Books are great. They allow us a peek into all sorts of other people’s lives. Normally, the only life that I, Yuuta Asamura, could experience would be the boring, average day-to-day of a regular guy. But when I read, I could share in the lives of countless other people.
I’m not just talking about fiction. Autobiographies are the same way, and so are books about business. Through books, you can download all sorts of people into your mind.
Books about tunnel vision, for instance. Or careless negligence. Or the type of narcissism that makes you want to cover your face in discomfort.
Maybe it’s because I’ve read so many books that I’ve become able to think metacognitively and look at myself from an objective point of view so I don’t end up embarrassing myself with issues like that.
An adult male brain weighs about fourteen hundred grams.
When I think about that, I feel scared to live my life based only on the “common sense” of such a tiny, closed space and the decisions it makes.
If I didn’t read, I wondered, would I have ended up like the people in those books?
It was now eight PM.
I’d come to help around six, and two hours had passed. I’d been dealing with customers and working the cash register during the busiest time for the weekend.
The number of people in the store was finally dwindling, and I was folding book covers at the register hoping for a little breather, when a particular scene caught my attention.
“Damn, lady, you are seriously my type. This has to be love at first sight.”
“Are you looking for a particular book?”
“Huh? Man, you’re too cute. How about dinner after you finish work? What time do you get off?”
“As they say, take a hike.”
“God, I have no idea what you’re saying, but you’re so funny!”
The guy bothering the female clerk was one of those noisy partygoer types. She was snubbing him, but he wasn’t getting it. You often came across interactions like this in Shibuya, though it was rare to witness so persistent a pickup attempt aimed at a bookstore employee right in her place of work.
The victim was the picture of a delicate Japanese beauty with impressive long black hair. She was a neat, lovely girl who was clearly into literature—the total opposite of a flirt. She was like a flower, spreading a gentle aroma into the air around her.
Despite the rude, flippant behavior of the guy trying to hit on her, she maintained a graceful, businesslike smile, though her eyes were cold.
I don’t want any trouble, but…
I picked up a random binder and a list and proceeded to the source of the commotion.
“Uh, Yomiuri,” I said, addressing the woman. “There’s something I want to ask you.”
“Oh, okay!” she replied “What do you need?”
“Our new shipment list doesn’t look right, but I don’t know how to compare it to the information on the computer.”
“…! Okay, I’ll take a look right away.”
“Wha—? Hey, wait a sec!” the guy called out.
Aware of what I was doing, the female clerk tried to escape, but the man panicked and reached out to grab her. His rough hands moved for her delicate wrists, but I casually blocked his fingertips with the binder.
“Do you need something else from my girlfriend?” I asked.
“Huh?” the man said, confused.
Of course, she and I weren’t in a relationship or anything. This was just a lie to get through the situation.
The man’s mouth hung open, and he froze for a moment; then he clapped his hands and bowed low.
“Oh, geez, sorry, I didn’t realize…! Right, of course! A pretty girl like her couldn’t possibly be single.”
“What? Oh, um, right.”
He’d taken me by surprise.
In the world of fiction, guys like him usually got furious and threw a punch at you, but I guess things were different in real life.
Or maybe it was just him.
“Hey, take good care of her, mister. Best wishes!”
He even went so far as to give us his blessings, struck a cliché pose typical of guys like him, and left the store.
With the noisy customer gone, it was quiet once again. I suddenly became aware of the other customers eyeing me and quickly returned to the register, head low as I tried to hide the blush that had spread to my ears.
“Thanks, Yuuta,” said Yomiuri. “You saved the day. But that flirt… If he was going to give up that easily, he should have backed off when I snubbed him… Don’t you agree, boyfriend?”
“Stop that.”
“We were an item for only one minute—not even a one-night stand! Boo-hoo.”
Yomiuri’s business smile disappeared when she returned to the register. She stuck out her tongue and chuckled devilishly. Then she pulled her name tag out from a pocket and attached it to the right side of her uniform.
“Aren’t we supposed to keep our name tags on during our shift…?”
“We have to be flexible.”
Yomiuri touched her delicate index finger to her lips, indicating that I should keep this our secret.
“Rules exist so an organization can function smoothly,” she said. “But it’ll be even worse if a guy like that finds out my name and keeps coming back like a pain in the ass.”
“That’s true.”
Yomiuri must have been super smart. Instead of following the rules to the letter, she understood their purpose and acted accordingly. To me, this intelligence was her most appealing trait, but a lot of other guys didn’t seem to agree.
“This is the third time this month,” I said.
“Today’s the seventh, which makes it once every other day.”
She put on a show of sinking weakly to the floor behind the cash register where the customers wouldn’t see her.
Someone else might think she was humblebragging by complaining about how often customers tried to put the moves on her, but my policy was to remain neutral, so I was able to listen to her honest worries without any strange biases.
“I wish they’d at least move it somewhere else,” I said. “Since you tease me every time I cover for you… Though, I guess I’ve gotten used to it by now.”
“I appreciate it. You’re a really dependable guy, Yuuta.”
“…Oh, sorry. I wasn’t fishing for compliments.”
“That’s okay. I’m causing you trouble, so fish away.”
She laughed and patted me on the shoulder.
Yomiuri looked like a delicate Japanese beauty, but she let her guard down when we had shifts alone together. She’d even start cracking jokes with me.
At first, I was shocked by her lack of restraint and how she’d casually touch me, but it was easy to get used to once I realized that was just how she was and she was only being friendly.
“But you sure are popular with the guys,” I remarked. “I guess it’s because you’re beautiful.”
“Oh, Yuuta…don’t be so quick to compliment me, or you’ll wind up like that customer someday.”
“Please don’t scare me.”
“But I don’t think those guys come after me because they think I’m beautiful. They probably just figure I’d be an easy lay.”
“An easy…lay…?”
The straightforward way she said it, with no forewarning, made me choke.
Yomiuri was beautiful, but she was also graceful and reserved.
Those features made her an outcast in Shibuya, and maybe they gave some guys the wrong impression…