Chapter 1 River's End - part 4

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In a matching tracksuit and sneakers, Bald Tora arrived at the hospital. The examination was over, and the dimmed lights of the empty waiting room gave it a lifeless air. Tokame slowly lifted his head as Bald Tora, his old teacher, came to a stop in front of him, breathing heavily. It had only been twenty minutes since the call.

Bald Tora stood there, mouth hanging slightly open, unable to find the right words. “I don’t… I don’t even know what to say.”

“Thanks for coming. I know you’re not my homeroom teacher anymore, but I just didn’t know who else to call. I haven’t even really talked to my new homeroom teacher yet.”

“That’s all right. Don’t worry about that.”

“Can you tell me how much it costs to, you know… cremate someone?” Tokame’s gaze dropped to his hands.

Bald Tora’s brows furrowed with concern. “Well…”

“They said I could take them home, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. If I don’t have a funeral or anything, I guess it’s better just to take them straight from here to the crematorium, right?”

Bald Tora lowered himself onto the chair beside him. “Tokame… is there any family at all you could call?”

“Dad never talked about any relatives. I thought maybe there’d be something somewhere, so I went home and looked for anything—letters, postcards—but there was nothing. All my dad’s friends were homeless, so who knows where they even are now.” Tokame paused, glancing up. “Koharu worked at the same factory for six years. The foreman there’s been good to us; he’s even let us stay in the company house. I called him, hoping he could help somehow, but he told me Koharu had already quit. It didn’t make any sense. I thought maybe she’d hidden some money somewhere at home, but I couldn’t find even a hundred yen. And when they crashed, the whole car went up, so whatever cash she had must’ve burned up along with her wallet.”

Bald Tora hesitated, digesting this. “And… Koharu? She was your…?”

“My sister.” Tokame’s words fell hard, blunt.

Bald Tora just nodded, and Tokame continued. “I need a loan for the cremation. I tried asking at my part-time jobs, but none of them let minors take an advance. Consumer loans are out too. Nobody’s willing to lend to me. I’ll work, I’ll pay it all back—but if I have to wait until I’ve saved enough, they’ll start… rotting.”

“Hey—” Bald Tora gripped Tokame’s shoulder, his voice wavering. “Aren’t you sad? Three of your family… they’re gone.”

Tokame looked up, startled by the question. “Of course I’m sad. What are you talking about?”

Now it was Bald Tora’s turn to look taken aback.

“Of course I’m sad. Even a father like that—yeah, he was a mess, buried us in debt, but I’m still sad he’s gone. And now Koharu’s gone too. And Shunsuke. Of course I’m lonely. But I can sit here crying all I want, and they’re not going to just get up and come home. They’ll just start to decompose if I don’t do something. And I’m all that’s left, so if I don’t figure it out, nothing’s going to happen. That’s why I’m thinking about all this now.”

Hearing him speak with such fervor, Bald Tora fell silent.

“Look, accidents happen every day, right? People die every single day. This time, it just happened to be my family. The driver of the truck that killed them—he’ll probably end up in prison or whatever. That’s just how it goes. And yeah, I’m lonely now that they’re gone… but that’s all there is to it.”

Though it wasn’t even cold, his fingers trembled. “Maybe it was just their time. Everyone’s gotta die sometime.”

Bald Tora was silent, and the waiting room fell into a heavy, absolute quiet.

“I keep going over it all in my head. But without any money… I don’t even know where to start. I don’t know what to do.” Tokame pressed his hands to his mouth, holding himself together. “I’m sorry for bothering you with all this. You’re just… you’re the only adult I thought I could call.”

A hand rested on his shoulder. “No, Tokame,” Bald Tora said gently. “I’m glad you thought to call me.”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

All the arrangements were handled by Bald Tora. The bodies were kept overnight in a mortuary adjoining the crematorium, and they were cremated the following day, a Sunday, in the morning. Perhaps it was a day of low demand, as the crematorium had availability. By afternoon, he brought the three, now reduced to ashes, back home. Bald Tora not only gave him a ride back but also covered all the costs of the cremation, including the urns for the family.

He set a small table by the window in the living room and placed the three urns in their boxes side by side. It somehow felt right to place them on an elevated spot. The bones, nestled in pristine white boxes, seemed out of place in this shabby house, giving off a quiet dignity.

Looking around, he realized that, though the house had only two rooms and a kitchen, it felt unnaturally spacious. His stomach rumbled, and Tokame went to the kitchen. Inside the refrigerator, there was a square box. When he took it out and opened it, it revealed a large cake. He now remembered Koharu’s words: "I'll get a cake."

After staring at the cake for a while, Tokame prepared four plates. He cut the cake into four portions and brought it back to the living room. He placed a slice of cake in front of each urn, along with a fork. Sitting before them, he began to eat his own piece. The only sound in the room was his chewing; no one else said anything.

"Excuse me," came a voice from the entrance. He went to check and found a man in his late forties, wearing glasses and a navy suit, giving off the stiff demeanor of someone who worked at a bank.

"Is Koharu Tokame here?"

Bald Tora had mentioned that the accident news had been on TV yesterday. Perhaps this man had come to pay his respects after seeing it. "Please, come in," he said, letting the man into the house. Upon entering the living room and seeing the three urns lined up, the man drew a sharp breath.

"Uh… which one is Koharu-san?"

"The middle one."

The man looked around, somewhat perplexed, then knelt before the table, folding his hands together. Hesitantly, he asked, "When did Koharu-san pass away?"

"Yesterday."

Noticing that he was talking while standing, Tokame knelt down as well, pushing the half-eaten cake plate to the side.

"And what’s your relation to Koharu-san?"'

"Koharu was my sister."

The man murmured an “I see,” took out a handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped his brow.

"Who else, besides your sister, passed away?"

"My father and my younger brother."

"So, um… your mother…?"

"She passed away when I was eight."

It became clear that this man didn’t know anything. That was strange.

"Aren’t you from Koharu’s workplace?"

Ignoring the question, the man mumbled, "This is… unfortunate…"

"I handle administrative procedures at the factory where your sister worked. We were in different departments, so I’d never spoken to her directly. I’ve been on a business trip and only returned yesterday, so I didn’t realize things had turned out like this. Actually, the deadline for the paperwork regarding this house is coming up, and since your sister hadn’t responded to our inquiries, I took the liberty of coming here on my day off to discuss it…”

“What paperwork for the house?”

The man pulled out his handkerchief again.

“Your sister was let go from the factory last month. The land itself belongs to the factory manager, so it only made sense that she’d have to leave after losing her job. She’d asked to stay just one more month, so we gave her that grace period, but that was up last week. However, given the circumstances, and since you’re still a student—what is it? College? No, high school? Anyway, it’d be hard for you to leave on such short notice, so I’ll consult with the manager and see what can be done.”

The man took a deep breath, muttered, “This is such a distasteful job…” and stood up.

“Well then, I’ll take my leave.”

“Hey,” Tokame called out, and the man tilted his head.

“Why was Koharu let go from the factory?”

The man’s expression turned vague.

“Well…”

“Was it a layoff?”

“No, it wasn’t. Didn’t she tell you anything?”

“I didn’t know until yesterday that she’d been let go.”

The man pressed his hand against his mouth thoughtfully, then murmured, almost to himself, “Well, it’s bound to come to light eventually…”

"Your sister embezzled money from the factory. Little by little, from last year through this one. The amount was small, but the factory manager, who had even been renting her this place at a reduced rate, was furious that she betrayed his kindness. He didn’t press charges with the police, but he made her quit."

The events of that snowy day replayed in his mind as if they’d happened just yesterday: Koharu blaming him for stealing money, Shunsuke’s 30,000 yen theft for a video game, and their father’s mounting hospital bills. With the constant expenses, Koharu had fallen behind on repaying their debts and resorted to stealing from the company funds.

Tokame clenched his teeth. He wished he had never gone to high school. He was just sleeping through classes anyway. If he had just started working instead, they might have had enough money, and then Koharu wouldn’t have had to steal. He couldn’t blame her for what she’d done—if Koharu was guilty, then he was equally to blame.

At some point, the man who’d been talking to him vanished. Though the neighborhood whispered about this old house, calling it a haunted shack, it still had a roof over their heads and tatami mats underfoot. Realizing he’d have to leave it soon, Tokame finally understood that what Koharu had fought so hard to protect all this time included him, too.

Suddenly, the sliding door rattled open. For a moment, it felt like everyone had come back. Footsteps creaked through the hallway, bringing with them a looming shadow.

With a sharp clap, the room light flicked on. The debt collector, Kawase, seemed surprised to see anyone there. “Oh,” he muttered, a bit startled.

Dressed in his usual black suit and red tie, he looked down at Tokame. Glancing at the urn on the windowsill, he remarked, “Yorozu, this place reeks of poverty.”

“Aren’t you gonna have a funeral?” he asked.

“No money for it,” Tokame replied.

“Yeah, figures.” Kawase nodded, then squatted down beside him. Taking a cigarette from his chest pocket, he lit it with a silver lighter and flicked the ashes into a plate with leftover cake frosting.

“It’s gonna be rough for you. Now you’re the one who’ll have to take over your old man’s debt.” He gave Tokame’s shoulder a pat that made his skin crawl.

“Right now, it’s up to four million yen. Your sister was doing her best to pay it back, too.” It hadn’t even been a few months since Koharu had last told him about the debt, and yet the amount had somehow gone up again. It felt like he was sinking into a bottomless pit.

“Thinking about dropping out of high school to work?”

“Probably.”

“Not much you can do with only a middle school education, though. The pay will be pretty low.”

Kawase leaned closer for some reason. “How about joining the Matsumura Group?”

Tokame’s head was down, but his eyes widened.

“Officially, we’re a construction company, but it’s not hard to guess we’re really yakuza. If you’re up for it, I’ll look out for you. I could even freeze the debt at its current amount, no more interest.”

At first, he’d thought it was a joke. But his resolve wavered.

“There’s just one thing—you’d need to become my adopted son. Gotta keep it in the family.”

“Adopted... son?”

“It’d be in name only. Of course, I’ll pay you a salary, too. It’s not a bad deal, right?”

Kawase’s hand rested on Tokame’s shoulder. “Your sister worked hard. You’re her little brother, so I’ll take special care of you.”

Joining the group might mean he’d have a place to live, a job to do. Whether he found a way himself or had someone find it for him, the outcome wouldn’t be so different. He didn’t think there was anything good about being yakuza, but right now, he didn’t want to think about much at all. He just wanted an easy way out.

“Well? Will you let me take care of you?”

“Probably,” Tokame murmured.

Kawase narrowed his eyes and grinned. “What’s with the ‘probably’? You’re a strange one, kid.”

With a smirk, Kawase stood up and said, “I’ll be back.” As Tokame watched him go, he realized that, though his family was gone, he might be gaining a new one. A fake family... He noticed the ash left on the cake plate, along with the cigarette and lighter Kawase had left behind. Since Kawase had promised to come back, Tokame thought he’d leave it for him. But instead, he grabbed them and stepped outside. Kawase couldn’t have gotten far—he might still catch up.

The street was pitch black by now. Under the streetlamp behind the house, he spotted Kawase’s black car parked by the curb. He saw Kawase’s unmistakable shaved head and almost started running toward him when he noticed someone else step out of the car—a young man in black tracksuits with bleached blond hair. The man handed Kawase a cigarette and expertly lit it for him. Both had their backs turned, oblivious to his presence nearby.

"...Damn it, a no-smoking rule in the car? Can’t deal with that," Kawase spat out.

"Boss’s kid doesn’t like cigarettes, you know. And the leader does whatever the kid says. Guess the no-smoking trend is catching on, huh? Maybe you should try quitting too, Kawase-san."

Kawase kicked the man’s thigh.

"Ow, ow! That hurts... So, how about that kid in the house?"

"He was inside. I thought he might try to make a run for it, but he didn’t seem that clever. Big as he is, he’s still just a kid. I told him I’d freeze the debt if he’d join as my adopted son, and he actually bought it. Piece of cake."

They were talking about him. Tokame gulped.

"His sister, though, that was a damn waste. When her payments fell behind, I threatened to kill her little brother, and she signed up for insurance, just like that. Everything was lining up, but the idiot went and died on me before the paperwork even cleared. Ugly as she was, nobody’d want her, even in a brothel. Without the insurance money, there’s no other way to cash in on her."

Tokame backed away slowly, pressing his back to the wall so they couldn’t see him.

"The brother, though... once I’ve adopted him. We’ll put insurance on him, wait a year, then hand it over to someone who’s good with accidents and suicides."

Kawase and the man continued talking for a while. Only after the sound of the car faded did Tokame run back to the house. He flew through the door, locked it, and felt his heartbeat pounding in his ears, his whole body drenched in sweat.

He ran up to his room and opened the closet. It was almost empty, strange for a place where four people once lived. In the bottom right corner, he pulled out a large sports bag he’d used when they were living on the streets. He tossed out the family’s winter clothes that were still inside and tried to fit the urns in, but the bag couldn’t hold all three, and they were too heavy to lift together.

Tokame removed each urn from its box, placing only the bones into the sports bag—first his father, then Koharu, then Shunsuke. All three sets of remains mixed together, impossible to tell apart now.

He zipped up the bag, threw it over his shoulder, and stuffed his hand into his pants pocket. The crumpled 5,000 yen bill was a loan from Bald Tora, who’d said, "Use this to buy yourself something to eat."

Tokame left the house without locking the door.

He walked, having no bike since it had been stolen a few days earlier. It might have been random, or maybe the older kids who’d beaten up Ninomiya had taken it. When he told Koharu about the theft, she scolded him not for the thief’s actions, but for not securing it better. That bike had been a hand-me-down from someone at Koharu’s factory.

With each step, the bones in the bag rattled softly. Koharu had wanted to die. She’d taken their father out of the hospital and said she wanted to eat cake—not for him, but for herself.

Debt—just a pile of paper. Once you pay it off, it’s done. She didn’t have to die for it. …No, that’s wrong. His head swirled. Koharu hadn’t died for the insurance payout. She’d died in a car accident, together with their father and Shunsuke.

Now the baton of debt Koharu had given everything to end was handed to him. And Kawase would make him pay with his life. He wasn’t joking. He wasn’t going to die for that. If there were any order to dying, it would never end with Kawase killing him.

With his family on his shoulder, Tokame walked away. Though he’d left the house behind, he had nowhere to go. He only knew he had to leave this town and bury his family somewhere. …Back then, in the bitter winter mornings, so many of the elderly he’d lived alongside on the streets had passed away. He wondered who had cremated their bodies, where they’d been buried.

His shoulders grew heavier as he walked, shifting the bag from one shoulder to the other. A hollow feeling clung to him, but strangely, he didn’t feel lonely.

Eventually, he reached the bridge. On a cold winter day, he had once talked here with Koharu. She’d cried, saying she’d wanted to go to high school and become a hairdresser. He stopped walking and leaned over the railing, staring at the river below. The dark water flowed sluggishly, disappearing into the night.

Tokame placed the sports bag on the railing and unzipped it. With the opening wide, he turned it upside down. The powdered remains scattered swiftly, carried away by the breeze, while the larger bone fragments dropped one by one into the dark water below. In the moment when the powder vanished, he thought it looked like the final scene of a movie.

At the river’s end lay the sea. Every river eventually reaches the ocean. Someday, somewhere, the three of them would surely reunite with their mother.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Ninomiya came to the door in a sweatshirt.

"Can you go out for a bit?"

"Hang on," he said, looking back before disappearing into the back room. He returned with a jacket on.

"Are you going somewhere?" He glanced at the sagging sports bag.

"No reason."

"What do you mean, 'no reason'? What’s with that bag?"

Tokame walked quickly, and he noticed Ninomiya’s breathing get heavier as he tried to keep pace.

"Hey, you’re walking too fast. Where are we even going?"

They kept walking until they reached the park where, one winter, Ninomiya had kicked over his cardboard shelter. Ninomiya grabbed his arm. "Let’s take a break," he said, looking down and catching his breath.

"This morning, I went by your place."

Tokame could feel the grip of Ninomiya’s fingers, warm and alive, but only for a moment before they let go.

"I saw the news on TV yesterday… I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to call, but you don’t have a phone. Is it really true? Koharu and Shunsuke… they’re gone?"

Tokame nodded, and Ninomiya frowned, murmuring, "I can’t believe it."

"I mean, you said we’d all be having cake together. I keep remembering how Koharu cut my hair once… and stuff like that…" Ninomiya sniffled, looking down.

"Koharu was only twenty-one. Shunsuke was just a kid in grade school. How does something like that happen? And your dad… I don’t even know him, but… it’s just awful."

Tears fell at Ninomiya’s feet, and for the first time, Tokame saw someone else crying for his family. Watching Ninomiya’s tears, he felt a long-buried warmth rise in his chest.

"People dying… I’ve gotten used to it."

Ninomiya looked up, confused.

"Back when I was living at the park, lots of people I knew passed away."

Ninomiya’s expression twisted with pain.

"What the hell are you talking about? This is your family. Don’t talk like it’s nothing."

"People die. If they can’t keep going, they die wherever they are."

"What’s wrong with you… aren’t you sad?"

Tokame took Ninomiya’s arm.

"…Will you come with me?"

"Huh?"

"I’m leaving now."

"Leaving… but where?"

He didn’t know. But he was going somewhere. He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t go back to that house. He had left that place with his family—and come to find Ninomiya.

Seeing the confusion on Ninomiya’s face, Tokame realized just how strange he’d become. Of course Ninomiya wouldn’t follow him. Ninomiya still had things he hadn’t lost. He wasn’t like Tokame, who’d given up school, had no family, and was heading to some unknown place, not even knowing where he was going himself.

All he had here was a shadowy feeling of affection for Ninomiya and Ninomiya’s pity toward him.

Still gripping Ninomiya’s arm, Tokame led him to the bushes, tripping him so that he fell to the ground, Tokame covering him from above.

“Tokame?” Ninomiya’s voice wavered as he said his name. Tokame caught a faint scent of soap on his neck, maybe from a recent bath.

“Are you okay?” Ninomiya asked softly, his hand reaching up to comfortingly pat Tokame’s back. But his fingers tensed as Tokame’s lips touched his neck. When Tokame’s hand slid under his sweatshirt, Ninomiya twisted away, struggling.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” Ninomiya shouted, writhing beneath him. Tokame pressed him down, kissing him despite Ninomiya’s attempts to resist, chasing after him whenever he turned away.

“No—stop it, Tokame!”

Gradually, Tokame was losing his grip on Ninomiya, so he pinned Ninomiya down on his stomach, his body weight crushing the smaller boy, now unable to resist. Tokame's hands ripped off Ninomiya's pants, and he forced his hips between Ninomiya's legs. He thrust against Ninomiya, his hardness straining to enter, but it wouldn't budge.

"No, I don't want to, I don't want to, I don't want to. It hurts, it hurts..."

Ninomiya's cries were desperate, but Tokame didn't stop. He rubbed himself against Ninomiya's crotch, his excitement clouding his mind. He came quickly, and as the pleasure faded, his heated brain slowly cleared. It was then that he heard Ninomiya's anguished sobs, the sound piercing his eardrums like a knife.

Eventually, Tokame pulled away, watching Ninomiya as he sat up, covering his face and sobbing in a voice Tokame had never heard before. His own heart felt icy, and he began to tremble as he looked at Ninomiya’s tear-streaked face, feeling like he might cry, too. Ninomiya’s crotch was stained with Tokame’s release. Tokame reached out to wipe it away, but Ninomiya slapped his hand away, shouting, “Don’t touch me!” He froze, realizing he could never touch Ninomiya again.

Tokame stood up, grabbed his bag, and started to run. He would run somewhere, anywhere. Somewhere no one could find him.

He reached the station, where a late-night bus was just about to depart. With his 5,000 yen, he managed to buy a one-way ticket to Tokyo.

He climbed on board at the last minute and sank into his seat. Hidden by his shirt, he noticed his zipper was still open. Clutching his empty bag and the remaining 390 yen in change, Tokame curled up on the seat, unable to stop shaking. When the bus took a sharp turn, he instinctively looked up. They were crossing the bridge. In an instant, it passed by, disappearing from view.

Everything he had with form, everything without form, he had lost it all. And, in the end, he had shattered it all with his own hands.

This feeling wasn’t quite loneliness, yet the tears wouldn’t stop. Even though they wouldn’t stop, he didn’t fully understand why he was crying.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

At his usual spot in a cozy bar, Tokame nursed a beer, slowly sipping it in the corner. After wrapping up a shoot, the lighting tech, the assistant director, hair and makeup artist, and one of the new actors had suggested going for drinks, bringing them to this place. It was a rare find—cheap and tasty—though the decor had always been a bit tacky. Now, in April, they had adorned every nook and cranny with artificial cherry blossoms, trying to evoke the season but instead just intensifying the bar’s cheap look and surreal vibe.

"Tokame-san, you’ve got to down that beer in one go!" called out Suzuki, the rookie actor, noticing Tokame’s slow, stingy sipping style.

"I like to warm it up in my hands as I drink," Tokame replied.

The makeup artist, Hayasaka Yuri, wrinkled her brow from across the table. "Sounds a bit pervy, if you ask me."

"Well, AV directors are basically perverts by default," the assistant director, Yoshida, remarked flatly, as if looking for Tokame to confirm.

"Yeah, pretty much," Tokame said, brushing it off lightly as he sipped his beer.

The crew changed with each shoot, but aside from the lighting tech and the new actor, Tokame was familiar with the others, having worked with them several times before.

"So is it true, Tokame-san—you were actually homeless?" Lighting tech Osato asked bluntly.

"Yeah." Tokame didn’t mind; it was no secret.

"Did you live in parks or train stations?"

"More or less. I’ll tell you, cardboard really is warm. You should try it sometime."

Osato gave an odd chuckle. "Haha…yeah, no thanks."

"It’s hard to believe. You look like you could be an actor yourself, with a face like that!" Osato said, impressed.

"What's needed to be a male actor is the ability to get an erection and the ability to last, face doesn't matter. Besides, I don't get erect for women."

Tokame was open about being gay, but it seemed Osato didn’t know. He froze, clearly taken aback. "Oh…"

"Relax. You’re not my type," Tokame said preemptively, and the group erupted in laughter. Osato chuckled awkwardly. "Glad to hear it."

"Then why direct regular AV with men and women?" Osato asked.

Tokame took out a cigarette, lighting it with a practiced hand. "Just because women don’t turn me on doesn’t mean I don’t like the female form."

"Isn’t that a little weird?" Osato pressed.

"What’s weird about it? You also grew up sucking your mother's milk, didn't you?"

"Well, I guess that’s true…" Osato trailed off as the conversation meandered into slightly risqué topics. Tokame listened to their chatter from a distance, enjoying their enthusiasm.

"Hey, Tokame-san, I heard from the boss that the next shoot’s at a regular love hotel?" Yoshida asked.

Tokame nodded. "Yeah, it’s cheaper than a studio. I want to shoot in one of those retro, over-the-top hotels—the kind with horse-drawn carriages in the room or a merry-go-round. Something garishly nostalgic."

"Nice," Yoshida grinned, narrowing his eyes. "These days, all the love hotels are so sleek and modern. But those old-school ones from the ‘70s and ‘80s—they’ve got this vibe, like a whirlwind of desire. I love that."

Tokame agreed, nodding as he stood up. His cell phone was buzzing, and the noisy bar made it impossible to hear, so he stepped outside. The wind was soft but held a slight chill.

The call was from his company, Kaleido Fish. It was an annoying message from the president: the actress scheduled for tomorrow’s shoot had canceled. She was new, so maybe she’d gotten cold feet. He ended the call, asking them to request a similar replacement from her agency.

Tokame took a seat by the bushes outside and smoked a cigarette. The fresh air was unexpectedly pleasant. Five years ago, after drifting through a series of jobs, he’d landed in Tokyo as an AV director. This year he’d be thirty. He still hoped to break into mainstream film someday, but the path wasn’t easy.

Three men in business suits exited the bar, probably salarymen. One of them glanced his way, seeming put off by Tokame sitting on the curb, but quickly looked away when their eyes met.

“Ninomiya, should we head back to the hotel?”

It was such a common name, yet hearing it still made Tokame’s body tense instinctively.

“We should get going, or we’ll be in trouble.”

The voice sounded familiar. Tokame stared intently at the backs of the three businessmen. They didn’t turn his way, but the man in the navy-blue suit, shorter than the others, seemed uncannily like Ninomiya. Noticing Tokame’s intense gaze, the salaryman he had made eye contact with nudged the shoulder of the man in the blue suit, gesturing back in Tokame’s direction.

“Hm? What’s up?”

The man in the blue suit turned, meeting Tokame’s gaze, and in that instant, fourteen years vanished, bringing Tokame back to his high school days.

“Wait… are you Tokame?”

The now-grown face of Ninomiya approached him, looking down at him. Tokame’s face stiffened, his knees trembling.

“Huh? So you really know this guy?” one of Ninomiya’s friends asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

“Ah, yeah. Don’t worry about me, you guys go on ahead,” Ninomiya replied.

Tokame looked down, unable to either run away or meet his gaze head-on.

“It’s been ages. So, what are you doing here?” Ninomiya’s tone was casual, unchanged from fourteen years ago.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Seeing a coffee shop chain across the street from the bar, they decided to go there.

“I’ve got work here early tomorrow, so I can’t drink much. Probably pretty boring for you, huh?” Ninomiya remarked.

Tokame ordered a black coffee, while Ninomiya chose a caramel macchiato, one of those sweet drinks typically associated with women.

“Ever since I graduated, I’ve been working in a factory for an electronics company. Been there a while, so I’m moving up into management and got sent on this inspection trip to Tokyo. I was kind of hoping I might run into you here, but I never thought it would actually happen. Crazy!”

Though his face had matured, the familiar features were still there. Ninomiya hadn’t grown much taller since then, and he still had that squinting, almost threadlike smile.

“So, what are you up to these days?” he asked.

Tokame hesitated for a second but answered honestly, “I’m an AV director.” Ninomiya spat out his caramel macchiato, spraying Tokame in the process, who grimaced and muttered, “Gross.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Ninomiya grabbed a napkin, hastily handing it to him.

“I never could picture you doing any particular job, but AV director—that’s something else! Mind if I brag about it to my friends?” He was still as guileless and carefree as ever. Though adult entertainment came with its fair share of prejudice, Ninomiya didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

“Come to think of it, you used to watch all those art films, right? What was it called again? The one about childhood friends living by a river or something. I just remember falling asleep halfway through.”

“River’s End.”

“Oh, right, that one! We searched high and low at the rental store for it, didn’t we? Back when everything was still on video! Finally found it, and it was so boring I was disappointed. But you seemed pretty into it. I guess that’s what got you interested in filmmaking, huh? That’s why you went into AV, right?”

Ninomiya rambled on without needing Tokame’s responses, telling him all about what he’d been up to since they last saw each other.

By the time they left, it was past midnight. Ninomiya, who had been talking non-stop, finished off two of those sugary drinks. He pointed toward his business hotel, which was within walking distance, and Tokame could see the sign peeking out in that direction.

“Oh yeah, give me your phone number,” Ninomiya said.

Tokame didn’t respond.

“Hey, come on—don’t just go silent on me.” Ninomiya looked him over intently. Tokame covered his mouth with his right hand.

“…You’re not angry?”

Ninomiya grinned. “What, because you pinned me down in the park and almost raped me?”

Tokame felt an urge to run, overwhelmed by Ninomiya’s bluntness.

“Yeah, that was terrifying. You were like an animal. But… thinking about it later, I kind of wondered if maybe I should’ve let you, just once,” he said, sounding almost too casual. Tokame felt as if a heavy weight had suddenly been lifted from his shoulders.

“You were really going through hell back then,” Ninomiya continued. “So poor, losing your family, and yet you never cried, never said you were sad. You just kept talking like a monk about how everyone dies someday. I wondered if you were really okay. When you showed up at my place, I knew you were trying to reach out, but I didn’t do anything for you. And later I kept thinking, I should’ve just gone with you—maybe not for long, but at least for a little while, you know? Then you stopped coming to school, disappeared without a word, and no one had any idea where you’d gone… I actually thought you might be dead. But at the same time, I figured you’d somehow managed to survive, knowing how tough you can be…”

Ninomiya spoke quietly, looking down as he reminisced.

“A couple of years ago, there was a class reunion,” Ninomiya began. “That’s when Bald Tora—remember him? He’s totally bald now… Anyway, that’s not important. He said you’d finally paid him back the money he lent you. Hearing that gave me some peace of mind. I figured, if you’re doing well enough to borrow money and pay it back, then you must be okay. I mean, I still remember back in high school when I saw you picking up leftovers and eating them. That was a huge shock for me. But you did it so openly, without any shame. You were never self-pitying, you know? Like… a noble poor guy or something. Sounds weird, huh?”

After a pause, Ninomiya shrugged and continued, “I always liked you, man. Not like that, don’t get any ideas! You could be blunt as hell, had this huge attitude, and if things got annoying, you’d just ignore people. But you were kind too, you know? It was fun being around you. I worried about you.”

“Come on, get your phone out,” he urged, and Tokame pulled out his cell. Ninomiya took it and added his own contact info.

“Listen, call me when you have some free time or if you’re ever back in town. Let’s hang out again sometime. And hey, I want to hear about you for once, because you never tell me anything. Oh, and I got married! No kids yet, though.”

There was a ring on his left hand, on his ring finger. Tokame had noticed it from the start.

“You’d better get in touch. But since you probably won’t, I’ll email you. Don’t ignore me, all right? Promise me you’ll reply.”

With that, Ninomiya turned and started to walk away. Tokame watched his retreating figure, feeling a warm, overwhelming emotion rise up, just like the old days. His mouth opened on its own.

“Hey!” he called out.

Ninomiya stopped and looked back.

“Be happy!” Tokame’s voice wavered, almost breaking.

Ninomiya covered his mouth with both hands, grinning as he called back, “I am happy, you know! And I’m sending that right back at you, too!”

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