By the time he’d finished laboring with the “Meeting Room B” sign, and hammers and nails from one of several tool kits Sasaki had produced, Reika was much less enthusiastic than he had been when he had begun. His mood had little to do with the foundation of the new company, however, and much to do with the irritating pains of bruised fingers, several scratches, and a pair of broken nails.
The bruising and scratches were gone in minutes, but the brevity and intangibility of the wounds didn’t make them any less aggravating when applied in succession. He was no handyman, as evidenced by his clumsy fumbling of nails and missed strokes of the hammer. It was the broken fingernails that solidified his frown, though. For all that guitar strings were hell on the nails, he hated dealing with split
