25 Late night outing

Dinner that night tasted horrible. Although it was a curry made by the landlady, it had been burnt when Haruko reheated it, so a strong bitterness overpowered all the other flavours. The only upside was that rice was extremely easy to cook, so at least the main staple was palatable.

After dinner, Haruko went back to studying diligently, and Plato started adding bits and pieces to his piece of literature. There were some parts that were a bit too gruesome to be included in a fantasy novel which was generally aimed at young adults, so he had to simplify the descriptions a bit.

At precisely 10pm, Plato and Haruko both went to bed. Plato had a hard time sleeping, thanks to the octopus beside him, but eventually succumbed to the black abyss of sleep.

The next morning, Plato received a LINE message from Basara. The two had been working on organizing their families' investments into Plato's new company, as well as setting up said company.

But in the end, the company would practically wholly belong to Plato. They wanted a break, and since Plato was their 'boss', naturally, he would have to treat them.

The three confirmed their plans for the night, and agreed to meet at an izakaya near Plato's apartment complex.

The rest of the day flew past. Plato spent most of it wondering how he should publish his novel, either as a light novel or a western novel. If he chose the light novel route, it would be a more niche market which catered heavily towards the Japanese market, while a western novel might attract attention internationally, but certainly not so much in Japan.

It would be best to publish multiple versions of it, but he was unsure if the publishing agencies would attempt to limit his copyright authorizations so that they could monopolize the novel.

In any case, it wasn't possible for him to do anything about it by himself. He decided to consult Basara and Iwatani tonight.

At 8pm, Plato's phone dinged as it received a message. Taking a look at its contents, he went back into his room to get his jacket.

"Haruko, I'm going out tonight. Don't wait up for me."

With that, Plato shut the door without regard for Haruko's reply.

Inside the apartment, Haruko lifted her head as she stared at the door. She sighed softly, and said, "Stinky onii-chan."

Making his way down the stairs, Plato spotted his two friends at the entrance of the complex. He greeted them casually, but then he noticed that they were looking at him in shock.

"You… when did you learn to iron your coat?" exclaimed Basara.

"What are you talking about?" responded Plato, oblivious to what had happened.

"Your coat!" interjected Iwatani. "Why does it suddenly look like its new?"

"My coat? I didn't do anything to it though?" replied Plato, before looking down at his sleeves. It was indeed less creased. If he didn't know better, he might have mistaken it for a coat that had just been bought.

'That Haruko…' he thought. There was no other explanation for it. He was rather sceptical about where she found the time to perform such a menial task, but he did not pay much attention to it. It wasn't his place to micromanage her life.

Enlightened, Plato explained, "My cousin did it for me. She's upstairs right now."

"You have a cousin?" blurted Iwatani. He was so shocked that he had just said whatever had first entered his mind; it wasn't until he had said it that he realized he had erred.

"Who doesn't have a cousin?" retorted Basara, while flashing a look of contempt at Iwatani. Refocusing his gaze on Plato, he said, "Are you alright with living with your cousin? He doesn't remind you of anything bad, right?"

"She. Her name's Haruko," Plato corrected. "Her parents and I are still on bad terms, but at least they apologized for their behaviour."

"Alright, that's good," affirmed Basara, completely ignoring the first sentence.

"A female cousin?! My good brother, why don't you introduce us… hehe," giggled Iwatani, in a slimy voice.

Basara immediately whacked the back of Iwatani's head and looked apologetically at Plato.

Plato paid no heed to it and waved it off silently. When it came to these two, there was a set and defined behaviour pattern. Basara would be the tsukkomi, and Iwatani the boke. While Plato did not mind it, the almost perpetual comedy routine slowly wore down on his tolerance.

At the very least, he did not want to face it on a daily basis. Thankfully, his current status did not require such a feat.

"Let's go," urged Plato. Although it was still early, if they waited until ten or eleven, the salarymen would come swarming in and it would become extremely rowdy.

"Alright, you're the boss!" replied Basara, while chuckling. He was not accustomed to this way of address, but it was important in terms of working relationship. Japan was a place that stressed seniority in the workplace, unlike Australia, so not calling someone "boss" or "senpai" would be seen as disrespect and acting out of place.

Plato also knew of this, so he did not comment and instead nodded simply. The three walked along the already dark and narrow streets, chatting along the way. Their backs were exceptionally straight, and their gait confident. Repeated body training and martial arts proficiency had contributed greatly to their posture.

They arrived at their destination in five minutes. It was a medium sized shop, with an opaque glass, sliding door with a button that you had to push to open. It was attached to another two shops, one on each side. A small electronics shop filled its left, while a clothing store that sold cheap brands was on its right.

Overall, the neighbourhood could only be considered as poor. It was a place that catered to salarymen, after all, and they would often have to work OT with low wages. They couldn't afford to go to the high-end bars and restaurants for supper or a midnight snack, so the izakaya had a steady flow of customers.

When Plato and co. stepped through the door, the izakaya had only just started its night run. The shop was L-shaped, with the larger rectangle split into halves. A mesh partition made of wood was in the centre. Lining the walls and the partition were two to four seat tables, and the kitchen was at the very back. Private rooms were provided in the smaller rectangle of the floorplan.

A simple bell rang out when the door had slid open, drawing the attention of the waiters to the trio. A young female, no older than 20, approached Plato, who was conveniently standing in front.

"Welcome. How many people for today?" she inquired.

Before Plato could reply, Basara had already beaten him to it.

"Four," he replied. "We booked a room under the name of Miyamoto."

Surprised, Plato looked back at his friend, but ended up saying nothing. He was not the organizer, so he naturally had no say on who was invited. He didn't believe that Basara and Iwatani would do anything detrimental to him either, especially after finding out the secret about the prophecy.

The waitress nodded knowingly, as if she had been waiting all day for them to come. Her gaze contained a slight trace of excitement, as she used a quick step to lead them to their room.

"The menus are already on the table," she explained. "You can ring this bell to call for service."

Plato, Basara and Iwatani nodded, before proceeding to sit down at the table. While some izakayas only had traditional tables where one sat cross-legged, this particular one did not have enough space for that; therefore, the tables and chairs followed the western style. There were coasters and placemats, as well as a cup of cold water. Classic Japanese condiments, like pickled ginger, soy sauce and grated radish lined the centre of the table. A coat rack lay in a dark corner of the room, adorned with three coats.

"Alright, thanks. Let's get eight beers first, twenty tsukune, four plates of beef tataki, and four bowls of takowasa," ordered Basara.

"Certainly. They'll be out in a moment," the waitress chirped, seemingly happy that they ordered so much for their first round.

After she left, Plato simply stared blankly at the walls while sipping on his water.

"Aren't you curious who the plus one is?" piped Iwatani, unable to supress his urge to see Plato's surprised face.

"Not really," Plato responded in a deadpan fashion. "Weren't we going to discuss our company?"

"Such a spoilsport," complained Iwatani. "Naturally, we called you out for that. But, let's wait for the other person to arrive first. They will no doubt be able to help you with it."

Plato simply grunted in acknowledgement, not willing to fulfil Iwatani's strange desires.