Chapter 34: Volume 1, - 34: Six Hours Means Six Hours
Saturday, 11 March 2023
The laser printer inside Suite 302 hummed continuously, spitting out fresh intake summary sheets with a warm, metallic smell. Outside, the Saturday afternoon foot traffic along the shopping street buzzed faintly through the closed window, but inside the third-floor office, the air felt tight and crowded. On the central desk, three client binders sat open alongside handwritten order amendments, pickup verification sheets, and two desk phones.
Ren sat at his computer, his fingers moving across the mechanical keyboard as he cross-referenced merchant requests against Friday’s carry-over list. Friday’s unfinished workload was still clipped to Nanami’s tray: four route confirmations waiting on Wada-san, two receipt classifications requiring Ren’s approval, and five client-response entries. Saturday morning had added only a few ordinary complications. A duplicated Okada note, one delayed Wada answer, and a single bakery inquiry that could safely wait until Wednesday.
At three o’clock, Ren called their twenty-minute paid rest break. They walked down the quiet concrete stairwell and out into the brisk March air of the shopping street. The Saturday foot traffic was in full swing, with families moving between the greengrocer and the station arcade.
They stopped at the small takeaway counter near the corner. Ren picked two pork-and-ginger onigiri for 280 yen total. Nanami selected a vegetable roll and a small hot barley tea, paying for her own items.
"The shopping street seems busier today than last weekend," Ren remarked as they stood near the edge of the arcade, out of the flow of pedestrians.
"The weekend before White Day always increases afternoon foot traffic for the local food merchants," Nanami replied, taking a small sip of her tea. "The confectionery shops will likely double their delivery volume by Tuesday."
They returned upstairs to Suite 302 and ate in comfortable silence at their respective desks before returning to the files.
Across the desk, Nanami sat straight in her chair, her blue ballpoint pen moving methodically across an intake sheet. Her eyes flicked calmly to the round wall clock above the filing cabinet.
It was 17:48. Her authorised shift. The final five hours of her scheduled fifteen-hour week ended precisely at 18:00.
Ren looked at the remaining items sitting on the side tray. There were two route confirmations waiting on Wada-san, one receipt classification needing approval, and three client-response entries that still needed answering.
’It’s only another half hour,’ Ren thought, his mind working quickly through the maths. ’Thirty minutes would clear most of this.’
A prickle of genuine irritation rose in his throat. The clock was moving too fast, and the remaining pile looked so small, so easily solvable if she just gave him a little flexibility.
He opened his mouth. "Shindo-san, if we could just—"
The words caught in his throat.
Ren froze. The sentence hung unsaid in his mind, turning cold and heavy. He suddenly recognised the quiet, internal logic behind those words. It was the same logic Endo wrapped in phrases about team flexibility whenever QuickMart ran short. The manager plans badly, misses the schedule, or pushes for a target, and expects the worker to absorb the extra strain because the goal is deemed important.
Ren swallowed, feeling a sharp, uncomfortable heat behind his neck. The similarity made him angry and embarrassed. Under the pressure of his own deadline, his immediate impulse had been to ask his employee to give up her personal time to cover his administrative lag.
Nanami set her pen down with a quiet click. She did not ask what he had been about to say. As the clock touched 17:55, she pulled a clean sheet of grid paper from her drawer and began writing in her neat script.
"I am preparing the shift handover, Kisaragi-san," Nanami said smoothly.
Ren leaned back, taking a slow, steadying breath to clear the sudden spike of frustration. "Thank you, Shindo-san."
Nanami filled out the grid under five distinct headings: Completed Work, Unresolved Requests, Safe Deferrals, Founder Decisions, and Risks of Delay.
She slid the page across the desk to Ren at 17:59.
"Two Wada route confirmations are still waiting on Wada-san," Nanami explained, pointing to the second column. "The receipt classification requires your approval. Three client-response entries are safe to defer to my Wednesday shift, but one client reply should be handled by you on Monday."
Ren read through the handover log. Everything was clearly categorised and accurate. He picked up his stamp and pressed his seal onto the lower corner of the slip.
"Understood," Ren said. "Thank you for your work today."
At precisely 18:00, Nanami stood up, smoothed her skirt, packed her thermos into her tote bag, and logged her departure on the paper sign-out sheet. She offered a brief bow and walked out, the office door clicking shut behind her.
Ren was left alone in the quiet office. His stubborn instinct screamed at him to sit down, skip dinner, work through the night, and heroically clear every single line item on the desk. But he was scheduled for a night shift at QuickMart starting at 11:00 p.m., and his body was already protesting the long week.
He completed the receipt classification and marked the Monday reply in his own calendar. Everything else remained stacked neatly in the Wednesday carry-over tray.
The decision had an immediate, real consequence. A few minutes later, an email arrived from a local shopkeeper asking for immediate confirmation on an intake adjustment. Ren typed a brief, polite reply stating that secondary adjustments would be processed during Monday’s morning intake window. The shopkeeper would have to wait until Monday before finalising the delivery arrangement. Ren disliked making a client wait, but the email stayed sent anyway.
At 18:30, Ren locked Suite 302 and stepped down the concrete stairwell into the cool evening air. He picked up a cheap pork cutlet bento from a small takeaway stall near the station, eating it on a bench while watching the Saturday shoppers pass by.
Over the past several weeks, his body had changed only modestly. His endurance was improving, and his knees felt steadier when he lowered his weight. Yet, as he finished his meal and thought about his upcoming QuickMart shift, exhaustion dragged at his eyelids. The irony was sharp and bitter: in a few hours, he would be standing behind a convenience store counter under glowing fluorescent lights, absorbing Endo’s roster pressures, right after struggling not to inflict the exact same pressure on his own employee.
By 7:30 p.m., Ren returned to his cold apartment to rest before his store shift. He sat at his small low table, staring at his notebook.
Ren looked at the unfinished list again. ’I’ll just work longer.’ It had sounded like an answer when only his own hours were involved. It didn’t anymore.
He turned the page of his notebook, shifting his attention away from the backlog and toward Sunday morning. Tomorrow was his first open window to finish the Crown’s parking and insurance requirements and meet Daichi about what still needed checking at handover.
Ren closed the notebook, set his alarm for 10:00 p.m., and lay down on his futon.