Cold Light - Chapter 1 - Part 6

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The day after he was discharged from the hospital, Fujishima returned to work. After only half a year on the job, he had taken a long sick leave. He couldn’t have complained if he’d been fired, but apart from a brief sarcastic remark from his boss, his colleagues welcomed him back warmly. Fujishima wasn’t particularly skilled or outspoken. His sales performance wasn’t outstanding, and there were countless employees with his level of ability. Still, he was grateful not to have been let go, both emotionally and financially.

After transferring ownership of the company, Fujishima was left with just this apartment and the funds needed for Tohru’s tuition and fees for vocational school. He kept the money set aside, not knowing when Tohru might express a desire to study again. Aside from that, Fujishima’s savings were minimal.

He had read a lot of novels during his student days, but after starting his job, he hardly picked up a book. Without any real hobbies, his expenses were limited to food and a few miscellaneous costs. Still, the thought of having no income at all was daunting. Tohru had tried several times to give Fujishima his part-time earnings, saying they were for food or utilities, but Fujishima had stubbornly refused. Even if it meant going without food, he didn’t want to take money from Tohru.

Since the time he’d broken down in tears when Tohru had pressured him to reveal the past, Tohru hadn’t asked about it again or expressed any desire to become lovers. He also touched Fujishima less frequently, though the decrease in physical contact didn’t make their relationship feel distant. It seemed more like Tohru was being careful about maintaining an appropriate distance. As for Fujishima, he often found himself captivated by Tohru’s profile, feeling his heart stir... It was a small joy he cherished daily, and his life hadn’t changed much from before.

As May passed with clear skies, June brought more rain. On a Sunday morning, Tohru sighed repeatedly as he gazed up at the gray rain clouds through the living room window.

The previous week, Tohru had suggested, "I got Sunday off, so let’s go to the botanical garden in the next town to see the hydrangeas." But when they woke up that morning, it was already drizzling. Hoping they could still go out despite the weather, they started getting ready, but the rain grew heavier as time passed, eventually turning into an unrelenting downpour.

"It rained yesterday too, so we couldn’t go for a walk."

Tohru curled up on the sofa like a sulking cat. Recently, they had made it a habit to take evening walks along the riverbank after dinner. Since they usually went out around 7 p.m., they often encountered others walking their dogs or jogging along the riverside path.

A small river ran alongside the path, with several old warehouse-like structures lining the opposite bank. At night, the streetlights cast a dim, nostalgic glow over the area. If they walked earlier, they could watch the streetlights flicker on one by one along the path.

Tohru had grown fond of this walk, and if it wasn’t raining, he always urged Fujishima to join him. When they passed someone with a dog, they would wonder together what breed it was. Their conversations were always trivial, but they enjoyed them.

Knowing how much Tohru had been looking forward to the trip to the botanical garden, even going so far as to buy ingredients for a homemade lunch, Fujishima was at a loss for how to comfort him. The sound of the rain echoed dully in the room, and Tohru’s profile was filled with sighs. Fujishima regretted more than ever his lack of eloquence when it came to offering comfort.

After a moment of thought, Fujishima went to his room. He took one of the dozens of photo books from the shelf. Returning to the living room, he handed it to Tohru, who was still lying on the sofa with a gloomy expression.

“What’s this?”

Tohru tilted his head in curiosity.

“There are pictures of hydrangeas in here.”

After blinking in surprise, Tohru smiled with delight and said, “Thank you.”

“Why don’t you look at them with me, Fujishima?”

Tohru opened the photo book on the floor, and Fujishima sat down opposite him, hugging his knees. The photo book, titled “Flower Calendar,” showcased vibrant images of seasonal flowers. Tohru carefully turned each page, stopping at a picture of sunflowers blooming in clusters.

“When summer comes, I want to go camping. It doesn’t matter if it’s by the sea or in the mountains, as long as we bring a tent…”

“That sounds fun,” Fujishima replied with a nod.

"Fujishima, do you mind sleeping in a tent?" Tohru asked, looking up at him.

"I’m not sure... I’ve never had that experience."

"You’ve never gone camping?"

Fujishima nodded slightly. He had been invited during his student days, but his mother didn’t let him go because she thought eating food prepared outdoors and sleeping outside was unsanitary.

"I’ll take care of everything, so let’s go together in the summer."

"Alright."

Tohru insisted, “It’s a promise,” and Fujishima replied with a simple "Yeah," while secretly hoping that these peaceful times would last forever.

"This book, I have the same one, right?"

"Yeah."

"I never really looked at it before, but it’s beautiful."

When Tohru had his accident and moved out of his apartment, Fujishima had cleaned up the place. Up until then, Fujishima’s image of Tohru had been of someone with cold eyes, always ready to resort to violence. The first time Fujishima entered Tohru’s room, he found it extremely sparse, almost reflecting the desolate state of its occupant’s mind. The smell of cigarette smoke had seeped into the walls, and the lampshade on the ceiling was yellowed from nicotine.

In the dim, cramped room, there was one spot with some color: nearly twenty photo books stacked up. It wasn’t the kind of collection someone would have bought on a whim. Next to the books was a small cardboard box, and when Fujishima looked inside, he found it stuffed with a haphazard collection of photos. Until that moment, Fujishima hadn’t known that photography was Tohru’s hobby. When he had been shown the shattered camera at the accident scene, he hadn’t even wondered why it was in the car.

The photos in the box were mostly landscapes—urban scenes, factories, and abandoned buildings that might easily be overlooked. They weren’t exactly beautiful, but they had a certain melancholy aura.

As Fujishima flipped through the photos, he finally came across some that included people. They were pictures of a young child. Suddenly, the melancholy faded, and Fujishima felt a warmth radiating from the images. The child was smiling shyly at the camera, and Fujishima sensed that Tohru, the photographer, had felt a similar shyness and embarrassment, which made him smile as well.

Except for a few daily necessities and the photo books, Fujishima had to dispose of all of Tohru’s belongings. The refrigerator, which had likely been broken for who knows how long, and the torn futon with stuffing coming out… these things had to go. He hesitated about what to do with the box of photos, but in the end, he kept it. Those photos belonged to the Tohru from before he lost his memory, to the past. Fujishima thought it would be better for the current Tohru to take new photos for himself.

But perhaps that was just an excuse. He feared that showing Tohru the photos might trigger the return of his memories. It would be a lie to say that didn’t scare him.

The current Tohru didn’t touch a camera. He didn’t seem to have any interest in photography at all.

"Okay!"

Suddenly, Tohru stood up.

"I’m going to make us a bento. Let’s have a picnic here!"

Caught up in his own excitement, Tohru joyfully prepared a cute bento in about thirty minutes. He pushed the sofa near the window, laid out the photo book, and opened it to the page with the hydrangeas. To enhance the atmosphere, he spread a picnic blanket on the floor and poured tea into a thermos. It seemed excessive... To an outsider, it would have been an absurd scene, but Fujishima found himself enjoying the situation, drawn in by Tohru’s enthusiasm. They sat on the picnic blanket, eating the bento while looking at the hydrangeas on the sofa. Tohru, gazing out the window, remarked sarcastically, “The weather’s great today,” only to suddenly widen his eyes.

"...It’s clearing up..."

As if the morning’s downpour had been a lie, the gray clouds parted, revealing the bright sun. The two of them exchanged glances and burst out laughing. Even though the weather had cleared, they continued their indoor picnic. With the window wide open, Fujishima lay on the picnic blanket, looking up at the blue sky framed by the window.

"You’re amazing."

He muttered softly. Tohru seemed to notice and leaned over to peer into his face.

"Why do you say that all of a sudden?"

"It really feels like we went on a picnic."

Tohru blushed and looked down, trying to hide his red face. Fujishima, feeling drowsy from the soft sunlight, the pleasant breeze, and a comfortable fullness, closed his eyes.

His light sleep was interrupted by the sound of cars passing by. He felt a touch on his right hand and, glancing over, saw Tohru gently holding his fingertips. He was tracing each fingernail with his thumb.

"Let’s go to lots of different places."

Tohru’s face was downturned, so Fujishima couldn’t see his expression. It wasn’t a question that expected a response.

"Let’s make so many memories that you forget about the old me."

Fujishima’s heart ached as if it were being squeezed.

"And then, I’ll make you say that I’m better. That it’s better if my memories never return..."

Tohru slowly began to fall asleep, still loosely holding Fujishima’s hand. Fujishima sat up and quietly watched the sleeping man’s innocent face.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

After enjoying their pretend picnic and taking a nap, Fujishima suggested they eat dinner out. He wanted Tohru to take a break from cooking every morning and evening without rest. “It’s rare for you to suggest going out,” Tohru said, delighted.

They left the apartment a little after 4 p.m. because Tohru mentioned he wanted to do some shopping. Although the rain had stopped, its remnants were evident in the black puddles and the people walking with closed umbrellas. Tohru bought a T-shirt at the department store.

"Maybe I’ll take up photography."

Tohru said as he picked up a photo album in the stationery section.

"Not seriously, but I’d like to have some snapshots from our outings."

The camera Fujishima had given Tohru as a Christmas present last year, which had been returned with a lack of interest, was still sitting in the back of the closet. Although Tohru hadn’t shown any interest in photography since losing his memory, Fujishima wondered if there might still be some connection.

As they were descending the escalator, Tohru suddenly exclaimed, “Oh!”

“Can we stop at the next floor?”

Once off the escalator, Tohru headed straight for the kitchenware section. He eagerly examined the various cake molds, picking them up and scrutinizing them.

"Hey, Fujishima, do you know what this mold is for?"

Tohru held out a mold with a strange hole in the center.

"...Not sure."

"It’s a mold for chiffon cake. I tried making one at work once, but it failed and collapsed."

Even though he had been examining the mold so intently, he carefully put it back in its place. When Fujishima asked if he was going to buy it, Tohru shrugged and said, “I’ll study a bit more first.”

"My goal is to bake a big whole cake for your birthday, Fujishima. And I’ll cover it with so much chocolate..."

While walking and talking with his head turned to the side, Tohru suddenly let out a startled cry of "Whoa!" A small girl bounced backward with a little hop.

"I-I'm sorry!"

Tohru hurriedly rushed over to the child who had fallen backward after bumping into his own legs.

"Are you hurt? Are you okay?"

The child looked to be a little over three years old... As soon as Tohru saw the girl's face while helping her up, Fujishima felt like his breath stopped. The girl had wavy brown hair and big eyes inherited from her mother. As the child got up, her eyes met Fujishima's. The moment they both realized who they were, the child broke free from Tohru's hand and leaped onto Fujishima's leg.

"Daddy!"

There was no doubt; this was the daughter he had parted ways with nine months ago. What was she doing here…? Fujishima's mind went into a panic. He lifted his crying daughter into his arms, just as he used to.

"Maho, please don't cry so much..."

His daughter's face, which he hadn't seen in so long, was bright red from crying, including her cheeks and the tip of her nose.

"Where's Mommy?"

"I don't know."

Still sobbing, she clung tightly to Fujishima's neck. She rubbed her soft cheek against him like a cat.

"Why don't you come home, Daddy?"

Her innocent question tightened Fujishima's chest.

"Maho, I've been waiting for you all this time..."

Tohru, who was standing across from them, had a stunned look on his face. He put a hand on his forehead and let out a weak, nervous laugh.

"Um, so... Fujishima-san, are you..."

"Ah! It's Mommy!"

Maho shouted, and Tohru jumped in surprise.

"Mommy! I found Daddy!"

When they turned around, there stood Emi, the woman who had once been his wife. She had her long hair tied back and was wearing her favorite navy blue dress with a white cardigan. Emi blinked in surprise, quickly walked over, and smiled warmly. "I didn't expect to see you here. Are you alone?"

"...No, I'm with someone."

Emi's gaze shifted past Fujishima's shoulder, landing on Tohru.

"He's young. Someone from your company?"

Fujishima had never told his ex-wife about his past, nor had he ever discussed it.

"No, it's not work-related. It's just..."

"Um..."

When he turned around, Tohru had a stiff expression, like a Noh mask.

"I'm leaving now. Fujishima-san, please take your time. Thank you for spending today with me," he said with a polite tone. He slightly bowed his head and slipped past Fujishima. Even if he wanted to stop him, he couldn't run after him while holding Maho. Tohru quickly hopped onto the escalator as if escaping, and he disappeared from sight in no time. Seeing all this, Fujishima could only guess what he must have thought... something he didn't want to imagine.

"Keishi..."

Being called by his name brought him back to reality. Fujishima, who had been staring at the escalator where Tohru had disappeared, had completely forgotten about the family standing in front of him.

"I'm glad we met. I was having trouble since we lost contact. There's something I want to talk about; do you have a moment now?"

Though he was concerned about Tohru, he couldn't leave his ex-wife, who wanted to talk, and his daughter clinging to him, to go back.

Still holding Maho, Fujishima entered the department store's tea room. Maho, unwilling to be separated, refused to move from Fujishima's lap. Even when Emi sternly scolded their unyielding daughter, Maho stubbornly shook her head, her eyes welling up with tears.

“Because Maho loves Daddy so much…”

As Fujishima stroked his daughter’s back, he was overwhelmed with guilt. Less than a month after Tohru's accident, Fujishima had divorced his wife. When he begged Emi on his knees, asking her to “Please let me go,” Emi, with a pained expression, said, “Let me think about it.” After about a week of consideration and agonizing, she granted Fujishima his selfish request.

Emi was a woman Fujishima’s mother had introduced as a potential wife. She was two years older than him, came from a good family, and had hobbies like flower arranging, playing the piano, and cooking—she was the picture of the perfect wife and mother. Fujishima didn’t have a strong reason to refuse, so he got married at twenty-four, encouraged by those around him, and the following year, Maho was born.

Although it felt like a forced marriage, things had gone well. Except for one thing—Fujishima couldn’t bring himself to have sex with Emi. Emi knew how much Fujishima was struggling with this, and that’s precisely why she agreed to his selfish desire to separate without even asking for a reason.

From the month after they registered their marriage, Fujishima’s mother asked him almost every day, “Isn’t there a baby yet?” He couldn’t bring himself to say that he couldn’t have sex with his wife, and the stress was so intense that he felt like a hole might burn through his stomach. Knowing that his mother’s desire for a grandchild was merely her wish for an heir for the Fujishima family made it even more painful.

Maho was conceived by taking advantage of his body’s natural response in the morning; it wasn’t what one would call proper sex. He tried it once, but the act, which felt like an obligation without pleasure, only increased the emptiness, leaving both Fujishima and Emi emotionally scarred. After that, they never did it that way again. But even once was enough to conceive a child.

Emi took a sip of her Earl Grey tea, which she had always said she liked.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing well. Your mother said you hadn’t returned home, so I’ve been worried about you all this time. I wondered if you were eating properly. You’re not someone who knows how to cook, after all.”

“Or have you found someone new?” Emi added with a playful smile. It was a gentle smile. He had thought he could love this smart and beautiful woman. And he did love her, but it was a little different from how he felt about Tohru.

“I can say this now, but at first, I was a little scared of you. You always had such a serious look on your face and rarely smiled. But as we went on dates, I realized that while you were quiet, you were sincere and kind... and I fell in love with you.”

Emi lowered her eyes.

“You were very kind to Maho and me. You took great care of us. I even thought that as long as we could be together, it didn’t matter if we couldn’t love each other as husband and wife.”

A beautiful, thoughtful wife and a cute daughter... It must have seemed like an ideal family.

“When you said you wanted a divorce, to be honest, I was very shocked. But I also knew you were troubled by the lack of intimacy between us and that you felt guilty toward me because of it. So when I thought that becoming strangers might make things easier for you and that it might help me regain my confidence as a woman, I felt a bit relieved. I hated myself for thinking that way, though…”

Perhaps exhausted from playing, Maho began to doze off in Fujishima’s arms.

“After that, I moved far away. I’ve also found someone I love. He’s older, but he’s cute like a child. He’s very fond of Maho too. His family home is near here, so today we visited his parents… Next year, I’m going to marry him. So there’s no need for you to pay child support for Maho anymore.”

“Let’s both be happy this time,” Emi said with a small smile.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Happiness, it seems, is a difficult word to define. That’s what Fujishima thought as he made his way home alone after parting ways with his ex-wife. In reality, it felt like everyone who had ever been called his family was somehow unhappy. His father, Tohru, Emi—even his mother was no exception.

He had often wondered why his father had never tried to leave his mother despite their hostile relationship. Despite her selfishness, it seemed his father loved her. Now, there was no way to be sure... It wasn’t as if his father had entirely ignored him. Without ever revealing the truth, his father went to his grave with Fujishima still as “his son.” That seemed to be the fullest extent of his father’s love.

Six months after his father’s funeral, Fujishima’s mother, freed from the chains of marriage, remarried. Her new husband was a man she had been having an affair with since before his father had passed away, someone she had met at a ballroom dance class. When she formally introduced the man to her son, she emphasized his high education and his position as the president of a food company, and lastly, she boasted with a proud smile, “He’s from a noble family.”

After remarrying and leaving the house, his mother pressured Fujishima to get married. She repeatedly insisted that he should settle down as soon as possible. She wanted someone to carry on the Fujishima family name after herself and after her son.

Following her advice, Fujishima married and walked the path his mother wanted. Then, in the summer when Fujishima was twenty-eight, Tohru had an accident.

To help Tohru, who had caused the accident, Fujishima used his status and power as a company president to the fullest. Knowing money was needed, he didn’t hesitate to sell off the indigo dyeing techniques that had been handed down for decades to another company. When this seemingly irrational behavior caused the company executives to panic, and they contacted his mother, everything had already ended. Leaving his hysterical mother behind, Fujishima fled to this city with just enough money to get by, along with a blank-slate Tohru...

If his father hadn’t been in an accident overseas that left him paralyzed, if he had been able to have children, if his mother hadn’t been so fixated on “family background” and “bloodline”... maybe his parents could have been happy. But if that were the case, he wouldn’t have been born, and he wouldn’t have met Tohru. At this point, he couldn’t even judge what was good or bad.

By the time he got back to his apartment, it was past 8 p.m. At their parting, Maho had fussed and wouldn’t let go of his hand, and trying to calm her down had delayed him. Honestly, he was more concerned about the man who had left earlier than his own blood-related daughter crying right in front of him.

The entrance was dark. He thought maybe Tohru wasn’t home yet, but when he turned on the light, Tohru’s shoes were lying by the entrance. The hallway and the living room were also dark and silent. There was no sense that anyone was there. Fujishima went to the door of Tohru’s room but couldn’t bring himself to knock. He didn’t know how to start the conversation.

Unable to call out to him, Fujishima returned to the living room and sat on the sofa. He picked up a photo album that had been left behind from their picnic earlier in the day. Flipping through it absently, he wondered where Tohru’s happiness lay. Where was a future where Tohru could feel truly happy? Fujishima was content with the current situation. Living with someone he loved who said he loved him—there was no greater happiness than this. But what about Tohru?

Emi found happiness after separating from him. In the end, that was probably the right decision. But what if the same could be said for Tohru? He didn’t want to betray the man Tohru was before he lost his memory. He didn’t want to get hurt after loving each other. Either way, if Tohru stayed with him without intending to reciprocate his feelings, he might be happier with someone else.

The situation was different from right after the accident when Tohru had lost his memory. He was now working at a place he chose, and if he wanted to, he could live on his own. He could manage even without Fujishima. Perhaps it would be better if he wasn’t there...

The sound of footsteps came from the hallway. Fujishima looked up from the photo album to see Tohru standing in the doorway to the living room. He stood still, his head slightly lowered. After a moment, he slowly walked in and sat down opposite Fujishima.

“Did you eat anything?” he asked quietly.

“No.”

“Sorry, I don’t feel like cooking today.”

“It’s fine. I’ll go buy something outside.”

As Fujishima stood up, Tohru hurriedly reached out and grabbed his right hand, saying, “Wait.” When Fujishima flinched, Tohru, as if confused, let go of his hand.

“I have something I want to ask you...”

Looking down, Tohru clasped his hands together near his chest.

“Fujishima-san, um...”

His voice trembled as he asked,

“Are you... married?”

He was about to say that he was divorced but hesitated. If he pretended to be married, it might give Tohru a reason to give up on him.

“Yes,” he lied.

Tohru muttered, “I see...” and ran his short bangs through his fingers in frustration.

“If you had told me sooner, I wouldn’t have caused you so much trouble.”

Tohru suddenly lifted his head and smiled a little.

“Your wife is beautiful, isn’t she?”

Speaking in a voice that was too loud, Tohru said, "That little girl is cute too."

Even though he was trying to act cheerful, his fingers, tightly clenched, were trembling. It was obvious that he was forcing himself, and the sight of it was so painful that Fujishima couldn’t help but avert his eyes. As the words trailed off, silence filled the room. A heavy, bitter feeling seemed to linger in the air, wrapping around Fujishima like a shroud.

"Fujishima-san, don't you have someone at home who can cook delicious meals for you? So why do you stay with me?"

He couldn’t answer.

"Do you pity me because I lost my memory?"

"…That might be true."

"If it’s just pity, then that’s fine. But if that's the case, you shouldn't say you 'love' me. You shouldn’t make a face like you love me."

Feeling cornered and with no way out, Fujishima looked down.

"Everyone gets hurt, don't they? Your family... and me too."

The words Tohru threw at him hurt his chest. From Tohru's perspective, Fujishima must have seemed like someone with low moral standards, unable to hide his feelings for another person despite having a family. Even if he wanted to say that he always cared about Tohru and loved him even after starting a family, it would just sound like a selfish excuse.

"Say something, please."

All he could do was apologize, saying, "I'm sorry." Suddenly, Tohru stood up and left the living room. The fear of 'losing him' suddenly overwhelmed Fujishima, and he was seized by the urge to chase after Tohru and tell him the truth. But he gritted his teeth and held back.

If Tohru became disgusted with his low morals and shallowness and decided to distance himself, then that would be fine. That would be for the best, Fujishima kept telling himself over and over.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The next morning, even after waking up, Fujishima found it hard to leave his room. He felt awkward about facing Tohru. However, he couldn’t afford to take a day off after such a long sick leave, so he started getting ready twenty minutes later than usual.

When he went to the kitchen, there was already no sign of anyone, and a solitary breakfast was sitting on the table. Next to the plate, there was a note that read, "I’m heading to work first." Eating breakfast alone, with no one to talk to, Fujishima thought to himself that if Tohru left, mornings like this would become his everyday reality.

At night, when Fujishima returned home, Tohru was in the kitchen, cooking. Seeing his back, Fujishima felt a quiet sense of relief. While Fujishima was changing clothes in his room, Tohru called out, "Dinner's ready." But when he went to the kitchen, there was only one serving prepared.

"I already ate with a friend," Tohru said, leaving the kitchen as soon as Fujishima sat down at the table. Just like in the morning, while eating alone, Fujishima’s mind wandered. The only friend he could think of was the college student Tohru had met while working part-time at a convenience store. Fujishima had never heard Tohru mention eating out with that friend. He had said that after switching to a job at a bakery, they didn’t see each other as often as before.

Was the friend he ate with that college student? Did Tohru have friends Fujishima didn’t know about? Or… was Tohru just saying he ate with a friend because he didn’t want to face Fujishima?

The sound of his chewing and swallowing echoed in his ears. He thought he heard the faint sound of rain, so he stopped eating. Then, suddenly, the sound of rain grew louder and resonated throughout the room.

Since he wasn’t much of an eater to begin with, once he stopped eating, he lost the desire to eat entirely. Still, because Tohru had gone to the trouble of making it for him, he forced himself to continue, but eventually, he began to feel nauseous. He ended up leaving most of it, and feeling guilty, he quietly threw it away in the trash. While he was washing the dishes, Tohru came back into the kitchen. He hadn’t noticed Tohru’s presence because of the running water.

“I’ll do the washing,” Tohru said, pushing Fujishima toward the living room sofa. After quickly cleaning up the dishes, Tohru took a cake box out of the refrigerator.

“The only thing left today was an éclair. Sorry about that.”

Tohru placed the éclair and some coffee on a tray and brought it to the living room, setting it on the table. “Just leave the dirty dishes in the sink,” he said before leaving the room.

Once again, Fujishima was alone. He stared blankly at the dessert he loved and the fragrant coffee. When he finally came to his senses, the steam had vanished from the coffee, and the cup had gone cold. When he took a sip, only the bitterness lingered on his tongue. He put the éclair, plate and all, back in the refrigerator.

Fujishima left the living room and headed straight for Tohru’s room. When he knocked on the door, there was a flurry of hurried footsteps rushing toward it.

“Oh, what is it? Are you done eating?”

“…I didn’t eat the éclair.”

With his mouth half open, Tohru frowned.

“Wasn’t it good?”

“That’s not it… I just don’t have much of an appetite lately. It’s always like this at this time of year… So, from tomorrow, no more desserts. I feel bad if I can’t eat them, like today.”

The look of distress on Tohru’s face lasted only for a moment.

“You don’t have to worry about it. It’s just leftovers that would’ve been thrown away anyway…”

“Even so, there’s no need to bring something back if I can’t eat it.”

He could see his words creating a tense atmosphere. Knowing this, he continued speaking, pushing even further.

"From tomorrow on, you don’t have to prepare meals for me."

Tohru turned pale instantly. 

"Why?"

"As I mentioned before, there's no need for you to be in the kitchen just for me."

"But today... well, it just happened to be this way..."

The hesitation in Tohru's voice suggested that what he was calling a coincidence was actually intentional.

"I understand that you’re trying to be considerate of me. But I also want to be considerate of you. That’s why I want us to have separate meals."

Without any warning, Tohru suddenly slammed the door shut right in front of Fujishima. The gust from the door’s closure rustled his bangs. Standing there, Fujishima felt the sting of the obvious, visible rejection. After quite a while, he thought he should say something else but didn’t. If they stopped eating together, they would see each other less often... Distance would grow between them.

The next morning, Fujishima woke up later than usual. He had trouble falling asleep the night before because he had too many thoughts running through his mind. The sleep he did get was shallow, and he had an unpleasant dream. He couldn’t remember the dream itself, just the vague feeling that it was unpleasant.

He got out of bed and heard a knock on the door. 

“Fujishima-san, are you awake? You’re going to be late for work!”

“I’m awake,” he replied, opening the door, but Tohru was already gone. The fact that Tohru had spoken to him as if nothing had happened, despite what happened the previous day, felt strange. He had expected Tohru to be angrier, maybe even mad enough to let his roommate oversleep and be late.

After washing his face, Fujishima returned to his room and changed into his suit. When he stepped into the hallway, he heard noises coming from the kitchen. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted in. He hesitated. But it felt wrong to leave without saying anything, so he stepped into the living room.

“Oh, good morning.”

Tohru’s voice was cheerful.

“I made breakfast. Do you have time to eat?”

On the table was a simple breakfast of toast, coffee, and salad.

“I thought I said yesterday—don’t cook for me—”

Tohru cut him off with a loud voice.

“It’s just something I made while I was at it. I’m not cooking just for you. If you have time, sit down… the coffee’s going to get cold.”

Encouraged, Fujishima sat down on a chair. Tohru, still wearing his apron, sat across from him. As they began to eat, Tohru, who had been acting cheerful, suddenly fell silent. While nibbling on his toast, Fujishima tried to recall their past breakfasts. He wondered what they used to talk about since the silence felt so noticeable now.

As he left the apartment and walked to work, Fujishima thought about why Tohru continued to make breakfast despite being told they should eat separately. Why lie about it being ‘while I was at it’? Without needing to think deeply, it was clear Tohru understood—if they stopped eating together, there would be no reason to see each other...

That night, after work, Fujishima came home to find dinner prepared for two. He no longer said, “You don’t have to cook just for me,” because he already knew what Tohru’s response would be. Just as before, Tohru talked aimlessly about what had happened that day.

Eventually, Tohru seemed to get tired of talking and let out a small sigh, looking downward. 

"Is this friend... a woman?"

At the question, Tohru looked up.

“...Friend? What friend?”

“You said you had dinner with a friend yesterday… is it a woman?”

“Why are you asking?”

He replied irritably but didn’t answer the question. Maybe the story about having dinner with a friend was a lie. Knowing this, Fujishima deliberately chose words to provoke him.

“I just thought it would be better if your friend was a woman.”

Tohru’s expression changed. His irritated face turned to one of obvious anger.

“Why would it be better if it were a woman?”

“No reason beyond the words themselves.”

There was a sharp sound as Tohru put his chopsticks down on the table.

“Are you saying it would be better if I were dating a woman? Fujishima-san, you know how I feel, don’t you? Knowing that, how can you say something like that?”

“Well—”

Tohru roughly ran his fingers through his hair, stomping his right foot nervously. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the room, growing gradually fainter.

“I…”

Still looking down, Tohru muttered.

“I’ve thought a lot… but I don’t know what to do.”

He looked up from under his eyebrows.

“What do you want, Fujishima-san? You ignore your family to take care of me… and then what? What are you planning to do after that?”

All he had considered was making sure Tohru could do what he wanted and find happiness.

“You didn’t have to live with me, leaving your family behind. It would have been enough to check in on me occasionally. I lost my memory, but I could have lived on my own. Or did you want to be with me?”

His words brushed against the core of the issue. If there was even a 1% chance of that being true, he couldn’t deny it. Fujishima spoke, looking directly into Tohru’s eyes.

“When it looks like you can live independently, I plan to return home.”

Tohru lowered his head and mumbled, “…I see.” He stayed like that for a while, but suddenly, with a loud bang, he stood up from his chair and hurried out of the living room. He didn’t come back even after ten or twenty minutes, leaving his meal half-finished.

Where there is a beginning, there must be an end. Was that a line from a novel or a song lyric he read long ago? Such a thought came to mind. If moving in together was the beginning, then when would the end be? Even though he was the one creating an atmosphere that hinted at an ending, Fujishima felt as if he were an observer of someone else’s life.

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