The Devil Is a Part-Timer!, Vol. 7

by Satoshi Wagahara

  With that, Maou darted off to the staff room and came back with an ad circular Chiho had never seen before. She stared blankly at the customer as he left.

  “That’s not something we see mentioned too often,” Maou said, showing her another copy of the circular, “but yeah, you can make reservations for birthday parties at some locations. Mostly the suburban ones, though, since our inner-city MgRonalds are usually on the small side.”

  The circular included a picture of a boy, perhaps kindergarten age, enjoying a party—balloons, the whole bit—with a MgRonald crewmember supervising.

  “Young kids, you know, they look up to people who work at places they go to all the time. Some of ’em really like the uniform and our hats and so on. That’s a pretty rare request, though, so don’t worry about it too much.”

  “…”

  Chiho cursed her thoughtlessness as she read through the circular. If that was the question the middle-aged man had for her, chances were he’d intended to hold a party for his grandson or something. If she had gone ahead and given him the wrong information, the whole thing might’ve been called off.

  “…Guess that’s why I better ask if I don’t know, huh?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Like, I had never heard of that before, so I just assumed it didn’t exist…”

  “Ohh. Yeah, well, I’ve never seen it myself, either, so…”

  “Sorry about that. I’ll try to be more careful.”

  “It’s cool.” Maou nodded. “Don’t let it get you too down, all right? Just keep it in mind, and you’re guaranteed not to make that same mistake again.”

  “…All right.”

  “Oh, but don’t expect that everything’s gonna go perfect from now on, either.”

  “Huh?”

  “Well, I mean, if you did everything perfectly during your training period, there’s not much point in me being around, y’know? Me and Ms. Kisaki and everyone else on the crew had to go through the same thing, so really, making mistakes is kinda part of the job description when you’re starting out. As long as you learn from them, it’s all good.”

  The advice, given freely but with ample consideration for Chiho’s feelings, helped her feel a little more at ease. It certainly wasn’t a matter of Maou going easy on her.

  “Sure,” Chiho replied, “I’ll try not to rely on you guys too much, though. I don’t want to be embarrassed to get paid for this.”

  Maou’s eyebrows arched up a little at this unexpected self-admonition. “Huh,” he said. “I think I’m starting to see why Ms. Kisaki said you’d probably stick around for a while.”

  “Oh?” a quizzical Chiho asked. She didn’t know why, but if the manager apparently had high hopes for her, that certainly couldn’t be a bad thing. Little by little, she was using her eyes, her ears, her whole body, to understand the environment around her. This, she supposed, was what work was. And as she reflected on this in bed, her eyes grew heavier and heavier.

  “…Better go brush my teeth,” she said to herself, almost dropping her phone as she worked her creaky legs out of bed and to the bathroom.

  Chiho’s adventures in part-time employment continued over the ensuing two weeks. She wasn’t at MgRonald every day, but by the end of her seventh shift, she was starting to feel she was past the initial hump, at least. It was tiring work, and not every moment of it was fun, but picturing her next shift was never a depressing thought for her.

  “Yeah, so why’re you acting all gloomy, huh?”

  Kaori had a point. Despite her generally glowing review of shift life at MgRonald, there was still a dark shadow covering her face.

  “Well…I like the manager and all the people on the crew, but…I guess that’s kind of the problem, actually.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Um…I think I might be gaining weight.”

  “Huh?”

  Beyond her first orientation session, Chiho had been ordered to eat something from MgRonald’s regular menu for dinner on each of her six subsequent shifts. She was a fan, of course, and getting a free meal out of work was nothing to sniff at—but all the calories were starting to become a concern.

  “I’m glad they’re feeding you and all, but every time? That’s kind of rough. Why’re they doing that to you?”

  “I guess their reasoning is that I can’t give recommendations to customers unless I know how things taste for myself. I know we’ve been there a lot, but there’s a ton of stuff on the menu I’ve never eaten before…”

  “Ohhh.” Kaori nodded. This made sense to her. “Yeah, I’ve never been there for breakfast, I guess. That, and I never really bother with stuff that’s not on the value menu, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Chiho replied, trying not to make it sound like she was bragging about her job too much. “But once my training’s over, I’ll have to start paying for my own meals. I think I still get thirty percent off or something, though.”

  “Ooh, nice.” Kaori let out a jealous sigh. “You really lucked out with that job! Everyone’s really nice, they aren’t pushing a lot of crap on you, and they even let you eat for free! Man, I bet I coulda stayed on a while longer over there. So what do you think, though? Has it helped you figure out life as a high school grad yet?”

  “Not…really, no.”

  She had almost forgotten about that thorny issue—the very one that had inspired her to seek a job in the first place. She was happy enough with the work, but the whole point behind it—her quest to figure out how she wanted to proceed with life in a couple of years—was still an open question. She’d need to submit that survey form pretty soon, and the teacher conferences at the end of the month were just a few days away.

  “Hey, uh, Sasaki?” Yoshiya pitched in. “How much are you makin’ an hour?”

  “How much? Um, it’s eight hundred yen an hour while I’m in training; that’s what they pay high school students. Once it’s over I think it’ll go up by fifty yen.”

  Beyond that, apparently, it would depend on her performance. As Kisaki put it, Maou was a living legend around the MgRonald location thanks to his earning a hundred-yen raise after two months—in orders, just one month out of his training period. The dedication he brought to the job was obvious in Chiho’s mind. It’d take a while, she reasoned, before she could reach that level of talent.

  “Damn, so if you work six hours a day, you’ll make, like, almost five thousand? Wooooow.”

  “Yeah, if she does,” Kaori snapped back. “Yoshiya, could you stop being amazed at Sasachi’s fast-food job and worry about your career guidance survey a little more? You know how strict your parents are with you.”

  Chiho had first met Kaori upon entering this high school, but Kaori and Yoshiya had apparently known each other since their elementary years. Every now and then, she’d bring up little clues to their past like this. Kaori’s acerbic criticism when dealing with Yoshiya was something honed across years of interaction, but given how well they got along with each other anyway, Chiho assumed neither of them took things too personally.

  This time, however, Yoshiya’s reaction drifted from the norm.

  “Ah, I dunno about…strict, exactly. Like, nowadays, it’s like I’m not even part of their lives anymore. I’m not even kidding when I say that I don’t think they’ll show up for the conference.”

  “Oh?” asked Koari.

  “What do you mean, Yoshiya?” Chiho added.

  “Well, you know about my brothers, right, Shoji?”

  “Ohhh.” Kaori sagely nodded.

  “Wait, you’ve got brothers, Kohmura?” Chiho inquired.

  In the two years that Chiho had known Yoshiya, it was the first time she had heard of this. It naturally struck her curiosity, but Yoshiya winced at the topic, something he seemed to not want to bring up.

  “Mmm, I was hoping Sasaki wouldn’t have to know about it…”

  “Huh? Why not?”

  “Ah, ’cause if you knew about them, I figured you’d make fun of me for—ow!”
<
br />   Kaori’s pencil case, packed to the gills with writing instruments, made a clean hit on Yoshiya’s face. It whizzed right past Chiho’s ear along the way. She could tell there was a lot of heft to it.

  “Well, that’s why we treat you like an idiot!” Kaori shouted. “Because of that attitude! You know Sasachi isn’t like that!”

  “…Geez, the zipper bounced right off my teeth…”

  “Well, go wash my case down and disinfect it! Right now!”

  “I totally can’t believe you, Shoji…”

  “Whoa! Guys, calm down!”

  Chiho wound up having to listen to them bicker over her head for the next five minutes. Yoshiya still didn’t want to talk about his siblings, so Kaori took the reins for him.

  “So, like, Yoshiya has two older brothers, but get this—the oldest one’s a judge, and the other one’s a doctor, right?”

  “What?!” Chiho couldn’t help but shout. This was beyond anything she expected.

  Yoshiya, for his part, glumly shook his head. “Quit making up stuff, Shoji,” he said. “The oldest one wants to be a judge, but he’s still in his legal apprenticeship. And my other brother’s taking the test for his medical license this year, so he’s not a doctor yet.”

  “Right, that,” Kaori agreed. “And meanwhile, the youngest kid’s failing out of Sasahata North, and you can kinda see how that makes things awkward around the dinner table, right?”

  “Geez, don’t spell it out like that,” Yoshiya groaned. “I mean, my parents kept pressing me to work really hard like both of my brothers did, but I think they’ve, like, given up on that. They barely even talk to me anymore—I told them about that mock exam and they were just like ‘Oh? Hmm.’ And it’s not like I got some kind of other special talent, either. Basically, I’m just waitin’ until I can get the hell outta there.”

  “Kohmura…”

  “That’s why I was thinking,” he went on. “You ’n’ Shoji, you both got work experience, right? Maybe I could find a part-time job somewhere so I can get out sooner.”

  Chiho didn’t pursue the subject any further—Yoshiya looked peeved enough revealing what little he did about his family—but to her, the kid seemed like he could be in some serious trouble.

  Kaori must have felt the same way. “Yoshiya,” she said, her voice low and serious, “if you start working as it is now, it’s gonna go beyond repeating a year. You’d pretty much be forced to drop out.”

  “Well,” Yoshiya replied, “as long as I’m making money, it’s all good, isn’t it? Y’know how people say the stuff you study in school doesn’t even help out in college at all these days. That’s what I’m probably gonna write in my survey, I guess. Go straight to work, ’n’ all.”

  He was back to his usual free-wheeling tone. Chiho couldn’t tell how serious he was being.

  “Hey there.” Kisaki struck up a conversation with Chiho, who was currently manning the register. “Something got you down? Did you have a question about something?”

  “Oh! Hello. Um, nothing like that, but…well, maybe it is, actually.”

  “Hmm?”

  Her head was occupied with thoughts about her future and the conversation she’d had at school earlier. Yoshiya, Kaori, and herself were all trying to squint into the future, trying to figure out which path was the right one for each of them, and all completely failing to reach a conclusion.

  “So I got to talking to my friends at school about the future, but… I really don’t know what I should do yet, and I’m gonna have to talk about it at a parent-teacher conference in a few days. I have to think of something, but… I dunno.”

  “Oh, that kind of thing?” Kisaki nodded, her face showing her concern.

  “Yeah… Sorry I’m not too focused on—”

  “Well, I can give you a grown-up’s advice, or some completely irresponsible advice. Which do you want to hear first?”

  “Huh?” Chiho exclaimed. She was expecting a verbal warning not to space out on the clock—but not only was Kisaki empathizing with her, she was bringing the conversation down an exceedingly odd direction.

  “…Okay, how about the grown-up advice?”

  “Sure. From a grown-up’s perspective, what you tell your teacher or guidance counselor about your future means absolute jack squat, so there’s no point worrying about it at all.”

  “Huh?!”

  This felt outrageous to Chiho. It sounded like just another grown-up giving her half-baked advice that did nothing to help her. But, judging by her facial expression, Kisaki was expecting that reaction.

  “Why do you think that is?” she asked. “Well, it’s because the grown-ups asking you that question already had it resolved for themselves ages ago.”

  “Wh-what do you mean…?”

  “Once you’re old enough, it gets a lot easier to look back at your high school years and see what you could’ve done to be more successful later on. That’s why they don’t understand why kids like you are getting so worried about this crossroads in their lives—they went down that path long ago. And most grown-ups, you know—they’re kind of embarrassed about how they acted in high school. They had more passion than intelligence, and they were totally honest with themselves back then. So that’s why outside of your parents, your teachers, and whoever you’re working with at the test-prep center or whatever, you should just ignore advice from anyone who doesn’t know anything about you.”

  “The test-prep center?”

  “Sure. It’s their whole job to make sure you can have a smooth transition to wherever it is you’re going. When it comes to thinking about their students, at least, I think you can trust them.”

  “I see…”

  “Now, for the totally irresponsible advice: Most worries about career guidance pretty much boil down to ‘I don’t know what I should do, what I should aim for, what I should study.’ You don’t know what kind of work clicks with you. You don’t know what you should pick as your major in college.”

  “Right. Exactly. So—”

  “If I wanted to be totally impartial here, I’d say you go to a low-tuition public university, take law or premed, and become a doctor or judge or whatever. It’s getting hard for lawyers to keep their heads above water these days, even, so I’d say public service would be the way to go.”

  “But…” Chiho hesitated at the eerily familiar advice.

  “But,” Kisaki continued with a sly smile, “me telling you that doesn’t really help you decide on anything, does it?”

  “No…”

  “So in that case, why bother thinking that far ahead in the first place? After all, who can even say where you’ll be this time next year? Because there ain’t a grown-up in the world who knows that for themselves, and yet they’re asking kids like you to make this huge, vague life decision. It’s really sad, what they make you do.”

  Kisaki’s voice grew to a crescendo.

  “The whole career guidance thing is about thinking about what you’ll do today for the sake of tomorrow. Because maybe you don’t know where you’ll be next year, but you got a pretty good idea of what you want to do tomorrow, right?”

  “Tomorrow, huh…?”

  “Yeah. It’s literally that. Today, and tomorrow, just like it is on the calendar. Your career’s in the future, and what’s the future besides a whole long succession of todays and tomorrows, anyway? Most people out there…they aren’t intelligent enough to look past everything in front of them and seriously think about life one or two years down the line. Instead of that, you gotta work with what you have. Reach out to tomorrow—reach out to what you can still grasp with one hand—and you’ll be grasping next year before you even know it.”

  “Just to tomorrow…”

  “Right. So!”

  Suddenly, Kisaki put a hand on Chiho’s head. She looked up in response.

  “Now that I’ve clouded up your mind even more like the grown-up I am, how about we focus on the work we’ve got right now? Like I said, what you do today has everyth
ing to do with how tomorrow works out.”

  “Oh! Um, okay.”

  “You gotta keep a clear mind when you’re handling money. Make sure you’re telling your five-thousand-yen bills from the ten-thousand-yen ones.”

  “S-sure thing!”

  Chiho went back to work, although the cloud wasn’t fully extinguished from her mind. On no less than two occasions today, her lack of focus caused her to almost treat five-thousand-yen banknotes like they were ten-thousand-yen bills. If it wasn’t for the rule that change for high-denomination bills had to be counted with another crewmember as a witness, she would’ve quite literally given away her day’s salary to her customers.

  “I apologize. I’m gonna focus on my work now.”

  This time around, she felt she really meant that from the heart. The fog hadn’t lifted from her head, but she still felt a great deal relieved compared to before.

  “Perfect,” Kisaki replied. “Now I’m glad I gave you all that self-important junk a second ago. I gotta head over to the office for a little while, but if you run into any problems, ask another crewmember, all right?”

  “Okay!”

  “Good luck, Chi.”

  “Sure!”

  The slightly contrived encouragement Kisaki gave her as she waved and disappeared behind the staff room door didn’t sink in for a moment. Then:

  “…Wait, did she call me ‘Chi’?”

  Her next visit to the staff room came at the end of the shift. There, she was surprised to find Maou in street clothes.

  “Oh, you gettin’ off, too, Sasaki?”

  “Yeah, thanks. Are you done, too?”

  “Uh-huh. Bit earlier than usual. I was here since morning today.”

  The Hatagaya MgRonald was not a twenty-four-hour location. It closed at midnight, with the closing of the rail line for the day, and while Maou usually stuck around after Chiho’s departure in order to handle closing duty, his early arrival today apparently meant he was going home sooner as well.