Tachibana Ichika
The wide tray filled with vivid colors of food was in my hands as I turned left, walking in the middle of the rows of tales where people were sitting and having their food in the middle of the distinct voices of their chatting which filled the restaurant. I stopped soon, turned right, and kept the tray in the middle of the table filled with four young adult guys talking formally with little smiles on their faces. I was wearing a black dress with a white apron—the usual dress of a waitress.
“So we can’t really make sure that we’ll get the first prize, but we’ll make sure your kid gets the exposure he needs in the rankings this year,” A formal voice said and I turned to the right, looking at the man in formal clothes in front of a worried middle-aged couple. I glared at them as I stood there silently.
The mother worriedly looked at the formal man as she said, “He’s turning seventeen, and last year too, he was among the worst performers in the rankings.”
“Our kid still not looks like he can fight others in the competition. In fact, he has no experience in the competition before. We’re worried that he might not be able to become a soldier this year too,” The dad explained.
“I know that you’re worried about your kid, sir, but this is not a time to think ill of the poor child,” The man explained the couple. “Just cheer for him. This time, he will at least enter the competition. Since he’s one year elder now with one more year of training, he won’t perform as bad as he once did.”
“And what if he doesn’t enter the competition this year?” The dad asked. “I’m worried I might have to settle him somewhere else.”
“If not this year, then next year, he certainly will,” The man replied with a smile.
“Oh yeah,” I thought as I turned to the right and started walking back from where I came from. “The rankings are starting soon.” The sunlight was coming in from the right of the outside dining area where I just stepped and turned right, with sunrays touching my face from my left. The outside dining area had the shelf on my right side, and a row of tables in front of the glass on my left. I turned to the right and stood at the front, taking up another grey tray, turning right from where I just entered, and then walking again. I then turned to the left, entering the inside dining area with rows of tables on both the sides. As I walked towards that are again, I turned my head to the right, looking at the mother weeping on her palms as she said, “We’re not even able to afford food for ourselves. Most of the money goes into his training.”
The father was rubbing her back, his head down in guilt. “This will be his last year, sir.” He turned his head front at the guy in formals, and with tears on the edges of his eyes, he said with determination, “Our kid, Renji, won’t fight next year.”
“O-Okay, Nakajima-senpai. It’s your wish. And I completely understand your position.”
I stood in the front of that table, moved the tray down in front of them, took up the saucers and cups of coffee, kept them on the center of the table one by one, and then took up the tray again, turned to the right, and walked away.
“Nakajima Renji, huh?” I thought as I walked away, turned right, and walked a little and then turned to the right in front of the shelf. “Hey, Yumiko,” I said. “How many from The Bar are gonna participate in the rankings this year, by the way?”
Yumiko, who was standing on the other side of the shelf, her face directly being hit by the sunlight coming from the front, turned her head to the front. “From The Bar, I think only Itsuki is gonna take part this year.”
“What about Oga, Irimi, and Koma? Are they not gonna take part in it?”
Yumiko shook her head. “Who will help in running the restaurant, then?”
“Okay,” I nodded, took up another tray of cups, turned to the right, and started to walk.
I then turned to the left, entering inside the inner dining area with some occasional windows fixed on the right from where the light came in.
***
Some minutes later, as I was taking up another tray from the shelf, Yumiko said, “Oh, Ichika!” I turned to her and stopped walking. “Some customers have complained that the rates on the chalk board outside are wiped out. Go write them again.”
“Yeah sure.”
I pulled open the entrance of the restaurant and walked out, stepping onto the crowded bricked road with patter of hooves of horses and people’s boots all around. Some people were talking and chatting as their indistinct voices filled the crowded aura. I turned to the right at the little chalkboard on a stand with some rates written on it on the right. I looked at the blurred chalk on the right, in front of the Japanese text written on the left. “Looks like some kids have erased them again.” I bent my back frontward, and with the chalk in my hand, started to write the rates again.
“Hey, see, this is The Bar!” I heard a man saying. “I heard it’s got cheap food!”
“Really?!” Another guy whispered.
“Yeah. It sends the best people at the rankings.”
“I guess last year too, someone from this restaurant won the rankings, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I’d be looking forward to The Bar this year again.”
“It’s got the best hunters. That’s why its meat prices remain cheap.”
As I stood in between all those comments which revolved around my head and my dark reality, I thought, “It’s this time of the year again. Everyone celebrating for the cheap prices, while our people struggling every single day.”
