Expired First Love: Section 2 - chapter 6

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It was a cold day in early March, with a light snowfall. Murakami returned home for the first time in a while, full of enthusiasm, but when he rang the doorbell, there was no answer. Using his spare key, he unlocked the door and called out, "I’m home..." as he walked down the dim hallway. But the sight that greeted him froze him in place. The keys slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.

Hanging from the railing of the staircase in front of him were two long, thin figures. It took a moment for his mind to process the fact that his parents had hanged themselves. Their necks stretched unnaturally like chickens, and a puddle had formed beneath their feet, which dangled in the air.

Sometimes, scenes like this are shown in dramas and movies. Even when hearing news reports about celebrities who have hanged themselves, it always felt distant from his world. But now, it was right in front of him—something that shouldn’t be here.

Murakami’s parents’ bodies swayed gently. Suddenly snapping back to reality, Murakami dashed into the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and ran up the stairs with a loud clatter. “I-I’ll get you down right away,” he said as he cut through the orange nylon rope strangling their necks.

With a heavy thud, his parents’ bodies fell to the floor like luggage, collapsing in a heap. Yet they made no sound of pain. Murakami rushed to their side. The sharp stench of urine and feces filled the air. Their eyes bulged out, and their tongues lolled out from their gaping mouths...

"Mom! Dad!" He called out to them repeatedly, shook their bodies, but the people who had raised him gave no response. They didn’t speak. Their bodies just jerked like dolls.

The weight of death—the reality of it—pressed down on him. It didn’t make sense... He couldn’t understand why this had happened. Murakami let go. The silence was terrifying. The only sound was his own breathing. This was death in its complete form. Faced with this scene of utter despair, Murakami let out a scream like a wild animal.

...The deaths of his parents were determined to be suicides due to the collapse of their business. Despite having debts of about 450 million yen, they hadn’t confided in him at all. After all, how could they have possibly consulted their unemployed son about their debts?

In the note his parents had left behind, they ended with the words, "Please forgive our weakness." Clutching the note, Murakami cried until he thought his eyes would melt. If only he had cast aside his pride and quickly found a job to ease their worries, things might have been different. If only he had given them money or returned home more often, maybe he would have noticed the changes in his parents. Then, perhaps, he could have helped them...

All that filled his mind was regret—what he could have done differently. No matter how much debt they had, they didn’t have to die. If they had just stayed alive, if they had just been there, he would have done anything. He would have done anything...

The funeral was a private affair. His father had been an only child, with both parents already deceased, and on his mother’s side, only her sister and brother-in-law attended. Including Murakami, there were just four people to see them off. It was a lonely funeral, unimaginable for parents who had once been so cheerful and social.

As his parents had written in their note, Murakami used their life insurance to pay off the massive debt and used what was left to pay the overdue wages of the company’s employees. The company and the house had both been collateral for the debt, so nothing remained.

After all the procedures and cleanup were finished, it felt as though the taut string inside him had snapped, and he lost the will to do anything. He spent his days sitting around aimlessly. Before he knew it, night had fallen, and then morning came again.

Whenever he recalled his parents' final moments, the tears wouldn’t stop. Sometimes, he would dream of them. In his dreams, he desperately tried to convince them not to die, but they would only smile in response.

No matter how much time passed, the sadness and regret didn’t fade. The final scene kept replaying in his mind as if it had just happened. It was unbearable. He wanted to forget. He didn’t want to forget, but he wanted to. The pain of being unable to forget was excruciating.

Hinano came by and cooked for him, and he would eat when she did, but otherwise, he was too apathetic to do anything and would get by on just water. He lost weight, and his limbs became disturbingly thin. His girlfriend stayed by his side the whole time. When he cried, she comforted him, and when he said he was lonely, she held him. But even her kindness couldn’t fill the hollow that had opened up inside him.

Concerned about his depression, Kagami took him out on a sunny day in May. The sun was strong, and as he looked at his shadow on the asphalt, he felt a slight dizziness.

Lunch at a hidden gem of a diner, his friend's smile, TV gossip, someone’s rumor—it all felt soft-focused, blurry, and unreal, as if it were happening to someone else.

Kagami had to go to work despite it being a day off due to some trouble at the company. He apologized, saying, "Sorry about this," but... honestly, Murakami didn’t care. Kagami dropped him off near his apartment, and Murakami watched his car drive away.

The sunlight, even in the late afternoon, was still piercing, and Murakami’s legs, unused to walking, felt as heavy as if they were weighed down with lead. Feeling dizzy again, he leaned against a nearby vending machine. He needed to rest for a while, or he wouldn’t be able to make it home.

Looking around for somewhere to sit, Murakami’s eyes landed on a pachinko parlor sign. He had been invited to play twice during his student days but hadn’t won anything, and he didn’t like the smell of cigarettes, so he never went back.

Drawn in, he entered the parlor and sat down at a random machine. The air conditioning inside was cool, and the chaotic noise of electronic sounds layered upon each other was so loud it almost hurt his ears, drowning out his thoughts. It was a relief not to have to think.

"Excuse me, if you’re just taking a break, please use the designated area," a staff member said, tapping him on the shoulder. Murakami had no idea how long he had been sitting there. He remembered this was a pachinko parlor. He inserted a 1,000 yen bill into the slot on his left and started playing. It didn’t matter whether he won or lost. He just wanted to stay in this flood of noise and not think about anything. Even though he had only put in 1,000 yen, the balls kept coming. He kept playing until closing time, eventually earning 10,000 yen. Even after leaving the parlor, the echoes of the noise lingered in his ears.

It wasn’t about making money; it was the relief of not having to think. Murakami started going to the pachinko parlor regularly. He would sit in front of the same machine from opening to closing. He became more careful in choosing his machine, trying to stretch his limited funds as long as possible.

From morning till night, he was surrounded by waves of noise. Even after the pachinko parlor closed, he could avoid thinking about his parents if he went to sleep right away without dreaming. Murakami used the pachinko parlor to create a system where he could avoid thinking.

No matter how carefully he chose the machines, playing from morning till night usually resulted in a loss. It was rare to end up in the positive. He started dipping into his savings bit by bit. The money continued to dwindle in exchange for his escape from pain.

The awareness that he needed to work lingered in the back of his mind. He knew he couldn’t continue living like this forever. Still, when his mind had any free time, it was agonizing to think about his parents. So, he sought refuge in the flood of noise. He played pachinko to escape.

One time, Hinano, perhaps suspicious of why he wasn’t coming home until nearly midnight, asked him, "What have you been doing?" Embarrassed to say pachinko, he lied, saying it was a part-time job, and she believed him.

Despite his dwindling savings and anxiety about life, he continued going to pachinko. He kept telling himself that if he won, his worries would disappear. But contrary to his wishes, the money vanished as if it were being sucked into the machine like smoke.

Thinking that a different pachinko parlor might be luckier, he tried another place. However, he still lost money wherever he went. This new pachinko parlor had a consumer finance office on the second floor. In his student days, he had looked down on people who borrowed money from places like that, thinking they were weak-willed. Yet, despite his hesitation, he found himself stepping into the office. He was that terrified of losing his access to the pachinko parlor.

Even though he was unemployed, the approval process was easy, and he was able to borrow money. The first time, he borrowed 10,000 yen. He still felt some resistance to borrowing money and told himself he would repay it before things got out of hand. However, without hitting any jackpots, he couldn’t repay the money, and his debt gradually increased. Eventually, he even started covering his living expenses with borrowed money. His resistance to borrowing weakened as the fear of not being able to repay grew. Soon, the bills started arriving, but rather than facing the reality, he convinced himself that he could pay them off with just one win at pachinko.

Around this time, Hinano discovered his debt. She saw the bills from the consumer finance company while he was out playing pachinko.

"Murakami-kun, what have you been spending money on?"

A year had passed since his parents’ death. The misfortune that had befallen him was terrible, but a year was more than enough time to get his feelings in order. He knew this better than anyone. He also knew that his addiction to pachinko made him a failure. So when she asked him, "What are you spending money on?" he snapped.

"Don’t interfere in what I’m doing!"

He yelled at her. He had never raised his voice to her before. Hinano’s eyes widened in shock, and she began to tremble and cry silently. Not wanting to see her like that, he left the apartment. And, of course, he ended up at the pachinko parlor again. With almost no money left, he left after two hours. The lights in the apartment were off when he returned from a distance, and Hinano had already gone home. Secretly, he felt relieved.

From then on, his relationship with Hinano became strained. Though she didn’t complain, she began looking at Murakami with fearful eyes, which only irritated him further. Despite this, she continued to stay over, and they had sex. Sleeping was easy. As long as the room was dark, he didn’t have to see her frightened face, and there was no need to force a conversation.

It was a gloomy morning on a rainy day off. Hinano was still asleep beside him. Lately, he had started feeling that being together, despite loving her, was becoming a burden. He didn’t want to think about why that was. Not wanting to think about it, he wanted to go to pachinko where he didn’t have to think about anything. But he had no money. Not even a hundred yen in his wallet. He’d have to borrow again...

On the table lay Hinano’s wallet and cell phone. His eyes fixated on the pink wallet. He stopped himself from thinking. No, that’s absolutely not okay. No, it’s definitely wrong. His conscience tried to stop him. But maybe just a thousand yen...

He turned away from the wallet, but his body itched. That’s right, he wasn’t taking it, he was just borrowing it. He was only going to borrow a thousand yen from Hinano. He’d win at pachinko and then pay it back. He wasn’t stealing.

After about thirty minutes of hesitation, Murakami, trembling, pulled a thousand yen out of Hinano’s wallet and left the house in a hurry. His heart pounded as if someone was telling him, "You’re a piece of trash." He couldn’t afford to lose. He picked his machine with determination, but the result was a miserable defeat. When he returned to the apartment in the early afternoon, Hinano was waiting for him with lunch prepared.

"I went for a walk," he lied. She smiled and said, "Even though the weather’s bad?" She didn’t seem to notice that the bill was missing. He silently apologized to her innocent profile, promising that he’d pay back the borrowed thousand yen next time.

After that, whenever Hinano stayed over, he started "borrowing" money from her wallet. Every time, he would speak to the pink wallet, saying, "I’ll definitely pay it back today." But that promise was never kept, and soon the amount increased from a thousand to two thousand yen. Even when he took ten thousand yen, Hinano didn’t say anything.

A year and five months after his parents’ death, Murakami still hadn’t secured a steady job, and his debt had ballooned to a million yen. He began to avoid meeting Kagami and his other former classmates. Even when they invited him out, he would decline, saying he wasn’t feeling well. When he compared himself to those who were working and living bright, successful lives, his own miserable failure stood out even more. So, he went to pachinko. The noise of pachinko was the only thing that felt like it belonged to someone as pathetic as him.

On a brutally hot summer day, Hinano called him out. He felt like he was about to hit a jackpot if he kept trying, but it never came, and he ended up being an hour late to the family restaurant where they were supposed to meet. Hinano was there with Kagami’s girlfriend, Miku. Miku, with her short haircut and straightforward personality, was the complete opposite of the quiet Hinano. But Hinano admired Miku’s older-sister-like nature, and they were close. In their student days, Kagami, Miku, Hinano, and Murakami had often gone on trips together.

When Miku saw his face, she murmured, "Murakami-kun, you’ve really changed."

Although they were acquaintances, there was a noticeable tension in the way Miku looked at him.

Hinano had a troubled expression from the start. Then, as if encouraged by Miku, she said, "Murakami-kun, I want you to stop playing pachinko." In an unusually strong tone, Hinano pleaded, "I want you to go back to the way you were."

When did she realize I was going to pachinko? Did she know all along and stay silent? Irritation rapidly swelled up inside me, becoming unbearable. I slammed the table with both hands. The glass filled with water wobbled like a top, and Hinano and Miku flinched in fear.

"...What do you mean, the way I was before?"

I could see Hinano swallow nervously.

"I don't understand. Whether it's before or now, I'm still me. Or what, is it that you hate that I'm unemployed? If you hate being with an unemployed guy, why don't you just say so?"

Hinano’s fingers, clasped together on the table, started to tremble. Annoyed by the sight of her about to cry, I shouted, "If you have something to say, just say it!"

Tears welled up in Hinano's large eyes and began to spill over.

"Murakami-kun, you’re scaring me."

Covering her face with both hands, Hinano began to cry. Miku, who was sitting beside her, intervened, saying, "Don't yell at her like that."

"Hinano is worried about you, Murakami-kun. You know you can’t keep going on like this, right?"

"Our relationship is none of your business, Miku."

Miku bit her lip and glared at me.

"I didn’t want to say this, but… taking money from your girlfriend’s wallet isn’t normal."

I swallowed hard, feeling a cold sweat run down my back. I knew taking money was wrong. But Hinano never said anything. So, so... Hearing the harsh reality pointed out to me, I realized how far I had strayed from normalcy.

"I believe in you, Murakami-kun. But when I hear that you've been taking money from someone’s wallet, it makes me doubt whether you really did something wrong at the job you lost. That’s how much trust you've lost now, Murakami-kun."

Even though I knew deep down that I was entirely in the wrong, shame transformed into a blazing anger.

"Shut the hell up!"

I bared my teeth and yelled, then grabbed a glass from the table and smashed it against the floor with force. The glass shattered with a loud crash, and the entire café fell silent. Miku’s face turned pale, and her mouth began to tremble. Even though she was a woman, even though she was Kagami's girlfriend, a wild urge to punch her surged within me.

To avoid hitting her, I stood up and left the café, leaving the two of them behind. I headed straight to the pachinko parlor and played furiously, trying to vent my frustration.

After that incident, Hinano stopped coming to my place. About two weeks later, I received an email saying, "I'm scared of meeting you, Murakami-kun. I still like you, but I’m scared. So… I’m sorry." In the end, that’s how our relationship ended.

Even Hinano abandoned me. Not wanting to face that reality, I immersed myself in pachinko more than ever before. The debt collectors started coming to my apartment, so I couldn’t stay at home. I holed up in the pachinko parlor from morning till night. I was three months behind on rent, and the landlord told me, "If you don’t pay the rent by next week, you’ll have to leave."

It was October, and the wind was getting colder. One Sunday, I woke up just before noon, left the house without combing my hair or washing my face, and headed outside with just my jacket on. I convinced myself that if I won today, I could pay off my debt and escape this situation. The jangling noise of the pachinko parlor echoed in my head like the prelude to a battle.

"Isn't that Murakami-san?"

I was stopped in front of the station. It was a junior from my university camping club, someone I hadn’t seen since graduation. He hurried over to me and, with concern in his voice, said, "You’ve lost a lot of weight. Are you feeling okay?"

He invited me to chat, and although I wanted to go to pachinko, my past self, the one who used to look after others, surfaced, and I agreed to join him at a café. I ended up talking about how I had been forced to leave my job and about my parents. My junior was deeply sympathetic. He was well-dressed, wearing a clean, wrinkle-free shirt and pants, and even his glasses had a designer logo on them. He looked like he had money. Maybe he could lend me some... I thought. But I couldn’t tell him I needed it for pachinko.

I’ll pay it back later. I’m not planning to run off with it. As I made excuses to myself, I put on a serious expression and said, "Actually..."

"They found stomach cancer, and I need surgery, but I don’t have the money."

I deliberately spoke in a dark tone. My junior was shocked and, with a serious look on his face, asked, "How much do you need?" I cautiously replied, "About 200,000 yen." He said, "Wait here for a moment," and left the café. Less than ten minutes later, he returned with an envelope from the bank and handed it to me.

"From the moment I first saw you, I thought you didn’t look well. Here, I’m lending this to you. You can pay me back whenever, but please, get well soon."

There were even tears in his eyes, and he didn’t show the slightest doubt about me. After parting ways with him, I went to the pachinko parlor, gripped by guilt, and sat down in front of a machine. The moment I started playing, I forgot all about whose money it was.

I realized I could borrow money if I mentioned an illness. Getting a taste for it, I started calling up other juniors from university and borrowing money. At first, it worked well, but when you borrow repeatedly from the same person, they start to think something’s off. Soon, they began asking me to pay it back. When they did, I would yell at them, "Shut up!" and cut off all contact, leaving me unreachable.

At first, it was just juniors, but eventually, I started begging for money from classmates and even close friends like Kagami. What had started as a way to forget painful memories had turned into a goal of playing pachinko itself. I had no pride left. I kept repeating the same thing until no one I knew would lend me money anymore.

Unable to pay the rent, I was finally kicked out of the apartment with just a backpack. I had already pawned everything of value for pachinko, so there was nothing left. On a cold winter day, I slept under a cardboard box at a subway station, mingling with the sour, foul-smelling homeless.

The misery made me want to cry. Why was I sleeping on the street? It was because there was no one left to lend me money. If only I could have borrowed some money, I wouldn’t have ended up like this. It was cold and stank. I hated it. The next morning, I wandered around the station, starving. I found a coin purse lying in the bushes. I hurriedly picked it up and ran. My heart was pounding. When I checked it in a secluded spot, it contained a single 1,000 yen bill and 256 yen in coins. I bought two pieces of bread at a convenience store and stuffed them into my stomach while drinking water in the park. Then, clutching the remaining money, I entered the pachinko parlor. Looking back now, I realize that I was completely insane at that time.

I lived as a homeless person for about two years. I would work a day job, earn some cash, and go to the pachinko parlor the next day. The following day, I would work again... and repeated this cycle. Sometimes, I’d move in with a woman who liked taking care of others, but in the end, I’d always be called "a good-for-nothing" and get kicked out. Then, I’d go back to being homeless... and the cycle would start again.

Suddenly, a bento box and a bottle of tea were placed in front of me, snapping me back to reality. My fingers mechanically scanned the items at the register, and I heard myself asking, "Would you like your bento warmed up?" without thinking. There was no response. I looked up and locked eyes with a young office worker standing across from me. He looked at me with a somewhat fearful expression.

It was Takechi, my junior. I let out a small "Ah" in surprise. I had borrowed money from Takechi and never paid it back. A wave of awkwardness enveloped me instantly. I clenched my teeth and looked at his face.

"It’s been a while... What about your bento?"

Without looking up, Takechi muttered, "No need to warm it up." I put the bento and tea into a plastic bag and processed the payment via electronic money. Takechi then said, "Well," and hurried out of the convenience store, almost as if fleeing.

"I need to go to the bathroom for a bit," I said, tapping Ichou on the shoulder before rushing out of the store. Takechi was walking with the plastic bag in one hand, fiddling with his smartphone.

"Hey!"

I called out, and Takechi flinched. He slowly turned around.

"Listen—"

Takechi’s eyes shifted evasively to the side.

"I’m in a hurry, so..."

He started to leave. I had borrowed 500,000 yen from Takechi. When he came to ask for it back, I had yelled, "Don’t mess with me! I’ll kill you!" and chased him away.

"...I’m sorry for everything."

I apologized to his retreating back.

"I haven’t figured out how yet, but I’ll definitely pay you back the money I borrowed from you someday."

Takechi stopped in his tracks and turned around, keeping a significant distance between us.

"The vibe..."

He muttered quietly.

"The vibe around you has changed again."

"Has it?"

"...I’m not expecting much, but I’ll wait for my money."

His indifferent tone hit me hard. I knew I was in the wrong. I hadn’t paid him back and had yelled at him. I was trying to move forward, but his coldness stung. Even though I understood that everything was my fault, it still felt a little lonely. Maybe reading my expression, Takechi’s face grew awkward.

"I might be harsh, but paying back borrowed money is just common sense. And most people don’t get so obsessed with pachinko that they fall into debt, nor do they lie about having an illness."

With that, Takechi turned on his heel and walked away. I used to be close to him. Because we were close, I borrowed money. I took advantage of the trust between us. Now, I understand just how abnormal my actions were. Back then, I was too far gone to realize it.

I suddenly remembered the words I had thrown at Hinano.

"The old me and the current me are both me."

Even during the period when I wasn’t myself, I was still me. What I did and what I remember can never be erased.

I returned to the convenience store and resumed my position at the register. Ichou, who had seen me go outside, remarked sarcastically, "Long bathroom break."

"It was number two," I replied with a grin, and Ichou wrinkled her nose, saying, "Taka-san, you’re the worst."

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