Cold Fever - Chapter 1 - Part 1

The content warning is in the footnotes⁰.

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He was always a light sleeper. That was why waking up was always the worst part, and from the moment he opened his eyes, the entire day ahead of him would feel heavy and miserable. Sometimes, just seeing his own reflection in the chipped mirror by the front door before heading out to work would make him so angry he could barely stand it. When he mentioned it to someone at work, they had laughed awkwardly and told him to cut back on his drinking. Maybe they were right. But without alcohol, he couldn’t sleep.

That day, however, Tohru woke up feeling unusually refreshed. Staring suspiciously at an unfamiliar white ceiling, he slowly pushed his upper body up from the bed. Immediately, his entire body began to shiver. Despite it being summer, the room was freezing cold. Unable to bear it, he grabbed a blanket that was within reach and wrapped it tightly around himself. Even with the relentless heatwave that had been baking the city for days, this level of air conditioning was insane. Still wrapped up, he looked around the room. There was no one else there. He was completely naked, and judging from the trash can next to the bed—where a condom wrapper had been discarded—it seemed that something had definitely happened. Yet he couldn't recall a thing. He had no memory of the situation, or even what kind of woman he might have brought back. Last night, he had gone drinking again at his usual bar. Even though he always told himself to stop at a reasonable amount, he inevitably ended up drinking too much. Because, honestly, there were so many irritating things piling up in his life.

The clock on the wall showed ten a.m. It was Wednesday. If the woman had a regular day job, she had probably already left for work. Clicking his tongue in irritation, Tohru thought about how even if he rushed now, he would still be two hours late. The idea of getting another snide, nagging lecture from his boss made his stomach turn. Shivering from the cold, he decided to at least get dressed and got out of bed, but when he looked around, there was no sign of the clothes he must have taken off the night before. The barren, utilitarian feel of the room suggested it belonged to a man, but the bookshelf lined with rows of dessert cookbooks was the only thing that hinted at a woman’s presence.

Still naked, wandering around the room searching for his clothes, goosebumps rising all over him, he decided to find the air conditioner remote. But when he checked the wall-mounted unit, he realized the switch wasn’t even on. Frowning, Tohru tilted his head in confusion. Maybe he had stripped off somewhere else and stumbled into bed afterward. He decided to leave what seemed to be the bedroom. The hallway beyond was just as bitterly cold. He checked the entryway, the kitchen, the living room—everywhere—but no matter where he looked, he couldn’t find his clothes. Between the cold and his growing irritation, his frustration began to boil over. Maybe that damn busybody woman had decided to wash them without asking. Scowling, he headed toward what looked like a laundry room deeper inside the apartment.

As he passed the bathroom mirror, a strange man’s reflection flickered across the glass, and Tohru jumped in shock. He hadn’t realized there was anyone else in the apartment and spun around hastily. But there was no one behind him. Turning back to the mirror, the man was still there. He turned around again. No one. He repeated it three times before he finally froze and stared hard into the mirror. The man looked strangely familiar. Hesitantly, Tohru approached. The closer he got, the bigger the reflection became. When he touched his cheek, the man in the mirror did the same.

It was only when he realized the figure in the mirror was somehow himself that Tohru muttered, "No way..." under his breath. His hairstyle was different. It hadn't been particularly long before, but now there was a slight, unfamiliar nuance to it. His face too—on closer inspection it was definitely his, but there was something unnervingly off about it, as if he were looking at a stranger made to resemble him. And he thought, just faintly, that he looked a little older.

The longer he stared, the more uneasy he felt, and Tohru backed away from the mirror as if fleeing. Pressing a hand against his forehead, he ignored how strangely clear his head felt and kept telling himself it was just a hangover. But... if he had been so drunk that he couldn’t even remember who he slept with, why wasn’t there even a trace of that heavy, sluggish feeling that always came with a hangover?

A shiver ran down his spine. A nameless anxiety gripped him, something he couldn’t explain. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. This house was strange. It creeped him out. Unable to stand still, he hurried back to the bedroom. He had to get away from this bizarre place. But he couldn’t just walk out naked. It didn’t matter if it was women’s clothes—he needed something to wear. He yanked open the closet door, and surprisingly, it was filled with men’s clothing. He grabbed a shirt and a pair of jeans at random and pulled them on. They fit perfectly. The house was unusually spacious for someone living alone. Maybe the clothes belonged to a boyfriend or husband. But he didn’t care about that anymore. All he wanted was to get out of there as quickly as possible.

His own shoes weren’t at the entrance, but he felt no guilt about wearing someone else’s. He burst outside. It seemed he had been staying in a unit on a high floor; over the railing, he could see far into the distance. But the scenery spread out before him sparked no recognition. A strong wind, fierce enough to stir his bangs, made Tohru shiver again. Maybe he didn’t remember because he had been drunk—but what was this freezing cold, like winter, when it was supposed to be summer? Wondering if some freak weather event had struck, he rode the elevator down and stepped onto the sidewalk, but once there, he froze, not knowing whether to turn left or right.

Thinking that if he could find a train station, he might at least get his bearings, he chose the wide road to the right and looked up as he walked. Everyone he passed wore dark coats or jackets, and seeing them made him realize how strange he must have looked, walking around in just a shirt. Still, no matter how cold it felt, it was supposed to be summer. Only the day before yesterday, there had been a festival in his neighborhood, and he’d seen fireworks exploding over the river while making a delivery run.

When he reached a three-lane main road, he spotted a subway sign for the "Kasaisei Line." It was a name he had never heard before. Given the nature of his delivery job, he was pretty familiar with local geography, but none of it rang a bell. Going down the stairs into the station, he checked the route map, but none of the place names looked familiar either. Only one—the big station marked at the center—was recognizable, and it wasn’t anywhere near his home. It was the prefectural capital of a neighboring prefecture, closer to the Kanto region.

Almost afraid to believe it, he asked a station attendant, "What prefecture is this?"

The man looked at him strangely but gave him the answer Tohru had feared. He had somehow traveled hundreds of kilometers overnight.

And the cold, and even the subtle changes in his own face...

He had thought that if he just got out of that strange house, things would go back to normal. But the abnormality surrounding him showed no signs of ending, and Tohru began to feel genuine fear creeping up inside him.

As he tried to figure out how he could have possibly traveled so far, he remembered that yesterday, he had gone drinking using a company car. It was likely still parked back at the building. As much as he didn’t want to return, abandoning the company vehicle wasn’t an option.

He turned to retrace his steps, but either he took the wrong corner or the streets had somehow shifted, because he ended up in a place he didn’t recognize. Searching for any tall building as a landmark, he wandered through a residential neighborhood. The cold gnawed at him, his stomach growled with hunger, and even his legs grew weary. Eventually, he dropped heavily onto a bench in a park.

He curled his back against the biting wind and stared blankly as dry leaves tumbled across the ground at his feet. His wallet was surely still back at that strange apartment. Overwhelmed by hopeless cold and gnawing hunger, a hollow, empty feeling began to take root inside him.

With a rustling sound, Tohru looked up to see a middle-aged businessman in a black coat throwing a newspaper into the trash can next to the bench he was sitting on. Casually watching this, Tohru sprang up as if jolted, and picked up the discarded newspaper. As he checked the date, his fingertips started to tremble. The date printed on the newspaper was January 25, 20XX—six years into the future... Tohru clutched the newspaper tightly and ran after the businessman in the black coat.

Perhaps because he was suddenly stopped by a stranger, the middle-aged man looked puzzled and wary.

"Um... um, what year and what day is it today?"

The man calmly gave the same date as the one on the newspaper. Without even thanking him, Tohru turned on his heel and stopped a young woman who was walking behind him, asking her the same question. He asked three people in total for today’s date, and all gave the same response.

He returned to the bench by the trash can, utterly bewildered. This wasn’t a drama—waking up suddenly six years in the future was impossible. But the reality before his eyes showed that his face had changed, it was winter, and he was in an unfamiliar place. If it truly was 'six years later,' had he aged six years? From 22 to 28? Or had he remained 22, somehow only jumping through time? Just like in a novel.

No matter how much he thought, no answer came, and his temples began to throb with pain. When he tried to remember, his memory faded out from the moment he was drinking at an izakaya (a Japanese pub). Anxiety and irritation grew, and he kicked the trash can beside the bench impulsively. It made a loud noise, and its contents scattered around. A middle-aged woman walking her dog frowned as she saw this, and Tohru yelled loudly, "Stop staring!"

He kicked the scattered contents even more and clawed at his head with his right hand. Maybe his mind was broken. It wasn't all that great to begin with, but now it might be completely off, going insane. This was the worst. Everything was the worst...

He suddenly snorted through his nose and started walking. Soon, he started running, unable to do anything else. A vague sense of anxiety drove his legs. He didn’t understand himself—his own confusion made him anxious. He didn’t even know where he was running anymore. A large three-lane road, a big truck passing right by, street trees with bare brown bark... He ran, bumping into and shoving past various people. Eventually, he reached a big river and found himself running along it.

The moment he turned back at the sound of a bell ringing, his feet tangled. He fell by the roadside and chuckled, "Huh, huh." He felt the presence of a bicycle passing right next to him. Tohru slowly got up. His palms were scraped, and his clothes were dirty with soil. Without knowing where he was going or where he wanted to go, he took a step forward anyway. Then, something white flickered in his vision.

A young child walking towards him pulled his mother's hand and pointed at the sky with excitement. Following their gaze, Tohru looked up and saw white crystals falling endlessly from the sky, watching them with a blank stare.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

With a dull metallic clank, the iron bars of the detention cell creaked open. "Tohru Takahisa, you're free," called a police officer in a blue uniform, and Tohru sluggishly stood up. The moment he started walking, his right ankle began to throb with pain. It was because it had been stomped on when he was punched and fell. The pain intensified his irritation. If he had known this would happen, he regretted not hurting that man he could no longer even remember the face of even more.

Following the officer down the dimly lit, gloomy hallway under the fluorescent lights, Tohru dragged his right foot. In front of the interrogation room, where he was taken, stood a middle-aged detective who had persistently grilled him over the past few days and a man in a coat. The moment Tohru recognized who that man was, a smirk formed on his lips.

"I'm really sorry for all the trouble."

The man in the coat, Keiji Fujishima, deeply bowed his head to the police officer. From Tohru's perspective, it had been two years since he last saw this face, but in reality, it had been eight years. However, he didn't seem to have changed much. He was supposed to be 34 years old but still appeared thin, pale, and expressionless like a doll, just as he had before.

The middle-aged detective cleared his throat and started speaking in a pompous tone.

"This time, given the unusual circumstances of 'memory impairment,' we’re going to release you, but your two former coworkers from the delivery company you used to work for did suffer injuries, though they didn’t need hospitalization. Be more careful in the future."

"I'm really, truly sorry."

Why is he my guarantor? Tohru wondered, watching the man who repeatedly bowed like a robot with a cold gaze.

"This is the first case of such a 'memory impairment' here. At first, we thought it might be a mental illness and considered having you examined by a specialist, but before that, we received a diagnosis, so... the process went smoothly."

"I'm really sorry."

"You're old enough now, so don't make your brother worry too much."

"Well then," said the detective, patting Tohru’s shoulder in a friendly manner. Tohru roughly brushed the hand away. The detective’s face immediately showed visible displeasure, and the atmosphere became tense in an instant. Fujishima hastily apologized, "I'm really sorry," which irritated Tohru.

Two days ago, Tohru had lied about losing his wallet at a police station in an unfamiliar town to borrow money and return to the town where he lived. Unable to accept the reality that he fell asleep in the summer and woke up in the winter, with six years supposedly having passed, he boarded a train, hoping that everything would return to normal if he went back to the place he lived.

Unable to afford an express ticket, he took a slow local train, and after a seven-hour ride, he finally arrived at his hometown station, which surprised him with a newly renovated station building. After walking nearly forty minutes, he returned to the apartment where he had lived, only to find that the building he had lived in until just the day before had vanished without a trace, replaced by a monthly parking lot. He was shocked, as if he were in a bad dream...

After leaving the parking lot, Tohru then headed to the delivery company where he worked. The company building was the same as he remembered, which was a relief, but all the people working there were unfamiliar faces. The only one he recognized was his boss in his late 40s, whom he had disliked. It was as if overnight, some magic powder had been sprinkled, making the boss’s hair sparse and his appearance suddenly older.

As Tohru stood near the entrance, a female employee greeted him with a "Welcome." "I’d like to speak with Mr. Okayabayashi," he said, specifically naming his aged supervisor. The supervisor, who was whispered to by the female employee, approached with a forced smile, asking, "What can I do for you?" When Tohru mentioned his name, "Takahisa," the supervisor mumbled, "Takahisa, Takahisa..." and then suddenly, as if he remembered, loudly exclaimed, "Oh, it's you," giving Tohru's shoulder a light tap.

"You look well. Has it been five, six years? It seems like your injury has completely healed."

"Injury..." Tohru muttered, repeating the word softly, and the supervisor exaggeratedly shrugged his shoulders.

"It was a major accident, wasn’t it? After that, your brother came in with a resignation letter, and I thought things were really getting serious, but you look fine now. So, what are you doing these days?"

Swallowing hard, Tohru took in the flood of information. An accident he didn't know about, a resignation letter submitted without his knowledge. He had some idea who might claim to be his "brother," but he couldn't understand why that name was coming up now. He hadn't seen him since he punched him in front of the apartment two years ago.

"Hey, is Ishii here?"

Ishii was the person Tohru was closest to at this branch. He felt Ishii might know something about the accident and what happened afterward.

"Ishii got promoted to headquarters last year. He was a serious guy, after all."

The headquarters was in Tokyo. It would be too far to commute from here, so Ishii must have moved.

"Could you give me his contact information?"

The supervisor squinted his eyes and asked, "Why do you need to contact him?" sizing Tohru up from head to toe.

"If you tell me why you need to contact him, I’ll get in touch with him for you. He’s a manager now and probably quite busy... By the way, what kind of work are you doing these days?"

Tohru felt frustrated, unable to understand why the supervisor wouldn’t just give him the contact information and why he was being so cagey. Realizing the supervisor's gaze was fixed on the dirt on Tohru's clothes from when he had fallen on the gravel, Tohru suddenly understood—the supervisor thought he had come to borrow money from a friend. As this realization dawned on him, anger surged through him, and he acted before thinking. Grabbing the supervisor by the collar, he shouted, "Just tell me already!" The supervisor let out a high-pitched scream and yelled, "Get this guy out of here!" at the top of his lungs.

A young delivery worker grabbed Tohru from behind in a chokehold and forcefully pulled him away from the supervisor. Glancing at Tohru, who was snarling like a dog trapped in a cage, the supervisor adjusted his disheveled collar with his fingertips and snorted with a dismissive smile. That further fueled Tohru's rage. He headbutted the delivery worker holding him from behind, then punched him when the worker recoiled in shock. Tohru chased down the fleeing supervisor, knocked him over, dragged him up, and kicked him in the stomach. He punched the man who tried to intervene as well. Tohru lashed out at everyone who touched him, knocking them all down until he was covered in blood and subdued by the police.

He spent two days in the detention cell. The interrogating detective was relentless. When asked for his address, he had no choice but to give the address of the apartment, which was now a monthly parking lot. The detective yelled, "There’s no apartment at that location; that’s nonsense." Tohru also explained the bizarre situation—how he had fallen asleep drunk and woken up six years later—but was met with a mocking "Do you want to go to a hospital?" and wasn’t taken seriously. It was the worst two days.

The moment he left the police station, his entire body shivered. It was a dark night; heavy snow was blowing sideways, and the sidewalk faintly illuminated by the streetlights was covered in white.

"The car is parked in the back lot," came a voice from behind him, but he ignored it and kept walking straight. Every step he took sent a sharp pain through his right ankle, making him angry. The dark, cold road ahead seemed to symbolize his bleak future, making him feel empty. He had lost his home, his job, and even six years of his life. He had always considered himself unlucky, but being this unfortunate made him almost want to laugh.

"Where are you going?"

The annoying voice kept coming from behind. If they weren’t in front of the police station, he could have hit him, and if his leg weren’t injured, he could have run... the thought frustrated him. No matter how much he walked, the person behind didn’t seem to be getting any further away. He stopped and turned around to shoo him away.

"You're so damn annoying..."

Before he could finish his sentence, his foot slipped. A sharp pain shot through his right ankle, and he couldn’t keep his balance, falling into the snow piled on the side of the sidewalk. As his right arm was pulled, he looked up to see the man looking down at him with a worried expression, asking, "Are you okay?"

"Don’t touch me!"

He shouted, slapping the man’s hand away. He managed to stand up by himself, but maybe he had twisted his ankle in another odd way when he fell, because now just standing made his right ankle throb and pulse with pain. He couldn’t take a single step.

"The detective said you don’t seem to remember anything from the six years you’ve lost your memory. It must be unsettling to feel like you’ve suddenly aged. So, to help you sort out these six years, please come with me."

"Please," Fujishima said, bowing his head. The heavy snowfall and his wet clothes from the fall felt cold. If it hadn’t been nighttime, if it weren’t snowing, if his right foot didn’t hurt this much... If he weren’t filled with a hopeless feeling of having nothing left... he would have punched the man in front of him and gone somewhere. He could have gone.

Tohru looked down slowly, staring at his faint, blurry feet.

"I'll get the car, so please wait here."

A warm sensation spread across his back. When Tohru looked up, Fujishima was slowly backing away.

"I'll be back soon, very soon."

Before he could shrug off whatever was on his shoulders, the slim figure was already heading back to the police station. Under the cold snow, the black coat felt warm. He gently grasped the collar. He felt like he could faintly sense the warmth of another person from the clothes.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Legally, Fujishima and Tohru are brothers. However, in reality, they had no blood relation—they were complete strangers. Fujishima's father had acknowledged Tohru, an illegitimate child of a hostess he had met by chance and whose father was unknown, and brought him into the Fujishima family solely to spite his wife.

From the age of ten, when he was taken in by the Fujishima family, until he turned eighteen, Tohru believed without question that Fujishima’s father was his real father. It wasn’t until the winter of his senior year of high school, when Fujishima’s father passed away, that his stepmother called him a "parasite" and revealed the truth to him. From that day on, Tohru cut ties with the Fujishima family.

Keishi Fujishima was the eldest son of the Fujishima family. He was six years older than Tohru and was a high school student when Tohru was taken in by the Fujishima family. Among the Fujishima family, who were from a long-established dyeing house, Tohru was an "unwelcome guest," and Keishi was the only one who treated him kindly. But because of Keishi, Tohru learned firsthand that people are capable of betraying one another.

Through the car window, all Tohru could see was the blur of snow passing by. Even in the car, he didn't ask Fujishima where they were going. He knew he wouldn't understand even if he asked, and he didn't want to speak to him anyway. After driving for about four hours, including some time on the highway, the car finally entered the basement of a large building once the traces of snow had completely disappeared.

"We're here."

Hearing this, Tohru got out of the car. At the far end of the underground parking lot, there was an elevator, and Fujishima walked towards it. Tohru dragged his aching right foot behind him as he followed. He started having a bad feeling when they got into the elevator, and by the time the doors opened on the fifth floor, he knew for sure. The familiar railing, the hallway, the color of the front door—it was the same apartment building he had stormed out of two days earlier, the place where the nightmare began.

Inside the apartment, he was ushered into the living room. As soon as he saw the sofa, Tohru collapsed onto it. His right ankle throbbed with pain, pulsating as if there were a heartbeat inside it. After Fujishima left the room, Tohru lowered his head and buried it in his hands. His temples ached with a sharp pain.

"This..."

When he raised his head, there was a dark blue jacket in front of him.

"It must be cold with just a shirt. It'll take a little more time for the heating to warm up."

When he didn't take it, the jacket was gently placed on his lap. When Tohru knocked it off, Fujishima muttered, "If you’re not cold, then it’s fine," and picked up the fallen jacket, draping it over the back of the sofa. He then sat down on the opposite side.

"A lot has happened since the day before yesterday, and you must be tired. I know you probably want to rest right away, but could we talk for a bit first?"

The clock on the wall showed 2 a.m.—it was already the middle of the night. However, Tohru wasn’t sleepy at all. He wanted to know more about his current situation.

After a short silence, Fujishima took a deep breath and began to speak.

"Do you really not remember that you lost your memory after a severe injury in a car accident?"

Without answering, Tohru stared at his feet. The heating still hadn’t kicked in. To be honest, he was cold. The jacket was within arm’s reach, but he felt awkward about taking something he had already refused.

"Do you not remember living here with me for the six years you lost your memory, or working as a pastry chef?"

Hearing that they had lived together, Tohru looked up in surprise. So, during the time he lost his memory, he had been taken care of by Fujishima of all people. And being told he was a pastry chef, he couldn't even begin to imagine what that job entailed.

"Do you really not remember anything?"

Fujishima’s probing gaze made Tohru feel like he was being accused of something, and it irritated him.

"Stop asking the same damn thing over and over!"

He shouted, and Fujishima immediately shut his mouth and looked away. Although the room was warming up, Fujishima’s white fingertips were trembling slightly.

"...I see."

Fujishima murmured, glancing back at him.

"Let me just give you a brief rundown of the six years you’ve forgotten. Six years ago, when you were 22, you had a car accident, hit your head, and lost all memories of your name, age, and background. You developed amnesia. I had just gotten divorced and was living alone, and I had some financial leeway, so I decided to support you. You started working part-time at a bakery, developed an interest in making cakes, and went to a culinary school to get certified. Now, you’re training as a pastry chef at a hotel restaurant while making cakes."

Tohru furrowed his brow and squinted his eyes. Who was he talking about? That’s how he felt. As Fujishima spoke, he paused several times to gauge Tohru’s reactions, looking at him with eyes that seemed to ask if he really didn’t remember.

"That's pretty much it. Is there anything else you'd like to know in more detail?"

Tohru stared at his hands. He didn’t consider himself particularly skilled, and hearing about making cakes didn’t resonate with him at all. Even though he was told six years had passed, to him, it felt like just the other day.

He had a period when he had amnesia. But now he had regained his memory, forgetting the six years he had lost. In a way, things were back to how they were. And that was fine.

Besides, what would be the point of asking about things he didn’t remember? He would probably just get angry about the six wasted years.

As he stood up from the sofa, a sharp pain shot through his right ankle. "What’s wrong?" Fujishima asked.

"Where am I supposed to sleep?"

"Oh… right. Sorry to keep you when you’re so tired. Your room is immediately to the right after you enter the front door. If you want to take a shower, the bathroom is at the end of the hallway..."

Tohru left the living room before Fujishima could finish. Fujishima followed him down the hallway.

"Did something happen to your right foot? I’ve noticed you’ve been limping..."

As soon as he entered the room, Tohru slammed the door behind him with exaggerated force. Fujishima did not follow him inside. Perhaps the air conditioning had been set in advance because the room wasn’t as cold as the living room. When he turned on the light, he realized it was the place where he had woken up two days earlier. The room felt barren and impersonal… even being told this was his room, he couldn’t feel it.

He lay on the bed, flat on his back, and covered his eyes with his hand, letting out a deep, long sigh. Why did he have to get into a car accident… He deeply resented his own bad luck. If he hadn’t been in the accident, he wouldn’t have lost his memory, and he wouldn’t have wasted six years of his life.

He had planned to quit his job and enroll in a photography school after working for another six months. He had already sent for the application forms and saved up enough for the admission fee. Even if he managed to enter the school this year, he’d be thirty by the time he graduated. At an age when talented people were already striking out on their own and working hard, he would have to start at the bottom. There were things far more important to him than making cakes… Thinking this, tears welled up at the corners of his eyes.

He wondered if this was just a bad dream and if everything would go back to how it was tomorrow. Would the six lost years be returned to him exactly as they were? Throughout his life, he hadn’t had a single good thing happen. But then he discovered photography, wanted to become a photographer, and worked solely for his dream. He never thought something this trivial would make him stumble.

The bed was much softer than the floor of the detention cell. Yet that softness only fueled an inexplicable sense of anxiety. It was better when he had been lying on the cold floor, knowing nothing. Back then, he didn’t understand anything, and even if he had wanted to think, he couldn’t. But once you learn something, you can’t help but think about it. What should he do from now on? He wanted to pursue photography—he would, no matter what. But did he have enough money to go to school? If he didn’t, he would have to work again. His dream would be pushed even further away. And his camera… Where did the camera he cherished so much go?

A sharp pain shot through his right foot. It throbbed painfully, even though he wasn’t doing anything. Why did he have to be writhing in this kind of anxiety? He lay face down on the bed, trying to confront the anxiety rising in his chest. But he felt as if he might be swallowed by it, so he clenched his teeth hard. This is no joke, no joke at all.

He heard a knock on the door. Even though he didn’t answer, the door clicked open, and Tohru hurriedly looked up, shouting angrily.

“Don’t just come in without permission!”

The man stopped in his tracks right at the doorway.

“I knocked, but there was no answer, so I thought you might be asleep. I’m sorry.”

Even though they were inside the house, for some reason, Fujishima was wearing a coat. He slowly crouched down and placed a small paper bag next to the door.

“I’ve been worried about you limping on your right foot. I only got some cooling patches, but please use them if you like. ...Well, goodnight.”

Fujishima gently closed the door. After the footsteps faded and there was no sign of anyone in the hallway, Tohru crawled to the door and rummaged through the bag. As he opened it, a receipt fell out along with the patches. The printed time and amount showed 2:40 a.m. It seemed he had gone out in the middle of the night specifically to buy them. As always, Fujishima's gentle demeanor was impeccable. But no matter how kindly he acted, at the core of that man was “hypocrisy.” Tohru had learned this all too well back then.

Tohru stared at the cold pack in his hand for a while, then tossed it into the trash. He climbed into bed, still in his clothes. The pain in his right foot, which he had forgotten about, began to flare up again.

Since he could remember, Tohru had always been alone. He could only be with his hostess mother for three hours after he came home from school. After 7 p.m., his mother would always dress up and leave for work. After that, the television was his only companion. But a companion who didn’t respond or converse felt lonely.

In fifth grade, Tohru was abandoned by his mother and taken in by the Fujishima family. The members of the Fujishima family ignored him as if he didn’t exist, except for Fujishima himself. Fujishima talked to him, hugged him gently. Unaware of any ulterior motives, Tohru grew attached to this seemingly kind man.

The stepmother in the main house disliked seeing Fujishima and Tohru getting along. So, at night, Tohru would secretly visit Fujishima’s room, making sure not to be caught. Fujishima gave him clothes, kimonos, and books that he no longer wore or used. He also helped him study. When Tohru felt lonely, Fujishima would sleep next to him. It was the first time Tohru had met someone older who listened to him seriously, and he was simply happy to have someone pay attention to him.

That’s why he was shocked when Fujishima tried to do something inappropriate to him. Tohru had said no, but Fujishima didn’t stop, and it scared him so much that he nearly cried. He pushed Fujishima away and fled in a panic. When he ran back to his room in the separate wing, being alone again made him afraid. It wasn’t because he remembered the inappropriate act. It was because he was worried he might have angered Fujishima. Running away so suddenly, Fujishima might have gotten angry. He might stop being kind, stop talking to him. Then, he would be alone again. Left by himself, and that was what scared him.

The day after that incident, the stepmother caught Tohru going in and out of Fujishima's room and punished him. But it wasn’t a mild punishment; it was abuse. She beat him so much with a bamboo broom that he nearly lost consciousness from the pain... During this ordeal, Fujishima appeared. Tohru thought he would be saved. He believed, without a doubt, that Fujishima would help him. But Fujishima didn’t help. He just stood there watching. Not only did he just watch, but he also lied. The clothes and books that had been in the separate annex were things Fujishima had given him, yet he didn’t say so. He didn’t deny the accusation that Tohru had stolen them.

Tohru thought it was revenge. Because he had pushed Fujishima away when he tried to touch him, that’s why he didn’t help. When Tohru realized that Fujishima only wanted to do something inappropriate and didn’t actually care about him, his heart turned pitch black. He wanted the damn old hag who beat him to die. But even more than that, he hated Keishi Fujishima, the man who had abandoned him when he needed him most.

After being abused and severely injured, Tohru was transferred to a boarding elementary school. He continued living in dormitories through middle and high school. During summer and winter vacations, while his classmates went home, Tohru spent long breaks in the dormitory every year. When friends asked why he didn’t go home, he lied and said, “My parents are dead.”

In his second year of middle school, he was bullied. Because he didn’t talk much, he was labeled as “gloomy” and became the target of mean classmates. They ordered him to withdraw his monthly allowance from his father the day it was deposited and took all of it, leaving him in a dire situation where he couldn’t even buy a single piece of clothing or a notebook.

The bullying continued for a year and eventually came to the attention of his homeroom teacher because of a cheating incident. The mean classmates demanded that Tohru, who had good grades, share his answers during tests. Even though he knew it was wrong, he couldn’t defy them and gave in to their threats. The cheating went unnoticed for a while. The teacher only became suspicious when Tohru and his classmate always had identical scores, with the same answers marked wrong in the same way.

When confronted by the teacher, Tohru confessed he was being bullied and had been coerced into providing answers. His father must have heard about the bullying, but there wasn’t even a phone call asking, “Are you okay?” or a single letter. He no longer expected anything from people. Even if he trusted someone, they would betray him. But with no response, he felt he wasn’t worth any concern.

The bullying became more malicious and elaborate, and nothing changed. One day, as usual, Tohru was called behind the school building and was being beaten by four classmates, who called it a “game.” Suddenly, he thought the sky looked beautiful. It had been a long time since he felt that way, and he was overwhelmed by a desire to die. Once they grew tired of kicking him, once this was over, he thought he would kill himself. Then, he would be free. There would be no more pain.

He dreamed that jumping from the corner of the school building visible at the edge of the sky might feel like flying, like being a bird. He thought so, lost in a daze.

However, the sharp kick to his stomach brought him back to his senses. Even if he died, the lives of these guys who were hitting and kicking him so relentlessly wouldn’t change. They would just laugh and say, "That guy died," then find their next target and do the same thing. Over and over again... A strong anger welled up from the pit of his stomach. It was a kind of emotional upheaval he had never experienced before. If he was going to die, he might as well take one of them down with him. Otherwise, it would be truly pathetic.

Tohru slowly got up and staggered toward the classmate who had the most authority among the four, swinging a punch. He was easily knocked down and fell. Laughter echoed in his head. Amused by his efforts, feet stomped on his curled-up back, one after another. He managed to grab one of them and, with all his might, bit down on it. Even though his opponent screamed and he was beaten so hard on the head that it started bleeding, he didn’t let go. It wasn’t until a teacher, who had rushed to the scene after hearing the commotion, pinched his nose, forcing him to open his mouth to breathe, that he released his bite. The classmate whom Tohru had bitten ended up needing seven stitches on his right foot. Even then, Tohru’s father didn’t reprimand him at all.

Having learned to resist and fight back, Tohru no longer suffered from violence. He realized that if he hurt others before they could hurt him and hammered his strength into their minds, he would be safe. Whenever something annoyed him even a little, he would punch. Most people would back off at that, and things would go his way. Every time he hit someone, every time he saw people obey him in fear, he thought they were pathetic creatures.

In the spring of his second year of high school, having grown taller than 180 centimeters (5’11), Tohru caused a violent incident right after advancing to the next grade and was ordered to stay home. On a whim, he decided to return to the Fujishima house. Ignoring the strange looks from the servants and the people of the Fujishima family, he took over the guest room on the first floor, drinking alcohol and smoking openly. He punched a servant who cautiously tried to reprimand him, deliberately trampled over the flowerbed that his stepmother cherished, and acted insolently.

He enjoyed the way his stepmother glared at him as if she wanted to curse him to death. Even with that look, the woman couldn’t lift a finger against him. He was no longer the small child who would get beaten into submission. If he wanted to, he could tear her apart. He now had the power to do so.

Fujishima, the traitor and pervert, just watched him from afar, saying nothing. Whenever their eyes met, he would tense up, but he never learned to run away, lacking any sense of self-preservation. Taking advantage of this, Tohru hit Fujishima every time they crossed paths. Every time the man, now shorter than Tohru, rolled to his feet, Tohru felt a mix of satisfaction and intense irritation.

From the summer onward, every time he was suspended from school or on a long break, Tohru would return to the Fujishima house. To harass his stepmother and Fujishima... and to see his father. The first time he came back, Tohru accidentally ran into his father in the hallway. It was the first time they had faced each other properly since Tohru had been taken in by the Fujishima family. Although he had occasionally seen him from a distance, they never spoke. Even when he was hospitalized with serious injuries, at entrance ceremonies, or at graduations, his father had never shown up. His father, in a wheelchair, looked up at him and muttered, "Don’t cause too much trouble." "Don’t cause trouble"—those words echoed repeatedly in his chest.

After that, he repeatedly violated school rules and was ordered to stay home, returning each time. He wondered what his father would say next, what kind of conversation they might have. He was always waiting for words beyond the admonishments.

The childish desire to be cared for and noticed by his only blood relative shattered completely when he was eighteen. When Tohru learned that he wasn’t his father's child and not even the son of his father's mistress, he lost his only refuge and fell into despair.

In despair, he left home. No matter how many times he trusts, he gets betrayed, again and again... If he had to feel this way, he didn’t want family ties, kindness, or expectations. He wished for anything that could hurt him to disappear from this world.

Two or three months after leaving home, Fujishima suddenly visited him. Just seeing his face made Tohru so furious that he drove him away at the entrance. Fujishima visited several more times, but Tohru ignored him. Then a lawyer claiming to be Fujishima’s representative came and started talking about inheritance procedures or something. Tohru saw no reason to take money from "a stranger" and didn’t listen. The final contact was a letter. Since it had no sender’s name, he accidentally opened it. Inside, it said, "If you ever need help, I’m here for you," along with a phone number. He read it once and threw it away.

The night he threw the letter away, Tohru thought about it. Why would a "stranger" go out of their way to get involved when they could just leave him alone? Were they trying to tame him with money and use him for their own benefit? Or was it because that pervert still had an interest in his body?

If he was still interested in his body... What if back then, when he was little, he hadn’t rejected Fujishima’s touch? If he had just endured it a little, suppressed his disgust, and let him touch him, maybe he wouldn’t have been betrayed so cruelly.

Even after more than ten years, he still couldn’t break free from those thoughts. It hurt because he knew why he couldn’t let go. No matter how much of a pervert or a liar he was, Tohru didn’t know anyone who had been as kind to him as Keishi Fujishima.

The wounds on his body had healed over time. But the complex wounds carved into his heart festered endlessly, never closing.

Footnotes

0. Content warning: bullying, su*cide mention.

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