Cold Sleep - Chapter 1 - Part 1

T.N: I adjusted the name order to First and Last Name from the original Japanese format, which is Last and First Name. I retained some Japanese terms and included a link to their explanations. While you may already be familiar with these terms, I’ve provided their English definitions for those who may not be.

1. さん (san): This is a general, respectful suffix used to address or refer to someone. It's similar to "Mr.," "Mrs.," or "Ms." in English. It's commonly used for people of all ages and social statuses in both formal and informal contexts.

2. 君 (kun): This suffix is often used for addressing younger males, or in a more familiar or casual setting. It can be used with people of the same or lower status, and it's commonly used among friends, students, or in professional settings where there is a clear hierarchy (like between a superior and a subordinate).

3. ちゃん (chan): This suffix is used to express affection or endearment, typically towards children, pets, or close friends. It conveys a sense of familiarity and warmth, and is often used with people who are younger or of the same age but with whom one shares a close, informal relationship. While it can be used for both males and females, it is more commonly used for females and children.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

TOC Next

Tohru Takahisa thought that if someone vacuumed every corner of his mind, it might feel like this. Who am I? What am I? No matter how much he thought about it, his mind remained blank, like a piece of drawing paper before anything is drawn on it.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The room was empty. Although it was a living room, it felt as cold as a cargo warehouse, with cardboard boxes stacked haphazardly in the corners, affirming the man's statement that they had just moved in. Through the curtainless window, the dark night was visible. The air conditioner started with a faint hum, blowing cold air that hadn't yet warmed up, causing Tohru to shiver. The man placed Tohru's bag by the wall and disappeared into the kitchen. Tohru, still wearing his coat, absentmindedly watched the man's retreating figure. The man was as silent as ever. Before coming here, they had eaten at a family restaurant, but the heavy silence felt almost like a funeral. The noisiness around them only made Tohru more conscious of their quietness. However, it might have only been Tohru who was bothered by it. The man's face, as always, was expressionless, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking. While some people are naturally talkative and others not, Tohru felt that this man was exceptionally quiet, even for someone considered taciturn.

Tohru had been discharged from the hospital about two hours ago. It had gotten late because they had waited until the man finished his work. Initially, Tohru waited for the man in his hospital room, but by late afternoon, he moved to the waiting area. While killing time watching TV, a familiar nurse popped her head in and said, "Oh, Takahisa-kun, I thought you'd already been discharged and gone home." Tohru smiled wryly and replied, "My ride won't be here until after seven. Since there’s still an inpatient here, I was asked to leave the room."

After six in the evening, the smell of dinner being served in the hospital started to waft through the air, and Tohru's stomach growled. Feeling restless as he waited for the man to arrive, another nurse, possibly off-duty and in casual clothes, came into the waiting area and secretly handed him a snack, saying, "This is our little secret."

"It'll be lonely when you leave, Takahisa-kun. Old man Ikegami was looking quite downcast. He thought of you like a grandson."

Old man Ikegami, who was hospitalized for a hip dislocation, was a talkative, sarcastic man, known among the nurses as "the cranky old geezer." Being in the bed opposite him, Tohru had been frequently cornered into listening to stories about "the tumultuous days of the Showa era," and now, he could even recite the names of the old man's air force unit and his second son's grandchildren.

"But when I was leaving, he said, 'Now the air will circulate better without you blocking the sun.'"

Standing over 180 centimeters (5’11) tall, Tohru had often been scolded by the old man for "blocking the sunlight" and "being a nuisance." The nurse waggled her finger and clicked her tongue.

"He might say such things, but he really liked you. While some people requested room changes to avoid listening to his stories, you patiently listened to him."

In reality, Tohru simply couldn't find a way to gracefully dodge the situation. The nurse smiled warmly and patted Tohru on the shoulder.

"It’s going to be tough from here on, but you’re a good kid, so you’ll be fine. Hang in there, young man."

Even though Tohru thought she was overestimating him, her encouraging words made him happy. Yet the thin veil of anxiety covering his heart did not disappear. Once discharged, he would no longer have the excuse of being a "patient." Even if his mind didn’t recover, he would have to return to "society," despite knowing nothing and being capable of nothing.

A loud honk snapped him out of his thoughts. The room had warmed up while he was lost in thought. From the kitchen across the room, he could hear the sound of water boiling.

He peered out the window to see what had caused the honk. It was too dark to see anything. Instead, a reflection of a young man he didn’t recognize stared back at him from the black windowpane. A face he saw every day. It had been almost three months now, but he still hadn’t gotten used to this "face." The face of a 22-year-old man named Tohru Takahisa. His own face. Yet, it still felt unfamiliar, as though he were looking at a photograph of someone else.

The sound of the floorboards creaking made him turn around. The man was approaching with two mugs in hand, the rich aroma of coffee filling the sparsely furnished room. "Here you go," the man said, handing one to Tohru.

"Thank you..."

Unlike the coffee from the hospital vending machine, this one was smooth and delicious. The man walked over to the window and gazed out at the dark scenery, occasionally sipping his coffee.

The man's name was Keishi Fujishima. He was 28 years old and about ten centimeters (3.9 in) shorter than Tohru. He had a slender build, with small, well-proportioned facial features. Despite his handsome appearance, he lacked a certain presence, likely due to his expressionless face, which made it hard to gauge what he was thinking. His hair was always neatly trimmed, and his shirts were never wrinkled. Combined with his expression, he gave off a slightly neurotic, cold impression. However, the way he interacted with those around him suggested otherwise. In short, the man was unfriendly, but it didn’t seem to stem from coldness.

Their eyes met briefly before the man looked away. "I've prepared everything you'll need for living in your room. If there's anything missing, please don't hesitate to let me know," Fujishima said.

"Um... I'm really sorry for all the trouble," Tohru replied, feeling apologetic. Fujishima silently sipped his coffee, offering no comforting words like "Don't worry about it" or "Looking forward to living together." This left Tohru feeling a bit lonely, as if his words were left hanging in the air. This was a common feeling whenever he tried to talk with Fujishima.

Three months had passed since Tohru's memories with Fujishima had begun, but he still felt a sense of distance from the man, and it seemed Fujishima also kept him at arm's length. Tohru couldn’t imagine himself speaking casually with this man in the past. He could understand a "senior-junior" relationship, but when Tohru was still grappling with his completely blank mind, Fujishima had introduced himself by saying, "I'm your friend."

"You must be tired. You should rest now," Fujishima suggested.

Though Tohru hadn't done anything particularly exhausting that day, but the thought that 'resting would make me feel more like myself' crossed his mind, and he suddenly wanted to escape from this uncomfortable space.

"Well then, excuse me," Tohru said, giving a slight bow. Fujishima nodded faintly in response. Before heading to his room, Tohru took the empty coffee mug to the kitchen. Not knowing how to use the tap, he washed the cup with cold water instead of hot, leaving his fingers freezing.

He slung his bag over his arm and rubbed his hands together as he walked to the door that Fujishima had earlier pointed out, saying, "This is your room." When he stepped inside, the room was filled with a gentle warmth, like the first breath of spring. The sound of the air conditioner humming reached his ears as he stood in the sparse small room, where the only piece of furniture was a bed.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

"Who am I?" he asked himself, but the answer wasn’t in any of the drawers in his mind.

Three months ago, in mid-August, he had been in an accident—a car accident, from what he had been told. He couldn't remember anything himself; the details were just stories from others. His first memory was waking up surrounded by machines in the ICU. Everything since then, he remembered clearly.

When he first opened his eyes after the accident, a nurse had asked for his name. He understood that she was asking for "his name," but he couldn't answer because he couldn't recall the crucial detail—his name. The same went for his age, address, job, and family. His mind was blank, as if erased with a rubber.

Although Tohru himself was confused, he could sense that the nurse and doctors were even more perplexed. After some time, a man had entered his hospital room. Tohru didn’t recognize him. The man looked down at him with a tense expression and then confidently told the doctor, "There’s no mistake. This man is Tohru Takahisa." Even hearing the name "Tohru Takahisa" didn’t ring a bell—it felt like someone else’s name.

Tohru was diagnosed with facial lacerations, damage to his right lung, broken ribs and collarbone, a dislocated right shoulder, and memory loss due to head trauma. Although the visible injuries and broken bones had nearly healed in the three months he was hospitalized, his memories remained lost at the accident site, never returning.

The blankness in his memory terrified him. The fear of not knowing where he was born, who his parents were, what friends he had, how he spent his school days, what he had done, or what he planned to do was overwhelming. The anxiety swelled inside him until he couldn't bear it and confided in others, saying, "It’s so painful not knowing anything." The young doctor at the emergency hospital where he was first taken had blinked slowly behind his glasses and said, "Based on past cases of memory loss, there’s no definitive timeline for when memories might return. To be blunt, it could be tomorrow, or it could be twenty years from now. Instead of dwelling on the past, why not focus on the future? ...You’re still young, Takahisa-san."

Tohru felt angry. Of course, the doctor could say that—he’d never lost his memory. How could he possibly envision a future without knowing what he liked, what he disliked, or what interested him? Nothing could come from zero, Tohru had wanted to retort, but instead, he just bit his lip and looked down.

Tohru had only stayed at the first hospital for less than a week. Fujishima had decided on transferring him to another hospital, saying, "I know a doctor there." There had been no prior consultation with Tohru, but he had no reason to refuse, so he obediently followed Fujishima's lead.

During his hospitalization, Fujishima was the only one who visited him. Fujishima came every day, and Tohru had no other way to learn about his past except by asking Fujishima. But since Fujishima was so reticent, piecing together his past took a long time.

According to Fujishima, Tohru had lost his parents early on and had no siblings or close relatives, making him completely alone in the world. He had graduated from high school and worked as a delivery driver. He had been fired from his job following the accident, and his apartment had been repossessed due to unpaid rent.

Listening to this string of misfortunes, all delivered in Fujishima’s matter-of-fact tone, Tohru felt as though he were hearing about someone else’s life. It didn’t feel real to him, so he could only think, "I see." But as his body healed and he began to think about life after discharge, he started to worry about his future. Fujishima had said that his insurance would cover the hospital and treatment costs since it was a single-vehicle accident. However, there wouldn’t be enough money for things like a security deposit on a new apartment. The bag of valuables Fujishima had handed him contained a seal, an insurance card, and a brown envelope with 30,000 yen inside. He didn’t even have a cell phone, so he had asked Fujishima, "Didn't I have a cell phone?"

Fujishima had replied, "You had a company phone, but you returned it when you quit." It seemed Tohru hadn’t owned a private phone. There wasn’t a bank book among the valuables, so it seemed he hadn’t saved any money either. The 36,650 yen in the wallet he had during the accident, combined with the 30,000 yen in the envelope, was all Tohru had to his name.

Tohru thought about asking Fujishima to lend him money for future living expenses, but it was hard to bring up the subject of money. Fujishima was a friend Tohru didn’t remember. He had handled all the insurance and hospital payments on Tohru’s behalf and had visited him every day, so Tohru assumed they must have been close. However, the aloofness Fujishima projected made it difficult for Tohru to gauge the distance between them.

One day, less than a week before his discharge, Fujishima suggested, "Why don't you live at my apartment for a while after you're discharged?" Tohru felt both relieved and uneasy. He couldn't bring himself to be completely happy about it, even though he knew Fujishima was a good person—almost too kind. Yet, the slight sense of unease that occasionally surfaced continued to bother him.

Tohru had once asked why he felt so out of place, inquiring where they had first met. After a long silence, so long that Tohru thought Fujishima might have ignored him, he finally replied, "We worked at the same part-time job." Tohru had wanted to ask more about the job, but before he could, Fujishima left the room, and the conversation ended there. Even after three months, Tohru still couldn’t understand what kind of connection he could have had with a man six years older than himself, despite having worked together.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The long hospital stay had set Tohru’s internal clock to wake him at 6:30 a.m., the time when the nurses would start their rounds for blood draws. It seemed his body clock had adjusted, as he awoke at the same time now, glancing at the clock on the wall and laughing to himself. The room was cold, and he didn’t want to leave the warmth of the bed. He lay there, dozing off, when there was a knock on the door. He jumped up, startled. It was 7:30 a.m. This wasn’t a hospital; it was someone’s home, he remembered, regretting his lazy start to the day as he rushed to the door.

Standing at the door was Fujishima, dressed sharply in a dark gray suit, his hair neatly styled. Tohru instinctively straightened his posture, feeling embarrassed about his disheveled appearance in wrinkled pajamas.

"I’m heading to the office now... I should be back by 7:30 tonight," Fujishima said. After speaking, he handed Tohru a folded 10,000 yen bill and a key.

"This is the key to the house. And use this to buy something to eat if you get hungry," Fujishima offered.

Tohru unconsciously pulled back. "This is too much, really."

"Use what’s left to buy anything else you might need," Fujishima insisted, pressing the money into Tohru's hand before leaving. Even after Fujishima was gone, Tohru was left with an uncomfortable feeling. He had spent about half of his money during his hospital stay on small things like juice or extra bread when meals weren’t enough. The remaining money would have barely lasted him a month. While he understood that this situation was inevitable, he couldn’t help but feel that accepting charity was a blow to his pride as a man.

He knew he couldn't continue like this—living off someone else’s kindness indefinitely. His injuries had healed, and despite his memory loss, he was physically capable. He could work. Determined, Tohru slapped his right cheek to motivate himself, then left the room.

He washed his face in the bathroom and shaved with the same razor he had used during his hospital stay. Feeling refreshed, he returned to his room, changed into jeans and a shirt, and put on his coat. Clutching the key in his right hand, he left the apartment. Looking down from the walkway outside the front door, he noticed, now that it was daylight, a park right behind the building, about the size of an elementary schoolyard.

He took the elevator down to the first floor and stepped out of the entrance. After checking both ways repeatedly, he crossed the street and entered the park. A path circled a large pond in the center, surrounded by a sandbox, swings, and sculptures. Under the gazebo by the pond, two young mothers with children were chatting happily.

After leaving the park and crossing the street, Tohru saw a shopping mall. It was an old one, with a retro look to the storefronts. But it was still early in the morning, and all the shutters were down. Beyond the shopping street was a subway station, with a bookstore across from it. In the distance, he spotted a drugstore sign.

Tohru wandered around, frequently looking back to make sure he could remember the location of Fujishima's apartment. He was afraid that if he got lost, he wouldn't be able to find his way back. He didn’t know the address or phone number of the apartment. If he got lost and ended up at a police station, all he could say was his name and age. A cold wind whipped past his ears, and he hunched his shoulders, shoving his fingers into his coat pockets.

Uncertain about going too far, he turned back before reaching the drugstore. As he walked, his stomach growled loudly. Feeling hungry, he continued walking along the outer edge of the park when he spotted a convenience store diagonally across from him. Drawn to it, Tohru stood in front of the store and noticed a "Help Wanted" sign on the wall. He stared at it for so long that the clerk inside peeked out to see what was going on.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Fujishima returned just before 8 p.m. He walked into the living room, looking tired, and greeted Tohru, who was watching TV, with a "I’m home." He then placed a plastic bag from the convenience store on the small dining table.

"I bought dinner. I’m going to change, so go ahead and eat first," Fujishima said, leaving the room. Tohru quickly took out the contents of the bag and arranged them on the table, so they could start eating as soon as Fujishima returned. There were two bento boxes and two bottles of tea. It seemed that, like many single men, Fujishima didn’t cook for himself.

After Fujishima changed, they ate in silence, without any conversation. When they finished eating, Tohru simply threw the empty containers into the trash, and Fujishima was about to leave the living room. Tohru hurriedly called out to him.

"Can I ask you something?"

Fujishima returned to the dining table, glancing at the documents Tohru had spread out in front of him and muttered, "A résumé..."

"I got a part-time job at the convenience store by the park. It's a night shift, but they told me to bring in a résumé tomorrow. Since I don’t remember much, I’m not sure if I have to include things like my elementary school," Tohru explained.

Fujishima stared at the résumé for a while before saying, "You don’t need to include elementary school. High school and the company you worked for before should be enough."

"High school..." Tohru sighed, unable to remember.

"Shoyo Academy," Fujishima said, the answer coming out of nowhere, causing Tohru to look up.

"That’s the name of the high school you attended," Fujishima clarified, holding out his right hand to Tohru. In a hurry, Tohru handed him a pen, and Fujishima wrote down the high school name and the name of the company Tohru had worked for up until three months ago on the back of a piece of thick paper from the résumé set. Tohru copied it onto the résumé, using the sample text in the set as a guide.

"Why did you decide to take a part-time job at a convenience store?" Fujishima asked. His tone wasn’t harsh, but it carried a hint of disapproval.

"It’s close, and I figured I could make money quickly. I feel bad about relying on you, and I want to save up some money," Tohru explained.

"You don’t need to worry about money," Fujishima responded firmly.

"But I don't like just being taken care of all the time. Also, if you don't mind, could I help clean up those cardboard boxes when I have some free time?" Tohru asked.

"There's no need for you to do that," Fujishima replied.

"Are there things in the boxes that I'm not supposed to see?" Tohru asked, slightly hesitant.

"I didn't bring you here to tidy up my place. You don't need to do anything around the house. Just focus on yourself," Fujishima responded firmly.

Tohru understood that Fujishima was being considerate and respectful of his situation. Yet, it would have made him feel more at ease if Fujishima had just said, "Sure, go ahead." As it stood, Tohru felt uneasy about his role in the house.

"I'm often bored during the day, and I feel restless if I'm not doing something. Is it okay if I clean up on my own?" Tohru persisted.

Fujishima frowned, looking serious. It’s just cleaning, Tohru thought. It’s not something to get so worked up about. After a long silence, Fujishima finally spoke.

"If it makes you feel better, do as you like. But don’t think of it as your ‘duty’ to take care of the house," he said.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Although Tohru was hired for the convenience store job, the night shift from midnight to 8 a.m. was tough at first. He would walk home, passing salarymen on their way to work while birds chirped by the park, and as soon as he entered his room, he’d collapse onto the bed. He would wake up just as the sun was setting and start his day, feeling like a vampire. However, after about a week, his body adjusted to the nocturnal lifestyle.

Tohru didn’t tell the store manager or his coworkers about his memory loss. He didn’t want their sympathy or to become a subject of unwanted curiosity. There was a university student named Masahiko Kusuda, who also worked the night shift, and since he was only two years younger than Tohru, they became close. As they got to know each other, Kusuda started asking more personal questions like, "Where are you from, Takahisa?" or "What club were you in during high school?" At first, Tohru dodged the questions with vague answers, but eventually, he grew tired of lying to cover things up. So, he decided to confide in Kusuda, making him promise not to tell anyone.

At first, Kusuda thought it was a joke and laughed, saying, "What are you talking about?" Tohru didn’t bother to correct him, deciding that if Kusuda didn’t believe him, so be it. But three days later, Kusuda asked again, "Was that story really true?"

Kusuda didn’t pity Tohru for his memory loss. He never said, "That’s so sad," but instead found it fascinating, like something out of a comic book. Given that Tohru was used to seeing a gloomy expression at home, Kusuda’s light-hearted reaction was actually a relief.

That night, they were paired together again for the night shift. The night shift was different from the day shift; despite fewer customers, there were still plenty of tasks to do, like cleaning the store, organizing inventory, and restocking products. After the shift change, neither of them felt like moving around the store, so they sat behind the register, idly passing the time. Kusuda had smuggled in a manga magazine from the store and was flipping through it in the blind spot of the security camera.

"Hey, you’re working the New Year’s shift too, right?" Kusuda asked.

"Yeah, the manager asked me to cover it," Tohru replied.

"I worked last year, and New Year’s Eve through the first three days of January is brutal. The customers just keep coming, whether they’re returning from their first shrine visit of the year or watching the first sunrise," Kusuda said with a sigh, closing the magazine.

"It’s fine. I don’t have anything better to do, and the hourly rate is a little higher during the New Year," Tohru said.

Kusuda let out a big sigh. "I guess it’s better to work than be alone if your gloomy roommate is going back home."

Tohru frowned. "Don't say stuff like ‘gloomy.’ And Fujishima-san isn’t going back to his family. It seems like he doesn’t get along with them."

"Really?" Kusuda said, surprised.

"Yeah, he mentioned that they’ve cut ties completely," Tohru added.

"Cut ties, as in totally cut off all connections? That’s pretty intense," Kusuda said, his eyes wide.

"Yeah, it is. I’m curious too, but I don’t feel like I can ask him more about it," Tohru admitted.

Everyone has their own circumstances, but Fujishima never talked to Tohru about his family, and Tohru didn’t feel comfortable asking. The only reason Tohru found out about the situation was because he had asked, "You’re going back to your family for New Year’s, right?"

It had been almost a month since Tohru started living in Fujishima’s apartment. In the short time he had known Kusuda, they had become close enough to chat endlessly about trivial things, but there was still a sense of distance between him and Fujishima. The gap wasn’t closing, partly due to Fujishima’s reserved nature and partly because Tohru felt indebted to him. Additionally, their different schedules left little time for interaction. Fujishima led a day-oriented life, while Tohru’s was nocturnal. They only saw each other during dinner, but Fujishima rarely talked during meals and would retreat to his room immediately afterward, leaving little opportunity for conversation.

Fujishima always seemed exhausted when he came home from work. It showed in his expression, his downcast gaze, and his sluggish walk—his fatigue was evident. Watching Fujishima head straight to his room after dinner, Tohru often thought, "He must be really tired and just wants to sleep." Being left alone in the living room made Tohru feel lonely, and he wanted to talk, but he didn’t want to hold Fujishima up, so he never spoke up.

Kusuda suddenly spread out an insert from the manga magazine he was flipping through. It was an advertisement for a photo book of a female celebrity, but on the back, there were also a few photo books featuring landscapes and animals.

"Speaking of which, when I was in the hospital after the accident, Fujishima-san often brought me books, saying, ‘You must be bored,’ but they were all photo books," Tohru mentioned.

"Photo books? Were they nudes?" Kusuda asked with a smirk.

"If only. At least then I could have made some use of them," Tohru joked, causing Kusuda to burst out laughing.

"Photo books, huh? That’s unusual. He could have brought you magazines or games, something more entertaining," Kusuda remarked.

"Exactly. But I couldn’t complain since he was kind enough to bring them," Tohru said.

Fujishima had brought more than twenty photo books during Tohru’s hospital stay. The nurses even mistakenly thought Tohru was into photography because he had so many of them lined up on his shelf.

"Maybe photography is Fujishima-san’s hobby?" Kusuda speculated, narrowing his right eye.

"That’s what I’m starting to think," Tohru agreed.

"There are people like that, you know? They believe that if they like something, everyone else must like it too," Kusuda said.

"Don’t say that. He was just trying to be considerate in his own way," Tohru replied, defending Fujishima.

Tohru had never seen the inside of Fujishima's room. While he had knocked on the door from the outside when necessary, he had never entered. Although Fujishima had never explicitly told him not to enter, Tohru had the feeling that he shouldn’t. He imagined that if he opened the door to the room at the far end of the apartment, he would find a large bookshelf filled with photo books, and a professional-grade camera carefully placed on display.

"You know," Kusuda said, lacing his fingers behind his head, "from what you’ve told me, it’s hard to tell if Fujishima-san is thoughtful or clueless, kind or just out of touch."

Tohru thought about Fujishima again but couldn’t reach a conclusion. It felt like there were still many pieces missing in order to truly understand the man. But there was one thing Tohru could say with certainty.

"He's not a bad person," Tohru said softly.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

That evening, after the conversation with Kusuda about Fujishima, Tohru woke up at 5 p.m. with his alarm. He bundled up in a coat, scarf, and gloves before heading out to buy ingredients for dinner. He enjoyed haggling with the shopkeepers in the shopping district as he made his rounds, and as soon as he got home, he started cooking. He prepared the oyakodon up to the point before adding the eggs, planning to finish it when Fujishima returned.

Ever since Tohru discovered that Fujishima never cooked—not even boiling water—he had started cooking for himself. Every night, Fujishima would buy pre-made dishes or bento boxes from the convenience store or nearby supermarket. Knowing that the cost of food for two people wasn’t insignificant, Tohru wanted to lighten the burden of his presence by cooking. When he had asked Fujishima, "Can I cook dinner?" Fujishima had agreed without hesitation. However, when Fujishima saw that Tohru was cooking for both of them, he immediately objected. He said it was fine for Tohru to cook his own meals but insisted he didn’t need Tohru to cook for him as well. Despite being willing to provide for Tohru’s needs, Fujishima seemed to strongly resist Tohru doing anything for him.

But Tohru didn’t want to be a freeloader, living off Fujishima’s generosity without contributing. To counter Fujishima’s stubbornness, Tohru devised a strategy. Instead of saying he wanted to save on food expenses, he argued that he wanted to cook because it was something he enjoyed. He framed cooking for both of them as a side effect of his hobby rather than a way to save money.

At first, Tohru’s cooking was a disaster. The idea that his past self had been good at cooking, that his fingers would remember the skills, was just wishful thinking. He made several mistakes, often dragging Fujishima into the mess. Despite undercooked rice, overcooked vegetables with no texture, and burnt hamburgers, Fujishima never complained. He simply ate in silence, expressionless as always.

Recently, Tohru had started to get the hang of it, and his cooking failures had become less frequent. He learned that as long as he followed the recipe measurements, the food wouldn’t turn out too badly.

That day, Fujishima returned home a little after 7:30 p.m. While they were eating, Fujishima, unusually, spoke up. "I have something to talk to you about after dinner. Could you stay in the living room?" he asked. For a moment, Tohru wondered if Fujishima was going to ask him to start making plans to move out.

After dinner, Tohru made two cups of coffee and sat across from Fujishima on the sofa in the living room. A week earlier, a sofa had appeared in Fujishima’s apartment. The cardboard boxes had been cleared away, and curtains had been hung on the windows, but the space still felt cold and empty. Tohru had casually remarked, "A sofa would really help make this place feel more comfortable." The next day, Fujishima handed him a card and asked him to buy a sofa set. Tohru was afraid of how easily Fujishima acted on his casual comment and tried to decline, saying, "You don’t have to buy one just because I mentioned it." But once Fujishima had made up his mind, there was no changing it. Unable to argue with Fujishima’s stubbornness, Tohru picked out a sofa that was neither too expensive nor too cheap but comfortable. Since the arrival of the retro brown sofa, Fujishima had started spending a little more time in the living room after dinner instead of retreating immediately to his room.

Facing Tohru, Fujishima handed him a paper bag from a bookstore. The moment Tohru saw what was inside, he was overwhelmed with mixed feelings. It was a photo book, the same one that had been advertised in the manga magazine Kusuda had shown him.

"Thank you..." Tohru said reluctantly, feeling obliged to express gratitude for something Fujishima had gone out of his way to buy, even though he didn’t want it. As he flipped through the pages of the photo book titled "Tokyo Scenery," he saw that the monochrome images vividly captured the streets of the city.

After Tohru placed the photo book on the rectangular coffee table, Fujishima handed him a large envelope. When Tohru asked what it was, Fujishima simply replied, "Just take a look inside." Tohru pulled out a pamphlet titled "Suou Photography Technical School."

"This school is about five stations away. The admission requirements are a high school diploma or equivalent academic skills. The entrance exam is in March, with interviews and an essay component, and classes start in April," Fujishima explained.

"Wait a minute," Tohru said, hurriedly placing the pamphlet on the table. "Are you saying I should go to photography school?"

"I think it would be a good idea," Fujishima replied earnestly.

Tohru was taken aback by Fujishima's sudden suggestion, but he could see that Fujishima was serious. "I understand that making a career out of photography would be challenging. But you're young, and it’s worth trying. I'll cover the necessary expenses for school. If you’re uncomfortable with that, we can treat it as a loan, and you can pay it back whenever you’re able," Fujishima said.

Tohru's thoughts raced. He had never expressed an interest in photography or studying it, yet here he was being gifted a photo book and told to attend a photography school. If he had even a slight interest in photography, he might have appreciated the offer. But being urged to pursue a career he had no interest in felt more like an imposition than an opportunity.

Until now, Tohru had accepted what Fujishima offered him and appreciated his kindness because it had been helpful or considerate in some way. But this time, he couldn’t simply say "yes." Beyond his lack of interest, attending school would require a significant financial commitment, much more than anything before.

Tohru avoided Fujishima’s gaze and mumbled, "I’m not sure..."

"Why not?" Fujishima asked, genuinely puzzled.

"I’ve received a lot of photo books from you, but I can’t see myself being on the other side of the camera," Tohru confessed.

"As you study photography, you may develop an interest," Fujishima responded.

Fujishima didn’t seem to take Tohru’s rejection seriously. Instead, he picked up the photo book from the table and began flipping through the pages. His hand stopped at a certain point, and to Tohru’s surprise, a slight smile appeared on Fujishima’s face. It was a picture of a little girl clutching a doll tightly, crying in front of an old candy store.

"I believe you have the ability to take photos that move people. I think you could become a professional," Fujishima said, though Tohru had no idea what made him so confident, especially since Tohru had never even touched a camera.

"There’s still over three months before the school starts. Take your time and think it over," Fujishima said before leaving the living room. Tohru stayed behind, staring at the photo book. He acknowledged that the photos were good, capturing the life and emotions of the people within them. However, he felt no urge to take such photos himself.

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