Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 50. Celebration! A short story to commemorate the 50th chapter: Put the box of tissues vertically!
One thing I’m really glad to have, thanks to 1,000-Yen Repeat?
Tissues.
They’re one of those quiet but incredibly useful things—essential in everyday life. I use it on a daily basis, so I’d be in trouble if I didn’t have it.
And I’m pretty sure that in this other world, tissues would be considered an extremely luxury item.
Soft, thin paper like this? If you stop and think about it, it’s kind of amazing.
Want to blow your nose? Tissues.
There’s no alternative that comes to mind. Tissues are just that ingrained in daily life. Japan is incredible in that way.
Personally, I also use tissues to blot oil off my face. If you split the two-ply tissue into single sheets and press the inner side lightly on your skin, it soaks up the oil nicely.
The key Is not to wipe—just a gentle press. It’s perfect for quick freshening up when you get shiny.
I used to use those famous oil blotting papers with the lady holding a hand mirror on the packaging, but they absorbed too well—scary even.
Also, every time I used it, I was reminded of a novel I read a long time ago about someone who forged a seal impression using oil blotting paper and nose oil.
Anyway, I’d run out of the pocket tissues I keep in my bag, so I decided to buy a box and started digging through my 1,000-Yen Repeat purchase history.
I used to get pocket tissues a lot, so I never bought a box of tissues until I came back to my hometown and started living alone.
Back in college, just one loop around the busy downtown intersection, and I’d receive so many tissues that my bag would overflow.
Most of them were super pink and kind of low-quality—thin, oddly shaped square packets that were hard to use, clearly meant to stand out.
The ones I was actually happy to receive were from a company that was now no longer in business, that had a samurai-ish name and a depiction of Japan’s highest mountain.
Tissues from consumer finance companies were high quality and they give you a lot ofthem too. I’ve seen people receiving whole boxes of them.
While I was cleaning my room one time, I found one of those old packets and had a good laugh over the past.
The package had a bright yellow canola field against a blue sky—nostalgic and pretty. Still feels high quality even now. Super fluffy and big.
Even box tissues used to be larger and fluffier, and packed with more sheets.
Nowadays they’re usually around 150 sheets, but back then, 200 was the standard. I even remember some having 230.
There was a commercial once that tried to spin it like: “Choose this kind with more tissues per box to reduce the hassle of having to keep replacing them!” I got annoyed and started commenting on the screen.
“YOU’RE THE ONES WHO’VE BEEN QUIETLY REDUCING THE SHEET COUNT OVER TIME!!”
Also, they silently shrank the box dimensions. That meant my old tissue holders became too loose and the boxes kept falling out. I ended up folding flyers and stuffing them in as spacers—super annoying.
No, I get it. It’s the result of corporate effort to cut costs. The price of raw materials are rising, and they’re doing what they can. I get it… but let me complain a little, okay?
Anyway, I found a record of a time I’d bought a 5-pack of 200-sheet box tissues for 154 yen, the cheapest. That’s 31 yen per box! I’ve never bought it this cheap before. I wonder if it was a daily special or grand opening sale.
Just one box should last me a while. When the box appeared, I smiled at the size and thickness. Yes! This is what they used to look like. The thinner modern boxes are easier to carry and store though, so I do appreciate that part.
Now, when it comes to box tissues, there’s something I’ve been dying to shout out loud:
If you stick your tissue box on the fridge or anywhere else in the kitchen, please mount it vertically, not horizontally!
Like, I want to go door-to-door telling strangers this.
I used to attach it horizontally—like a plate—without thinking. Then one day, I randomly stuck it vertically—with the eyes facing this way—and guess what? No more crumpled tissues toward the end of the box!
When it’s turned sideways, when there are only a few tissues left, the tissues start crumpling up and coming out 2 or 3 at a time. Then you have to push the extras back in, and next time you pull, it’s a mess again.
But vertically? The tissues come out cleanly until the very last sheet, to the point where you don’t even realize you’ve run out until you use that last one. I was amazed. So smooth. So satisfying.
Ever since then, I’ve become the person who tells everyone, “Mount your tissue boxes vertically!”
So if you’ve got a tissue box stuck sideways to your fridge with a holder—Please try turning it vertically!!
With those thoughts swirling in my head, I opened the new tissue box and pressed down hard in the middle. This made it easier to remove the first tissue.
I pulled out a tissue smoothly and without tearing, then blew my nose one side at a time, huff! huff!
Nice. Much better.
Also…Just realized this was the 50th episode…
Not sure if it was okay to use such a milestone for a random story like this, but…Well, I’d already written it, I couldn’t help it.
Let’s continue like this.
While writing the next chapter, I suddenly got the urge to talk about tissues, and stuffing it into the main story felt weird—so I made it a standalone short.
Looking at the comments I’ve received:
Apparently, depending on the brand, some tissue boxes don’t work well even when placed vertically.
People have all sorts of ways of mounting them—some with the opening facing up,
Apparently, some people put it facing downwards, facing downward probably makes it even easier to pull out the last tissues, which is pretty clever.
Well, in the story, the tissue box is mounted vertically, with the opening facing the user—that’s what I meant.
…Does that come across clearly?
It’s difficult to convey in writing.