Chapter 1 River's End - part 1

While you may already be familiar with these terms, I’ve provided their English definitions for those who may not be. I’ve also changed the name order to First and Last, rather than the Last and First order used in the original Japanese text.

1. さん (san): This is a general, respectful suffix used to address or refer to someone. It's similar to "Mr.," "Mrs.," or "Ms." in English. It's commonly used for people of all ages and social statuses in both formal and informal contexts.

2. 君 (kun): This suffix is often used for addressing younger males, or in a more familiar or casual setting. It can be used with people of the same or lower status, and it's commonly used among friends, students, or in professional settings where there is a clear hierarchy (like between a superior and a subordinate). 

3. ちゃん (chan): This suffix is used to express affection or endearment, typically towards children, pets, or close friends. It conveys a sense of familiarity and warmth, and is often used with people who are younger or of the same age but with whom one shares a close, informal relationship. While it can be used for both males and females, it is more commonly used for females and children.

Content warning: This novel contains descriptions of explicit sexual content, and r*pe. I will not be adding a trigger warning to each chapter with graphic content, so please consider this a general warning.

TOC Next

The loud thud of a sliding door slamming shut jolted Shunji Tokame awake. When he raised his head, the room was empty. Not a single person around.

Beyond the corridor’s windowpane, he could see a group walking away. There were a few of his classmates: Ninomiya and Shibazaki, who sat behind him, along with their buddies Itou and Hamaguchi. That loud, careless noise had to have come from one of them. Their obnoxious, idiot-like laughter floated faintly through the glass.

Among the four, Ninomiya suddenly turned his head and glanced in Tokame’s direction. Their eyes met for a brief moment, but the next second, Ninomiya looked away without a trace of interest. Even after they were gone, the hallway was filled with the noisy clamor of other students’ footsteps and voices.

On the blackboard in front of him, scrawled in messy handwriting, were the words “General Science, Third Classroom.” The clock above showed 10:28. Just two minutes left of break time.

Tokame stood, pulling out his pencil case, textbook, and notebook. Moving to another classroom felt like a hassle. The third classroom was in another building, which meant taking the stairs, and the hall would definitely be freezing. The thought of skipping class was tempting. He’d already ditched enough last term to get a lecture from his homeroom teacher. Dropping out didn’t sound bad, but wasting the last ten months of high school would be a shame. He might’ve been better off working from the start.

It was only the beginning of the third term. With a heavy sigh, he gathered his materials and left the classroom. As he walked down the corridor, the bell began to ring. He kept his pace steady, even as hurried footsteps approached from behind.

“You’re taking your sweet time,” a voice said.

He turned to find his homeroom teacher, Tora, standing there. His real name was Kouta Atsumi, but everyone called him Tora. The nickname had stuck with him even among the upperclassmen, supposedly from some movie character, though Tokame had never seen the series.

“Such a drag,” Tokame muttered.

“You’re younger than me, so get a move on.”

Tora was thirty-six this year, chubby, wore glasses, and was starting to bald up top—a young guy going bald. Tora gave him a light smack on the back with the attendance book, and with a click of his tongue, Tokame quickened his pace, if only slightly.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

“Alright, that’s it.”

With Bald Tora’s voice signaling the end of class, the room erupted with the sound of chairs scraping back. Tokame rubbed his eyes and let out a big yawn. He’d slept through yet another class. His notebook was spread open on the desk, but he couldn’t remember scribbling a single line. A group of students in black uniforms bolted out of the classroom, eager to leave like birds suddenly set free.

Tokame stayed slumped over his desk, waiting for the noise to die down. Once the last person had left, he slowly stood up. He’d always hated crowds and groups of people. Keeping his head down, he slipped out into the hallway, only to collide with someone.

“Ugh.”

The impact made him drop his textbook and pencil case. The person he’d bumped into was Hiroshi Ninomiya from his class. Ninomiya was barely over 160 centimeters (5’2’’), short and slight, with a small head and body. He was a loudmouth who never seemed to stop talking.

Ninomiya bent down, apparently intending to help pick up the things Tokame had dropped. Tokame instinctively bent down too. Just as Ninomiya straightened up, his small head whacked Tokame’s chin with a solid thud. For a moment, Tokame thought he saw sparks. The unexpected uppercut sent him reeling back, while Ninomiya groaned, clutching his head with one hand.

“Haha!”

Seeing Tokame holding his chin, the annoying little guy inexplicably burst into laughter.

“Oh, my bad, my bad.”

Ninomiya, still shaking with laughter, handed Tokame his textbook and pencil case. Tokame snatched them from his hand.

“Don’t laugh, damn it.”

Tokame’s voice was tense with irritation, and Ninomiya’s cheerful expression froze instantly, as if it had been put on pause.

“This seriously hurts, you know. And what’s with the ‘my bad’? You don’t feel bad at all, do you? Then don’t bother saying it, idiot.”

Tokame shoved the stunned Ninomiya aside and went back into the classroom. His irritation simmered for a while, but by the time the next class started and the sunlight wrapped around him like a warm blanket, it had mostly faded.

His seat by the window was warm. The nights were cold, so he wished it could stay daytime forever. He also wished spring would hurry up; winter was too cold. If he could be reborn, he thought, he’d like to come back as a cat.

After school, once homeroom was over, he rode his bike straight to the gas station on the outskirts of town. “Welcome,” “High-octane or regular?” “Do you have a membership card?” He repeated these phrases about fifty times, until his sense of smell went numb from the gas fumes. Finally, it was 11:00 PM and his shift was over.

The ride home took fifteen minutes. His house, old and rundown, stood out even in a residential area. He left his bike in the yard and fished out his key. With the porch light out, it was too dark, and he missed the keyhole twice. The sliding door rattled noisily as he opened it.

Walking down the creaky hallway, he slid open the paper door, where a faint light was leaking through a crack. His older sister, Koharu, sat in the center of the six-tatami room, hugging her knees and watching TV. She was still wearing the same sweater and skirt she’d worn when she left for work that morning. It didn’t look like she’d washed up.

The kitchen water heater had been broken since they moved in, and right before New Year’s, the bath heater broke too. With no money for repairs, they boiled water in the kitchen and washed with that.

The day the bath broke, Koharu had cut her hair. It had never been long, just brushing her shoulders, but she’d cropped it short like a boy, saying, “Washing my hair is a hassle.” Not something you’d expect a twenty-one-year-old woman to say.

The small table where dinner was usually laid out was empty. Tokame went to the kitchen, but all he found was uncooked rice and some furikake seasoning.

“Koharu, where’s my dinner?”

Koharu ignored him, her eyes glued to the TV.

“Answer me, hey!”

Only when he raised his voice did she finally turn around. Her small, wide-set eyes glared at him.

“Hey, Shunji, don’t you have anything you want to tell me?”

Her voice was low.

“I don’t have anything to say. Just, where’s dinner?”

“If you come clean now, I’ll forgive you. So be honest.”

With a click of his tongue, Tokame threw his school bag onto the tatami mat.

“What the hell are you going on about? Where’s the food?”

Koharu narrowed her eyes and let out a short laugh through her nose.

“You can starve for all I care.”

She spat the words out and stood up.

“Why am I not getting dinner? Don’t mess with me, damn it!”

Ignoring his angry shout, Koharu slipped into the next room, slamming the sliding door shut behind her. Left with no choice, Tokame washed some rice and put a single portion in the rice cooker. He also started boiling water. He figured he might as well clean up before the rice was done cooking.

As he watched the large pot of water bubbling, he wondered if he’d done anything to irritate Koharu—but he couldn’t think of a reason. Maybe she was just taking it out on him, venting over something that happened at the factory. That thought made the whole thing feel even more unfair, and frustration simmered inside him.

Finally, the water was ready. Tokame carried the boiling water to the bathroom, poured it into a basin, and mixed in cold water. He quickly stripped down and began to wash. The brief warmth from the water was soon stolen by the cold air, turning it to a chill on his skin almost immediately. Shivering, he washed his hands and hair. Even after scrubbing with soap, the smell of gasoline lingered stubbornly.

He didn’t think of their inconvenient life as unbearable. Just having food to eat, a roof over their heads, and a way to keep clean felt like a hundred times better than before.

Up until six years ago, Tokame’s family—his father, Koharu, his younger brother Shunsuke, and himself—had lived in a park. Until Shunsuke turned one, they’d rented an apartment, but his father’s gambling addiction and subsequent debts left them unable to pay the rent, and they were evicted.

Whenever his father lost a bet, he would drink himself into a stupor, damaging his liver. Since then, he had been in and out of the hospital. He was currently in a bad phase, so he was hospitalized again. Whenever he came home, he drank even if it meant borrowing money to do so, and when he was in the hospital, the bills piled up. Either way, his father was an expensive burden.

Six years ago, when Koharu got a job at a factory after finishing middle school, her boss kindly let them live in this near-abandoned house for a token rent. Thanks to that, Tokame and Shunsuke finally started attending elementary school regularly. Before then, they’d moved from park to park on their father’s whims, so Tokame rarely went to school.

Once he’d finished washing up, Tokame shivered as he changed into a sweatshirt and tracksuit. He went to the kitchen and sat by the sink, waiting for the rice to finish cooking. His damp bangs clung to his forehead, making him feel irritated. He’d been meaning to ask Koharu to cut his hair, but with her in that mood, it’d probably be a while before he got around to it.

Footsteps padded softly along the hallway. Koharu usually moved with a quicker, more determined step, so he figured it was Shunsuke. Sure enough, his younger brother was peeking in through a crack in the door.

Shunsuke was in fifth grade and wasn’t the brightest. Despite attending school consistently since first grade, unlike Tokame and Koharu, he sometimes came home with test scores of zero.

Tokame and Koharu had faced a fair share of bullying in school, especially during middle school. Perhaps because of these bitter experiences, Koharu made an effort to keep Shunsuke’s clothes clean and presentable, refusing to let him wear anything dirty or shabby. She wanted him to look like a normal kid, but despite her efforts, Shunsuke never spoke about friends in front of them.

“…Come on over,” Tokame said.

Shunsuke entered the kitchen and sat down beside Tokame, hugging his knees. Small for his age, Shunsuke was scrawny, with thin, stick-like limbs.

“Are you fighting with sis?”

His usually cheerful voice was now subdued. Tokame ruffled Shunsuke’s small head roughly, saying, “Nah, that’s not it.”

“She’s probably just irritable before her period. Women are a pain to deal with before that.”

“Hmm,” Shunsuke replied, nodding as if he understood. Just then, the rice cooker beeped to signal the rice was ready. Tokame stood up and turned to his little brother.

“Want an onigiri?”

Shunsuke’s lips curled into a slight smile, and he nodded. “Yeah.”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

During lunch break, Tokame slipped out of school and headed to a nearby park. Back in elementary school, he’d had school-provided lunches, but since starting middle school, he’d stopped eating lunch. With no money, he simply couldn’t afford it. He was used to hunger and could deal with it, but watching others eat made it tough, so he preferred to go outside. In the beginning, he would go to the rooftop, but once others started eating there, he changed locations.

Leaving campus during breaks was against the rules, but nobody really followed them. Everyone went out to buy lunch or snacks. There were no teachers patrolling during lunch, so it was almost an unofficial rule.

He made his way to his usual spot, stepping over a thick cluster of azalea bushes and into a restricted area in the hedges. The lawn was neatly mowed, perfect for lying down. The sun was out, but the breeze was chilly… too cold to sleep.

A sudden whiff of a savory aroma mixed with the dry scent of the wind. Two women in green uniforms sat on a bench just beyond the bushes. It must’ve been their lunch break, and without noticing Tokame hidden in the thicket, they started eating. He debated moving to a different spot, but then the wind shifted, and the smell faded. He closed his eyes again, trying to drift off, but it was just too cold.

“Wow, are you done already?”

One of the women, the one with short hair, spoke in a surprised tone. The woman with long hair gave a small nod.

“Yeah, I’m full. I’m trying to diet a bit, too.”

The long-haired woman threw her fast-food bag into the trash can. Not long after, they both stood up and left. Watching them exit the park, Tokame finally emerged from the bushes. He walked over to the trash can and picked up the bag they’d thrown away. Inside, he found half a hamburger and almost a full serving of fries. Sitting on the bench, Tokame ate the burger.

He held a fry in his mouth and looked up at the sky. Getting lunch out of the blue… maybe today would be a good day after all.

He returned to school with two minutes to spare before the afternoon classes began and took his seat. As the chime started ringing, two-thirds of the students were already seated. The teacher hadn’t arrived yet, so the room was abuzz with chatter.

The sound of the sliding door caught everyone’s attention, and the noise died down. A few students hurried back to their seats. But instead of the teacher, it was Ninomiya who popped in at the front of the classroom. The tension in the room instantly relaxed.

“Hey, don’t scare us like that!” someone shouted.

Ninomiya chuckled, saying, “My bad, my bad,” as he scratched his head sheepishly and went to his seat two rows behind Tokame.

“You weren’t around during lunch, were you?” asked Shibazaki, Ninomiya’s friend.

“Forgot my lunch, so I went home to eat.”

“You could’ve just gone to the cafeteria.”

“I just bought Liz’s new album, so I’m out of money.”

“Oh, I wanna hear it too! Lend it to me.”

“Fine, but make sure you give it back soon. You always take forever when I lend you stuff.”

Both Ninomiya and Shibazaki talked a lot. Seating was only rearranged every term, so Tokame was stuck here until the third term ended. He liked his spot by the window but found those two obnoxious.

Five minutes after class started, Kawamoto—the social studies teacher—finally entered. Nicknamed “Jiki” (short for “Automatic Scribe”) because he filled the blackboard with notes, Kawamoto was known for his extensive board-writing.

Jiki’s voice and the sound of chalk on the board were monotonous. Plus, today his stomach was full from an unexpected lunch… making him feel drowsy. Tokame slid his chair back and slumped over his desk.

Suddenly, something hit his shoulder, jolting him awake. He looked around and saw Ninomiya pressing his hands together in an apologetic gesture. On the floor, by his feet, was a small white tablet, about the size of a blazer button. On closer look, it wasn’t a tablet—it was a ramune candy. Recently, ramune candies from a local candy shop had become a quiet trend in the class.

Tokame clicked his tongue in irritation and turned back around. In his peripheral vision, he saw tiny white candies flying through the air. Ninomiya and three or four of his friends were hooking ramune pieces onto rubber bands and launching them at each other.

“…and so, this…”

Holding a textbook in one hand and chalk in the other, Jiki turned around to face the class. At that moment, one of the flying candies sailed right into his open mouth. Jiki froze, his neck extending in surprise like a startled chicken, as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

After a brief silence, the class erupted in laughter. Jiki choked, coughing out the candy, and shouted in a shrill voice, “Wh-what the… stop messing around!”

“W-Who… who threw that at me?!”

Jiki’s face was flushed with anger.

“I’m asking who it was!”

The classroom fell silent. No one dared meet Jiki’s eyes.

“It’s outrageous to make a fool out of someone like this!”

He hastily gathered his belongings from the teacher’s podium and stormed out of the classroom. The moment his footsteps faded, the room exploded with noise. Students were standing up, talking—within seconds, the classroom was buzzing with chatter. But about ten minutes later, the homeroom teacher, Bald Tora, burst in, instantly silencing everyone.

“What the hell are you all doing in the middle of class?”

Normally calm, Bald Tora had a certain intimidating force when he yelled that made everyone fall silent.

“You’ve all been slacking off lately,” he continued.

Tokame looked down, letting out a small yawn.

“Who was it that threw the ramune at Kawamoto-sensei?”

As if they’d agreed beforehand, the room fell into silence. Bald Tora crossed his arms and scanned the classroom.

“Speak up. Be honest.”

Three minutes passed… five minutes… Finally, the bell signaling the end of class rang. A wave of relief spread through the students, thinking they were off the hook.

“If no one steps up, none of you are going home today. Everyone will stay after school!”

A chorus of complaints rose from around the room: “Come on,” “You’ve got to be kidding…”

“If you don’t want to inconvenience everyone, take responsibility and come forward.”

Bald Tora was serious, and the prospect of being kept after school wasn’t appealing. Tokame clicked his tongue in irritation and raised his right hand.

“Tokame, it was you?”

He avoided Bald Tora’s glare and shrugged.

“I don’t know who actually hit him. But the ones playing with the ramune were Ninomiya, Shibazaki, Itou, and Hamaguchi.”

The classroom buzzed with whispers. Bald Tora stepped down from the podium and stopped in front of each of the named students, demanding, “Was it you?” Eventually, all four of them, led by Ninomiya, accepted responsibility with a resigned “Yes.”

“All four of you, report to the staff room after school! Don’t even think about skipping—otherwise, I’ll make sure you repeat the year!”

Leaving them with that threat, Bald Tora exited the room. The class quickly stirred with murmurs: “What a jerk…” “That was so out of line…”

“Hey!”

Tokame felt a rough hand grab his shoulder, and he turned to see Ninomiya glaring down at him, his mouth twisted in anger.

“…You really went and ratted us out to Bald Tora, didn’t you?”

Tokame shook off Ninomiya’s hand without a word, a smirk escaping him. Ninomiya’s cheek twitched with irritation.

“Don’t act so smug! Say something! You’re always looking down on people with that mocking look.”

The noise was only getting louder, and the attention from the classmates was even more annoying. Tokame stood up, deliberately scraping his chair noisily, and walked out of the classroom. Ninomiya followed him.

“Hey, stop right there!”

Ignoring Ninomiya’s voice behind him, Tokame walked down the hall and up the stairs. Just before he reached the door to the rooftop, he heard Ninomiya yell, “You’re just a trash-eating dog!”

“I saw you digging through the trash at the park. How could you eat someone else’s leftovers? That’s disgusting!”

Tokame turned around, looking at Ninomiya’s smug expression. Amusement rose within him, and he laughed, loud enough to ring in the hall. Ninomiya’s sneer faltered. “Wh-What are you laughing at?”

“So what if I did?”

As Tokame stepped forward, Ninomiya instinctively took a step back.

“If you want to spread rumors, go ahead. Tell everyone I’m a trash-eating dog.”

Ninomiya averted his eyes under Tokame’s glare.

“Are you mad because I ratted you out? That’s your own fault, isn’t it? I have a job after school, and I don’t want to be late. I don’t care what you do during class, but don’t mess things up for other people, you ape.”

Leaving Ninomiya behind, his face red with anger, Tokame stepped out onto the rooftop. The sky was as vast as ever. School was such a hassle.

He returned to the classroom a while after the bell rang. When he opened the sliding door at the back of the room, a few students turned around, and Morikawa, the Modern Japanese teacher, raised an eyebrow.

“…Tokame, where have you been?”

“Bathroom. Had an upset stomach.”

He walked down the aisle, past Ninomiya’s seat, and sat down in his chair.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The part-time shift ended, leaving Tokame covered in the scent of gasoline and ringing with the echo of shouts. Even after peeling off his work uniform in the break room, the smell of oil clung to him. He dreaded the thought that his own clothes might start to smell like this soon.

“Good work,” said Ooyama, a university student on the same shift, as he walked in with a can of coffee in hand. Tokame felt his gaze and looked back; sure enough, Ooyama was watching him.

“Need something?”

“Nah, it’s just that seeing you in uniform reminds me you’re actually a high schooler. You’re tall and look older, so at first, I thought you were my age.”

After finishing his coffee, Ooyama tossed the can into the trash by the window.

“Hey, that girl waiting outside—is she a friend of yours?”

Looking out the window, Tokame saw Koharu standing at the edge of the gas station.

“Oh, that’s my sister.”

“Oh!” Ooyama let out a weird noise. A flirt who never missed a chance, Ooyama had been chatting up some female customer today and had been yelled at by the manager.

“Introduce me to your sister sometime.”

“You’re interested in her? She’s not exactly a beauty.”

“As long as she’s a woman, I’m not picky,” Ooyama smirked.

“Trust me, she’s got a sharp tongue. You wouldn’t want to.”

Shrugging off Ooyama, Tokame stepped outside to find that it had started to snow. Koharu, her lips tinged purple from the cold, muttered a quick “Good job.” Her breath came out in puffs of white. She wore a coat, but her legs were bare in stockings under her skirt, which made Tokame feel cold just looking at her.

Koharu was slim and had a decent figure, but her wide-set eyes, small mouth, and fish-like face didn’t lend her much charm. She wasn’t the kind of girl most guys would call cute at first sight.

“What are you doing here?”

It had been four days since the night she hadn’t left him any dinner. Although she’d started setting aside his meals since then, she hadn’t spoken a word to him.

“Am I not allowed to come pick you up?”

Her tone was harsh. Tokame had half expected her to apologize, but Koharu said nothing more. He pushed his bike and walked alongside her. Since she was only about 150 centimeters (4’9’’) tall, he could see the top of her head as they walked side by side.

“Dad’s debt… there’s still 3.8 million yen left to pay off.”

“Wait, didn’t it go up?”

“Are you an idiot?” Koharu muttered, sounding exasperated.

“Debt comes with interest, you know.”

Their father had racked up debts bit by bit until they passed 3.5 million yen, then he’d wrecked his liver. Koharu was repaying the debt bit by bit from her meager wages at the factory. Still, it grew, little by little, like snow piling up.

“I could just quit school,” Tokame offered.

With a sharp tap of her shoes, Koharu stopped in her tracks.

“No.”

“If I started working, it’d make things easier, wouldn’t it?”

“Absolutely not. Wages for middle school grads are terrible. You’re going to finish high school and make more money. Until then, I’ll handle this.”

She brought her hands up to her mouth and exhaled into them. Her ungloved fingertips were bright red from the cold.

“…I stopped by the hospital on my way home. Remember when they said they found a shadow on Dad’s liver? Turns out it was cancer. They said he has only six months left.”

Tokame gripped his bike handlebars tightly. “Huh,” he muttered.

“It’s too advanced to operate. There’s nothing they can do.”

“Well, at least that means it won’t cost much,” he said.

Koharu lowered her gaze and said nothing, falling in step beside him. As they approached a large bridge, the wind blew across the open expanse, making it feel even colder.

“Shunji!”

In the middle of the bridge, Koharu suddenly grabbed his arm.

“Why did you steal my money?”

She shook him violently, and Tokame nearly toppled over with his bike.

“H-Hey! Stop it!”

Her grip on his arm only tightened further.

“I’m asking you why you stole the money!” Koharu’s voice was strained. “At first… I thought, well, maybe it was fine. I figured you might have one or two things you wanted for yourself. But three times now—three times you’ve taken bills from my wallet, the last time just two days ago. It’s made keeping up with the debt payments nearly impossible. At the end of the year, those guys even threatened to show up at my workplace, so…”

Her eyes, glaring up at him, were almost frightening in their intensity.

“Stop taking money without permission. I worked for that—it’s my money. What did you even spend those thirty thousand yen on? With that much, we might’ve been able to fix the water heater for the bath, you know.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Stole? I didn’t take anything! I give you all my pay from work, don’t I?”

“But it’s gone. I’ve looked everywhere, and it’s just not there. And there’s no way someone would break into that old haunted house of ours three times, right?”

“I told you, it wasn’t me!” Tokame yelled.

“Then who else could it have been?!”

Tears spilled from Koharu’s wide, fish-like eyes, and she glared at him with a fierce expression, one that hardly looked like that of a crying woman.

“I… I can’t even talk about this in front of Shunsuke. I don’t ever want him hearing his siblings argue about stealing money!”

“I’m telling you, it wasn’t me.”

A loud smack echoed through the air, and a sharp sting flared across his cheek.

“Don’t bother coming home, you thief! Even if you do, I’ll never let you inside, you idiot!”

Koharu ran off. Only after her figure disappeared from view did Tokame mutter, “Damn it,” under his breath.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Tokame thought about heading back to his part-time job at the gas station to ask if he could crash in the break room or storage area. But when he got there, the lights were off, and it was clear the place had emptied out for the night.

The idea of sneaking into the high school briefly crossed his mind. It wasn’t impossible, but if he got caught, it would be a hassle, and he didn’t want to cause trouble at school. He knew all too well that any blame would fall on his parents and his home life—he’d been reminded of that enough in middle school, being told it was because his father was an alcoholic, because they’d been homeless.

With no money and a growling stomach, he felt the weight of the cold as snow began to fall. He thought about hopping from convenience store to convenience store but wanted somewhere he could actually lie down and rest.

So, Tokame went to a nearby convenience store and managed to persuade the clerk to give him a pile of cardboard boxes. He loaded them onto his bike and rode to the park where he often went during lunch breaks.

In the daytime, he’d sometimes see homeless people in the park, but at night they probably moved to warmer spots, like near the station. After circling around, he chose a spot along a wall, near some bushes that would block the wind. It was far enough from the streetlights to stay hidden.

He rolled the cardboard into tubes and nested smaller boxes inside larger ones to create layers of insulation. Then he climbed into his makeshift shelter. It wasn’t like being indoors, and it was still cold, but he could manage. With his winter coat on, it was bearable, and he figured he wouldn’t freeze to death in this weather.

Just as he shut the "lid" of his cardboard house and started to close his eyes, the whole structure shook with a heavy kick. Startled, he peeked out and saw a tall shadow looking down at him.

“No way, are you serious?”

The voice, unmistakably Ninomiya’s, dripped with mockery.

“Are you really homeless? Since when?”

There was no doubt about it—only that irritating loudmouth would be stupid enough to mess with him like this.

“Stop kicking it,” Tokame muttered, closing the lid again. But the kicking continued, making his cardboard home shake.

“Go away, damn it!”

He leaned halfway out of the box and yelled, and Ninomiya’s shadow finally backed off.

“Well, aren’t you cold or something? It’s snowing out here.”

Ignoring him, Tokame retreated back into his cardboard shelter. He heard Ninomiya shuffling around nearby, rustling the bushes before he finally pedaled away on his bike. By tomorrow, that chatterbox would probably spread stories to their classmates about how “Tokame ate trash” or “Tokame slept in the park.”

Tokame was used to it. He didn’t care. Back in elementary and middle school, he’d been called “stinky,” “dirty,” “trash”—the list went on. It was true; he had been dirty and smelled. He hadn’t bathed, and he didn’t even know people changed their underwear every day.

It must have seemed pathetic. In reality, he’d mostly gone to school just to eat the free lunch. No matter how much he was teased for being dirty or smelly, it wasn’t as bad as being hungry. Name-calling could be ignored, but hunger could only be satisfied with food.

Life had changed a little since they’d found a place to live. Now he changed his underwear every day, washed his body and hair so he wouldn’t smell, and tried to get rid of any habits that might disgust others. Even so, there were still people who found something to say. When that happened, he’d just imagine a noisy bird perched by his ear and ignore it. He didn’t argue or complain. In the classroom, he’d made himself as invisible as air.

As he lay there, turning over a few times to get comfortable, a different urge suddenly crept up on him. He hesitated, but the urge was too strong. He unzipped the pants of his school uniform, slipping his hand inside his pants to touch himself, braving the cold against his fingertips.

With only two rooms at home, he usually shared his bed with his younger brother, Shunsuke, which made it difficult to find any privacy. The only barrier between them was a sliding paper door, so Koharu might catch on if he wasn’t careful… Though, come to think of it, Koharu might already know he was gay. Last year, she’d caught him using a gay magazine he’d found in the park. She hadn’t said anything, but she had definitely seen it.

Usually, he handled things in the bathroom, so being able to do this lying down was a new experience. As he considered who to picture, Ninomiya crossed his mind. In his imagination, he undressed Ninomiya, pinned him down face-first, and took him from behind. He’d resist at first, of course, but eventually, he’d give in, moving his hips with pleasure. It was a ridiculous fantasy—something that could never happen. He hated that annoying monkey, especially after he’d kicked his cardboard shelter. But somehow, knowing Ninomiya would hate being made a target of desire made the thought strangely exciting.

After releasing his desire, a strange chill lingered between his legs. Tokame slipped out of the cardboard box and washed his hands at a nearby water fountain. The cold water was so frigid it felt like his fingers might snap off.

His mind, hazy a moment before, sharpened. Koharu had accused him of stealing her money. Was she misunderstanding something? Had she lost her mind? Or maybe she was just making up excuses to kick him out… though that last one seemed unlikely. If she were that calculating, she would have abandoned him, Shunsuke, and their father to their debts long ago. He couldn’t understand her. It frustrated him to the point of exhaustion, and eventually, he drifted off.

…His face felt cold. Tokame woke up and realized someone was touching his cheek. “Wha—ah!” He shouted, startled, and the hand pulled back quickly. His heart pounded wildly as he looked up to see two eyes peering in through the cardboard entrance.

“Y-you’re alive?” It was Ninomiya’s voice. Tokame crawled out of his cardboard shelter.

“You little—don’t mess with me!” He grabbed Ninomiya by the collar, and in the dim light of the streetlamp, Ninomiya stammered, his cheeks tense.

“I just… well, you know, the snow was piling up, and I thought… if you were frozen here by morning, I’d feel kinda sick about it.”

Ninomiya’s voice trembled as he tried to laugh. “If that happened, then… that’d make me a pretty horrible person, right? The thought just kinda bothered me…”

So he’d come all the way to the park. Tokame let go of his collar, and Ninomiya let out a small sigh, stuffing his hands into his warm-looking down jacket pockets. He scuffed at the grass with his foot.

“You could have just kept quiet, you know.”

Ninomiya blinked.

“If you’d just stayed quiet about seeing me here, then no one would think badly of you even if I froze to death.”

Ninomiya’s pale lips twisted into an odd expression, somewhere between a smile and the verge of tears.

“...But keeping it to myself just doesn’t sit right. I’d still feel responsible, you know?”

A snow-laden wind blew past, making both of them shiver. As Tokame moved to retreat into his cardboard shelter, something tugged at his back. He turned to find Ninomiya gripping the edge of his coat.

“H-hey, d-do you… want to come over?” Ninomiya’s voice and hands both shook.

“I’m the only one there,” Ninomiya continued, “Dad’s away for work, and Mom’s on the night shift.”

Ninomiya’s apartment was an old, four-story concrete building, but it seemed far sturdier than the rundown place Tokame and his family called home.

“Mom’s a nurse, so she works a lot of night shifts. Dad’s just a regular office worker, though.” He opened the metal door and gestured for Tokame to come inside. The entryway was spotless, and the shoes lined up neatly.

The narrow hallway creaked under their steps.

“My grandma lived with us until I was in middle school,” Ninomiya said as they walked to his room at the end of the hall. His room was about six tatami mats wide, with a futon, a desk, and a bookshelf filled only with manga. A soccer player’s poster adorned the wall.

“Go ahead and sit,” he said when he noticed Tokame standing in the middle of the room.

“Oh, do you want something to drink?”

“I’m fine.”

Tokame dropped onto the floor and lay down, pulling his coat over himself. The air conditioner droned quietly near the ceiling. The room even had a TV and a VCR. Tokame wasn’t sure if all high schoolers had setups like this or if this was a bit much.

When Ninomiya invited him over, Tokame had come along simply because he was cold. If it meant a warm place to sleep, he didn’t care if it was at the home of an annoying classmate he’d just used in his fantasies. He didn’t feel ashamed about taking pity or charity. He’d received plenty of it before, and it was the reason he’d survived. Trying to analyze or make sense of the motives of those with the means to help was a waste of time.

It was late, and he was tired, but Ninomiya was pacing around the room, making the tatami creak.

“Aren’t you uncomfortable like that?” Ninomiya asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Aren’t you cold? And what’s that smell… is it gasoline?”

Tokame sat up and sniffed his school shirt. He couldn’t smell a thing.

“Why don’t you take a bath? Seriously, you stink.”

Reluctant to be told he smelled, Tokame accepted Ninomiya’s offer and used the bath. The water was lukewarm, but it felt soothing as it seeped into his chilled body. Ninomiya even lent him some clothes, which he put on without hesitation. The pajamas—likely Ninomiya’s—were a bit short at the ankles due to their height difference.

When he returned to the room, a futon had been spread out on the floor beside the bed. Ninomiya had changed into sweats and was lying on his stomach on the bed, reading a manga.

“Go ahead and sleep there. I have no clue if it’s for guests or not, but it’s the one my mom uses, so it should be fine. Might smell a bit like an old lady, though.”

Without a word, Tokame slipped under the covers. The futon, which Ninomiya’s mom used, had a faint, sweet scent, like makeup or perfume.

Tokame’s own mother had died on the street when he was eight. She’d been lying down the day before, saying, “My head hurts…” By the next morning, she’d quietly passed away. His father had clung to her, sobbing. In the winter, people died. Elderly men and women who seemed fine one day would be cold by the next morning. In the life of homelessness, death was ever-present, not something to be feared. Somehow, he’d believed that his mother’s time had simply come, as if death followed a natural order and her turn had arrived.

In the end, they never learned why she died. Maybe his father knew, but Tokame had never been told. She’d been cremated, her white bones collected in a large tin can. That night, he, his father, and the rest of the family went down to the harbor with the can. When they reached the base of the lighthouse, his father poured her ashes into the sea.

“There’s this scene in your mother’s favorite movie, where they scatter the bones of someone they love into the ocean. I’m sure she’d be happy.”

…His mother’s bones floated in the dark water like debris. Back then, he hadn’t questioned it; he’d thought it was just how things were done. Now, he understood that his father had simply made an excuse because they couldn’t afford a grave.

“I’m turning off the lights.”

When Tokame nodded, the room went dark. As he shifted onto his side, a voice spoke to him from the darkness.

“Why were you sleeping in the park?”

He kept his eyes closed, ignoring the question.

“Did you have a fight with your parents?”

He let out a slow sigh.

“It’s just… I’m curious. Say something. C’mon…”

The futon was thick, fluffy, and far warmer than the thin bedding he had at home. Burying his face in the sheets that smelled faintly of someone else’s mother, Tokame closed his eyes and drifted off.

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T.N: I want to thank D for the Ko-fi donation ☕ which I used to purchase the raw for this novel 😍