Wayside - 1920s Japan Dramedy

Kazuma's eyes scanned across the study. With the exception of the faint yellow sunlight creeping through a pair of streaked windows on the right, he spotted a moth-filled light fixture hanging from the center of the room's ceiling, one which would have positively sputtered and burnt out immediately should it have been turned on.

Save for the insect carcasses making their graves in the ceiling lamp, the room was indeed much tidier than the rest of what he had seen of the house.

A large Victorian-style desk situated in the very back of the room generated an atmosphere of foreboding authority in an otherwise quaint space.

Atop the desk sat an inkwell well past its prime in one corner while another housed a tabletop clock that clearly hadn't ticked in years.

Shelves of books comprising a wide variety of genres lined the wall to the left with a small waiting table and lounge nestled beside them.

Alfred took note of Kazuma's rather meticulous inspection of the room, the hairs on his neck standing up as the door closed under Kazuma’s grip.

The way Kazuma had turned towards him as if he was a wound-up toy soldier coupled with an expectant, artificial grin was rather daunting to say the very least.

"Let's talk business, shall we?"

"Yes, of course!" Squaring his shoulders, Alfred made his way beside the cedar waiting table. He sat himself into one of the nearby chairs and motioned for Kazuma to take the seat opposite him.

Settling into the creaky chair facing Alfred, Kazuma rolled back his shoulders and rested one leg on his knee before rummaging through his vest pocket.

"My apologies, but would it be quite alright if I-?”

Leaning forward, Alfred waved his hand understandingly as he eyed the ash tray and metal cigarette case being pulled from Kazuma's pocket.

"Oh, by all means, go ahead, please." He laughed while shaking his head, one hand quickly running through his golden locks. "Yeah, you'll need more than one when you're done with her."

Setting the tray in front of him, Kazuma pulled one thin cigarette from the container and lit it with a lighter from his pant pocket. Placing it between his lips and shifting his head to the side as a stream of smoke passed through his nose, Kazuma waited for Alfred to continue. He didn't need any names to know whom he was referring to.

Alfred sat in silence for a few seconds, grasping for the best words to describe the situation at hand.

"I'm...sorry about my niece." He figured an apology for her rude behavior would be a decent start. "She's usually more agreeable." A pause was followed with a shaky shrug of his shoulders. "Well, not by much, but-"

Kazuma remained silent while taking another draw. He was admittedly growing quite amused at how nervous Alfred was becoming, his speech turning faster and more jumbled with every syllable that passed through his lips.

"No need for apologies, Mister Hampton." Alfred's head shot up as Kazuma continued. "I can imagine that her life has changed quite a bit ever since she moved here with you and your wife."

He pointed towards the metal container and lighter now placed atop the table, welcoming Alfred to take one cigarette for himself.

While he hadn't particularly received the best impression of Alfred, he figured the least he could do was help the man alleviate some of the stress that was undoubtedly caused by their meeting.

"Fiance, actually. And call me Alfred, nobody calls me Mister Hampton."

Kazuma's eyebrows raised as he watched Alfred carefully light himself a cigarette. A low hum could be heard rumbling from his chest.

"A fiance." Kazuma repeated to himself. "Well Alfred, I always give credit where credit is due." He banged his knuckles on the table, a wry grin stretching from ear to ear. "You certainly picked yourself quite a lovely woman. I can imagine she and Miss Lucy get along quite well."

Alfred had to hold back a burst of laughter after hearing Kazuma refer to his niece as "Miss Lucy."

By no means was he an expert in the subject, but usually a "miss" was a young lady with manners and a reserved personality–neither of which his niece possessed.

His fiance, on the other hand–

"Yuko is the love of my life."

Kazuma was taken aback at the genuity now present in Alfred's voice, an unanticipated change from the roistering tone that Kazuma had quickly grown accustomed to.

Alfred continued, disregarding the lit cigarette fizzling away between his fingers. "We met each other in Chicago. She was staying with some family who laid down roots there, but when word came around to her dad over here that some low-brow construction worker was pining after his daughter, I bet you can imagine his reaction. And not to mention how different we are, our backgrounds, money, everything."

Kazuma nodded without a word as Alfred waved his free hand around the ornate room, taking a puff from the cigarette.

Nodding his head once more, Kazuma broke his silence. "Yes, I definitely can imagine the adversity the two of you have had to face." He felt his shoulders tense involuntarily. "The modern world is rather unforgiving to those who deem it archaic."

"Yeah, you can say that again." Alfred took another drag and snubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray, unaware of Kazuma drumming his fingers against the side of his armrest.

Two puffs and he was tapping it out? Alfred was either a floaty or simply had no idea how much those cigarettes went for.

For perhaps the hundredth time that day, Kazuma's brow twitched in annoyance. He made a mental note to never offer Alfred another in the future.

"Well, forgive me but back to the subject at hand, I came today because Mieko told me about your financial situation."

"Ah, of course." Alfred scratched the back of his neck as his nerves overcame him once more.

Kazuma clicked his tongue. "More specifically, how you are considering starting a business of your own to support your family."

Alfred nodded. "Yes, that's right. Yuko and I have some savings, mainly my inheritance from my late father. But that's been dwindling ever since we've arrived."

"Why go about struggling to start a business when native English instructors are always in demand?" Tapping out his own cigarette butt, Kazuma crooked his head to the side as Alfred explained himself.

"I...don't really think me or Lucy are cut out to be educators, Mister Kamoi."

"Oh?" Lacing his fingers and resting his elbows on the table, Kazuma leaned forward. “Pray tell the reason.”

"For starters, neither of us went to college. Neither of us even went on to higher schooling. I stopped going to school at twelve and I think she might have stopped even younger, maybe around ten."

"I see." Kazuma was not prepared for such a reply. Truth be told, Kazuma didn't know how to respond. He wasn't sure himself what kind of answer he was expecting from Alfred, but it hadn't been that.

Alfred nodded. "I mean, we can talk no problem but we're not exactly scholars on grammar and stuff like that."

Alfred, Kazuma could see not being a star pupil. But Lucy appeared to have a good head on her shoulders. One that shouldn't be wasted due to lack of opportunity.

He bit the inside of his bottom lip. Before any givings of pity could barge in and cloud his better judgement, Kazuma returned to the matter on the table.

"I'm going to be completely honest with you, Alfred." Light tapping could be heard from beneath Kazuma's chair. Alfred directed his attention away from Kazuma's face and to the table above the sound as Kazuma huffed out a sigh. "Starting a business–It's not necessarily a walk in the park for locals and it’s certainly not easy for a foreigner. Some may say it’s still uncharted territory."

Kazuma absentmindedly traced a line with his index finger on the wooden surface, hardened gaze never leaving Alfred’s face.

"Of course, there are a handful of large foreign-owned businesses that have offices here, and there are some smaller ventures, but you should understand that both of those are still few and far between."

"Few and far between'' was a generous way of putting it. Even with the opening of the country, even with rather progressive fiscal policies put in place within the last century, it didn't take a degree in economics to conclude that foreign-run businesses were still uphill battles.

Uphill battles which Kazuma wasn’t so sure he was willing to partake in.

Kazuma shook his head as a familiar wave of unease began to reclaim its home within his stomach.

"Do you have any propositions as to what kind of venture you would like to pursue?"

The vacant look glazing across Alfred's green eyes was not the answer Kazuma was hoping for. They sat in silence before a puff of air exhaled through Kazuma's nose.

"I have a favorite phrase that I believe you Americans created. I learned it while I was in New York."

Alfred gulped down the feelings of nausea clawing up his throat.

So that's where Kazuma was–New York. No wonder his English sounded so...imposing.

"Time is money."

The tapping of Kazuma's foot boomed throughout the compact study. Every beat served as a new rush of anxiety, vibrating from Alfred's stiffened spine and branching out all the way to his quivering fingertips.

Kazuma searched Alfred's face for any semblance of comprehension regarding the meaning behind his words.

None whatsoever.

He was quickly approaching the point where he would have preferred engaging in ten business transactions with Mieko's father rather than spending one more moment of his time with the man frozen in the chair opposite him.

Kazua felt the fine hairs above his upper lip twitch in aggravation as the beginnings of a grimace overpowered his usual cordial grin.

“My time is money, and I don’t want you wasting it.”