Chapter 20 The Seventh Day of Working

André Gide learned quickly and got the hang of the editorial work very fast. He could complete many tasks well without asking anyone for help.

I wasn't always in the editorial office; I also had to spend a lot of time working in Manhasset. Finally, I met Mr. Fitzgerald for the first time in the past two weeks at a meeting. He summarized the company's performance in the quarter, noting that the stock market was doing well and the growth was optimistic.

I felt gratified to hear this, after all, I was carrying the weight of Mr. Fitzgerald's initial words, "Let's work together to make Manhasset the largest company in Yokohama!"

He also occasionally worked as a bartender at Lupin Bar.

Aside from the occasional near-lateness that earns the bar manager's disapproval, the job is otherwise quite good.

Although it's still in the service industry, at least during those few night shifts I finally didn't have to use my brain!

You know, if you have to use your brain from 7 a.m. to 9 p.m., it will kill you.

During my time working as a bartender, I didn't see Oda Sakunosuke, but Dazai Osamu did come.

Surprisingly, he seemed to remember me.

After Dazai Osamu ordered his drinks, I confirmed with him, "You only want one glass of rye whiskey, right?"

He didn't answer immediately, so I looked up and met his gaze: "Sir?"

The very next second, for no apparent reason, Dazai Osamu burst into laughter.

It wasn't the kind of cheerful laughter; it was more like the smug and mischievous laugh of a child who had won a competition.

"I knew you looked familiar, it's you."

Then he said this nonsensical sentence.

I:"……"

I vaguely understood what he meant, but I still asked, "Do you think I look familiar, sir?"

"That waiter who asked me last time if I had any adults, right?"

"Um."

I was quite surprised that Osamu Dazai remembered me.

After all, not counting today, I've only seen him once before, at Lupin Bar.

"So, sir, you only need a glass of rye whiskey, right?"

"That's right."

"Okay, please wait a moment."

After I handed him the rye whiskey, Dazai Osamu said, "Last time you asked me if I was an adult, but now that I look closely, you probably aren't either, Mr. Bartender."

When he called me "sir," he drew out the words and his voice was a little sticky; I immediately sensed the teasing in it.

“No,” I said, “but minors can also work.”

"I know. I'm just curious, you don't drink?"

"I've never had it."

"Huh?" Dazai Osamu rested his chin on his hand. "So, you came to the bar because you're short of money?"

"Not really, you can think of it as experiencing life."

I reasonably suspect that no one came with him today, so Dazai Osamu had to chat with me out of boredom.

But I am, after all, a qualified employee, and adhering to the principle of providing satisfactory service to customers, so we had a fairly good conversation.

“How interesting.” His exposed left eye curved slightly, the dim yellow light illuminating his deep, iris-colored eyes, the light and shadow cutting across his shoulder. “My name is Dazai Osamu.”

"I've heard of you."

His eyes lit up, showing anticipation for my answer: "Hmm?"

"You are a well-known figure on the Yokohama local forum, Mr. Osamu Dazai of the Port Mafia."

Osamu Dazai is the most famous figure on the Yokohama Forum.

Countless people posted about encountering Mr. Dazai today, and the comments below were filled with either envy or lamentation.

He was taken aback for a moment, then laughed: "Pfft."

“How interesting.” Dazai Osamu took a sip of rye whiskey, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “So, young bartender, may I ask your name?”

I:"……"

God knows why I sensed a kind of abduction in Dazai Osamu's words.

"name?"

"Yes."

It's impossible to reveal her full real name.

None of my many pseudonyms use my full name. Either I use a single character or word from my full name, like I do at Manhasset, or I make one up myself, like I do at Yokohama Publishing.

The things that the pseudonym did have nothing to do with Edakawa.

The names of my previous online aliases were all made up, like "Ichimori," "Ermori," "Sanmori," "Sitiao," "Wutiao," "Liutiao," "Qihai," "Bahai," and "Jiuhai," just like production numbers on a factory assembly line.

However, this led to a problem: sometimes I couldn't react when people called me by my katakana. I also realized that having so many complicated katakana characters wasn't really necessary, but using my full name didn't make me feel at ease, so I simply changed it to taking one of the characters from my name.

Zhichuan or.

Use it or it's the most convenient.

Because a lot of people will call me or...

“Aru,” I said.

"Aru?"

Dazai Osamu lowered his head, his slender fingers tracing the character "ある" (aru) little by little on the wooden countertop.

"Is this it? ある, or."

"Yes."

“Or.” He extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Or.”

The hand that came into my view had distinct knuckles and appeared slightly yellow under the light. A bandage covered the wrist and extended all the way to the elbow, its original white color also turning slightly yellow.

That hand didn't look very strong, it seemed so fragile that it would break at any moment, but I knew that it was actually far more complicated than that.

"It is my honor, Mr. Dazai."

The moment our bodies touched, I felt a cool sensation, like the temperature of rye whiskey.

"Do you come to this bar often?"

"No, my part-time job is actually quite short." I answered Dazai Osamu's question while wiping the glassware. "I only started working part-time recently, and I've only come a few times so far."

He smiled and replied, "You've met me twice out of those few times? What a coincidence, Mr. Or."

My thoughts were easily led astray by him. After thinking about it for a moment, I felt that what Dazai Osamu said made a lot of sense: "Now that you mention it, it seems like we are quite destined to meet. ... But speaking of which, I have a question for you."

"What?"

I stopped what I was doing and asked, "Why do you remember me, Mr. Dazai? Apart from today, we've only met once before. I don't think anyone would remember a bartender they've only met once. Is it just because I asked you if you were an adult?"

“That can only be one reason.” Dazai Osamu raised his index finger, then slowly extended his second finger. “There’s another one.”

"?"

He folded his four fingers together, and with remarkable dexterity, he turned his wrist so that the tip of his remaining index finger was pointing towards me.

“Because of Ori-kun’s eyes.” Dazai Osamu said, leaning closer to me with his hands on the counter.

In an instant, I remembered April of last year.

When I met Maki at the train station in Tokyo and then went back to the vocational high school with her, the first time I met Mr. Gojo, he also suddenly approached me like this.

I didn't have time to dodge then, but now I instinctively took half a step back.

Coming back to his senses, his gaze fell on Dazai Osamu's eyes. He smiled slightly and uttered a line similar to that of Gojo-sensei during the cherry blossom season in April: "It's blue, isn't it?"

"It is indeed blue, but Dazai-san, it's a bit scary for you to suddenly get so close."

"Sorry, sorry, the lighting was too dim." He waved his hand, his apology sounding half-hearted. "Huo Jun's eyes are very unique, so I remembered them the moment we made eye contact."

"I see."

Although I said "I see," I didn't really understand what made my eyes unique.

In my opinion, if we're talking about truly unique eyes, it has to be Teacher Wu Tiao.

His eyes were the same shade of blue as mine, but a lighter shade; looking into them felt like gazing at an endless sky stretching into the distance.

To put it in more artistic terms, it has a great sense of layering.

****

If Dazai Osamu had to explain why he said Edakawa or that his eyes were unique, he might have used the waves of Yokohama Harbor as an example.

Dazai Osamu wasn't entirely sure about Edagawa Aru's eye color at first, as the light shining from above the bar counter was a faint yellow.

The dim lighting, which wasn't white, undoubtedly made color identification more difficult, forcing him to tentatively conclude that the underage waiter had dark eyes.

The reason why it can be deduced that Erikawa's eyes are dark blue is partly due to his close inspection, and partly due to Nakahara Chuuya.

Chuuya Nakahara has blue eyes.

Dazai Osamu was familiar with the color of Chuuya Nakahara's irises from every angle and under every light, so by comparison, he concluded that Ori Edagawa's eyes were also blue.

When his eyes are calm, they resemble the sea level in a harbor, possessing an inexplicable inclusiveness; when his emotions surge, they easily evoke images of rolling waves.

Combined with the deep blue color, describing those eyes as the ocean is absolutely accurate.

Dazai Osamu was quite pleased with his association. He drank the last bit of rye in his cup and didn't forget to put down his partner: "Even though they're both blue, Aru-kun's eyes are much better looking than Chuuya's."