Part I: オタク (The Geek)
> “Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new.”
>
> -Albert Einstein
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Chapter One: It’s on Like Donkey Kong!
June 23, 2010
The truck didn’t even slow down. Trash reached out to keep his balance after he jumped to avoid the delivery truck that had narrowly missed hitting him. It had come so close he could feel the tire vibration through his sneakers. Unfortunately, all he could grasp was one of the handlebars of an old bicycle propped up against a signpole. He crashed to the ground on his ass, pulling the bike down on top of him. Cursing inwardly but unharmed, he quickly got up to his feet and returned the bicycle back to its place against the pole, checking around to see if his fall had been noticed.
Fortunately, few people were around this area during the late morning, and no one was looking at him. Trash checked the road, and the truck was already gone. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heartbeat.
He couldn’t blame the driver, he thought to himself. It was his own fault for stepping into the street like that. Then he looked up at the small sign propping up the bicycle.
[Watch for Pedestrians]
He smiled grimly. He supposed he could blame the driver after all, at least partially. Dusting off his pants and rubbing his hands, Trash checked himself. Nothing was torn, and fortunately, his backpack hadn’t hit the ground. Nothing should be damaged. As he thought about the contents of his bag, the adrenaline rush cleared from his head, and he remembered why he had been rushing down the street in the first place.
He was late. Shit!
With a bit more caution, Trash started running down the sidewalk. He had to dance around several signboards that littered the sidewalk in his path. Although no one had paid attention to his near miss with the truck, he could now feel disapproving glares as he ran past the shops and offices. This is why he hated going out during the day. Only normies were out this early.
Arriving at his destination, Trash pulled out his phone. 11:46. No messages. He was late, but not egregiously so. He tried to tidy himself up after his unexpectedly athletic commute. Pulling out a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, he mopped the sweat from his face while cursing the summer Tokyo humidity. It wasn’t even July, and already the city was starting to turn into a sauna.
The shades were drawn on the shop next to the restaurant, and he could somewhat see his reflection in the glass. He took the unusual step of checking his appearance.
Trash had actually grabbed his best, cleanest clothes for this meeting. To be honest, that didn’t leave him with many options. That said, even he had to admit it was a somewhat weak showing for a business meeting. His hair was the usual unruly mop. He was due for his quarterly trip to QB House soon. He wore a green Uniqlo AIRism t-shirt, one of the few he had without anime characters on the front. Covering it, he had on his prized MS-09 Dom jacket, Purple with a black hood and red piping. If he was going to be dispatched to another world by a random traffic accident, at least he wanted to take this jacket with him. Luckily, it hadn’t been scuffed by his fall earlier. It was irreplaceable.
His jeans were old and fraying at the cuffs. It was hard for him to find pants that fit, ironic considering his line of work. Trash was an expert at obtaining things. IRL or online, if there was a rare video game or piece of anime memorabilia, Trash could find it. But jeans that fit a 180cm tall build with a 42 waist in Japan were practically impossible. He had to order his pants from the US, and that cost more than he was willing to spend on a wardrobe no one cared about anyway. Considering the meeting today, however, he regretted going so long without replacing his aging clothes. Especially when he was about to enter an establishment like the one he was currently standing in front of.
Accepting that this was as presentable as he was going to get, Trash looked at the corner shop in front of him. Large glass windows let him peer into a small but fancy, trendy restaurant with expensive and delicate-looking furniture. A signboard was propped up by the doorway with the restaurant’s name at the top.
~ Capricieux ~
A hand-drawn menu was written out in chalk below the name. As it was all in French, Trash had no idea what most of the items were, but he was relieved to find the one item he was looking for near the top.
Steak aux légumes de saison
Everything was so pretentious, from the name to the decor to the hand-drawn menu in a foreign language. This place was an aberration, almost an insult to the real estate it occupied. It belonged over in Ochanomizu, or Kagurazaka, or even Ginza. Not in the geek capital of Japan, Akihabara.
He pushed open the door and felt the cool blast of air-conditioned wind rush over his sweat-covered body. Wiping his face and hands again, he shoved the wet fabric back into a pocket on the side of his backpack.
He quickly scanned the room. It was still early, and there were no tables occupied yet. That would change soon when the lunch crowd arrived, but for the first time since he woke up, he felt like he was lucky. He wasn’t late for the meeting after all.
Then, he had another thought. What if that guy couldn’t find this place? It was a bit far from the station. Would he have taken a taxi? How could Trash reach him if he got lost? Maybe he should have just gone to the hotel to meet there? He didn’t have a phone. This whole thing was a mistake. Why did he ever agree to this meeting?
As he stood there, a tall man approached him from the back of the restaurant. Trash recognized him. A tall guy, almost as tall as himself, but thin, with a neat goatee beard and perfectly styled hair. His face was a perfect mask of professionalism, but Trash knew behind those kind eyes was a harsh glare of judgment; that polite smile carried a hidden snarl of disgust.
「Welcome! Are you here for lunch?」The waiter spoke Japanese at least.
「Y…yes. I’m meeting someone.」
Trash’s mood continued to darken. Why this place? Why did he have to suggest this place?
The man smiled, then turned his head to point his chin towards the windows along the side of the restaurant. Trash followed the movement and finally noticed a figure sitting at a small table in the back. It was a blond man in a dark brown blazer with his back to the door.
Trash bowed slightly to the waiter, then moved as carefully as possible through the maze of delicate-looking tables and chairs. He removed his backpack and held it in his arms to avoid bumping or breaking anything as he navigated to the far corner where the foreign man was sitting.
“Lancelet?”
The man turned to look up.
“Trash? Is that you?” The man looked at him appraisingly.
Trash smiled back weakly, nodding.
He stepped around to the other side of the table and sat down opposite the man, placing his bag on the floor. Within moments, the waiter returned and placed two glasses of ice water with lemon slices at the bottom of each cup. Then, he retrieved a large basket from the back of the restaurant. Placing it on top of one of the empty chairs, he picked up Trash’s backpack and gently placed it inside the basket.
「What would you like to order?」 He asked.
「Steak lunch. Medium well, Ice coffee after the meal.」 Trash blurted out his order in a quick, efficient manner.
That time, he definitely caught the smirk on the waiter’s face flash for a second. Then he turned to the foreign man.
“Vous avez-vous fait votre choix?”
“Qu’est-ce que vous recommandez?”
“Je vous suggérer notre spécialité du jour, la sériole royale grillée avec des légumes de saison.”
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Ça a l’air délicieux. Je vais prendre ça, s’il vous plaît.”
“Très bien, monsieur. Et comme boisson? Nous prenons du café, du thé ou du vin.”
“Le vin, s’il vous plaît.”
“Excellent. J’apporte votre repas rapidement.”
“Merci.”
Trash was even more annoyed after that display. At least there were no other customers yet to witness that exchange.
The blond man seemed to notice Trash’s discomfort.
“My French is rubbish, but the owner here apparently studied culinary in Paris, and we were chatting a bit after I came in.”
Trash was surprised. He had thought that jerk was just the waiter. He hadn’t realized that it was the owner. How long had he been here? Trash was only about ten minutes late. He quickly checked his phone. Make that twenty minutes.
“I’m sorry I was late. I had a little accident on the way,” he embellished. Actually, he had just overslept.
“Oh, are you okay?”
Trash nodded.
“Anyway, It’s great to get to meet the famous Trash finally!” The man said with a giant smile, extending his hand over the table.
Trash wiped the sweat off his palm on his jeans before reaching out and shaking his hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, Lancelet. After so many chats,” he spoke slowly and cautiously. Trash rarely ever spoke English out loud, preferring email and Twitter. He didn’t like speaking Japanese out loud that much, either. Text was easier and less embarrassing.
“It’s great to speak English again! I’ve been here two days already, and most people won’t say a word to me. I was starting to feel lonely.”
That sounded like a lie. Trash looked at the man seated in front of him. It was hard to gauge Westerners by appearance, but he figured the man to be in his thirties. He was handsome, like a Hollywood actor. Nice straight teeth, styled blond hair, fit build. He wore a black turtleneck shirt under the jacket like Steve Jobs. Well, that made sense. Trash was sure there were tons of girls who would happily approach him down in Roppongi or Shibuya.
He was not at all what Trash had imagined based on their correspondence online. He thought Lancelet was a comrade, not a shitty normie.
“Oh! I brought something for you,” Lancelet reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small plastic object in a cellophane wrapper.
“Thank you, Lancelet. You didn’t need to,” Trash replied while taking the item with both hands.
“Nonsense! I read online that it’s considered good manners in Japan. Besides, it’s not much. Just something I got at SXSW that’s been sitting in my suitcase for weeks.”
He took a look at the small object. It was a white plastic disk, about seven centimeters across. In the center was a picture of a garbage can. The big round metal ones they have on American TV. There was a large red circle around the trash can and a red diagonal slash cutting through the center. Inside the wrapper was a small slip of paper with a picture of a slice of pizza on it.
“Pretty cool, huh? It means no trash. I got it at a private party for some new data recovery startup. Get it? They undelete your trash,” Lancelet giggled with a very unattractive laugh. Maybe this was the American geek that Trash was expecting after all.
“It’s actually a USB key. They usually fill those up with software demos and pitch commercials, but with SXSW, you never know. Maybe they loaded it up with porn. Wouldn’t be the first time,” he laughed with that horrible sound again. It was like a cat coughing up a hairball. That movie star image was permanently destroyed.
“Thank you, Lancelet. It was very thoughtful of you.”
“Hey! You’re my Japan fixer comrade. Call me Danny!” He insisted.
Trash caught a glint in the man’s eye as he said that. This was a trap, but he wouldn’t fall for it.
“I see. Danny. Thank you, Danny.”
Not knowing what to do with the strange toy-like object, he stuck it in the small hidden pocket inside his jacket. The pocket was too small for a phone, so half the time, Trash forgot it was there.
A few seconds passed in silence as they smiled politely at each other.
“Damn. I was hoping that would work.”
“Not a chance,” Trash replied with a grin. He was finally getting his feet under him in this exchange.
Thankfully, the owner returned with their lunches. Trash was already drooling. The reason he had chosen this particular location for their meeting was that this restaurant served the best steak lunch in Akihabara. This was a well-guarded secret that Trash had only recently learned, thanks to his friend Pazu.
For a person who practically survived on instant noodles and Yoshinoya beef bowls, an authentic, properly cooked meal was less common than a trip to the coin laundry. Of course, Pazu fed him whenever he went over to his place, but he tried to limit his freeloading at his best friend’s place of business.
Pazu had brought him here once to celebrate the launching of his website, the one that Trash had spent weeks setting up. Ever since then, he had dreams about the steak they served here. He rarely could afford to visit, but when he could, he would tolerate the typical normie clientele of rich old ladies and well-dressed office workers to order the phantom steak lunch set.
Now, thanks to Lancelet… Danny, he was going to get to eat this rare treat. That alone was worth dragging him out for a customer meeting. Especially considering how things had been going lately. This might be his last chance to enjoy it.
Five minutes later, Trash leaned back in his chair. He looked up and realized that Danny was smiling at him. The plate in front of Danny had a few bites of fish missing, but Trash’s plate was squeegeed clean.
“Man, you inhaled that steak!” Danny said, followed by a mercifully short laugh. Trash noticed that a few more customers had come into the restaurant as the lunch hour had started. He could feel the eyes drawn to their table by the disharmonious noise.
“You want another?”
Trash felt a strange sensation as his mind and body split entirely in purpose and intention. The result was an odd shaking of his head and a garbled grunt of noise from his throat.
With a big smile, Danny raised his hand to get the owner’s attention. He pointed to Trash’s empty plate.
“Encore un steak, s’il vous plaît.”
Before Trash could object, the owner nodded and was gone. As he turned, Trash could catch that annoying smirk on the man’s lips.
“It’s okay, really. You shouldn’t,” Trash protested weakly.
“Don’t be silly. You are not just my fixer but my precious Japanese friend. Besides, it’s the least I can do considering what I asked for your help with.”
That was it. The sign that it was time to start talking about business. After all, this was not just some tourist here to visit the temples and eat sushi at the fish market. Trash nodded and reached for the backpack.
“Wait, let’s just enjoy the food. We can talk business over coffee.”
Trash nodded again and sat back in his chair.
It was several months prior that Lancelet had asked Trash for help brokering a new kind of deal. Something that he was well positioned to accomplish but inexperienced in the process. It was a task that could get him in serious trouble if he made a mistake, but the reward offered was exactly what he needed.
Trash knew that he was small-time. He mainly dealt with small, rare items for special collectors. Hard to find video games were his specialty. He called himself a kusoge-hunter. A branch of video games that were so bad that publishers actively collected them back to remove the embarrassment of having made them in the first place. They were called “shitty-games” because they were sometimes so bad they were unplayable and could get so rare that collectors would pay a high price to get them despite their flaws. That was how he met Lancelet in the first place.
Using his one marketable skill, English, Trash perused global forums and auction sites, looking for customers trying to buy rare Japanese games. That’s where Lancelet had been searching for one of the Holy Grails, the MacDonald’s staff trainer for Nintendo DS. Why he wanted it, Trash had no idea. It was a worthless piece of garbage.
It was well known in the game collector community that only a few copies of the staff trainer still existed. It was a special offering that the fast food giant had commissioned, thinking they could use video games to train new employees faster and cheaper. It obviously failed. Most of the cartridges were collected by the corporate HQ and either shoved in a box in the basement or outright destroyed.
At last count, the number of verified carts in circulation could be counted on one hand. Not only had Trash managed to track one down, but he also got the unique code needed to activate the software. This feat not only earned him a fair amount of clout in the hunter community but also gained him a loyal customer who paid an impressive commission.
Since then, Lancelet would send him other jobs, looking for everything from parts for Pachinko gambling machines to custom-made Dojin-soft games that were only sold at fan conventions on hand-burned CD-ROMs. Lancelet would give Trash some of his most interesting jobs, and they had exchanged Twitter DM’s often, not always for commissions.
Then Lancelet asked if he could help broker a deal with another Japanese person. This time, rather than the tens of thousands of yen their past deals had involved, they would be talking about tens of thousands of dollars.
At first, Trash was inclined to refuse. It sounded too shady, especially with those numbers. Lancelet was talking about millions of yen on a single deal. That was more than Trash made in a year. Even if his commission would get him out of his problems in one fell swoop.
Then he found out what the deal involved.
After they had finished eating, the owner brought out two cups of coffee. One iced for Trash and the other a café au lait for Danny. Danny had also had wine with his lunch, and the set usually only came with one drink, but the owner added the extra coffee and some gelato desserts on the house.
Trash thought it was reasonable, considering the looks that Danny was getting from some of the younger female clientele. They would probably be back in numbers, hoping to spy the handsome foreigner again. Too bad he would be heading back to America in a couple of days.
After the owner left, Trash reached again for his backpack. This time, Danny didn’t say anything. He opened the bag and dug deep inside until he found two unmarked white cardboard boxes. He placed both boxes before Danny and sat back down without a word.
Both boxes were the same size, about the size of a thick A5 size book. Trash was very familiar with these boxes as they were commonly used to ship electronics. Everything from computer components to rare video games could be found in these ubiquitous treasure boxes.
Danny took one of the boxes and slid out the flap on one side, then opened up the box to examine the contents.
“Now that is what I am talking about!” He exclaimed, loudly enough that half the heads in the restaurant swiveled to look at their table.
“Shit! Sorry,” Danny said, again drawing even more attention to them. Trash just sunk into his chair and tried to disappear.
Still grinning, Danny looked back into the box.
“You are the man, Trash. You came through.”
“Yes. About that,” Trash said quietly, looking down at the table.
Danny looked up, worry starting to cross his brow.
“There was a little bit of a complication when I went to pick up the product.”
Danny slowly closed the lid of the box. His easy-going smile gone. He stared at Trash in the face with a harsh look that chilled Trash more than the air conditioning had.
“What kind of complication?”