Lord-Campione
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New Dawn Chapter: 012
🕑 Added 2024-09-08 23:14:01 +0000 UTCTysone’s eyes fluttered open at the crack of dawn. It was inexplicably peaceful waking up to a gentle beam of crimson sunrise draping over his face. He expected to wake up intermittently due to pangs of hunger, but Saya’s thoughtful gift left him well-fed throughout the night.
He got out of bed, washed up, and finished yesterday’s leftovers. He had to save up whatever he could; it was not like he could intrude upon Saya and Mai’s kindness all the time. Not so much because he’d feel crushing guilt, but because it’d be overly obvious.
A give-and-take relationship is fine as long as you don’t take too much. It was a problem for Tysone since was greedy and ambitious.
Looking over at his less than stellar physical condition, Tysone wanted to get into shape as soon as possible, but without enough food to sustain it, he’d eventually burn out. Thus, it wouldn't make sense to exercise heavily when he didn’t have an ideal diet to back it up.
He looked out the window, at the sun rising high above the cityscape. ‘I need a job.’
As if on cue, his phone vibrated. He grabbed it, flipped it open, and saw Saya’s message on the old LCD’s display. ‘Go to the following address and ask about Mr. Takashi. You owe me one, yankee ;-P — XXXX - XX.’
At this rate, he was going to owe her his soul.
Not that he cared, if it made his life easier and better.
He replied with a quick ‘Thank you, love’. To which Saya pointedly ignored, but he could easily picture her rolling around on her bed, stammering flusteredly. Tysone looked at himself in the mirror. He was developing a stubble, and since it was his first job interview? Was it a job interview or did Saya get him in through backdoor and nepotism?
Either way, he had to look presentable, so he shaved all the excess hair. He wondered if doing so would invoke that trope where the main character would suddenly get a haircut and instantly become hot.
The old Tysone barely had decent clothes, so he decided to go with casual clothes. A simple, white t-shirt that clung to his frame, and black khaki pants. It didn’t fit well with his sneakers, but beggars can’t be choosers. ‘Then again, this is an anime world, so everything is possible here.’
…
The destination Tysone arrived at was a construction site located in an industrial part of Japan. He spotted several workmen decked in brown overalls, carrying tool boxes or industrial machinery. "Hm... it's so stereotypical, I could throw up rainbows." Tysone mused to himself.
He didn't really expect a desk job in a ventilated office with windows that overlooked the city, so he was fine grunting like an animal while carrying weight. But really, a construction worker?
If he was a main character, perhaps he could save someone with super-human feats or some other insane shenanigan and be forever immortalized as the best foreman ever in the history of construction sites.
Or, he could simply impress said foreman with his intelligence and get a promotion.
Still, wasn't construction one of those physically strenuous jobs that didn't earn the typical Japanese a lot of money? Well, whatever.
Tysone rolled his imaginary sleeves and walked in.
Naturally, he stuck out like a sore thumb. It was not even insulting at this point. Actually, it was kind of amusing and cute how all of those men turned to briefly gawk at him. They all wore high visibility jackets, protective gloves, helmets and some wore goggles over their eyes.
A black man among a sea of asians, how bizarre.
Someone approached him. Tysone bowed, as he had learned from Saya and many sleepless nights watching anime. He received a bow back. 'If I bow again, will he continue bowing until I stop?'
"Hello, I'm looking for a gentleman called Mr. Takashi."
Being so overly polite made him feel like a pompous prick, but you never know who you could be talking to. That Lv.1-looking crook passed out in some alley could turn out to be a Lv.100 mafia boss.
The man in front of him gave Tysone a quizzical look before realization dawned on him. Apparently, the name 'Takashi' was the only thing he understood. As such, he uttered a respectful chotto matte, or something like that, and left in a hurry.
He came back just as quickly, with someone Tysone presumed to be Takashi. He was taller than his colleague by a good head, though still fell far short of Tysone’s imposing stature. Still, he didn’t look surprised or put off by the sight of him.
Professionalism at his finest, or maybe simple common sense.
Regardless, they both bowed and Tysone hoped this wouldn’t develop into chronic back pain when he got old. “Hello, Mr. Tysone.” English poured out of Takashi’s mouth with an accented intonation. “I’ve heard about you from Mrs. Takagi. She put in a good word, and we trust her. We’ve got all the paperwork prepared. Please, follow me.”
Well, didn’t that go swimmingly? Tysone trailed after the foreman, surrounded by wary gazes, until they finally arrived at their destination: Takashi's trailer office. He gestured for Tysone to come in.
"Thank you, mister..." He noticed that Takashi struggled to pronounce the name 'Tysone', but in the end, settled for something simple yet effective, "Just call me Takashi. My father shares the same name, so I'm fine with everyone using it."
The trailer was sparse. Not an ounce of extravagance inside, except perhaps that vending machine.
The foreman plucked two 1-sou canned coffees and offered one to Tysone, to which the latter politely declined.
"I haven't properly welcomed you. Sorry about that." Takashi shrugged as he popped his can open and downed his coffee with one gulp.
"It's understandable. Japan has a language barrier, and English is not as widespread in this world as it was in my world. Apologies, I meant in my home country. I've come a long way." Tysone carefully measured his words, uncertain of how he could best communicate with Takashi.
The foreman leaned in his swivel chair, brows knitted in concentration. "So... Mrs. Takagi seems to be sponsoring you, and since she's provided a lot of the funds that have gone into this construction, we basically have no grounds to decline her requests. She basically owns a good chunk of the building anyway. This is all formality, I just need you to read this contract and sign where indicated. It's already been translated into English."
Well. "That simplifies a lot of things." Tysone grabbed the sheets offered to him. He made sure to go over each sentence thoroughly before signing at the designated spots. It seemed like a good offer. Then again, compared to his previous occupation back in his world, this might as well be a promotion. "Here."
Takashi received the documents with a grateful nod.
"You will start working starting tomorrow, at 7 AM sharp. You'll have half an hour for lunch. Dress appropriately in high visibility clothing I'll provide, along with other equipment. Your duties include fetching tools and materials for your coworkers, helping with carrying them and serving as a helping hand in any other manner, such as cleaning. For now, this is all you'll do until I deem you ready for something more complex. Am I understood?"
"Yes, sir."
Takashi nodded, satisfied.
"I look forward to working with you." Takashi said as he stood up and bowed, prompting Tysone to do the same. "You're one big guy, I'm sure you'll be of immense help around here."
...
Tysone never considered himself much of a hands-on worker. Sure, he cleaned his own home, he took care of his own room, but when it came to physical, hard labor like lifting heavy ass construction materials, it was something he simply didn't do.
It wasn’t something the average man could handle, and Tysone was glad his build gave him an edge for stuff like that. Besides, it could be considered a work-out of its own, so all he had to do was watch out for his diet.
You needed a six pack to defeat zombies. Women were exempt from that rule, but only because they existed for fan service.
Just kidding.
Cancel culture wasn’t a thing yet. And if he had any saying in it, it would never be.
Fuck that shit, seriously.
The sun beamed down on Tysone’s back like death lasers. He was sweating; he had been going back and forth across the entire construction site, inhaling dust and sand. Carrying boxes, pipes, materials… the entire spectrum, really.
"Hey, American! That pipe isn’t made of air. Move it already!"
He also took on the task of carrying the coworker's toolboxes while they took a break.
Damn it. Who spoke anyway?
When he turned around to look, everyone feigned innocence.
He'd find out one day, for sure.
Eventually, lunch break came.
And fuck, did he enjoy chugging water by the bottle. He looked down at the wrinkled and dirty clothes sticking to his large form, and smelled the pungent tang of sweat coming off of him.
"Ha! You look like you're in your environment, yankee."
Tysone turned around sharply, only to see Saya waving her tiny, slender hand with an overly proud smile. She stood at the entrance of the site; clearly, someone had recognized the young boss and let her in.
She probably enjoyed seeing him suffering like this.
Tysone grinned and, making sure Takashi couldn’t see him, flipped Saya off. Or, at least, he considered doing so. He found out that making this little rich young lady embarrassed was more profitable than their bickering. So he locked in, squared his shoulders, and gave Saya his most lightskin stare.
“.....!!”
