At home, Mayu refused to speak even though Tezuka continued trying for a conversation. When bedtime came, she snatched up her pillow and set up a makeshift bed in the living room. She slept without a blanket and with her feet put up on the armrest. Some time during the night, she heard Tezuka come out and felt him laying coverings over her. Too tired to open her eyes, she let him. Yet as soon as she woke up, she threw the blanket onto the floor.
Although anger consumed her, Mayu didn't stay stagnant. Knowing the public sector led to a deadend for a foreigner like her, she changed her strategy and applied to jobs in the private sector, focusing on international companies that could potentially put her languages and policy skills to use. She forced herself to fill out applications even though most of these jobs didn't match her experiences whatsoever. None of these employers responded.
Met with no invitations in the mailbox and an even emptier voicemail, the last cinders of hope inside of Mayu were extinguished. Where the hell is my future? She wondered during the day when she was alone at home and disappointed with herself. It astounded her to think that for years she had painstakingly climbed up step by step, and with one false move, she ended up falling headfirst against the ground.
At dusk, she wandered around the neighbourhood aimlessly and stopped by a bench next to the canal. Staring at the remaining sunlight dappling the surface of the river, she wondered where she could go from here.
When the moon rose and the sun was gone, she felt someone sitting down next to her. It took a while for her eyes to refocus and register Tezuka's face. His suit was unbuttoned and sweat glistened against his forehead as if he'd been running.
"You scared me, Mayu," he began, "I came home and you were gone. There was no message, and you didn't bring your phone. How did you expect me to find you?"
"I didn't."
He looked at her for some time and sighed, "I know you're still angry with me, but please don't do this again. What if you got lost?"
"I think I already am," she looked into the darkness, lit up by the city lights she could no longer see. "When I was eighteen, I thought I had it all figured out and the future mapped out. Now I don't know where I'm headed. Everything I worked for is for naught."
"That's not true."
"Then tell me how to fix this. Tell me where I can go."
"I've been thinking for the past few days and I have an idea," he answered, turning towards her, "one you might not like."
"Just say it. I think I've run out of options."
"You're not the type of woman who enjoys staying at home—I'm sorry that I even suggested it for a second. But to redeem your career in Japan might take some time—"
"I thought you said that public service positions are closed to foreigners."
"That's what I assumed. Through conversations with a few colleagues, it doesn't seem to be impossible, just rare. And it would take internal networking to make it happen."
"What are you suggesting?"
"Would you consider taking a job as a teacher in the private academy near the association? A good number of students there are children of current public officials. It would help if you were in a position to meet their parents and try to find out current needs in the government. Meanwhile, I'll see if any contacts or stakeholders at the association could be of assistance. After all, we also work closely with the government."
"In summary, you'd like me to try going through the side door."
"That's not what I mean," he said. "I want you to maximize your chances. Regular interactions and exposure to current public officials would show them how much of an asset you'd be. I'm sorry to put you in such a challenging situation, but to get what you want in this environment, we have to consider all options and be strategic."
Mayu sat back and inhaled deeply, but all that entered her throat was dampness. At first she thought it was the humidity of early summer. A second later, it occurred to her that they were tears. Where they had come from, she had no clue.
Tezuka held her hand and grasped her fingers firmly. When she met his eyes, she noticed that she'd never seen him so distraught in their years together.
"I'm really, truly sorry. I should've done my research. I should've warned you. I never wanted to hurt and disappoint you like this."
When he reached out and wiped away her tears, she didn't brush him off again. He then took out a handkerchief and she accepted it.
"I know. I get it now," she said, wiping the corner of her eyes. "To be honest, I was finished with blaming you for quite some time. I spent longer being mad at myself rather than you. How could I have omitted research before I upped and left my old job? How could I have abandoned what I worked for without a plan B? I'm furious with myself for this oversight. I don't like where I'm going because of where I've been, what I've worked for. Do you understand?"
"I do," he said. "It's a mistake, Mayu. Everyone makes mistakes."
"It's a tremendous mistake."
"You're not facing it alone: we'll fix it together. I'm sure."
In his eyes, she saw a spark of certainty that wasn't meant to be false comfort. She remembered that same look of resolution when emotions were heightened at the tennis courts and anxiety ate up his team. Tezuka was the type of man to provide solace and reassurance, she knew then, and time had only reinforced his strength.
Standing up from the bench, she took his hand. "Let's give it our best," she said, and let him take her home.
***
Following Tezuka's advice, Mayu mailed in her application to be a foreign languages teacher at the Aomachi Academy a block down from the tennis association. After some research, she discovered that Aomachi was a privileged elementary school that prepared children for the top secondary and post-secondary schools in the country. In other words, this was the first step of a series to becoming an elite. Starting from first grade, a school day was from eight to four, consisting of eight classes in arts, mathematics, social studies and languages. When Mayu saw the sample schedule, she couldn't help but feel sorry for these kids bound to grow up in a pressure cooker.
A phone call came a day later to invite her to an interview. After multiple rejections, Mayu was wary of in-person meetings. Yet five minutes in, she had a hunch that the panel had already internally decided to hire her and the interview was only a matter of procedures.
True to her predictions, she received a job offer the next day. Though her salary was slightly lower than her previous role in the Parliament, her workload had significantly lessened.
That night, Tezuka offered to take Mayu out to a fancy French restaurant in Roppongi even though she didn't see it as a celebratory occasion. As a quiet melody played in the background and platters of delicately laid out food arrived in succession, however, she began to feel relaxed for the first time in months. Suddenly, she was glad to have come and broken out of this fog of unhappiness. The future no longer felt entirely out of sight.
Both now working full-time, Mayu and Tezuka started a new routine. In the morning, they got dressed and had breakfast together. After a train ride to the Meiji Jingu Stadium station, they parted ways, with Tezuka heading straight to the association and Mayu taking a fifteen-minute walk towards the academy.
At Aomachi, she taught Japanese, English, French and social studies, and had a maximum of five classes a day. In her spare periods, Mayu polished her syllabus, prepared for the next class or marked that day's quizzes.
Unlike many other sectors in Japan, education rarely required extra hours and Mayu got off at four-thirty sharp each day. With Tezuka working until six or seven, she shopped for ingredients and cooked dinner. Occasionally, they'd go out to see a movie or take long walks around the neighbourhood. For the most part, they stayed in.
A few weeks into her new role, Mayu started meeting student parents and got a grasp of the policy landscape in the jurisdictional and regional government. Many were intrigued by her background and unique experiences, some mothers even inviting her out for tea or dinner. These women, having grown up in well-off families, were sophisticated and intelligent. Mayu enjoyed conversations about world affairs, literature and social issues, yet she always felt a certain distance.
These wealthy women could talk to her, she realized, but something about their tone of voice and demeanor made it clear that she was not—and would never be—a part of them.
On days when Mayu had free time and no other engagements, she walked the block down to visit Tezuka at the association. They'd have lunch in the café nearby or take a stroll around the Meiji Jingu garden. Once in a while, Tezuka would take Mayu to see the national team's practice matches or exchange tournaments with international players.
She appreciated him for including her in these events even though she knew visiting him at work wasn't technically appropriate. Even though Mayu had a full schedule and was making the right moves towards her future here, she was lonely, feeling more cut out of this life than ever.