The train rattled along the tracks, its rhythmic hum barely cutting through the noise in Kazuya’s head. He gripped his bag a little tighter, his fingers pressing against the worn fabric.
The interview was in thirty minutes.
Kazuya had told himself he was going just to see—just to confirm that he didn’t belong in that world anymore. But as the train sped toward the heart of Tokyo’s bustling business district, he felt his resolve waver.
He had picked out the best outfit he could manage—a clean button-down, dark slacks, and polished shoes that had gathered dust in his closet for months. He looked professional. He looked like he belonged.
But did he?
His mind flickered back to the izakaya. The warmth of the kitchen. The smell of grilled skewers and simmering broth. Takashi’s firm but encouraging voice. Emi’s teasing grin. The feeling of accomplishment after a long shift.
Could he really give that up?
The station announcement broke through his thoughts. His stop was next.
Kazuya stepped off the train and into the sea of office workers, their crisp suits and hurried steps pulling him into a familiar current. It felt like a past life—a world he had once been part of, a world that had once defined him.
As he walked toward the towering glass building, a knot tightened in his stomach. This was it.
The receptionist greeted him with a practiced smile and led him to a waiting area. He sat, his back stiff, his hands folded in his lap.
A part of him had expected to feel a spark of excitement. This was, after all, what he had worked so hard for. But instead, all he felt was a quiet unease.
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His thoughts were interrupted when a sharply dressed man in his early forties approached, offering a firm handshake.
“Kazuya Fujimoto? I’m Sasaki, the head of software development. It’s good to meet you.”
Kazuya stood, shaking his hand. “Likewise.”
Sasaki led him to a sleek conference room with a view of the city skyline.
“Let’s get right to it,” Sasaki said as he flipped through Kazuya’s resume. “Your background is impressive. You worked at some of the top firms before your, uh... recent gap.”
Kazuya stiffened slightly but nodded. “Yes. I took some time to reassess my career direction.”
Sasaki smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I see. Well, your technical skills are solid, and frankly, we could use someone like you. Our team is expanding, and we’re looking for senior engineers who can handle high-pressure environments. You’d be leading a team. Competitive salary, full benefits. It’s a great opportunity.”
Kazuya listened, but the words felt distant.
High-pressure. Deadlines. Leading a team.
Once, that would have thrilled him. Now, it just sounded exhausting.
“Tell me, Fujimoto,” Sasaki continued, leaning forward. “Why do you want to come back to this industry?”
Kazuya hesitated. It was the question he had been dreading.
He could lie. Say he missed the challenge, the prestige, the problem-solving. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure he wanted to come back at all.
Before he could answer, Sasaki’s phone buzzed. The man glanced at the screen and sighed. “Apologies, I need to take this call. We’ll continue shortly.”
As Sasaki stepped out of the room, Kazuya exhaled slowly.
His eyes wandered to the city below. The endless movement. The towering buildings. It was all so familiar, yet it felt so far away.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
A message from Takashi.
“We’re swamped today. Think you can come in early?”
Kazuya stared at the screen. It was such a simple message, but it felt like a lifeline pulling him back to solid ground.
A small, bitter smile crossed his lips. The izakaya needed him. Here, he was just another candidate. Another resume in a pile.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard. He should say no. He should focus on the interview. But instead, he found himself typing:
“On my way.”
He stood, grabbed his bag, and walked out of the room.
By the time Sasaki returned, Kazuya was gone.