Gratitude System: From Class F To a God

Chapter 1

At exactly 11:47pm, Hiroshi heard footsteps closing in on him. He was sitting in the office going through the files sent to him.

Hiroshi Tanaka was twenty-two years old, 5'8ft tall, with a thin stature that came from not eating as much as he should. His eyes were always looking tired. He had worked many jobs before now to earn a living and take care of his sick mother, Emiko Tanaka. His mother Emiko had been sick for three years now. The hospital bills ate through his father's life insurance. Then her savings. He even took money from loan sharks. Now, they are after him because he hasn't paid.

The steps were hard and fast on the marble floor.

He had been looking at that same spreadsheet for twenty minutes. He was already feeling sleepy but he did not stop because he had to finish putting the information together before 10am that day. His neck felt stiff from bending over the keyboard. The Kuroda building was supposed to be empty at that time. That was why he worked late at night. No one would be watching him. 

His phone buzzed on the desk. He glanced at it. It was Hana Kuroda, his girlfriend of over eight months now. Her father Lord Kazuo Kuroda owns the Kuroda empire; he is currently working as an intern there.

“Still at the office?" He did not reply. His hands were still fixed on the keyboard. He was typing in some numbers on the spreadsheet.

He remembered the way she smiled when she handed him the login credentials. She was small-about 5ft tall with narrow shoulders, and she always tucked her hair behind one ear. She had a habit of looking away when she lied, and looking away when she told the truth too, so you could never tell the difference.

The internship was meant to change things for him. Hana had said so. He took the Kuroda job because Hana said the pay was good. She said a lot of things back then.

He pushed the thought down and went back to the spreadsheet.

A young man wearing a dark jacket was standing in the doorway. He looked at Hiroshi for a few second and left. He was in his mid-twenties, lean build, with a face that looked like it was used to taking orders rather than giving them. His eyes had something nervous in them, like a dog waiting to be kicked. Renji Kuroda. The nephew of Lord Kazuo Kuroda. Hiroshi did not know why he kept watching. “Rich families had their own ways.” He turned back to the screen.

The boots had gotten louder and closer now. He froze and carefully listened to where the sound was coming from.

"Could this be an invasion? What the hell is going on? If so, how did they get past the security?" He whispered with his eyes wide open and fear on his face.

He stood up slowly and walked out of the office trying to hide. He came out through the hallway and he was immediately caught.

"Hey! Young man! Hold it right there! Police!" One of the men in the vest shouted.

The spreadsheet on his computer had transfers he had been told to log earlier that week. Money moving between accounts he did not know and numbers that did not make sense to him. He had asked about them. His supervisor smiled and told him not to worry about it.

Another man spoke. "Hands in the air now!"

Hiroshi put his hands up. His heart was beating so hard he could feel it in his throat. Three more came in behind the first one. Flashlights cut across everything. One of them went straight to his computer. Another one grabbed his arm and yanked him away from the desk.

One of the officers did not move like the others. He was older, maybe fifty-five, with a thick body that had gone soft at the edges. His face had some wrinkled lines and tired eyes. He was not looking at the computer. He was looking at Hiroshi. He just stood there watching. His nameplate said OFFICER MORI. He did not say a word the whole time.

"What is happening!" Hiroshi’s eyes widened, his voice came out louder than he wanted. "What did I do? I did not do anything! I was just working late!"

The policeman who was at his desk said, "This spreadsheet says otherwise! You have clearly been stealing money from this company!"

"Data theft! Stealing money! All trails go back to your login! See for yourself!"

"That is not right." His voice cracked. "I was just putting in what they gave me. I do not even know what those accounts are."

The policeman pointed his gun and said, "You are under arrest! Think before you speak because whatever you say now will be used against you in court! Put the handcuffs on him now."

One of the policemen quickly put him in handcuffs and shouted at him to move.

They yanked him outside. They were close to the police van when a voice came in. "Stop. Let me see for myself."

The policemen turned and it was Lord Kazuo Kuroda. The head of the Kuroda Empire. He walked toward them slowly, with guards behind him. He was in his sixties, slim, with silver hair combed flat and a face that showed nothing. His eyes were the most dangerous thing about him. Not cruel. Just empty. Like he had already decided what you were worth before you opened your mouth. He owns most of the businesses in Tokyo, Japan. He is a billionaire.

He walked to Hiroshi and grabbed his chin. "You son of a bitch. How dare you steal from me. I will make sure you pay with your blood."

Hiroshi cried out. "Sir! Please believe me. I did not do anything. This is a trap. Those were the spreadsheets you asked me to put in."

"How dare you lie to my face!" Kazuo's hand landed hard on Hiroshi's face. "Are you trying to say I set this up?" He held him by his collar. "You have got balls, little boy. Take him away. We will see each other in court."

The police threw him into the van immediately. The sirens came on and they drove away.

Renji Kuroda, Lord Kazuo's nephew, was standing there the whole time. He did not say a word. He was shaking in fear, not cold. He finally opened his mouth to speak. Lord Kazuo raised his hand telling him to shut up. "I know what you want to say. We will not get caught. Or do you prefer I used you as the scapegoat?"

"No, no uncle. That is not what I want to say. I was just scared that maybe he would get away with this and come back for us."

"What do you mean, young man?" Lord Kazuo chuckled. "He is just a poor little street kid with no money or family name. I even heard his mother is sick. Both of them will eventually die. Case closed. The company needs answers and we have given them one. Easy. I have made arrangements with the judge. He will certainly not come out of this alive."

"Yes sir," Ren lowered his head as he said.

The sirens were loud inside the van. But underneath them, Hiroshi heard something worse. The hospital's automated message from three days ago replayed in his head. "Mrs. Emiko Tanaka's coverage has been stopped. Please contact billing immediately." He had not fixed it yet. He had not even called back.

The next morning, Hiroshi was taken to court for trial. He could not afford to hire a lawyer. Hiroshi's mother, Emiko Tanaka, was lying sick at home. They had run out of money to pay her hospital bill so she was sent home. She lay on a thin mattress in the corner of their small apartment. She had been beautiful once. You could still see it in the shape of her face, but the sickness had hollowed her out. Her skin had the grey colour of someone who had not seen sunlight in months. A sound came from the kitchen. She said slowly like a whisper while lying down. "My son, is that you? What took you so long?" She waited for an answer but got none. She was too weak to get up and check.

The courtroom was cold.

Hiroshi sat in a chair that was bolted down. His wrists still hurt where the cuffs had been. The suit was not his. The public defender had handed it to him that morning outside. It was tight across the shoulders and hung the wrong way.

The judge was an old man. Thin white hair, thick glasses, eyes too big for his face. He went through everything the way someone goes through a pile of paperwork they have seen a thousand times before. Nothing surprised him. Nothing slowed him down.

"The prosecution calls Hana Kuroda."

Hiroshi forgot to breathe for a second. His eyes widened in shock. "Hana! Why are you here?"

She walked in through a side door. She wore a dark blue dress. Her hair was pulled back neat. Her hands were together in front of her. She did not look at him the whole walk to the witness stand.

"Hana Kuroda," the prosecutor said. "Tell the court about your relationship with the defendant."

She swallowed. "He was my boyfriend. For about eight months."

"Did he ever talk to you about money problems during that time?"

"Yes. His mother is sick. Money was always on his mind."

"And when he asked you about a job at your family's company, you helped him get one."

"Yes. I thought it would help him."

The prosecutor moved closer to the stand. "What did you find out after he started working there?"

Hana's hands pressed tight together. Her knuckles turned pink. "He was stealing. Moving money into different accounts. Taking files he had no reason to have."

Hiroshi put both hands on the edge of the table and held it. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together.

"Did you talk to him about it?"

"Yes."

"What happened when you did?"

Her eyes came to him then. Just for a second. Then they went back to the prosecutor. "He threatened me. He said if I told anyone he would go after my family."

"Thank you. Nothing further."

Hiroshi's lawyer got to his feet. He was a tired looking man. Mr. Tanaka, no relation. He stood there looking at Hana for a moment. Then he sat back down.

"No questions."

Hiroshi turned to him. "What are you doing?" he said under his breath. "Say something. Ask her anything. Are you not here for me?"

Mr. Tanaka did not look at him. "Sit down," he said quietly.

The judge read the verdict in a flat voice. Like none of it meant anything.

"The defendant has been found guilty on all counts."

It hit Hiroshi somewhere in the chest. He felt it land.

"The defendant will pay three million credits in repayment. His wages will be taken until the full amount is paid. Class-F citizenship starts immediately." Class F citizens are the lowest ranking citizens. They are being denied of anything favorable like insurance, emergency services and all. Class A citizens are the highest ranking citizen. Lord Kazuo Kuroda belonged to that group. 

Somewhere behind him in the courtroom someone laughed. Quiet. But he heard it. The people in the audience started whispering.

"Class-F has no right to appeal," the judge continued. "No access to public money. No emergency services without paying first. This court is finished."

Hiroshi's face went flat. He walked out in handcuffs. He looked for Hana as he passed the audience. She was in the front row sitting next to her father. Lord Kazuo Kuroda. Kazuo had his hand on her shoulder. His face was relaxed and easy. His eyes were not.

Hana was crying. Tears ran down her face and fell off her chin. She was not doing anything to stop them.

The restaurant was private. Members only.

Lord Kazuo Kuroda sat at a table close to the window. The city lights spread out below him like a carpet of diamonds.

Hana, his daughter, was sitting across from him. She was not eating. Her head was facing down. She kept thinking about what she had done today in court. Hiroshi, please forgive me. I was forced to do this. My father used my mother's health against me. I had no choice. She thought to herself as she squeezed her fork tight in her hand.