Your life is so boring

Henshita Tsugina didn't know what to say.

He held the steering wheel, rubbed his knuckles lightly against the leather cover twice, and parted his lips, only to close them again.

His senior had taught him.

An Assistant Supervisor's first rule was obedience, the second was silence, and the third was to remain silent when even silence couldn't solve the problem.

Be invisible, or be a dumping ground for other people's emotions.

So he said nothing.

He simply turned the steering wheel, smoothly guided the car onto the main road, and drove in the direction Yan Si had specified.

The Delicious Ramen Shop stood on the corner of a side street, its entrance curtain hanging halfway down the doorframe. Wind and sun had faded the fabric somewhat, but the fringe along its edge was perfectly neat. Clearly, the owner paid attention to details. A wooden signboard outside listed the day's recommended broths and toppings in chalk.

The handwriting was round and full, with a small patch of the final stroke blurred by rain.

The shop wasn't large, but it had a modest reputation in the neighborhood. Even during the lull between three and four in the afternoon, the rich aroma of pork bone broth drifted through the gap in the door.

Yan Si cheerfully got out of the car, his shoe landing on the sidewalk tiles with a crisp tap.

Those purple eyes of his had visibly brightened several shades now that he'd found food.

He bent down, braced himself against the car doorframe, and tipped his chin toward Henshita Tsugina in the driver's seat. "Come on. Haven't eaten? Want to join me? My treat."

Henshita Tsugina hesitated for two seconds.

His reason told him he should refuse.

Maintaining an appropriate distance from Jujutsu Sorcerers was part of an Assistant Supervisor's professional code. Besides, this particular Jujutsu Sorcerer had skipped class that afternoon.

But his stomach was more honest. Nearly five hours had passed since lunch, and he'd only eaten half a soda cracker in the car.

He was hungry.

The smell of ramen made him even hungrier.

He nodded, switched off the engine, unbuckled his seat belt, and got out, the entire sequence brisk and decisive.

The streets were approaching their liveliest time of day as evening drew near.

The neon lights had just come on, red, blue, yellow, and green flickering against the darkening sky. Every few meters, the colors and rhythms changed, as though someone were adjusting a giant palette.

The drugstore sign was a glaring magenta. Next door, an exuberant advertisement played on a loop outside a pachinko parlor. Farther along stood an electronics store, with dozens of televisions in its window showing different channels at once.

The sidewalk was packed with office workers heading home, students leaving school, and housewives pushing strollers.

Footsteps, voices, bicycle bells, and announcements from the distant station tangled together, weaving an impenetrable net of noise.

"Humans are so noisy."

Yan Si stood outside the shop.

Information from the world outside poured in all at once.

The glare of neon lights stabbed into his pupils from every direction, the street's din filled his ears, and layers upon layers of smells hung in the air.

His nose felt awful.

He could smell the ramen shop's pork bone broth, the charred fragrance from the skewer shop next door, the perfume on a passing woman, and the dampness rising from a sewer opening.

All those sensory signals, amplified a hundredfold, flooded his brain simultaneously.

Standing outside the shop, he blinked, his lashes fluttering rapidly a few times.

His eyes, ears, and nose all felt uncomfortable. Too loud, too bright, and far too many mingled smells. None was particularly intense on its own, but piled together, they became a relentless sensory bombardment.

He reached into his pocket for three things. The first was a pair of earplugs.

They were made of soft foam. He squeezed them flat and inserted them into his ears. A few seconds later, the foam slowly expanded, filling his ear canals.

The street noise was muffled somewhat, but he could still hear it clearly.

The second was a pair of sunglasses.

The frames were a little wide, with faint signs of wear at the bridge.

He'd swiped them from Teacher Yaga's office.

Masamichi Yaga liked collecting these things. Apparently, he was something of an eyewear enthusiast?

Once the sunglasses were perched on his nose, the neon colors shifted from glaring magenta and bright yellow to soft burgundy and warm orange. The whole world dimmed a notch.

His eyes felt much better.

He was happy.

For the third item, he patted his pocket.

It was a face mask, but he hadn't brought it, since he was about to eat.

When Henshita Tsugina locked the car and walked over, this was how he found Yan Si: earplugs in, sunglasses on, a few loose strands of hair resting on his shoulders as he stood before the ramen shop's entrance curtain, wrapped in an aura of "don't talk to me."

He stopped beside Yan Si and hesitated.

"Are you... feeling unwell?"

"A little, but it doesn't matter." Yan Si pushed open the shop door, and the wind chime hanging from it gave a bright jingle. "Let's go in."

Inside was much quieter than outside.

Only a handful of customers sat at the counter, all office workers who had come alone. They kept their heads down over their noodles, and no one spoke.

Apparently, the noodles really were damn good.

In the kitchen, the large pot used to cook the noodles bubbled away, sending up clouds of white steam that formed a hazy halo around the fluorescent lights.

Handwritten menus were posted on the walls, the prices brushed onto Japanese paper in ink of varying shades.

The shop's prices were on the higher side of midrange. A bowl of its signature pork bone ramen cost nearly twice as much as it would at an ordinary ramen shop downtown, but that was nothing to Yan Si.

He chose the seat farthest inside. He left his earplugs in but took off his sunglasses and set them on the table.

Henshita Tsugina sat beside him, his posture as proper as if he were still in a meeting.

His back was straight, his hands resting on his knees.

Yan Si opened the menu, scanned it, and tapped the signature pork bone ramen with his fingertip. "This one, with an extra serving of chashu and a soft-boiled egg."

Then he pushed the menu toward Henshita Tsugina. "Your turn."

Henshita Tsugina took the menu, his gaze lingering an extra moment on the prices.

He usually bought convenience-store boxed meals for dinner, and even one costing more than five hundred yen required some consideration. He ordered the salt-broth ramen, the cheapest option.

"That's all?" Yan Si tilted his head to look at his menu. "Not going to take advantage of me?"

"That's all."

Yan Si didn't push.

He raised a hand toward the kitchen. The proprietress poked her head out of the steam, noted their two orders, and called them out to the kitchen in a robust voice.

While they waited for their noodles, Yan Si rested his chin on the back of his hand, tapping the table idly with his fingers.

He had nothing much to do, so he started pestering Henshita Tsugina again.

"Mr. Henshita, what do you usually think about when you're driving?"

"The road conditions," Henshita Tsugina answered honestly.

"What else?"

"...Nothing else."

"Then your life is so boring." Yan Si sounded genuinely sorry for him.

He pulled one earplug out and twirled it between his fingertips. "Twenty-four, no girlfriend, no one you're flirting with, and nothing in your head but road conditions when you drive. Have you ever thought... say, halfway through a drive, you suddenly decide you're done with this job and just head straight for the sea?"

Henshita Tsugina gave it serious thought. "I'd get fired."

"What's so scary about getting fired? You can always find another job. Oh, right, I suppose the economy here in Japan isn't doing so well. Finding work is pretty hard."

"This is a good job."

Yan Si raised an eyebrow, rolling the earplug once between his fingertips. "You really think it's good?"

"I do," Henshita Tsugina said. He offered no explanation, but there was an unguarded sincerity in that brief reply.

Yan Si glanced at him and didn't press further.

His personality was quite similar to Kento Nanami's, though Nanami had a much stronger air of a corporate drone.