Chapter Twelve: All Life Begins With Nu And Ends With Nu.
What awaited them at the top of the staircase was not what either of them were expecting.
The record store was atop the second floor of the building, but did not face into the street. Instead, it faced a small park-like area that was atop the hill that fenced the street in on its North side. From the park, you could look down onto Takeshita Street from above, and you could walk directly into the record store that sat atop another store that faced into the street.
The park was surprisingly large and flat. Surrounded by a ring of trees. The store looked more like a large house from this perspective, with large double doors that were open to the wide space with music spilling out.
Beside the open entrance was a large white wooden bench, and on the bench was a giant bald man with onyx black skin. He wore a very poorly fitting dark green suit jacket over a clean white dress shirt. As they approached the door, he did not look at them, nor respond in any way at all.
Trash and Danny looked at each other, then shrugged and went inside the store.
Inside, it was just as you would expect. Rows and rows of boxes, full of vinyl records. Posters of album covers and old rock concerts covered the walls. The music was coming from an actual working antique jukebox.
Trash was amazed. It was exactly what he imagined an old-time record store would look like, but considering the practicality of the modern world, one that seemed like it was more of a movie set than a real functioning store.
“Hey, hey, my, my, what do we have here?” Danny was standing by the inside wall, next to the jukebox. At first, Trash thought that the machine was what had caught Danny’s attention, but it was, in fact, the wall behind it.
The entire wall was covered with framed photographs. Hundreds of them. Some were new, while others looked very old. There were blurry black and white shots, next to sharp photos that could have been printed days ago. They were mixed together, with no obvious pattern. Many featured foreigners while even more appeared to be Japanese people of many different ages.
In each of the photos, most of which seemed to be taken in this very store, or a similar-looking backdrop, were two or sometimes three people. One person appeared to be the same in each photograph. In the more modern pictures, he looked to be an old gentleman. He was small and thin, had white or grey, slicked-back hair in an understated pompadour, thin, circular-rim glasses, and a thin, handlebar mustache.
He sometimes wore old-fashioned Western clothes, similar to the costume Sakamoto fancied, complete with suspenders and large leather shoes. In other photos, he wore a traditional Japanese Kimono, making him look like an artist or writer.
“Jagger, Dylan, Bon Jovi, Joplin, Clapton, Lennon, Lennon and Yoko! McCartney, Dolly Parton, Osborne, Freddy Mercury, Prince, Jackson, Janet too, Madonna, Bill Clinton? Rabin, Thatcher, even Nixon? Are these real? Is that Steve Jobs?”
“Ah yes, that one. He used to visit often, but it’s been a while.”
Both Danny and Trash swiveled around to face a tiny old man. He appeared even smaller than he had in the photographs, but it was, without a doubt, the man in each one of the photographs on the wall.
Trash recognized some of the names that Danny had read off, but as he scanned the photographs, he could not recognize anyone. Some looked like politicians, or celebrities, and a few dressed like athletes, maybe baseball stars.
He had been to a restaurant like that before. Where the owners put up pictures of famous people who had eaten there, not that he recognized any faces then either. For Danny to have recognized so many faces, they must have been quite famous. At least outside of Japan. He would have to ask Pazu about the Japanese people in the pictures and see if he knew any of the faces.
“Hello, my name is Hibiki Horikoshi, and this is my humble record shop. You must be Hiroyuki’s friend…”
The man spoke quietly and slowly, but with incredible confidence, as though he was in no hurry whatsoever. Like nothing in the world bothered him, or greatly concerned him either.
It took a moment to realize that the old man was speaking in English. He spoke as naturally as Danny, though with even more depth, despite his small size.
“Y-yes, I’m…”
Trash mentally tripped over his own name. For years, he went by his nickname, the one Pazu helped him make his own. He thought of himself by that name, and only his family used his given name. The name he despised.
Now, for the first time he could remember, he faltered over which name to give this man. There was something in that voice. Something that made him afraid. Especially of lying. He felt the consequences of lying to this man would be grave. It was unclear why he felt that way. The only things he could recognize were the few words that the man had spoken, and the steely, cold look in his eyes.
“Umm, My name is Oob-“
“Hiroyuki, mentioned that you prefer to go by an unusual nickname. May I ask what it is?”
“‘Trash’, I prefer to be called ‘Trash’.”
“Unusual indeed, but interesting in its own way. May I also call you Trash, then?”
Trash nodded. He looked over and saw a curious look on Danny’s face.
“And you, I’m sorry, I don’t know your name. Would you mind?”
“Uh, not at all. I’m Daniel Landis. You can call me Danny. It’s nice to meet-“
“Ah, Landis… Yes, I see. From Silicon Valley?”
Danny gulped, and his color dropped a shade. Then he nodded.
“Yeah, yes. I got my start there a few years ago.”
“Yes, Thank you, Danny. It’s nice to make your acquaintance. Now, would you like to have a seat so that we can talk? Or you are welcome to look around the store for a while.”
“Uhh, If we could have some of your time, we would appreciate it, sir.”
Trash had no idea how to act in situations like this. He was just trying to mimic what he had seen in movies he had seen.
“Excellent! Agbor? Would you be so kind as to bring some tea into the sitting room?”
At that request, the giant mountain of a man at the entrance stood, then walked through the store and out a door in the back. Despite his size, he moved smoothly and quickly, without disturbing anything in the cramped quarters of the store.
“This way, then. Trash, Danny,” Hibiki moved to another door on the other side of the store. It opened into a large sunroom looking out into the park.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Are those pictures… All those people, are they real?” Danny seemed to be unable to contain his excitement, and blurted the question out.
“The pictures are real; as for the people, well, that is something only time can reveal, don’t you think?” The old man said with a wink.
“Please, have a seat.”
Hibiki gestured at two lounge chairs, facing the outside, while he sat in a small wooden chair facing them.
The door opened, and Agbor came in, carrying a large tray in one hand. From the tray, he placed a large kettle, a small pot, a small pitcher and a sugerbowl, and three cups, onto the table in front of Hibiki. It was amazing that everything could be carried on one tray, but the man handled each item with ease.
Hibiki lifted up the large kettle and poured out some boiling water into the pot.
He prepared the tea in silence. Each step was practiced, as though he had poured thousands of pots of tea in this room and manner before.
Trash and Danny shared a look. Despite the ordinary nature of the situation, there was a strong, intimidating aura that was impossible to miss.
As he finished pouring the tea, it appeared to be a black western tea, the old man spoke.
“Milk, sugar?”
Danny shook his head quickly, “No, straight is fine.”
Trash paused, then spoke quietly.
“Yes, please. Both.”
Hibiki smiled, then he used a small spoon to add a scoop of white sugar to each two of the cups. Then, he poured out some milk into the same cups from the small pitcher.
He took a small spoon and stirred one cup.
The large servant appeared immediately and placed one of the cups in front of Trash. He took the cup of plain tea and placed that one in front of Danny. Then he moved the sugar and milk to the center of the table and put a small basket of chocolate-coated cookies beside them.
Trash thought to himself that the man would be the pride of any Akihabara maid cafe. His actions were smooth and minimal. There was no wasted movement at all.
Trash took a sip of the tea. With all the ceremony involved in making it, he half expected it to be some amazing drink. It was just tea. He reached out and picked up one of the cookies. It was a hard, round, dry cookie that was coated on one side in chocolate. Taking a bite, he found the cookie to be dry but slightly sweet, similar to the energy bars that were popular with office workers who skipped meals. The chocolate was sticky and far too sweet.
He quickly took a sip of the tea. Together, they balanced each other out well, but it was too troublesome. Now, his fingers were covered in chocolate.
A cloth napkin had appeared like magic next to his cup of tea. He had not even seen it placed there. While he knew what the napkin was for, he was still hesitant to use it to clean his hands. It seemed like a waste to spoil the clean white cloth, but the alternatives were to wipe them on his sleeve, or… no, not that. He could never…
Looking up, he saw the old man with sparkling eyes and a wide grin, submerging one cookie deep into his tea. After holding it there for a few seconds, he pulled it out and bit into it with relish. He dipped it in again, and with that pattern, quickly finished it off. Finally, with no hesitation, the old man licked the melted chocolate from his fingers before wiping them on the napkin placed at his side.
He then took a sip of the tea, and sat back with a contented look on his face.
“They say, in England, whatever problems you have, anything can be solved with a cup of tea. If it’s a particularly difficult one, then a cup of tea and a biscuit.”
Trash wiped his hand on the cloth and leaned forward.
“We have a small problem, and I was hoping… wondering if you might be able to help us.”
“Well, I’m not sure what I might be able to do for you, but I’m, very fond of the Takeda’s, and of course, young master Hiroyuki. If there is anything this old man can do to help you, I will certainly do my best.”
Trash and Danny exchanged looks. Danny spoke next.
“I have some… business here in Japan. Unfortunately, a problem has come up that requires a large amount of capital, immediately in order to resolve it. I have plenty of funds, but nothing available to me here on short notice…”
“I am certain an international wire transfer could be arranged in a day or so,” The old man continued to speak in his slow, even metered pattern.
“Yes… It’s just that our associate. He’s rather unsophisticated. It’s become rather complicated, and transferring the amount we need could cause… additional problem.”
“I see… Please forgive my rudeness, but could I ask how much money you are in need of?”
“A hundred thousand, US dollars. Though we need it in Japanese yen now, and in cash.”
“I see.”
The man did not seem the least bit concerned by the amount that Danny had laid out. It neither seemed to concern him, nor interest him in any way. He reacted with as much emotion as he had when Trash had asked for milk and sugar in his tea.
“I’m sorry, I don’t see how I could be of any help. I am simply a small business owner.”
Danny gave a look to Trash. Even trash had been surprised by how quickly the man had turned them down.
“I’m sorry, sir. I understand it’s a lot, but we aren’t asking for a loan. Danny… He has the money, and…”
“And?”
Trash was on the spot. He spoke up to try and save the deal somehow, but he had no idea how. He had imagined something like a gangster comic book. That he might have a big briefcase of money under the table and they would just need to promise him a percentage.
Real life is nothing like the comic books. Of course, he had learned this lesson well. It had been the theme of his entire life. He used comics and cartoons, movies and novels, to escape from his life. But whenever he opened his eyes, he saw the reality of the harsh world in front of him.
“Would you be interested in an overseas bank account? In Singapore?”
Danny scowled at Trash. They hadn’t actually discussed that type of arrangement.
“You are offering a trade?”
There appeared to be a hint of interest in the man’s voice. Both Danny and Trash looked at each other in surprise.
“I do have an account. It’s holding up a paper company. Legal and registered in Singapore. The paperwork has been filed with… our associate’s information, but it’s easy enough to change since he hasn’t taken ownership yet.”
Danny had a strange look on his face. Like he was unhappy, yet curious at the same time. Trash wasn’t sure where he stood at this moment.
“I see. This can all be verified?”
“Yes…” Danny answered hesitantly.
Trash was bothered. The man had opened the door, just a tiny crack. It was their only change. Danny had already put in a lot of money; Trash had nothing left if this fell through. Why was he acting like he didn’t want it to work out?
The old man turned his gaze back on Trash.
“And you, Trash. What is your role in this business? How are you involved.”
“I’m not… I mean.”
Trash didn’t know what to say. He looked at Danny, who just shrugged his shoulders.
“I’m here to help the deal go through. That’s it. I just know everyone involved, so I can explain things to Danny and… both parties. But it wasn’t working out, so I asked Pazu… Hiroyuki, for help to get the money exchanged. I’m sorry, I wasn’t educated enough to know if this is okay… I apologize if I’ve offended you…”
The old man stared intently at Trash, then looked over at Danny who sat back on his chair casually.
“Mr. Landis. You would be willing to transfer the funds in Singapore to me in exchange for immediate access to cash equivalent here in Japan?”
Danny went rigid. Then he looked at Trash and smiled.
“Yes, of course.”
“And how will you be compensating me for my part in this?”
“Oh! Of course, of course. I can increase the funds in the account by… three percent?”
Trash stared at Danny. This was not the time to pinch pennies. The solution to the problem was right here.
“Five percent!”
Trash stared at the Hibiki for some reaction. Any reaction, but he saw nothing. The old man stared impassively as if he said nothing.
“Eight, no Ten percent. Please, could you do it for ten percent?”
“Trash!” Danny hissed.
“Ten?” The statue finally moved.
They both stared again at Hibiki, who picked up his cup and took another sip of tea.
“You would like me to provide you with one hundred thousand American dollars, converted into Japanese Yen, all in cash? And in exchange, you will transfer ownership of the account in Singapore, worth $110,000, is that correct?”
Danny scowled at Trash, then looked at the old man thoughtfully.
“Yes, if that is possible, it would be a helpful arrangement for me.”
Hibiki slowly stirred his tea, then slowly regarded the two men in front of him.
“I’m sorry, it would seem that you have misunderstood what type of assistance that I offer.”
Both Trash and Danny exchanged confused glances.
“I am not a bank or a loan shark. I am a humble businessman. I sell records that bring music and joy to the world.”
“But…” Trash started to protest, but realized he had nothing to stand on. He and Pazu had made assumptions, even upon. Even him, it seemed clear that he was more than he appeared, but it was only assumptions. He had screwed things up again.
“Mr. Landis, why are you here?”
“What do you mean? Trash brought me here. He said you could help with my problem, but it seems he was mistaken. I’m sorry to have troubled you.”
Trash could see Danny’s temper starting to seep into his tone.
“Trash, why did you come here then?”
“I apologize. It was my mistake. Pazu… I mean Hiroyuki. He said something once about how you help people. I misunderstood. I’ve wasted your time.”
Trash was utterly defeated. With this failure, there was no recovery.
“Ahh, well, then. Perhaps, the misunderstanding was not so large as I had feared.”
Trash looked up. That last ember of hope still clinging to life.
“I can provide the funds you need, Mr. Landis, but not under the terms you have offered.”
“What? What do you mean, you want a higher fee?”
“No, Mr. Landis, you don’t understand. But perhaps you will. Agbor, could you refresh the water and bring me another pot of tea? This may take a bit longer.”