HPDBC Chapter 127 Two Worlds
Chapter 127 Two Worlds
October 27, 1988.
The sky over Tokyo was a dazzling azure blue.
This autumn seemed hotter than usual. Not just because of the temperature, but also because of the money flowing through the city. The Nikkei index had just broken a new high, and the air in Ginza seemed to be filled with the scent of expensive French perfume and the ink of freshly printed banknotes.
Marunouchi, 12:15 PM.
The streets were like battlefields.
"Empty truck! Empty truck!"
Shinichi Tanaka stood by the roadside, waving three 10,000-yen bills in his hand, trying to flag down a taxi. A small patch of his Armani suit was already soaked with sweat.
A taxi slowed down in front of him. The driver glanced at the banknotes in his hand, then at another man not far away who was holding up five fingers—meaning he was paying 50,000 yen for the fare—before stepping on the gas and speeding away.
"Damn it!"
Tanaka stomped his foot hard and glanced at the gold Rolex on his wrist.
As a section chief at Mitsubishi Corporation, he had just received a generous autumn bonus and wasn't planning to treat himself. He had originally wanted to go to Ginza for a top-notch tempura meal, but that damned Michelin-starred French restaurant was already booked until next month.
So he thought he'd go to a high-end restaurant recommended by a friend. His friend had found it by chance when entertaining clients, and it was said that the food was comparable to Michelin-starred restaurants, and it was probably only a matter of time before it got the certification.
But after standing by the roadside for twenty minutes, he couldn't even touch the car door.
The pager at my waist suddenly emitted a series of rapid beeps.
Tanaka glanced down and his expression changed slightly.
[The rubber futures briefing has been moved up to 13:00. Return immediately.]
One o'clock.
There were only forty minutes left. It was clearly too late to go to Ginza, and queuing at a nearby restaurant was a pipe dream.
"Are we supposed to go to the meeting on an empty stomach?"
Tanaka loosened his tie in frustration and scanned the street.
His gaze fell on a sign that flashed orange, green and red stripes—7-Eleven.
In the past, having an elite like him eat at a convenience store would have been an insult to his status. But at this moment, hunger and the urgency of time forced him to lower his head.
"etc……"
Tanaka suddenly remembered the GG advertisement that had been plastered all over the TV and magazines these past few days. It was about the "Ultimate Series," the series that claimed to use ingredients specially sourced from Hokkaido.
"Since I can only eat at convenience stores," Tanaka straightened the hem of his suit jacket and strode over, "then I'll eat the best."
The automatic doors slid open to both sides, and a cool, fresh breeze rushed in, instantly shutting out the sweltering heat of the street, a mixture of car exhaust and desire.
Welcome!
Neatly dressed shop assistants stood behind the counter, bowing slightly to welcome customers. Even to Section Chief Tanaka, their bowing posture seemed quite professional, indicating they had received special training.
The store was quiet. The floor was polished to a shine, reflecting the neatly arranged merchandise on the shelves. Every item here was displayed like a work of art, even the orientation of the labels had been carefully calibrated.
Tanaka ignored the ordinary bento boxes and went straight to the heart of the fresh food section.
There was a black velvet mat on the floor, upon which were rows of beautifully packaged hand-rolled rice balls, glistening enticingly under the spotlight.
【Premium Gold Label Handmade Rice Balls (Hokkaido Raw Rice Balls) - 400 yen】
400 yen.
A single rice ball costs 400 yen.
This price would have been unimaginably high a few years ago, but in Tokyo today, where even a cup of coffee costs 800 yen, the price seems just right—not so cheap that it raises doubts about the quality, yet it reflects the buyer's "discerning taste."
"That's it."
Tanaka reached out, his fingertips touching the rough yet luxurious texture of the washi paper wrapping. It felt light in his hand, unlike the dense, machine-pressed dough. He then casually picked up a bottle of premium oolong tea priced at 500 yen.
Pay the bill and tear open the packaging.
There was no mess of seaweed breaking apart; S-Food's specially designed easy-tear opening is very user-friendly.
He stood in the smoking area downstairs from the office building and took a small bite.
"Click."
The crisp sound of the first-harvest seaweed from the Ariake Sea explodes in your mouth. Next comes the rice. Each grain of rice seems independent, with a slight airiness, a special technique that simulates hand-shaping. The sweetness of Hokkaido's "Mengpili" new rice spreads on the tip of your tongue, mixed with the bursting salmon roe, and the salty and fresh ocean flavor instantly fills your mouth.
"Um……"
Tanaka closed his eyes and let out a satisfied sigh.
The taste was surprisingly comparable to the last main dish he had at the Akasaka Ryotei.
Although it was just a convenience store, he still maintained the dignity of an elite – he ate "the finest" food, the best of the best.
He glanced at the poster at the shop entrance, which had a line of bold, gold-embossed text:
"The ultimate deliciousness that's right at your fingertips."
Tanaka threw the wrapper into the trash can, glanced at the time, and strode confidently back into the gray torrent of elites.
……
4:30 PM.
Setagaya Ward, Sakura Shinmachi.
The atmosphere here is completely different from Marunouchi. If Marunouchi is a battlefield of money, this is a living hell.
Although it's an affluent area, that's for those with assets. For families relying on a fixed salary, the price increases this year have been alarming. A head of cabbage in the supermarket has risen to 300 yen, and even discounted eggs, a favorite among housewives, require long queues to buy.
Miyoko rode her brand-new "Mom Bicycle," its basket stuffed full of discounted toilet paper she'd bought from the supermarket.
She stopped in front of Lawson on the street corner.
The atmosphere here is lively and bustling. Promotional cardboard boxes are piled up at the store entrance, and banners hang on the glass windows with huge slogans such as "Large-scale increase," "Direct supply from the source," and "Fight inflation!"
Miyoko locked her car, picked up a shopping bag, and went inside.
She ignored the fancy snacks and went straight to the fresh produce section.
There were several huge wicker baskets piled high with onions and potatoes that still smelled of earth. Although they were small and some were even irregularly shaped, earning them the nickname "Grade B," the prices on the tags made her heart race.
【S-Farm Direct Supply - Hokkaido Baron Potatoes (Unselected Fruit) - 30 Yen/each】
"Wow, that's so cheap..."
Miyoko quickly picked out five potatoes and two onions. She'd be making curry rice tonight; it would only cost less than 200 yen. In this bubble economy where even green onions were getting more expensive, this price was a lifesaver for housewives.
She turned and walked toward the bento box area.
My growing son has been complaining of hunger lately, and regular bento boxes are not enough to fill him up. Meanwhile, a bowl of pork cutlet rice at a restaurant has gone up to 800 yen.
Her gaze settled on a large, transparent plastic box.
[Mega Special Curry Pork Cutlet Rice Bowl - 450 yen]
It was piled high with rice, topped with a golden pork chop bigger than the palm of your hand, and the rich curry sauce was almost overflowing.
Miyoko weighed it in her hand. It was heavy and had a good weight to it.
"This is it."
She put the bento box into the basket with satisfaction.
When it was time to pay, the cashier skillfully packed her heavy bento into a bag. Miyoko glanced at the poster behind the counter; it featured a giant rice bowl and read:
"Your home kitchen and energy replenishment station."
Stepping out of the store, the setting sun bathed the street in orange-red hues.
A brand-new Mercedes-Benz roared past, splashing up fallen leaves from the roadside. Miyoko wasn't envious; she hung her heavy shopping bags on the handlebars and pedaled hard.
In this era of skyrocketing prices, being able to feed her family with the least amount of money is her victory.
……
Six o'clock in the evening.
Shibuya, Park Street.
The neon lights came on, turning the sky into a mesmerizing purple.
The automatic doors of FamilyMart slid open with a "ding-dong" sound.
Naomi and Aiko walked in, laughing and joking. They were wearing shortened school skirts, their backpacks were covered with all sorts of doll keychains, and they were holding crepes they had just bought in line.
"Hey, I heard that the super popular disco 'Maharaja' has a special event tonight?"
"Really? But the admission fee is 5,000 yen."
"What's there to be afraid of? I have pocket money from my dad anyway. He said the stocks have gone up again, so I can spend it however I want."
"Oh—I'm so envious! Why don't you treat me?"
"Hmm...then come to my room tonight and play games with me, and it'll be on me~"
The two girls discussed the huge expense that would be a fortune for ordinary people without any restraint, and then walked into the trendy convenience store.
The store was playing Tatsuro Yamashita's "Ride On Time," the most popular City Pop song right now, with its upbeat rhythm that made you want to sway along.
The lighting here is layered and visually appealing, making it feel less like a convenience store and more like a small boutique. The shelves are arranged in a staggered and orderly fashion, and the walls are adorned with pop art-style paintings.
They didn't look at the bento boxes or rice balls, but went straight to the freezer.
There were rows of desserts displayed there, packaged as exquisitely as jewelry boxes.
【Sweets+ · Hokkaido snow-melted pumpkin pudding—— 150 yen】
The transparent pudding cups are printed with the stylish geometric patterns reminiscent of Seibu Department Store designs. The golden pumpkin pudding is topped with a layer of pure white whipped cream and adorned with a dark green pumpkin seed that shimmers enticingly under the light.
"Kawaii!"
Naomi picked one up, held it to her cheek, and struck a pose in front of the mirrored wall in the store.
"Aiko, quickly take a picture for me! Make sure the logo on the back is in the shot, this is a Seibu collaboration!"
"Come on...look at the camera...OK!"
Aiko held up an instant camera covered with various stickers, and with a soft "click," a sheet of white-edged photographic paper slowly emerged.
She picked it up and shook it; a slightly blurry image appeared on the photographic paper.
"It looks great!"
Naomi, holding the photograph, excitedly hugged Aiko and rubbed her face against her cheek.
"...Okay, stop fooling around, Naomi..."
Besides the pudding, they also picked up a uniquely packaged rice ball – [Mentaiko Cream Pasta Flavor].
"This is so weird, stuffing pasta into a rice ball? Want to try it?"
"Anyway, it's not expensive, and the packaging is so pretty, it's pink."
The two girls, carrying snacks and desserts, weren't in a hurry to leave. They stood in the magazine section, flipping through the latest issue of "anan" while discussing where to go skiing next week.
On the sign next to the cashier, there was a line of small, artistic words:
"You, with your unique lifestyle."
……
Night was falling.
Bunkyo Ward, Hongo.
Laboratory 404, Graduate Building, Faculty of Science, University of Tokyo.
There was neither the hustle and bustle of Shibuya nor the prosperity of Marunouchi. The incandescent lights cast a somewhat cold glow over the laboratory, and the monotonous hum of the server racks could be heard softly.
The Tokyo night sky outside the window was illuminated by countless searchlights and neon lights, like a dream from which I would never wake up.
But Suzuki Amy didn't look out the window.
She sat at a workbench piled high with cables, circuit boards, and English documents, the thick lenses of her glasses reflecting the faint blue light of the computer screen.
Her hair was a little messy, and her expensive S-Collection coat was casually tossed on the back of the chair, replaced by a brand new white lab coat.
"TCP/IP protocol suite packet header verification..."
She muttered to herself, her fingers flying across the keyboard.
A rice ball that had gone completely cold sat on the corner of the table.
That's 7-Eleven's "Premium Series," made with Hokkaido rice, the kind of rice most highly regarded by elites like Section Chief Tanaka.
But at this moment, it's just a half-eaten rice ball.
Amy reached out, mechanically picked up the rice ball, and took a bite, completely unaware of the so-called "ultimate deliciousness." To her, it was just carbohydrates to keep her brain functioning.
Her gaze was fixed on the printed notice in her hand.
[University of Tokyo - Special Researcher Selection Test (Closed to the Public)]
[Evaluator: Jun Murai]
[Date: July 1, 1988]
That was the admission ticket Satsuki gave her.
It is still her only ladder to that "online world" that is grander and more real than the bubble economy.
It's also the only chance I can stay by Satsuki-chan's side.
If she doesn't pass this test, she and Satsuki will be destined to live in two different worlds. Losing her value as someone "needed by Satsuki" is Amy's greatest fear right now.
"We can't lose..."
Amy swallowed the cold rice, her eyes burning with an almost fanatical obsession, a light brighter than the neon lights outside the window.
"We absolutely cannot lose."
"Only by passing this test, only by mastering a skill that no one can match... will I be qualified to continue standing by Satsuki-chan's side."
She put her hands back on the keyboard.
The crackling sound of hammering echoed through the empty laboratory.
On this Tokyo night illuminated by the glow of convenience stores, some are consuming, some are reaping the rewards, and some are reveling.
Meanwhile, some are silently honing themselves in the darkness, striving to become the sharpest blade in the hand of the "knife-wielder."
The world of bubbles is diverse and fascinating in its own way.