092 – Outcasts #2
My body ached all over from a night on the world's most uncomfortable bed. On mornings like that, I skipped punching the clock and headed straight for the massage shop.
Oizys's Happy Massage Shop.
"Kuhuhuhu. Unauthorized tardiness. A truly criminal idea."
Early in the morning, Oizys was doing meditation yoga on a mat spread across the shop floor. She eyed me and silently jerked her chin toward the treatment table nearby. I flopped face-down on it.
Crack-crack-pop!
Soon, fingers with insane grip strength started kneading my back and waist like dough. I had no idea what technique she was using, but it felt like my whole skeleton was being reassembled—pure bliss.
"Ahh, that's the stuff."
"Hoo, you endured that without even screaming? Even the burly guys who climbed aboard the Argo were bawling and running for the hills on this course. Now you've got me fired up."
The goddess of pain, Oizys, knew exactly how to press the human body to maximize agony. She was that intimate with anatomy.
"Jo, I know you're infamous for enjoying torment like a demon. But can you really hold out through my signature foot massage without screaming? Hah-yap!"
Oizys let out a kiai and clamped down on my feet like a healthy yoga instructor gone feral. And then the miracle happened.
Squish-squuuuish. Crack! Craaack-pop!
Incredible sounds started erupting from my feet—sounds I couldn't believe came from human joints. No exaggeration: even legendary heroes shed tears over this. It hurt like hell.
But a good foot massage is supposed to hurt just right. Refreshing. Perfect.
'When Oizys suddenly opened a massage shop at the West Gate, I was honestly despairing.'
Quitting her executive spot at HQ for sports massages in a rundown market? The unprecedented news was a massive scandal, drawing eyes from everywhere. It tore me up inside.
And for some reason, she gifted me a 'free priority pass.' I was skeptical at first, but who passes up a massage from the goddess of pain? It's like getting asset management advice from Warren Buffett on Earth—an opportunity too huge to ignore.
Turned out it hurt just right, felt amazing, and now I'm a regular.
"Damn it, Jo, you pervert! You're the first to take my foot massage course without a peep. I lose! You masochistic freak!"
Lately, I'd realized I was unusually numb to pain compared to most people. Anything less than a solid ache just didn't hit the spot. Weird.
I used to be such a wimp that a mere scratch from a twig would bring tears.
'Has my body adapted to survive this hellhole of a Soul Society? Turned me into a pain-junkie to keep my sanity through endless failures...'
Made sense. But dwelling on it soured my mood, so I stretched my newly loosened body and asked Oizys, "Ditching HQ life for a massage shop? You're the first exec to pull something like this. Why walk the thorny path?"
"Just like you said—thorn city. Money's okay, work's nonstop chaos. But it's fun. For the first time in my long life, I feel truly alive!"
At our first interview, she'd seemed so pessimistic about her situation. It reminded me a bit of Melinoë denying her nymph side—got under my skin.
"This is my real life. Realizing that's what I wanted makes every day fuller. Thanks to you, Jo. So take this as just me mumbling to myself."
The bubbly, bronzed yoga instructor suddenly shifted to cold goddess mode, shadows sharpening her face.
"Jo, tons of people are gunning for you. Even inside exec circles. Can't spill details, but watch your back—don't get fired. Lots want you out."
Lots of people want me fired?! After days of pure suffering, this was the best news ever.
'Talk about a massage for the soul!'
I'll be hitting Oizys's Happy Massage Shop regularly from now on. Gotta recommend it to Melinoë, the nymph staff, and all the married ladies too.
###
"Ahem, sorry I'm late."
By then it was 10 a.m.—a full hour past start time. I figured it'd ding my rep, but when I walked into the Development Division, it was a ghost town.
What the...?
About two hours later...
"Ahem, sorry about last night's bender. Got a late start."
Crowzer finally strolled in at noon, right as lunch hit. He even checked his watch and said, "Lunchtime now—let's grab some food. That pig knuckle soup from Nureongi and her owner's place is killer for hangovers. Ask for extra meat and broth; they refill endlessly."
Tardiness was one thing, but bolting for lunch on arrival? Narcissus, arriving with him, chuckled happily. "Corporate card, right? I want the pork belly set too. Can we order extra for dinner takeaway? Wanna share with Echo."
"I'll pass on lunch! Nail appointment! Back around 3."
A guy clocking in at lunch and immediately demanding food. Another swiping fancy menu on the company card. A girl skipping out for personal errands past lunchtime.
'My massage-tardy ass looks downright professional by comparison.'
Hanging with these clowns makes me look competent by proxy... Tense thoughts swirled, but I snapped out of it. Today was the finale for Development Division hires. That ridiculous reject legion would dump misfits just like themselves on me. Amazing talents, no doubt.
And if these newbies tanked performance into the negatives? Doubts about my hiring and management skills would explode everywhere. Demotion, then firing—jackpot.
That afternoon, four new hires were selected.
"Me. Good worker. Lots of debt. Must support mom. Need big money."
First up: a one-eyed giant. Small for his kind—barely a head taller than me.
"This guy?"
"Ahem!" Crowzer cleared his throat. "Cyclops I hired. Just call him Sai. Single guy caring for his widowed mom, drowning in debt—real sob story."
"So you're saying you didn't hire based on skills, but got emotionally suckered by his pitiful backstory?"
"Ahem, backstory? Strictly skills-based... but..."
"Hiring a strength-specialized cyclops for strategic planning desk work is 'skills-based'? You sure about this, Crowzer?"
"Well... not 'sure' exactly, but considering regional balance and community harmony in job creation, this outcome makes sense... or doesn't...?"
Crowzer seemed lost in his own nonsense. Never dreamed he'd botch it this bad.
'Exactly as hoped!'
Rare smooth sailing. Sai the mini-giant got the hire stamp—thunk! No need for a resume.
Next hire...
"...Tlerooai?"
A woman with red bobbed hair. Didn't look... all there?
I frowned; Narcissus jumped in. "Sh-She's deaf and mute. Name's Helen. But she's got mad talent, like our Echo!"
"Duaaaah!"
What a Happy World. Echo's situation made him hire another mute? Mixing personal romance into recruitment? Not normal hiring logic.
Which is perfect!
"Approved. Her too. Now Hedone's pick..."
Kyang...!
Even I, committed to trash hires, grimaced. Some furry beast wagged its tail and tilted its head.
"Hedone, this thing?"
"It's a hell puppy! Cute, right? I picked it. Aww, so adorbs!"
Kyang...!
The hell puppy was a native golden-furred fox of Happy World. Hiring an animal? Hedone's MZ-gen brain was next-level astral.
"Hired."
Decision made.
"...Phew, good."
"Relief."
Crowzer and Narcissus sighed oddly relieved—suspicious. Whatever.
One newbie left. Nymph quota nymph...
"This Carnoy doesn't get it, but this Makenoi will do great work...! Show nymph magic...!"
"This Makenoi is honored to work with esteemed honorary nymph Joinoi...! This Makenoi will shatter bones for Soul Society nymphs...!"
Makenoi was a doll-like nymph with long golden hair. Petite, youthful, but sharp as hell.
'But a nymph. Big ones aside, small nymphs are naive tricksters. Might as well hire.'
A twinge of unease, but after Sai, Helen, and the hell puppy cranked failure to eleven, one smart nymph wouldn't derail things.
"Approved. Start tomorrow."
###
"Mother."
Sai returned home calling for his mom. She was a frail giant on the brink of ghostification, half the height of others—lifelong target of discrimination and finger-pointing.
"How'd the interview go? If you didn't make it, don't get down. Better chances await. Cough."
"Interview. Passed. Can earn money now."
"You passed?"
"Yes. Finally. Real job."
Cyclopes were strong. Most landed labor gigs across Soul Society facilities. But Sai, inheriting his mom's small stature, had too many physical shortcomings for prime spots.
He was an oddball anyway. Preferred brains over brawn despite being a giant cyclops.
That's why he night-schooled business undergrad, self-studied master's and PhD.
But...
—PhD? Who cares! Hey, Sai! Go mix the concrete and spread it! Think day labor's easy!?
People wanted his brute strength and the labor it produced. So Sai bounced between toilet cleaning, sewer repairs—grueling gigs. His fancy degrees faded like old photos on a dusty shelf.
Then the legendary employee Jo's hiring notice dropped.
'Jo. Climbed to deputy director on mortal flesh—a transcendent figure.'
Sai admired Jo. Never blamed his flaws, proved his worth through grit. Even rejection would've inspired from afar.
But he passed the interview. They didn't mock or sneer at his degrees.
'This is my shot. Prove my value despite being runt-sized. Repay those who believed. Last filial duty to my sick mom.'