Work Text:
If I had another life
I would want to spend it all on some
unstinting happiness…
I wouldn't mind being a rose
in a field of roses.
Fear has not yet occurred to them, nor ambition…
Neither do they ask how long they must be roses, and then what.
Or any other foolish question.
– Mary Oliver
I exist for this store, thought Sigma, and that is perfect. I’ve become a normal cog in society!
He flipped the sign on the door from “Closed” to “Open” and let out a contented sigh.
Everything was as it should be. The week’s up-and-coming books were displayed neatly near the front, biographies were clearly marked as the current sale category, and soft music played from the speakers. The merchandise was tidy, clean, and aesthetically balanced. All he needed to do was return to his station behind the desk and wait for his first client of the day.
He hoped it wouldn’t take long. Some people seemed to crave lulls, little pockets of downtime, rolling around in hours of nothingness if they could—his classmate Dazai had been one such person, he’d found. However, such ennui held no appeal to Sigma at all. If he, an ordinary person, couldn’t benefit the world and the individuals who crossed his path, what the hell was he good for?
Thankfully, the monotony was quickly interrupted, and his role as shopkeeper was reaffirmed.
Ding.
“Hello!” The bright voice belonged to a young man who looked like he’d be better suited to a farmer’s field. Not that Sigma would judge, of course, considering the comments he’d gotten on his own attire. “Nice day out there!”
“Irasshaimase,” greeted Sigma. “How can I help you?”
“I’ll just browse for now, thank you!” Again with the sunny smile. This kid seemed more outgoing than the store’s typical clientele, even if he didn’t need help. He visited a few areas of the store, lingering longer around the poetry and children’s literature before bringing books to the cash.
“Nice choices, kyaku-sama.” Perhaps this was overkill for such a young customer, but it cost nothing to be polite.
“Thanks, Sigma-san! Your selection here is great,” said the customer, a bit shy to give the compliment. “And feel free to call me Kenji, no -sama necessary! It seemed unfair I knew your name,” he gestured at Sigma’s nametag, “and you didn’t have the same courtesy.”
“Hi, Kenji-san,” said Sigma dutifully. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before.”
“Nope, you’re right!” Kenji handed over his finds as they chatted. “I heard about the grand re-opening last month, and I meant to stop by, but work has been ridiculous! The next time I was nearby, I wanted to check it out.”
“You work?” blurted out Sigma. “I mean, apologies for assuming…”
Kenji burst out laughing. “It’s okay, I know that’s pretty surprising at my age! Sometimes I help my family’s farm, and otherwise a detective agency, but I manage to find time for school too.”
Sigma had an awful premonitory feeling. “One of those detectives wouldn’t happen to be Osamu Dazai, would they?”
Kenji’s eyes widened. “Leapin’ lizards. You know him? Ohhhh, maybe that’s why he mentioned this place!”
Sigma nobly resisted the urge to hit his head against the desk. “You could say that. We were partners for a school project… sort of.”
The wince crossing Kenji’s face made Sigma like him even more. “Say no more. The man’s brilliant, but he’s not always ‘team contributor of the year’. Though he steps up when it counts.” He paused with a little grin. “Sometimes, his mind scares me.”
Sigma wasn’t going to ask.
“Hey, with ‘Fuji’ Books—you named your store after the flower, right? Not the mountain?”
“That’s right,” said Sigma, relieved at the change of subject. He accepted Kenji’s bills and counted the change. “Wisterias represent perseverance, youth, and a few other things, so I thought they’d be well-suited.”
“Plus, the flowers match your hair!”
“Well… yes, though that’s not the reason.”
“’Course not.” Did this kid ever stop smiling? “Well, thank you, sir! I’ll try to stop by again when I’m in the area.”
The rest of the day passed in the familiar rhythms of Sigma’s bookstore.
Soon, there was the lunch rush of office workers. You could tell whose eyes had been caught by the display, mid-commute coffee warm in their hands, and who visited with intention and an empty bag. Sigma was glad to see them all.
He took particular pride in knowing the regulars, their tendencies, and their personal likes and dislikes.
“Hello, Murata-sama!” Sigma greeted a pleasant woman he’d seen a few times. “The next book in that series you enjoyed has arrived.”
“Is that right?” Her eyes shone. “I didn’t realize it was here already. Thank you so much!”
It was moments like these that Sigma felt he had found his highest calling. After all, his domain—the bookstore—functioned beautifully, offering enrichment to anyone within its walls.
Unfortunately, the clock eventually hit 8 pm, and there was not enough traffic to justify later hours.
Once the floors were cleared and the inventory was sorted, Sigma was ready to click off the lights. This was the part he didn’t enjoy.
Yes, he knew all the ins and outs of being the ideal, functional bookstore worker. His business course had equipped him well, and Sigma’s work ethic could carry him the rest of the way—he’d studied hard to become familiar with hundreds of books in a short time. However, he did not yet understand the role of being an ordinary person beyond work hours.
Sigma left the store behind with a sigh. Well, keeping up his health was a reasonable start. He would cook something, engage in light exercise, and then do it all again tomorrow.
The next day brought another unusual customer, around mid-morning.
“Irasshaimase!”
The arrival’s frustrated expression cleared. “Uh, hello.” He cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sir, have you seen a tall man covered in bandages?”
“I have not.” Sigma walked over from the cash. “Might you be looking for Osamu Dazai?”
“Exactly so!” The newcomer continued to wrestle his face into a polite expression, and he proffered a handshake. “Nice to meet you. My name’s Doppo Kunikida.”
Sigma blinked, accepting the handshake. “Nice to meet you, Kunikida-sama…?” He also fought to keep his face placid. This was not in the shopkeeper script he’d understood for himself.
Kunikida seemed to finally realize he’d barked a missing persons demand. “Oh, right! Please excuse me.” His shoulders untensed. “Dazai is my work partner, but he hasn’t come in yet. It’s not that unusual, frankly, but I need to drag him back to keep us on track.”
“Oh!” Sigma let out a small chuckle. “Got it. I can’t help, sorry, though I can certainly offer book advice if you’d like.” His mind snagged on a detail. “I don’t suppose you know Kenji-san?”
“I do. He’s one of my coworkers at the Armed Detective Agency.” Kunikida rubbed his neck. His hair was tied back in a low ponytail. “Actually, Kenji-kun’s the one who mentioned this shop. Dazai is apparently out doing ‘research’, so I thought I might as well start here.” He sighed. “I wish I had time to shop, but I must adhere to my schedule.”
“If it’s not too impertinent… is Dazai-san still a detective with you, then? He was a classmate in my bookseller course.”
Kunikida wrinkled his brow. “Hmm? Now there’s a coincidence. I don’t know the details, but our President approved Dazai’s course for… professional development, I suppose. Though he does intend to use it, allegedly, since his partner opened a bookstore near the port.”
“Oh,” Sigma racked his brain. “Wait, would that be ‘The Voice of Life’? The one that has local music and art, on top of their book selection?”
“That’s right! Sigma-san, you’re a well-informed manager.” His eyes wandered the store. “And it is beautifully organized in here; I must commend your ideals.”
Sigma felt warmth creep into his face. “Thanks, though truly it’s nothing.”
“And so modest, too.” Kunikida looked like he was going to weep, which was a staff-customer interaction Sigma did not want to have right now. “It’s like you were born to run a place like this. How long have you wanted to have a bookstore?”
“Well… as long as I can remember!”
“The dedication… it’s beautiful…”
“Sir, your schedule?”
“Quite right!” Kunikida pulled himself together. “It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’ll be sure to drop by the next time I need reading materials.”
“Looking forward to your return.” Back in familiar territory, Sigma ushered him out with the perfect amount of warmth and professionalism.
At this point, Sigma’s “lifelong” dream was only a year old. Did it still count as one’s own dream, when thrust upon a person who had nothing? On that point, Sigma wasn’t sure.
“Sigma-san!”
The little farmer youth was back. Sigma’s smile grew a little wider than it would for other customers. “Hello again! How can I help you today?”
Kenji wandered over and placed his elbows on the desk, but his smile was so pure that Sigma couldn’t possibly dwell on the rudeness. “Well, I mostly had time and wanted to stop in! But I’d love to know if you have any new reading that’s… something hopeful? Maybe sci-fi or fantasy?”
Sigma reached over to the shelf behind him. “You’re in luck. We just received the second in the Monk & Robot series by Becky Chambers, which fits that description.” He held out both novellas for Kenji to look through.
“Oh! I loved the first one,” Kenji beamed. “‘…it is enough to exist in the world and marvel at it. You don’t need to justify that, or earn it. You are allowed to just live.’ That was probably my favourite part!”
Sigma blinked. “Good memory, Kenji-san.”
Kenji thanked him. “What was your favourite series at my age?” He fidgeted with the hat strapped onto his back. “I’m fourteen, by the way.”
Sigma pursed his lips. “…I’m not sure.” He hated to leave a question unanswered.
“Tricky to decide, huh?”
“No, that’s not it.” He leaned back against the desk. “I don’t remember being fourteen. Actually, I don’t recall anything before this year.” Kenji’s eyes widened, his interest enough prompt for Sigma to keep going. “My first memory is waking up in a desert. I wandered for a ges and was just losing hope, and then I encountered a strange man with a bowler hat.”
“Wow. And then what happened?”
“Luck was on my side. The man was extremely kind, almost unbelievably so. He gave me transportation out of the desert—or all the way to Japan, if I wanted—and offered me his bookstore. Apparently, he didn’t need it any longer. Can you imagine?”
Sigma had anticipated skepticism, but Kenji’s face lit up. “That’s amazing! It’s like I keep telling the others—humans are naturally resilient, and everything goes better when we support each other in tough times.”
“…I suppose that’s true! And the man’s offer was legitimate. He sponsored my course, and then I was free to re-design and re-open the store under my name. Or at least, what I’d chosen as my name.”
“‘Sigma’,” said Kenji absently. His smile returned. “I mean, Sigma-san! It’s a nice name.”
“Thank you, Kenji-san.”
“If anyone ever disagrees, or gives you trouble, I’m glad to go chat with them. No one would bother you after that!”
Hah? “I’m sure such a thing won’t be necessary, but thank you.” Privately, he wondered how the youth intended to intimidate anybody, but he kept that to himself.
“Ooh!” Kenji’s grin grew wider. “I just had the best idea of someone to bring here. He’s also really cool, and he has a similar background.”
“Wandering the desert?!”
“Ah, no, hahaha! But he doesn’t remember the first chunk of his life. Maybe you’d have interesting conversations.” Finally, Kenji seemed to realize how familiar he was being, and he grew a little sheepish. “That is, only if you want to! Sorry, I’m wasting so much of your time!” He plopped a couple of books on the counter, next to the one Sigma had suggested. “These ones would be great, please.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble!” said Sigma as he rang him in. “We’re not even busy right now. It makes me glad to talk and help however I can, and you seem like a kind soul.”
Kenji bounced a couple of times on the soles of his feet. “Thank you, sir! Have a nice day!”
And by golly, Sigma did.
In the early hours before customers arrived, Sigma hummed and shelved inventory—until he was frightened out of his wits.
A manic face pressed up against the glass, wide smile doing nothing to offset those unnerving eyes.
“Y-you!”
Brushing himself off, and disregarding the books that had fallen, Sigma stormed over to the entrance. “We’re still closed for another hour, sir, though I suspect you know that… Dazai.”
“Sig-maa!” The tall man stuck a foot in the door, preventing it from closing again. “You remember me!”
Sigma grimaced. “I do. I couldn’t forget your… unique questions in class. And the way you showed up to one team meeting and declared you’d ‘leave it all to me’. Or the time you brought a pack of dogs with you and the instructor had to cancel class.”
“They were following me, all the way from work,” whined Dazai. “But wow, it sounds like you remember me quite well!”
Suddenly, Sigma got a better view of what Dazai was holding. “Were you drawing me?”
“I was!” He chirped. “You looked so happy putting the books in order, I couldn’t interrupt you right away. Of course, it was a little tricky to see in this lighting, but it’s not half-bad, ne?”
The image did look like him, perhaps even a nicer-looking version, but that was beside the point.
“What on earth are you doing here?”
“Couldn’t sleep”—Dazai stretched—“and a birdie told me you’ll get a behatted visitor!”
“Hah?”
“You’ll know him when you see him! He’s a little chihuahua.” Dazai stuck out his arm around chest level. “Point is, don’t listen to anything he might say about me. Lies and slander.”
“Dazai, you’re… um… you’ve got nice qualities, but you’re creating slander just fine by yourself.”
Dazai made a dismissive gesture, brushing off the allegations like falling leaves. “It’s all good—just the principle of the thing! I can’t let the chibi taint your impression of me.” He yawned. “But also, I’d meant to visit, Sigma! From your studious nature, I knew you’d do great, and it looks like you have!”
“Oh. Thank you.” Sigma gave a light bow.
They looked at each other expectantly.
“So... the store doesn’t actually open for another hour.”
“Maybe I’ll go for a quick swim, then. Toodle-oo!”
He didn’t notice right away, but when Sigma returned to unlock the doors, he found a piece of paper pinned with a small magnet. Unfolding it, he found the sketch: Sigma surrounded by books in the early hours, a peaceful calm on his face.
Ding!
The rest of the day passed with its usual routines. Something gnawed on the edge of Sigma’s consciousness, but he couldn’t quite place it. Was it connected to the sketch? Despite himself, he was a little flattered, and he put the paper up on the bulletin board by the cash, next to various flyers advertising community events and the like.
Was it the act of being drawn? Surely not. Sigma wasn’t used to being noticed that closely, but even bizarre attention felt better than he expected. No, he suspected it was the feeling of isolation in the sketch. Drawn-Sigma looked serene in his fortress of books and shelves—which was accurate—but the stark background reminded him that real-life him was alone, too, the moment he wasn’t needed by customers.
Ding! And another one.
Should he go find hobbies? That was a thing normal people did, right? Perhaps he needed to be better-rounded. Not for the first time, he wished he could remember who he was before that desert. He was a grown-ass person—it seemed unfair to still be figuring himself out at this point.
The next afternoon brought the foretold visitor. When someone 5'3" strutted in with exquisite headwear, he had his suspicions.
“Hello.” As they exchanged greetings, the customer was a bizarre mix of brash and sheepishly polite. And his clothes…
Sigma couldn’t help but comment. “I love your outfit, sir. Especially the hat.”
“Ahh! Just call me Chuuya. None of that ‘-sama’ or ‘sir’ stuff.” His cheeks were lightly dusted with pink. “But you’re kind. And I gotta say, your coat, those shoes”—he gestured admiringly—“they bring together your whole look.”
“Thank you.” Sigma was flattered, and he unconsciously gave his coattails a little twirl. “So, how can I help you?”
“I’ll just browse your poetry.” Chuuya nodded towards that section, which was near the desk. “Though, damn, I admit I’ve heard a lot about your shop. Good things.”
“Let me guess: do you also know Osamu Dazai?”
It was as if he gained two inches; Chuuya puffed up like a peacock. “Do I ever! That shitty bastard will be the death of me, if I don’t kill him first. He screwed me over when we were teenagers and knows exactly how to drive me up the wall. He never lines his shoes up neatly by the entrance. And now, he’s getting lazy again and not even making the bed in the mornings! Ridiculous bandage-waster.”
Some of those complaints were… more intimate than Sigma would have expected, from supposed enemies. “So, you learned about Fuji Books from him?”
“No,” Chuuya sighed, “though I heard he came to harangue you. Sorry about him. The mackerel means well, I think. Actually,” he brightened as he spoke, “my buddy Kenji recommended this place!”
Sigma smiled back. “Sweet kid.”
“Definitely.”
Chuuya looked through the books for a few minutes.
“That’s a nice one,” said Sigma, as Chuuya turned over Chen Chen’s When I Grow Up I Want to be a List of Further Possibilities in his hands.
Chuuya smiled. “I was considering getting my own copy,” he said. Glancing over and sensing he had a receptive audience, he recited a line. “‘What is it, to remember nothing, of what one loved? / To have forgotten the faces one first kissed?’”
“That’s right,” said Sigma, vaguely impressed. “Nice. I notice you picked one of the heavier poems,” he added.
“Yeah.” Chuuya shifted from foot to foot. “Oi, this is fuckin’ awkward, so I can drop it, but…” He pursed his lips. “Is it true, what Kenji said? You can’t remember your childhood either?”
“Oh, you’re that friend!” Sigma walked closer, joining him in the poetry aisle. “It’s true. Actually, it’s an even longer lacuna. A year ago, I woke up like this: stylishly dressed in the middle of nowhere. I basically had nothing and no-one, let alone a proper identity.”
They exchanged a heavy look.
“Does it get easier?” Sigma turned away, towards the shop entrance and its bank of windows. “Not knowing where you came from, or who you are?”
Chuuya paused, speaking with more gravity. “Yes and no.” He looked towards the windows as well. “Even when you don’t have yesterday, you can choose who you are today, and tomorrow. And what you prioritize, what you choose… that is the self you end up with, who everyone sees. No one else stays as their youngest self either.” He traced the spine of the book in his hands. “’Course, most people at least know who that self is. You and I, waking up with certain skills, certain languages,” he glanced over, “presumably certain traumas… it’s like we’ve been dropped into a mystery novel, but we’re missing the first chapters—yet the world says ‘tough luck’, and we push toward the ending regardless.”
“Do you write, Chuuya?”
He cleared his throat. “I’ve worked on poetry, though it’s not published yet.” He snuck another look over, this time catching Sigma’s eye. “Do you want to… hear a verse? Or, fuck it, I don’t care.” For a man who carried himself so powerfully—Sigma did not want to get on his bad side—Chuuya got flustered surprisingly easily. Sigma found it endearing.
“That would be a treat.”
“Manage your expectations,” said Chuuya, and then he began:
“‘Deeply autumnal, today
is like stony echoes.
I don’t even have memories:
so much less should there be dreams.’”
He cleared his throat. “Anyway. That one seemed relevant.”
Sigma snapped his fingers. “I like it! The sound, the imagery… it resonates with me.”
“Thank you, Sigma-san.”
As they wrapped up their conversation, Chuuya brought over his books and Sigma returned to help him check out.
“By the way. If anyone ever threatens you, or makes you uncomfortable in any way… I’m around.” His arms were crossed. “I’ll make sure it’s handled.”
“People keep saying that to me!” Sigma chuckled awkwardly. “Thank you, Chuuya-san.” He handed him the purchases. “What did you say your profession was, again?”
Chuuya bared his teeth into a much more confident grin. “I didn’t. Maybe another time.” Fair. “But, hey, you don’t have to be a stranger. Hit me up sometime to grab wine, or whiskey, or…”
“Martinis?”
“Sure, why not.” Chuuya slid a sleek The Voice of Life business card onto his desk. Apparently, he was the owner. Huh.
Sigma waved goodbye to this latest customer.
As a bookstore owner, Sigma knew he’d gladly welcome all kinds of people into his store. Apparently, that included the kind of person who’d bring in, say, at least three different weapons—as Sigma had noticed peeking out from Chuuya’s suit. Ought he create a weapons policy? Come to think of it, pretty much everyone he’d met from the complex web of Dazai’s acquaintance seemed to have, if not the intent, the ability to carry themselves in a fight.
What kind of network had he been drawn into?
Then again, thought Sigma, at least they seem to be on my side?
He decided to take a less efficient route home, wandering through the park.
The next week attracted a newcomer with killing intent, as far as Sigma could tell.
“Hello.” The new arrival appeared in front of his desk, an angry shadow. His long black coat seemed strange for the season, but Sigma was much less inclined to comment on this stranger’s attire.
“Irasshaimase!” Sigma greeted him, keeping his voice level and polite.
“I need,” growled the man, “a book.”
“You’ve come to the right place! May I ask what genre?”
“Oh, wow! Is- is that from Dazai-san?” Attention caught by the bulletin board, the visitor’s demeanour changed almost immediately. His eyes shone like a baby bat. “I would recognize his art style anywhere!”
Caught off guard, Sigma smiled awkwardly. “He, uh, decided to draw me. So many of my recent customers seem to know that man somehow.”
“He was my mentor.” The customer’s face took on a longing quality. “Oh, this must be the bookstore he talks about! Apart from Chuuya-san’s, of course.” He gave a deep bow. “I should have greeted you properly, esteemed classmate of Dazai-san. It is I, Akutagawa.”
“Hello, Akutagawa-sama.” Sigma bowed back. “Really, this level of respect is… kind, but not necessary. I am here to help you.”
After another light bow, Akutagawa toned it down to a “polite customer” mask. “Very well. Do you have any books well-suited for a goody-two-shoes who’s desperately annoying, with a strong affinity for wildcats?”
Sigma’s eyebrows rose. “Do you know what they like to read?”
Akutagawa wrinkled his forehead, seeming to have no eyebrows whatsoever. “The damn were-tiger won’t show me; I think he’s shy. Maybe something like legends or folk tales?”
“Hmm.” Sigma ran a hand through his hair. “I wonder about The Moon Over the Mountain: Stories? One of the short stories involves a tiger.” He walked over to the necessary section.
Akutagawa gave a little gasp as he took the book. “That sounds just like him.” Together, they walked over to the cash to check out. “Much obliged.”
He paused at the door. “The next time you see Dazai-san,” he started, then trailed off for a moment. “Please tell him I was an adequate customer?”
I don’t think he’d care, thought Sigma, though he was wise enough not to say this. “I can do that, Akutagawa-sama.”
“Thank you! Goodbye!”
Through word of mouth, Sigma’s business continued to grow.
Curious strangers wandered in, of course, but a disproportionate number were somehow connected—from the butterfly-adorned doctor commending his Pride Month display (he’d worked hard on it), to the Sherlock Holmes lookalike who spoke far too shrewdly, to the scarf-clad free spirit who left with a stack of lemon-themed history, cooking, and fiction books.
How the hell did everyone know Dazai?
Even the cat who’d taken to napping in his shop seemed to make himself scarce just before one of the ADA or Port Mafia members arrived. Sigma was not the conspiracist type, to his knowledge, but all these coincidences was getting ridiculous.
A month after the early-morning debacle, the man himself showed up—during business hours, no less.
Dazai’s book choices were ominous, to say the least, but Sigma was duty-bound to help any customer… even those with unusual tastes.
“Say…” Sigma bit his lip. “A lot of my recent customers seem to know you.”
“Is that so?” Dazai practically sparkled at him. “What a lovely fluke. My network is wide, you see.”
Sigma braced himself. “I have to ask… are you using me? To drive away business from The Voice of Life, or something?”
Dazai’s eyes softened with—god, that’d better not be pity. “No, Sigma-san.” He clasped the shopkeeper’s hands between his own. “You’re useful, yes, but I don’t want to use you. I’ve seen it all before, and you don’t deserve that treatment.”
He let go and leaned back, stretching like he had no care in the world. “I like you, Sigma-san, and I think you have a shot at this. If I happen to name-drop an upstanding local business—well, your shop’s quality speaks for itself.”
Sigma blinked, taking a moment to reboot. “Thank you, Dazai-san.”
“Also, I got tired of hearing people complain about me,” he trilled, “so I thought I should point them to a new venue!”
“You wanted them to bring me their Dazai gripes?”
“Chuuya’s bartender’s getting tired,” Dazai mused, “and I hear anything that’s in the ADA office, y’know? Folks can give me feedback directly; that’s all right—but sometimes, you gotta vent freely about the good-for-nothings in your life. Right? Everyone wins!”
“So, you assumed I’d become an on-call therapist for anyone you’ve wronged?”
“Oh, Sigma-san! You wound me!” Dazai clutched a hand to his chest. “No, no, nothing like that. You don’t need to do anything. You just give off a trustworthy aura. If you didn’t want to chat, they’d oblige. Honest.”
“Hmm.” Bemused, Sigma shook his head and started scanning the books, until chaos in his peripheral vision made him pause.
Dazai had stepped back and held out his arms in a ballroom stance, as if he were dancing with a ghost. “Did you know? The ambiance in here is like a dance hall. Fufufu!” He started to sway and twirl, disregarding the handful of customers in the farther corners. Only his playful, almost self-deprecating expression assured Sigma that his ex-teammate hadn’t lost his marbles entirely.
“Si-iigma-san!” He dipped the ghost, still with that strange grin. “In another life, I would have dragged you through hell. But!” His waltz came to an abrupt stop, and he relaxed back to neutral. “You’re a good person. And you’re more special than you think… but you should do whatever brings you the most contentment in living.”
“Is that what you do?”
Dazai shooed the question away with his hand. “We’re talking about you. You can reverse it, if you insist, but you can’t prevent it, Sigma—my friends and enemies have adopted you!” He smacked both hands onto the desk, leaning closer with a feral smile. “No one can ever threaten your bookstore again, at least physically. Though its ‘ordinariness’ may have taken a hit.” With a light chuckle, he leaned back again, relaxed as any normal customer who hadn’t made a spectacle of himself.
The words reverberated through Sigma for the rest of his shift.
A few months passed. As always, Sigma’s morning began with fresh-brewed coffee and the symphony of the store. Bit by bit, Fuji Books awakened from slumber and settled into the morning rush.
With the business thriving, he eventually needed help, and his tangled web of customers led him to Lucy. She had work ethic and charisma to spare, and storing books in her Ability space allowed them to stock more inventory at a time. Sigma had learned about Abilities, of course, but the variety out there still amazed him.
The shop had recently started community evenings, where people could come up to share poems, short stories, or songs. The venue was intimate, given that they didn’t have an actual stage, and folks would sit on blankets on the ground. Lucy especially thrived in this setting, appointing herself “Lady Cordelia” the lively emcee. Sometimes, she gotten into character with a pirate costume, or carried around a bouquet of flowers with her onstage—whatever caught her imagination.
This afternoon, Lucy had disappeared to get a few snacks for the night’s gathering. Sigma kept things running smoothly, he had so many times before, enjoying the contentment that comes from being exactly where you want to be.
Just when the store would typically have a lull, Kenji walked in—and then so did Chuuya, Akutagawa, Yosano, Lucy, Kunikida, and a handful of other ADA and PM folks Sigma had seen occasionally. Everyone looked peaceful enough, but what?
“Irasshaimase,” Sigma squeaked. He cleared his throat. “How can I help all you fine folks?”
“Happy anniversary!” The crowd spoke as one, and claps scattered around him like long-awaited rain in a desert.
Lucy stepped forward. “I know we’ve got the official store celebration next week, but… we wanted to do something for your store’s six months, Sigma-san.”
Kenji pulled out a large banner made of thick white paper. He flipped it around, and it was beautiful. Realistic drawings of hyacinths and books lined the edges, with doodles and notes of gratitude scrawled throughout. In the centre was a large message that resembled the store sign’s lettering: “Congratulations, Fuji Books!” Someone had obviously cared about the aesthetic, since each of the elements were well-balanced, with no corner or area overwhelmed.
“Wow! That’s all handmade?” Sigma blinked, warmth pricking his eyes.
Kenji nodded. “We wanted to do something nice for you. You’re helpful and kind, and you’ve really put effort into making this a great community space. You deserve nice things.”
As Sigma attempted a thank you, Dazai popped out of the ceiling vent. “Surprise!” He pulled out a few handfuls of helium balloons, which scattered themselves across the ceiling, and then flung himself the rest of the way out of the vent. Rolling his eyes, Chuuya rushed forward and caught him in a princess hold. He then helped Dazai get his feet back on the ground, with more force than strictly necessary.
Sigma blinked a few times, thoughts whirring between “wow, so many people”, “they would do that for me?”, “balloons!”, “the strings keep them manageable” and “somehow no injuries—it’s like he wants to scare me half to death!” He felt like there was smoke coming out of his ears.
The banner was then affixed with high-quality sticky tack—they must have had the dimensions of the wall in mind, because it looked great.
Kunikida walked back over and clapped a hand onto Sigma’s shoulder. “Are you all right, Sigma-san?”
Sigma shook himself out of his reverie. “Y- yes. Thanks.” He looked around at this crowd of people, who appreciated him and his life’s work, not just enough to spend money or say hello, but to gather intentionally and make him such a gift. “Thank you all! I don’t have any kind of speech prepared, but it’s people like yourselves who make Yokohama—and this store—feel like a home. I hope you know you are always welcome here in my store.” He looked pointedly at Dazai. “At least, during our opening hours.”
That got a few chuckles.
Lucy piped up. “I got snacks, if anyone wants!” She set up cookies and a veggie tray on an empty table, and the crowd dispersed somewhat to chat with each other. Sigma got the vibe that many of them would wander over to say hi, once they were sure they weren’t overwhelming him.
He didn’t have to wait long before one of his earliest, sunniest customers approached.
“Sigma-san! I learned something about you from—well, it doesn’t matter right now. Do you trust me?” Kenji held out a hand.
“Sure.” Sigma accepted the handshake, but Kenji paused midway and looked at him intensely.
“Do you know what I want most, right now?”
Though jarred by the sudden question, Sigma’s mind couldn’t help but process it, and suddenly, yes, he did know. A vision flashed across his senses: an image of himself, smiling and at ease. Sigma in the bookstore—or no, now in an unfamiliar place, and another. In each scene, he was surrounded by the people he’d met recently, and a few others besides.
“You want me to be happy. To feel comfortable and part of a community.” No one has ever wished for such a thing for him before, at least that he could remember.
Kenji showed off rows of white teeth. “Ha! Yes, very true.” His smile settled into something more pensive, and he dropped the handshake. “Many of us want that for you. No pressure! I know this bookstore is a home, and no one’s saying otherwise—but lately, we do have some part-time ADA members. If you’re interested in consulting, or learning more about Abilities, or simply saying hi: the door is always open at the Armed Detective Agency.”
Sigma was taken aback. “Thank you, Kenji-san.”
“Oh, hello, Natsume-sama!”
It was the cat who liked to nap here in the afternoons.
“Hah?”
The cat transformed into a stranger that Sigma hadn’t expected to see again. “Forgive the intrusion! I wanted to also offer my congratulations on what you’ve done with this place.” He curled his mustache. “Ah, yes, did I not mention I am a cat?”
“…You did not.”
“In any case, I echo Kenji-kun’s offer—the ADA would be happy to help you unpack your gifts, and maybe even your past.”
“But… I’m just an ordinary man!”
“I think you’ll find you are more extraordinary than you think. But it is up to you.” He held out a hand, which Sigma shook. “The Agency has a generous book allowance, so I’m sure you’ll keep seeing us around as customers.”
It was all a lot to take in.
Sigma enjoyed the rest of the gathering, and after the day was finished, his final tidy was more meditative than usual.
This was his life, the one he’d created.
And it was good.