Nibiiro no Hana: Chapter 18

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When he was first transferred, and even now, the headquarters' management department felt like an uncomfortable place. His new supervisor, Betty, had said to him pointedly during their first meeting, "I recommended Tennoji, so I wonder why it ended up being you instead."

There was no effort to be considerate just because he was new, nor did anyone offer help. Work was entirely individualistic. He had expected it, but the reality exceeded his imagination.

Office conversation was in English. Naturally, any documentation or correspondence with New York HQ was also in English. Even just reading emails and reports didn’t come as easily as Japanese would, and it added to the stress. To be honest, it was tough.

The saving grace was that his main duties were in managing the Japanese branch, so he could read documents before they were translated into English—meaning he could understand the fine nuances. That was essentially the only advantage he had over the foreign staff, Betty included.

As long as he finished his work, he could leave on time, and the salary was high. Telling himself that was how he coped with the stress-heavy environment. Recently, he had begun to adjust to the English-filled workload, but communication with the foreign staff still lacked subtle nuance. Thinking that this would continue for another two or three years made him feel weary. The word “career change” had already started flashing through his mind just one month after his transfer.

Going back to the branch office or to sales would be too humiliating. He wanted to work in a company where he could use mostly Japanese while keeping a similar salary. Ideally, he would finish the remaining half of his extended one-year contract, collect the five million yen bonus, and then make a graceful career move once Dan Carter returned to the U.S.—but that was just an ideal. Unless one was headhunted, mid-career hires were treated poorly. Even if he claimed to have been a headquarters employee at Eric & Ronald, he had no real accomplishments to show, so the reality would likely be difficult.

He had thought everything would go smoothly once he was transferred to headquarters—but now, here he was, troubled by the very nature of the job. Right now, he was doing mostly desk work, but he was beginning to wonder if he had actually been better suited to field work like sales.

Next to Sagawa's desk sat a box of Fufu, a chocolate cookie snack made by Eric & Ronald. A directive had come from New York HQ to lower its production cost. Naturally, if the cost went down and the product sold at the same volume, the profit would increase. At the branch, they were striving to meet HQ's demands by sourcing cheaper ingredients with the same quality and streamlining manufacturing processes. Sagawa and the rest of the management department at HQ were responsible for checking that and giving the final go-ahead.

Although Fufu wasn't selling well, it was the first Japan-original product by Eric & Ronald, so discontinuing it wasn’t an easy option. Various measures were being taken to boost sales. Sagawa had taste-tested Fufu against several similar snacks from other companies. Despite the fact that those other snacks were more successful, he didn’t find much difference in taste. In fact, Fufu might have even been better. The lack of sales, then, came down to its low brand recognition—a point frequently mentioned in reports from the Japanese branch.

Not only was recognition low, but the TV commercial was embarrassingly outdated. The branch had proposed alternative ideas for a new commercial, but all had been flatly rejected. The production company that created the current commercial was, as it turned out, linked to the vice president of Eric & Ronald—so it seemed there were “grown-up reasons” why change was unlikely. In light of that, the branch had done what it could, hiring a trendy design firm for magazine spreads and distributing free mini packs at major events in an effort to boost awareness, but no notable results had come of it.

The marketing department at the branch had repeatedly asked Sagawa, “Can’t we do something about the TV ad?” When he brought it up with his supervisor Betty, she always shot it down with a single word: No. Even though it made more financial sense for the company to switch to a better production firm, that possibility wasn’t even being considered. Lately, he’d come to understand why. People like Betty and the other foreign staff weren’t willing to risk their standing by cutting ties with connected parties. They preferred to maintain their positions—even at the cost of profitability.

Realizing this, Sagawa couldn’t help but feel a sort of admiration for how thoroughly individualistic the culture was. But, of course, the downside of that self-preservation trickled down to the Japanese branch. They were stuck trying to raise awareness and boost sales without being allowed to fix the commercial.

If only they used a hot young actress and made a stylish, cutting-edge commercial… it’d probably go viral instantly. Sagawa thought so while reviewing the miserable sales reports from major supermarket chains—data reported regularly by the branch. As someone who used to work in branch sales himself, he felt a real sense of frustration. And yet, now he found himself looking down at it all from above.

A voice he didn’t recognize made him look up. Betty was speaking with a blond man. Someone he hadn’t seen before. He looked about the same age as Dan. Their conversation was casual—“It’s humid here.” “Yes, it’s awful.”—so they clearly knew each other. That meant the man was probably visiting from the New York headquarters.

The blond man met Sagawa’s eyes and then whispered something to Betty. She gave Sagawa a sidelong glance and said, “That’s Sagawa Ryousuke.” Then the man, smiling warmly, came over to him.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Sagawa."

He was clearly older and of higher rank, yet he initiated the greeting.

Sagawa stood up from his chair and replied in English, “Nice to meet you. I’m Sagawa Ryousuke.”

The man leaned in a little and said, “So you’re the one,” peering into Sagawa’s face.

Even though he had been “transferred” to headquarters, it had only been on paper—like an internal reassignment. While he had submitted plenty of forms for the process, he hadn’t once actually gone to the U.S. headquarters. And yet, this complete stranger of a foreign executive seemed to know who he was. Transfers from branch to HQ were rare, so it made sense that he was on people’s radar.

"My name is Huey Adams. I’m here on a separate business trip, but I figured I’d stop by and see Dan’s face for the first time in a while. Turns out he’s out at the moment, though."

Sagawa stiffened. If this man could speak so casually with Dan, he had to be a senior executive. He grew tense, his expression rigid. I can’t afford to mess this up.

“Shall I contact the president for you now?” Sagawa offered.

Huey waved a hand. “No need. I’ve already let his secretary know I stopped by.”

Dan had both a Japanese and a foreign secretary. There was nothing for Sagawa to do.

As he stood awkwardly, Huey’s pale blue eyes stared at him in silence. Sagawa wondered if the man was just curious about seeing an East Asian up close. Then Huey crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes slightly, a gesture that looked almost amused. Why do I feel like I’m being made fun of, even though he hasn’t said anything?

“This is my first time at the Japan branch,” Huey said. “I’d like to tour a few departments. Would you be able to serve as my interpreter?”

Betty leaned forward with a displeased “Just a moment,” but Huey silenced her with a gesture.

“My Japanese isn’t great,” he added. “I’d appreciate your help.”

Sagawa looked to Betty. Her expression made it clear she didn’t approve, but she reluctantly said, “Sorry, but can you guide Huey around the office?”

Guiding visitors might be common in Japan, but in foreign companies—even for high-ranking executives—it was rare to pull employees away from their tasks. This guy is an exception. He must be important.

Starting from the upper floors, Sagawa explained which departments occupied each level of the building while guiding Huey around. Curious about the man’s position, he asked, “How should I introduce you to the staff?”

“Just say I’m from the Overseas Division,” Huey replied vaguely.

With nothing more to go on, Sagawa introduced him to the materials department one floor down as “Mr. Huey Adams from the Overseas Division, here for a branch visit.” Even the department heads didn’t recognize the name, and like Sagawa, didn’t seem to know how to treat him. They settled for neutral phrases like “Thank you for stopping by” and “We appreciate your time.”

When asked if someone should explain the department’s work in detail, Sagawa translated. But Huey just smiled and said, “No need. I just want to get a feel for the place.”

He exchanged a few words with the higher-ups in each department, took a brief look around, and that was it. A true flyby.

When they got to the marketing department, Sagawa overheard someone whisper, “Isn’t that Sagawa who got pulled to HQ?” and “That’s incredible.” Being regarded with such envy, after all this time, gave him a rare sense of pride. He adjusted his glasses coolly for effect.

Finally, they arrived at the sales department—his old stomping grounds. At this time of day, most of the 35 employees were usually out, but about fifteen remained, including the department head, some managers… and both Toichi and Tennoji.

The chance to show off that he was now guiding a high-ranking HQ figure was thrilling—especially in front of Tennoji.

Huey, who had barely shown interest in anything until now and had simply nodded along to explanations with a repeated “Nice”, suddenly perked up.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to a sample snack on someone’s desk.

“It’s a sample we made for distribution at events and such,” Sagawa explained, handing one over to Huey. The sample was one-tenth the size of the actual product, though the packaging matched the real thing exactly.

“Well made,” Huey said, taking the little bag between both hands and letting it dangle. “But instead of going to the trouble of making these mini sizes, why not just use the actual product? I bet there’s tons of unsold stock lying around.”

The sharp jab slipped out with a smile. Sagawa froze. Many of the staff understood English, and the atmosphere in the room instantly sank into a heavy gloom.

“This snack ought to be discontinued already. It’s Loagiero’s legacy of failure.”

Loagiero had been the first president dispatched to Japan when the branch was established. He was supposedly very passionate about developing fufu. That was nearly a decade ago—Sagawa had only ever seen him in photos.

Everyone in the room likely wanted to blame fufu’s poor sales on the nepotistic ad agency handling its commercials. But they all stayed silent. After so many failed attempts to raise objections with headquarters, they’d learned it was useless.

“Mr. Adams,” came a voice in nearly native English.

It was Tennoji, who had been working at his computer a little ways off but was now walking toward them. He was tall—when he stood beside Huey, they were nearly eye-level.

“My name is Jō Tennoji from Sales. Would you allow me to explain the sample?”

Not the slightest hint of intimidation in front of an HQ executive. With a small, handsome face and well-proportioned features like a celebrity, he offered a pleasant, professional smile. Huey hesitated with a drawn-out “Hmm,” but Sagawa quickly cut in with a warning look. Don’t waste his time. You’re just a branch employee—don’t go trying to show off in front of me.

But Huey said, “Sure, keep it brief.”

“Sorry, Sagawa. I’ll be quick,” Tennoji said politely, before turning to face Huey directly.

“fufu is targeted at women, and this campaign focuses on teens and women in their twenties. We have distributed full-size samples in the past, but survey feedback indicated that the size was too large to conveniently fit in their handbags. If a sample is rejected because of its size, that’s a loss for us. That’s why, this time, we deliberately opted for a mini size.”

Huey blinked. “Interesting. I knew Japanese snack sizes tended to be small, but I never imagined people would prefer even free samples to be smaller. That’s unheard of in the U.S.”

“We distribute multiple mini samples to each person. A growing trend among women is to share tasty things with others. Mini sizes make it easier to share. Personally, I think fufu tastes great, but not everyone will feel the same. If someone dislikes the taste, they can easily pass the leftover samples to someone else. Our strategy is to encourage the spread of our product—whether they like it or not—by making sharing easier.”

The decision to approve the mini sample project had ultimately come from the management division. Sagawa had been aware of the general objectives, but he hadn’t realized they’d gone as far as to consider the possibility of “passing on the rest” if someone didn’t like the taste. That level of planning surprised him.

“We designed the mini-size with the same packaging as the regular product so that if someone tries it and likes it, they can easily find it in stores later. fufu’s vivid packaging stands out, so I believe it’s even more effective,” Tennoji explained.

Huey tore open the sample bag and bit into the stick-shaped cookie. The crisp sound of chewing echoed through the room.

“I thought it was just a waste of effort, but I see there’s a clear intent behind it... Also, your pronunciation is very clean.”

“Thank you.”

In just a minute or two, Huey’s once mocking gaze shifted into one of interest and engagement. The atmosphere between him and Tennoji made Sagawa deeply uncomfortable. Everyone always seemed to find the “capable” Tennoji. Even Betty had bluntly told Sagawa that she would have preferred Tennoji instead.

“You’ve all put a lot of thought into this. I respect that,” Huey said, holding the now-empty sample bag up in front of his face, pinched at both ends. “But with such a detailed promotional strategy, why isn’t this selling?”

Sagawa was sure “Because the CM is lame” was coming. But Tennoji answered calmly, “I believe it’s because we haven’t secured convenience store placement.”

“Convenience store placement?”

“Yes. Our target audience—young women and teens—tend to buy snacks at convenience stores. But due to lack of brand recognition, slow sales, and the product’s larger size, fufu isn’t stocked. I’ve been thinking we might be able to launch a convenience store campaign by collaborating with speaks. But even with speaks, I think we’ll need more creative angles.”

speaks was one of Eric & Ronald Japan’s top three revenue generators—a staple carbonated drink found in every convenience store. fufu was hoping to one day achieve the same status.

“speaks is a sharp, dry soda. Its flavor pairs well with the sweetness of fufu. If we can establish fufu alongside speaks as a uniquely Japanese standard pairing, I think we have a chance.”

Huey asked, “Is that the sales team’s consensus?”

“No, it’s my personal opinion.”

“You’re Tennoji, right?”

“Yes.”

“You’re the one Betty liked. I’ll remember you,” Huey said, tossing the empty bag into the trash. “Well then, shall we?”

He left the sales floor ahead of them. Sagawa quickly followed, having to hurry to keep up. Huey walked fast, and it wasn’t until they reached the elevator that Sagawa was able to catch up.

“Um… I apologize for the sales rep expressing personal opinions like that.”

“It’s fine,” Huey replied—fluently, in Japanese.

“Eh?” Sagawa tilted his head in surprise.

Huey gave a sheepish “Oops” and stuck out his tongue like a kid. Wait… does he understand Japanese?

Sagawa was still reeling when Huey, grinning, added a bright “Sorry, sorry!” and flashed a bold wink.

"I speak enough Japanese not to be inconvenienced in business. But I really wanted to borrow you," Huey said.

Now Sagawa understood Betty’s strange reaction. If Huey could speak Japanese, there was no need to assign a translator.

"Tennoji is great. He's clever and speaks English at a native level. Now I see why Betty was pushing for him so hard."

Then Huey pointed at Sagawa.

"You, though—your pronunciation isn't good. And you should learn a few more words. You keep repeating the same phrases over and over. It's like talking to a robot."

He said it with a beaming smile. Sagawa had already been told the same by Betty and was attending an advanced English conversation class once a week as a countermeasure, but his improvement was slow.

"…I-I'm very sorry."

"Language is a basic tool. If you’re not at Tennoji's level, no one at New York headquarters will take you seriously."

Huey continued to press.

"I-I’ll keep that in mind. Um, shall we head back upstairs?"

Sagawa pressed the elevator’s up button. He didn’t want to see Huey’s face—he couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. If he made eye contact, he feared more would be said.

"Doesn't Dan help you with pronunciation?"

Sagawa spun around. What did this man…? What did he know?

"Like, during pillow talk, for instance?"

Huey puckered his lips and raised his index finger to them. A chill ran down Sagawa's spine, and the blood drained from his face. The elevator stopped, and the doors opened with a soft whirr.

"Shall we get on?" Huey prompted.

They entered the elevator alone. In that small, rising box, just the two of them—it was suffocating. Sagawa wanted to escape, but he couldn’t. His breathing tightened.

"No need to look like a scared little puppy," Huey said. "I won’t tell anyone that you used sex with Dan to push aside more qualified candidates and get yourself transferred to the main office."

The room spun. Sagawa’s vision blurred and he staggered, leaning against the elevator wall. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Huey smiling glamorously.

"I actually love sly types like you," Huey added.

He took a step forward, closing the distance, and with his face now within kissing range, he grabbed Sagawa’s ass. Sagawa’s whole body trembled. He was too frightened to move.

 

 

"Thought you were the thick-skinned and cocky type, but you're not what I expected," Huey said.

He gave Sagawa's ass a strong squeeze—gripping and kneading hard—then let go.

"You're a much duller man than I imagined."

The words were clearly directed at him, but Sagawa couldn't even grasp their full intent before they struck hard, lodging deep in his chest.

"Dan's never had an eye for men anyway."

The elevator doors opened. Huey said, "Thanks for the tour," and returned to the management department ahead of him. After briefly speaking with Betty, he left like the wind.

Trying to make up for the time lost during the company tour, Sagawa turned to his computer—but couldn’t concentrate for more than five minutes. The conversation in the elevator with Huey played over and over in his head.

Huey knew about Sagawa’s relationship with Dan. Most likely, Dan had told him. This is the worst. Can Huey's promise to keep quiet really be trusted?

If it ever got out that he’d used his body to gain a promotion, Betty and the other colleagues would undoubtedly look down on him. His already uncomfortable place in the management department would only become more suffocating.

"Sakawa!"

Betty's sharp voice nearly made his heart flip inside out. At some point, she had approached, glaring down at him like he was a bug.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you."

"You ignored me on purpose. I called you several times!"

"I truly apologize."

Betty’s angry expression suddenly eased, and she looked at him as if trying to probe something.

"Are you feeling unwell?"

"Not particularly—"

"You look terrible. If you’re not in top form, go to the hospital. Learn to manage your health before someone has to tell you."

He wasn’t physically sick, but Huey’s pointed remarks had done a number on him mentally. Wanting to calm down, he left the management department floor to take a break.

He wasn’t in the mood for a cigarette, so he sat down on a bench beside the vending machines in the break area.

He wanted to clear his head, but all he could see in his mind was Huey’s face. His mood only sank further. And then came the anger. At Dan Carter, whose loose tongue had started this mess. Sure, he’d never explicitly asked Dan to keep things quiet, but Huey was from HQ. Dan should have been more considerate of his position. No—he should have been discreet. This wasn’t something to tell other people. It was something to keep secret.

A notification lit up his smartphone. It was from Reina on social media:

“On break.”

“Eating sweets.”

“Looking forward to tonight.”

He’d already opened the message, so the ‘read’ receipt had been sent. He knew he needed to reply, but right now it felt unbearably irritating. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to ignore it.

“Look forward to it.”

“Busy, I’ll message again later.”

He sent them thoughtlessly, then powered his phone off.

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