and stepped between us.
 
I explained the situation and she told me: "This is a hostess-centered establishment. You're fired — you can go."
 
I had only come to make cocktails as a favor.
I wasn't her employee or anything of the sort.
I cut my losses and left.
 
Maybe by nature I'm better suited to working in one fixed place.
Working in a different environment every time — here today, somewhere else tomorrow — is exhausting.
 
I regretted turning down the section transfer at Asakusa View Hotel and quitting, but it was too late now.
 
I had no intention of living the kind of life where unemployment meant struggling to eat.
Dissatisfied with my situation but needing to work somehow.
 
However, Fueki from Nippon Life, who I had contracted with during the hotel days, had given me his word that the insurance benefit would definitely come through, and I even had the diagnosis paperwork done.
I spent my days optimistically thinking the money would come in soon.
 
Half a year passed since leaving the hotel.
 
Still not a word from Nippon Life, which had insisted the benefit would definitely be paid.
All that was happening was the monthly premium being deducted.
I finally got in touch.
 
A few days later they came — Fueki bringing along some female manager — and told me the benefit had been denied after review.
I pushed back: I had initially told them I didn't need the benefit because it would look like I had engineered the hospitalization, and they had insisted it would definitely be paid out and forced me to take two days off for a diagnosis. Now they were saying it wasn't coming?
 
All I got was an apology and a Baumkuchen（a German-style layered cake, commonly given as a gift in Japan）.
I threw the Baumkuchen aside in fury.
 
"Iwakami-san, please don't let this put you off and continue to use Nippon Life in the future……"
"Don't mess with me — this is just fraud! You take my money, you tell me the hospitalization benefit will definitely be paid, you make me go through a diagnosis and a medical questionnaire — and then when it comes to it, the review says no? Don't give me that!"
 
"We deeply understand how you feel, but please don't let this put you off and continue to use Nippon Life in the future."
"Do you have maggots in your brain? After being defrauded like this, of course I'm not coming back. I'm cancelling. Don't be ridiculous."
 
I made it absolutely clear — I was terminating the contract because I could not trust them.
 
A few months after that, something outrageous happened.
I had two mobile phones — an IDO and a DOCOMO.
To avoid confusion with direct debits, I had separated them: DOCOMO and Nippon Life premiums from one bank account, IDO and other payments from another.
 
I was certain I had put in enough to cover the deductions, but one day my DOCOMO phone was cut off.
 
When I contacted them I was told the deduction amount had been insufficient.
I had put money in and it still wasn't enough?
Before long DOCOMO issued a forced cancellation.
 
Looking into it, it turned out that Nippon Life — which I had supposedly cancelled — had been quietly deducting premiums every month.
When I complained, they had the nerve to say they hoped I would continue my relationship with Nippon Life — at which point I told them I would take them to court.
 
Fueki from Nippon Life did eventually transfer back the money they had taken after I threatened legal action, but the fact that I had lost my DOCOMO phone was irreversible.
 
So this is how insurance companies make enough money to run TV commercials, I thought. By deceiving people.
 
Well, I still had the IDO, so that was fine.
DOCOMO had been Takeda's doing in the first place — he had insisted I sign up for it and pushed me into it.
If I hadn't listened to him it wouldn't have come to this.
 
What's done is done — but I was the fool for signing up without thinking it through.
Fools in every era are just there to be squeezed dry by the world.
 
I still couldn't find a place where I belonged.
 
What I had really wanted was to be fighting in that ring — the ring of All Japan Pro Wrestling.
 
That infuriating bone jutting out from my left elbow.
Why had I let my guard down and shown off during that sparring session?
 
If only I had used the Datotsu……
 
No — used it and then what?
Could I have faced Tsuruta-shishō with that?
 
I was already twenty-four.
Two years had passed since then.
 
Still clinging pathetically to memories of my All Japan Pro Wrestling days — that was the only way I knew to comfort myself.
 
When I had been at the View Hotel, I had never thought about any of this.
Maybe people are happier when they have somewhere to work and their days are reasonably busy.
 
While I was sinking in that dark, idle life, Bōzu-san and Yūko-san contacted me and invited me to come visit them in Shin-Maruko.
Yūko-san was one year older than me and a genuinely kind woman.
We had met a few times and she always looked out for me — I thought Bōzu-san had found someone wonderful, and I could celebrate them from the heart.
 
Apparently they had been working at the same computer company and before they knew it they had ended up together.
 
I went to stay over in Shin-Maruko for a change of scenery.
 
Around this time Bōzu-san was absorbed in a Super Famicom（Super Nintendo）game called Kamaitachi no Yoru（Banshee's Last Cry, a visual novel mystery game）and had multiple pages of flowcharts pinned to his walls.
As thanks for letting me stay, I made my specialty — tomato sauce pasta — and Yūko-san was genuinely delighted.
 
With nothing to do, I spent my idle hours at a game center called Monaco（Monako）in Kurea Mall（Kureamoto）shopping street.
Kanda-san, a senior I had come to know through Takeda, worked there as the manager.
 
Kind Kanda-san never stopped smiling.
When his shift ended we would often go eat together and talk about all kinds of things.
 
"I'm older, so let me treat you here."
 
He would insist on paying and I could never argue with that.
The complete opposite personality from our mutual senior Takeda.
 
When I got home there was a missed call from Takeda.
 
"……"
 
I remembered the tiresome Takeda episode from when I was nineteen.
 
"Tomo! The other day I went to a game center in Kamifukuoka（a city in Saitama Prefecture）and some delinquents started messing with me. I told them your name and they said 'who's that?' like they owned the place. When are you coming back to Kawagoe from Yokohama? You coming here every Sunday or what?"
 
The simple-minded person I was back then reacted to the word "disrespected" in the face of Takeda's unreasonable complaint.
On my next day off I came back from Kanazawa Hakkei（a neighborhood in Yokohama）to Kawagoe, met up with Takeda, and headed to Kamifukuoka.
 
I walked into the game center looking forward to seeing what kind of cocky guys these were.
There were five delinquents standing there, carefully avoiding eye contact.
 
"Hey, you. I brought Tomo — what's with the silence?"
 
"……"
 
Not one word out of any of them.
I genuinely wondered if these were really the guys who had said all that.
 
"Tomo, say something to these guys."
 
Takeda was being loud about it so I reluctantly went over.
I asked the same question and got: "I never said that!" — a flat denial.
 
"Let's just leave it. Come on."
 
I was exasperated — coming all this way from Yokohama for this — and called it.
At which point Takeda suddenly started hitting one of the silent, unresisting delinquents: "You said it, didn't you?"
 
"What are you doing?! They're not even fighting back. Let's stop this."
"They really did say it, Tomo. Let go of me!"
 
"Maybe they did say something — but right now they're not resisting. So let's stop."
 
I had let this idiot's story drag me all the way from Yokohama, and now I was the one breaking up the fight……
 
Something I realized later: even if there really had been some kind of argument, would someone normally drop the name of a guy two years younger from another part of town?
 
Seeing this side of him, I gradually started putting distance between myself and Takeda.
 
I let the phone ring until it stopped.
He was technically a senior, and also a classmate of Wa-chan's and Bōzu-san.
 
I felt a creeping sense of gloom — what a tiresome person I had gotten mixed up with.
 
No matter what part-time job I tried, nothing stuck.
 
I turned twenty-five, and still nothing had changed — still drifting, incomplete.
Where had I buttoned things up wrong?
 
In the middle of all that, Bōzu-san and Yūko-san announced they were getting married.
They asked me to give the friend's representative speech at the reception as well.
 
I wanted to give a generous wedding gift, but right now I didn't have that kind of money.
I had no idea what to do.
 
To escape reality I wandered around Kawagoe, got hungry, and went to a Western-style restaurant near Kawagoe Station's west exit called Grill Kitchen TOGO（a beloved local diner in Kawagoe, later closed in July 2017）.
 
I loved the master's miso-grilled chicken — the kind of place you visit regularly.
He seemed most proud of his hamburger steak, but on that point I firmly disagreed.
 
While waiting for my food, I was flipping through the Tōspo（Tokyo Sports, a tabloid newspaper known for wrestling and entertainment coverage）when something caught my eye.
 
"Café Help Wanted　¥12,000　Shinjuku"
 
¥12,000 — that means twelve thousand yen a shift, right?
You could earn that much working at a café?
 
And it wasn't just one or two listings.
There were this many late-night cafés in Shinjuku?
 
I had sharpened my hospitality skills at Asakusa View Hotel and studied hard about alcohol — and right now none of that was being used at all.
 
Shinjuku was a part of Tokyo I had never been to, but late-night cafés must draw crowds of people.
If I worked there and could find a way to put my cocktail skills to use……
 
A small spark of an idea.
Right — work at a late-night café, showcase cocktails, and gradually establish my own position there.
Actually, that might work.
 
I noted down the phone numbers from the listings and called right away.
A few places turned me down for being twenty-five, but a place called Vega（named after the star, the brightest in the constellation Lyra）set up an interview date immediately.
 
From Hon-Kawagoe Station on the Seibu Shinjuku Line, one train all the way to Seibu-Shinjuku Station.
Reachable in under an hour.
 
Vega — the same name as a character from Genma Wars（Harmagedon: Genma Wars, a 1983 anime film promoted as Kadokawa's first animated feature）, that anime film Kadokawa promoted as their first animated production back when I was in sixth grade.
I remembered watching it on TV with my younger brother Tetsuya and us saying excitedly: "That music is so cool, isn't it?"
 
I had always wished I could have walked in to the film's insert song — Keith Emerson's（a British rock keyboardist, member of Emerson, Lake & Palmer）theme for those who protect the Earth……
 
I still had regrets about pro wrestling.
That world that had ended halfway through.
 
Master Jumbo Tsuruta had been hospitalized with an internal illness after that and stepped back from the front line.
 
I clenched my right fist and extended my thumb sideways.
The Datotsu I had trained all this time — still dangling, without ever having a proper use.
 
Why does my life always end up like this?
Lost in those thoughts, the train arrived at Seibu-Shinjuku.
 
The meeting point was in front of Koma Theater（a famous entertainment venue in Kabukichō, Shinjuku, demolished in 2008）.
My first time in Shinjuku, so I had no idea where Koma Theater even was.
 
Even so, Kabukichō was packed — an enormous crowd of people.
Too embarrassed to ask for directions, I wandered the streets for a while.
 
The interview time was approaching.
I finally asked a passerby, and it turned out Koma Theater was the building right in front of me.
 
I stood there spacing out for a while, when someone suddenly grabbed my shoulder from behind.
Reflexively I grabbed their wrist and twisted the joint.
 
A man with a wild perm cried out in pain.
Since it had been a reflex I apologized immediately — and it turned out to be the very person who was supposed to interview me.
 
I thought I had ruined everything right at the start, but what was done was done.
After being thoroughly berated, I followed him with my tail between my legs.
 
The shop was two side streets over from Koma Theater, but by any measure it looked like an apartment building.
On the outside wall, only the words "4th NK Building" were posted.
 
A café — here?
Puzzled but pressing on, I climbed the stairs.
 
On the second floor, ten Space Invaders-style table arcade machines were set up in two rows — the kind that were popular in cafés back in the day.
 
What is this place……
 
Inside, a man with slicked-back hair stood up smiling and introduced himself: "I'm Naruto."
The wild-permed man who had come to meet me was Unno.
Apparently this was a jointly managed operation between the two of them.
 
Unno, whose arm I had twisted, was still irritated: "Let's not hire this one."
Naruto looked silently at my résumé.
 
"Iwakami-kun, you were at All Japan?"
 
He asked with barely concealed excitement.
I explained my incomplete history up to now, and Naruto said with odd admiration: "Pro wrestling to hotel work. You're a very interesting person."
 
Overriding Unno's objections, he told me to start the next day.
And as I was leaving, he handed me a 10,000-yen note: "For your travel expenses."
 
This was clearly not a café.
It was a suspicious establishment — but Bōzu-san's wedding was approaching.
To earn money, I decided to start my life in Shinjuku Kabukichō the next day.
 
Although they called it a joint management, it was clear from the power dynamic that Naruto outranked the shady Unno.
 
Working one day would earn 12,000 yen.
And it was daily pay.
 
In my current situation, beggars can't be choosers — I had no choice but to swallow it and work.
At the very least until I had enough to give Bōzu-san and Yūko-san a proper wedding gift.
 
Still — what were those table machines?
 
Not Space Invaders — the screens were showing what looked like a card poker game.
On the wall, a menu listing coffee and cola and such was posted.
 
Carrying a flicker of unease, I would be heading back to Shinjuku tomorrow.
Staring at the 10,000-yen note in my hand, the train arrived in Kawagoe.
 
First day on the job.
 
I wore a dress shirt, tie, and suit trousers.
My personal wardrobe had always been nothing but training gear and suits, so at least there was no extra expense.
 
Hours: 10 PM to 10 AM. Twelve hours.
 
Besides me, the only staff was a supervisor named Yonaga.
Just two employees……
 
This establishment — less a café, more what the industry calls a game café or game parlor — appeared to be essentially a gambling den where customers exchanged real money for credits and played the poker machines in front of them.
Since there were no customers, Yonaga patiently explained everything to me.
 
When I mentioned that I had assumed this was a late-night café and had been hoping to make cocktails and liven the place up once I got settled, he burst out laughing: "There isn't a single person like that in all of Kabukichō. You really are something else, Iwakami-kun."
That day ended with not a single customer, just a long conversation with Yonaga.
 
Was it really acceptable to receive 12,000 yen for something like this?
I felt guilty, but without much financial breathing room I accepted the daily pay without argument.
 
Even in my Asakusa View Hotel days I had sensed it, but I must be a natural night owl by disposition.
The working hours — night through to morning — didn't bother me at all.
 
The pay wasn't much different from the hotel, but for work this casual I had some anxiety about whether it was really all right.
 
Café Vega was apparently what was known in the industry as a ten-yen-rate game parlor — one credit equaled ten yen.
 
Put in 5,000 yen and you had 500 credits.
10,000 yen got you 1,000.
 
The machines on offer were five units of Fever Pack and five units of Lucky Full（both were video poker-style gambling machines common in illegal game parlors of the era）.
Complete gibberish to me, but Yonaga just laughed and said: "You're new so it's natural you don't understand — you'll learn it whether you want to or not."
 
Since customers basically didn't come, the main task was what they called denhari — flyering on telephone poles — to keep the owners happy.
An A4 sheet with the shop name Vega and a ten-yen coin symbol printed on it, along with a simple map to the shop.
You stuck strong double-sided tape to the top and bottom of the back, and then went around posting them on utility poles.
 
This could only be done when Unno or Naruto were in the shop.
Because there were only two staff on each shift — early and late.
 
Since there was a risk of arrest if police spotted you, flyering was always done in pairs.
One person stuck the flyers to the poles while the other kept watch for any officers nearby.
 
Even if it was for the money, I felt myself getting grubby by degrees.
 
Yonaga, always smiling, was easy to work with.
He was two years older than me but never acted superior about it, which I appreciated.
And he patiently taught me things I had no idea about.
 
The work itself was simple — serve the occasional customer who came in, and when they left, give the table a quick wipe-down.
 
A game parlor always ran what they called a first-visit service every day.
Put in 10,000 yen and you would receive a bonus of 10,000 in service credits, starting with 2,000 credits.
The catch was that you couldn't cash out until the credits reached double that — 4,000.
 
Putting money in was called IN.
Converting credits back to money was called OUT.
 
I gradually learned the basics of how it worked.
 
Other than that, the job amounted to going to the 24-hour supermarket Any（Enī）two streets over on Higashi-dōri to restock drinks whenever supplies ran low.
 
A little over a week into working in Kabukichō, Bōzu-san's wedding came.
 
I got the day off and attended.
Thanks to that game parlor I had enough for a proper gift.
That much I had to be grateful for.
 
At the reception I was seated with local seniors — Takeda, Akiyama-san, and Kanda-san at the same table.
Across from us sat my cousin Wa-chan, two years older, and her friends — all classmates of Bōzu-san.
 
Takeda had forced his fiancée into a seat at the table uninvited.
Two seats, two meals, one gift from Takeda.
Don't you know that receptions charge by the head — seats and food and all?
This man truly has no common sense.
I kept those thoughts to myself as the reception moved on.
 
Takeda pushed himself forward to give the friend's representative speech.
 
"Bōzu! Congratulations today, really. Hey — come over here too."
 
Takeda called his fiancée up to stand beside him during the speech.
 
"We'll be following right behind you two!"
 
Watching from a distance, I could feel the room going flat.
 
This is Bōzu-san's wedding day.
I felt a quiet frustration.
 
Then came my turn for the friend's representative speech.
Nervous, but I stood before the crowd and celebrated Bōzu-san and Yūko-san from the heart.
 
"Today, Hijikatasat Satoshi and Mogami Yūko are joined in marriage here. For me, he has been like an older brother, and Yūko-san will now be like an older sister to me as well. Hmm? Brother and sister…… that would make this incest, wouldn't it……"
 
The room burst out laughing.
 
"That came out a bit contradictory, but please allow me to say it anyway. Bōzu-san, Yūko-san! No — Nii-san, Nee-san! Congratulations on your marriage today, from the bottom of my heart!"
 
I bowed deeply and the room erupted in applause.
 
The tension I had felt standing before President Giant Baba.
Compared to that, I had learned to face most situations with a certain composure.
Having done this once before at Shibazaki Yoshiaki's reception helped as well.
 
The venue was a hotel with a view of Disneyland（Tokyo Disneyland, in Urayasu, Chiba）, and the reception ended without incident.
Everyone but me was steadily moving forward with their lives.
 
Out of nowhere, Takeda announced that he and his girlfriend would be staying at the same hotel as Bōzu-san and the others.
 
The plan for the next day was that Bōzu-san and Yūko-san — at Yūko-san's wish — would spend the day at Disneyland.
And now Takeda announced he and his girlfriend were joining them.
 
Good-natured Bōzu-san and Yūko-san wouldn't be able to say no — but Takeda, couldn't you read the room even a little?
This is one of the most important days of a person's life.
 
"Tomo — Kanda and Akiyama too, come take a look at our room."
 
Takeda, as oblivious as ever.
He just wanted to show us the room he was staying in and boast.
 
With the last train to worry about, as I was leaving I said to Takeda's girlfriend: "Enjoy the rest of the evening, just the two of you" — and headed home.
 
On the train back it was just the three of us — me, Kanda-san, and Akiyama-san — exchanging complaints about Takeda all the way.
We laughed together: in a way, being able to think only of yourself like that must be its own kind of happiness.
 
"Since we're here, want to come over and play Fire Pro Wrestling（Fire Pro Wrestling, a professional wrestling simulation game series for Sega Saturn）on the Saturn?"
 
I was deep into Fire Pro Wrestling — Fire Pro for short — on my home Sega Saturn at the time.
 
Kanda-san and Akiyama-san were close enough that you'd think they were a comedy duo.
Even though I had met them through Takeda, they were both kind seniors and I had gone out for meals with each of them privately a few times.
 
Yes — spending time with calm, steady people like these was genuinely restful.
 
The next day Takeda called, furious, and unleashed it all on me.
 
When I asked why he was so angry, he said my parting words — "enjoy the rest of the evening, just the two of you" — had created an awkward atmosphere with his girlfriend, and she had been in a bad mood for the entire Disneyland trip the next day.
 
I heard this later, but apparently Yūko-san and the others had spent the whole time trying not to upset Takeda's girlfriend — so he managed to cast a shadow over Bōzu-san's wedding all the way to the end.
 
Around this point I reached a decisive distance from Takeda over our completely incompatible values.
 
Ten days into working in Kabukichō.
Vega remained as quiet as ever.
 
During a shift, Unno came into the shop and called Yonaga outside.
In less than thirty minutes Yonaga came back looking unhappy and said only: "Iwakami-kun, I'm done here. If our paths cross again sometime." Then he walked out of the shop.
 
I had no idea what had happened.
 
When I asked Unno for an explanation he said Yonaga had been fired for not bringing in customers.
I said that by that logic I was contributing even less to the shop — at which point Unno said: "The type you are is rare. You're serious. Naruto thinks very highly of you as well."
 
I still didn't even understand the basics of how a game parlor worked.
Of course I had no one I could bring in as customers.
Just being called serious — I genuinely couldn't understand what they saw in that.
 
I would never work with Yonaga again.
He was the first person who had looked out for me when I came to Kabukichō, and it left me with a helpless, hollow feeling.
 
I was told that from the next day a new person would be coming in, and that I would be switching to the early shift after a half-day gap.
The hours would flip completely — 10 AM to 10 PM.
 
As a natural night person the thought of it felt complicated, but I was just a hired hand with no money — no position to complain about anything the shop decided.
 
Starting tomorrow morning at ten, I would be paired with the shop's head manager, Takahashi Hiroshi, on early shift.
It was what the shop had decided.