Wayside - 1920s Japan Dramedy

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

More silence. Another moment passed.

Just as Kazuma had lost all resolve, he began to stand from his chair. No matter how important of an outlet this bunch was to Mieko, no matter how entertaining and humorous the Lucy girl was, he couldn't bring himself to willingly throw hard-earned money into a blackhole with no guarantee of returns.

"My brother used to say the same thing."

Eyes on the floor and back half-bent, Kazuma froze. He blinked before craning his head upwards to stare at Alfred once more. There was a spark of determination firing up from behind his glasses, a welcomed change from his previously dull gaze.

Kazuma remained frozen in place. "Did he say 'time is money' or did he say you were wasting his time? Or both?"

Kazuma hesitantly returned to his chair while Alfred released a loud laugh.

Alfred was fully aware that now was most definitely not an appropriate time to be laughing in Mister Kamoi's face, but for the life of him, he couldn't stop himself.

"I mean no disrespect, sir–"

"Really now."

This had to have been one of the most bizarre "meetings" Kazuma had ever been a part of. He had seen a man's coat set on fire from a renegade cigar, he had even seen a performer fall flat on her done-up face after trying to stand up after a koto performance and song.

What he hadn't experienced up until now, however, was an American on the brink of poverty with the nerve to laugh in his face.

"Do you gamble?"

Kazuma's head was still spinning from the absurdity of the situation presented before him, unable to immediately digest Alfred's next round of random babbling.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You did sound exactly like my brother just now. That's why I laughed, first of all." Alfred was now leaning back in his chair, limbs turning into jelly. His previous nerves had melted away to reveal a self-assured smile settling across his face.

The manner in which Kazuma was staring him down, pupils blown wide, the lines in his face growing taught, all warned Alfred that time was running out.

He needed a plan of action, and fast.

"Second of all, it was a simple question. Do you gamble."

Kazuma jolted in surprise as another spark of laughter filled the room.

What surprised him even more was that this time, it had come from him.

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Come on, you were in New York, weren't you–"

"Yes, I do gamble."

At this point in their back-and-forth, Kazuma began to feel the onset of exhaustion pecking away at his mind and body. He forced himself back into his chair, elbows aching as they pressed into the table.

Where was Alfred running with this charade?

"You gamble, you invest, I take it you're a man of risk."

"Some would say so, yes."

"I also take it you'd stick around if we made this whole ball game more interesting." Alfred was now sitting with one hand on his knee, eyes alight and grin creasing his cheeks. Taking a breath and holding onto a hope and a prayer, he continued. "If you decide to stick around, put money into our family, advise me on how to work with said money–"

「Wait, wait, wait–」 Kazuma cursed silently as he found himself sputtering at Alfred's ludicrous request.

Alfred smirked while Kazuma attempted to piece together some sort of reply.

The beginnings of a lump began to form in his throat, driving down any possible wisecracks looking to jump from his mouth.

After a few seconds of shaking his head, he gulped away his doubts and decided that Alfred had had his fun.

Now was the time to regain the upper hand.

"You expect me to just give you money?" Kazuma's eyes darted from his lap up to meet Alfred's face once more, a foolish face that was still smoldering with determination despite the senseless request it had the gall to make mere seconds before.

Stick around, put money into our family…

"Just–" Kazuma threw his hands up, following a sloppy pattern of vague hand gestures.

He found himself repeating the sentence over and over in his head, holding onto some inane hope that reason would follow repetition. "Give you money with no promise of return? No fallback?"

"Well, I never said there would be no return, you didn't let me finish." Alfred chose his next words carefully.

Mister Kamoi was intrigued, no amount of feigned offense could tell Alfred otherwise. The nausea that had made its home in Alfred's throat during Kazuma's lecture was making its rounds again, only this time it was welcomed.

This time it pushed his words out instead of down.

"Just maybe not a return you're used to – unconventional, if you will."

Kazuma tilted his head to the side, a subtle, nearly mechanical movement as he pondered Alfred's cryptic suggestion. "Go on."