XXII: Moon

MOON I

"You're just leaving?"

Shinjiro only had one bag slung over his shoulder, which he looked over to meet the conflicted gaze of his only friend. It was clear that Akihiko was of two minds about the situation; as if he wasn't happy with it but accepted that he could do nothing to change it. He'd really matured over the past year.

"Tell your friends it was nice to meet them," he replied simply. With that, he left the dormitory and all of the bad memories it contained behind him.

Friday nights were almost always the busiest, but that wasn't such a bad thing. As long as Shinjiro had something to do with his hands, he was able to shut off his brain until his shift was over. Tatsumi Port Island only seemed to get more crowded over the past few years, which might explain how he was still seeing new faces so often.

You'd think the whole Apathy Syndrome scare would make people think twice, but no one seemed to remember. That's how it goes, isn't it? Some high school kids save the world and everything goes back to normal. No one gave a second look to the homeless teenagers sprawled out over the city unless they got caught stealing a jacket during winter. No one wondered who had to pay to correct the mistakes a bunch of selfish adults made.

They just kept building their skyscrapers higher and higher. Maybe the higher up they were, the less dirty everything below looked. Shinjiro wouldn't know; he'd never been up in any of those buildings and couldn't imagine he'd ever get there.

The kitchen suited him fine, anyway. Line cook wasn't the type of job he ever imagined himself taking, but his life had more or less sorted itself out since everything calmed down. Club Escapade was close by and the manager didn't care that he didn't have a formal education. His constant, insincere smile was hard to look at for too long, but he was a decent person. He said that two years of high school was 'close enough' and didn't ask what put Shinjiro into the hospital when his friends were graduating.

He wasn't proud to admit that he let his mind wander while working with knives or quickly plating hot food, but he'd yet to make any big mistakes so it was probably fine. It was kind of nice to pretend things were normal for a little bit, and that's how work was for him. Aki always said he 'got in his own head' too much, whatever that meant.

Even if he had a point, it was a stupid saying.

"Hey," a casual voice cut-in, interrupting his usual cyclical thought process. Steam from the large industrial sink crept up his forearms, sleeves rolled up to keep them from getting damp. He finished scrubbing the few dishes that had piled up, not bothering to turn and see who was vying for his attention.

"Hey," the voice said again, with a little extra emphasis that didn't concern itself with appearing tactful. They didn't wait for acknowledgement this time. "Your shift ended half an hour ago, Shinjiro-kun. If you really don't have anything better to do than wash dishes here for free, please don't say so. It'll just bum me out."

Shinjiro grimaced as he wiped his hands on a clean dish towel that was hanging nearby, taking a moment to wipe his face as well before turning to his co-worker. She was a perky but very blunt girl with tan skin and hair that was always twisted into a tight bun that never budged an inch during her shifts. He didn't know much about styling hair, but he figured that meant she was very good at it. The low, stubby ponytail he pulled his hair into for work never stayed neat-looking for long.

"I wouldn't have to do this if we weren't short on help lately," he replied flatly, dropping the dish towel over the edge of the sink where it belonged. "Thanks for reminding me to leave, though. Now it's your job to pick some lucky sucker to clean the stove - and I mean the whole thing this time." He almost added that he didn't care whether or not his acting like a sad sack with nowhere to be on a weekend night bummed her out or not, but it wasn't worth it. He learned the hard way in high school that being an asshole was never a good default way to approach people you saw often.