Dearest mother and father,

You would never believe this in a thousand years, but I have found myself in the distant future, where music can be heard on portable metal boxes, and people travel about in steel carriages without the aid of livestock.

As I say this now, my wife Kumiko is having a bath. Or perhaps what is known as a shower. I can hear the rapidly pouring water from where I sit, and it confuses me that anyone would subject themselves to such torture. But, then again, she has never been an ordinary woman, and I daresay this is another one of her quirks.

Anyhow, I apologise for rambling. Today is the day I begin my new job, so if you are watching over me, I pray that you'll wish me the best in this undertaking.

Your ever-dutiful son, Ichiro

******

"I'm glad you could make it this morning," Futoshi grumbled, dragging a chair out from beneath the dining table to make it clear that he was less than thrilled about taking Ichiro under his wing. "Why don't you take a seat?"

"Of course. It is an honour." Ichiro swallowed his apprehension and shuffled forwards. He tugged lightly at his hakama so that he could sit facing the old man. "What duties can I expect?"

Futoshi sighed and glanced to the right. Ichiro noticed a tall white cabinet with silver handles and wondered what was stored inside of it.

"To be honest, it isn't ideal for you to be around today. I have someone coming over to deal with Tsutomu, and-"

"Hey, what's this about?" A familiar face suddenly protruded from the wall behind Futoshi, causing Ichiro to freeze in surprise. "You can't get rid of me. I still have unfinished business!"

"Shut your trap," Futoshi snapped at Tsutomu. "I don't need you phasing through walls when I'm trying to sleep or take a dump."

A look of shame spread over Tsutomu's face as he slowly retreated. "I'm sorry. You know I don't do it on purpose..."

Futoshi turned back around after Tsutomu had disappeared from view. "You see what I have to put up with? You can thank your wife for that."

Ichiro wasted no time in defending Kumiko. "I don't think she intended to create an inconvenience. She must have thought this was the best solution."

"Whatever you say. Madame Ether will be here soon anyway, and she'll do her best to drive your salaryman friend out of this place."

"I don't think it will be that easy. You might not know this, but he took over my body twice."

Futoshi leant back in his chair and rolled his eyes. "Don't take me for some fool. I was there when it happened."

"Oh."

"Anyway, I should give you a quick interview before we get down to business. What do you say?"

As someone who had once been guaranteed to inherit his parents' teashop, Ichiro was not accustomed to the idea of being trialled before starting employment. He stood up to protest.

"Surely there must be another way? I can start working right now if you want me to."

"No." Futoshi waved for him to sit back down. "This is important for determining your level of experience and suitability."

Ichiro felt his chest tighten as he complied. He was not looking forward to this at all.

"First, tell me your full name, age, and birth date."

"My name is Ichiro, I am twenty-three years of age, and I was born in the fifth year of Tenshō."

"Interesting answer, but you haven't told me your last name."

"That's because I don't have one."

"Nonsense. Everybody does."

Ichiro let his chest puff out once more. "Not where I come from."

"Is that really so?"

"Yes."

Futoshi sighed and leant forward an inch. "All right. I might as well refer to you like I do with Kumiko."

"And what is that?"

"Takahashi-san."

Ichiro blinked while thinking about his hometown by the sea and what his family had done for a living. "It's not very fitting, but I'll accept it for now."

"Brilliant. Let's move on to the next question. What can you bring to this position?"

Once again, Ichiro drew on memories of his old life to form a coherent answer. "I am polite and respectful, and many people say I am charming too. I am capable of setting my mind on a task and seeing it through to the end. These virtues should allow me to become a worthy assistant and establish a good relationship with the tenants."

Futoshi's stern expression faded, and he smiled for the first time that morning. "That was good. I thought Kumiko was only into your looks, but it turns out you have some brains after all."

Ichiro found himself confused by the apparent praise. "I'm not sure what you're talking about. I only have one."

What little joy on Futoshi's face immediately vanished and gave way to disappointment. "I take back my compliment. You really are just a pretty face."

"How is that so?" Ichiro felt betrayed by the old man's change in demeanour. "I was merely stating what I know to be true. And even if I was wrong, that information is hardly useful for whatever this profession demands."

Futoshi shrunk back in his seat. "Hey, I was just joking. You were right about the whole brain thing."

"Really?" Ichiro slowly found the will to relax again. "That is a relief..."

"I didn't expect you to take my words so literally, but I'll try being careful from now on. Shall we proceed?"

"Of course. I just want to get this over with."

"Okay," Futoshi inhaled with much effort as if what he was about to say would be weighty indeed. "There's something you should know about the tenants here. If you think Kumiko is strange, you'll be in for a rude awakening when you meet the others."

"I'll have you know that I've long since grown accustomed to Kumiko's peculiarities."

"Very well, I'll brief you on them. Konno-san lives in apartment number one. She's a middle-aged divorcee with an alcoholism problem and a hunger for young men like yourself."

"Oh," Ichiro muttered before pushing down his dread. "I believe I can handle that."

"She was a trophy wife until her husband had an affair with an even younger woman. Now she tries to get back at him by going to host clubs and flirting with as many men as possible."

"That sounds familiar."

"Then you should be well-equipped to deal with her. I'll tell you about apartment two's resident, Suzuki-san. He's eighty years old and has lived through two wars, so there isn't much that frightens him anymore. He's hard of hearing though, and you may find yourself having to repeat stuff all the time."

"I can handle that too," Ichiro replied. He had seen plenty of survivors of war, so another hardly seemed daunting when compared to an indecent old woman. "Is there anyone else I should know about?"

"Yes. A new tenant is moving into apartment four next week. He's a migrant worker from Korea, but I wouldn't worry about that now. Just focus on getting to know those two."

"I shall." Ichiro made sure to demonstrate his gratitude with a bow of the head. "Thank you for this opportunity."

"There's no need." Futoshi glanced at the silver band around his wrist. "We have an hour until Madame Ether arrives, so you'll need to help me clean up this place."

"I suppose I can do that."

"Good." Futoshi stood up in a hurry, prompting Ichiro to do the same. "One more thing. How good are you at making tea?"

******

The lack of tea ceremony utensils at Futoshi's place forced Ichiro to make do with a less impressive range of equipment. After rummaging through the kitchen drawers, he found an oversized metal whisk, a shallow wooden ladle, a large white crock, and a small cloth with black stripes. He arranged all of these on the tray alongside the steaming kettle and tea caddy and carefully lifted the ensemble before stepping into the living room.

Relief coursed through his body when he reached Futoshi and Madame Ether without spilling a single drop of water. He bent both knees to set the tray gently down on the low table, which attracted the attention of Madame Ether. She gave a modest smile as he knelt down to greet them both.

"Welcome. My name is Ichiro, and I shall be your tea host for today." He bowed to each of them for they were his elders, then straightened his back. "Do you have any inquiries?"

"Yes," Madame Ether said in a doting tone that reminded Ichiro of his long-departed grandmother. "I know you're an acquaintance of Futoshi, but would you mind telling me your exact relationship?"

Ichiro fixated on the floral prints of her black shirt while struggling to find an answer. "Uh, well, I..."

"He's my nephew from the countryside," Futoshi exclaimed while startling Ichiro. "He's here to study and find a girlfriend. You can guess which one he's already achieved..." The old man slapped him on the back to sell the lie further, and he gasped at the blow.

"I see." Madame Ether nodded. "He is certainly a handsome one. But I recall you requesting my assistance in finding him after he ran away. What was that all about?"

Futoshi swore under his breath as Ichiro sat and watched the kettle lose warmth. "Complicated family matters. I'd advise you not to ask too much."

"Very well." Madame Ether relented, then focused on Ichiro. "You may proceed. Show us your expertise."

"It is my pleasure," Ichiro said softly before breathing in and out to relax his body. He reached out to take the tea cloth and then the tea caddy. With soft and smooth hand movements, he wiped it as a means of purification while observing Tsutomu slip into the room through the corner of his vision.

An opportune moment for you to show up, Ichiro thought in satisfaction. If this old lady is really what she claims to be, then this should be the last I ever see of you...