Chapter 9: Volume 1, - 9: A Better Phone
On the cold, overcast morning of Tuesday, 14 February 2023, Ren stood outside Nishi-Kawaguchi Station with his cracked phone pressed to his ear, listening to the sharp, measured voice of an Orient Credit collections agent over the staticky speaker.
"Kisaragi-san, to keep the current arrangement active, we need confirmation that you still intend to resume the agreed minimum after your next scheduled wage deposit—"
A harsh electric buzz cut through the speaker. The display flickered violently, lines of dead green pixels tearing across the glass, before the device went completely black.
Ren pulled the recently delivered Anker power bank from his bag and connected the charging cable. The screen flashed once, then died again as the plug shifted loosely inside the damaged charging port. The battery was empty, and the damaged charging port meant the old handset could no longer be trusted for urgent work, banking, or creditor calls.
A translucent amber warning immediately materialised across his visual field:
[Communication Failure Detected.]
[Primary Handset Failure: Critical risk to creditor communication, banking authentication, and employment availability.]
[Directive: Acquire a secure, reliable mobile terminal.]
[Estate Technology Allowance: Applicable for handset hardware and one approved protective case.]
Ren stared at the dead phone in his hand, feeling a knot of cold dread in his chest. Losing contact with Orient Credit meant risking automated penalty escalations, while missing an urgent call from QuickMart management could cost him his shift allocation. Repairing the five-year-old budget handset was no longer viable.
Thirty minutes later, Ren began his trip to Ikebukuro. He took the Keihin–Tōhoku Line from Nishi-Kawaguchi to Akabane, transferred to the Saikyō Line, and continued straight to Ikebukuro. He walked out of the station and into the crowded main branch of Bic Camera. The store was packed with Valentine’s Day shoppers, bright promotional displays advertising seasonal electronics, and bustling crowds moving between floor displays.
Ren navigated to the mobile-phone floor, standing before the main demonstration counter to inspect three potential replacements.
A young Bic Camera employee in a red store vest stepped forward. "Looking for a mid-range upgrade, sir? Are you interested in iOS or Android?"
"Android, preferably," Ren said, examining the display units carefully.
He systematically compared three models on the counter: the iPhone SE (3rd Generation), the Sony Xperia 10 IV, and the Google Pixel 6a.
"The Xperia lasts longest, the iPhone is the smallest, and the Pixel gives you the strongest all-round balance for the price," the employee offered helpfully. "Google also handles the security updates directly."
The Xperia promised long battery life, but its tall, narrow shape felt less comfortable in Ren’s hand. The iPhone SE was compact, though its 4.7-inch screen felt cramped for documents and banking. The Pixel 6a offered the strongest balance of battery, camera performance, clean software, and outright cost among the three options Ren had considered. Equipped with a 4,410 mAh battery and simple navigation, it suited his needs without unnecessary fluff.
"I’ll take the Pixel 6a," Ren decided.
At the service counter, Ren presented his identification and processed the transaction. The estate allowance authorised the handset and approved case at checkout, leaving a standard retail receipt alongside an estate-linked payment record for the dark Spigen protective case. However, Ren signed the standard carrier SIM contract under his own name, taking full personal responsibility for the monthly data plan and service fees. To complete the setup, he separately purchased a tempered-glass screen protector out of his own pocket funds.
After leaving Bic Camera, Ren walked down the busy Ikebukuro street to a nearby Café Veloce, carrying the boxed phone in a paper bag. The café was filled with couples and office workers taking afternoon coffee breaks amidst the Valentine’s rush.
Ren ordered an iced coffee, sat at a small corner table, and carefully unboxed the Pixel 6a. He applied the glass screen protector without trapping dust beneath it and snapped the dark, reinforced Spigen case around the device.
He restored his cloud backup and worked through the security setup one step at a time, setting up multi-factor authentication for his bank accounts and creating a clean email address built from his real name, replacing the random alias he had used since high school.
Once his number and banking security were active, Ren called Orient Credit back. He verified his identity, explained that his handset had failed mid-call, and confirmed only the existing minimum payment after his next scheduled wage deposit. The representative kept the account in standard arrears rather than immediate secondary recovery, though late charges would continue to accumulate.
As the phone finalised its background setup, a protected System layer opened silently beneath the ordinary phone interface.
During the initial data transfer, a locked System contact flashed across the screen for a fraction of a second before locking into an encrypted vault:
Ren Kisaragi — Primary [Timestamp: 2049-11-04-02:14:09]
Ren frowned, staring at the strange year on the display, but the entry vanished before he could interact with it. Immediately following the transfer, the System overlay updated in his vision:
[Technology Upgrade verified.]
[Google Pixel 6a assigned as primary secure device.]
[Estate technology allowance applied.]
[Carrier obligations remain personal.]
[Secure System interface transferred.]
Eligible small rewards and official records could now use the secure phone-linked channel without risk of hardware failure or data corruption.
Ren opened LINE on his clean display. After logging into his account, he noticed that the previous evening’s store-hours broadcast was still waiting in his notifications. Remembering the misplaced receipt from his last visit to Akiyama Bakery, Ren tapped open the official Akiyama Bakery account and typed a short reply to convert the broadcast into a private customer-service thread.
Ren: "This is Ren Kisaragi. I think the receipt is mine. I can collect it the next time I come by."
A minute later, a push notification popped up on his screen as the account replied.
Akiyama Bakery — Suzune: "Suzune here. I put it aside for you."
Immediately after her message, another notification arrived containing a photograph of a misshapen, dark-chocolate baked item sitting on a stainless steel baking tray. It had clearly been intended as a heart-shaped Valentine cookie, but the dough had expanded in the oven, warping into a lumpy, asymmetrical oval.
Akiyama Bakery — Suzune: "Heart or damaged potato? Dad says it looks like a rock."
Ren stared at the photo, his lips curving upward into a genuine, quiet smile. He tapped the new keyboard, taking advantage of the fluid typing performance of his new device.
Ren: "A potato that believed in itself."
Two seconds passed. Then three dots appeared on the screen, followed instantly by a string of laughing emoji.
Akiyama Bakery — Suzune: "That is horribly mean, Kisaragi-san. But accurate. I am renaming them ’Self-Belief Potatoes’ and selling them at a discount."
Ren: "If they taste like Akiyama butter and cocoa, people will buy them anyway."
Akiyama Bakery — Suzune: "You sound very confident. You’ll have to inspect the next batch yourself once this madness settles down."
Ren held the phone in both hands, feeling a quiet warmth spread through his chest.
At 10:30 PM that evening, Ren walked into QuickMart for his night shift. The store was quieter than usual after the daytime Valentine frenzy, though the seasonal chocolate display near the entrance was largely depleted.
In the back breakroom, Endo was leaning against the stock desk, scrolling through his own phone while Yui Morita was putting away her coat.
Endo looked up as Ren walked in, his eyes falling on the dark-cased Pixel 6a in Ren’s hand.
"That screen was already cracked last week," Endo said, his tone carrying a mix of surprise and mild suspicion. "It finally died?"
"It stopped charging this morning," Ren replied calmly, placing the phone into his personal locker. "I needed a reliable handset for work and banking."
"Must be nice," Endo muttered under his breath, turning back to his screen.
Ren ignored the comment, pulling his blue QuickMart vest over his Oxford shirt. He walked out onto the sales floor, taking his place behind Register One.
As the clock struck midnight, marking the end of Valentine’s Day, two faint prompts materialised before Ren’s eyes:
[Valentine Social Opportunity detected. Participation is optional.]
[Preparation time: four days.]