Host bar // kazuscara [EDITING]

2

It was when 10 o'clock struck when the chimes of the night struck. Kazuha sat at his office seat. The last of the documents necessary for tomorrow's  meeting was sent off to the printer, and Kazuha's day of work was finally done. Sitting in the same position for what felt like an eternity, he stretched, relieving his body and shaking off the shackles of responsibility.

Shutting his computer down, he peered around. He was the last one here again. Lights were shut off by the last coworker to save electricity bills, and the usual bustling office felt like a liminal space, like they had all left Kazuha; stranded and alone.

It was expected, no one would've wanted to work overtime as Kazuha did. Their minds were more put together than Kazuha. They had lives outside of work, like children, wives, and family. Work was merely a part of their identity. But for Kazuha, work was the only way he could define his value.

After his promotion to management, it was a reality check. There was only so much he could do for all the issues his last manager had left him. Even after endless cups of coffee and sitting hunch-backed on his chair, the hours and hours of work could barely make a dent into the rubbish system his ex-manager set out.

It's as if his ex-manager and his boss had made a deal to ruin Kazuha's life.

Carrying his handbag, he sluggishly wandered towards the subway, half-asleep. Barely watching his steps as he waddled onto the quiet subway of Tokyo.

The Gods must've heard his cry, since it was unusual to be able to relax in a vacant seat on the busiest subway in Tokyo. He excitedly sat down, intending to review some more documents during the hour ride back home. 

And review he did not. Instead, he felt a soothing wave of sleepiness wash over his worn-out body. Like a paralyzed man, he realized he wanted nothing more than to plop down without a worry and sleep for eternity. His eyelids flickered, his world spun, so sleep he did.

The next he saw of anything, he was being reminded that the Tokyo subway has reached its end. Kazuha, in fact, fell asleep on the subway about 13 stops from his destination.

Grunting, he transferred subway trains. It was undignifying to realize he'd given up his pride napping in a subway train, let alone seeing the circle of drool he made on his suit collar. Struggling to cover it with his platinum hair, he leaned on the seat beside the subway door.

The drowsiness hit his nerve systems again, almost like a tranquilizer. The subway rides were like his crib, the vibrations against the cold metal bars of the train drifted him off to his dreams, catering to his stress like a lullaby. Grateful, he fluttered his eyes shut. The dream picked right back on where it left off, continuing his fearless adventures carefree.

Before kazuha knew it, he awoke. Noticing that once again, he had slept past his destination. Except this time, he was only a few stops off. He didn't want to risk it again with the subway, so he hurridely got off before the urge to nap overtook him.

What would a normal, tired person do, roaming aimlessly in the unknown streets of Tokyo? Call a taxi, perhaps? Stay at a capsule hotel, most likely? Or more, revel in the sensation of perpetual relief in a host bar?

Kazuha was craving sleep more than he have ever had. Unable to flip his eyelids open, he was switching on and off between consciousness and unconsciousness. He wanted to wave over a taxi, but to him, he didn't know which way was left or right.

He stood in the middle of Tokyo city, looking up to the skies like they were his compass, like they could tell him where to go. He prayed to the stars, for a sign of guidance in this world of blurred faces and inconspicuous roads.