PART 2
The following day, lunch break. Kusuhara made his way to the old file room. He was going to return the dojo key.
There had been a key hanging by the side of the entrance, and after he had locked up he kept it for a night. And this morning, he went to the general affairs division before the beginning of work, but--
"Oh, this is Zenjoh-san"s key." The clerk, a middle-aged woman, told him.
When he asked, he learned that in addition to the regular dojo key that this division kept, Zenjoh had his own copy. They made an exception and let him have it since he often trained at night.
"It"s the, uh… Storage? File room? At the end of the first floor in the west building. Yeah, the one that"s not being used… He"s there during the day. Go give it to him."
"Ah, yes. Alright… Thank you."
-- So he"s a part of internal affairs… Kusuhara thought as he nodded his head to the clerk.
Yesterday he had called himself "the person in charge of storage," but he had thought it was most certainly a joke he had made for the conversation.
In the fighting organization of Scepter 4, there were the combat troops that he was a part of, as well as the internal divisions that focused on support work. It was easy to tell what division someone belonged to with a single glance. One could say that their type was completely different. The fearless young people walking around with swords at their uniformed waists and chests puffed out were the former. The women and middle aged men who seemed more like regular citizens were the latter.
No matter how he looked at it, the man he had met yesterday looked like he belonged to this side - he seemed to have much more of a militant presence than a new recruit like himself. So then why was he in internal affairs?
-- It"s probably because of his arm.
He lost an arm in a battle in the past and pulled back a line - that sort of thinking made sense. But--
Even if he was one-armed, he was so strong that he wouldn"t lose even if he was surrounded. No, his strength probably far surpa.s.sed even that of the top cla.s.s of the sword troops, and was almost close enough to that of Director Munakata"s.
-- Why was someone like him put in internal affairs? Maybe it has something to do with his will? Like, "I"ve had enough of this ruffianism!" Or something… But he was actually training… Well, that may have just been practice, but…
Those questions were tucked away in a corner of his mind during morning practice.
Then, when it came time for noon break, Kusuhara took the key from his locker and headed towards the file room in question.
Since he had seen him through the window yesterday he had a general idea of the location, but as they kept building onto the barracks there were some maze-like hallways, and he wandered around quite a bit in confusion. If he didn"t finish fast, he might not be able to have lunch.
Finally, at the end of a dark hallway in need of repairs, Kusuhara knocked on a door marked by an old plate that had "file room" handwritten on it.
"h.e.l.lo?" He called into the room and took a step back, bracing himself.
-- He"s not going to suddenly cut me down or something, is he…?
After a while, the door opened, and Zenjoh poked his head out.
"…Come in."
-- Huh?
Body still braced, Kusuhara made a disappointed face.
-- Was he always this small?
No, he definitely wasn"t small. The stature and breadth of this man"s shoulders almost seemed like they would get caught in the door frame - a physique almost as large as a door. From a regular perspective, he was nothing but a giant.
But when he saw him last night, he definitely thought he was much bigger. His intimidating air was vivid in his memory. Even when he was sitting, it was almost as if he had to look up to see him…
-- No, no, that"s not possible. That would almost be like a giant Buddha statue. Kusuhara shook his head lightly, correcting himself. Since he"d felt Zenjoh"s drive last night while he was practicing in a relatively empty dojo, a "big" and "strong" impression had thoughtlessly engraved itself into his heart - that was probably what it was.
"Ah, you"re… Kusuhara-kun, from yesterday."
"Yes. Kusuhara Takeru." Kusuhara straightened himself and bowed. Zenjoh gave a pleasant smile and bowed back, and he took out the key from his pocket. "Um… This is the dojo key. I was told to return this to you, Zenjoh-san."
Zenjoh-san.
He wasn"t sure of his rank or work and wasn"t sure what to call him, so he asked general affairs ahead of time. Formally, he"s the "director" of the "general affairs division file room,"[1] but in Scepter 4 a "director" would mean Director Munakata. That gets complicated, so everyone just calls him Zenjoh-san without the t.i.tle.
But--
-- Nevermind people that know him already, I hope a newbie like me isn"t offending him by suddenly being familiar with him and calling him "-san."Kusuhara thought, peeking a bit nervously at Zenjoh.
"Ah, thanks. Sorry for having you do this." As a half-smile appeared on his cheeks, Zenjoh held out his right hand. His palm was like a stone, with hardened, scraggy blisters.
-- Wow, what an incredible hand… He was unwittingly staring as he placed the key in his palm, and--
"It"s dirty, huh?" Zenjoh gave a wry smile, putting the key away into his pocket.
"Ah, no, I"m sorry… Goodbye." Kusuhara bowed and turned to leave, but--
"Oh, Kusuhara-kun."
The voice from behind stopped him.
"Yes?" He turned around,
"…Kusuhara-kun, do you have a moment?"
†
"The computer"s been acting up since this morning… I was wondering if you could take a look at it?" said Zenjoh, who seemed to somehow shrink a little.
"Hah, a… computer?"
"No?" Zenjoh became another size smaller. "Since you"re young, I figured you"d be pretty good with machines, but…"
"No, I"m not that good, but …a PC, right?"
Kusuhara scratched his head, but--
-- If he"s acting this way… Then maybe I"m better for this than him, he thought. Even in the sword troops they had a lot of work that used computers, and he also had his own personal one, though it was cheap.
"I"ll take a look… Where is it?"
"Yeah, thanks." Zenjoh relaxed his shoulders a little bit.
And then - the back of Zenjoh leading him, and the wall of lockers on both sides. These three things filling his vision, Kusuhara was led further into the file room. It actually only lasted a few seconds, but it felt terribly long to him. It seemed that whenever this person was in front of him, not only his sense of size, but his sense of time was warped, too.
Zenjoh suddenly stepped to the side, and the front of him grew bright. Next to the opened window was a single desk, buried under the piles of doc.u.ments. But there was nothing that looked like a PC on the desk or even on the cabinets around it. When Kusuhara looked around, Zenjoh pointed to the top of the desk with his right hand.
"This is it…"
"Eh… This is the PC?"
What was in front of him differed greatly from the "PC" he had imagined. Basically it wasn"t a thin, folding kind of laptop-- On top of a big, flat box-shaped CPU was a cathode-ray tube monitor almost the size of a small TV. And then, a full size corded keyboard. They both seemed to originally be a cream color, but were now sooted by the sun and heavy use.
"…Ah, one of these…" Kusuhara said without thinking, and Zenjoh responded with a gentle expression.
"Yeah. It seems to be pretty old…"
"…It"s making some sort of weird noise."
"Yeah."
They held their breath and listened closely. The old computer CPU was making agitating boop boop, krrk krrk noises.
"It"s been like this ever since I turned it on this morning. I can"t do anything."
"Hah…"
A blurred line of white letters was displayed on black. Kusuhara drew his face closer to the monitor. "Umm… Ope…ra…tion?"
Then, Zenjoh turned around and, "…It says something like, "Unable to find OS," doesn"t it?"
"I wonder what that is?"
"Eh?"
Now that he thought about it, he didn"t really know. Looking up at the ceiling, Kusuhara spoke. "Um… Some sort of really important thing that"s in the computer"s program… or something."
"Important, huh?"
"Yes… I think."
"And we"re in trouble without it?"
"…Yes."
"Hm…" Zenjoh gave a stern look and scratched his chin. "…What should we do?"
They froze just like that, like statues. After an awkward two or three seconds pa.s.sed--
"…Um, I can go get someone who might know."
"…Please." Zenjoh said without moving an inch, when--
"Heeey! Takeee! Takeruuu!" A loud voice interrupted them from outside the window. He saw a group of troops in blue gathering on the grounds. The voice belonged to Hidaka, who was waving both his saber and sheath over his head.
"The h.e.l.l are you lazing around over there for? Afternoon lesson"s starting!"
"Ah!! R-Right!" Kusuhara looked around in a fl.u.s.tered manner at the window, the monitor, then back to Zenjoh.
"…Sorry. Go on." Zenjoh said, and pointed to the huge window where he could exit directly onto the grounds, but… it seemed rather unreliable.
"Excuse me!" Kusuhara bowed his head and ran off, turning back to the window.
"I"ll come back after dismissal!"
†
Since he had missed out on lunch, afternoon practice was tough, but he somehow managed to finish alright. When they were cutting across the grounds bathed in dusk, the west building became a dark wall that blocked the setting sun.
The light wasn"t on in the first floor general affairs file room. Zenjoh might have already left for the day.
-- Of course. He could"ve asked someone else, not me.
But upon closer inspection, the window facing the grounds was open. As he neared, he thought he might"ve gone home without locking up for the day like he did yesterday at the dojo, but--
"--Wah! He"s still there!" Kusuhara raised his voice.
In the dim room, Zenjoh sat unmoving at the desk by the window, staring at the PC making strange noises.
"Mm… Oh, Kusuhara-kun. You"ve come." Zenjoh lifted his head. It seemed that he"d been waiting for Kusuhara the entire time.
-- He should"ve called for someone else… It was hard to say that now, so he decided not to and--
"I"m sorry I"m late." Kushara nodded his head. "…Um, I"ve brought someone who might know."
Two troop members stepped forward from behind him. First, a young man in gla.s.ses who had his long hair tied at the nape of his neck stood up straight and bowed.
"Enomoto Tatsuya, swordsmen division troops, fourth squad."
And then, "Same, Hidaka! Div four!" Hidaka gave a big wave of his hand over his head.
Then they entered the room through the window, and, "--Oohhh!?" When Enomoto, who had been calm up until this moment, saw the computer in question, he gave a shriek. "A P7… This is a PCRX-78! It"s a machine from about twenty years ago. This is a legacy… No, this is a vintage now!"
Kusuhara flinched at Enomoto, who rushed to the CPU and watched it intimately, and Hidaka hit his back.
"Didn"t I tell you? This guy"s a nerd."
Enomoto pretended not to hear and stuck his head behind the monitor, and checked the wiring and model number. "Oh!! It"s even a G3 type! The drive shaft on this has magnetic coating!”
"Uh huh… I see." Zenjoh responded, overwhelmed.
"I dunno man, whatever." Hidaka waved it off lightly. "…So? Can you fix it or not?"
Enomoto lifted his head. "Eh, fix…? Oh, this cranking sound? This is… look." He operated a b.u.t.ton and lever on the CPU, and pulled out a square board about the size of his palm. And then, the strange noises simply stopped. With a short electronic sound the PC restarted, and the startup processes began to be displayed on the screen.
"…You fixed it." Zenjoh murmured.
"Eh… What did you just do?" Kusuhara asked.
"This wasn"t a malfunction or anything like that--" Enomoto answered with a smile and faced Zenjoh, waving the board he had just pulled out. "Zenjoh-san. Did you forget to take this floppy out?"
"Hm… Perhaps." Zenjoh nodded meekly.
"If you turn it on with a floppy in the A drive, the machine recognizes it as the startup disk and tries to bring up the OS. So if it"s just a regular data disk, it"ll keep looking for a nonexistent OS. Well, for machines from that time, it"s a typical problem." Enomoto explained.
"Oh, I see. The OS, huh." Zenjoh nodded again. "I don"t really understand, but… I thought it was completely broken."
"Yes, I"m glad it wasn"t anything major."
When he said that, Kusuhara"s stomach growled.
"Ah, I"m sorry…" He blushed, and Hidaka hit his back.
"Hahah, his stomach"s been growling like crazy since noon! …Eno! Hey, Eno! That"s enough!"
"…Mm… Just a little longer." Enomoto gave a noncommittal response as he played with the PC, and Hidaka hit the back of his head.
"Let"s go get food. Food!"
And--
"Ah, I haven"t eaten lunch yet, either." Zenjoh slowly stepped further into the room. "If it"s all right… I can go put on some soba."
"Ah… soba?" Kusuhara looked at Hidaka and Enomoto, and--
"Oh, yeah! That sounds great!"
Hidaka raised his hand up high.
†
It was unclear as to what it used to be used for, but there was a small kitchen in the general affairs file room. So Zenjoh wouldn"t go to the cafeteria, but would often make simple meals here.
"I can really only boil water… But I like soba, so I make it a lot."
There wasn"t a decent table in the room, and after putting the platter[2] of soba, condiments and Zenjoh"s small cup on it, it was practically full. There weren"t enough dishes, so Kusuhara and the others used soup bowls and mugs for the dipping sauce. Other than Zenjoh"s proper chair, there was one folding chair. Hidaka snagged that one, and Kusuhara and Enomoto ate standing.
"Mm! It"s good! This is really good! Is it high quality stuff?"
"Nah, it"s stuff I got from the nearby grocery store…"
"I see, it"s great!" he said lightly.
As he messily took soba from the platter, Enomoto said to him, "Hidaka… Restrain yourself.”
"Idiot, the fastest gets the most. Take that!"
"Ah!"
Hidaka had already taken all his noodles, and Enomoto bowed his head to Zenjoh.
"I apologize, he was raised with brothers, and… I"m really sorry." He, for some reason, kept apologizing for Hidaka"s behavior.
"I love spring onions. They"re delicious." Hidaka filled his bowl with them, and vigorously slurped his soba.
As he watched the scene, Zenjoh"s face relaxed slightly. "Yeah, today"s spring onions are good."
"Today"s…?" Kusuhara tilted his head, and with the wrist where he was holding his chopsticks, Zenjoh pointed to his left shoulder.
"It"s because of this hand."
"…Ahh." Kusuhara understood. Since he couldn"t use his left hand, Zenjoh couldn"t cut spring onion in small pieces with a knife. Since Kusuhara had offered to help cut the onions, it was the first time in a long while that they actually seemed like condiments… or something like that.
"Do you want more soba?" Zenjoh stood.
"Oh, yeah please!"
"…Thank you."
Hidaka and Enomoto bowed their heads.
"And spring onions?"
"Yeah!"
Kusuhara followed after Zenjoh and headed to the kitchen with a jog. Watching him, Hidaka sighed, "Hey Eno… he"s cute, isn"t he?"
"Gak!"
"Hey…! What are you choking for!? I don"t mean anything weird!"
Enomoto coughed two, three times at the fl.u.s.tered Hidaka.
"Eh, what"s wrong?" Kusuhara looked back.
"Nothing! Cut your onions!"
"Hah…" Kusuhara tilted his head, and with the heavy thud of a knife started to cut the spring onions again.
Enomoto"s coughs finally turned into a smile. "Ahem… no, I know. I get you. Kusuhara-kun"s like a little brother, or a puppy… He"s charming."
"--I see. Charming, is it?"
"Yeah, that"s it! Charm! That"s what I wanted to sa-- Woah!!" Hidaka turned around, and standing on the other side of the open window was Director Munakata Reisi. His almond-shaped eyes were directed towards the inside of the room, and showed a hint of a smile.
"h.e.l.lo, Zenjoh-san. Excuse me for interrupting again."
"Good afternoon!" Enomoto stood straight, still holding his chopsticks and bowl.
"Hey, Takeru! Make a seat! A seat!
"Eh, a seat? --Uwa!"
As the young troop members ran around in a fuss, Munakata entered the room through the window.
And finally--
Everyone holding their breath, they watched Munakata sitting in a chair in front of the second platter of soba, holding the dish they had prepared for him.
-- He eats soba… grocery store soba… Kusuhara thought this plainly ordinary thing was incredibly unexpected.
What was surprising was the image of Munakata normally eating a meal, which he couldn"t imagine before. He felt as though this man didn"t do things that regular people did, like eating or sleeping. He"d heard that he often did tea ceremony as a hobby, but for some reason thought he got his energy from ceremonial rites and meditation.
Of course, that was nothing more than just his imagination. However, looking at Munakata"s demeanor now just strengthened that impression. His back was straightened naturally sitting in the chair. The way he used his chopsticks was also correct, and beautiful. He didn"t take too many or too few noodles, and with fluid movement dropped them into his small cup then brought them to his mouth. He barely made any noise. With soft slurping sounds and beautiful movements, the noodles disappeared like magic. It was an entirely different thing and entirely different movements from when they were making a ruckus as they ate their soba just moments earlier.
Not just Kusuhara, but Hidaka and Enomoto also stood perfectly still, staring at him.
Normal humans - no, normal animals should have a natural opposition to being watched during their defenseless moments of feeding. However, Munakata paid no mind to the gazes of the troops around him, calmly taking in the soba. It was even more like he was overwhelming those around him as he did so.
"--Is something the matter? The soba will spoil."
"Ah! Yes!"
"My apologies!"
Kusuhara and Enomoto responded at attention.
"Well… Thanks for the… soba." Hidaka reached out uncomfortably, and in obligation took two or three noodles with his chopsticks. Then, as though avoiding the awkward moment, swished them around in the sauce a few times then took his time putting them in his mouth. He made his best effort not to make any sound. Munakata watched his series of movements with a smile.
"Uh, um… It"s very, cooked very well…" Hidaka fumbled out some strange-sounding things, and then poked Enomoto in the ribs as he whispered into his ear, "Hey, Eno. You"re next."
"What do you mean, next." They talked like they were pushing their turn for punishment onto each other. Actually, calmly eating soba while exposed to Munakata"s gaze was an act of stress itself.
Enomoto, bewildered, glanced back at Kusuhara.
-- Eh, me!? He unwittingly gave a small shake of his head, and Enomoto made a face of despair.
"Heh… Shall we decide the order with rock, paper, scissors?"[3]
"No! We"re sorry!"
As the three stood together at attention, Zenjoh pa.s.sed slowly in front of them. In his hand he had a porcelain bowl filled with sauce. It seemed to be the replacement for the small soba cup he had been using earlier, which he had washed and gave to Munakata.
"Pardon…"
Zenjoh placed the porcelain bowl on the desk, and with a creak he sat in the folding chair in front of Munakata. He then grasped some noodles with his hands from the platter and casually placed them in his bowl. He sprinkled some spring onions on it with his hands again, then took his chopsticks and began to slurp the soba vigorously.
Since he couldn"t hold the bowl with his left hand, he lowered his face close to it, eating like a dog. It wasn"t something about manners or anything, but in his behavior there was a strange dignity, like the actions of a large beast. "He looked like a tiger eating soba…" Hidaka had expressed later.
Almost an entire handful of noodles disappeared into Zenjoh with just two mouthfuls. Kusuhara and the others were speechless, and he again took noodles from the platter then quickly ate it up.
"Heheh… what a good way to eat. You"ve fascinated me." Munakata smiled.
"You belong in a painting."
"How embarra.s.sing… The vulgarity stains me."
After finishing the platter in a blink, Zenjoh stood again. "…Shall I make tea, too?"
"I"ll have tea. But it"s no use to try and chase me out."
Zenjoh"s movements stopped, and Kusuhara and the others held their breath. Munakata spoke, giving an enigmatic smile.
"Zenjoh-san… Today I"ll have not just soba, but a favor of yours."
Translator notes -
[1]: Again, "room monitor," or s.h.i.tsucho. Hence the confusion with Munakata.
[2]: A zaru, or the bamboo sieve that you would place soba or udon on.
[3]: Said by Munakata. There"s no indication in the narration that he said it, but it"s easy to tell who speaks in j.a.panese by the manner of speech. Unfortunately, English doesn"t work like this! So here"s a little note if you got confused.