It was two in the afternoon on a day in March.
On University K’s vast campus, in an area for the Agriculture Department, a large group of people had gathered.
They were of all ages and clad in varying styles of clothing, but every one of them had the same look of hope and uncertainty as they waited for the glass doors to open.
Masamichi Adachi, who was turning twenty that year, was one of them.
Please, God. I don’t know which god I should pray to, but please let them finally accept me this year.
He had been praying like this since he woke up that morning.
He knew it was too late for prayers, but he couldn’t help it.
His throat was burning terribly, and he couldn’t stop coughing, so he retrieved a plastic tea bottle from his thin backpack and took a sip.
He’d felt rushed that morning and had arrived almost an hour before the scheduled time, so he was getting cold. It was no wonder, since he’d just been standing in one spot with nothing to do. His ankles stung, and his joints felt stiff.
It’s almost time for the results to be announced. I’m dying to see how I did. But then again, maybe it would be better to find out later. I would have brought heating pads if I’d known it was going to be so cold.
Masamichi was rubbing his numb hands together to warm them up when a murmur arose from the crowd.
Three people in suits, the group everyone had been waiting for, came out of a nearby building.
The one who looked to be the oldest had a loudspeaker in hand, while the other two held rolled-up papers.
The senior man stepped in front of the bare wooden bulletin boards and brought his loudspeaker to his mouth, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Thank you all for waiting. We will now post the identification numbers of the applicants who have passed our university entrance exam!”
With the crackling voice from the loudspeaker as their cue, the people who’d gathered outside the gate pushed forward to the bulletin boards.
This was what they had been anticipating.
Those results were also available online that day, but it was human psychology to want to see and feel the emotions firsthand at the site.
Masamichi moved with the crowd despite the numbness in his frozen feet.
With reverence and care, the two other university employees unrolled, spread, and pasted one sheet of paper after another on the bulletin boards.
A list of five-digit applicant numbers was printed neatly on the undecorated white paper.
The crowd pushed and shoved in front of the bulletin boards as people searched for their numbers. Some shouted in joy while others slumped in dejection.
A few embraced and celebrated with those who had been accepted. Others leaped in joy, while some suppressed their happiness and consoled friends who had not passed the test. Some were already recruited to join the school’s clubs, and others checked the results and quietly walked away.
Amid such bright and dark scenes, Masamichi scanned the bulletin boards for his number.
Oh, my number would be in that area.
He hesitantly went through the people blocking his path and approached a sheet that had just been put up. That mere action was tough for a petite and skinny guy like him.
Please, God, let them finally accept me this year, Masamichi repeated in his mind with each step he took, as if chanting a spell.
But his desperate wish was not granted.
It was the same as the year before. Masamichi found the numbers before and after his, but his was missing.
He had failed.
That result was like a stab from a long spear; he felt it from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.
It happened again. They…rejected me. The people with the numbers before and after mine got in, but not me.
All the energy went out of him, and he nearly collapsed, but the sea of people wouldn’t allow that.
He was like a plastic bag floating on the ocean, carried by the tide from one place to another. By the time he managed to move away from the bulletin boards, he was a total wreck.
He staggered to a flower bed limply, like his heart had been pulled out of his body, and plopped down on the sturdy concrete edge.
He had been shivering from the cold earlier, but now he was chilled to the bone as if a block of ice had been shoved into his solar plexus. It was a sensation that froze the blood in his entire body.
Did it mean anything to spend the past year studying?
After failing the entrance exam for the same university a year ago, Masamichi had left his family home in Akita, in northern Japan, and moved alone to Kanagawa, where the university was located.
He was paying his rent with the modest savings he had accumulated from his allowance, New Year’s gifts, and income from his part-time job. Since he couldn’t afford a prep school, he had spent a lonely year relying on free study videos uploaded on the internet.
Not once had he returned to Akita. He had looked at pictures on social media of his classmates back home having a lively reunion at the beginning of the year, while he snuggled up at a small heated kotatsu table in his rundown apartment, devoting himself to his studies.
And now this.
I was sure I would be accepted this year. I had a good feeling about it.
The initial shock had subsided slightly, and his heart slowly began to beat again.
What am I going to do?
Masamichi’s phone vibrated in his coat pocket as if responding to his heartbreak.
He hurriedly pulled it out and saw his mother’s name on the display.
Stifling the storm of emotions that immediately welled up inside, Masamichi pressed the talk icon and held the phone, which was warmed by his body heat, against his cold ear.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Masamichi? How are you doing? You said today is the day the university announces the students it’s accepting this year. Everyone’s been wondering how you did.”
The fact that his mother, who usually communicated through text messages or e-mail, was calling him suggested that she couldn’t wait to hear the results.
Masamichi had never felt this sorry, but lying would be pointless. Taking a deep breath, he suppressed the urge to scream and told her in as calm a voice as he could.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I failed again…”
That night, an unexpected event awaited Masamichi as he dragged himself to his part-time job.
He had worked for the past year at a pub that was part of a national chain and was located two stations away from his apartment.
He had managed to make ends meet by working five days a week, doing various tasks from preparing the restaurant before it opened to cleaning up after it closed. The job was quite demanding, but the hourly wage wasn’t bad, and the hearty meals they provided were great for a student studying to get into college.
The shock of failing the college entrance exam for the second time was tremendous. Still, he was grateful that the pub was busy that day, because he would be overwhelmed with sadness, bitterness, hesitation, and so on if he was idle.
Wanting to distract himself from the weight of reality for the time being, Masamichi put more effort into his work than usual.
After eleven PM, he sent off the last customer and started tidying up.
“Hey, Masamichi. Come here a minute,” said the manager after checking the sales. Masamichi was cleaning the floor, but the manager went into the back office without waiting for a reply, expecting him to do as he was told.
The previous manager who had hired Masamichi had been a kindly, friendly, and approachable older man, while the new manager had come to the pub a month ago. He attended daily staff meetings before the business opened and gave instructions and advice, but Masamichi had never once engaged in a personal conversation with the man.
I wonder what he wants. Has some customer complained about me?
Somewhat nervous, he went to the back office and saw the manager frowning in front of a computer in the back of the room, wearing a jacket over his uniform.
He noticed Masamichi and wordlessly gestured with his fingers for him to come closer.
He seemed very arrogant, but a part-time worker like Masamichi had no right to be upset with the manager over something as trivial as this.
As Masamichi approached timidly, the manager didn’t even smile.
“It will only take a second, so you can just stand there, okay?”
It sounded like a question but was an order to remain standing. Masamichi nodded and stayed next to the desk.
“Um, what is it, sir?”
“Yeah. Thanks for your hard work to date.”
Masamichi didn’t immediately understand what that meant and murmured a vague response.
That seemed to irritate the manager, who added:
“What I’m saying is that I think it’s time you thought about moving on.”
“Huh?!”
Masamichi finally realized that he was being fired, and he stepped closer to the desk.
“Wait a minute, sir! Have I done something wrong?”
The manager heaved an exaggerated sigh and leaned back in his chair with a thud.
“Maybe you haven’t done anything wrong, but gee.”
“Then why?”
“Why? You know why the previous manager was fired and I was hired in his place, right?”
As the manager said that dismissively, Masamichi recalled the gentle smile of his predecessor and answered hesitantly.
“I heard rumors that we weren’t too profitable.”
“That’s correct. See? You do know why.”
The manager snapped his fingers and lowered his voice.
“This pub has a fantastic location in front of a train station. But we aren’t doing too well because we have so many competitors. Unlike the rest of you, I was sent here under orders to make it profitable.”
Masamichi nodded, unable to think of a response.
“I want to produce results ASAP and be called back to the head office. If I don’t, I won’t be promoted and come out as the winner here. Do you understand that?”
“Y…yes, sir.”
The manager clicked his tongue at Masamichi’s bland response, then pulled out a sheet of paper he’d printed and slapped it on the desk in front of him.
“These are the results from our customer survey the other day. Take a look.”
Masamichi reluctantly reached for the paper and picked it up. It contained comments from customers who frequently came to the pub.