Cold Sleep - Chapter 1 - Part 4

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Tohru found himself standing in front of the apartment door. Even though he had made it back, he couldn’t bring himself to go inside. For almost thirty minutes, he had been pacing back and forth in front of the door, holding the bag with the strawberry shortcake. Occasionally, a cold wind mixed with powdery snow pushed at his back.

He fiddled with the key in his pocket, telling himself he would unlock the door after counting to ten, then twenty… like a child trying to muster up the courage, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

When he looked at his watch, it read 5:10 AM. It was well past midnight, creeping into early morning. The surroundings were still dark. Most people would be asleep at this hour… including Fujishima, probably. Ultimately, what finally pushed Tohru to decide to open the door was the faint hope that the person he needed to apologize to might be asleep.

He inserted the key into the lock and turned it to the right. Normally, there would be a light click, but nothing happened. Finding it strange, he pulled out the key and tried turning the doorknob—it opened silently. It wasn’t like Fujishima to forget to lock the door; he was usually so meticulous.

Tohru quietly closed the door, trying not to make any noise. The hallway was dim, but light was spilling out from the living room. Fujishima was awake. Tohru, who had been taking off his shoes at the entrance, noticed a single leather shoe lying in the middle of the hallway. Just the right one. Its partner was lying on its side in the left corner of the entrance. Fujishima always placed his shoes neatly side by side. Both the unlocked door and the scattered shoes were unusual for him. Tohru lined up the scattered leather shoes and placed them neatly together.

Treading cautiously down the hallway, Tohru stopped at the entrance to the living room. He couldn’t avoid the "Fujishima" hurdle. Taking a deep breath, Tohru stepped inside. "I’m home," he said, but there was no response. Undeterred, he walked around to the front of the sofa and bowed his head at a 90-degree angle.

"I’m sorry for saying those arrogant things earlier."

No reaction. Tohru apologized again out loud, saying, "I’m sorry." The room was silent. Just as he began to worry, he raised his head and heard the sound of shallow breathing. Fujishima was asleep on the sofa, wearing only a shirt and slacks, with no heating on in the living room.

Bottles of alcohol lay scattered across the coffee table and around the sofa, clearly more numerous than before Tohru had left. He was amazed at how much Fujishima must have drunk. Fujishima, shivering slightly from the cold, stirred and gave a small sneeze. Tohru thought it might wake him, but Fujishima’s eyelids only trembled slightly before staying shut.

Tohru turned on the heater in the living room and fetched a blanket from his room. Gently, he draped it over the sleeping man. As the warmth enveloped him, Fujishima curled up under the blanket without opening his eyes. Tohru sat down on the floor near the head of the sofa, knees drawn to his chest. He knew he had to apologize once Fujishima woke up, but seeing him asleep drained the tension from Tohru. Instead, he felt an overwhelming desire to stay close to someone.

Fujishima’s face was slightly flushed, his chin slender, his lips pale, and his eyes sunken. His bangs fell messily over his forehead. Tohru realized he had never taken such a close look at the man’s face before. There was nothing particularly striking about it, nothing special. Fujishima was probably just an ordinary guy, like anyone else. But just as everyone has only one mother, Tohru realized this was the only person he could rely on right now.

Fujishima shifted, burrowing his face halfway into the blanket. His eyelids fluttered, and slowly, they half-opened. He rubbed his sleepy eyes roughly with the back of his hand and looked straight at Tohru. Being stared at made Tohru’s throat tighten, rendering him speechless. He couldn’t say anything, not even the words of apology he’d been rehearsing.

"Welcome back," Fujishima’s hoarse voice greeted him. Just hearing that made Tohru’s heart feel like it would burst.

"I’m home," Tohru replied. Fujishima smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that made him look silly but very gentle. Tohru couldn’t help but smile back.

With sluggish movements, Fujishima started to sit up from the sofa, causing the blanket to slide off and fall to the floor. He leaned forward to pick it up, but his body wobbled precariously. As Tohru watched, Fujishima bent over more and more, and his forehead almost crashed into the low table in front of him. Tohru moved instinctively, supporting Fujishima’s tilted upper body with one arm. The impact made his arm feel heavier; Fujishima was heavier than he looked, probably because he was completely limp from drunkenness. Tohru managed to lay Fujishima back down on the sofa, but when he tried to pull away, there was some resistance. Fujishima’s arm, which had somehow wrapped around Tohru’s back, seemed reluctant to let go.

"Fujishima-san...?" Tohru asked, unable to break free from the embrace. As he stood there, bewildered, the embrace grew tighter, forcing Tohru to lie on top of Fujishima.

"Am I heavy?" he asked, but Fujishima didn’t respond, instead nuzzling against Tohru like a cat. Even though the heater was on, Fujishima seemed unusually cold. Tohru looked at his face, and noticed Fujishima’s eyes, which were unusually warm and pleading. There was something different in his demeanor, something almost seductive in his fevered gaze. Tohru swallowed nervously. It felt like something dangerous was about to happen, so he tried to pull away, but Fujishima clung to him. Before he knew it, Fujishima had cupped Tohru’s cheeks, and as Tohru stammered, trying to say something, cool lips pressed against his.

Even when Tohru tried to pull his head back, Fujishima would immediately draw him close again, and their lips met in a moist kiss. Like an insect caught in a spider’s web, Tohru struggled in vain as Fujishima, lost in a drunken haze, repeatedly kissed him. Once, twice, three times… Tohru knew the person kissing him was a man, but he didn’t feel disgusted. In fact, to his surprise, the sensation of Fujishima’s lips was oddly pleasant.

Eventually, Fujishima stopped moving, his cheek pressed against Tohru’s. The steady rhythm of his breathing tickled Tohru’s ear. Gently, Tohru lifted himself and covered the sleeping man with the blanket before leaving the living room.

The moment he entered his room, Tohru collapsed onto the bed. His face was burning. He was pretty sure he wasn’t a virgin, but even so… he had felt something, even though the other person was a man. When he closed his eyes, he could picture Fujishima’s face as he kissed him. Usually expressionless, Fujishima had looked at him with sultry eyes, almost as if he were inviting him. Fujishima had been drunk; there was no way he realized who he was kissing. Otherwise, there was no way he would have kissed like that.

Remembering the sensation of Fujishima’s tongue, Tohru instinctively covered his mouth with his hand. After writhing in the bed for a while, Tohru found his hand wandering to the heat still simmering in his groin. He tried to imagine a scene with a recent favorite actress in bed, but the image of Fujishima’s lips and eyes from the kiss earlier kept intruding, and he couldn’t shake it.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Tohru woke to the sound of someone knocking on his door. "Yeah…" he responded groggily, pulling the sheets over his head. He wanted to keep sleeping.

"Can I come in?" Fujishima’s voice made Tohru sit up in a panic.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Come in."

The door clicked open. Fujishima entered the room, wearing black cotton pants and a gray sweater, his hair and expression as composed as usual. He slowly walked inside.

"Were you sleeping?" His gaze fell on Tohru’s disheveled bed. Since Tohru had slept in his clothes, both his pants and shirt were wrinkled. Embarrassed at having Fujishima see him in such a messy state, Tohru looked down and muttered, "Yeah…"

"Sorry to wake you. It’s not urgent, so I can come back later…"

"It’s fine, I’m already up," Tohru replied, still looking down. Fujishima hesitated, his head slightly bowed, as if in thought. Then he looked up, his eyes meeting Tohru’s. The seductive look from last night was gone.

"I’m sorry… for everything."

The sudden apology for the kiss made Tohru’s face flush red.

"I-it’s fine. I don’t mind…"

It was a lie. If he didn’t mind, he wouldn’t have trouble looking Fujishima in the eye. The memory of that vivid sensation resurfaced—the cool, thin lips lightly trapping his upper lip and the soft, insistent pressure. The way Fujishima’s tongue had traced the line of his tightly closed teeth, almost as if pleading to go further. Despite having been comforted so much, just recalling it made Tohru’s lower body throb with a dull ache.

"I was really drunk and emotional," Fujishima continued.

If he hadn’t been drunk, there was no way he would have kissed so passionately, without regard for anything else.

"I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable. I didn’t consider your feelings…"

"Really, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it."

The more Fujishima apologized, the more embarrassed Tohru felt, and he looked down to hide his reddening face.

"Thank you for letting me use this," Fujishima said, holding out the blanket that Tohru had draped over him when he was asleep in the living room.

"You were so drunk that you didn’t even notice I came home or that I gave you the blanket?" Tohru asked, his voice sounding almost stupid with disbelief.

"Wait, you don’t remember me coming home? You even said ‘Welcome back’ to me."

This time, it was Fujishima who looked puzzled.

"I said that?" he asked.

"Yeah, you did."

Fujishima kept tilting his head in confusion, but finally, he muttered, "I don’t remember…"

"If you don’t remember, then why are you apologizing to me?"

"Because I realized I was wrong. I had no right to stop you from meeting people you knew before you lost your memory…"

The intense kiss had made Tohru completely forget about the argument that had caused him to storm out in the first place.

"I was drunk… Did I do something so rude that I need to apologize?"

The look in Fujishima’s eyes left Tohru at a loss for words. Fujishima didn’t remember the passionate kiss. It was something that had happened while he was drunk, and although Tohru had been shocked, he hadn’t been hurt. But if Tohru were to tell Fujishima the truth—that he had kissed him so much that his lips were left swollen—how would Fujishima react? Fujishima wasn’t the type of man who would dismiss it lightly with a casual, "Oh, sorry, I was drunk." Given his serious nature, Fujishima would probably blame himself for getting drunk and being inappropriate, apologizing so much that Tohru would end up feeling guilty. Especially after their fight the day before, Tohru didn’t want their already awkward relationship to become even more strained because of an accidental kiss.

The conclusion came easily: Fujishima had forgotten. There was no need to bring it up and make things awkward.

"Nothing really happened. You just chugged from a bottle and left a bunch of liquor bottles rolling around."

The man across from him blushed deeply.

"Sorry you had to see me like that," Fujishima muttered, biting his lip and looking down before quickly leaving the room, almost as if he were escaping. Tohru scratched the back of his head lightly and sighed. If Fujishima reacted this strongly to just drinking from a bottle, he’d probably pass out from embarrassment if he knew about the kiss.

Tohru glanced at the clock and saw that it was already 1 PM. Their conversation had fully woken him up. He changed his clothes, washed his face, and headed to the living room, where Fujishima was sitting on the sofa reading a newspaper. When Fujishima noticed Tohru, he looked down awkwardly, still carrying the awkwardness from earlier.

As the memory of the kiss resurfaced in vivid detail, Tohru found it hard to keep his thoughts from drifting in that direction. He lightly slapped his own cheeks to snap himself out of it.

Looking around, Tohru noticed that all the bottles from Fujishima’s drunken episode had been cleared away. Fujishima must have tidied up. Tohru suddenly remembered the cake he had brought home from the convenience store the previous night.

"Uh, was there a cake around here?"

Without looking up from the newspaper, Fujishima responded, "I put it in the fridge."

"Oh, thanks."

Tohru opened the fridge and found the cake sitting alone on the middle shelf. It felt a bit late, but if he left it there, it would probably just go to waste. He could have thrown it out, but if Fujishima might eat it, Tohru decided to take the cake out.

"Here you go." Tohru offered the cake, still in its plastic container, to Fujishima. The man looked up from his newspaper with a puzzled expression.

"For me?"

"Uh, yeah."

Tohru didn’t need to explain that he had intended it as a peace offering.

"You’re okay with sweet things, right, Fujishima-san?"

Fujishima hesitated, still looking conflicted, and didn’t immediately take the cake. Tohru began to worry.

"Maybe you don’t want it after all, sorry…"

As Tohru started to pull the cake back, Fujishima reached out hesitantly with his right hand.

"No, I like sweets. But why all of a sudden…?"

"Well, um… no reason, really. So don’t worry and just enjoy it."

"Thank you."

Fujishima thanked him and took the cake with a gesture that was much more careful and polite than the casual way Tohru had handed it to him. He stared intently at the strawberry shortcake inside, and then smiled softly.

"I’ll make some coffee. You’ll have some too, won’t you?"

Fujishima walked to the kitchen with the cake in hand. Although it was surprising that Fujishima would make cake his first meal of the day after skipping lunch, Tohru couldn’t bring himself to say, "I’m fine," when he saw how happily Fujishima was preparing it. The cheap 350-yen cake, which had come in a plastic case, was now neatly unwrapped from its cellophane and elegantly presented on a plate.

"Thank you. I’ll dig in," Fujishima said as he placed the cake and coffee on the low table, then thanked Tohru again before picking up his fork. Tohru sipped his coffee and watched absentmindedly as Fujishima ate.

As soon as Fujishima put a piece of cake into his mouth, his usually expressionless face lit up with happiness. He chewed slowly, savoring the flavor. He didn’t touch the coffee, instead focusing entirely on the cake. Throughout the time he was eating, an almost blissful expression, one that Tohru had never seen before, lingered on Fujishima’s usually stern face.

Curious about how good it could possibly be, Tohru tried a small bite from the edge of the cake. The sugary cream lingered on his palate, which he found unpleasant, so he washed it down with coffee.

Only after finishing the cake did Fujishima finally take a sip of coffee. He then noticed Tohru’s plate, which was still mostly untouched.

"You’re not eating?"

"Uh, not really…"

Tohru mumbled, feeling awkward under Fujishima’s gaze.

"Um, if you don’t mind that it’s already been started, would you like to have mine?" Tohru offered, sliding the plate toward Fujishima, who quickly shook his head.

"No, it’s yours. You should eat it."

"The truth is, I’m not really a fan of cake. I was thinking of throwing it out, but that seemed like a waste, so…"

Even as he offered it, Tohru assumed Fujishima wouldn’t want to eat something that someone else had started. However, Fujishima stared at the cake in front of him and quietly muttered, "In that case, I’ll have it…"

He eagerly took another bite, savoring the flavor. About halfway through the second cake, Fujishima noticed Tohru watching him. His face flushed, and he put the plate and fork down on the table, looking down.

"Aren’t you going to finish it?" Tohru asked, noticing that even Fujishima’s ears were red.

"You probably think I’m weird, getting so excited over cake…"

His voice was barely audible, and the sight of Fujishima’s embarrassment made Tohru feel bad for him.

"There’s nothing strange about liking sweets. Besides, most of the famous pastry chefs are men, right?"

Despite Tohru’s attempt to comfort him, Fujishima didn’t pick up the fork again. His delicate reaction to just eating a piece of cake made Tohru glad he hadn’t mentioned the kiss.

"You really like sweets, don’t you?"

Fujishima didn’t respond. Tohru only realized he had embarrassed Fujishima further with his question after a moment of silence.

"I’ve never seen you eat sweets before…"

The more Tohru spoke, the deeper he felt he was digging himself into a hole, so he fell silent.

"My mother was strict and didn’t allow me to eat sweets because she said they’d give me cavities. Maybe because of that, I developed a strong liking for them. Western pastries, especially cake, are my favorite. But as a man, it’s hard to go into a cake shop alone…"

Fujishima’s voice was low and hesitant. Tohru could understand feeling embarrassed about going into a cake shop alone. That’s why Fujishima had looked so happy over something as simple as a cheap cake—he loved sweets but rarely had the chance to buy them.

"Please, eat all of it," Tohru asked Fujishima.

"The cake would be happier if you ate it."

"But…"

"Please."

It was just a cake. It wouldn’t be a big deal if it was left unfinished. Yet Tohru wanted Fujishima to eat it. As Tohru repeatedly said, "Please, eat it," Fujishima, unable to hide his bewilderment, glanced around nervously like a small animal cornered with no escape, before finally picking up the fork. His fingers trembled slightly as he looked at Tohru, as if gauging his reaction.

Fujishima opened his mouth to accept the cake. His lips brushed the fork, and Tohru caught a glimpse of his tongue. The sight of that red, moist warmth reminded Tohru of how it had insistently licked his own lips. The sensation resurfaced, and Tohru wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

When Fujishima finished eating, he clasped his hands together and, with a serious expression, said, "Thank you for the meal." As he looked up, Tohru noticed a bit of cake cream on his cheek. The contrast between Fujishima’s serious face and the cream made Tohru chuckle.

"Why are you laughing?" Fujishima asked, suddenly looking like he was about to cry.

Leaning over the low table, Tohru wiped the cream from Fujishima’s cheek with his index finger. Fujishima flinched back in surprise, his face flushing bright red, like a girl’s.

"Oh, sorry. You had cream on your face," Tohru explained.

Fujishima nervously scrubbed at the spot where Tohru had touched, his hand trembling, and then stood up from the sofa. Without saying a word, he left the living room.

Suddenly, Tohru thought, maybe he likes me. He didn’t know why, and there was no concrete reason… it was just a vague feeling.

Later, after 5 PM, Tohru switched shifts with the evening staff. After changing, he slung his daypack over his shoulder and was about to leave the store when Haruka, a college student who worked part-time, noticed him and hurried over. "Tohru-kun, it’s really cold outside," she said, rubbing her pink fingertips together.

"Is it that cold?"

"Yeah, it looks like it’s going to snow."

Turning to the entrance, Haruka noticed the product display across from the register, decorated with cute ribbons. "Huh? When did they set up the Valentine’s display? Oh, right, today’s the start of February."

The shelves were lined with reasonably priced chocolates, around 500 yen each. Even though it was early, it helped get customers in the mood. Haruka glanced up at Tohru.

"You ride a bike, right, Tohru-kun? It must be cold in the morning. Maybe I should get you gloves or a scarf for Valentine’s Day."

"Oh, that’s okay. I have my own."

As Tohru politely declined, he felt a heavy presence on his back, carrying the scent of Lucky Strike cigarettes.

"Takahisa is fully equipped, Haruka-chan," Kusuda whispered teasingly in Tohru’s ear. "Gloves, scarf, even a knit hat—he’s got it all."

"It’s fine; it’s cold out there. But what are you doing here? Your shift isn’t until night."

"I came as a customer, of course! I wanted to help boost sales. Plus, I’ve been feeling lonely since I haven’t seen Takahisa much lately."

"We saw each other yesterday morning, didn’t we? What are you talking about?"

Haruka, watching their exchange, muttered, "You two are really close."

"We’re homo friends, right?" Kusuda joked.

"Ew, no way!" Haruka cringed, frowning.

"Don’t talk nonsense. See you later," Tohru said, shaking off Kusuda, who was clinging to his back, and left the store. He unlocked his mountain bike, which was parked beside the employees’ bicycle parking area, and put on the gloves he’d taken out of his pocket. He then pedaled off in the direction opposite to his apartment. He had already explored the area around the station; the only unexplored direction was north. But since it was after work, he couldn’t go too far.

Since January, Tohru had switched his shifts from night to day. The pay was lower, but it allowed him to lead a normal life, working during the day and sleeping at night.

He checked his watch, considering the time it would take to prepare dinner. He decided to ride north along the road for fifteen minutes and then turn back. The roads were busy with cars and people in the evening. He weaved through the narrow spaces, pushing the pedals hard. He had fallen in love with the mountain bike at first sight in front of a secondhand shop and had haggled the price down to buy it. His part-time pay was completely wiped out, but buying the bike had expanded his range of activities considerably. By riding around the area near his apartment, he learned the streets, and new mental maps kept forming in his mind. He found that enjoyable.

But mapping wasn’t the main reason he bought the bike. As he rode, he carefully watched for signs along the road—something with a soft color palette, cute design, and foreign-sounding name. It wasn’t easy to find. He was about to turn back after passing the last few shops when he finally spotted one.

‘French Pastry Port.’

The sign, with its retro lettering and rusty edges, hung over an old, small shop. The exterior was tiled, and the lights inside were shaped like orange-colored lily-of-the-valley flowers. Stopping his bike for a quick "recon," Tohru walked inside.

The sweet scent of cream overwhelmed him as soon as he entered. The display case was filled with cakes, cakes, and more cakes. For a shop to have so many left by evening, it didn’t seem to be very popular.

Gâteau au chocolat, tiramisu, crème brûlée… Before he started visiting pastry shops regularly, the only cake he could think of was strawberry shortcake. The cakes, all carefully wrapped in foil or cellophane, bore long, foreign names. At first, he’d almost bitten his tongue trying to order them, and once he had actually done so, yelping "Gah!" in embarrassment, causing a girl in the shop to laugh. Now, he could effortlessly order something like "One Lübecker Nusstorte and one Charlotte aux poires," as if he were a seasoned cake buyer.

After scanning the display case, he bought a strawberry shortcake and a chiboust. The middle-aged man at the register, who looked like a pastry chef in his white uniform, rang him up without a smile, handing over the change with a sullen expression. As Tohru left, he heard a faint "Thank you," but it strangely sounded more like "Don’t come again."

He carefully rode his bike with one hand to avoid shaking the box, so the ride back was always a bit slower than the ride out.

Visiting local pastry shops on his bike after work had become a daily routine. He bought cakes every day but never ate any himself. All the sweet treats ended up in his roommate’s stomach. At first, Fujishima had been hesitant when Tohru started bringing home dessert, but as it became a regular occurrence, he gradually stopped holding back, and lately, he even seemed to be looking forward to it.

Fujishima said he felt too embarrassed to enter a pastry shop alone, but Tohru had no such problem. He could confidently walk in with the attitude of "I’m just a customer." He knew that people didn’t care as much about him being a man as he might think. After frequent visits, the staff started to recognize him and sometimes commented, "You really like cakes, don’t you?" It was a bit embarrassing, but only for a moment.

Since their big argument that had led Tohru to storm out of the apartment, Fujishima had stopped mentioning "photography" altogether. While that made things easier for Tohru, he also felt a bit abandoned. This internal contradiction annoyed him, and eventually, he found it amusing. No matter how things turned out, he realized he was still dissatisfied.

Even though Fujishima had stopped pressuring him, Tohru knew he couldn’t just drift through his days without purpose. He had to figure out his future. But the white curtain hanging in front of him remained, and his impatience only grew.

Amid this vague anxiety, watching Fujishima’s face as he ate cake had a strangely calming effect on Tohru. Fujishima loved cakes so much that his face would light up just at the sight of the colorful pastries on a small plate. When he took a bite, his usually expressionless face would soften into an expression of pure bliss. Although Fujishima was typically stoic, when it came to cakes, his face became a mirror that reflected his emotions vividly. Knowing that he could make someone so happy, even if it was just with a cake, gave Tohru a sense of accomplishment.

That night, after dinner, Fujishima made coffee. Ever since Tohru started buying cakes, it had become a routine for them to drink coffee together in the living room after dinner.

"This one might not taste that good," Tohru warned before Fujishima could take a bite. Fork in hand, Fujishima looked at Tohru.

"It was from an old shop, and a lot of the cakes were left over…"

"Every cake you bring is delicious."

Despite his expressionless face, Fujishima’s words made Tohru feel happy. Tohru quickly averted his gaze, knowing his cheeks were turning red. But if he kept looking away, he would miss out on his favorite part—watching Fujishima enjoy his treat. Taking a deep breath to calm the heat in his cheeks, Tohru heard Fujishima speak.

"Would you like to try some?"

Fujishima offered him a piece of the cake, with a corner already missing. Tohru’s initial happiness quickly deflated, and a faint frown appeared on his forehead.

"Is it that bad?"

Fujishima smiled.

"No, it’s really good. I’ve never had a cake like this before."

Even though Fujishima said it was good, Tohru remained skeptical, considering the shop’s old appearance and the fact that so many cakes were left over. He borrowed Fujishima’s fork and took a bite. The cream was rich but not overly sweet, and the sponge was moist yet fluffy. It was a gentle texture that Tohru had never experienced before.

"It’s good, isn’t it?"

The cake looked like an ordinary strawberry shortcake, yet it was so delicious that Tohru almost groaned with pleasure.

"Yeah."

Satisfied with Tohru’s reaction, Fujishima smiled warmly. He continued eating the cake, murmuring "Delicious, so delicious" repeatedly, completely absorbed in the treat. Normally, seeing Fujishima so happy would make Tohru feel good too, but today it didn’t. Instead, he felt an odd sense of unease lingering in his chest.

As Tohru lay in bed that night, he wondered why he hadn’t enjoyed watching Fujishima eat that day. He couldn’t find an answer. The next day, he went to the same pastry shop and bought a different kind of cake. When Fujishima came home from work that evening, he went straight to the kitchen and opened the fridge. When he asked, "Is this cake from the same shop as yesterday?" Tohru felt a sudden surge of irritation.

That day was no better. Watching Fujishima enjoy the cake only made Tohru more upset. After thinking about it, he finally realized the possible reason: it wasn’t his cake that was making Fujishima happy; it was the delicious cake. It wasn’t Tohru who was making Fujishima smile, but the taste of the cake itself.

The next day, Tohru deliberately went to a different shop. When Fujishima noticed the different cake box after opening the fridge, he looked slightly disappointed. Although Fujishima said it was delicious, he didn’t look as ecstatic as he did with the cake from the other shop. Tohru found that he didn’t like seeing either extreme—whether Fujishima was overly pleased or disappointed.

In the end, Tohru found himself returning to Fujishima’s favorite shop. He didn’t want to feel jealous over something as trivial as food, but it was undeniable that the colorful pastries in the shop window had more power to make Fujishima happy than he did.

One Sunday, since Tohru had the day off from his part-time job, he visited the pastry shop in the afternoon instead of the evening. The store was as quiet as ever, with no sign that the number of cakes on display had decreased.

"I’ll take a Sacher torte and a strawberry tart," he ordered, matching the shopkeeper’s lack of enthusiasm. The shopkeeper, accustomed to Tohru’s manner, handled the cakes with care but handed over the change with deliberate indifference. As Tohru opened the door to leave, he bumped into someone coming in. The impact caused him to stagger back, losing his balance and landing on the floor with a thud. In the process, he accidentally let go of the cake box, which rolled across the floor like a die.

"Oh my, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?" The person who had bumped into him was a well-dressed older woman who sometimes worked the register at the shop. She rushed over, looking concerned.

"Oh, I’m fine," Tohru replied with a laugh, quickly getting up. He was fine, but… the cake box, now rolling like a die, was likely a disaster. He picked it up and shook it gently, but there wasn’t even a sound. The contents were surely destroyed.

"I’m so sorry. Let me replace it right away," the woman said, taking the box from Tohru and heading to the register.

"No, it’s okay, I’ll pay for it…"

It was an accident where neither party was entirely at fault. However, the woman shook her head firmly, saying, "It’s fine." Tohru thought she might be the shop owner’s wife. Unlike the grumpy shopkeeper, she was always polite, gentle, and smiling. She packed a new Sacher torte, strawberry tart, and two mille-feuille into a box.

"Um, I didn’t order any mille-feuille…"

"It’s on the house, as an apology for bumping into you. Besides, you’ve been buying from us every day for the past two weeks, so consider it a thank you," she said with a warm smile, handing the box back to him. Feeling a bit awkward, Tohru accepted the box.

"Do you always eat our cakes yourself?" she asked.

"No, they’re for a friend. He loves your cakes and always says how delicious they are."

"Is that so?"

The woman smiled even more warmly, her eyes crinkling with happiness.

"Are you a student?"

"No, I’m just working part-time…"

After Tohru’s response, the woman nodded in understanding and then stepped out from behind the counter.

"Sorry for asking so many questions. And this might seem a bit forward, but would you like to work part-time here?"

The sudden offer left Tohru wide-eyed.

"The pay isn’t great, but you can take home as much leftover cake as you like."

"Uh, I…"

Tohru had noticed the "Help Wanted" sign in the store’s window, but it was torn and yellowed, giving the impression that they weren’t actively seeking anyone. As Tohru hesitated to respond, the woman sighed, "I guess it’s no good, huh…"

"I’m going to be hospitalized next month. It’s not a major surgery, but I’ll be away for about a month, and I’m worried about the store…"

"I don’t need any help!" a loud voice boomed from the back of the store. Tohru instinctively straightened up, and the woman let out a weary sigh.

"He’s terrible at dealing with customers. He thinks he’s just being normal, but people often leave the shop angry. It’s really a problem. So, if you don’t mind, could you ask around and see if any of your friends might be interested in a part-time job at a cake shop?"

Tohru was comfortable with his job at the convenience store, but he knew that convenience store jobs were easily replaceable. This shop, however, seemed like it would genuinely struggle without some help. The woman must have been desperate to ask a customer she barely knew for help.

It was a small, old shop, but being "needed" felt good. And this was a pastry shop—one that Fujishima loved. Plus, she’d said he could take home leftover cakes, which meant he could bring cakes home for Fujishima without worrying about his allowance.

It didn’t take long for Tohru to reconcile with the cakes he had previously resented.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

That night, after a quiet dinner with Fujishima, Tohru brought up the topic.

"I quit my part-time job at the convenience store today."

Fujishima lifted his head, placing his chopsticks down as he straightened up, ready to have a serious conversation. Seeing him so formal made Tohru feel a bit awkward.

"Starting tomorrow, I’ll be working part-time at ‘Port,’ the pastry shop where I’ve been buying those cakes. My hours won’t change, so I’ll be home at the same time."

Fujishima furrowed his brows slightly, as if in deep thought. Tohru waited anxiously for his roommate’s next words.

"Is that what you want to do?"

It wasn’t about wanting to or not—he was just switching from the convenience store to a pastry shop. But being needed felt more meaningful than working a job where he could be easily replaced.

"It’s not like it’s something I’m dying to do, but I think it’s a better fit."

After a long silence, Fujishima finally muttered, "If it’s what you want, then go ahead and try it." He didn’t oppose the idea, but he didn’t seem entirely enthusiastic about Tohru’s new job either. Tohru wondered what exactly Fujishima expected from him, what would satisfy him. Since their argument, neither of them had mentioned photography. Although Fujishima never explicitly told him to find something new, there was an unspoken pressure that Tohru couldn’t shake.

Noticing Fujishima’s somewhat grim expression, Tohru forced a cheerful tone, saying, "I’ll be bringing home lots of leftover cakes," trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere.

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