The biological clock ticked loudly in silence.
Takizawa woke.
A natural wake-up day—pure bliss.
I love Sundays. The last bastion of the working class, the final line of human dignity, the dawn of divine reprieve.
Billions of believers worldwide praise the Almighty's greatness.
To Takizawa, God's sanctity wasn't in creating the world in seven days but in decreeing the seventh for rest.
Thus, for the wage slaves and grunts trapped in exploitation's cycle, a breath, a reason to linger.
Lord, you're so kind.
Pushing aside the idol girl study guides on his chest, he rose groggily, eyes half-closed, fumbling to the bathroom, washing and brushing by muscle memory.
At the kitchenette, he boiled water, tossed a few loose eggs from the fridge into the pot. Minutes later, eggshells littered the table as he chewed mechanically, sipping warm milk.
He made the bed, opened the window, gathered laundry, and, at the door, slipped on shoes while mentally mapping his day.
Audition: None.
Voice work: Day after tomorrow.
Binge late-night shows: Done.
Office face-time: Zero visits this month, but address memorized.
Supermarket sale: Attended, scored cheap essentials and groceries.
As an RPG player who itched unless every quest was cleared, this tidy life schedule felt sublime.
Today's main quest: Join a senior's casual agency meetup. Rewards: +10 faction rep, +10 friend affinity, +300 social EXP, small chance of a souvenir item.
Humming, he headed downstairs, started his pink moped, and mentally opened Tokyo's map, weaving through streets. No boast, but he could ace a taxi driver gig.
The meetup was at a nearby amusement park, surrounded by an aquarium and a strip of eateries—a go-to for casual fun.
Come to think of it, since arriving, he hadn't hung out with multiple friends like this. Last time at Iwasawa's, making gyozas was fun, but entertainment was limited—teasing Sakura was the only pastime.
Times had changed.
Stable job, elite degree, a bike, and a Tokyo apartment. Reflecting on his tough past, it was time to munch snacks, sip hot drinks, and ogle stylish passersby!
Parking his moped, Takizawa slicked his hair, striding confidently toward the park.
Early for the meetup, he grabbed a cola, claimed a prime spot by the fountain statue, propped his legs, and scanned the scene.
…The street swarmed with kids yanking mascot tails, clutching balloons, chasing each other, or wailing for ice cream. Distant kiddy coasters echoed with thrilled screams.
Watching joyful couples and kids, the lone man stood apart, mouth agape, dazed.
Huh?
A children's amusement park?
His mental archive spun, cross-checking call logs, chats, texts, and Tokyo's map to ensure no wrong turns.
Seconds later, confirmed correct.
He rubbed his chin, pondering.
Nakajima-senpai, kind and steady, with a stellar rep, had organized countless events. Choosing such an odd spot must've been deliberate.
Probably pocketed park ad money…
No, it's likely to show the agency's like family—siblings, close-knit. I'm Enterprise's culture was free-spirited, vibrant. As a veteran, Nakajima wanted to convey that, right?
Understanding dawned, and Takizawa's expression softened.
He pulled out his phone, scrolling his sparse friend list.
[BullChief: Where you at?]
[CarMechanic: On the train, you?]
[BullChief: At the fountain, watching ape cubs throw tantrums.]
[CarMechanic: Haha, I'll hurry.]
[PureMoonie: Sounds fun! When can we go together?]
[BullChief: Bro, it's a kids' park.]
[PureMoonie: So?]
[BullChief: It's all families. This time's fine, but us coming as a group later? Weird.]
[PureMoonie: Three's perfect. What's weird?]
[BullChief: Fine, I'm Dad.]
[PureMoonie: I'll take the hit, I'm Mom.]
[CarMechanic: ?]
Instant fatherhood—worthy of his BullChief handle.
Takizawa sipped his cola, eyeing a tiny girl staring at cotton candy, hands in mouth, eyes like his twenty years ago.
Craved snacks and toys, once out of reach, now easily bought as an adult—but that world-conquering joy was gone.
Growing up stole innocence.
Growing up raised greed's ceiling.
Sighing, he bought cotton candy and approached the girl.
"Want some?" He asked warmly.
She looked up, eyes sparkling, cheeks rosy, nodding eagerly. Then she watched, stunned, as he tore into the fluffy treat.
"Not as good as memory. The real sweetness is a lost childhood," He mused, poetic.
She didn't grasp the heavy words, just felt teased, eyes watering, near tears. But a fresh pink cotton candy appeared like magic.
"Envy you, tasting this simple, pure sweetness."
She took it shyly, licking cautiously.
"But don't take stuff from strangers."
Accepting the vendor's thumbs-up, he patted her head and left, a dashing silhouette.
It was cheap anyway. He wandered, buying snacks for a few broke kids, a beacon of justice, completing their childhoods.
Back at the fountain's open seats, watching warm families, he felt a faint connection.
Humans might just be social creatures.
But where would he carry on his life?
"Hello…?"
A soft, uncertain female voice broke his thoughts. He turned.
A vibrant, slender girl stood there.
Seeing his face, her reserved smile bloomed like a squirrel finding a nut.
Her features were striking, with light makeup and faint dark circles, like a morning drama actress fresh off a shoot.
"It really is you. The back looked familiar," She said, hands in her brown coat pockets, eyes flitting, slightly shy.
"…Me?" Takizawa pointed at himself, confused.
"Of course," She nodded, saying his name precisely. "Takizawa-kun, long time no see."
"Oh, yeah, been a while," He replied, a beat late.
"You didn't forget me, did you?" She asked, half-joking, half-doubtful.
"Nah, no way."
His mental archive raced, scanning a hundred faces a second.
No hits.
The archive never failed.
Catching his hesitation, her smile faded, eyes dimming with disappointment, but she rallied, teasing, "You totally forgot, huh?"
He froze, grasping for words to recover.
She waved it off graciously, extending a pale hand.
"I'm Uchida Maaya. Don't forget this time, Takizawa-kun."
***
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