The Best Leaders Rely On The Facts Not Intuition
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“I’ve had it. I can’t stand these people any longer.”
“It’s been a while since we had some good old-fashioned family drama, hasn’t it?”
I was talking to myself because there wasn’t anyone else who would have agreed with me. There were still four days left until the end of my first year at university, and as for how much time I’d spent in this building over that period… let’s just say I could probably make a pretty accurate map of it from memory alone.
It made sense to me why students didn’t want to spend their time studying here when they only had two years left of their lives: This place was like an evil, living hell.
And yet… if I hadn’t studied here, I wouldn’t be where I was now. And even though I hated every single one of them, my friends. That meant there must have been something about them that made me feel that way.
If there weren’t then I might as well get out now and forget all about the rest of my life after graduation. Because if not having anything to live for meant being able to live without getting so angry with everyone around you, then that was definitely worth sacrificing everything to achieve. Right? I mean, what did I care anymore anyway…?
I’m sure someone must have said I looked like I’d seen a ghost or something right before I turned to look at the door to my office. “I think I’ll take that job,” I whispered and walked towards it with a spring in my step.
A moment later a knock sounded, but when I opened the door, the person standing there wasn’t someone from school. It was my childhood friend, Ryoma Uchida, who was working part-time as a waiter on campus.
He worked in this café called The Library (a name that made me wonder whether they knew what irony was) three nights a week; his other job was as the head of the student council.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him when he came in, although we both knew exactly why he was there.
“Oh hey, I just thought I’d drop by,” he replied nonchalantly and sat down.
We talked quietly for ten minutes, which seemed to fly by in no time at all. But then again, that wasn’t unusual. When I got along with someone it always felt like nothing lasted very long. In fact, the most memorable things happened in short spurts, like fireworks or a shooting star.
Ryoma was the best friend I had. We were born within two weeks of each other, so we grew up together. He’d become our class president last year, which was the highest honor anyone could aspire to. His parents were rich, too, so there was no problem financially either. He was popular and well-liked, but I wasn’t jealous of any of those things.
No, actually, I was jealous of the fact that he had such a bright future ahead of him, while I had no future at all.
“So what is it? You’re acting weird. What’s going on?” Ryoma eventually asked me with suspicion in his voice.
This was it. It was the moment I’d come for. “You know what this place is really bad at managing? Their customers.”
His eyebrows shot upwards into shock. He was probably shocked that I’d finally told him how much I hated my work.
“I hate the people who run this place because they’re selfish, self-centered assholes. They couldn’t give less of a shit about the quality of food, service or atmosphere,” I continued, ignoring the surprised looks the others around us were giving me.
But that was the reason why I’d decided I wanted to quit. It wasn’t enough to simply walk away. I needed to get them back for everything they’d done. Even if it was just for one night, I wanted to make sure that every one of them suffered. I just hoped Ryoma would agree to help me out.
“Yeah, that’s what it’s like here. People who think they know what they want don’t care about the details and expect you to bend over backward for them. As if you were their personal servant!”
A smile spread across Ryoma’s face. “Sounds fun,” he replied with excitement. “I’ve never seen you like this before. What should we do? Can we beat the crap out of them? Or maybe we can go on a rampage and tear up the place!”
He looked like he was enjoying himself a little too much, but the idea wasn’t as crazy as it sounded. This was the sort of thing we’d discussed countless times in our youth. We were both misfits; neither had a proper home to belong to and had been thrown out on the street at an early age.
We’d lived on the streets and learned the skills necessary to survive on them. Then, eventually, we became thieves and pickpockets. Our main goal was to rob the rich. We didn’t steal things just because we liked stealing.
We did it to make money and buy ourselves food, drink, and women. We used whatever we stole from the wealthy, who thought they were untouchable, against the ones who actually were untouchable.
We did it for revenge, not for profit or to hurt others, although there were plenty of cases when that happened. The only thing we cared about was getting even for the wrongs we’d suffered, and we knew how to get even with almost any situation. So if someone screwed us over, we made damn sure they felt it.
I smiled. “That sounds like a plan. We’ll start tonight.”
***
When I got back from my shift, I took out some of my savings and paid off the debt I owed the restaurant. The next morning, I showed up at nine o’clock for work and handed in my resignation.
My boss seemed genuinely sad to see me leave, but she didn’t try to stop me. She just gave me a gentle pat on the shoulder and wished me luck. It was clear as day that she’d expected as much, but nevertheless, it stung.
I didn’t have anywhere else to live. My parents’ house was gone, so that left me with the choice of squatting somewhere until I saved up enough money to rent something, or taking shelter where I could find it. I chose the latter option.
The weather was cold, the wind cutting through layers of clothes and coats. I walked down the street in search of a cheap boarding house. I saw many homeless men and women walking around wearing rags, and I wondered how they could be so comfortable in such a miserable state, but I kept the thought to myself and focused instead on finding a warm place to sleep.
After several minutes of searching, I found one near the train station. It wasn’t far from Ryoma’s apartment, so I figured it might not take long for him to notice me. There was no sign outside advertising the property, but I still knocked on the door. After a while, it opened, and a woman with curly blonde hair stood before me.
“Hello,” I said to her with a nervous smile.
She was short and thin, but there was something about the way she moved that suggested a certain grace and elegance. If anything, she looked like a dancer.
“Who are you?” she asked as soon as she saw the bag hanging from my arm.
“Um… Hello,” I answered again, unsure what to say.
Her lips parted slightly. “Do you need someplace to stay for a few nights? It’s only five gold coins a week,” she offered as though it were nothing.
It was quite a sum, but not completely unaffordable. I hesitated for a moment, wondering whether or not to accept. But the idea of spending another night sleeping on the cold sidewalk was too horrible to contemplate. That meant paying for a room somewhere more expensive than the boarding house would be worth it. Besides, Ryoma wouldn’t approve of me staying with his family.
“Okay,” I finally agreed.
The woman smiled at me and motioned with her head to enter. When I stepped inside, she locked the door and then led me up the stairs. We came to an old wooden door with two metal locks, and she unlocked it using a key she carried on her person.
Inside the room was a bed covered in a white blanket, a table with an empty chair, and an oil lamp burning brightly in the corner. All that remained were two large suitcases and a single backpack resting on top of the floor.
“We’re going to keep all your belongings here for now. You can come to collect them whenever you want.”
She pulled a small padlock out of her pocket and attached the end of the rope that ran across the doorway to the lock. I nodded once in understanding and set my luggage down on the ground beside the table.
I’d be able to get them back later, which was good since it was impossible to carry everything with me at once. With that done, I turned to face the blonde woman. “So… do I need to pay you extra for that?”
A faint grin played about her lips for a second before it disappeared. “No, you don’t.”
Then she turned away from me and walked back down the stairs. She stopped halfway and added, “And you’ll have to clean up after yourself, so try not to make a mess.”
When she left, I sat down on the bed and sighed. It didn’t feel right lying on it, knowing that I’d slept in a similar place less than twenty-four hours ago. Still, I felt like I was being watched, so I lay down on my side and tried to sleep.
There were footsteps running down the stairs when I was half asleep, and they quickly faded into silence. At least Ryoma hadn’t woken up yet. As far as I knew, he’d been living alone in this boarding house for years; perhaps his neighbors were used to having strange people moving in and out.
I woke up to a ringing bell. My eyes snapped open and I heard the sound repeated a few moments later. The room had no windows, so the source of the noise was obvious: someone was calling my name. I got up and went over to the door and listened carefully. It sounded like two different voices. Maybe I was mistaken.
That wasn’t possible, though. This wasn’t even the same building, so I couldn’t have dreamed up voices coming from outside.
I opened the door to check and saw Ryoma standing there looking confused and concerned. He was wearing pajamas that I recognized as Ryoma’s from last night, just like the ones I wore the day before yesterday. And there was no mistaking what those were: they were Ryoma’s because I remembered seeing him put them on before we’d gone to sleep.
“Ryoma?”
“What are you doing?” he asked suspiciously.
“Nothing. Are you okay? Where is everyone else?” I wanted to know if Ryoma or anyone else had noticed my appearance.
He shook his head. “Nope. They’re still asleep. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
His face softened, and he leaned forward as though to speak, but instead, he kissed me lightly on the forehead. I could feel tears welling up behind my eyelids. He’d never touched me like that before.
For all the time we spent together, he always acted polite enough in front of his family, but his behavior toward me suddenly became very affectionate. Did he really think I’d run away on purpose? Was that why he was acting this way?
But it didn’t matter because I didn’t care why, and I returned his kiss. Our lips brushed gently against each other and for an instant, our bodies pressed tightly together. Then he broke away, took off his jacket, and laid it over my shoulders as though I’d been freezing, and then he pulled back the covers and climbed in next to me.
It seemed like I slept deeply since I didn’t recall falling asleep. But when I awoke again, it was late afternoon and Ryoma was staring intently at me from atop the bed. His eyebrows rose and he said, “You look terrible.”
“Do I? I don’t feel that bad.”
Ryoma rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you slept through most of the morning.”
“Oh. No…” That was exactly how much time I’d lost. “I see. Well, I guess it makes sense. You did spend almost three whole days sleeping without stopping.”
Ryoma smiled. “Well, I was kind of forced to go to sleep by some pretty awful dreams, but yeah, it’s only natural you’d feel worse than usual.”
“I see.” Now that Ryoma mentioned it, it seemed like we’d both had a rough couple of nights. We’d shared a room, so neither of us should have been able to hear the other one tossing and turning, but we’d clearly heard each other screaming.
Ryoma’s smile turned sympathetic and he leaned closer to me, cupping my chin tenderly with his fingers. “Are you feeling all right now? Do you need anything?”
My heart pounded wildly when Ryoma spoke so sweetly to me. I was surprised he would take such good care of me like that, given how little I deserved it. And yet, he must’ve felt something like sympathy for me too, considering he was willing to risk losing me forever.
But I was no longer interested in what Ryoma thought of me, nor in making him regret his decision to love me. Instead, I pushed myself up to sit straight in the middle of the bed and fixed my clothes. “If your mother sees you kissing another woman, she’ll be furious,” I warned him.
Ryoma blushed, and he nodded quickly. “Right.” He grabbed the blanket from the foot of the bed and covered himself up again.
The door opened behind me. It was probably Ryoma’s mother. She walked into the room quietly and stopped in the center of the room, staring at me with cold blue eyes.
The End