"Furthermore, my family runs a hot spring inn. Until you settle in, you're welcome to enjoy it as a vacation."
It was an incredibly tempting offer. Middle-aged men are weak against hot springs.
"That sounds way too convenient for me, but… I don't have any money, you know?"
I made a point of showing I had nothing. I patted down every possible pocket, confirming for myself that I was completely empty-handed. Not even a single coin to my name. It would've been a funny gag if I pulled out an old Japanese six-coin set.
"I wouldn't ask a man to pay for that. If I did, I'd be a disgrace as a woman."
She responded with a troubled expression. Carrying me on her back earlier already proved she was quite the formidable person. I decided to do my best to pay her back someday.
"By the way, if we went straight to the hospital, they'd probably run a ton of tests, forcibly admit you, and put you under protective custody somewhere."
"That's terrifying…"
Not having a choice in my own fate was unsettling.
"Even if we went straight to the police, the process would likely end up the same."
"I really don't like that… That's scary."
I responded in the tone of a horror-story-telling old man. The police always seemed particularly harsh on men of a certain age.
Mainly because of things like false accusations of groping, unfair traffic violations, and unpaid, forced participation in volunteer activities. My impression of them wasn't great.
"I don't think they'd treat you that badly."
She gave me a puzzled look. If you've never been suspected or arrested, you probably wouldn't see them that way.
"Personally, I just have a bad impression of them."
She tilted her head as if asking, Is that so?
Being on the receiving end of enforcement leaves a strong impression.
"And that's where my family's inn comes in. Since we already know each other, the hurdle of being a stranger is gone. If we can establish that you have a stable place to stay, then with the right paperwork at the local office, you won't be forcibly taken in. Instead, you'll be given support based on your own will and needs."
She spoke rapidly, her face seemingly flushed. She was even slightly out of breath from saying it all in one go.
In the process, she had stopped covering her face, allowing me to finally get a clear look at her. She wasn't wearing makeup, but she was a natural beauty.
"Understood. I'll be in your care."
I decided to accept her help. I had nowhere else to go anyway. Accepting kindness when it's offered is part of having a little dignity.
Of course, I wanted to repay her kindness eventually, but that was a concern for another time.
Before that…
"Oh, by the way, what's your name?"
I'd forgotten to ask. Social skills really weren't my strong suit.
"Um… it's Misago Umino."
She answered quickly, leaning in slightly.
"Like the seabird?"
It seemed like a tricky kanji.
"Just write it in katakana, please."
"Got it. Nice to meet you, Misago."
I held out my hand as a test, and she grasped it tightly with both of hers. Was that a sign of high favorability?
"Yes!"
Her face was close. If I were a certain kind of comedian, I could probably just go in for a kiss, but that'd be way too much for a first encounter.
"So… your name is…?"
She tilted her head.
Nothing came to mind.
"Uh… Nanashi no Gonbei?"
"Nanashi no Gonbei" is a classic Japanese joke used when someone doesn't want to or can't provide their real name. In this context, the main character uses it as a way to avoid serious questions about his identity while trying to make a lighthearted joke. However, for those unfamiliar with Japanese culture, the joke might feel unclear or not particularly funny.
A classic fake name. Waiting for her to call me out on it.
"What even is that?"
She chuckled wryly.
"I don't know, my name just won't come to me."
What was I supposed to do? Stupid jokes came to mind easily enough, but not my own name.
"What should I call you, then?"
Misago also seemed troubled.
"Oh, just call me Umino Mokuzu (Drifting Seaweed)."
A self-deprecating joke. It was fine if I said it, but if someone else called me that, it'd sting. A fine line to walk.
"Umino…?"
Her face turned red all the way to her ears.
"Was using the same last name a bad idea?"
Was it bad manners to drag her into my joke?
"No! It's fine! Really!"
She shook her head vigorously. That movement looked like it would mess up her brain more than anything.
"That's good to hear."
Apparently, the surname wasn't the issue.
"Actually…"
She mumbled something, but the sound of the waves drowned it out.
"More importantly, you can't be called 'drifting seaweed!' You're not some worthless thing!"
Her tone suddenly shifted to an intense one. So, she was rejecting the "seaweed" part, not the surname.
"Then… call me whatever you like."
A classic negotiation move—offer something you know will be rejected, so they give you their own suggestion instead. Worked like a charm. Naming things was never my strong suit.
"How about Hisui (Jade)? It's the most valuable thing around here."
"That's setting the bar pretty high…"
Was I really worth that much? I was just a man in his thirties, after all.
"To me, you are."
She stated it with firm conviction. Maybe she just wanted to believe that something she picked up had value. It would've been rude to question it too much, so I let it be.
"Guess I'll have to work hard to live up to that."
I gave her a wry smile.
Author's note :
By the way, people with truly low self-esteem tend to reject help because they don't believe they deserve it. Accepting kindness actually requires a certain level of self-worth.
Those with high self-esteem take help easily, knowing they'll be able to return the favor quickly.
As for this guy—now named Hisui—he didn't think he had any value himself, but he believed his knowledge was worth something. That was the only reason he could accept help.
In Japan, middle-aged men from the "employment ice age" are treated as the lowest tier of society. He's still stuck in that mindset.