● April 3rd (Sunday) – Asamura Yuuta
Sunday morning. At an hour I would normally be spending in quiet leisure, I found myself standing before the bathroom mirror, fighting a battle I was destined to lose. After wrestling with my hair and retying my necktie for what felt like the tenth time, a glare at the minute hand of my watch confirmed I was out of time. With a sigh of resignation, I decided this would have to do.
I really don’t get how you’re supposed to wear a suit…
Any more delay, and I’d be late for the entrance ceremony.
The root of the problem was my complete lack of foresight. It was only two days ago, on Friday, with spring break drawing to a close, that my dad had casually asked, “So, what are you wearing to the ceremony?” sending me into a quiet panic. I’d just vaguely assumed I’d wear my school uniform, a force of habit I was now realizing ran deeper than I thought. It also occurred to me that turning eighteen was supposed to be the start of my preparations for adulthood.
With that in mind, I’d figured buying a proper suit would be a valuable experience. But now, actually wearing the thing, I couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling that the suit was wearing me.
A wave of gloom washed over me as I made my way to the dining room.
“Good morning,” I offered, stepping into the room.
Ayase-san, who was in the middle of setting breakfast on the table, glanced up. A moment of silence passed before she spoke, her voice even.
“Yeah. It’s fine,” she said simply. “It suits you.”
Her words caught me off guard, and a flush of embarrassment made me want to deflect with a mumbled, “It’s not that great,” but I held my tongue. If Ayase-san said it suited me, then my own opinion was irrelevant.
After the entrance ceremony, I made my way back to Shibuya and headed straight to my part-time job for the first time in five months. My shifts were resuming today, and while I’d stopped by the bookstore a few times to buy things, it had been far too long since I’d actually set foot in the office. Steeling my nerves against the possibility of new faces among the staff, I stepped inside and offered a greeting.
From the back of the office, the manager looked up with a welcoming smile.
“Asamura-kun, it’s good to have you back.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied.
Just as I was turning toward the lockers to change, the office door flew open with a clatter.
“Manager, is he here yet?!”
Tumbling into the room was Kozono Erina-san, my junior coworker whom I hadn’t seen in just as long.
“Hello, Kozono-san.”
“Ah, hello— Whoa, Yuuta-senpai! The suit looks amazing on you! You look so cool!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. Her highlighted hair swayed with every excited movement. Seeing her after half a year, her features seemed a bit more mature, stirring a strange, almost paternal sense of pride within me.
“Nah, you’re exaggerating.”
“I’m not! It’s super cool. You look so… adult!” she insisted. “I’m so jealous.”
After that, a chorus of similar compliments from my other coworkers led me to a simple conclusion: formal suits must be engineered to look good on just about anyone.
Aside from a few fumbles at the register, my first shift back went surprisingly smoothly. It seems the skills you pick up don’t just vanish with time.
Being surrounded by books again after six months was a potent reminder that even if I were to quit this job, I would never stop reading. I simply love books. That said, discovering that a series I’ve been following has two new volumes out, on top of finding six other interesting new titles, including some practical guides, made me feel a bit overwhelmed. It was like an entire army of authors was personally targeting me, a single, humble reader.
Perhaps having a long train commute would be a blessing in disguise. At the very least, it seemed I’d have no trouble securing some reading time.
