A tale of two secretaries...Written for a one hour challenge.
Kindred Spirits
Somewhere in Tokyo, there’s a place you’ve never been to before.
To call it discreet is flattery; it is a little bar tucked into the corner of a thoroughly unpopular restaurant. Amazingly, even the lure of alcohol is somehow eclipsed by the French-Indian-Italian blend of cooking that is purely Japanese in orientation; the ideal restaurant for those who want a taste of foreign food without having to be particularly adventurous. Here, spicy curries are magically turned creamy and sweet, while steaks are pared down to slivers of thoroughly cooked meat that borders jerky, and carbonara is sluiced with squids and mussels.
But really, the food quality is not particularly important. Tonight, Tatsumi’s here to drink.
The best part about this place is that none of his coworkers know of the existence of this place. It was something that he researched very thoroughly. For a bar, it had to be obscured behind the veil of another establishment (the restaurant). As a dining establishment, it had to have food that had to be completely mediocre (Tsuzuki - check), an atmosphere that was completely unwelcome to parties (Watari, Konoe, Terazuma - check), and a place that had a fully-stocked bar (Hisoka, Wakaba, Yuma, Saya – check).
In essence, all Tatsumi wants is a break from his coworkers. No matter how much he likes them and cares for them, sometimes he just wants to take some time off for himself.
So tonight, he’s at his favorite bar, and who should show up but his occasional drinking partner? It’s never a set time, so their encounters are rare to say the least.
“Good evening.” Tatsumi raises his glass, as the other man joins him at the bar.
“Good evening.” Black hair looking a bit rumpled, in a conservatively fashionable dark gray suit, the other man pulls up a bar stool next to Tatsumi. He seems to be in his mid-twenties, and today, he looks like hell, dark circles beneath his brown eyes suggesting that he could stand to put a serious deposit in the sleep bank.
They never say much more than that, but Tatsumi’s been in his cups for a bit longer than usual tonight, so on a whim, he decides to strike up a conversation.
“Going to have your usual tonight? Vodka with soda and lime?” Tatsumi asks congenially as he sips at his gin and tonic.
“Ah, not tonight,” the other man says. “It’s been a long day.” He gestures for the bartender, and orders a shot of tequila.
“One of those days?”
“Unfortunately. That employer of mine…” The young man shakes his head, as the bartender pours. “He’s quite the terror. You cannot imagine what cleaning up after his messes are like.” The young man downs the shot in one shaky gulp, setting the shotglass down on the bar, choking a bit. Solicitously, Tatsumi reaches over and pats him on the back as he coughs.
“Ah thank you,” the young man replies.
“Not at all,” Tatsumi says. “But I can understand – my coworkers can be terrors too. Recently, two of the managed to summon their Shik….er….destroy…ah…damage the library through their negligence.”
“My employer needed me to rig explos….er…that is, help with the rewiring of a ship. I had to take extra night classes through the internet just to learn the skill,” the young man says ruefully. “You can’t imagine how hard it is to requisition that many pounds of dyna…um….spools of specialty wire.”
“What do you do?” Tatsumi asks, as he finishes his drink and gestures for another round, this time ordering his companion something a little less potent.
“I work as a secretary for a doctor in Tokyo,” the young man says.
“Really? I’m a secretary as well. But not for an individual person,” Tatsumi adds. “For a department.”
There’s a little pause in which the two of them digest their similarities, Tatsumi in his conservative brown suit and cobalt blue tie, the young man in his conservative dark gray suit with pale blue tie.
“Then you must understand the way I feel,” the young man says, raking his fingers through his short black hair. “Working for Sensei, even though he is a very accomplished man and a decade my senior, is like babysitting a child sometimes. ‘It’s time for your appointment.’ ‘Sensei, the coffee is done.’”
The young man takes a long gulp of his drink, and continues. “’Sensei, your mail is here.’ ‘Sensei, your helicopter has been arranged.’ ‘No, please do not kidnap another one, you already have the requisite three that you needed.’ Really, he is so troublesome!”
Tatsumi isn’t sure if he heard that last comment correctly, so he decides to ignore it, blaming it on the drink (he’s on his fourth or fifth, he’s not sure). “I strongly agree. Except imagine a whole horde of children – if I had known better, I should have applied to become an elementary school teacher. At least they get better compensation.” At that, the two nod to each other in sympathy, as everyone in Japan knows that schoolteachers are paid the best.
Tatsumi continues. “Every day, it’s ‘No, you cannot have an extension – the paperwork was due two weeks ago.’ ‘No eating in the general office.’ ‘You’re an hour late from lunch.’ ‘What did I tell you about summoning your shikigami indoors?!’ ‘You cannot put ofuda through the photocopier – they must be done by hand.’ These coworkers of mine…” Tatsumi makes a helpless gesture. “Those idiots had better stay out of my way.”
“I am tempted to get that printed on a t-shirt,” the young man grins, as the bartender pours him another drink, anticipating the fact that he’s already down to the ice. “Because in addition to Sensei, I have to fend off his nursing staff who seem to think that we are The Ideal Couple That Need to Become One in Our Quest for Twu Wuv.”
“I have the same problem!” Tatsumi replies. “There is a faction of my coworkers - I’ll call them the ‘Boy’s Love Bunch’ – who are completely obsessed with trying to put me into a compromising position with any of the other male coworkers – almost every one! They’ve asked our resident mad scien…chemist to brew them up aphrodisiacs and love potions to spike my food, they’ve planted cameras everywhere (I spend two days a month every month trying to debug the office), and they’ve got a bounty out for any hint of inappropriate behavior – even a quiet chat with a coworker over procedures will bring them scurrying to the door to listen.”
“I have the same problem!” the young man adds, as he sips his drink. “I keep getting pushed into my employer as if ‘by accident’ when we talk in the hallways. Just the other day, one of them suggested that I wear a French maid’s outfit when I am over at my employer’s residence. Really, they’re just lucky that he is a patient man and kind man, because anyone else would have had them murdered already!”
Tatsumi sighs, and looks at the time. It’s far too late for him to be out – he’s got work in the morning. As if on cue, the young man’s done the same. It’s an odd little moment of similarity that has Tatsumi adjusting his glasses thoughtfully, just as the young man adjusts his tie with the same expression.
Tatsumi blinks, and the young man blinks back.
They’re kindred spirits. Tatsumi smiles, pleasantly surprised. “All this time, we’ve drank and talked, but I’ve never managed to catch your name.”
“Sakaki,” the young man says, reaching over to shake Tatsumi’s hand. “Everyone calls me that. And you?”
“Tatsumi,” Tatsumi replies. “Tatsumi Seiichirou.”
“Did you say Seiichirou?”
“Yes.”
“Seiichirou is my name too. Sakaki Seiichirou. Though everyone calls me Sakaki or Sakaki-san – so much so that I sometimes forget I have a personal name,” Sakaki says.
“That happens to me as well,” Tatsumi says. “Sometimes, I think I’m the only one with this problem.”
“It’s a pain that I know all too well,” Sakaki says thoughtfully, perhaps a bit sadly. “Reduced to a surname…Ah, please excuse me. It’s getting late, so I must go now. Perhaps we’ll meet another time?”
“Perhaps. Good night, Seiichirou-san.” Tatsumi raises his glass, a little salute to a fellow comrade-in-arms.
“Good night to you too, Seiichirou-san.” Sakaki clinks his empty glass against Tatsumi’s, before setting it down on the condensation-slicked surface of the bar. He settles his bill, and leaves Tatsumi to his own devices as he leaves the restaurant.
Tatsumi is feeling a little melancholy, as he downs the rest of his drink, feeling the effects of the alcohol coursing through his system. It’s time to go home, and sleep off the alcohol. Tomorrow is another busy day.
“So…I suppose that this is what it’s like,” Tatsumi says softly to himself, as he sets the heavy glass down on the bar, sliding it down toward the bartender. “…when doves cry.”
Completed for a 1 hour fic challenge.
Milhouse: Is this the untimely end of Milhouse?
Boy: [pause] But Milhouse is my name!
Milhouse: But I thought I was the only one!
Boy: [shakes head] A pain I know all too well.
Milhouse: So this is what it feels like...when doves cry