Chapter 10: North Street Backdoor

A sunny day. Heat radiated from the sun, making the air shimmer. Waves of warmth wavered over the particles in Dōjin Market at North Street’s backdoor.

“Aah, it’s too hot outside, my brain cells are frying for real,” Memeko groaned, wiping sweat from her forehead beneath her hat.

“Damn, it’s brutal. We shouldn’t have come, dude. And this bag is heavy,” Blade muttered, fanning himself with one hand while carrying a backpack stuffed with hard drives.

“So… this is the place you were talking about, Tokio-senpai?” Eyepatch asked, glancing around.

“Yeah, that’s the one. This market is oddly underrated, mostly known for junk electronics. People come here to sell old stuff rather than buy anything new,” Tokio explained.

“You know this kind of stuff well, don’t you?” Memeko asked, curious.

“I guess so… I used to come here often for cheap components,” Tokio replied.

After weaving through the cluttered aisles of the market, they stopped in front of a small shop with a fading signboard that read “Dōjin Denki.”

“Hey, isn’t that Tokio Yukawa?” A fat, middle-aged man wearing a sweat-stained cap called out from behind the counter. His voice carried the rough tone of someone used to haggling all day. “It’s been a while. How’ve you been, boy?”

“Yeah, doing great. How’s business going, Mr. Brawn?” Tokio asked with a polite smile.

“Business? Same as always,” Brawn chuckled, tapping the register. “Scrap in, scrap out. Not many young faces in this part of the market anymore. These days it’s just old TV sets, microwaves, and the occasional VHS player. So, what brings you here today?”

“Well, you see—” Tokio took the heavy backpack from Blade, crouched down, and flipped it open. He pulled out the stack of hard drives one by one, laying them on the counter with a dull clink. “I’ve got some stuff for you.”

Brawn raised an eyebrow, leaning forward to squint at the drives. “Hmph. Hard disks, eh? Haven’t seen this many come through at once in years. Where’d you dig these up, boy?”

Tokio gave a vague shrug. “Let’s just say they were lying around, gathering dust. Figured you’d know what to do with ’em.”

Brawn grunted, clearly not buying the casual answer but too used to shady dealings to press further. He scratched his chin, lifting one of the drives between two fingers like it was a rusty piece of scrap metal. “Heh. Still, these old clunkers… most folks barely want them anymore. Everyone’s jumping on SSDs these days.” He smirked, tapping the metal casing. “I’ll give you… let’s say, two thousand for the lot.”

Tokio’s eyes narrowed. “Two thousand? For twelve drives? Come on, Mr. Brawn, you know better than that. These aren’t scrap. Look–” He tapped the label on one of the drives. “Western Digital Blue. One terabyte capacity, still plenty of life in it. And these–” he lined up a couple more with practiced ease, “–are Seagate Barracudas, the good batch. Not the failing series. All tested, all clean.”

Brawn frowned. “Tested, eh? Words are cheap.”

Tokio leaned forward, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Cheap words don’t bring back loyal customers. I came here because I know you don’t waste time with junk. You flip these at auction, bundle them in bulk, you’ll get five times what I’m asking. Easy.”

Blade whispered under his breath, impressed. “Damn, he’s smooth…”

Memeko smirked, resting her chin on her hand. “Bet he’s just thinking about ramen money.”

Blade shot her a look. “Why do you always assume everyone eats like you?”

Tokio ignored them, keeping his eyes on Brawn. “Tell you what. Twelve drives, mixed batch, no bad sectors. I’ll let them go for twenty-four thousand. That’s two thousand apiece. Fair price, considering the market.”

Brawn let out a grunt. “Two thousand each? You think I’m made of money? The buyers these days want SSDs, boy. HDDs just gather dust.”

Tokio didn’t flinch. “Then dust them off quick and sell them to the right people. Data hoarders, small-time repair shops, media collectors, you know better than I do, the ones who still want bulk storage. You’ll double your margin without even trying.”

Brawn hesitated, clearly running the numbers in his head.

Memeko leaned toward Blade and whispered, “If he pulls this off, I want extra chashu on my ramen.”

Tokio finally leaned back, folding his arms. “So, what do you say, Mr. Brawn? Are we doing business, or should I take these to Nanako’s stall two streets down? I hear she pays in cash, no questions asked.”

Brawn’s eyes flickered. The name “Nanako” clearly struck a nerve. He slammed a meaty hand on the counter. “Alright, alright! Eighteen thousand. That’s as high as I’ll go. Take it or leave it.”

Tokio hid a grin. “Make it twenty, and we’ve got a deal.”

Brawn groaned, but after a long pause, finally muttered, “Fine… twenty. You drive a hard bargain, boy.”

Tokio slid the drives closer with a satisfied nod. “Pleasure doing business.”

Memeko immediately threw her hands in the air. “Yes! Kobe Wagyu Ramen night, baby!”

Blade sighed. “All that negotiation… just for noodles.”

Tokio smirked. “Not just noodles. The noodles.”