Chapter Text
Isagi Yoichi needed this job. Mostly. Sure, his parents were paying his tuition, but they weren’t made of money. Also, having his own paycheck would let him buy groceries or movies on his own. Plus, he needed to save up for an apartment in the future. Isagi was only nineteen, but time stopped for no one. One day, he would be thirty-six, and if he didn’t have his own apartment by then, he’d die.
BLUE LOCK 11 was a decently popular superstore with locations all over Japan and some in other parts of Asia and Europe. Isagi had stayed very local when choosing his college, deciding that it’d amake more sense to live in Saitama until he found out what he truly wanted in life. He wasn’t exceptional in anything, nor did he have much interest in clubs or hobbies, save for soccer, but he was not at scholarship level. So, Isagi remained in his hometown. It worked out—his family was close by, and he didn’t have to pay a crazy train or plane fare to visit them.
The neutral muzak in the background couldn’t be described as anything other than loud. Isagi was used to it, though. Despite it being his first day as an employee, he came by often. Like, way too often. Isagi practically bought everything he needed from the superstore. Though, Isagi hadn’t really given much attention to the staff. He didn’t need to, Isagi never asked for help since he knew where everything was. Some would also call him stubborn, but that was hardly the point.
A pair of frighteningly golden eyes were the first thing to greet him. If anyone asked Isagi about it, he’d tell them that they were glowing.
Back on topic, those eyes were attached to an incredibly boyish face, roughly Isagi’s age. The boy was grinning, all of his pearly whites on display. Maybe too wide of a smile.
“Hey! You’re new, right?” He asked, in a voice way too bright for that early in the morning.
Isagi blinked multiple times in a row, taking a moment to process the guy’s words. He was quick to adapt, though, and soon replied.
“Yeah! It’s my first day…” Isagi replied, slightly hesitant. He knew the guy was an employee—obviously. Not only was the guy wearing a name tag, read as ‘Bachira’, he was at the store before opening.
Actually, quite a few people were around, Isagi realized upon taking in his surroundings. A tall guy with hair nearly half his height, along with a short guy who had a braid on the side of his hair. There were others with just as unique appearances, but Isagi was too preoccupied to pay much attention to anyone not in his general vicinity.
“I can tell!” Bachira continued to smile, Isagi quickly figured out that Bachira was just that kind of guy. “I’ve worked here a while.” He added with a slight tilt of his head, looking oddly proud of that.
Isagi gave a short nod. He definitely recognized Bachira. Isagi visited the store often enough. It made sense that he would recognize someone who worked there for ‘a while’. He hadn’t bothered to pay attention to names, though.
“So… Where can I get my name tag? Or will there be a wait? I’m totally fine with waiting.” Isagi wondered, trying to make a somewhat decent first impression. He couldn’t start off as an asocial prick.
Bachira’s only reply was humming like a buzzing bee before grabbing Isagi by the arm and dragging him off into the employee break room. This guy was seriously way too energetic for seven in the morning on a Monday. It was almost offensive, actually. Isagi was slightly jealous of his zest for life.
At least Bachira’s work experience showed. He led Isagi on a quick tour before showing him the ropes. For some reason none of the managers cared enough to do it themselves, deigning Bachira most appropriate for Isagi’s training. He’d start off somewhere easy, Bachira had said. Which, according to Bachira, was working with him in the fitting rooms. The only reason Isagi wasn’t abandoned, alone, and left to fend for himself was because it was his first day. Bachira, with all his experience, was the most trust-worthy. Supposedly.
While the two were folding returned items, Bachira was running Isagi over anything he needed to know. Mostly gossip, to be completely honest, but it was useful. At least Isagi had gained a decent grip on his coworker’s personalities, beliefs, and opinions. Now, Isagi was aware not to interact with the tall guy who had the turquoise hair.
“And the really pretty guy with pinkish hair, his name is Chigiri, is one hundred percent a guy. Last person to mistake him for a girl was Otoya—Otoya’s the guy with the green streak, by the way—Chigiri kicked him in the nuts once they clocked off! So, don’t say anything about Chigiri’s gender.” He rambled, a polo neatly folded on the cart rocking in front of them.
Isagi gave curt nods in response, not saying much. There was nothing to he could add to the conversation, after all. Isagi didn’t know any of those people. Not by face, not really. He saw a few walking by.
The Otoya guy talked a lot, both to his coworkers and most of the female customers. Isagi could admire perseverance, but wasn’t it just weird at some point? If Isagi wasn’t just hired, he’d begin to question the manager's sanity. But you couldn't begin something you had already started—Isagi had begun to question the sanity of the manager the moment he met with the creepy guy for his interview.
“Got it.” He replied mindlessly. The buttons on the dress shirt Isagi had to fix were far too small and glossy. It was torturous to button it up successfully.
“So, the assistant manager, Rin, is a really sour guy. But he’s also super easy to annoy. It’s not that fun to piss him off, though, ‘cause he’s the schedule maker and can, like, give you overtime or really shitty hours. The floor manager, Tokimitsu, is a really nervous guy. Like, if you stare for too long he’ll start trembling. So… don’t. It’s not fun to bug him ’cause he’s really anxious so you just feel bad after…” It took everything in Isagi’s power for Bachira’s words to not become mush in his mind. He was genuinely focused on the buttons on the shirt. Why were there so many? And did it smell like farts? Who farted in fitting rooms? Isagi had never used them, and he was beginning to feel incredibly grateful for that.
Isagi was broken out of his trance by a customer shoving an entire rack’s worth of clothes into his arms. His mouth momentarily opened like a gaping fish, watching the lady walk off in confusion. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Bachira with his eyes squinted.
“Why on Earth…?” Isagi trailed off, partially certain that his eyes were playing tricks on him. This was his first job, and he had no experience with crappy customers. Sure, he’d seen the same compilations as everyone else, but he’d assumed most of it was few dictates to some extent.
Bachira’s grin gained an awkward tilt as he slid one some of Isagi’s pile over to himself.
“Some people are sort of senseless this early. But! There’s way less of them, so… it’s not that bad. Sunday afternoons are way, way worse.” He consoled, patting Isagi’s shoulder. Isagi got the feeling that Bachira was a touchy kind of guy. He had that look to him.
At least it’d be over soon.
By the time of Isagi’s first break, he swore that he had a cramp in every muscle of his hands. Who needed to be trying on clothes that early in the morning? Isagi was slumped. Maybe this job was a mistake. People were awful. And they smelled like shit. Seriously, Isagi needed to ask that Ego guy about air fresheners.
His head rested on the round table in the break room, eyes closed. He would make the most of his fifteen-minute break with a well-deserved nap.
At least, it would have been a nap until seaweed hair sat across from Isagi, banging the table with his coffee mug and startling Isagi awake. He quickly sat up to attention, taking a moment to collect his bearings before glaring at the guy. Rin. A prick, according to Bachira.
“Your break ends in four minutes. Don’t slack off when you go back on the floor.” Rin ordered, harshly. If Isagi’s hands weren’t cramping so badly, he would’ve tried strangling the guy. Four minutes left—Isagi wanted to sleep!
He rolled his eyes. Isagi would have to find a way to make the guy leave him alone. Or, at the very least, annoy him less. Isagi did not have enough energy, and certainly not enough after the morning he had.
“Yeah, I will.” Isagi murmured, head resting on the table again. He didn’t want to get on the assistant manager’s bad side on his first morning. Rin harrumphed and moved to sit on one of the chairs furthest from Isagi.
The literal second his break ended, Rin stood before him once again and very harshly ordered him to shadow and help out the Otoya guy with restocking produce. Never in his life had he met a more exhausting person, and that was saying something. Unfortunately, it seemed like this store was filled to the brim of exhausting people.
Isagi would learn to adapt, he had to, for he was nothing if not a talented learner.