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502 – If You’re Going to Bribe Me, At Least Make It Spectacular
🕑 Added 2025-09-07 15:00:13 +0000 UTC“Here—take it!”
With a sharp flick, a banknote unfolded, releasing that unmistakable, beautiful rustle of money. The delicate face of Higuchi Ichiyō stared back from the bill.
Kyousuke blinked, still too dazed to grasp what was happening, when the man in front of him shoved the 5,000-yen note into his hand without so much as a second thought.
“Huh? Eh?”
He instinctively clenched his fist.
The texture of the paper felt almost sacred—like he was shaking hands with the shining pearl of modern Japanese literature herself, Higuchi Ichiyō.
Behind him, Nishimiya Shouko wore the same confused look.
But unlike Kyousuke, her first thought was of something more practical—cameras.
She quickly darted her eyes around, scanning the area.
Is this a prank show? This was Shinjuku, after all.
Here, it was more common to see a man with five cameras strapped to his face than without.
Between livestreamers, street pranksters, and variety TV crews, nothing was impossible.
And Shouko couldn’t deny she’d already been on TV back when she was still an ordinary girl.
‘Ahem… though it was only some tiny local program in Suimon City that nobody watched.’
Kyousuke, however, wasn’t looking for cameras.
If there really were any, his sharp senses would have picked them up already.
“Excuse me…” he finally asked, puzzled.
“One crepe isn’t enough! Go buy five more!”
The man snapped at him fiercely.
“Eh?” Shouko blinked in confusion.
“Unbelievable. Kids these days just don’t cut it anymore.”
Matsuya shook his head dramatically.
“Listen, kid. If you’ve decided to be with a girl, then give her everything you’ve got! No money? Go work! No house? Work harder! And if you can’t even manage a part-time job, then you’ve got no business dating at all!”
“….”
If it weren’t for the fact that the guy’s breath wasn’t reeking of alcohol, Kyousuke would’ve assumed he was just another drunk.
Even the “Showa men” he knew weren’t this fond of lecturing.
Well… except maybe old man Yagi back home.
“A real man doesn’t share one measly crepe with his girl! Get a job already!”
With that final bark, Matsuya stomped off, still muttering under his breath—something about how “Japan is doomed” and “unbearable kids these days.”
And just like that, his mood lifted.
The thirty-something man’s heart, shattered moments ago, suddenly felt whole again.
‘See that, youngsters? High school love is fragile.’
‘There’s no such thing as purity or beauty in it.’
‘Crepes taste best when eaten alone, in big bites!’
Matsuya’s newfound cheer even dulled his long-held hatred for crepes.
Since his budget for drinks at the izakaya was gone anyway, maybe he’d just swap sake for a crepe tonight.
Yes—that Higuchi Ichiyō bill was all the indulgence he could afford tonight.
He couldn’t even explain why he’d just done what he did.
Was it to show that enviable young couple how cruel reality was?
Or was it to finally take revenge for that “crepe incident” back in high school?
‘Bold move, Matsuya…’
His heart thumped wildly.
That boy looked young, sure, but he was tall—muscles straining against his white shirt, chest broad like a wall.
Which made Matsuya walk even faster.
Half because he was embarrassed, half because he was genuinely afraid of getting beaten up.
Meanwhile, Kyousuke just stood there, staring blankly at the bill in his hand.
‘Did I just meet some kind of part-time job saint?’
“Pff—ahaha~~!”
Shouko couldn’t hold it in anymore.
Seeing Kyousuke’s dumbfounded face, her cheeks flushed pink and she burst into soft giggles.
“So… what do we do? Should we buy another crepe, Kyousuke-kun?” she asked quietly.
“We could. Maybe grab a few more to take home for a late-night snack… but crepes this sugary aren’t exactly healthy before bed.”
“Then…?”
Her eyes darted meaningfully to the Higuchi Ichiyō note still in his hand.
“This,” Kyousuke said with a small smile, “is that uncle’s blessing for us.”
It was as though he’d read her mind.
“Wait here for me a bit.” He handed her both the crepe and the banknote.
“Mm~”
Shouko accepted them with a smile, watching as Kyousuke disappeared into the crowd after the strange man.
Only once he was gone did she lower her gaze to the bill in her hand.
‘How surreal…’
She had just confessed her feelings to Kyousuke, and now this bizarre thing happened.
It made no sense at all, and yet it felt oddly like a blessing.
In myths, don’t gods always do things like this? Hide blessings in harsh words, force mortals through trials before granting happiness?
And in a country as strange as theirs, it only made sense that the gods were strange too—appearing at random, acting like lunatics, swearing under their breath as they tossed out blessings.
But the banknote was very real.
That man had genuinely wished for their happiness, even if his way of expressing it was… eccentric.
She placed her shopping bag at her feet and spread the bill out carefully, smiling brighter the longer she looked.
‘Will Kyousuke-kun actually catch up to him? Or will that man vanish into the crowd like some phantom?’
Should she even spend this money? Shouko frowned a little, unsure.
————————————————————————
Meanwhile, Matsuya slowed his pace as the familiar sight of his favorite izakaya came into view. Yes, he’d go in after all.
He was single, after all—no wife to scold him.
His thoughts drifted. He could already imagine bragging to the hostess about what he’d just done.
In his experience, women loved hearing about wild, impulsive acts. Rebellious charm and all that.
But then—his shoulder grew heavy.
A voice, both strange and oddly familiar, sounded right behind him.
“Heeey—”
Matsuya’s face went pale as he turned.
“H-heeey…”
Of course—it was that boy.
Standing close, far too close, so he could finally see just how broad and solid the kid’s frame was.
‘Is this it? He’s mad. I’m about to get punched.’
‘Damn kids, no patience at all! Someone call the cops—save me!’
Matsuya forced out a weak smile, voice trembling.
“Uh, actually, I…”
“Sir, thank you for treating us to crepes.” Kyousuke said, smiling warmly.
“Eh?” Not here to hit me?
Matsuya froze.
‘So kids these days… do know manners after all.’
Relieved, he almost let out a cocky reply, but something about the boy’s face stopped him.
‘Why did he look familiar?’
Instead, he bowed his head quickly.
“Sorry… for saying all those strange things.”
“Haha, no, no. Both my girlfriend and I were really happy. She even sent me here just to thank you.”
Kyousuke laughed, shaking his head, voice sincere.
Then he reached for his wallet.
The worn leather of the boy’s wallet was obvious at a glance.
‘Figures,’ Matsuya thought.
‘This kid must be strapped for cash.’
‘On a date, most guys at least try to dress up a little. He just showed up in his school uniform.’
But the moment the wallet flipped open, Matsuya nearly popped his eyeballs out.
‘What the hell?! Why’s a kid carrying that much cash around?’
Inside, neatly stacked, was a thick wad of bills.
The small notes in front didn’t matter.
What made his jaw drop was what came after—at least twenty crisp Fukuzawa Yukichi portraits staring up at him.
Even in the dim light, there was no mistaking the face of the man everyone in Japan recognized.
And when the boy casually pulled one out, Matsuya’s breath caught.
They really were all 10,000-yen bills.
‘Wait—he’s not about to slap me in the face with money, is he?’
His heart quivered, a mix of dread and… a shameful little flicker of excitement.
‘If you’re gonna do it, at least throw a couple more, kid.’
“Part-time jobs are tough. Please, have a couple of drinks on me.”
Kyousuke snapped the wallet shut and held out the bill with both hands.
“A-ah, yes!”
Matsuya scrambled to bow and accept it, clumsy but sincere.
“See you around, then.” Kyousuke smiled and turned to leave.
“Yes! Wishing you a pleasant evening!”
Matsuya bent into a perfect ninety-degree bow—more respectful than anything he’d ever given his company president.
‘If I could bow this properly at work, I’d be promoted in no time!’
Straightening back up, he realized that was probably the best bow of his life.
‘Weird. Why was I so respectful to that kid?’
He watched the tall figure melt back into the crowd, then looked down at the bill in his hand.
‘Is this the power of money? No, no, I’m not the type to bow for cash… am I?’
He shook his head and pushed into the warm light of the izakaya.
Familiar greetings met him; he was a regular here, and so were most of the patrons.
Sliding into his usual spot at the counter, he wiped his face and hands with the hot towel the proprietress offered, then laid the crisp banknote on the counter.
Staring at Fukuzawa Yukichi’s portrait, he drifted off into thought.
“What’s this, Matsuya-san? Did you find some money?” a man nearby teased.
The comment caught the others’ attention immediately.
If someone found cash, etiquette demanded they buy a round.
“Well… you could say that.” Matsuya muttered, still puzzling over why that boy had radiated such authority.
“No way, seriously?”
The room buzzed. In their dull lives, hearing about someone else’s stroke of luck was excitement enough.
It wasn’t really about “luck” itself—it was the happiness of thinking something good can happen, even in my life.
“Did something good happen?”
“No… but maybe it will someday.”
That simple kind of happiness.
Even the usually busy proprietress paused her work, leaning over the counter to peek at the banknote.
“Wow. So you really found yourself a Fukuzawa Yukichi, huh?” she said with a teasing smile.
The glimpse of cleavage spilling from her neckline blanked Matsuya’s brain completely.
All the excuses he’d been ready to make vanished, and instead.
He blurted out everything—the thoughts racing through his head at the subway, what he’d said, what he’d done.
“…And then that boy caught up to me outside the izakaya, said, ‘Part-time jobs are tough, please have a drink,’ and handed me this.”
He smacked his lips, still bewildered.
The kid’s actions were somehow even more ridiculous than his own.
“No way. You, Matsuya-san, doing something like that?”
The regulars snorted. They knew him well.
He was the type who admired the proprietress’s figure only from the corner of his eye, never daring to say anything.
Pulling something so outrageous? Out of character.
“I swear it’s true!” Matsuya shouted.
“I’ll vouch for him. It must be true—’cause I’ve never seen a single 10,000-yen bill in his wallet before.” A bald man named Inokuchi raised his beer with a grin.
“…Pff—hahaha! Trust you to notice that, Inokuchi!”
The place erupted in laughter.
“Maybe it was some urban legend?” a red-nosed drunk piped up.
“Like one of those monsters that buys your life with money? If you accept, your lifespan belongs to them?”
“No way. People are already keeling over at their desks every day—what monster would want to buy that life? You think a yokai wants to clock in at a company job? Give me a break.”
“Hey, that’s a bit harsh…”
The chatter grew livelier.
The proprietress held the bill up to the light, admiring it. To her, tonight had already turned into a good story worth remembering.
“Matsuya-san, you must’ve really loved that girl,” she said with a knowing smile.
“Huh? No, no, not at all! That boy was at least a hundred times better-looking than me. I wouldn’t dare.”
Matsuya flailed his hands.
Truth was, just the pressure radiating from that boy had been enough to crush any thoughts of rivalry.
And besides… ahem… his whole plan had been sabotage from the start.
“Haha, I meant the one from back in your high school days.”
The proprietress waved her hand with a mature woman’s charm.
Dinner at an izakaya was never just about food—half the men here could drink triple rounds just watching her sway her hips.
“Well…” Matsuya wanted to deny it, but after spilling his guts earlier, doing so now would only make him look petty.
Luckily, someone else rescued him.
“A hundred times better? You’re exaggerating, right?” the red-nosed drunk asked.
“No exaggeration. The kid had at least 300,000 yen in his wallet!” Matsuya swore.
“Ah! I’ve got it!”
A woman at the far end of the bar—a white-collar worker who’d shrugged off her jacket, sitting in just a shirt—suddenly spoke up.
“Matsuya-san, check this. Was the boy you saw… him?” She tapped at her phone, then held out the screen.
The others leaned in eagerly.
“Sayuri, come on. You’re kidding me, right? That’s not ‘a hundred times’ more handsome—more like ten thousand times!” Inokuchi cackled.
“Hey, hey! Am I really that bad?!” Matsuya protested.
But the moment his eyes hit the screen, he froze.
“…So it was him. Hojou Kyousuke.”
