Friday Evening, 15 March 1985

Ichiro mustered a smile as Mrs. Konno and the host club manager finished their conversation and turned their scrutinizing gazes towards him. The host club manager adjusted his dark red tie while approaching the table where Ichiro was seated. Sharp and narrow eyes, marked by crow's feet, glanced up, then down.

"You've got nice features," the host club manager announced, letting his arm drop before he puffed out his chest. "A bit more polishing, and you could really shine."

Ichiro tried to decipher the meaning of those words, and wondered if his new employer believed him not attractive enough.

"But looks aren't everything. We need charisma and confidence, and you're not showing it with that shy smile."

Mrs. Konno averted her eyes in disappointment, which led Ichiro to realize he'd reflect badly on her if he failed this interview. He inhaled and prepared to put on a good performance.

"That's because Mrs. Konno makes me feel bashful," he hurriedly lied, drawing on one of the many practice conversations he'd had with Kumiko over the past week. "She really is a beautiful woman for her age."

The manager raised a thick black eyebrow while rolling up one of his fists. "Is that so? You're like a schoolboy with a crush. How old are you again?"

"Twenty-three," Ichiro replied with unease. He noticed that Mrs. Konno's cheeks had become flushed.

"Well, you'd better drop the innocent act. This isn't some idol audition."

"Atsushi," Mrs. Konno protested, addressing the manager by his first name, and letting Ichiro know there was a great deal of familiarity between the two. "Stop interrogating the boy and just give him a chance. What girl wouldn't want to look at an angelic face like that?"

The manager expressed his irritation by wrinkling his deeply lined forehead. "You seem to have a lot of faith in this kid, so I'll assume you know what you're talking about as a woman."

"Of course I do." Mrs. Konno placed her arms akimbo. "Picture a young lady tired after a long day at work. All she'll want is to unload her frustrations on someone willing, and who better than this sweet boy right here?"

The manager sighed and studied Ichiro again. "Well, I can't deny that some girls like your type, so I'll let you prove yourself tonight."

Ichiro leaned forward in relief. "You will?"

"Indeed." The manager adjusted his tie again. "When we open tonight, I'll have you go out and scout the streets for customers. If you can bring at least one girl each hour, then the job is yours." He turned back towards Mrs. Konno. "What do you think, Riho? This is the compromise I'm making."

Mrs. Konno lowered her head in defeat. "There was a reason we could never work out, but I suppose what's past is past."

Ichiro took note of her solemn expression, then thought about how he would overcome the challenge presented to him. He'd had no trouble selling tea to people in the past, but in this towering city of Tokyo, he would have to navigate unfamiliar streets and pay attention to social cues he had yet to fully understand.

When Kumiko had shown him around the surrounding area the previous week, his impression of the average city resident was of them being in such a rush that talking to them was pointless. Therefore, he hoped that the evening would be a completely different affair, and he'd be able to find women who were loose on both time and morals.

In other words, the opposite of Kumiko.

The voice of his new manager reached his ears, and he straightened up. "Yes?"

"I said, are you up for the task?"

"Why, of course I am," Ichiro could only say as he had come too far to back out now. "I'll do my very best."

The manager shrugged while striding away from the table to escort Mrs. Konno out of the room. "Let's hope it'll be enough. I don't usually take recommendations from my ex."

They squeezed through the narrow door by the row of metal cabinets, thus leaving Ichiro alone to study his surroundings.

Directly in front of him was a brown and white set of drawers, with the bottom one containing a keyhole that he supposed could only be unlocked by the manager. Common sense told him that it was likely money and important records being stored in there, but he still felt inclined to see what was inside the other drawers.

He left the table and crossed to the other side of the room, where he pulled open the top drawer. It slid out smoothly, revealing two containers. One was a glass jar filled with coarse brown powder, while the other was a green tin box decorated with black and gold lettering.

The jar of brown powder intrigued Ichiro more, so he took it out for inspection. He gave it a gentle shake, and the sifting sound was soothing to his ears.

With a smile, he prepared to return the jar to its original location, only to be startled when the door swung open, and a long shadow snaked into the room.

Ichiro spun around with a racing heart, and laid eyes on an exceptionally tall and handsome man who appeared to be in his late twenties. He wore a matching gray vest and jacket over his white shirt and red tie, which left Ichiro fearing that he was, in fact, underdressed for the occasion.

"Hey," the handsome stranger greeted, showing a lack of concern for propriety. "The name's Hikaru. You must be the new guy Atsushi told me about."

"Hikaru?" Ichiro repeated, for he knew the name from a story he was told as a child. "Like the prince who lived hundreds of years ago?"

"That's right," Hikaru said with a dazzling grin as he raised his thumb in some gesture Ichiro had heard was a sign of approval. "Atsushi gave me that name because I've been here for so long. You could call me a professional at this point."

Ichiro realized this meant Hikaru was his senior in more ways than one, so he bowed while continuing to hold the glass jar. "It's an honor to meet you. My name's Ichiro."

Hikaru laughed. "Hey, I know you're just starting out, but this isn't the office. You don't have to make me coffee."

"Coffee?" Ichiro stood up straight and looked down at the jar a second time. "Is that what this is?"

"Yes. Didn't you know?"

Ichiro glanced at the open drawer behind him. "Then, what's in the green box?"

"Tea. Have you been living under a rock?"

"Uh..." Ichiro swallowed and struggled to form a proper explanation for his ignorance. "Well, you see, where I come from, the tea leaves get picked by hand. Then they get made into tea bricks and transported on carts..."

"Ah." Hikaru nodded, apparently believing his outdated account of tea production. "You must be from the country. They still do things the old-fashioned way over there."

"Yes," Ichiro replied, feeling glad that he had avoided humiliation. "Yes, I am."

Hikaru smiled again. "Interesting. I take it you're a tea lover, then?"

"Yes. How do you know?"

"Just a hunch." He leaned his arm against the doorframe. "Anyways, I hope you can make it through Atsushi's challenge, since I already know just the stage name for you."

"Huh?" Ichiro uttered in confusion, but it was too late. Hikaru had already turned to leave, bumping his head ungracefully against the door frame before rubbing his forehead and ducking through with a grunt.

Not so charming anymore, are you?

Seeing his so-called senior make an embarrassing blunder gave Ichiro hope that perhaps he could also succeed if he was willing to learn and be as cunning as possible. After all, he wasn't so tall that even buildings of the future couldn't accommodate his size. Nor was he so much of a degenerate that he would drink cow's milk when there were more ethical ways to strengthen one's bones.

Ichiro noticed that he was still holding the jar of coffee, so he raced to return it to the top drawer before taking his place at the table to continue observing his surroundings.

******

In the hour or so before opening time, Ichiro succeeded in using an electric kettle by himself, and made a cup of tea that tasted stale compared to what he was accustomed to. Then, he encountered another host, who introduced themselves by the strange name of Chaplin, and performed a bizarre dance that involved sliding the feet backwards, then twirling like a spinning top.

"What did you just do?" Ichiro asked, feeling quite perplexed.

"Don't you know? It's called the Moonwalk." Chaplin replied brusquely as if such a thing was supposed to be common knowledge. "I guess you're not a fan of Michael Jackson."

"Who?"

Chaplin gestured towards the metal cabinets with a gloved hand. "Fine. Let me educate you." He approached one and turned the dial, then swung the cabinet door open to reveal a glossy poster taped to the inside. Ichiro stared, finding it difficult to believe that he was seeing an image of an actual person.

"This is the guy. What do you think?"

Ichiro couldn't pull his gaze away and chose to point out the obvious. "Is that a man? He's so dark..."

"Well, of course he is. He's a Black American."

"Black?" Ichiro finally managed to blink. "He looks brown to me. Like a clay statue. How did he get that way?"

"By being born?" Chaplin remarked with an incredulous frown. "The same way you and I came into this world looking Japanese."

"I... I see." Ichiro knew by now that Americans and Europeans existed, but it was still hard to imagine them resembling anything other than what he was familiar with. He thought about the tanned farmers that had populated the countryside in his time, then studied the poster again. "So, people can be dark without going into the sun?"

"Yes. That's how it works." Chaplin locked the cabinet door. "You should really broaden your horizons if you can. Our music and films are good, but what's being made beyond our shores is even better. I can introduce you to some of it when we have the time."

Ichiro was tempted to decline, but for the sake of making a good impression on his new colleague, he nodded and put on a smile of delight. "That sounds nice. I'll let you know when I'm available."

"Great." Chaplin flashed him with the exact same thumbs-up gesture Hikaru had done earlier. "Now, I hope you don't mind if I keep practicing the moonwalk. I plan to make the ladies squeal tonight."

"Be my guest," Ichiro said, making use of an expression Kumiko had taught him. "Should I make you some tea?"

Chaplin raised his head while shifting his feet. "No thanks. I prefer coffee."

"All right. Suit yourself."

Ichiro sipped the rest of his tea as Chaplin continued to perform the strange moonwalking dance, occasionally slipping up or bumping into the table, at which point he would return to his original position and start again.

He's putting a lot of effort into something silly, but who knows? Maybe people these days think otherwise...

******

The eighth hour arrived, and the bar staff got to work stocking up drinks while Atsushi approached him for assistance with putting signs outside. Ichiro obliged and followed his manager onto the street, where countless lights glowed brightly, and people were already wandering around in search of entertainment.

Ichiro shielded his eyes with one arm while setting down his sign on one side of the entrance. Atsushi did accordingly a few feet away, though he seemed unfazed by the blinding sights around them.

"Not used to Tokyo yet, are you?" Atsushi asked with more cheer than he'd displayed in the afternoon. "Hikaru told me you're a country boy."

"That's right," Ichiro agreed, knowing this cover would serve him well. "I've only been here for a month."

"So, how are you finding it?"

Ichiro resisted the urge to stare at the bright signs nearby. "This is the busiest place I've ever seen. Everyone always seems to be in a rush, and sometimes for no reason."

"That's city life for you. You either go with the flow or end up crushed. I've seen the latter happen to a friend of mine."

"That sounds terrible."

"Indeed, it was. He couldn't cope with the pressure of life anymore, so he ended up doing the unthinkable. I found out the next morning when I saw an ambulance parked outside his place."

It occurred to Ichiro that Atsushi was alluding to a different sort of demise than he'd assumed, so he lowered his gaze. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Atsushi began heading back towards the entrance. "Well, it's as Riho said. What's past is past, and it's best to keep moving forward." He glanced down at his silver watch. "Which you should do by starting your search right now. Chop chop."

"Oh, right." Ichiro remembered his objective and shuffled backwards before finding the courage to hurry further towards the heart of Kabukichō. He soon pressed himself against a narrow section of wall to watch out for any woman who looked like she could do with some company, which proved difficult, because unlike the men, they all seemed to be accompanied by friends and lost in conversations he did not wish to interrupt.

However, his patience eventually paid off. He spotted a young lady in black and white attire trudging aimlessly on the other side of the street, so he started weaving his way towards her.

He came to a stop in front of her and smiled while hoping that he appeared charming. "Good evening, miss. You look bored and like you need some fun. I can show you a nice place if you want."

The young lady's eyes grew wide as she inched away from him. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm just trying to get home. Have a good evening, sir." She turned her head and brushed past him in her rush to get away, which led Ichiro to guess that he'd been too forthright and had frightened her as a result. He figured that a smarter strategy was in order, so he returned to the narrow wall to start thinking.

******

After some time, Ichiro approached a second woman with a new plan in mind. He held out his hands and feigned distress as a way of getting her attention, then claimed that he had misplaced his wallet and needed help finding it again.

"Oh, is that so?" she asked as her stunned expression turned into one of curiosity. "Could you tell me where you last saw it?"

Ichiro knew that he couldn't give away the name of the host club immediately, so he told another lie. "I'm not sure, but I noticed it was gone after I left a bar. Can I show you to the place if it's all right?"

The young woman rolled her eyes, then shrugged. "Sure. Go ahead."

Glad that his plan was working so far, Ichiro led her back towards Eros Host Club while making an effort to advertise the venue in a way that was misleading. "Anyway, I go to this bar often, and the staff are really hospitable. But tonight is an exception. They're hosting a special event, and the last thing I want is to interrupt the festivities."

"I see what you mean. You want me to help you search discretely."

"Exactly." Ichiro spied the pink and blue sign of the host club a few meters away. "We're almost there, so please don't make a fuss when we go in." 

They arrived outside, and his heart pounded. "Well, this is the place. Follow me."

Hesitation became apparent in the young woman's eyes, but she swallowed and did as he said. Ichiro turned his head away from her as they entered, knowing that his part was done, and it was up to the other hosts to make her stay.

******

After being congratulated by Atsushi for securing the first girl and then reminded that there were still six hours left, Ichiro was sent outside to make use of his wits again. He prowled around, feeling like an animal on the hunt, until an all too familiar face made him freeze and draw annoyed glares from those directly behind him.

"Kumiko, what are you doing here? And why is Hideo with you?"

Hideo placed a hand behind his head and assumed a grin that when combined with his intense eyes, made him look rather sinister. All the while, Kumiko remained unaware and came to Ichiro before taking his hand.

"How are you finding your shift so far? They're not being hard on you, are they?"

Ichiro focused on her beauty and the delicate scent of her perfume instead of Hideo's ghastly visage. "Not at all. I've just been tasked with finding new customers."

"Oh." Kumiko looked back at Hideo and nodded, then turned to Ichiro with a smile. "Well, we're here because we want you to meet a special person. She's quite a delight, and you can even introduce her to your coworkers."

"What are you talking about?" Ichiro craned his neck in the hope of seeing past Hideo, but the man was too tall and sturdy in build. "Who could it possibly be?"

Kumiko didn't answer and kept smiling as Hideo stepped aside to make way for a pretty and waifish girl who appeared no older than twenty or twenty-one. She charged forward with arms outstretched, clearly excited to see him in a way that no stranger should.

"Ichiro!" she squealed, throwing her arms around his waist in a tight hug. "I can't believe it's you! How are you so handsome?"

******

A/N: 'Water trade' is a euphemism used to refer to jobs that don't have a fixed salary, but instead rely on how popular a person gets with their clients/customers. Hosts and hostesses belong to this category of employment.