Chapter 5: Volume 1, - 5: Provisional Successor
On Friday, 10 February 2023, the Foundation Task had less than twelve hours remaining. During the morning rush, Yui had quietly warned Ren, "Endo-san says you’re staying until eleven, but the roster still ends at three." Ren had never agreed to the change.
Ren stood in the back breakroom of QuickMart, his hands damp from scrubbing the ice-cream freezer display. The air smelled of stale coffee and industrial floor cleaner. His smartphone, propped against a stack of folded plastic crates, vibrated against the plastic surface.
The caller ID displayed a toll-free number registered to Orient Credit’s collector services.
Ren picked up the phone, pressing it to his ear while keeping one eye on the breakroom door.
"Kisaragi-san?" a call-centre representative asked, her voice clipped, professional, and slightly metallic through the speaker. "We are calling regarding the ¥31,400 automatic withdrawal that failed to process on Wednesday, February 8th. Because the balance is now overdue, our system recommends an accelerated settlement payment of ¥75,000 to avoid late fee escalations."
Ren took a quiet breath, feeling his heart hammer against his ribs. The urge to panic, to nod along, or to promise whatever figure would make the representative say goodbye surged up instinctively. A promise he could not keep would only make the next call worse.
"I cannot make an accelerated payment," Ren said, his voice quiet, steady, and unhurried. "I do not have ¥75,000."
A brief pause on the line. "Kisaragi-san, if you do not settle the arrears, your account will be flagged for secondary recovery—"
"I understand," Ren interrupted gently, holding his ground. "I am not refusing the debt. I can maintain the original agreed minimum monthly payment once my next regular transfer clears. But I will not promise money I do not have today."
Silence stretched over the line. The representative’s key-clicks rattled like dry beans. "I’ll record that you cannot make the accelerated payment and intend to resume the agreed minimum after your next scheduled wage deposit. The account will remain in standard arrears until that date rather than move immediately to secondary recovery. Standard late charges will still apply."
"Understood. Thank you for your time."
Ren ended the call. He had slept just over six hours before the morning shift, completing the third required sleep period, but the psychological weight of the call left his hands cold. He had not cleared his debt. The approximately ¥1.8 million total still sat like a boulder on his neck.
The breakroom door swung open with a sharp clatter. Manager Endo stepped inside, holding an electronic clipboard. His eyes were bloodshot and his expression wore the sour stress of a middle manager drowning in shift shortages.
"Kisaragi," Endo said, not looking up from his screen. "You already caused enough trouble with Tuesday’s incident report. You’re staying until 23:00 to cover the floor and complete the full inventory audit for the beverage aisle."
Ren checked the digital clock on the wall: 14:52. His scheduled morning shift ended at 15:00. Staying until 23:00 would erase the time left for his third walk and final qualifying meal day before the midnight deadline.
"My shift ends at 15:00, Manager," Ren said neutrally. "I have mandatory personal commitments this evening."
Endo’s head snapped up. "Personal commitments? You stay, or I mark this as refusing emergency coverage."
"If the overtime is mandatory, send the shift change to my employee email."
Endo froze. Store policy required overtime to be approved, entered into the roster and paid. Sending the order to Ren’s employee email would create a record Endo could not later deny.
"Don’t play legal games with me, Kisaragi," Endo muttered, his voice dropping into a harsh whisper. "Don’t expect any preference when the monthly schedule is posted."
Endo set the clipboard onto the desk and turned his back.
Ren didn’t hesitate. He pulled out his small pocket notebook, noted the exact time. 14:56, and recorded Endo’s verbal request, his own refusal, and the lack of written documentation. At 15:00 sharp, he clocked out at the terminal, stepped past Yui at Register Two. She glanced from him to the wall clock but said nothing. He walked out the front door into the crisp afternoon air.
Endo had not surrendered. The manager’s grudge was now active and dangerous, but Ren had protected his time.
The winter sky over the Kawaguchi riverside was turning a bruised indigo by the time Ren reached the embankment.
His body protested every step. His left ribs ached from the lingering impact of his fall earlier in the week, and his legs felt heavy from standing six hours on QuickMart’s linoleum floor. The Foundation Task required three daily walks, at least six hours of sleep where his schedule allowed, two complete three-meal days, and one honest creditor conversation.
Thursday had been successfully completed yesterday, he had followed his morning rice and egg with a proper lunch of grilled mackerel bento and an evening meal of pork-and-vegetable ginger stir-fry, keeping the bakery curry pan as a simple afternoon snack.
Today was the final hurdle. He had eaten rice, grilled fish, and miso soup before his shift, then used his break for a chicken-and-vegetable bento instead of coffee and packaged bread. One more complete meal would secure his second required three-meal day.
Ren set his phone timer and began his steady stride along the gravel riverbank path. The wind coming off the Arakawa was damp and biting. He kept his posture upright, focusing on breathing deeply despite the burn in his thighs and the dull throb in his chest.
Thirty minutes. Step by step.
He didn’t run. He didn’t rush. He simply maintained the pace, refusing to let fatigue break his form. When his phone finally chimed at thirty-one minutes, his legs were trembling slightly, but he stood tall against the river wind.
He walked back to his apartment, stopping at a local grocery stall to buy fresh tofu, greens, and chicken breast. Back in his small room, he cooked a hot stew over his single-burner stove. The stew completed Friday’s third proper meal.
After eating, he cleaned his bowl and laid out his futon. He sat on the edge of the futon with his Muji notebook on his knees. The optional Social Task connected to the bakery remained open in his System menu, its five-day timer ticking silently.
Ren picked up his pen and began drafting potential introductions on a scratch page:
"Hello, I work down the street at QuickMart. My name is Ren Kisaragi." — Deleted. Too stiff.
"I’m Ren, the person who found your order slip yesterday." — Deleted. It sounded as though he wanted credit for a tiny favour.
"I’m Ren Kisaragi. I usually come by after dawn shifts." — Deleted. Sounds desperate.
Ren stared at the scratched-out lines. Facing down Orient Credit’s collector had taken nerve. Facing Endo’s threats had taken calculation. But the thought of walking up to the bakery window, looking into the young woman’s warm amber eyes, and offering his real name without a respectable title, a thriving career, or a clean bank account filled him with a cold, hollow hesitation.
Confronting an aggressive manager was a matter of rules and boundaries. Standing before her as an exhausted, debt-ridden convenience-store worker was an act of complete vulnerability.
He closed the notebook and set it beside his futon at 20:15.
At 20:30, his phone screen lit up on the floor, displaying a series of blue notification lines.
[SLEEP REQUIREMENT VERIFIED.]
[WALK REQUIREMENT VERIFIED.]
[NUTRITION REQUIREMENT VERIFIED.]
[CREDITOR ENGAGEMENT VERIFIED.]
[FOUNDATION TASK COMPLETE.]
[RANK ADVANCED: PROVISIONAL SUCCESSOR.]
[Taxable personal distribution: ¥50,000.]
[Daily Legacy Income: ¥500 for 30 days.]
[Health: 3 → 4.]
He opened his banking application. The balance screen updated with a new transaction line:
Incoming transfer: ¥50,000
Sender: Genichiro Legacy Reserve — Support Distribution
Authorisation: Continuity Trustee [IDENTITY RESTRICTED]
Tax record: available for download
It was his first substantial estate-linked support distribution. The immediate pressure of choosing between food and overdue bills had eased.
Ren immediately opened the utility company’s payment portal and cleared his oldest overdue balance of ¥6,200 from his personal account. The payment reduced his newly available funds, but it removed the immediate risk of a water shutoff notice.
Before 21:30, Ren walked into a 24-hour Lawson three blocks from his apartment.
He walked past the clearance racks to the fresh food display. With deliberate care, he selected a premium salmon onigiri and a hot cup of tonjiru soup from the heated counter.
He paid with his debit card, watching the transaction clear cleanly.
Ren carried his food to the small standing counter by the window, looking out at the quiet, streetlight-dampened pavement of Nishi-Kawaguchi.
He unwrapped the onigiri carefully, taking a bite. The rice was soft, perfectly seasoned, and filled with rich salmon. He took a slow spoon of the tonjiru soup; the broth was thick, steaming hot, and rich with root vegetables.
He ate without rushing. Tonight, standing beneath the soft white light of the convenience store, he tasted every grain of rice.
He pulled his phone from his coat pocket and unlocked the screen. The System interface rested on the main dashboard.
[Bronze Threshold: personal transformation, first independent income and one relationship risk.]