"A shared meal is a battlefield. The host offers kindness. The guest offers deference. And the truth is a feast for the one who is most observant."
– From a Kaishi text on social etiquette, The Silent Conversation
The second day at Watanabe & Sons was blessedly similar to the first.
It was also fundamentally different.
The terror of the unknown had been replaced by the quiet confidence of a man with a task.
Riku arrived at seven-thirty. He earned another neutral nod from Sato-san. He immediately set to work.
The challenge was now purely intellectual. Cleaning the data. Transforming a mountain of chaos into an elegant, logical ledger.
He lost himself in the work. The rhythmic clack of the keyboard was a familiar comfort. The precise logic of organizing data was a language he understood.
For hours, the world shrank to the glowing green characters on the CRT screen.
........
It was the sudden silence that broke his concentration.
He looked up. The low whir of the office fans was still there. But the rustle of paper from Sato-san's desk was gone.
He glanced over. He saw her standing, slipping on a cardigan.
"Hayashi-san," she said. Her tone was matter-of-fact. "It is lunchtime. I am going to the shokudō around the corner. You should eat as well. Join me."
It was not a question. It was a polite directive.
A test wrapped in a social convention. In an office this small, refusing would be a breach of etiquette. A signal that he was not a team player.
Panic, a familiar cold companion, pricked at him.
Lunch at a restaurant was a luxury he could not afford. Every single yen was precious. A drop of fuel in a tank that was rapidly approaching empty.
"Ah, thank you, Sato-san," he said. He forced a smile as he stood. "That's very kind."
........
He followed her into the midday bustle.
The diner, or shokudō, was a small place. It had a blue curtain over the door and plastic food models in a glass case out front.
Inside, the air was warm and steamy. It smelled of dashi, soy sauce, and fried fish.
Sato-san led him to a small table. A waitress brought them cups of hot barley tea.
Riku scanned the menu on the wall. His eyes searched for the cheapest possible item. He tried to appear casual.
A set meal with grilled mackerel was 750 yen. The tempura udon was 680.
"The daily special is the tonkatsu set," Sato-san noted, not looking at him. "It's usually very good here."
The tonkatsu set was 800 yen. Riku felt a knot tighten in his stomach.
He saw his escape. A simple bowl of rice with a raw egg. Tamago kake gohan. For 300 yen.
It was peasant food. But it was all he could justify.
"I think I'll just have the rice," he said. He tried to sound as if it were a deliberate choice.
Sato-san lowered her menu. She looked at him. Her sharp eyes were analytical.
"Just rice? A growing young man needs more than that to work properly. The president does not pay you to fall asleep at your desk."
She paused. "My treat today. As a welcome."
Shame and relief warred within him. He was being treated like a charity case. But the reprieve was so overwhelming he couldn't bring himself to refuse.
"Sato-san, you don't have to…"
"I insist," she said. Her tone left no room for argument.
She turned to the waitress. "Two tonkatsu sets, please."
........
The meal was exquisite.
The pork cutlet was perfectly fried. It was crispy on the outside and impossibly juicy within. It was served with a mountain of shredded cabbage and a bowl of steaming miso soup.
For Riku, who had been subsisting on instant noodles, it was a feast.
He ate slowly. He savored every bite. He felt the rich food replenish his energy.
"The boy you replaced," Sato-san said suddenly, midway through the meal. "He was not a bad person. But he lacked persistence."
"When the data was corrupted, he gave up. He said it was impossible. The president has no time for the word 'impossible.'"
Riku nodded, swallowing a mouthful of rice. He understood perfectly. He was being told what was expected of him.
"You, on the other hand, seem to find solutions," she continued. A subtle note of approval was in her voice. "My niece is like that. She is studying photography. She says the perfect shot is never the easy one. It's the one you have to wait for."
The mention of her niece felt significant. It was the first crack in her professional armor. A small glimpse into her life outside the office.
"Photography sounds like a wonderful profession," Riku said politely.
The rest of the lunch passed in comfortable silence. When Sato-san paid the bill, Riku bowed his head deeply.
"Thank you very much for the meal, Sato-san. I will work hard to repay your kindness."
........
Back at the office, the warmth of the meal had eased some of his profound isolation.
But it had also sharpened his awareness of his own poverty. He couldn't rely on the kindness of others.
He was an adult. He needed to stand on his own two feet.
His starting salary would be enough to live on, but just barely. It would not be enough to build a future.
His knowledge, his one incredible advantage, felt like a caged animal. It was pacing restlessly inside him. He knew which technologies would boom. He knew which would bust. But that knowledge was useless without capital.
To play the game, he needed chips. To get chips, he needed money. Far more than he could ever save from his meager salary.
He finished his day's work with a new, burning resolve. The data project was his foundation. His proof of worth.
But it was only the first step.
He needed a plan. He couldn't just rely on hazy, twenty-first-century memories. He needed to understand the specific financial landscape of this city. In this country. In this exact year.
As he walked home, bypassing the convenience store to save every yen, a new destination formed in his mind.
A public library. A place where knowledge was free.
He would arm himself not just with memories of the future, but with the documented facts of the past. He would find his opportunity.
The time for mere survival was over.
It was time to start earning his second chance in earnest.