I awoke, snuggled within the futon on the floor of Suzumi’s apartment, hearing and smelling the cooking of food from only a few metres away in Suzumi’s kitchen.

I quickly began to rise from the floor and plopped myself down on the couch. I checked my phone, the same robotic voice telling me that it was 12:43 pm. The sound of the super speed voice alerted Suzumi to my wakefulness.

“Grayson! You’re awake!” She said cheerfully. I looked over in the direction of her ribbon and smiled gently.

“Good—well—afternoon, Suzumi. Have you been up long?” The stove was turned off and food was being removed from whatever it was being cooked in and plated.

“Oh, you know, just going around doing odd jobs and all. I’ve been up a few more hours than you already.” She said as she bustled over to the couch and placed a plate or bowl on the wooden coffee table in front of me.

“What’s this?” I asked, curious. I felt out in front of me, placing my and flat on the table and sliding it across to where I thought the plate was so I didn’t accidentally get a hand full of food.

“Just quick egg fried rice. Nothing special. Picked up western cutlery from a store on the way home though.” I picked up a decently sized bowl with one hand, and my other hand had a spoon gently placed into it and I started to eat.

“Hey, this is pretty good!” I exclaimed. Truthfully, I’d been worried about the differences in foods but this was pretty close to home for me, so if worst came to worst, I was able to survive off of egg fried rice.

“Why thank you, kind sir.” Suzumi said smarmily and I rolled my eyes at her. She giggled a little and continued to eat her own.

“Oh! I also put that letter in the post for you.” I thought for a second before I remembered the silly job posting and we broke out into another little giggle fit.

“I wonder if I’m going to get a reply from them. Or anyone really.” I said ponderously, but Suzumi cut in, seemingly thinking I was getting down on myself.

“If you don’t, then I’m sure I can pull some strings with my mother. She wouldn’t be able to get you anything fancy, but she’d be able to get you something.” I hummed into a mouthful of food and then swallowed.

“What does your mother do?” I said before taking another spoonful and shoving it into my mouth. I was hungrier than I thought.

“Owns a small business on the other side of town. She knows basically every small business owner in Karakura, a real socialite she is. Really good at buttering people up too.” She laughed like she’d stumbled upon an inside joke for the first time in a while, and I smiled at her antics.

“Ah yes, now I see where it comes from. Apple never truly falls far from the tree.” Even Suzumi’s ribbon looked scandalised by that one. I let out a peel of laughter while Suzumi jokingly tried to argue.

We spent a few hours, just sitting near each other talking about nothings. I learned that her full name was Suzumi Hamase, that she was a ‘half’, her father being American and her mother being incapable of anything but the most basic English—despite her father being both incredibly well learned in English, doctorate level apparently, and also being fully fluent in Japanese plus being obsessed with learning new kanji.

As the story went, he was so terrified that his future daughter would ask him about a kanji, or how a word was said, or what it meant, that he spent years cramming as much Japanese into his brain as he could. He had worked as a high-level English and Japanese teacher, much to the chagrin of the other Japanese teachers who couldn’t beat him in niche kanji structures. It was then that I realised that the stories of her father contained a lot of ‘had’ and ‘did’, and not much about what he was doing now.

I wrapped an arm around her shoulder as she recounted stories about her father. His wacky hijinks, the strange situations he always seemed to get himself into, all the way to the otherness that her and her father faced together. The slight exclusion, the feeling of inadequacy to her peers because of her heritage, and her frustrations with being unable to show everyone how great her father was, without being looked at oddly, without it being commented on.

Before long we arrived at the part of the story that we both knew had been coming. While she sunk deeper and deeper into my half-hearted embrace, she told me of the day her father hadn’t come home. The day that his bicycle remained at work and he had died because of a simple fall in the street. She recounted the terrifying anxiety as the police arrived on their doorstep, when they rushed to the hospital, unable to get there before he had sunk into a long, long sleep.

There was a silence between us after that. I could feel the wetness on my chest, her face buried into as comfortable a place as she could. I couldn’t say anything, mostly because I too had tears running down my face. I knew her every word was filled with so much emotion, so much experience behind it. I could almost see the moment when the blue and red light showed through the thin curtains, the horrible suspicion that your door was going to be knocked on, and then the knocks on the door that changed the course of your life forever.

For just as much time as we talked, we sat there in total silence, a lazy hug and gently rubbing circles on her back while she lay on my chest. I wondered if she was now sleeping in my arms, but slight sniffles every now and then said otherwise.

“I’m sorry, I don’t usually dump this sort of stuff on strangers.” She said, almost mumbling it into my chest. I let out a low chuckle.

“No, you’re alright. I’m sure that you also don’t let strangers sleep on your living room floor. You’ve done a lot for me recently. The least I could do is listen.” She lifted her head from my chest and her ribbon mimicked her looking directly into my eyes. I lifted my hand from her back and embraced her cheek with my hand.

Her skin was smooth. It was warm and wet with tears, but I gently bushed them away, taking utmost care to not accidentally jab her in the eye. I felt her lean into my touch ever so slightly. I could only smile, if only a little uncomfortable with the intimacy of the situation.

“Your father sounded like an amazing man. I wish I could have met him.” Her ribbon quivered ever so slightly, and a hot tear rolled onto my thumb.

“You are a lot like him.” She choked out, sadness and happiness intermingling in an odd fusion of emotion. I chuckled, leaned forwards and gently touched my lips to her forehead, a risk that I somehow knew was fine to take.

“A compliment of the highest order!” I said boisterously as I moved back from her forehead and grinned. She laughed, a sound that must be divinely created to soothe the greatest of pains. Just as I was about to speak there was a knock on the door. A heavy knock.

It broke the moment, but I grinned through it.

“Sounds like we have a visitor.” Suzumi jumped up, filled with a renewed energy, and just about skipped towards the door. A real energizer bunny, that one. There was a momentary pause before the door unlatched and Suzumi opened the door. Suzumi said something in Japanese that I think was ‘Hello, can I help you?’. There was a sound of a throat being cleared and then a very deep, resonating voice reached my ears.

“Is Grayson Carter living here, ma’am?” This was spoken in fluent English with no noticeable accent.

“Uh, yes? What do you want from him?” Suzumi responded unsurely. I sensed the nervousness in her voice and decided to get up and carefully wander towards the door where Suzumi was standing.

“I received a job application from this Grayson Carter, and my boss has made it very clear that he is to be notified of his acceptance as an employee as soon as possible. Ah, you must be Mister Carter.” I moved beside Suzumi in the tight doorway space, looking out towards this person who I could only see the feint outline of. From that much I could tell he was huge. He was easily six foot five or taller, just from eyeballing it. I couldn’t see what he looked like, but his voice was intimidatingly deep, almost enough to rumble the thin walls of the entranceway.

“I’m sorry, I believe that you may have your hand out. I am legally blind, so if you could clasp my hand…” I reached out my hand and was gently clasped by a very large hand. The man was gentle and considerate despite his size, no squeezing matches against this guy thankfully.

“Yes, I thoroughly read your application. Your specific skills gained from past experience in the workforce and your willingness to learn shone through quite clearly. I know of very few that have elevated their lives past such boundaries as lacking sight, it is highly commendable.” The man clasped my hand with his other as well, and bowed in front of me, quite respectfully if I remember correctly from what I read about bowing. I quickly bowed deeper.

“It’s quite flattering of you to say that. I was not always without sight, so I feel I have always had more to gain from a life without it.” There was a grunt of pleased acknowledgement from the man as my hand was given back to me.

“My name is Tessai Tsukabishi, you are free to call me Tessai, I work as a store clerk for Urahara’s Sweets. Mister Urahara would like to meet you as soon as possible.” As soon as possible? For a sweets shop this recruitment was quite fierce. The vibe that I was getting from Suzumi clutching my wrist tightly wasn’t great.

“You must realise that I can’t help but be a little sceptical of this. It’s hardly usual recruitment tactics to show up on their front doorstep.” There was a rumbling hum from the large man in front of me.

“I see. I have not ever hired someone through ‘normal’ means. We had employees in the past, but they have since moved on to greater things. I have put up a job listing but have not received any application other than yours so far. The title of your letter was quite compelling, may I add!” There was a quiet snort from Suzumi, but it seemed to go unnoticed. I sighed. The man seemed genuine, from what I could tell anyways. Just because he was odd, and his boss was odd as well, didn’t mean that he was malicious at all. In fact, he was quite endearing.

“Mister Tessai, I’d be glad to go with you to this interview, but I’d like to make myself… presentable.” I gestured to my attire, nothing more than a tee and a pair of sweatpants. I got the distinct impression that Tessai nodded and I retreated back into the home to quickly clean up and threw on some clothes that were more appropriate for a job interview. Or job acceptance interview?

It took surprisingly little time, having already been to the bathroom once in the middle of the night, and having precisely set up my luggage so that I could find everything I needed in no time at all. Not fifteen minutes later I was wishing Suzumi a quick goodbye, saying that I’d call her once the interview was done, and her promising that she would pick me up. I begrudgingly agreed, only because I didn’t have any way of getting home on public transport yet, I’d need someone to guide me through the process at least once.

Tessai guided me carefully down the steps, though I remembered how many steps there were and was relatively confident in getting down the steps without issue. Soon enough I was in a relatively small car, surprising for such a large man, but he seemed to fit in fine.

The drive was punctuated with small snippets of conversations, but Tessai seemed like a man prone to internal pondering and was just as comfortable with silence. I listened to Japanese radio for the first time, which was a very strange experience, but at least the songs were enjoyable—for the most part anyway.

Before long we had arrived at what I presumed to be Urahara’s Sweets. As I got out of the car, I looked to see a strangely shaped building, much in what I imagine was a more traditional Japanese style, rather than the modern stone block buildings that surrounded it—a sharp contrast with the regular surrounding buildings. I was led towards a set of doors that slid open sideways, and into a storefront filled with two rows of product.

Honestly, it seemed good. Small and easily able to navigate if I had to restock and potentially manage customers, though I wasn’t sure how I’d get around the language barrier just yet. Tessai guided me towards the back of the room where I was lead through a few long corridors and into another room that was far less spacious than the storefront. In the room was a table, low to the ground and who I assumed to be this Urahara character.

Tessai led me to my seat but moved around the table to sit traditionally with his boss. Urahara said something in Japanese to Tessai very quickly, almost impatiently.

“Urahara would like it if you were to drink the tea in front of you, Mister Carter.” I got a wave of the heebie-jeebies, but did so, not one to disappoint.

After one sip of the liquid, I almost spat it out for how disgusting it was, but I desperately swallowed the revolting warm liquid—feeling the strange fizz of the liquid course down my throat slowly, like drinking a syrup. A second passed, and then another, and an inexplicable pressure began to form in my ears.

It was a strange and somewhat disconcerting feeling, as the pressure started to rise and rise, and the strangeness only began to increase. A flood of words entered my mind, starting as a trickle, then a torrent. For just a moment, I thought I was going insane, before the words stopped and all became still once more—the pressure lessening until it was finally all gone.

“Well, I assume that worked its trick.” A bored voice intoned. I scrunched my face up in confusion. I could swear that the words he was speaking were Japanese, but I interpreted them as English?

“Uhm, sir? What was that I just drank?” I said, slightly nervous.

“Unimportant. What is important is why one of the strongest souls I have ever recorded has walked into my humble little shop?” The same voice, obviously belonging to Urahara, stated, darkening slightly. I gulped, swallowing a sudden overproduction of saliva. I shifted uncomfortably in my kneeling position on my cushion, my knees spontaneously hurting for no reason.

“I don’t suppose that we could discuss my hourly rate?”