Joey takes the job and hands in his notice. What the section chief regrets losing isn't his work. Then the Duels become regular: eight turns, nine, nine, ten, eleven. Afterwards Joey lays the cards out on the floor and works out where it went wrong, and one evening Kaiba says he can't see from up there and sits down opposite. Tea appears. Then meals. Joey never asks why, and by February he has missed asking again.
This is a translation of an original work on Pixiv.
Original Title: 10 反省会
Original Author: 葉人(@Hathor_yuki)
Personal site: https://prideshipping.sakura.ne.jp
I decided on the train from the site to the office. Got off on the platform and made the call behind a pillar.
"This is Wheeler. Thank you for the interview the other day."
Yes, hello.
"I'd like to come and work for you."
There was a short silence.
That's the sixth day.
"Yes."
I did say take a week over it.
"I thought about it. All day yesterday."
That isn't a lie. All day yesterday I stood in front of the KaibaCorp building and thought.
I see.
the senior managing director said.
Understood, I'll send the paperwork. Would a start date of 1 March suit?
"March?"
Yes. At your current company there'll be a handover, and in sales you'll have a fair amount of leave to use up. Only, January and February are no good at our end, we can't move for the year-end accounts.
"Understood."
Mr. Wheeler.
"Yes."
We really aren't big, you know.
"Yes, I've been told."
Right, then. Take February off, and I'll see you in March.
The call ended.
I was standing on the platform.
The train came. I got on, took hold of a strap, and said it quietly in my mouth.
Decided.
I told the section chief on the Friday of that week.
Inside the partition, standing to report as usual.
"Section chief. I'd like to resign."
The section chief's hand stopped.
Stopped, and he put the pen down.
"…When."
"End of February."
"Three and a half months."
"Yes."
"You're going to job-hunt from here?"
"No. The next one's decided."
"Where."
"Yamato Setsubi Kogyo, up north."
The section chief was silent.
A company we know. Same industry, a bit smaller. We've clashed with them on jobs before now.
"That lot."
"Yes."
"Does the pay go up."
"It goes down."
"It goes down and you're going."
"Yes."
The section chief leaned back in his chair.
He looked at the ceiling for a while.
"Block C."
"The construction's mostly done by then, and I'll hand over the other jobs. I'll put all the material together."
"That isn't what I mean."
"…"
"If you go, the line to KC gets cut."
That was what the section chief cared about.
I'd known it, but hearing it said, my breath caught a bit.
Three and a half years of work, and what gets missed at the end isn't my work, it's my classmate.
"There's no line. There never was."
"There is. You go and it's forty minutes."
"That isn't my doing."
"Then whose is it."
I couldn't answer.
There's probably a reason for it, but I still don't know it.
"Wheeler."
"Yes."
"Any chance you'll reconsider."
"No."
The section chief sighed.
A long one.
"…All right. Put it in to personnel."
"Yes."
"Resigning doesn't mean you stop taking new jobs. Get the extra handover done by the start of February as well. The rest is leave."
"I'm allowed to use the leave?"
"Use it. You've got thirty-one, haven't you."
"Thirty-one's not going to happen."
"It isn't."
The section chief laughed.
A way of laughing I hadn't seen before.
"Ten or so, I'd say. The rest you'll just have to throw away. Sorry about that."
"It's fine."
"It isn't fine. But at a place like ours there's nothing to be done about it."
I was quiet a moment.
"Section chief."
"What."
"Three years and eight months. Thank you."
"You've got another three and a half to go."
"Yes."
"Save that kind of thing for last."
I came out of the partition and went back to my seat.
Opened the computer and worked up a quotation.
Something felt odd, somehow.
I didn't dislike it, I thought.
The section chief, the office, I didn't dislike them.
Not disliking it, and leaving.
That's a thing that happens, I thought.
The second Duel was 28 November.
Contact came from Isono. To my private number.
Saturday 28 November, 19:00, head office basement test play room. Would this suit?
I'll be there
That was the whole exchange.
I lost. Eight turns.
Solid Vision vanished and I sat down where I was.
Laid the cards I'd used out on the floor.
Reconstructing the board on the sixth turn. His field like this, my field like this, my hand like this.
I feel like holding that back there was the mistake. What would have happened if I'd used it.
While I was laying them out, a shadow fell.
I looked up and he was standing there with his coat on.
"What are you doing."
"Post-mortem."
"…"
"Sixth turn feels like it was off."
He looked at the floor.
One second, or two.
"That arrangement is wrong. There are two set cards on my field."
"Huh?"
"I set one on the fifth turn."
That was all he said, and he walked off.
The door closed.
I stayed sitting on the floor and added one card.
Added it, and looked.
"…Ah."
Thinking back, I do feel like there were two. In that case this hand might have been stopped anyway, even if I'd used it.
I looked at it for about an hour.
The third was 12 December.
I lost. Nine turns.
This time I was ready to sit down before Solid Vision vanished.
Sat the moment it went and laid the cards out again.
Laying them out, I traced back through my memory. This time I'd been counting properly. How many cards on his field, which turn they were placed. Not all of it, and I'm about half confident.
He took his coat and came over.
"Seventh turn, I reckon."
"Say it."
"There, instead of attacking, I waited to meet him coming in. That was the bad one."
"Why did you wait?"
"Well, I thought it'd get turned round on me."
"There was no card to turn it round."
"How would I know that."
"It is a question of probability."
He said it standing.
"At that point I had used four. Given the composition of the deck, the probability of a card that could turn it round arriving from there is low."
"Composition of the deck — like I'd know your deck."
"You fight without knowing it?"
"…"
"We have fought four times. There is four times' worth of information."
At that he started walking towards the door.
"Memorise it and count. That is all."
He went.
About three minutes. Longer than last time.
The fourth was 26 December.
Year-end, the week with four office parties in it.
Lost again. Nine turns again.
I sat and laid the cards out on the floor.
Laying them out, I remembered a bit more today. Number of cards on his field, and the turn they went down. Three spots I've got.
He came over.
"Today."
"Fifth turn and eighth turn. There's two."
"Say both."
"Fifth turn, I went in to clear your card. I think that was right. But I didn't attack after it. I just tidied the field and ended."
"Why did you not attack."
"Because I didn't have enough cards."
"You had enough."
"I didn't. Not enough attack."
"It is not attack. Your hand had—"
He started, and stopped.
He was looking at the floor.
I'm sitting on the floor and he's standing. Looking down at it.
He looked at the cards a while, and stayed like that.
"Wheeler."
"What?"
"Don't do it there."
"Huh?"
He indicated with his chin.
Against the wall there was a table set. A four-seater. Put there for equipment validation, I think. I'd never used it.
"Do it there."
"Why."
"I cannot see."
I gathered the cards and laid them out again on the table.
When I looked up, he was sitting opposite.
Sitting with the coat still on.
"Continue."
"…Yeah."
I carried on with the fifth turn.
We did about fifteen minutes.
Partway through, I noticed.
This guy was about to leave, wasn't he. He's got the coat on, so why is he sitting down.
I didn't say anything.
If I said it, I had a feeling he'd stand up.
9 January was the fifth.
Lost. Ten turns.
This time I went to the table from the start. Took off the Duel Disk, took the cards, and sat over there.
He came and sat opposite.
The coat stayed off.
He hung it on the back of the chair, and then sat.
"Today?"
"Three."
"Ho."
"It's a lot. Third turn, sixth turn, ninth turn."
"In order."
We did thirty minutes.
Partway through, the door opened and a black suit came in.
Carrying a tray with two teacups on it. Put them on the table and left.
I looked at the teacups.
"Why's tea turning up?"
"I have no idea."
I drank. Hot.
Drinking the hot tea, I talked about the ninth turn.
He remembered all of it. The cards I drew, the order I set them, what I did on which turn.
I still only remembered about half.
The parts I don't remember, he says. I remember them. Remembering, I ask, so what about that bit. He answers.
Before long, I was the one asking questions.
"So the one I put out on the third turn — was it better not to put that out?"
"No. Put it out. But think about the order you put things out in."
"Order?"
"Clear the field first. It is simply a matter of removing the set card and then putting it out."
"I didn't have a card for that."
"It should have been in your hand."
"…It was. It really was. I used it on the fifth turn. I didn't see it."
"It was not that you could not see it. You were not looking. The fifth turn is too late."
"Same thing!"
"It is not."
He drank his tea.
"Not being able to see is a question of ability. Not looking is a question of attitude. There is still hope for that one."
"What was that."
He says what he likes.
But it was the truth, so I looked at the cards on the table without saying anything.
We did about forty minutes, and finished.
On his way out, he said it.
"The next is the twenty-third."
"Isono'll be in touch, won't he?"
"He will."
"Then I'll see you then."
"I see."
He went.
I stood in the corridor a little while.
25 January was a Monday.
In the morning there was a notification on my phone. The card game app. It says happy birthday.
I turned twenty-two.
There was a message from Serenity.
Big brother, happy birthday! And is it true you're changing jobs?
I told Serenity last month when we spoke on the phone. She was surprised, but she said, that's good.
Why it was good, I didn't understand at the time.
There were ones in the group too. Yugi and Tristan and Téa.
Happy birthday, Joey
Let's go for a drink sometime
Looking forward to it
I marked them read, and then typed a reply.
Start of February I should be free. I'll let you know when it's fixed
I sent that, and looked at the screen a little while.
This day last year, I wrote I'll come once things settle down in the same group.
In the end I only wrote it and didn't go.
Today I wrote a time. Write a time and you end up going.
That day there was no entertainment. Left the office at 19:00, went home, ate, handled the cards.
I spent an hour rebuilding the deck.
There was something like homework from the post-mortem on the twenty-third. Not an obligation. He isn't a man who sets homework. Only, what he'd pointed out had stayed in my head, and I wanted to try it next time.
I did an hour, and slept.
I did nothing birthday-like. That's the same as last year.
The same, and different from last year.
Where the difference was, I couldn't put into words at the time.
Come to think of it, lately I'd started eating with him after the Duels as well.
Since when, I don't know.
Where it shifted isn't clear either.
Some number of times in, a fair amount of time had gone by, and a black suit came in and said something to him. He stood up and took his coat.
I was gathering the cards.
Partway through gathering them, he said it.
"We have not finished the ninth turn."
"Ah, I'll think about that next—"
"Come."
"Huh? Yeah."
I put the cards in the case, shouldered the backpack, and walked the corridor after him.
Got in the elevator, went up, and straight out through the back entrance.
A big black car was waiting.
"Get in."
He got in first and I followed him in.
Once in, in a corner of my head I thought for a moment, I am for some reason in a car.
More to the point, the ninth turn wasn't finished.
"The one I set on the ninth turn — if that had gone through."
"It would not have."
"Why not."
"I had a card in hand to seal it."
"You're joking."
"I am not."
The car moved.
We drove for about five minutes, I suppose. The whole time, we were talking about the ninth turn.
The car stopped and the door opened. I got out as prompted.
We were in front of a building.
No noren curtain and no sign, and only because the lights were on could you just about tell there was someone inside.
Looking closely there was something written small on the wall, but there was no time to read it.
Inside there was a corridor, and I was shown into a private room.
A tatami room, the table low. A sunken well beneath it, and it was warm in there.
I sat down, wiped my hands on the hot towel, and then checked what I was wearing.
Hoodie and denim, luggage a backpack. Exactly as I'd come from Duelling.
Probably not what you wear to a place like this.
How much does this cost. For a moment, I thought it.
The moment I thought it, he said something.
"About that what if line of yours just now."
I looked up.
"I had a card in hand to seal it. Don't imagine you could have won."
"That's what I asked you. What did you have?"
"Do you think I would say."
"Say it."
"I will not."
"Then why did you bring it up."
"Because you were getting carried away."
I started to answer back, and stopped.
The food was being brought in.
Three small dishes, and then a load of things I couldn't identify that were insanely good, and the table filled up.
I picked up the chopsticks and ate.
It was good.
But more than that, I was talking about the ninth turn.
"Right, so if I was going to seal that, what should I have been holding?"
"Think."
"I am thinking. Give me a hint."
"There are no hints in a Duel."
"Damn it."
The emptied plates were taken away and rice and soup came out.
I picked up the bowl. The stock goes right in. Drank, put it down, and then drew a line on the table with my finger.
"Your field's like this, right."
"Do not dirty the table."
"I'm not dirtying it, it's my finger."
I drew the board with my finger.
He watched without speaking.
Watched, and then tapped his own field lightly with a fingertip.
"There is one more here."
"You never said."
"I did not say it, but you can see it if you look."
"Say it!"
And we carried on like that a while longer.
6 February was the sixth.
The handover finished at the start of February. My last working day landed on Friday 12 February. From there I go into leave.
I lost. Eleven turns.
But eleven turns.
Compared with seven, it's definitely gone up.
Again we were doing the post-mortem over food.
"Kaiba."
"What."
"I'm changing jobs next month."
I hadn't meant to say it.
I came to talk about the Duel. Today is that kind of day, not a day for talking about work.
But it came out of my mouth.
He brought his eyes back from the ceiling.
"I see."
"I'm leaving the current place this month. Going to an installation firm up north. Small place, and the pay goes down."
"It goes down."
"It goes down. But overtime gets paid."
"It was not being paid?"
"It was fixed, so no."
I could tell his brows drew together. I think it was the first time I'd properly seen his expression move.
"And?"
"And, well."
I put the teacup down.
"I aim for pro while I work. Quitting and going all in, that sort of thing, isn't possible. No money, no backing. So I keep the job. Work, eat, pay the rent, and do it in the time that's left."
"Does time get left?"
"I leave it."
I said it.
"If I don't leave it, it goes. Three years — no, about four. Four years is how I know that."
"Four years."
"Yeah."
He said nothing.
I carried on.
"Yugi, right, he makes games while running the shop. Said he'd kept at it because it was the dream. Said life turns on the shop, so he can do what he likes for two hours at night."
"He would."
"Me too. Same thing."
"I see."
"Think it's impossible?"
I thought I shouldn't have asked that.
This one doesn't lie. If he thought it was impossible he'd say it was impossible.
"Pro Duelist."
He said that and then was quiet a while.
"That is the second time I have heard it."
"I know. That's why I've been coming at you—"
"Wheeler."
He used my name.
Third time.
"What."
"Then I will develop you."
I nearly dropped the teacup.
"You what?!"
"Did you not hear."
"I heard, but what's that supposed to mean!"
"I will not say it twice."
"No, hang on — develop, what does that mean."
"It means what it says."
He stood up.
"Isono will arrange the dates."
"Oi."
"Once a week. At the current pace you will not build initial velocity."
"Once a week?!"
"Do you object."
"I don't object, but — have you got the time?"
"Do I look as though I have."
He turned round. That he works from early morning to late at night, I know by now.
"Then why—"
I started, and stopped.
I stopped because he was looking straight at me.
When our eyes met, he opened the sliding door.
"We're going."
"…Yeah."
I stood up too, shouldered the backpack, and went out into the corridor.
Once out, I thought it.
I missed asking why.
Missed asking, again.
