Cold Sleep - Chapter 1 - Part 2

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Later that night at the convenience store, there were no customers. It was around 4 a.m., a time when the flow of people typically stopped completely. People would start trickling in again once the first trains of the day began running, but until then, it was what Tohru thought of as a "forgotten time" of the day.

After restocking the shelves, Tohru returned to the register. Kusuda, who had been sitting in the back, let out a big yawn, his eyes half-open with sleepiness.

"...Being busy is tiring, but being bored is pretty dull too," Kusuda said.

"Yeah, I agree," Tohru replied.

Kusuda rubbed his eyes and let out a deep breath. "Today’s the 24th, right?"

Tohru lightly tapped the head of a Santa doll that was placed next to the register. "That’s right. When people wake up, it’ll be Christmas Eve."

Kusuda scratched his head roughly, saying, "Ugh, I hate it. We’re so heavily influenced by Western culture. For Japanese people, Obon and New Year’s should be enough, damn it."

Kusuda had recently broken up with his girlfriend of two months, which had drastically changed his attitude toward Christmas. He had been excitedly planning Christmas Eve with her, but after the breakup, he had turned into a Christmas skeptic. Tohru chuckled, and Kusuda muttered, "Jeez... seriously," as if it were a habit.

"Oh, by the way, I heard from a friend that getting into photography seriously can be pretty expensive," Kusuda mentioned.

"Yeah, I can imagine," Tohru replied.

Kusuda leaned in, peering at Tohru’s face. "So, how’s things going with Fujishima-san?"

"Same as always. Every time we see each other, he asks, ‘Have you decided yet?’" Tohru said with a sigh.

Even though Fujishima had told him to think it over, he couldn’t seem to stop asking Tohru if he had made up his mind about the photography school. Tohru kept replying that he was still considering it, but as the question kept coming up, he started finding it increasingly annoying.

"You know, Fujishima-san seems more like your patron than a friend," Kusuda remarked.

The word "patron" made Tohru feel uncomfortable, as if he were being kept by Fujishima.

"I’ve been thinking about it, and maybe before you lost your memory, you were into photography or wanted to be a photographer," Kusuda suggested.

"I don’t think so," Tohru replied.

"But you don’t remember, right? It’s possible," Kusuda pressed.

Tohru lightly tapped his fingers on the counter. "If I had been into photography before losing my memory, I think I would have felt something when I looked at those photo books. I went through so many of them while I was in the hospital, but I never felt like I wanted to take photos myself."

"Then why don’t you just ask Fujishima-san directly? Ask him why he’s pushing photography on you," Kusuda suggested.

Tohru had considered that. He wanted to ask, but something held him back. Fujishima occasionally brought photo books into the living room to look at them. They were the same ones that Tohru had, but Fujishima had never offered to lend them to him, which meant Fujishima likely owned his own copies. Tohru was sure Fujishima loved photography. Even though he never expressed it in words, the way Fujishima looked at those photo books showed a deep passion and kindness that far exceeded Tohru’s own.

Tohru was certain that Fujishima’s suggestion for him to study photography stemmed from Fujishima’s own wish. If Tohru were to outright refuse, he feared it might damage their already distant relationship further. And the thought of getting into a fight with Fujishima and being told to leave terrified him. With no memory to rely on, being completely alone was the scariest prospect of all. That fear kept Tohru from clearly stating, "No, I don’t want to go."

The sound of the automatic door opening was followed by a chime as a customer entered the store. Tohru and Kusuda both turned and instinctively greeted, "Welcome." Seeing the man in a long black coat, Tohru tensed up internally. It was around this time that robberies were more common, and with the year-end approaching, the store manager had repeatedly warned them to be cautious.

But the moment Tohru’s eyes met the customer’s, his tension melted away. The customer was Fujishima. He slowly made his way around the store, eventually bringing a small jar of instant coffee and some chocolate to the register.

"That’ll be 573 yen," Tohru said as Fujishima fished for his wallet. Living together as they did, it felt too distant to just let him leave without saying anything, so Tohru spoke up.

"What brings you here at this hour?" he asked.

Fujishima looked up. Tohru had noticed during dinner that Fujishima looked pale, but now, his face was even more ashen, with bloodshot eyes.

"I have some documents I need to finish by morning, but I’m too tired to stay awake... I thought I’d have some coffee, but when I went to make some, I realized I was out. The more I couldn’t have it, the more I wanted it, so I decided to take a walk and buy some," Fujishima explained, letting out a sigh that seemed to underscore his exhaustion.

"Work must be really busy, huh?" Tohru remarked.

"It’s the end of the year, so it’s like this everywhere. Part of it is that I’m still not used to the work... But you keep up the good work too," Fujishima said.

The store’s BGM switched to a lively Christmas song. Fujishima reached out to take his change, but his hand paused.

"...Thanks," he muttered briefly before taking the change and leaving the store. After Fujishima left, Kusuda sidled up to Tohru.

"Hey, was that Fujishima-san?" Kusuda asked.

When Tohru confirmed, Kusuda nodded, saying, "I’ve seen him a few times before. From the way you talk about him, I imagined someone more nerdy, but he seems pretty normal."

"What’s that supposed to mean? I never said he was an otaku," Tohru retorted.

"Yeah, I know, but still," Kusuda said, shrugging.

Another customer entered the store—a young woman this time. As Tohru rang up her purchase, he couldn’t help but think of Fujishima’s tired face. Maybe tonight I’ll make something a bit more special for dinner, he thought. Something hearty and energizing... It was Christmas, after all, so it seemed like the perfect occasion. As he handed the change to the customer and said, "That’ll be 1,350 yen," Tohru started planning the evening meal.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

When Tohru went shopping in the neighborhood shopping district, the familiar lady at the butcher’s counter waved the banner of "Christmas, Christmas" at him like it was a sacred charm, pushing him to buy a turkey. When he tried a piece after teriyaki grilling it, he found it tasted much like chicken—delicious. He also prepared cream soup, smoked salmon marinated in herbs, and a fruit salad. With so many dishes, the dinner table looked livelier than usual.

Everything was ready, but Fujishima hadn’t returned. Holding his growling stomach, Tohru lay down on the sofa and eventually fell asleep. He was gently shaken awake, and when he opened his eyes, the clock on the wall showed it was almost 9 p.m.

"Sorry for being late," Fujishima said, his eyes shadowed with dark circles, looking even more exhausted than the day before. As Tohru stood up from the sofa to reheat dinner, Fujishima handed him a large paper bag.

"What’s this?" Tohru asked.

"I bought it for you. Open it," Fujishima replied.

Fujishima seemed more eager to see the contents than Tohru, who had a bad feeling about it. Still, wanting to meet Fujishima's expectations, Tohru took the package out of the bag. But as soon as he tore off the wrapping and saw the product photo on the box, he pushed it back into Fujishima’s hands, bag and all.

"I can’t accept this. Please return it," Tohru said.

But Fujishima didn’t take the box back. "You don’t need to be so reserved."

"I’m not being reserved," Tohru insisted.

The label on the box read "SLR Camera," and from that alone, Tohru could tell it wasn’t a cheap item.

"Think of it as a Christmas present. Once you actually handle the camera, I’m sure your feelings will change," Fujishima said.

"Please return it," Tohru repeated.

"There’s no need to do that," Fujishima responded.

"Then I’ll take it back myself," Tohru said firmly. It was only then that Fujishima seemed to realize Tohru genuinely didn’t want the gift. The face that had seemed cheerful despite the fatigue quickly turned into a grim expression.

"If you don’t like this camera, I can exchange it for something else..."

Tohru couldn’t take it anymore and raised his voice. "I don’t want this camera, or any other camera! I don’t understand why you’re so set on making me take up photography, but no matter how much you push, I don’t want to make a career out of it."

He finally said it. Tohru was afraid of how Fujishima might react, but he felt a sense of relief after getting it off his chest. The truth was, he simply wasn’t interested in photography. He wished he could be, but feelings weren’t something he could force.

"Why can’t you be interested in it?" Fujishima’s expression and tone clearly showed his disapproval of Tohru’s rejection.

"There’s no particular reason, but... it just doesn’t appeal to me," Tohru explained.

"But eventually, you might..." Fujishima began, but Tohru cut him off.

"Photography isn’t the kind of profession you choose on a whim. You need to have a real desire to do it. And I don’t have that. If I go to school with half-hearted feelings, I know I won’t stick with it."

Tohru’s words should have been clear enough. After a moment of contemplation, Fujishima muttered, "But I still think pursuing photography is the best path for you."

Even after Tohru had clearly stated his lack of interest, Fujishima still didn’t seem to understand. Tohru felt anger rising within him.

"Why are you so obsessed with ‘photography’? I don’t want to be forced into something I don’t care about!" Tohru’s voice grew louder as he vented his frustration.

A slight frown appeared between Fujishima’s brows. "I never intended to force you into anything."

To suggest otherwise after pushing so persistently was beyond frustrating. Tohru, in his anger, kicked the low table with his heel. The loud noise startled Fujishima, who flinched noticeably.

"That’s exactly what you’re doing! I don’t have anyone else to rely on but you, and in that situation, you keep pushing this on me... even though I’ve told you I’m not interested in photography!"

"You never actually said you didn’t want to do it," Fujishima retorted.

"I wanted to say it, but you told me to think about it! And after thinking it over, I’m telling you I don’t want to," Tohru replied, his frustration boiling over.

Fujishima sighed, his expression resembling that of someone tired of dealing with a child’s tantrum. This only hurt Tohru more.

"Let’s talk about this calmly. You’re currently working part-time at a convenience store. It’s fine to work outside for a month or two as part of your recovery, but it’s time to start thinking about what you really want to do," Fujishima said.

The words of the doctor at the first hospital flashed through Tohru’s mind: “Think about the future instead of dwelling on the past.” Tohru understood what Fujishima was saying, but finding something he wanted to do wasn’t as simple as it sounded. The conversation was becoming increasingly unpleasant, and he started to feel a sense of resignation.

"Fine. I’ll just keep working at the part-time job. If I get my memory back, I’ll remember what I wanted to do and go back to my old life," Tohru said defiantly.

"And when do you think your memory will return?" Fujishima asked, his tone merciless.

Tohru clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms as he looked down.

"Maybe tomorrow, or maybe never. But I think it’s wiser to focus on what you can do now, rather than waiting around for something that might never happen."

"I’ve told you many times that I don’t want to do photography!" Tohru shouted, his own raised voice startling him.

"Don’t get emotional. I don’t want to argue," Fujishima replied calmly.

Being told not to get emotional only made Tohru feel even more agitated. He was torn between feeling that Fujishima was being selfish and the realization that what Fujishima was saying wasn’t entirely wrong. The fact that Fujishima might be right made Tohru feel even more frustrated.

"Fine, I’ll remember everything! I’ll remember my past!" Tohru shouted, hitting the back of the sofa in frustration.

"And how do you plan to do that?" Fujishima asked pointedly.

The question caught Tohru off guard, leaving him at a loss for words. "I’ll... I’ll ask around. I’ll talk to people I used to work with... anyone who knew me before. Maybe that will help me remember something."

"It’s just luck if your memory comes back. Digging into your past won’t necessarily make that happen. The doctor told you that, didn’t he? Asking old acquaintances won’t help you regain your memory," Fujishima said, his calmness making Tohru feel like crying.

Gritting his teeth, Tohru glared at Fujishima before storming out of the living room. He locked himself in his room, curled up like a hibernating bear under the sheets, and hugged his head. Tears of frustration welled up in his eyes. He cursed his inability to remember anything and blamed his self-centered roommate.

His hunger vanished, and the Christmas dinner Tohru had worked so hard to prepare now felt hollow and meaningless. About thirty minutes later, he heard a knock on the door. He knew who it was, so he didn’t respond.

"I may have gone too far... I'm sorry," came Fujishima’s voice through the door. Even though Fujishima was the one who had caused Tohru’s sadness, the apology brought Tohru some relief. He knew Fujishima was the only person he could rely on. If Fujishima abandoned him, Tohru would truly be alone, and that was something he understood all too well.

If only I could get my memory back... Tohru gripped the sheets tightly. If only he could remember, he would have other acquaintances besides Fujishima, remember what he wanted to do, and wouldn’t have to endure this vague, unbearable loneliness.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The town where Tohru once lived was a two-and-a-half-hour journey by express train. As the train crossed the prefectural border, the rain turned to snow, making Tohru feel like he was getting closer to the inland.

Tohru had decided the previous night that he needed to visit the place where he used to live. After the argument with Fujishima, he felt an overwhelming urge to return to his former home. He didn’t expect that going back would miraculously restore his memories, but he hoped to find some clue that could connect him to his past.

He had tried going through the cardboard box Fujishima had given him, which supposedly contained items he had used before, hoping to trigger some memories. However, all he found were faded clothes and a few dishes. There was nothing that could help him recover his memories.

Even though he had decided to go back, he didn’t know exactly where to go. Fujishima had told him the names of the delivery company and high school for his resume, but just the names. After Fujishima dismissed the idea of returning home as "pointless," Tohru couldn’t bring himself to ask for the addresses of his former apartment or the delivery company.

The next day, after finishing his shift at the convenience store, Tohru went to the hospital. At the nurse’s station in the surgical ward where he had been hospitalized, a familiar nurse greeted him, "Tohru-kun, is that you? What brings you here?" Tohru explained that he wanted to find the address of his previous apartment. The nurse kindly said, "The doctor’s in the back room right now..." and called for his attending physician. However, the doctor didn’t know the address of Tohru’s old apartment either; the only address in the medical records was Fujishima’s apartment. The doctor did give him the address and phone number of the emergency hospital where Tohru had first been taken, and Tohru decided to try asking there.

The emergency hospital where he was first taken was in a neighboring prefecture. Tohru remembered spending a long time in the ambulance during the transfer, but he hadn’t realized it was this far. After a longer-than-expected train ride, he arrived at the station, where a blizzard greeted him beyond the ticket gate.

When he visited the emergency hospital, the young doctor who had treated him remembered him well. "The memory loss left a strong impression on me..." the doctor said twice. Finally holding a piece of paper with the address of his former apartment, Tohru took a taxi from the hospital. Although the taxi fare was steep for someone as financially strained as Tohru, he had no time to waste searching around, considering the return train’s departure time. The driver didn’t recognize the name of the apartment building, but the address gave him a general idea, and he drove off.

"Is this the place?" the driver asked after about fifteen minutes of driving. Tohru looked out the window and saw an old, shabby two-story apartment building standing alone. The sign out front read "Iwasaki-so," just like the memo. There was no mistake. Tohru hadn’t expected to live in a fancy place, but even so, the building looked ancient. After getting out of the taxi, Tohru walked around the apartment. The tin walls were rusted to a reddish-brown, and the front door was just a piece of plywood with a wood-grain veneer, with the bottom part cracked and curling outward.

Tohru felt no sense of nostalgia. He couldn’t imagine what kind of life he had lived in this apartment, even though he knew it was a "fact" that he had lived here. Tohru slowly stepped into the apartment’s grounds. He had lived in Room 2 on the first floor. He thought that maybe the residents of Room 1 or Room 3 next door might know something.

As he raised his hand to knock on the door of Room 1, he paused. From inside the room, he heard a woman’s shrill voice. Startled, he stepped back, and just then, the door swung open forcefully. A woman with reddish-brown hair burst out. She wore a thin sweater, a short skirt, and sandals that looked like they were meant for summer. She spat out some harsh words at someone inside the room and slammed the door shut. Then she turned around quickly, her reddish-brown hair whipping around as she noticed Tohru. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly averted her gaze and walked past him, acting as if he didn’t exist.

"Excuse me," Tohru called out, but the woman didn’t stop. He followed her, and when she finally turned around, she spat out, "Stop following me!"

"I just have something I’d like to ask you..." Tohru began.

"I said stop following me!" she repeated, her face pale.

Tohru was certain she knew him. The look in her eyes when she first saw him wasn’t that of a stranger. Not wanting to lose this connection to his past, Tohru chased after the fleeing woman.

As soon as he grabbed her arm, she let out a small scream and crouched down on the spot. Tohru held her left arm high, like he was reeling in a fish, unsure of what to say to the trembling, frightened woman.

"Please, stand up," Tohru said, noticing her bare knees turning red on the thin layer of snow.

"It’s cold sitting on the ground. Please stand up," he urged her.

The woman looked up at him with clear fear in her eyes.

"You know who I am, don’t you?" Tohru asked.

"What are you talking about?" the woman replied, her lips trembling even more than her knees.

"I lost my memory in an accident. I came to see my old apartment because I wanted to remember my past..." Tohru explained.

The woman narrowed her right eye suspiciously as she looked up at him.

"Can you tell me anything about what kind of person I was? Please, I’m begging you," Tohru pleaded.

There was a brief silence. Then, unexpectedly, the woman burst into laughter. After laughing for a while, she muttered, "You’ve got to be kidding."

◇:-:◆:-:◇

In a rundown café near the apartment, the woman sat in the farthest seat, exhaling a puff of cigarette smoke. She stared at Tohru like he was some sort of sideshow attraction and then, as if remembering something, chuckled softly, her shoulders shaking with amusement.

"So it really does exist, this amnesia thing," she said, her voice making it hard to guess her age. Her voice was youthful, but her tired-looking double eyelids and overly thick makeup blurred the lines of how old she might be.

"What was I like?" Tohru asked.

The woman slowly brought her coffee cup to her lips, glancing at him from under her brows with a smirk. It seemed she was deliberately withholding her answer, enjoying how Tohru fidgeted with impatience.

"When you say ‘what kind of person,’ I have to tell you, I wasn’t that close to you," the woman said.

"Anything you know is fine," Tohru replied.

The woman leaned over the table and blew cigarette smoke directly into Tohru's face. He involuntarily inhaled and started coughing, his eyes stinging.

"What are you doing?" he exclaimed.

The woman, now seated, shrugged her shoulders. "If someone did that to you before, you wouldn’t hesitate to hit them. You were the kind of guy who’d hit people, regardless of whether they were men or women."

She stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray, a thin trail of smoke rising as the ember died. "You were violent, always on edge. You lived next door, and if we made even a little noise, you'd barge in yelling ‘shut up!’ You had this sharp, yakuza-like glare and a foul mouth. My husband and I used to say there’s no way you were brought up right."

Yelling, hitting... Tohru stared at his hands, clasped together on the table. It took a strong impulse to hit someone. There were people who could easily cross that line, and people who couldn’t. He couldn’t believe he was the kind of man who would hit someone so easily.

The woman leaned in, her gaze meeting his as she laughed again, seemingly amused by something.

"So, what are you doing now?" she asked.

"I’m staying with a friend and working part-time at a convenience store," Tohru replied.

"Maybe you should just forget about the past. You seem much more decent now. Maybe it’s a good thing you lost your memory," she said, her tone unexpectedly serious.

"Why not start over? That way, even if people think you died in that accident, at least they wouldn’t be saying ‘serves him right.’"

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Tohru walked slowly on the wet asphalt, now soaked through with snow. The light dusting of snow showed no signs of stopping. His fingers in his pockets were frozen stiff, refusing to warm up.

He had parted ways with the woman at the café, but thinking about his past only darkened his mood. He didn’t want to believe he had been such a troublemaker.

Following the woman’s directions, Tohru turned right after leaving the café and walked for about ten minutes. He found what seemed to be the delivery company office where he used to work. It was a large building, and as he entered, a few people noticed him and greeted him with smiles, "Welcome." When Tohru asked, "I’d like to know about a man named Tohru Takahisa who used to work here," the receptionist, still smiling, tilted her head in confusion. Worried that he might have come across as strange, Tohru felt uneasy. The receptionist said, "Please wait a moment," and disappeared into the back room. As Tohru looked around, he noticed that no one seemed to be paying him any attention, let alone recognizing him. He had imagined that returning to his former workplace would result in familiar faces swarming him with questions like, "How have you been?" and "Where are you now?" The lack of any such reaction left him feeling a bit lonely.

After a while, the receptionist returned with a middle-aged man in a suit.

"You wanted to know about a Tohru Takahisa? We don’t have any record of someone by that name working here. We have a lot of offices, so perhaps you’re mistaken about which one? If it’s really important, we can ask around at the other offices, but we have a lot of short-term workers who come and go, so it might take some time. Would it be alright if we contacted you once we find out? ...Also, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s your reason for looking for this person? Are you from a detective agency?" the man asked politely, though there was a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

Tohru worried whether the man would believe him if he explained that he was Tohru Takahisa, that he had lost his memory in an accident, and was trying to learn about his past. His hesitation seemed to fuel the man’s skepticism, as he narrowed his eyes and asked, "Is there a problem?"

"No, never mind," Tohru said, retreating quickly from the office. The snow outside was falling harder now, only adding to his sense of futility. Finding someone who knew him wouldn’t be easy. Even if he did find someone, they might not tell him what he wanted to hear. "Enough. I should just go home," he thought, as he began walking aimlessly. Just then, a delivery truck bearing the company’s logo turned right onto the road in front of him. He stopped, watching the truck pass, then continued walking. At the edge of the road, he looked around, unsure which way would lead him back to the station.

"Hey, Takahisa!" a voice called out. Tohru turned to see a young man in a brown-and-green uniform climbing out of the truck he had just seen pull into the office. The man jogged over to him.

"Long time no see! How’ve you been?" the man asked with a friendly smile. He was thin, with a face marked by acne scars and a reddish complexion.

"Since you left after that accident, there was a rumor you had died. People were saying you just quit and vanished," the man continued.

"Do you know me?" Tohru asked.

The man grinned. "Know you? We worked together, didn’t we?"

Tohru grasped the man’s right hand with both of his. "Could you tell me about myself? Please."

The man glanced between his hand and Tohru’s face, his expression puzzled. "Tell you about yourself? I’m still on the clock, you know. I’ve got a few more stops to make, and then I have to head back to the office..."

"Where did I work?" Tohru asked.

"Where? Same place as me—Kitasato Branch. What’s going on with you?" the man replied, clearly confused.

"Please, I need to hear about it. I’ll wait until your shift ends, just please, tell me everything you know," Tohru pleaded.

The man’s mouth hung open as he stared at Tohru in disbelief. "Are you really Takahisa? You seem... different."

"I have amnesia. The accident caused it, and I don’t remember anything before it. I’ve been trying to find people who knew me so I can remember," Tohru explained.

The man tilted his head, then after a brief pause, muttered, "Is that true?"

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