#18: Tovarich
“From cradle to grave” — a slogan for a social welfare policy meant to watch over every citizen across their entire lifespan. In the modern day, the phrase gets used just as often for sprawling, multi-industry corporate conglomerates.
Headquartered in Shimbashi, Hibiya Trading was exactly that kind of “cradle to grave” corporate giant.
“So, we’d be grateful if you’d give this some consideration.”
The conference floor, carved out of a single entire level of the company’s own building, was lined with private rooms like a bank of karaoke booths. Every single one required authentication just to enter — mildly exhausting, if impressively secure.
Reeling from the sheer gap in office quality compared to her own hometown pencil shop, Mikoto finished her presentation and studied the client rep’s expression.
“What do you think, Okamura— I mean, Yanase-senpai?”
The new hire on Hibiya’s side deferred to the judgment of the superior seated beside her — Yanase Sanae.
Four people total sat in on the presentation. From Meiji Stationery: Mikoto and Shiina. From Hibiya: the employee who’d just spoken, plus Sanae.
Shiina had left everything entirely up to Mikoto, and Sanae had mentioned bringing her junior along as part of new-hire training — which meant this meeting, functionally, came down to a face-off between just the two of them.
“Let’s see…”
Sanae pinched the bridge of her nose, as if warding off a headache. A ring glinted on her fourth finger. “Okamura” — the name the new hire had used a moment ago — was probably her maiden name.
“…Iida-kun. Could you show Aomi-san to the viewing room? Kurosu-san, please stay. I’d like to hear more about the specifications in detail. Is that all right?”
“Uh— um, yes. Understood.”
Sanae gave her instructions to the new hire and sent Shiina off, presumably judged as unnecessary to the rest of this particular conversation. The six-person conference room emptied down to just Mikoto and Sanae.
Even a top-tier firm like this, apparently, kept its secrecy tightly enforced.
Just as Mikoto flipped to the specifications section of her materials to move the meeting forward, Sanae said something shocking.
“This is sudden, but let me be direct. Kurosu-san — you’re currently under suspicion of corporate espionage.”
“Wha— WHAAAT?!”
The sheer shock of it beat out any denial Mikoto might have managed.
Before Mikoto could even get the words out, Sanae fixed her with a calm, dark, clear-eyed stare.
“Of course, we’ve already confirmed it’s baseless. Please, don’t worry.”
“I— I’m sorry, I don’t quite follow…”
“Let me explain.”
What Sanae described was the classic dark underbelly of a large corporation.
The story went back a few days. Within Hibiya’s own planning department, someone had raised suspicions of an information leak — specifically, regarding the digital notepad proposal. Someone who’d reviewed the proposal Meiji Stationery had sent over had accused them of stealing “their” concept, and was apparently preparing to take legal action against Meiji Stationery.
“…That’s the situation, in short. Any thoughts?”
“I didn’t steal anything!”
“Yes. I’m quite certain of that. A thief doesn’t return what they’ve stolen — normally, they sell it off to a third party.”
“Then why is this even happening…”
Leaning her small frame back against her chair, Sanae’s expression twisted openly into a scowl.
“…My own guess is that the actual thief is sitting inside our planning department. Hiding behind the authority of a major corporation, stealing your proposal, Kurosu-san, and now shameless enough to threaten legal action on top of it — an absolute disgrace.”
The sudden, out-of-nowhere revelation left Mikoto’s thoughts scrambling to keep up. All she could grasp, on pure instinct, was that she’d been dragged into something deeply inconvenient.
Sanae rose from her chair and bowed sharply.
“My apologies. I’m terribly sorry to have caused you trouble over such an embarrassing matter within our own company.”
“Ah, no — more than that, I’m still struggling to fully process the situation…”
“Regardless, please understand this is a genuinely dangerous situation. Which brings me to a proposal.”
“A proposal?”
Sanae wrote a date, time, and location on the back of her business card.
—The Maverick, a luxury hotel in the city. Tomorrow, 5 p.m.
“This is a standing reception bringing together project staff from across the entire Hibiya Group. I’d like to ask for your cooperation — attend this party with us and help flush out the actual thief.”
“Wa— wait, please. This isn’t something I can decide on my own authority…”
“Time is of the essence here. If we handle this poorly, it could threaten not just you personally, Kurosu-san, but Meiji Stationery’s very survival.”
“I— um…! I don’t even know what to say…”
She’d been swept into a situation far more dangerous than she’d imagined. Refuse Sanae’s proposal, and Meiji Stationery and Hibiya Trading would likely head straight into a courtroom battle. Worse, Mikoto herself would be in real danger — accused of espionage, potentially even facing arrest. She had no room left to choose otherwise.
“I’m well aware this is an unreasonable request from someone you’ve only just met. Would you be willing to help? If you place your trust in me, I’m prepared to arrange favorable terms for your company’s future business, in return.”
“Um — is there any… proof I could trust you, Yanase-san?”
“Proof that I’m trustworthy, is it…”
Just to be safe, Mikoto wanted some confirmation Sanae was actually reliable. Not that she expected any real proof to come of it — but she asked regardless.
Sanae thought it over for a moment before answering.
“…I act, first and foremost, in the interest of my own advancement within this company. If I manage to flush out the thief, I gain leverage over the planning department — a debt I can call in from them later. Is that not sufficient?”
Sanae wore a chillingly composed smile — the exact kind of smile that sends a shiver down your spine. Whether or not it counted as trustworthy, it certainly spoke to real resolve.
“U— understood, I’ll do it. I just need to show up, right?! At this party thing?!”
“Thank you. We’ll prepare an alias and cover title for you on our end. Please keep this matter strictly between us.”
The moment she stepped out of Hibiya Trading’s building, Mikoto’s shoulders sagged under a crushing weight. She couldn’t exactly consult Shiina, who’d tagged along, and there was no telling Rinko or the managing director either.
Attending a party this dangerous entirely alone was, to begin with, a genuinely nerve-wracking prospect. And the people she’d be up against were sharp operators, cut from the same cloth as Yanase Sanae.
Why me, of all people? Mikoto agonized.
Handling something like this took someone with a wide range of conversation topics, sharp instincts, and a real talent for reading between the lines during a battle of wits.
What would she do, in this situation?
Turning over that useless thought, Mikoto spent the rest of the workday not speaking to a single soul, silently plowing through whatever tasks sat in front of her. It was the only thing keeping her calm.
＊
“Oh my, quite the pale face tonight. Did you forget your wallet?”
“No, I’ve got my wallet…”
“And not even your usual air of putting on airs. Is something the matter, Mikoto-san?”
The edge of Roppongi. Girls’ bar Antiqua.
Unable to confide in anyone about the accusation she’d heard from Sanae that afternoon at Hibiya Trading, Mikoto had fled straight to Shandy’s side. She’d managed to compose her expression somewhat on the way in, but Shandy’s eyes alone were never going to be fooled. Whatever she was hiding, seen through instantly.
“Something’s put me in a bit of a crisis, work-wise…”
“Hmm? Then shall we forget about it? With alcohol.”
“No, um, I’m really not in the mood for drinking tonight, actually…”
“Not much of a mood for coming to see me either, from the looks of things. Well then — tonight, let’s make solving the mystery of Mikoto-san’s gloom into the game itself.”
“This is a bit beyond a game, honestly…”
Slumped face-down on the counter, Mikoto felt Shandy’s hand settle against the back of her head. After a few soothing pats, she spoke.
“…Bringing work into Antiqua isn’t usually allowed, but tonight’s a special exception. Go ahead and tell me.”
“Shandy-saaan…”
“Ha, a clingy little Mikoto-san — how adorable.”
Mikoto poured out everything from that afternoon, start to finish. Punctuating it with the occasional “oh my” and “hmm?”, Shandy listened the whole way through, then broke into a small, satisfied smile.
“I see. Your winning condition, Mikoto-san, is to slip into this party and catch the actual thief. Win, and your innocence is proven — with the added bonus of a powerful backer.”
“That’s right.”
“But fail, and the company goes under. You end up framed as the thief, headed straight to prison. And we’d never get to see each other again.”
“That’s… right…”
She wasn’t wrong. Through absolutely no fault of her own, Mikoto had been dragged into a situation with no precedent. A genuine false accusation, with zero room left for failure.
Shandy narrowed her amber eyes and spoke.
“…Sounds rather fun, doesn’t it?”
“Fun?! What part of this is fun?!”
“Well, becoming a spy in order to expose a spy — it’s practically a movie plot, isn’t it? Care for a Martini?”
“I’m not James Bond!”
“Ha, quite right. A spy putting on airs would hardly look the part.”
“This isn’t a laughing matter for me…”
Head drooping in defeat, Mikoto found Shandy holding out a glass. An unordered cocktail, presented right in front of her.
“I told you, I’m not in the mood for—”
“No, you’ll be draining this one. A Tovarich, with me.”
Tovarich.
A vodka-based cocktail named for the Russian word for “comrade.” A sharp, meadow-fresh herbal scent pierced her nose — the signature note of kümmel, an herb-infused liqueur used as the secondary spirit. Lime juice’s acidity held both spirits together. Drink it once, and you’ll become tovarich — comrades — with anyone, or so the cocktail book Mikoto had once read claimed. Its accuracy was, at best, questionable.
“What exactly are you getting at, Shandy-san…?”
“What do you think I’m getting at?”
“Please, no answering a question with a question right now… I don’t have the composure left to enjoy a game tonight…”
“Ha. I’m saying — shall I help you?”
“Wha—?!”
Shandy lifted her own Tovarich glass, holding it out, the liquid swaying gently as if waiting for Mikoto to raise her own in return.
“You promised me, didn’t you, Mikoto-san — that you’d come to Antiqua every day. But if, worst case, you end up caught up with the police, we’d never get to see each other again.”
“…That could genuinely happen, yes.”
“Then there’s only one course of action left for me, isn’t there.”
Shandy sealed her lips without warning — a light, bird-peck of a kiss — then pressed their foreheads together.
Caught in her amber eyes, the gloom weighing on Mikoto scattered somewhere out of reach. Her face burned hot enough to catch fire from embarrassment alone.
“I want to do everything I can for the person I love. Isn’t that simply what love does?”
“I— I’m grateful for the offer, but it’ll definitely cause you trouble. If you’re caught, you might not walk away unscathed either, Shandy-san.”
“Yes, I imagine that’s true. A genuinely risky bridge to cross.”
“Then—”
Sealing Mikoto’s half-finished sentence with a fingertip against her lips, Shandy smiled.
“The only one allowed to defeat you, Mikoto-san, is me.”
“Defeat me — this isn’t a game, you know?”
“To me, it’s much the same thing. I have no interest in watching you lose to some boring little thief. The only one who gets to defeat you is me, and no one else.”
Something in the way Shandy said it — half alluring, half mischievous — left Mikoto, for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, genuinely reassured.
“But how would you even manage—”
“The party’s at a hotel, isn’t it? One more guest slipping in probably wouldn’t even register.”
She had a point. The guest list Sanae had sent over ran well past a hundred names. With that many people, blending into the crowd would be no trouble at all.
But the real problem was—
“No, but you’d stand out, Shandy-san. Blonde hair, that face…”
“Would I, though? Standing next to a beauty like you, Mikoto-san, mightn’t it just work out fine?”
“It really won’t! Besides, you’d be a total outsider to the situation…”
“Being an outsider is exactly what lets someone see things clearly, I’d think.”
“Regardless — I appreciate the thought, but this is something I have to handle on my own.”
Even as she said it, the loneliness of the situation weighed heavily on her. If she was honest with herself, she wanted nothing more than to drain her Tovarich and have Shandy come along with her. Somehow, she felt certain, Shandy could make anything work out.
But precisely because Shandy genuinely cared for her, Mikoto couldn’t bring herself to lean on her like that. Unable to shake the vanity of not wanting to show Shandy anything pathetic, Mikoto pulled her hand back from the glass.
“Hmm. Saying it like that only makes me want to tag along out of sheer spite. Where is this party being held, exactly?”
“Hotel Maverick, in Nihonbashi.”
“Maverick…”
Murmuring the name, Shandy’s amber eyes gleamed.
“…Ha.”
“What’s that meaningful little laugh supposed to mean…”
“Oh, nothing! Just thinking this might turn out to be rather fun. Now then, Mikoto-san. Shall we toast, with our Tovarich?”
“I keep telling you, I—”
“Cheers.”
Clinking their glasses together in a kiss of their own, Shandy drained her Tovarich in a single go. True to form for a bartender, her tolerance for alcohol remained as formidable as ever.
Patting the head of a thoroughly deflated Mikoto, Shandy let out a small, satisfied hum.
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you, Mikoto-san.”
“Regardless, I’ll do everything I possibly can…”
The clock had only just passed nine in the evening. In the end, Mikoto left her own Tovarich untouched, paid for it anyway, and left Antiqua behind.
Framed for a crime she had absolutely no part in, her entire future now hanging on tomorrow’s party — the pressure left Mikoto unable to sleep a wink, and she crawled her way, utterly exhausted, into the morning of the day itself.