Wayside - 1920s Japan Dramedy

"I figured you would prefer sake rather than tea." Mister Takahara slowly poured the clear liquid into two small cups.

"You know me too well, Tatsuo." Kazuma grinned as he eyed his beverage of choice from across the table, unable to go one more minute without savoring the flavor that had been foreign to him for three years.

Although arriving back to Japan three days prior, Kazuma patiently waited for his reunion with his boss to enjoy one of the few activities in which they found common ground.

"Cheers." Mister Takahara mumbled as he handed Kazuma his glass.

For Kazuma, it had certainly been worth the wait - of course, whisky and beer were able to do it for him while he was an ocean away, but nothing was comparable to clanking sake glasses with his mentor and savoring a flavor unique to home.

"You're right." Mister Takahara crossed his arms. "I do know you too well, so part of me is weary to ask about your report."

"Report?" Kazuma scoffed, downing his glass in two gulps. "Come on, we don't need to do that tonight, our associates aren't even here to listen to all of my shameful exploits!"

Mister Takahara remained silent, crossed arms unmoving and a sour expression still present on his face.

"A joke, Tatsuo." The younger man explained. "Don't tell me you lost your sense of humor!"

"I don't want to hear jokes, Kazuma."

Kazuma froze as his superior drummed a hand against the table.

"The hundreds of thousands of yen I spent to have you over there for years is worth much more than jokes."

Kazuma quipped his mouth closed as soon as he realized Mister Takahara meant business, the personal kind. After a few passing seconds, whether it was pure organic courage or the hearty alcohol flowing through his veins, he wasn’t sure, but something within Kazuma encouraged him to once again test his boss’s temper. “I know you were expecting a detailed report once I was to return, Tatsuo, I assure you I haven’t forgotten.” He smiled as a thin finger traced across the rim of his glass, heartbeat calming from a sporadic jump to a hum.

“I simply was of the mindset that you would appreciate some light conversation rather than diving headfirst into the grime and corruption I was so graciously exposed to in the name of ‘career development.’”

Mister Takahara lowered his head. “Well well.” He huffed, failing to hide the smirk creeping across his cheeks while his forehead grew hot. “So I take it you were under their guidance for longer than I had expected.”

Two fingers fishing in Kazuma’s suit jacket eventually plopped a bundle of paper onto the table. “The Martillos send their regards.” Kazuma laughed. “Of course, my days were spent at Milton's office, but I did learn quite a bit from your Martillo friends regarding the turbulent state of America’s finances. Their own business model is far from what I would consider ‘ethical,’ but nevertheless, quite an interesting case study.”

“No-” Mister Takahara’s brows twitched as his eyes fervently scanned the bundle of records. “I should have known this trip was no good.” His hands cupped his face while confusion and regret swirled in his gut.

“‘No good!?’” Kazuma exclaimed, grabbing back a sheet for himself to reference. “Whiskey sales going up up up by the week, rum by the day.” His hand slapped the paper. “It was incredible to witness! If you were there for yourself you’d understand better.”

“Mister Fosters was right, my god.” Mister Takahara sighed, shaking his head still cradled in his hands. “How on earth did such a respectable family fall to such…such lows? From banking to illegal smuggling? And you were a part of it?”

“Oh! No no no.” Kazuma waved his hands in front of his face. “Tatsuo, I know my limits. Observing was more than enough for me. I simply heard stories from the brother and sister…and occasionally witnessed some interesting exchanges.” Another smirk crept up Kazuma’s face as he relished in his superior’s muttering and headshaking. “Witnessed, Tatsuo, not participated. And since when do you take advice from the walking corpse Mister Fosters?”

“I’m not entertaining semantics.” Tatsuo spat back, one shaky hand combing through his graying hair. “And Fosters for your information has done wonders with Mieko’s English, much more than that red-haired woman-”

“Mrs. O’Halloran.” Kazuma corrected.

“She never made a notable impression.” Mister Takahara whipped his head to the side, reaching for the bottle of sake while his protege leaned his body forward for answers.

“You fired her? For Fosters?” Kazuma exclaimed. “She was perfect for Mieko, they were so alike they were practically sisters separated at birth. Now you’re having the Canadian fun police tutoring your daughter in her favorite subject!?”

“I’m not turning the evening into a fight about Mrs. O’Kallorhass.”

“O’Halloran.”

“Whatever, I fired her.” Tatsuo silently poured himself another glass of sake, eyes momentarily flickering up to meet Kazuma’s bewildered face. “Tell me about your time with the Miltons. Surely what you studied there will salvage what little remains of your professional reputation.”

“Ahaha-” Kazuma swiped the bottle from Tatsuo’s hands, pouring himself another glass and swigging it down in one gulp before rising from his seat. “Always the joker, Tatsuo! Please, excuse me for a moment for the washroom.” Grin forever plastered across the tired muscles of his face, Kazuma bowed and made a beeline for the door.

“Hmph, washroom.” Tatsuo noted the rectangular outline protruding from his partner’s suit pocket.

“Old habits die hard, I see.”