Chaos in Kadoma Ward – Chapter 12

“These noodles are amazing! Much better than the street food I ate last night.” Kazuo loads his chopsticks with a dozen noodles and crams them into his mouth. “Are there peanuts in this?”

Kotashi, sweeping the floor behind the counter, pauses. “That particular mix is one of Rin’s favorites. The Number Two is a spicy Thai style sauce. If you like that, come back another day and try the Shanghai style. We can make that extra spicy too.”

“Fantastic,” Kazuo says around a mouthful of noodles. “This is my new favorite place. My apartment is only a tiny room with an equally tiny stove and refrigerator. I’ll be eating out a lot.” He leans back from the counter and glances up the street. “And this place is only four stops away on the butsu.”

I slowly slurp my noodles, grateful I could choose a Vietnamese style soup instead of something fried. My migraine has moved from the back of my head over the top to my sinuses. A giant has taken up residence right behind my eyes, beating the inside of my skull like a taiko drum. Colors are magnified by two hundred percent, and I can hear every last chop, scratch, or sniff from those around me. The steamy heat from my bowl of soup soothes my aching face.

I’m not sure how much longer I’ll last.

And I’m not sure it was a great idea to consider a job here. It’s been in the back of my head since the judge mentioned Kotashi’s noodles. Maybe because Rin worked here, I could work here too?

“When I was a kid, my orphanage was ten stops away on the butsu, and I used to run it every day to get here on time. Gina volunteered in the kitchen there, and we became fast friends because I was always sneaking in to hang out where it was warm.” Rin’s face softens with his stories. “I mostly stayed out of trouble, but there was this time I was really stupid, just dumb, and I stole food from a convenience store to impress some friends.” Rin folds his arms over his chest, leaning back in the chair, and letting his eyes focus on a spot far away. “A Kiiroi Yama patrolman who caught me told me I had to find a job, or I’d be deported.”

I lay my chopsticks on the rest next to my bowl. “Would they really do that?”

Kotashi, listening to the story, narrows his eyes at me. Oops. I just gave away how ignorant I am of this society.

“Nah. It’s unlikely,” Rin continues, not realizing my gaffe. “I know now those kinds of threats are empty, but they work on some kids like they did on me. I told Gina what happened, and she offered me a job here. I took a month or two to get the hang of making hand-pulled noodles and all the sauces and condiments, but I was determined to make it work. This is the only home I’ve ever known, and I didn’t want to be deported. Anyway, I commuted on the butsu the ten stops every morning at four AM to get here and make noodles. It’s nice to be closer now.”

Rin leans forward, over the counter, to look into the kitchen at Gina scrolling through the open orders on the projection over the wok and grill. Though the tōsha in Rin’s apartment didn’t interact with me, I have seen this technology too, tōsha that act like tablets, like on the judge’s desk. I really want to work one of them myself.

The lunch hour has slowed, and only two other people sit with us at the counter. Outside, the weather has taken a turn, the air becoming misty and laden with water. No wonder my head feels like it’s going to explode.

“Where did you say you all are from again?” Kotashi dumps his dustpan into a slot on the wall labeled ‘Burnable.’ “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard your accent before.”

I keep my eyes on my soup but nudge Rin with my knee under the counter. We never spoke about our cover, what we would tell people when they asked where I was from. I suppose we would have gone over this, but between travel yesterday and then court this morning, we’ve had little time.

“It has to do with why I was away for so long. Yumi and Kazuo are from outside the city. Kazuo is working for Kiiroi Yama, but Yumi is still looking for work.” Rin clears his throat, glancing at me and my half-eaten bowl of noodles. “Are you not hungry? I thought for certain the stress of the day would’ve made you hungry.”

I don’t want to lie because Kazuo’s eyes are drilling straight into me, and he can read me like a book.

“The soup is delicious, but I’m feeling the effects of an impending low-pressure system,” I say, making strict eye contact with Rin. He takes a few moments, but he seems to remember our conversation about how weather affects my migraines.

“I see. Should we go home and continue this later?” He whispers to me, but I shake my head. The judge said I needed a job before the end of the week. Since I haven’t looked at a calendar yet, and I have no idea what day of the week it is, much less how many days are in a week, a month, a year, I don’t want to put this off.

The last few people at the counter pay up, waving their right wrist over a spot on the counter and shouting their thanks into the kitchen as they depart. One man pulls his jacket up over his head, and the other grabs an umbrella from his bag. Rain ricochets off the top, and the skies open up.

We’re going to get soaked on our way back to Rin’s, and the butsu doesn’t run in the rain. So what then?

Better get this over with. I was so excited by my idea but being here at K&G’s Noodles and asking for a job is an entirely different matter.

“Kotashi, might I have a word with you and Gina in the kitchen?” I ask, surprising Rin next to me.

Kazuo nods at me. “I’ll wait here.”

I smile at Kotashi, trying to ease his obvious anxiety. He’s probably wondering why these strangers are suddenly with his quasi-adopted son. And the fact that I don’t look or sound like any of them has made him uneasy. I mean it, too, when I say I don’t look like anyone here. I’m short, my hair is a greasy mess, and I’m wearing clothes that don’t fit me. I’m the only person I’ve seen not wearing makeup, not that it would help me. All the women here, and many of the men, are beyond gorgeous, flawless. I’m like a squat, ugly gnome in the middle of runway models.

“Sure,” Kotashi says, glancing around, maybe hoping for a new customer to arrive so he could beg off. But no one shows up in the pouring rain. Everyone is back at their offices.

I smooth out my flyaway hair, now energized by the humidity, and take a deep breath through the pain in my head.

“You’re fidgeting,” Rin whispers at me.

“Piss off,” I whisper back. He huffs a short laugh but follows me into the kitchen.

I’m immediately pleased with the layout. The engineered stone floors are swept clean. Clear containers full of fresh ingredients are stacked on gleaming metal tables. Towers of porcelain bowls await orders, and Gina has an assembly line set up for all her sauces. The android sits in a chair against the far wall, her eyes closed. Does she have a name? Is that where she’s kept when not in use? There are three doors, and I’m not sure where they go.

“Rin,” Gina exclaims as she leaves her table and crosses the floor, “it’s been ages since you were last back here.”

“It hasn’t changed a bit. Well, except for her.” He jerks his head at the android.

“Kina,” Gina says, “though I didn’t choose the name. Her previous owner did. I would’ve chosen something that didn’t rhyme with my own name. I call her Kay, and she responds to it.”

The android remains quiet, her eyes closed.

“Anyway…” Gina eyes me, most likely hoping for more information about why I’ve been hanging around, why I’m a new member of his household.

Speak up, Yumi!

“I-I know we just met yesterday, and you don’t even know me, but I wanted to speak to you about a job.”

Gina and Kotashi look sideways at each other. “Well, dear, I already have a job. Do you need catering or something?”

My brain throbs, making concentration a problem.

“Oh, oh, no. Um.” Shit. When I wanted the job at YNS, I went into the studio, resume and clip reel in hand, and I straight up told Chiéko Mori I was the best person for the job. I was confident and sure of myself. Nothing like this person.

But here my life is in danger, and I’m not in a position to say I’m the best damned noodle puller this side of the galaxy. I’m okay in the kitchen because I had a patient teacher growing up. Germaine loved me and let me play around at the stove. The restaurant business wasn’t my calling, but it felt like home to chop vegetables and cook up dinner.

“I’m the one who needs a job.” I rush forward at the stony looks on their faces. “Kotashi said yesterday he was getting too old to pull noodles anymore, and I thought, what with Rin being a good friend and all that…”

Sweat builds up on my neck, and I press my hand to my forehead, hoping for relief. I should have waited until I was better prepared and in full health. But there’s no time for that. Narumi Ogawa wants me dead. Atsumi doesn’t like me either. And both of them can do something about it.

I’ve gone to jail a dozen times, but I don’t want to go to jail here when I have no idea how they treat people put behind bars.

Rin breaks into my disaster of an interview. “Yumi is required to work, and I think this is a great idea. I’m sure she’ll learn the technique quickly, and you’ll both get a break by having her on staff. And if she’s here every day, I won’t be worried about her.”

Rin squeezes my forearm, but I sweep his hand off of me. “Stop,” I whisper.

Kotashi glances towards the front of the restaurant, but it’s still vacant with only Kazuo sitting there waiting for us.

His eyes widen as he takes a step away from me. “Who are you, really? Why would you need a job from us? I don’t even know your full name or why you’re with Rin.”

I smile through my pain, and the effort makes me nauseous. “I promise it’s nothing sinister or anything. My” — I hesitate, unsure of where to go with this — “contract was given to Rin, and he accepted it in good faith from Mr. Tamura.”

Gina and Kotashi glance at each other. “You were under contract to the CEO of Aka Matsuba? Why would you leave a position like that?”

I sigh, now aware of how different my life might be right now if I hadn’t tried to run away with Kazuo. I will probably be punished for that forever.

I don’t know how to answer their questions, so I press on.

“I just need a job. Something to declare on my…” I turn to Rin.

“They want her to be a part of the machine. Remember? You said the same thing to me when I was a kid.”

“But that was over a decade ago,” Gina insists, her voice tinged with exasperation. “We’re older now. I have an ad out to hire a new manager, but someone with experience. Not someone I have to babysit.”

This is not going well. I thought because Rin was so favored by them, they might help him out by hiring me. I’m kicking myself for once again trying to base this culture on my own. These people seem nice, but deep down, they’re the most worried about the security of their business.

I wonder if I can beg. I’m considering getting down on my knees when Rin speaks up.

“You won’t have to babysit her. Yumi is the most flexible person I’ve ever met. If she thinks she can do this job, and be happy here, I’m inclined to believe her.”

My heart soars. Rin believes in me!

“Besides, she’ll be cheaper than anyone else you’d hire. She’s now at Level Zero. I expect her hourly wage to be around nine credits per hour. A bargain.”

My heart gives up and dies. Yes, that’s right, ladies and gentlemen. I’m cheap, a real steal.

I step away from him, wishing my look-of-death was stronger. Instead, I’m pretty sure my bottom lip quivers. Not good.

“I…” Gina wrings her hands. “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Someone at the front of the restaurant calls out for service, and she hustles to leave the kitchen as quickly as possible.

“I’m sorry,” Kotashi says, bowing. “Kay, we have customers!”

The android opens her eyes, pops off her chair, and bows before proceeding to the sink to wash her hands.

Fuck this. I can’t believe I blew it. I can’t even get a job pulling noodles.

“It’ll be all right,” Rin whispers. “They may change their minds. I’ll come speak to them tomorrow.”

I turn away from him, and the movement whips my migraine into full force. My brain slams around in my skull, and an icepick of pain stabs through my sinuses. Stumbling through the door, I mumble obscenities under my breath.

Screw this fucking world. Do they think they’re going to break me this way? Ha! I’ll get the best fucking job if it kills me. No one tells me I can’t do what I want to do. Giving up is for losers.

My stomach lurches as I pass Kazuo, but I won’t show my weakness to Gina and Kotashi. They may have turned me down today, but I’ll be back.

I’ll show them.

I walk straight into the rain, around the corner, and lose my entire lunch between two potted plants. The rain is gentle, but it’s a raging monsoon in my head. Even the subdued light of a stormy sky is too much, pressing down on me like a hundred metric tonnes of steel. I retreat from the sick and sit down on the pavement, soaking myself.

Kazuo tries to approach me, but Rin snaps out his arm to hold him back.

“No. Like we said, she’s my responsibility now.”

I struggle to my feet. “Your ‘responsibility’? What am I? A dog you need to take out for a walk? Go to hell. I’m cheap? Who fucking says that?”

Rin blanches as Kazuo raises his eyebrows.

“You said what?” he asks Rin.

I don’t stick around. I turn and walk off, or try to. I can only manage five steps before I want to slam my head into the wall. I’ve done that before though, and it doesn’t help. Lacing my fingers into my hair, I pull, trying to relieve the pressure. We should’ve gone back to Rin’s hours ago. This is all my fault. I always try to work through my migraines and always fail.

I never learn.

A soft, heavy weight descends on my shoulders, Rin’s coat sheltering me from the rain.

“Let me take you home. I know underground routes we can take to get us there faster and drier.”

I have no choice.

With his arm around my shoulders, he directs me past Kazuo and towards the bed I sleep in that belonged to a woman who hates me in an apartment that’s not mine on a world I don’t understand.

I refuse to call it home.