The Last Resort: Fixing the Disaster I Didn't Cause

My name is Kenji, and I am the "break glass in case of emergency" guy.

In the neon-soaked streets of Tokyo, I am the person Yuna calls when everything goes wrong. Last night, it was her laptop. She’d spilled coffee on it, and her final university project—due in ten hours—was trapped inside.

I had a fever of 102 degrees. I was supposed to be in bed, but one "Please, Kenji, you’re the only one I trust" was all it took. I spent the entire night at my workbench, my head throbbing, my eyes blurring, painstakingly cleaning every circuit board with isopropyl alcohol and a prayer.

I fixed it. I stayed up until dawn ensuring every file was recovered. I drove it to her campus at 8:00 AM, looking like a walking corpse.

"Kenji, you’re a magician!" she laughed, grabbing the laptop. "I have to run to class, but I’ll buy you a coffee sometime to make up for it!"

She never bought the coffee. Later that day, I saw her at a cafe with a group of friends. She was showing off the laptop, telling everyone how "lucky" she was that it "just started working again." She didn't mention the man who spent eight hours breathing in chemical fumes with a fever just to save her grade. I went home and collapsed into bed, my heart aching more than my head, waiting for the next time she’d break something so I could be the one to fix it.