Yuuko's Hectic Sunday

Sunday mornings are always hectic, but this is becoming ridiculous. Usually the Shanghai is nice and peaceful, but, with the festival up at the school and the crowd it brings, I've been on my feet running around for two hours straight.

I haven't had this much to do, or this much I could possibly screw up, in months. All the booths are filled with people -few I really recognize- and most of the dining room is crowded with parents visiting for the weekend.

I need this job.

Carrying hot tea across the empty room is usually enough of a clumsy chore, but having to step around and under all these people is making my head spin. Of course, the moment I start thinking clumsy thoughts, my feet decide to catch on someone's foot and I nearly stumble; the tea pot isn't so lucky.

Watching it crash to the floor, spilling its contents across the tiles, I have to cover my mouth to prevent the stream of profanity from leaving my lips. The crowd goes from idle chatter to a roar of gasps, followed by more than a few laughs.

Embarrassed beyond the ability to speak, I duck down and grab the pot, nearly burning my hand on the side as I throw myself into a series of apologetic bows and shuffle toward the back room for some towels.

Steadying myself on the wall once I've gotten through the door, I take a deep breath. As I'm pulling down a pair of towels, the door behind me creaks, and I nearly jump when a gruff voice says soothingly, "Yuuko, are you alright?"

Turning, I recognize Akio Mutou immediately. He comes in here on most Sundays on his way to visit his brother, and we've talked a bit about my aspirations, but he's never seemed particularly interested.

"I'll be fine," I respond, offering another apologetic bow, "it's my job."

"Here," he says, reaching for the towels in my hand, "I'll go clean up that mess while-"

"No!" I retort, "I couldn't let you-"

"It's fine, you handle the customers; this place is a zoo." He gestures toward the door, taking the towels from my hand. "Besides, I owe you for listening to me drone on about my brother."

Usually, I wouldn't dare accept help from someone with my work -certainly not a teacher- but his determined look tells me I wouldn't be doing anyone any favors by arguing. "Okay," I say meekly.

"Don't try to hold the weight of the world," he says as I step through the door, "especially not when you have willing friends."

It's corny and probably not entirely true, but I smile anyway. Feeling overwhelmed most of the time is just something I'm used to, but sometimes I really wish he were right.

Maybe he is...