#80: Angel / ep.2
“I can’t believe it… That’s the woman running Hibiya…”
“So that’s why you’re in such a bad mood. You just got your baptism at the Secretary Division, did you?”
This was Kyōdō. The home bar antiqua, hosted night after night in the home of its owner, who had too much time on her hands. Opening time was whenever the owner felt like drinking, and closing time was whenever she got sleepy, making it a drinking den whose hours were more or less identical to Shandy’s waking hours.
“By the way, why did they send you to the Secretary Division? Weren’t you aiming for a position in the Planning Department?”
There was no lie Mikoto could tell that Shandy’s amber eyes would miss. Like a full moon capable of seeing even the affection hidden in the depths of her heart, perhaps they saw everything.
Even so, Sanae had asked her to keep quiet. She had no choice but to fabricate some plausible reason for why the Secretary Division had summoned her. She wasn’t confident she could keep the lie going, but Mikoto somehow managed to weave a thread of logic through her thoughts.
“Sanae-san was apparently busy, so my contact was transferred to Akazawa-san. She showed me to the Secretary Division, partly to apologise, but…”
“And when you opened the lid, you found a whole parade of harassment. Happens all the time at work.”
Shandy gave a knowing little sniff and knocked back her homemade Shandy Gaff.
Incidentally, Shandy was acquainted with the four members of the Secretary Division who seemed to be either the Four Heavenly Kings or the Four Great Angels, as well as, at least in the guise of Riddle Smith. And according to what Rinko had told her, she had apparently managed to talk all four of them round and win their trust.
The tactless Remi.
Rieru, who hid aggression behind a smile.
Michelle, who made you feel as though you had to react to her.
And Latifa, the section chief, as though someone had boiled down the essence of a veteran office lady.
Mikoto had no idea how Shandy had managed to talk her way through them, but considering Shandy had practically been born talking, she could almost imagine her pulling it off.
Even an argument could probably be a Game to her.
“Speaking of which, where’s Aoi?”
“Yokohama. Apparently Kotone-san called her over.”
“Hm?”
At least the matter of the Secretary Division had been smoothed over, and Mikoto breathed a sigh of relief.
But she was concerned about Kotone calling Aoi over. Kotone was so hard on the country girl that Mikoto couldn’t imagine her summoning Aoi for no reason. She glanced at her phone, but there was still no word from Kotone.
“Didn’t Kotone say anything?”
“Are you worried about your little sister?”
“A sister who sends me something or other every day has been completely silent for three days. Of course I’m a little worried.”
Shandy drained her Shandy Gaff with an innocent expression and smiled.
“Who knows? Perhaps she’s busy.”
As Shandy said, Kotone was probably busy. Even if her stage performances and dramas had been postponed one after another because of the pandemic, celebrities lost work if they weren’t seen. Perhaps she was scrambling to find other ways to keep herself in the public eye.
“Rinko-san’s having a hard time too, becoming a manager at a time like this…”
“Yes. I actually felt sorry for that recognition-refusal otaku for the first time.”
“Recognition-refusal otaku…”
Mikoto remembered Rinko’s face turning bright red as she passionately talked about Kotone.
Kotone really was fortunate to have such a devoted fan. There was a fan club member who never missed a single appearance, radio programme, Instagram Live, or even magazine article, and who followed her every move with unwavering enthusiasm.
Mikoto vaguely knew that some celebrities got involved with their fans. If someone was that devoted to you, she could understand how you might fall for them.
But Rinko was practising recognition refusal.
She didn’t want Kotone to know she existed.
“Though it feels a little late for that now…”
“That too is love. It takes time to change the shape of love.”
Shandy spoke in a wistful tone.
Then, with a sudden “Now then,” she clapped her hands, changing the mood, and placed an empty glass in front of Mikoto.
“Anyway, tonight Mikoto is heartbroken. For a wounded heart, I must prescribe the appropriate medicine.”
“You sound like you’re about to put on a white coat.”
“If the one I wore for cosplay day will do. Nurse cosplay: trousers or skirt, which do you prefer?”
“You just want to wear it, don’t you?”
“Yes. If it makes Mikoto happy.”
After the harsh beating Mikoto had received from the Secretary Division, Shandy was giving her a saccharine sweet.
The devoted kindness hidden within their casual exchanges seeped into her wounds, and her chilled heart began to warm ever so slightly.
Shandy smiled softly. Her amber eyes, usually so difficult to read, seemed to become obediently moist only at times like this.
“Is being nice to me when I’m vulnerable part of your calculations?”
“You caught me. Then how about the stick instead of the sweet?”
“The sweet, please. And…”
At the very least, Mikoto wanted to avoid making her worry.
There was only one thing Mikoto could do to prove that she was managing both her work and her money, and above all, that her heart could never turn towards anyone other than Shandy.
Hold Shandy close.
And kiss her.
“This is the payment for the cocktail.”
“…Being won over by a single kiss. I feel rather insulted, as though you’ve been taking me for cheap.”
Shandy puffed out her cheeks and grumbled.
But it was merely embarrassment, the sort she displayed whenever she was caught off guard.
“Is there anyone who could possibly take you lightly, Shandy-san?”
“Of course there is. Rude, overbearing customers, for instance. Though I never see them a second time.”
“With that personality, it’s amazing you can make a living in customer service…”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
With a mischievous remark, Shandy headed for the liquor shelf beside the kitchen.
The Kyōdō flat was like a showroom.
Everything was kept neat and orderly so that, apart from Mimosa, the other pet living there, a robotic vacuum cleaner, could move freely. The interior was unified and uncluttered, with few possessions, but it wasn’t as though Shandy had any particularly unusual tastes, nor was it as ruthlessly sparse as a minimalist’s home.
It was an entirely ordinary rented flat.
There was only one thing that set it apart.
The liquor shelf beside the kitchen.
The DIY liquor shelf looked like a smaller version of the one inside antiqua, lined with bottles of every conceivable sort from every corner of the world and every era, to such an extent that one earthquake would be enough to turn it into a disaster area.
If she wanted, Shandy could practically work as a bartender right there in the kitchen.
“My work… Could anyone do it?”
A familiar voice came from the television.
Mikoto glanced over and saw Kotone in a suit, sprawled face-down across a desk while performing a comically tearful scene
It was a rerun of a drama in which Kotone had starred.
The story followed an ordinary-minded university graduate who joined a prestigious company, knew nothing about common sense, and threw herself into both love and work relying on nothing but luck and intuition, eventually achieving tremendous success and somehow becoming Prime Minister.
It was an absurd story with not the slightest trace of realism, a production so ridiculous that one had to question whether the staff were in their right minds.
And precisely because of that, it had been a moderate hit, with audiences grateful for the chance to forget reality, however briefly.
“I’m amazed she agreed to do a drama like this…”
Mikoto laughed wryly, but she couldn’t stop watching.
Partly because it was her own sister’s acting.
But more than that, Kotone’s line had landed heavily on her own heart.
Could anyone do my job?
She thought about it.
Kotone had said those words, and yet now she was a hugely successful actress carrying the name of a nationwide network on her shoulders.
Surely there was no replacement for Kotone.
Kurosu Kotone was needed by society for the work she did as an actress.
Then what about her elder sister, Kurosu Mikoto?
Was society in need of her?
If so, for what kind of work?
What part of her life was it that she made her living from?
“Sorry to keep you waiting. I thought something sweet would be best, so I took a little time to think.”
“Don’t worry about it. I was watching Kotone’s drama.”
“She gives a wonderful performance, doesn’t she, Kotone-san? Perhaps I should join her fan club too.”
“I’m already a member, but there’s nothing much to it. You just get the newsletter and a weekly email written in such obviously fake-sweet language.”
“That’s what makes it entertaining. You can enjoy watching her while knowing she’s putting on an act.”
“You can be pretty mean sometimes…”
“If she had a good face and a good personality, she’d get stabbed out of jealousy.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
With an unsettling smile, Shandy began measuring liquor into the glass.
She produced a bottle of Crème de Cassis and a yellow liquid, presumably orange juice.
Even Mikoto could immediately tell what she was planning to make.
“Something pretty mainstream for you.”
“Yes. Tonight’s cocktail is a Cassis Orange. It’s not something we make at antiqua. None of our customers ever order it.”
“Because they’re worried the bartender will see them coming?”
“Probably. In fact, I’m always a little disappointed when someone orders something based on Lejay or Campari. I can’t help thinking, ‘You could have had anyone make this for you.’”
“Even so, you seem to care quite a lot about making it look good.”
“Which is another way of saying it’s a cocktail where I want to put my own stamp on it.”
With that, Shandy presented Mikoto with a Collins glass containing a two-layered cocktail, the reddish-purple cassis and yellow orange juice separated in a pousse-café style.
A rabbit-shaped orange slice was perched on the rim.
It was the first time Mikoto had seen that particular cut used for anything other than an apple.
Perhaps this crooked little touch was quintessentially Shandy.
Cassis Orange.
If you asked most people to name a cocktail, it would almost certainly be one of the first answers.
Even izakayas that didn’t specialise in cocktails generally served it with orange juice or oolong tea as the mixer.
That was largely thanks to the efforts of Lejay, the company that had continued producing Crème de Cassis.
Mikoto couldn’t help imagining the heartbreaking efforts of the distillers and salespeople who had worked to establish it as a staple.
“Are you the sort who mixes your Cassis Orange, Mikoto? Or do you prefer to enjoy it unmixed?”
She gave the straw, serving as a substitute for a muddler, one gentle turn.
The reddish-purple and yellow layers blended into a rather indescribable colour.
The cassis’s sweetness and the orange’s acidity combined beautifully, but when it came to the colour, opinions were bound to be sharply divided.
“I don’t like mixing it. Because once you mix it, look at the colour…”
“Exactly. Cassis Orange is so dependent on its appearance that some bars will even throw it away if the layers get mixed. As a bartender, you need that level of aesthetic awareness if you want to distinguish your Cassis Orange from the kind served at an izakaya.”
“So it’s not necessarily the same no matter who makes it.”
“That’s basically how work is.”
Shandy smiled at Mikoto as she always did.
“Question for you, Mikoto. How do you think you can tell whether a bartender is good or bad?”
Mikoto could only groan.
Before she could even consider how to judge one bartender against another, the only bartenders she had ever met were Shandy and Mr Iimori from the Maverick.
And since the two of them had a master-and-apprentice relationship, they weren’t exactly ideal subjects for comparison.
“I don’t know… Maybe that thing you told me about before, adding water to spirits?”
“That’s important too. Technique matters. A bartender’s ultimate mission is to provide the customer with ‘a moment accompanied by delicious alcohol’. That’s why we hone our cocktail skills and put thought into pleasant conversation and creating a comfortable atmosphere.”
“Then whether they pay attention to those little details is how you tell a good bartender from a bad one?”
“Not necessarily.”
Shandy speared a cube of orange onto a pick and lowered it into the glass.
An extra touch of orange.
“A bartender is, fundamentally, someone who looks after people in a bar. Attention to others is practically the job itself. But the difficult part is deciding what ‘consideration’ actually means.”
“Yes. I suppose it’s different for everyone.”
“Exactly. For a heartbroken Mikoto, I’d recommend the sweetness of a Cassis Orange. But Mr Iimori might give you something strong instead. Something to help you forget your troubles, even for a moment. That’s consideration too.”
“Then being considerate isn’t how you tell whether they’re good or bad?”
“That’s not it either.”
“Huh? Then what is it…?”
It was becoming mysterious.
How could one tell whether a bartender was good or bad?
Shandy said it wasn’t about cocktail technique, conversation skills, or creating an atmosphere.
But it wasn’t simply consideration either.
“The answer is whether you can come to like that bartender. Whether you want to order a drink from that particular person. That’s how you tell whether they’re good or bad.”
“You can’t just decide that based on whether you like someone.”
“Of course you can. It’s far more gratifying to have your personality and individuality praised than techniques you’re simply expected to be good at.”
“Aren’t I a good bartender, then?” Shandy asked proudly.
Mikoto had no answer.
If she judged a bartender’s skill by whether she liked them as a person, there was no doubt whatsoever.
To Mikoto, Shandy was the finest bartender in the world.
“The Cassis Orange I made tonight could be made even by Uchikoga-san, a student working part-time at an izakaya.”
“Who is this Uchikoga-san?”
“A virtual person. Incidentally, she’s a student studying film, but please don’t worry about it.”
It was an oddly specific character profile, but it probably meant nothing.
Shandy continued.
“Whether it’s made by a part-time girl or a professional bartender, a Cassis Orange is a Cassis Orange. But good and bad are decided by personal preference. Some people might think I’m good, while others might think Uchikoga-san is good.”
“Um… I don’t understand what you’re getting at…”
“Oh dear. Perhaps I was being a little too roundabout. In that case, I’ll put it plainly.”
Shandy closed her eyes and spoke.
“There is no such thing as a job anyone can do.”
She gave a slightly embarrassed smile.
“What do you mean…?”
“I thought that was what you’d been worrying about. Was I wrong?”
She had seen straight through her.
Mikoto’s heart skipped a beat.
Even if she tried to cover it up and deny it, Shandy had probably already read both her thoughts and her expression.
It was frustrating and embarrassing.
But there was no point pretending.
“You’re right. They said something similar at the Secretary Division.”
“I’m sorry for prying. But I wanted to tell you.”
“So you went through all that just to encourage me?”
“Is that what you think?”
“Don’t play innocent. It’s written all over your face.”
“If you think it’s written all over my face, please don’t say it.”
Shandy turned away with a little hmph, sulking like a girl.
Whenever her true feelings were seen through, she became embarrassed and averted her gaze.
Mikoto found her terribly cute.
“Just as with the Cassis Orange example, even if the result is the same no matter who makes it, what matters is who made it. Just as Mikoto wants one of my cocktails, Sanae-san, who values your work, wanted your project. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, but…”
“Then all you need to do is believe that and get on with your work. There’s no point working for someone who has already told you they dislike you.”
Sanae, who had invited Mikoto to Hibiya, had continued looking after Digital Memo all this time, and had even helped move the aroma project forward.
Even while saying she didn’t understand planning, Sanae had continued pushing the work ahead.
That was proof that Sanae valued her.
The Secretary Division, on the other hand, had shown no appreciation whatsoever for Mikoto’s planning ability.
Instead, they had done nothing but hurl abuse at her in an attempt to bring down someone connected to Sanae.
There was no need to think about which side she would rather work with.
“It’s easy for you to say that because you can choose your customers. Company employees can’t choose their customers or their colleagues. You have to work with people who say nasty things to you.”
“Then just crush troublesome people with your ability. Honestly, don’t you think it’s a waste of a life to spend your energy dragging other people down?”
“Wow. That’s harsh…”
“Of course I’m harsh. Someone made a fool of the person most precious to me, and I can’t do anything about it.”
With that, Shandy hugged her and buried her face against Mikoto’s chest.
In the silence, Kotone’s voice rang out from the television, “Work is sooo much fun!”
She was practically experiencing a career-woman’s high, rather than a climber’s high.
Mikoto could only marvel that a drama so determined to take the opposite position from reality had actually become a hit.
There were problems everywhere she looked.
To obtain the job offer, she had no choice but to slip through the Secretary Division’s net and get her project approved.
But the more she read through Sanae’s materials, the more it became apparent that the Secretary Division had already extended its reach into the Planning Department.
The hurdle kept getting higher.
Unless she produced the kind of perfect project that left every participant in the competition utterly speechless, she wouldn’t merely fail to fulfil her promise to Sanae.
She wouldn’t even get the job offer.
“I don’t want to lose…”
If she compared it to basketball, the game was currently in the third quarter.
She was losing by more than three times the score, an overwhelming deficit.
But that didn’t mean she could abandon the game.
If someone had picked a fight with her, she wanted to take it up and show the Secretary Division what she was made of.
“You can win, Mikoto.”
“It’s all right. I’ve got the best cheerleader in the world.”
“I have a cheerleading costume, you know. Shall I put it on?”
“No, that’s not what I meant…”
“Then imagine it. Me in a cheerleading costume.”
“Ugh…”
There was no need to imagine it.
Naturally blonde hair, a slender yet perfectly proportioned figure.
Even in a country where cheerleading was hugely popular, Shandy would almost certainly emerge as a queen bee at the very top of the social hierarchy.
“Hehe. Mikoto, you naughty thing.”
“Can you either encourage me or tease me? Pick one!”
“Both. I’m greedy.”
Compared with the women of the Secretary Division, Shandy was by far the more troublesome one.
Watching her bring out a cheerleading costume and offer her alcohol, Mikoto could only laugh wryly.