MUNDANE HURT: Chapter 14

The following chapters compile all the stories from the doujinshi sequel to the commercial novel MUNDANE HURT, originally released in 2016. The doujinshi sequel was published in October 2024.

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He pressed the intercom button. The chime echoed inside the apartment, but no response came, even after waiting for a while.

“Hm?”

Kitao frowned. From the street earlier, he had noticed the light on in the apartment window. Had he been mistaken? But this was the room at the far right; he was certain he hadn’t gotten it wrong. Tilting his head in thought, he pressed the button again.

“…Who is it?”

Finally, a reply. So he’s here after all. “It’s me,” Kitao called out.

The door clicked open, revealing Masayuki Nagano, dressed in a deep navy suit and a coat.

“Just got back from work?”

It wasn’t exactly a difficult question, but Nagano hesitated before answering, “Yeah,” with his gaze lowered.

“I had business nearby, so I thought I’d stop by. Have you eaten?”

“No, not yet.”

“Then let’s go out to eat.”

Despite the conversation, Nagano seemed restless, glancing over Kitao’s shoulder as though searching for something far away or flinching suddenly as if startled. His behavior was odd. Normally, Nagano would greet him with something like, “Thanks for going out of your way,” but now, he said nothing of the sort. Not that Kitao had come expecting gratitude.

A couple of hours earlier, Kitao had taken a detour during his outside work rounds to visit the police station. He was there to check on Tatsuya Nishizaki, an old classmate from high school, whom Nagano had been letting stay in his apartment.

Kitao, Nagano, and Nishizaki had all been in the same class during their second year of high school. Kitao hung out with a quiet group of train enthusiasts and photography experts. Nagano was always by himself, while Nishizaki was the life of the party, constantly surrounded by the more outgoing students. Nishizaki had nothing in common with Kitao; his world revolved around clothes, shoes, parties, and girls. Within three days of being in the same class, Kitao had mentally categorized him as someone from a completely different world.

If we don’t get along, then fine. Just stay out of each other’s way and coexist. But it wasn’t that simple. Nishizaki and his crowd constantly harassed Sakamoto, one of Kitao’s train-loving friends. Sakamoto, standing just 160 cm (5’2’’) tall and weighing 100 kg (220 lbs), had a wrestler-like build that made him an easy target.

Kitao remembered one particular incident. Sakamoto had been reading a railway magazine in the classroom when Nishizaki approached him. “Is it true train enthusiasts record the sounds of trains?” Nishizaki asked with a friendly smile.

Sakamoto, excited by the interest, had started to explain. “Yeah, depending on the model, the sounds are—”

“What’s so fun about that? I don’t get it. It’s so dumb,” Nishizaki had interrupted, his face twisted into a smirk. Then, as Sakamoto sat in stunned silence, Nishizaki had returned to his group, laughing loudly and pointing. “That fatso is so gross.”

If you’re just going to mock someone, why even bother talking to them in the first place? Nishizaki was the kind of person who would deliberately step into a puddle only to loudly complain about how dirty and disgusting it was. There was a meanness in him that Kitao found appalling.

He might have been as handsome as a celebrity, but as a human being, he was the worst. Kitao had resolved to stay far away from him. But that resolve had faltered when Nishizaki started targeting Nagano.

Nagano, a top student receiving a scholarship at their private school, and Nishizaki, who sometimes flunked tests. A serious and earnest boy, and a shallow, mean-spirited one. They had nothing in common. Kitao had worried—though it wasn’t really his business—that Nishizaki would start out friendly, only to turn on Nagano and hurt him, just as he had done with Sakamoto.

At award ceremonies, Nagano always stood on the highest podium as though it were only natural. For Kitao, whose best achievement was placing in the rankings, Nagano felt like someone who existed in a dazzling, otherworldly realm.

Nagano, whom Kitao had often seen at track meets since elementary school, had been such a standout runner that people whispered he might one day aim for the Olympics. Though his start wasn’t the strongest, he would steadily accelerate in the latter half of a race, overtaking others with ease to claim the top spot. Even the track coach at Kitao’s school couldn’t help but admire him. “He’s from another school, but his form is mesmerizing,” he had said about Nagano’s running style.

Back in middle school, Nagano’s father had been involved in an attempted murder, a crime that had been covered by the local news. After that incident, Nagano’s name disappeared from track meet rosters. Kitao had always wondered what had happened to him. So when Kitao saw Nagano’s name among his new classmates in high school, he had exclaimed, “No way!” aloud.

Of course he’ll join the track team, Kitao had thought, thrilled at the prospect of running alongside someone he so admired, even though he knew he’d never be able to match him.

In their first year of high school, they were in different classes, but Kitao had gone out of his way to visit Nagano’s classroom. “We’ve met before at a track meet,” he had said, trying to draw attention to himself. When Nagano actually remembered him, Kitao had been thrilled to the point of wanting to leap for joy. After that, they would talk whenever they ran into each other. Kitao invited Nagano to join the track team several times, but Nagano always turned him down with a resolute, “I can’t afford to let my grades slip.”

Kitao had been persistent, unwilling to give up, until one day his cousin—who had attended the same middle school as Nagano—revealed something to him. “Nagano’s father hurt someone, and they ended up paralyzed from the waist down. I heard Nagano quit running because of that.” After hearing that, Kitao stopped pressing the matter.

But Nagano didn’t make friends, didn’t date, didn’t go out for fun. He spent all his time studying, helping his family with newspaper deliveries to make ends meet. Shouldering the burden of his father’s crime… Nagano’s world was far removed from the bright, carefree realm of most high school students.

For Kitao, who still saw him as the brilliant runner from the track, this life felt like a tragedy. Someone like him should be running, should be shining in that otherworldly place I could never reach. Yet it was clear why Nagano had chosen this path, and Kitao could do nothing but watch from afar.

And precisely because Nagano was so earnest, Kitao hadn’t wanted to see him get involved with someone like Nishizaki and end up mocked or hurt.

At first, Nagano had completely ignored Nishizaki’s attempts to cozy up to him. But eventually, and surprisingly, the two seemed to become close. They talked during breaks and disappeared together during lunch. Once, Kitao had been startled to see Nagano laughing in the classroom, his face carefree like the days when he stood atop the podium with a gold medal.

Kitao loathed Nishizaki, who had a history of mocking other people’s friends. But even he had thought, Maybe Nagano and Nishizaki just clicked in some way. If that’s the case, it’s fine. He convinced himself to accept it.

Not long after, though, Nishizaki began avoiding Nagano and drifted back to his usual crowd. Kitao figured the two just hadn’t meshed after all—until the incident happened.

Rumors about Nagano’s father being in prison spread like wildfire throughout the class, then the entire school, in just a day. The source was Yuzuki, one of Nishizaki’s close friends. It was clear the information had come from Nishizaki, but when confronted, Nishizaki denied it. Nagano, believing Nishizaki’s lie, accused Kitao instead and punched him.

Although Nagano had known Kitao since elementary school and had been approached by him countless times out of concern or for casual conversation, he still doubted him. Instead, he chose to trust the lies of someone as shallow and insincere as Nishizaki. Kitao had been completely infuriated. In the end, Nagano was simply the type of person who could be easily deceived by Nishizaki. Any admiration or sympathy Kitao once felt for him disappeared in an instant.

From then on, Kitao and Nagano grew distant. But three years ago, the retirement of the company’s elderly legal advisor led to Nagano—now a lawyer—taking over the position. That was how they unexpectedly crossed paths again.

The moment Nagano saw him, he apologized out of the blue. “I’m really sorry for punching you back in high school,” he had said, even before exchanging greetings.

Nagano explained that he had felt guilty for never apologizing after what happened in the classroom. It’s been years since we graduated, and he’s still hung up on that? What a serious guy. At that moment, the worst memories and lingering resentment Kitao had been carrying seemed to dissipate entirely.

After reconnecting, they occasionally had dinner together. But even when the conversation turned to high school, Nagano never once mentioned Nishizaki.

On the other hand, Nishizaki’s name came up frequently at reunions. Stories circulated—how his brilliant older brother had killed someone, how Nishizaki had dropped out of college to become a host, how someone had seen him at a club looking thin and gaunt, his appearance changed, and seemingly under the influence of drugs. The one spreading these sordid tales the most enthusiastically was Yuzuki, who had been especially close to Nishizaki in high school.

The scandalous downfall of Nishizaki, who wasn’t there to defend himself, made him easy fodder for gossip. His former friends took advantage of his absence to trample on his reputation and turn him into the subject of ridicule.

Back in high school, Yuzuki had joined Nishizaki in mocking Kitao’s friend Sakamoto, pointing and laughing at the rail enthusiast. Now, as if he had completely forgotten all of that, he approached Kitao with a cheerful grin. “Long time no see! How’ve you been?” he asked warmly.

"Hey, Nagano, your buddy from school, isn’t here today, huh? I heard he became a lawyer. I thought he’d be the type to crack under pressure, but I guess brains really do make a difference. If you have his contact info, could you share it with me?"

The audacity made Kitao bristle, but he replied evenly, “Why? You in some kind of trouble?” Yuzuki glanced around to ensure no one was listening, then leaned in to lower his voice.

“Not exactly work-related. I had a bit of a spat with my girlfriend. I was hoping to get some professional advice from him.”

Last year, Yuzuki had married a woman five years his junior in a shotgun wedding. He’s talking about his girlfriend, not his wife? So the trouble’s probably with a mistress, Kitao thought. Yuzuki likely wanted to exploit their old school connection to get free advice instead of paying a lawyer by the hour. Though he boasted about working for a top company, Eito Bussan, and traveling overseas for surfing trips, his frugality stood out in all the worst ways.

“I hear he’s pretty busy these days,” Kitao deflected.

But Yuzuki persisted. “Don’t be stingy; just tell me already.” Reluctantly, Kitao gave him only the name of Nagano’s law firm, avoiding sharing any personal contact information. He hadn’t seen Yuzuki or spoken to Nagano since, so what became of the issue with the girlfriend remained a mystery.

Though rumors swirled, no one knew where Nishizaki was or what he was doing. If he died somewhere quietly, it wouldn’t be surprising, Kitao had thought. So when he learned Nishizaki had moved into Nagano’s apartment, it was a shock.

Nishizaki was the one who had spread the story of Nagano’s father’s crime in high school. Despite the betrayal, Nagano had decided to let bygones be bygones and even extended a helping hand. The depth of Nagano’s compassion left Kitao dizzy.

Now nearing thirty, Nishizaki bore no trace of the brilliance he once exuded. His hair was unkempt, his eyes sunken, and his frame so thin it resembled a malnourished cat. His face was still handsome, but gone was the air of arrogance that once screamed, The world revolves around me.

Nagano had explained he was only letting Nishizaki stay temporarily after Nishizaki left his live-in job and had nowhere to go. But Kitao couldn’t shake the sense that trouble was brewing—and he was right.

Nishizaki attempted to break into Nagano’s law office to steal something. Fortunately, the security guard intervened, and no theft occurred. But for Nagano, who had taken Nishizaki in out of sheer goodwill, it was a slap in the face. Only then did Nagano finally realize Nishizaki was someone he shouldn’t associate with.

Despite Nagano’s generally cautious and deliberate nature, when it came to Nishizaki, his judgment had always been strangely naïve.

After the attempted theft, Nishizaki left Nagano’s apartment. He should have disappeared entirely, but instead, he got into a fight, was beaten to the brink of death, and fled to a police station for help. From there, he contacted Nagano, asking him to come.

Nagano should have ignored him. But his deep sense of compassion drove him to visit Kitao at work. After briefly explaining the situation, Nagano handed him an envelope filled with cash and bowed deeply.

“I’m sorry to ask this, but could you take this to the police station where Nishizaki is staying? Tell him to accept this and never contact me again.”

Kitao had been left speechless when he first heard the story. After being taken in and cared for, Nishizaki had repaid Nagano’s kindness with betrayal, leaving in a way that added insult to injury. Then, when he found himself in trouble, he shamelessly sought Nagano’s help again. The nerve! The sheer audacity of someone so thick-skinned. Nishizaki’s gall was incomprehensible. Had it never even crossed his mind that breaking into a law office constituted a criminal act? Nagano was no saint.

“I don’t mind helping, but wouldn’t it be more effective if you told him off yourself? After what he pulled, a few punches would be perfectly justified,” Kitao suggested.

Nagano’s expression remained hard. “I don’t want to see his face right now,” he said, looking down. Kitao understood that sentiment—when anger boiled over, the sight or even the sound of the person responsible could become unbearable. It was for Nagano’s sake that he had gone to the police station and thrown the envelope of cash at Nishizaki.

After completing the “mission,” Kitao had called Nagano to report back. When he explained that he had delivered the money and warned Nishizaki to stay away, Nagano apologized profusely. “Thank you. I’m really sorry about all this.”

… The cold wind rustled the leaves on the trees in the apartment complex. Ah, now that I think about it, he already thanked me over the phone, Kitao recalled belatedly.

“Hey, I’ve been wanting to try the ramen place by the station,” he said. The thought of warming up with hot food appealed to him, and he remembered their thick, handmade char siu from a previous visit. “Want to go?” It didn’t matter to him if Nagano agreed or not, but he got no reply.

“Or is there something else you’d rather eat?”

The sound of an approaching ambulance siren grew louder, then faded as it turned down another street. Nagano suddenly lifted his downcast head.

“I’m sorry you came all this way, but I’m thinking of heading out for a bit,” he said quietly.

“What? Now? Where to?”

“The riverside promenade,” Nagano answered.

“The promenade? Along the embankment? It’s pitch dark over there at this time of night. Did you drop something? If so, I’ll help you look,” Kitao offered.

Nagano hesitated, his face troubled, then muttered, “Nishizaki might still be there.”

“He was injured. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Kitao’s temper flared, his head suddenly hot. “That bastard! I told him in no uncertain terms to stay away from you, and now he’s lurking around again?” He clapped his right fist into his left palm. “I’ll go drive him off.”

He moved to leave, but Nagano grabbed his arm to stop him. Turning back, Kitao heard Nagano say firmly, “I’ll go.”

“But you don’t even want to see Nishizaki’s face. That’s why you asked me to handle it in the first place,” Kitao protested.

“That’s true,” Nagano admitted. “But leaving him there in that condition—I couldn’t help thinking it’s wrong.”

When Kitao sighed, Nagano’s grip loosened.

“You’re too kind,” Kitao muttered.

Nagano denied it emphatically. “I’m not being kind.”

“You are. That’s why someone like Nishizaki takes advantage of you. That guy’s a self-destructive loser. He’s not worth your time or effort—I’ve thought so from the start.”

“I don’t intend to help him anymore. It’s not about that... I just need to make sure he’s not there. Once I confirm that, I’ll feel better.”

But what if Nishizaki is there? Kitao wondered. If that scumbag pathetically begs for help, Nagano won’t abandon him. He’ll say it’s the human thing to do.

“I’ll go check the promenade,” Kitao offered. “If he’s not there, that’ll be the end of it.”

“I already asked you to take the money to the police station. I can’t ask you to do more,” Nagano said.

“You shouldn’t be the one to go,” Kitao countered firmly, his tone unyielding.

"Don’t spoil that piece of trash any further," Kitao said sharply.

Nagano’s half-open mouth shut tight.

"Even if he ends up dead, it’s his fault he got hurt. He chose to stay on the promenade, and whatever happens as a result has nothing to do with you."

Nagano listened silently, then exhaled slowly, lowering his gaze and placing a hand to his forehead. "You’re probably right... I just don’t know what’s the right thing to do anymore."

"I’ll check it out. You stay home."

Nagano looked him in the eye. "Am I crazy?" he asked quietly.

"You’re not crazy," Kitao replied bluntly. "You’re just feeling sympathy for an old classmate. But listen, there’s no reason for you to keep helping him, especially when you’re the one getting hurt in the process. ...Alright, I’ll head out."

Leaving Nagano at the door, Kitao walked off. He turned from the street in front of the apartment complex into an alley heading east. Climbing a set of concrete steps, he reached the riverside promenade. It wasn’t as dark as he had expected—streetlights dotted the area sporadically, their weak light creating isolated patches of illumination.

The path stretched far, from the large bridge along the highway in the south to the northern end of the promenade. Kitao decided to walk north, heading toward the nearest bridge, and then turn back.

The uneven lighting left long stretches of darkness, broken only by small spots of light. As Kitao walked through the cold and empty path, he found himself thinking about Nagano, who had been ready to return to confirm Nishizaki’s whereabouts.

Back in high school, when Nishizaki insulted Sakamoto, I judged him then and there. And I stand by that judgment even now. Nishizaki had revealed Nagano’s father’s crime to the class, and now he’d tried to steal from Nagano’s workplace. Twice, Nagano had been wronged by him. Yet Nagano still couldn’t let go of his concern. This overblown sense of compassion is only bringing him pain.

Kitao thought back to the time Nagano had broken up with his long-term girlfriend. Kitao had met her a few times—a confident, stunning woman—and it had been obvious that Nagano was completely smitten. Kitao had even thought they might marry someday. But then, out of nowhere, Nagano stopped mentioning her. When Kitao asked, Nagano had casually admitted, "She broke up with me."

"She dumped you? Why?"

"She said she fell for someone else."

Nagano had said it with a detached expression, as though talking about someone else’s life.

"That’s awful! You were together for years, weren’t you?"

"The length of a relationship doesn’t matter," Nagano had replied. "If she found someone she likes more than me, that’s just how it is. No one can control their feelings for someone."

"And you’re okay with that?" Kitao had held back from saying more—You were serious about her. Weren’t you planning to marry her?

"It’s sad, of course. But she was honest with me, and I accepted it. I hope she finds happiness, even if it’s not with me."

Nagano’s calm, almost enlightened demeanor had left no room for Kitao to argue. Still, Kitao couldn’t understand how he wasn’t furious at the man who had swept her away. How could Nagano not only forgive her change of heart but also wish her well? He accepts and absorbs everything. But does he ever have a place to let it out? That thought had prompted Kitao to propose, "Alright, let’s drink until we drop tonight!" But Nagano had coolly deflected him, saying, "I have work tomorrow."

And yet, he’s punched me before, so it’s not like he never loses control.

After walking for ten minutes, Kitao saw no sign of Nishizaki. The only person he passed was a high schooler on a bike, dressed in a tracksuit. He’s probably left already. Kitao felt satisfied that he’d checked and decided Nagano would be, too. He didn’t bother going all the way to the bridge, instead setting his sights on the next streetlight before heading back.

Just as he stepped into the shadowy gap between lights, he noticed a black mass lying at the edge of the path. His breath caught.

At first glance, Kitao thought it might be a dog, but it was far too big for that. It looked more like a person curled up on the ground. In the dim light, it was hard to tell. Hesitantly, he approached, and as he got closer, his suspicion solidified—it was definitely a person. What’s someone doing out here like this?

Though he couldn’t make out the face, the figure wore a white shirt and grayish pants. From the build, it was probably a man. The outfit reminded him uncomfortably of the clothes Nishizaki had been wearing earlier when he sat on the folding chair at the police station. A bad feeling crept over him.

The hem of the white shirt fluttered in the wind. Even with a coat, Kitao could feel the cold biting his fingers. How can he stand it in such light clothing?

The curled-up figure looked both like Nishizaki and like a total stranger. At last, Kitao understood the worry that had driven Nagano to want to check. No matter how much of a scumbag someone is, leaving them out in this freezing cold feels wrong.

“Excuse me... are you alright?” Kitao called out, his voice tentative.

No response.

“Are you feeling sick?”

Still, the person didn’t move. The word dead flashed through Kitao’s mind, and a chill ran down his spine. Could they be dead? This is bad.

Kitao crouched next to the figure and placed a hand on the back of the white shirt. Through the fabric, the body felt icy, devoid of warmth or life. Goosebumps erupted across Kitao’s skin.

“Hey! Are you okay?” he shouted, shaking the figure hard. The lifeless body gave a sudden, trembling spasm.

Grabbing the shoulders, Kitao hauled the figure upright and forced a look at the face. Pale lips, closed eyelids, and a deathly white complexion like a wax figure—it was unmistakably Tatsuya Nishizaki.

＊ ＊ ＊

“Hey, Nagano? It’s me...”

Kitao’s voice echoed in the dim, empty hallway.

“I walked along the embankment, but Nishizaki wasn’t there.”

“I see.”

Over the phone, Nagano’s voice sounded relieved.

“Sorry for the late update. My girlfriend called and said she needed me to come over immediately for something urgent, so I’m on my way to her place now. I feel terrible leaving you hanging like this, especially since I invited you, but can we cancel dinner tonight? I’m really sorry.”

“That’s fine. Honestly, I should be the one apologizing for making you go to the police station and check the promenade. Sorry for using you like that.”

Footsteps approached—a nurse in a white uniform.

“Don’t worry about me. Talk later.” Kitao ended the call and slipped his phone into his coat pocket.

A young nurse, probably in her early twenties, with a small beauty mark near her mouth, asked, “Are you a family member of Tatsuya Nishizaki?”

“No, but... how is he?”

Nishizaki had been taken to the hospital by ambulance. Even as he was admitted to the ICU, he hadn’t opened his eyes or spoken, only shivering uncontrollably.

“He was hypothermic. We’ve been gradually warming him up, and he’s stabilized enough to regain consciousness. You can speak with him briefly.”

He’s not going to die. The thought brought Kitao some relief.

“The doctor wants to explain his condition. Should we wait for his family to arrive?”

“Yes, probably. I’m just an acquaintance.”

Kitao didn’t consider Nishizaki a friend. Since graduation, they hadn’t interacted at all. “Acquaintance” felt like the most appropriate label for what they were.

"Do you know how to contact Mr. Nishizaki’s family?" the nurse asked.

Kitao didn’t have an answer. Does Nishizaki even have family? He recalled hearing at a school reunion that his mother and older brother had passed away. What about his father? Come to think of it, hadn’t his father died too? There was some mention, a long time ago, about an uncle stepping in as a father figure... but Kitao wasn’t sure.

“I don’t really know. Sorry,” he said.

“I see. I’ll try asking him directly, then,” the nurse replied, letting the matter drop without pressing further.

“Nishizaki has been moved to a general ward, so you can visit him now. I’m headed to his room—would you like to come with me?”

The nurse started walking, and Kitao hurried to follow.

“He’ll be admitted, right? How long do you think he’ll stay?”

“I can’t say for certain without checking with the doctor, but he may stay for two or three days for observation.”

If it’s only a short admission like that, he’s fine. Finding him collapsed, calling an ambulance, and ensuring he got treatment—Kitao felt he had done his duty as an acquaintance and as a fellow human being. There was no reason for him to stay any longer.

“I think I’ll head out. There’s really nothing for us to talk about,” Kitao said.

The nurse stopped and turned to him. “His room is just ahead. Why not at least take a quick look? I think it might reassure the patient to see a familiar face.”

Reassure him? Kitao couldn’t imagine Nishizaki being happy to see him. But then a different thought occurred. Despite Kitao warning him at the police station to stay away from Nagano, Nishizaki had casually shown up near Nagano’s apartment again, completely disregarding what he’d been told. If Nishizaki recovered, his shameless self might pester Nagano again.

Maybe I should warn him more firmly this time. Kitao thought about telling him outright that if he kept loitering around, Nagano would have no choice but to press charges.

Nagano’s compassion was deep, and if Nishizaki showed weakness again, Nagano might extend his help once more. Kitao couldn’t bear to watch Nagano get dragged into more trouble because of that scumbag.

If Nishizaki couldn’t work due to his health, Kitao might feel some sympathy. But in that case, Nishizaki could apply for public assistance. There was no reason for Nagano to shoulder the burden of Nishizaki’s life. I’ll make that clear to him this time, Kitao resolved.

“Alright, I’ll stop by for a bit.”

Just as the nurse had said, they walked only a short distance before stopping in front of a door with a “215” plate. The nurse gave the sliding door a light knock.

“Excuse us,” she said as she entered, with Kitao following close behind.

The room was a private space, roughly eight tatami in size. A bed was positioned sideways to face the window. Nishizaki lay there, his head tilted to the left, glancing at them out of the corner of his eye.

“Someone who knows you has come to see you,” the nurse said cheerfully.

But Nishizaki neither responded nor acknowledged her. Instead, he pointedly averted his gaze.

Kitao stopped in the middle of the room, maintaining a deliberate distance from the bed. He looked at Nishizaki but made no move to approach. The nurse turned to him.

“Would you mind if I spoke to the patient first? It won’t take long.”

“Of course, go ahead,” Kitao replied, keeping his tone neutral.

Kitao couldn’t very well scold the weakened man in front of the nurse. That would have to wait until they were alone.

Spotting a sofa along the wall, Kitao sat down to wait. The nurse pulled up a folding chair next to Nishizaki’s bed.

“Let’s chat a little,” she said, smiling kindly. “Your body should be feeling better now that your temperature is coming up, but if talking gets too tiring, let me know, okay?”

“Do you have the contact information for your family?” she asked.

“...No one,” Nishizaki croaked in a hoarse voice that sounded like a frog’s croak.

"What do you mean by 'no one'?"

"Parents, siblings, all dead," Nishizaki rasped.

The nurse let out a small "Ah."

"I see. In that case, do you have any relatives...?"

"No relatives either."

The nurse paused momentarily, then asked, "So, you’re on your own. Could you tell me your address?"

"I’ve been staying at an acquaintance’s house. I don’t have a place of my own."

The nurse turned toward Kitao, who immediately waved his hands in denial. "He wasn’t staying with me!" he blurted, only to regret it the moment the words left his mouth. What if he mentions Nagano’s address?

The nurse, seemingly unconcerned, asked Nishizaki, "Do you have a health insurance card?"

"I don’t," he replied.

Kitao swallowed hard. Who doesn’t have health insurance these days? If he doesn’t, that means...

"In that case," the nurse continued, "you’ll need to pay for your treatment out of pocket. Will that be alright?"

"Got no money," Nishizaki sighed.

This is bad. Really bad.

"You’ve got the 20,000 yen Nagano gave you, don’t you? Where is that money?" Kitao asked, cutting into the conversation.

Nishizaki let out a dim "Ah," as if remembering. "Uh... maybe it’s at the police station?"

The nurse silently watched the exchange.

"This guy doesn’t have insurance," Kitao said, addressing the nurse. "But he has cash on hand to cover the hospital bills. I’ll vouch for him."

The nurse nodded. "Understood. Just in case, could you provide your name and contact information as his acquaintance?"

She’s trying to make me his guarantor. Kitao inwardly bristled but realized he couldn’t avoid some responsibility for bringing Nishizaki here in the first place. Begrudgingly, he shared his details, though unease spread through him like storm clouds. With no insurance, how much will the full cost of treatment be? He didn’t even want to imagine.

After the nurse left, the atmosphere in the room shifted abruptly. The air grew colder, heavier, and more strained.

Kitao stepped closer to the bed. Nishizaki’s face was still pale, his lips tinged with an unhealthy blue-gray, as he stared at the blank ceiling.

"Was it you who brought me to the hospital?" Nishizaki asked without turning his gaze.

"It was," Kitao answered. "What the hell were you doing out there in the cold?"

No reply.

"You weren’t planning to go to Nagano’s apartment, were you?"

Still no response. Kitao had intended to lay into him, but seeing Nishizaki’s frail, listless form, he softened. I just need to get the message across.

"I told you already—don’t involve yourself with Nagano anymore. He has his own life to live, his own responsibilities. You need to rebuild your life yourself."

Nishizaki continued staring at the ceiling, his expression unchanged, as though he hadn’t heard a word.

"I’ll sue him," Nishizaki muttered finally, his lips barely moving.

"What?" The words were so out of place it took Kitao a moment to process them.

"I’ll sue Nagano," Nishizaki repeated, his tone casual, like he was commenting on the weather or a trip to the convenience store.

"Are you out of your mind? If anyone’s going to get sued, it’s you," Kitao snapped.

"He tried to kill me," Nishizaki said flatly.

The calmness of his tone made the statement chilling rather than absurd.

"Use your head," Kitao shot back. "Do you honestly think Nagano would ruin his own life by laying a hand on someone like you?"

A thin, raspy breath escaped Nishizaki’s bluish lips.

"If my body temperature had dropped any further, I would have died. The doctor said so. I also have a cracked rib and a dislocated leg. I told him I couldn’t move. He knew, but he left me there without listening. ...Knowing my life was in danger and abandoning me—that’s premeditated murder, isn’t it?"

That’s not true! Kitao thought, his heart racing. Nagano was worried about your condition and wanted to go back to check on you. I was the one who stopped him and took on the task instead. But if Kitao said that, Nishizaki would realize Nagano cared about him, and it would only embolden him further. A man who could threaten to sue someone who had helped him simply because things didn’t go his way was beyond reasoning.

"You’re an idiot," Kitao shouted, his voice echoing through the room.

Nishizaki’s eyes shifted for the first time, his black irises fixing on Kitao.

"You’re throwing a tantrum like a child," Kitao snapped. "After Nagano left, didn’t anyone else pass by? Of course they did. Your leg hurt, you couldn’t move, you were cold—did you call out to anyone for help? No, you didn’t. Why does it have to be Nagano who helps you? What you’re doing is a pathetic, half-baked performance, putting your life on the line for attention!"

For the first time, Nishizaki’s expression changed. His previously blank, hollow eyes were now filled with anger, radiating hostility.

"Shut up! What is it you?!" he shouted hoarsely, his voice cracking.

"I didn’t ask you to help me! No one asked you to stick your nose into my business and lecture me! Just shut up already!" Nishizaki spat, his tone sharp and venomous.

Then, as if to twist the knife further, he added, "And what’s with those glasses of yours? Those thick frames aren’t a fashion statement—they’re ugly as hell. What are you, wearing your grandfather’s hand-me-downs?"

Kitao’s face burned red with embarrassment. He recalled a female coworker once telling him, "I think thinner frames would suit you better, Mr. Kitao." Was that her polite way of saying they looked awful and I should get new ones? No, this wasn’t the time to be worrying about his glasses.

"My glasses don’t matter," Kitao growled. "You’re blaming Nagano for your injuries, but they’re not his fault. When I saw you at the police station, you were already beaten up and a mess. Stop shifting responsibility onto others. You freeloaded at his house, caused him trouble, and then pulled a stunt like this when he didn’t pay attention to you. And now you want to sue him? You’re insane. Nagano isn’t your parent or your sibling. If you want to die, go die on your own."

Tears welled up in Nishizaki’s eyes, and he began to sob, shoulders shaking as he gasped for air. Kitao looked away, but the sound of his crying still reached his ears. Maybe that was too harsh... No, this was something Nishizaki needed to hear. He was the type of person who would blame others for his own near-death experience. And after all the trouble Nagano had gone through, he even gave Nishizaki money to sever ties.

"...Should’ve let the yakuza kill me," Nishizaki muttered weakly, his raspy voice carrying a note of despair.

Kitao’s heart thudded. So he was involved with that kind of crowd. Any fleeting sympathy Kitao had felt for him evaporated instantly.

"I don’t know what happened," Kitao said sharply, "but if you ended up entangled with those kinds of people, it’s your own fault."

Nishizaki let out a bitter laugh, crossing his thin arms over his face as if to shield himself.

"It’s all my fault. Everything’s my fault, huh?"

Exactly, Kitao was about to say, but stopped himself. His gaze fell to Nishizaki’s arms, the sleeves rolled up to reveal thin, bruised limbs covered in dark blue welts. The sight of them was startlingly painful.

"I was just tricked. The one who actually tried to outsmart the yakuza is long dead."

Yakuza, murder... It sounded like a line straight out of a movie or drama. But this was real life. Nishizaki had been left for dead and survived. Then who…?

"Who got killed?" Kitao asked sharply.

"Tsubame," Nishizaki replied.

Kitao felt his irritation spike. "That’s a bird! Don’t screw around."

"It’s a nickname, idiot," Nishizaki said, his tone laced with annoyance. "I don’t know his real name. He stole money from the yakuza and ran. In the end, they caught him and buried him in the mountains of Chichibu."

Nishizaki continued as if recalling a casual memory. "Oh yeah, they said they cut off Tsubame’s arm and fed it to a dog. Crazy, right?"

Nishizaki gave a short laugh, but Kitao couldn’t find any part of the story remotely amusing. Surely not...

"You reported this to the police, didn’t you?" Kitao asked, his voice laced with tension.

"Of course not," Nishizaki scoffed.

"Why the hell not? A man was murdered!"

"If they find out I snitched, I’m dead. Besides, I don’t even know exactly where in the mountains he’s buried," Nishizaki said matter-of-factly.

I can understand the logic, but this blatant self-preservation makes me sick.

"Did it ever occur to you that Tsubame might have had a family? People who are worried sick about him?" Kitao demanded.

Nishizaki pointed at him, his expression mocking. "You don’t get it. This isn’t your world of logic and decency. Why should I risk my neck for a guy who screwed up and got himself killed?"

To Nishizaki, life seemed no more valuable than the fleeting existence of a disposable character in a novel.

"You can still go to the police. It’s not too late."

Nishizaki remained silent.

"Then I’ll report it myself," Kitao snapped.

Nishizaki’s eyes widened in surprise.

"I’ll tell them that someone with the nickname ‘Tsubame’ was killed by the yakuza and buried in the Chichibu mountains."

"Stop it!" Nishizaki’s voice cracked. "I ran away from them. If the cops start sniffing around, they’ll know it came from me. Their information network is no joke. They’ll find me and kill me. Are you trying to get me killed?!"

I’ve stepped into a swamp I should have avoided. Kitao realized too late. If I hadn’t asked, I wouldn’t have this burden. But now I know, and there’s no going back.

He looked down at the pathetic figure on the bed—this man who had caused Nagano so much trouble and now dragged Kitao into his mess after only a few hours of involvement. This guy is a curse.

Nishizaki smirked faintly. "You’re looking at me like I’m a cockroach or something."

Kitao felt his jaw tighten.

"You hate me, don’t you?" Nishizaki sneered. "So why did you bring me to the hospital? If you’d left me alone, I’d be dead by now, just like you wanted. You’ve always been like this, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. If I’d died, Nagano would’ve been wracked with guilt for abandoning me. Serves him right, don’t you think?"

"Then go ahead and die now," Kitao said, his voice icy and cold even to himself.

Nishizaki flinched, his breath catching. His lips trembled, and tears began to flow from his eyes as he let out a broken sob.

"...Call Nagano," he whimpered.

Kitao said nothing. This man is filth. He used guilt and threats to hurl mud at the one person who had shown him kindness. How can someone be this arrogant and ungrateful?

"Call Nagano! I said, call him, you four-eyed bastard!" Nishizaki shouted, his voice raw with frustration.

Ignoring the outburst, Kitao turned and left the room.

As he walked down the dim hallway, Nishizaki’s furious face kept flashing in his mind. He felt utterly drained. The dark thought—It’d be better if that guy just died—rose within him, but he forced it down with a heavy sigh.

＊ ＊ ＊

Within thirty minutes of the call, Sakamoto showed up at their usual family restaurant. Back in high school, Sakamoto had been a train enthusiast. After graduating from university, he’d landed a job with the city’s transportation bureau. Although they had attended different universities, both had stayed in the Tokyo area, and they still met up occasionally.

Sakamoto, who had weighed over 100 kg (220 lbs) when they first met, had slimmed down dramatically after getting married last year. He finally looked more like an average guy rather than a pint-sized sumo wrestler.

"My wife keeps telling me to cut back on fried food," Sakamoto said with a cheerful grin, as he ordered pizza, fried chicken, and French fries. Watching him, Kitao could easily imagine the struggle his wife must face.

"It’s past nine. I figured you’d already eaten," Kitao remarked.

Sakamoto chuckled. "My wife went on a trip with her girlfriends to see a concert, so I’ve been on my own. I was debating what to do about dinner when your message came through. I thought, Hey, it’s been a while since I’ve been to a family restaurant—why not?"

Sakamoto gulped down his drink from the soda bar noisily. As Kitao watched his easygoing, earnest friend, he felt the tension that had built up from dealing with Nishizaki start to ebb away. Ah, this is what “normal” feels like.

"So, what’s this consultation you mentioned? Don’t tell me you’re getting married," Sakamoto teased, his eyes sparkling with interest.

"Unfortunately, it’s not that kind of news," Kitao said with a faint smile.

He had been dating his girlfriend for three years, but marriage hadn’t come up between them yet. She was busy with work, and it felt hard to broach the subject. Kitao took a sip of his oolong tea to brush off the thought.

"Didn’t you mention you had a cousin in the police force?" Kitao asked.

Sakamoto shook his head. "Nope. He works for a security company."

"Really? I could’ve sworn you said he was a cop."

"Nah. He’s a bit of a geek like me and always talks about the latest security gadgets. Writers and screenwriters often ask him for advice. I told him to be careful about sharing too much, though—don’t want that kind of info getting out in the open." Sakamoto laughed.

So much for that idea. Kitao had hoped to get some insights from a professional and had called Sakamoto first, only to find out his memory had failed him.

"But why are you asking about police connections? Got something going on?" Sakamoto asked casually, tilting his head.

Kitao hesitated. He had written in his message that he needed advice, and now he was asking about police officers—it was no wonder Sakamoto was curious. Kitao debated for a moment. Sakamoto’s trustworthy. Maybe I can get some objective advice from him.

He explained the situation in vague terms, leaving out Nishizaki’s name, and mentioned hearing a story about a murder.

"Wait, are you serious? This isn’t a joke?" Sakamoto interrupted twice, his face growing serious.

As he munched on a slice of pizza, Sakamoto let out a thoughtful "Hmm."

"Honestly, I think what you said at first is the best option—tell this guy to go to the police himself."

"But he insists he’ll be killed if they find out he talked," Kitao replied, frustrated.

Sakamoto popped a piece of fried chicken into his mouth and shrugged. "But if he’s already on the run from the yakuza, doesn’t that mean they’re after him anyway? Whether he reports them or not, isn’t he already a target?"

The logic hit like a slap. He’s right.

Kitao had no counterargument.

"A layman like me can only say, 'Go to the police!' I don’t know anyone in law enforcement, not even among classmates or acquaintances... Oh, wait, didn’t you mention meeting up with Nagano before?"

Kitao stiffened.

"Nagano’s a lawyer, right? He might have some interaction with the police if he’s handling cases, and maybe he could offer some advice. Why don’t you consult him?"

Kitao remembered Nagano once mentioning things like meeting a client at a police station or working on a wrongful conviction case. He knew Nagano would likely provide sound advice, but he didn’t want to drag Nagano into any more trouble involving Nishizaki.

"Lawyers probably know the proper procedures for reporting to the police," Sakamoto added.

Kitao internally wished Sakamoto would drop the idea. Nagano should be left out of this. Outwardly, he nodded. "Yeah, maybe."

"I’d think it through carefully, though," Sakamoto cautioned. "If the killer gets wind that word’s leaked, they might move the body."

The image of someone in a deep forest, shovel in hand, digging up a body flashed across Kitao’s mind.

"Surely they wouldn’t go that far," he muttered.

"You never know. Without a body, there’s no way to prove a murder happened. I guess I’ve been reading too many mysteries," Sakamoto said with a laugh.

By 11 PM, as the family restaurant closed, they left. At the corner near a convenience store, Sakamoto said, "Keep me posted if there’s any update on the murder case. I’m curious!"

Kitao stood by the door of a nearly empty train, staring absentmindedly out the window as the cityscape blurred past. Even after calling Sakamoto out, he hadn’t found a solution. If anything, his anxiety about the need to do something had only grown.

Should I go to the police tomorrow? he wondered. But with so little information, they’ll probably laugh me off or dismiss me outright. Still, reporting it might give him a sense of fulfilling his duty. But is there any point in reporting something just to feel better about myself, if it doesn’t lead anywhere?

The hand strap creaked under his weight as he leaned into it, a sharp reminder of how this burden wasn’t even supposed to be his. Why am I the one agonizing over reporting this? It’s Nishizaki’s responsibility. If only I hadn’t heard that story... But there was no going back now.

Even if the man is already dead, they need to find him quickly. Kitao doubted, like Sakamoto, that anyone would bother moving the body, but he couldn’t be sure.

After endless spiraling thoughts, Kitao got off the train at the station closest to Nagano’s apartment. Even as he walked past the ticket gate, he was still unsure. Step by step, he approached Nagano’s apartment, the clock on his phone reading 11:45 PM. It’s such a late hour—if he’s already asleep and gets woken up by the intercom, I can’t blame him for being annoyed.

As the building came into view, he decided to send a message first: “What are you doing?” If there was no reply, he’d leave.

To his surprise, Nagano’s response came almost immediately: “Reading a book. Sorry for causing you so much trouble today.” The politeness of the reply felt undeserved.

“Can I drop by for a bit?” Kitao started typing but couldn’t bring himself to send it. Instead, he found himself standing in front of Nagano’s door. I didn’t want to involve him with Nishizaki, which is why I lied about not finding him on the promenade and took Nishizaki to the hospital myself.

But now here he was, hesitating. Maybe I should just leave. If I run, I can still catch the last train. Then I’ll go to the police in the morning. Even if they dismiss me, it’s all the information I have.

Just as Kitao decided to leave and turned on his heel, he heard the sound of a door opening behind him. Startled, he spun around to see Nagano stepping out in a black tracksuit, tilting his head in confusion.

"Kitao?"

Kitao froze, caught off guard. Nagano stood there in the doorway, looking at him with a curious expression. Am I really about to drag him into this mess again? This is the worst.

"Didn’t you just send me a message?" Nagano asked. "What brings you here at this hour?"

Kitao’s cheeks twitched involuntarily as he stumbled through his response. "Uh... yeah, I was meeting up with Sakamoto nearby, so I thought I’d drop by."

"I thought you said your girlfriend called you earlier?"

Kitao froze, realizing he’d completely forgotten the lie he had told when taking Nishizaki to the hospital.

"Uh, well... after I met her, I caught up with Sakamoto too..." His excuse was painfully awkward, but Nagano simply smiled faintly.

"Busy guy," Nagano commented, letting it slide.

"What about you? Where are you off to at this hour?" Kitao asked, deflecting.

"The convenience store. I ran out of cigarettes."

"You smoke?"

Despite all their meals together, Kitao had never once seen Nagano light up.

"Occasionally... I’ll be right back, so feel free to head inside. You don’t need to wait out here."

"I’ll go with you," Kitao offered, his curiosity piqued.

"If there’s something you need, I can grab it for you," Nagano replied.

"I’ve been slacking on exercise lately. It’ll be good to stretch my legs."

Nagano began walking.

“You’re not locking the door?”

"I’ll only be gone a short while," Nagano said casually, dismissing the issue.

It’s careless, Kitao thought. But it wasn’t his place to question the homeowner’s judgment. For someone usually meticulous, Nagano occasionally had surprising lapses.

The two strolled leisurely down a deserted sidewalk. Even in a tracksuit, Nagano’s tall, upright posture gave him an athletic, disciplined air—like a professional athlete.

"Do you still run?" Kitao asked.

"Every morning, if the weather’s good."

"You’re consistent. That’s impressive."

Nagano tilted his head, eliciting a faint cracking sound from his neck. "I guess delivering newspapers every morning as a kid made it a habit. If I don’t move in the morning, I feel restless all day."

As they walked, Nagano swayed his torso slightly, stretching his muscles. Kitao noticed him fall silent, his chin resting thoughtfully on one hand.

Nagano was upright, conscientious, and wholesome—everything Nishizaki, with his swollen face and bitterness-laden tears, was not. Their worlds couldn’t be further apart.

I can’t let Nagano get involved with Nishizaki anymore. Still, Kitao needed advice. What if I frame the situation vaguely, like I did with Sakamoto? That way, I might get guidance without dragging Nagano into it.

"Actually," Kitao began hesitantly, "there’s something I wanted to ask you."

Nagano turned to face him. "What is it?"

"It’s about... one of my girlfriend’s friends," Kitao lied. "That friend said they heard about someone being killed."

Nagano’s face sharpened instantly, his expression switching to serious mode.

"You’re talking about murder?"

"Probably. I only know what I’ve been told, but it sounds like someone was definitely killed. The body hasn’t been found yet."

"Then you should report it to the police immediately. Delaying the investigation could give the killer time to escape."

"No, the killer’s identity is already known," Kitao said quickly. "According to this friend, the victim was buried in the mountains of Chichibu, and the perpetrators are part of some outlaw group."

"Do you know the victim’s name or anything specific about the group?"

"Not that much. The friend is scared of retaliation if they go to the police. Plus, they’re worried the police might not believe them."

Nagano’s side profile was so serious that Kitao found himself blurting out, "Sorry."

"For what?"

"For dragging you into this mess."

"It’s fine," Nagano replied evenly. "Do you think you could get more details from your friend? If they’re genuinely in danger, I could speak to the police on their behalf."

If the information comes from a lawyer, even without a victim’s name, the police might take it seriously, Kitao thought. But for that to work, he’d need to get Nishizaki to talk.

And that’s no easy task.

"Could I meet this friend of yours directly?" Nagano asked.

Kitao swallowed hard. "Um... well..."

"If the information is secondhand, there’s a chance some details have been miscommunicated. I trust you because they’re your acquaintance, but I’d like to hear the story firsthand and make my own judgment, just in case."

I can’t let that happen. Even with the details obscured, Nagano hadn’t caught on that it was Nishizaki, but under no circumstances could he meet him. What do I do? How do I handle this?

Nagano’s willingness to help was exactly why Kitao had broached the subject, expecting his support. But Nagano was already offering more than Kitao had anticipated—and it was cornering him.

"It’s late tonight, but tomorrow’s a weekday, and I’m off work. I have time," Nagano continued. "Could you contact this friend? If we can meet during the day, I can act immediately. But of course, it depends on their schedule—I’m flexible."

Though the chilly wind brushed past, sweat dampened Kitao’s armpits.

"Ah, no... I mean, it’d be asking too much of you..." Kitao stammered.

Nagano shook his head. "I’ve inconvenienced you a lot with my personal matters. Let me at least help with this."

Nagano’s trusting gaze felt like a punch to the gut.

"It was strange for you to visit this late," Nagano added. "Hearing about a murder must have shaken you and your girlfriend. In my line of work, I deal with incidents like these often, so I’m familiar with the procedures."

Kitao’s heart raced. He’s trapping me with his sincerity. There was no turning back now. Not that it’s entirely a lie, but still...

As Kitao tried to think, a police officer on a bicycle emerged from the darkness beyond the streetlight. Stopping beside them, the young officer, likely in his mid-twenties, greeted them with a "Good evening."

"What are you two up to?" the officer asked, his gaze settling on Nagano in his tracksuit.

"On a convenience store run. I ran out of cigarettes," Nagano replied immediately.

"But you’re not carrying a convenience store bag, are you?" the officer said skeptically. "We got a report about two suspicious men wandering the neighborhood. I’d like to ask you some questions. What do you do for work?" The officer’s tone was blunt, even intimidating.

"I’m a lawyer."

"Can you prove that?" the officer asked curtly when Nagano mentioned his profession.

Without hesitation, Nagano pulled out his wallet and showed his office business card and an ID card. The officer glanced at the cards, then shifted his gaze upward at Nagano before awkwardly averting his eyes.

"Sorry for causing any concern," Nagano said, bowing slightly. "We didn’t mean to disturb anyone this late at night."

The officer muttered, "Just be careful," and pedaled away on his bicycle.

"That’s the second time I’ve been stopped like that," Nagano said with a sigh. "No one approaches me if I’m in a suit, even at night. I guess it’s all about appearances. ...Let’s move on."

Nagano started walking, his strides long and purposeful. Kitao had to hurry to keep up.

"If you’re going to contact your friend, it’s better to do it earlier," Nagano continued. The interruption from the officer hadn’t derailed the conversation for long.

"If your friend lives far away or can’t meet, I can go to them," Nagano offered.

"Look, this isn’t a job I’m hiring you for. You don’t have to go that far—"

"I don’t have plans tomorrow, and it feels meaningful to help someone. Keeping busy also keeps my mind off things," Nagano said casually.

He’s talking about Nishizaki, isn’t he? Kitao thought. I can’t pile another problem involving Nishizaki onto him.

"What’s the name of your girlfriend’s friend?"

Kitao swallowed hard. "Well, uh..."

Kitao froze in his tracks, unable to take another step. Nagano, a few meters ahead, turned back to him.

"What’s wrong?"

Kitao could feel sweat forming on his forehead. "Well..."

Nagano studied him closely, as if trying to read his thoughts.

"You’re acting strange," he said.

Kitao’s heart raced. Nagano was starting to suspect him. This is bad. He pulled out his phone to stall for time, but Nagano followed him, closing the gap.

"I’m just calling her now," Kitao said, feigning composure.

"If she picks up, let me speak to her too. I’ve got some questions," Nagano said.

Shielding the screen, Kitao pretended to make a call, holding the silent phone to his ear. "She’s not answering," he lied.

"Got it," Nagano replied, seemingly satisfied.

"Your girlfriend’s name is Karin, right?" Nagano said unexpectedly. "We exchanged LINE contacts a while back. Should I try reaching her?"

Kitao froze. He hadn’t known that Nagano and Karin had exchanged contact information. When did that happen? Worse, if Nagano contacted her, the entire lie would unravel.

"N-no, don’t!" Kitao blurted, grabbing Nagano’s arm before he could act.

Nagano didn’t pull away. Instead, he fixed his gaze on Kitao, scrutinizing him. "You’re hiding something from me, aren’t you?"

Kitao’s throat felt dry as he swallowed audibly. "I’m not—"

His voice trembled, betraying him.

"You weren’t calling anyone, were you?" Nagano said. "There was nothing on your phone’s screen."

Kitao let go of Nagano’s arm, lowering his head in defeat. He couldn’t even muster a defense.

"Why would you lie?" Nagano asked quietly. "I don’t believe you’d make something up to tease me. Is this story about your girlfriend’s friend really about you?"

"No," Kitao stammered, grasping for words. "It’s—"

His mind raced, but there was no escape. Nagano’s piercing stare made it clear there was no way out.

"Tell me the truth," Nagano said, his voice soft but firm. "There’s always a solution. No matter what you say, I won’t be shocked. I trust you."

The kindness in Nagano’s voice struck Kitao like a blow. He thinks I’ve done something wrong. He’s convinced of it.

"No, it’s not like that! I didn’t do anything! It’s Nishizaki—"

Kitao clamped a hand over his mouth, realizing too late what he’d let slip. Nagano didn’t react, his steady gaze locked on Kitao.

"What about Nishizaki?"

Silence would only confirm Nagano’s suspicions. Kitao took a deep breath and braced himself. There’s no avoiding it now.

"After I went to check the riverside, I told you Nishizaki wasn’t there. But the truth is, he was. He looked unwell, so I took him to the hospital."

"...Why lie about it?"

"I thought if I told you, you’d feel responsible and try to take care of him again. You already gave him money to cut ties. I didn’t want to see you get dragged into his mess anymore."

Nagano lowered his gaze, sighing deeply. "How is Nishizaki?"

"His temperature had dropped, but he wasn’t in any real danger. And the injuries he got from being beaten up weren’t your fault. I took him to the hospital, so I figured my part was done. But then he started talking about how someone he knew had been killed by the yakuza. He refuses to report it, and even if I wanted to, I don’t have enough information..."

Nagano furrowed his brow, pressing a hand to his forehead.

"I thought I could handle this without consulting you," Kitao admitted. "But I just don’t know what the best course of action is."

Nagano listened in silence, his presence charged with tension, like static electricity emanating from his body. Even without him saying a word, his anger was palpable. Kitao couldn’t even muster an excuse about wanting to keep Nagano away from Nishizaki.

"I’m going to get some cigarettes," Nagano said in a low voice. "You go back to the apartment. I need to cool my head before I return."

Before Kitao could respond, Nagano turned and walked away, his back disappearing down the street. Left standing alone, Kitao trudged back to Nagano’s apartment with his head lowered.

The apartment felt stifling without its owner. Kitao wandered aimlessly, consumed by guilt. Sure, lying was wrong. But I did it with Nagano’s best interests in mind. Couldn’t he understand that, just a little?

Even after thirty minutes, Nagano didn’t return. By now, it was past 1 a.m., and the last train had long departed. The convenience store couldn’t have been more than a five-minute walk from where Nagano had left him; he’d even seen its sign from the street.

With nothing else to do, Kitao glanced around the room. It was hard to believe this modest, cramped space belonged to a lawyer nearing his thirties. Despite presumably earning a decent salary, Nagano hadn’t moved out of the apartment he’d been in since his student days. The layout was unchanged, just as unpretentious as ever. Nagano hasn’t changed at all.

Feeling suffocated, Kitao stood up and approached the window. Peering out, he spotted Nagano standing under a streetlight below, smoking alone. The sight startled him, and he quickly closed the curtain, feeling as though he’d intruded on something private.

Fifteen minutes later, Nagano returned. "Sorry I kept you waiting," he said, his earlier stern expression gone.

He handed Kitao a bottle of soda—the brand Kitao liked, since he didn’t drink alcohol.

"I need to clarify something," Nagano said, sitting down. "Can I take everything you said about your girlfriend’s friend and apply it to Nishizaki instead?"

There was no use denying it now. Kitao recounted everything he’d heard from Nishizaki, leaving nothing out. Nagano listened without interrupting.

"Since the details are unclear, we should hear it directly from Nishizaki," Nagano said when Kitao finished. "We’ll decide after that whether he reports it himself or if I do it on his behalf."

"Write down what you want to ask him, and I’ll go talk to him," Kitao offered.

"No," Nagano replied firmly, his voice resolute. "I’ll do it myself."

"But what if he takes advantage of your kindness again and starts mooching off you?"

"Don’t worry about that," Nagano said. "But I want you there when I talk to him."

"Got it. I’ll be there," Kitao agreed.

"What time can you make it to the hospital tomorrow?"

"If there’s no overtime, I’ll be off work by six. Let’s meet there at seven," Kitao suggested.

"Thanks for agreeing to help," Nagano said, apologetically.

"I should be the one apologizing," Kitao replied. "I’m the one who brought this mess to you. Though the real culprit here is Nishizaki."

Nagano reached for a pack of cigarettes from the convenience store bag, lit one, and then paused. "Mind if I smoke?" he asked belatedly.

"It’s your place. You don’t need my permission," Kitao said.

Truthfully, he didn’t like cigarettes, but it wasn’t his place to complain. Nagano exhaled a thin stream of smoke, a tired sigh escaping with it.

"If I handle this alone," Nagano murmured, "I feel like I might lose control and just start yelling at him. I don’t want to be angry anymore."

His words hung in the air, soft but heavy.

"Why not just give that bastard a piece of your mind?" Kitao muttered. "He’s got a cockroach’s mentality—he can take it."

Nagano stood abruptly, startling Kitao. For a moment, he thought he was being ignored, but Nagano was just heading to the kitchen for an empty can. Returning to the table, Nagano crossed his legs and dropped ashes into the can.

"Why do you think Nishizaki told you about the murder?" Nagano asked.

"I don’t think it was about me," Kitao replied. "It felt like he let it slip in the middle of a conversation. If I hadn’t pushed for details, he wouldn’t have said anything about the victim or the situation."

"Then why didn’t he tell me?"

It didn’t matter who Nishizaki had chosen to tell—it was such a trivial point. But Nagano’s sharp gaze made it clear that this question wasn’t trivial to him.

"To be honest, I didn’t even want to hear about it," Kitao said bluntly.

Nagano averted his gaze, taking another drag on his cigarette. Then he bowed his head, pressing the remaining cigarette roughly into the bottom of the can to extinguish it.

＊ ＊ ＊

That afternoon, cold rain came in sporadic bursts, sometimes accompanied by strong winds. It was the kind of weather that made leaving the house a miserable prospect. The meeting point was in front of the hospital, but the wind blew the rain under the awning, forcing Kitao to retreat inside the automatic doors.

The waiting room was dim and deserted, its lights turned off after the day’s appointments. With ten minutes to spare, Kitao’s stomach growled loudly. Glancing around, he quickly fished out a small bag of sweets from his bag—probably a souvenir from a coworker’s business trip—and quickly stuffed one into his mouth.

As he chewed the overly sweet candy, a shadow appeared on the other side of the glass door. Kitao swallowed hastily, the candy lodging briefly in his throat, before moving toward the door. The shadow turned toward him, and Nagano stepped inside.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Nagano said.

"You’re early. I just got here too," Kitao replied.

Nagano removed his black coat, brushing it off lightly. Beneath it, he was wearing a navy suit, complete with his lawyer’s badge on his chest.

"Didn’t you say you had the day off today?" Kitao asked, confused.

"I do."

"Then why the suit?"

"I thought we might end up going to the police afterward," Nagano said.

The mention of the police made Kitao’s shoulders tense. He had wanted to keep Nagano away from Nishizaki’s problems, but now that the burden was shared, he found himself oddly relieved. Nagano will handle it somehow.

"I’m really sorry," Kitao said. "This is a lot to ask of you."

"This isn’t your fault," Nagano replied evenly. "Where’s the room?"

They took the elevator to the third floor, walking down a dimly lit hallway until they reached Nishizaki’s room.

"Here," Kitao said, gesturing toward the door.

Nagano stood in front of the closed sliding door, staring at the number plate. The faint smell of cigarette smoke lingered around him. Though Nagano had claimed to smoke only occasionally, it was clear he’d had one before coming. The thought that Nishizaki was causing him this much stress made Kitao’s guilt deepen.

"Look, if you don’t want to do this, just say so," Kitao said hesitantly.

Nagano turned to face him. “What do you mean?”

“You said yesterday you didn’t want to see his face. If meeting Nishizaki feels like too much, you don’t have to force yourself.”

“I’m not forcing myself.”

His tone was firm, almost brittle. Kitao wanted to insist again that Nagano didn’t have to do this, but it felt like pushing too hard. He let it drop.

Kitao knocked on the door, but there was no response. He hesitated, wondering if Nishizaki was asleep, then slowly slid the door open. Nishizaki lay on the bed, his eyes meeting Kitao’s. The sound of the television echoed faintly in the small room.

"If you're here, at least answer," Kitao called out.

"Shut up..." Nishizaki grumbled irritably but abruptly clammed up. His gaze shifted past Kitao to the person behind him. For all the racket he'd made yesterday demanding "Bring Nagano here," Nishizaki turned quiet the moment Nagano entered the room. He turned his back on them, avoiding eye contact. Nagano, on the other hand, was silent, his face as expressionless as if coated in plastic.

He’s hiding his anger, Kitao thought. Nagano had every reason to feel betrayed after everything he’d done to help Nishizaki, even letting him live in his apartment. That mix of tension and guilt in the air was palpable, making the atmosphere prickly enough to set anyone on edge.

"You don’t look much better than yesterday," Kitao said.

"So what?" Nishizaki muttered, still not meeting his gaze.

Nagano closed the door behind him, and Kitao stepped closer to Nishizaki. "About that story you mentioned yesterday—your acquaintance getting killed. I need you to explain everything in detail."

Nishizaki shifted slightly, still with his back to them.

"If we’re going to the police, we need to know exactly what happened," Kitao continued. "Once we have the full story, Nagano can figure out the next steps."

Nishizaki finally turned around, his face stiff and pale.

"There's no way I’m going to the police!" he snapped. "If I do, I’ll get killed!"

"That’s why Nagano’s here," Kitao said. "You’re not getting anywhere with us amateurs."

Nishizaki’s lips quivered, his mouth half-open.

"Start from the beginning," Kitao pressed. "Who killed your acquaintance, and how do you know about it?"

"No way! I’m not telling you. It’ll get me killed!" Nishizaki shouted.

"That’s exactly why we’re trying to figure this out!" Kitao barked back.

"How the hell should I know!" Nishizaki yelled, visibly agitated.

Kitao’s patience snapped. I’m trying to help him, and he won’t listen! He clenched his fist, barely resisting the urge to slap the arrogant expression off Nishizaki’s bruised, swollen face.

A hand gently touched Kitao’s shoulder. Turning, he met Nagano’s calm, steady gaze.

"If he doesn’t want to talk, there’s no point staying here," Nagano said quietly. "Let’s go to the police and tell them what little we do know."

If it had been up to Kitao alone, he might have hesitated. But with Nagano by his side, the decision seemed clear.

"Fine," Kitao said, turning toward the door.

"Wait! Don’t go!" Nishizaki shouted.

Nagano’s icy glare silenced him. The sheer force of it made Nishizaki flinch.

"Let’s go," Nagano said, walking toward the door. Kitao followed.

"Don’t leave! I’m serious! I’ll get killed! Their information network is insane—they’ll track me down and kill me for sure!" Nishizaki’s voice cracked in desperation.

Nagano paused just before the door, glancing at Kitao. Without a word, Kitao understood Nagano’s unspoken plan: He’s testing Nishizaki, shaking him up.

"Who’s going to kill you?" Kitao asked, turning back to Nishizaki.

"I... I don’t know their names. They’re from the Mikuruma gang..." Nishizaki stammered.

Nagano’s strategy worked. The gang’s name slipped out effortlessly.

"How the hell did you get involved with those guys?" Kitao pressed, stepping closer.

"Tell us everything, or we’re going to the police," he threatened, his voice sharp and uncompromising.

Nishizaki clutched the sheets, his fingers trembling. “Damn it... Damn it!” he cursed under his breath repeatedly, his voice cracking. Finally, his shoulders slumped, and he let out a deep, heavy sigh, as though the weight of his situation had finally crushed him.

“Back when I was partying at a club... there was this dealer called Tsubame...” he began hesitantly, his words crawling out like reluctant confessions.

＊ ＊ ＊

The story Nishizaki recounted about his "acquaintance being killed" felt utterly foreign to Kitao. It was as if he were listening to the plot of a drama or novel rather than something rooted in reality.

If Nishizaki’s story was to be believed, he had been recruited for a high-paying host job that involved physical relationships. Though he completed his work, a drug dealer who managed the operation stole the earnings and disappeared. Because the operation was run by the yakuza, they decided Nishizaki was also responsible, even though he hadn’t received a single yen. They beat him mercilessly, accusing him of complicity. The yakuza were connected to a defendant in a case Nagano was handling. When they discovered Nagano and Nishizaki knew each other, they threatened to kill Nishizaki unless he stole incriminating evidence to sabotage the trial.

The acquaintance who was killed was the drug dealer who had run off with the profits. Nishizaki claimed the yakuza had told him the man was captured, his limbs cut off, and his body buried in the mountains of Chichibu. Nishizaki was also set to be killed, but during the drive to Chichibu, the yakuza’s car was involved in an accident. Taking advantage of the chaos, Nishizaki escaped and sought help from Nagano.

Unnecessarily, Nishizaki described the moments when the yakuza beat and kicked him in excruciating detail, occasionally glancing at Nagano for a reaction.

"That’s why—I’m telling you—I was really about to die," Nishizaki repeated over and over, as if trying to convince not only Kitao and Nagano but also himself. The ordeal sounded harrowing, but the more he tried to emphasize his suffering, the more it seemed like he had brought it upon himself. Kitao couldn’t find any other words to describe it but self-inflicted.

Nagano didn’t sit down, despite being offered a chair. He stood, arms crossed, silently listening without interrupting Nishizaki’s story.

"...You could file a report," Nagano finally said in a flat voice. "Tell the police you were assaulted by two yakuza before their car accident. You can also inform them that they admitted to murdering someone. If the perpetrators are yakuza, the police will act quickly."

"No way!" Nishizaki shook his head vehemently. "The ones who did the killing were just lackeys. The boss will throw them under the bus, saying, ‘They acted on their own.’ And then they’ll come for me because I snitched."

"So, you don’t want to file a report or have your name disclosed as an informant?" Nagano clarified.

"I don’t want to walk into danger!" Nishizaki yelled.

"I see," Nagano sighed and turned to Kitao. "Let’s go."

Surprised, Kitao blurted, "Wait, that’s it?"

"There’s nothing more to gain here," Nagano replied calmly.

From the bed, Nishizaki, alarmed, called out, "You’re leaving? What are you going to do? Are you going to the police?"

Nagano’s cold stare bore down on Nishizaki, silencing him.

"We’ll talk to the police," Nagano said evenly. "Your name won’t be mentioned. They can contact the officers at the police station where you called for help. From there, they can identify the yakuza involved in the accident. With surveillance cameras or GPS, they can trace the car’s route and potentially locate where the body was buried."

"Wow," Kitao murmured, impressed by Nagano’s methodical explanation. It sounded as if capturing the perpetrators would be straightforward.

Nishizaki, who had been listening intently, let out a relieved sigh. “So… uh…” he began, glancing at Nagano hesitantly. “Will you come back here again?”

The question, so childlike in its simplicity, was met with a cutting response.

“No,” His response was sharp, immediate, and devoid of sympathy, like swatting away a fly.

Hearing Nagano’s tone made Kitao wince. He had worried that Nagano might let his compassion get the better of him again, but there was no trace of that now, it was clear now that Nagano wasn’t holding back.

"Kitao consulted me about the best course of action, so I came to see for myself," Nagano continued. "If you had chosen to file a report, I would have provided professional advice. But since you won’t, there’s nothing more for me to do."

“But—!” Nishizaki stammered, his tone reminiscent of a scolded child. He looked pleadingly at Nagano, who didn’t budge.

“This isn’t work. I have no reason to come back.” His voice was cold, utterly devoid of patience or indulgence.

"Work? What work?"

Nishizaki’s face contorted in anger, his body trembling as he clenched his teeth.

"Then... fine! I'll file the report! That’s what you want, right? It’s work for you, so do your damn job!"

Nagano's previously stoic face darkened with anger. It was the same expression he'd had when he lashed out at Kitao in high school. Though usually calm and serious, Nagano had a dangerous side when he was provoked. No matter how much of a scumbag Nishizaki is, he’s still a patient, Kitao thought. If Nagano looked ready to hit him, Kitao would have to intervene—it was his responsibility for bringing Nagano here.

But suddenly, the storm brewing in Nagano’s expression vanished. His face went blank.

"Very well, Nishizaki-san. Would you like to make this an official request for my services?"

Nagano’s tone shifted, becoming entirely professional.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Nishizaki spat.

“Simply put, I need to know if you’re officially hiring me,” Nagano clarified, his tone still neutral. "I’ll prepare a formal statement based on what you’ve told me. But if this is an official request, it will incur costs for the preparation and attorney fees. Are you prepared to cover those?"

"I... I don’t have the money," Nishizaki stammered, his previously combative demeanor crumbling instantly.

"Then it seems my services are not an option," Nagano replied flatly.

"Are you messing with me?" Nishizaki snarled.

"I’m not. Asking for services you can’t afford is the real mistake here. Of course, if you’re serious about this, I could consider installment payments or deferred compensation," Nagano added matter-of-factly.

"You already know I can’t pay, don’t you?" Nishizaki shouted, his voice desperate.

"Stop whining!" Nagano’s voice thundered through the room, the air itself seeming to vibrate.

"If you can’t pay, then drop the idea! If you want my services, figure out a way to raise the money—work, borrow, beg, I don’t care!"

Nagano's words were undeniably logical, but to Kitao, they seemed brutal, especially for someone bedridden like Nishizaki, who had broken ribs and a severely injured leg. Working anytime soon was out of the question.

"But... but..."

"If you don’t have the money, don’t hire me. If you want to, do it yourself. Either way, I’ll still report this to the police."

Wait a minute, Kitao thought. If Nishizaki doesn’t want to file a report and he’s afraid of retribution from the yakuza, why did he suddenly bring up hiring Nagano?

"You money-grubbing bastard! Fine, I’ll borrow or steal or whatever—just to pay your damn fees, you son of a bitch!" Nishizaki exploded, hurling insults like a tantruming child.

Kitao braced himself, fearing Nagano might finally snap and strike Nishizaki. But instead, Nagano’s expression turned cold, his emotions retreating behind an icy mask.

"Understood. It’s settled as a formal request. I’ll prepare the necessary documents and be in touch." Nagano’s tone was clinical as he briskly left the room, leaving Kitao momentarily stunned.

Nishizaki, now seething, grabbed a pillow and hurled it toward the door Nagano had exited. It flopped weakly to the floor, not even reaching its target. He muttered curses—“Damn, my side hurts,” “Screw him, I hope he dies”—before collapsing on his stomach on the bed, motionless.

Kitao picked up the fallen pillow and placed it back at the foot of the bed.

"Look, for what it’s worth, I don’t think you need to hire Nagano," Kitao said cautiously. "He already said he’d report it to the police, so there’s no need for you to go through all that."

Nishizaki didn’t respond. Nagano’s frosty behavior had been enough to unsettle Kitao, but the fact that he now found himself trying to console Nishizaki of all people felt surreal.

"You keep saying you don’t have money, but you still have the money Nagano gave you, right? That should cover your hospital bills and get you by for now. Once you’re discharged, you can find a live-in job somewhere."

"Money..." Nishizaki muttered, his expression vacant. "How much does it even cost to hire a lawyer?"

"I don’t know," Kitao admitted, "but honestly, just drop it. Don’t get hung up on this."

Nishizaki sniffled and rubbed his eyes, muttering under his breath, "That guy’s a demon..."

"What?"

"He said if I don’t become his client, he won’t talk to me anymore," Nishizaki said, his voice trembling with an emotion Kitao couldn’t place.

Kitao tilted his head, puzzled by Nishizaki’s words. What did he mean?

"That guy said he wasn’t coming back here anymore. And then he went on to say that if I wanted to talk to him, I’d have to pay up and officially become his client. Even though I told him I didn’t have any money… It’s the worst."

Hearing it phrased like that, Kitao could see how Nishizaki might have interpreted Nagano’s words that way. But the Nagano Kitao knew wasn’t a man so cruel or petty.

Nishizaki buried himself under the sheets and refused to come out, ignoring every attempt at conversation. Kitao wanted to leave him alone for good, but something kept him from walking away completely. He muttered, "I’ll come back later," as he exited the hospital room.

Descending to the ground floor, Kitao walked toward the hospital’s main entrance. Under the sparse lighting, a tall, dark figure stood just outside the automatic doors.

"I thought you might’ve gone home already," Kitao said, quickening his pace.

"You took a while," Nagano replied.

"Nishizaki was being difficult," Kitao explained.

"I see," Nagano said, averting his gaze. "Did he say anything?"

"He called you a demon," Kitao said, trying not to laugh.

"A demon, huh?" Nagano responded with a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

"You were pretty harsh in there. But honestly, I get it. Nishizaki’s entitled attitude is infuriating."

Nagano didn’t reply, his silence unnerving.

"It’s fine, though. You had every right to be angry. Still, Nishizaki seemed pretty shaken by it."

Outside, the steady sound of rain filled the silence. Nagano lifted a hand to his mouth, his expression clouded.

"Why does Nishizaki want to hire me?" Nagano muttered to himself. "Even without filing a complaint, I told him I’d still report it to the police."

Kitao pointed a finger at him. "I told him the same thing—that if he didn’t have the money, he should just drop it. But he insisted on hiring you anyway. He’s terrified of the yakuza finding out. And then he started saying weird stuff about you demanding payment just to talk."

"That doesn’t make sense," Nagano said, his tone as puzzled as Kitao felt.

“I want to keep a boundary between Nishizaki and myself,” Nagano said after a pause. “If I think of him as just a client, I can stay rational. I can handle things responsibly.”

Wanting distance but also taking on responsibility—it felt contradictory to Kitao. He’d been sure Nagano wouldn’t let his emotions sway him when it came to Nishizaki, but hearing the word "responsibility" stirred unease in him again.

"In the end, maybe you’re just destined to get tangled up with Nishizaki no matter what," Kitao quipped, attempting to lighten the mood.

Nagano’s face turned serious, making Kitao backtrack hurriedly. "I’m joking, okay? Just a joke."

"Where do the right answers for relationships lie?" Nagano asked quietly, almost to himself.

Kitao didn’t have an answer.

"Thinking about Nishizaki makes my head a tangled mess," Nagano admitted. "It’s like a knot of emotions I can’t untangle."

Nagano’s profile, somber and reflective, tugged at Kitao. He clapped him on the shoulder, harder than intended.

"You’ve been through a lot, man. It’s not something you can sort out in a day or two, so don’t beat yourself up over it. Let’s go grab something to eat."

Nagano raised his head and offered a small smile. "I’m not really hungry."

"Too bad. You’re coming with me. Let’s go."

They braved the rain under the hospital’s awning. Kitao prepared to get wet on the way to the street but managed to flag down a taxi just as it dropped off another passenger.

Inside the cab, Nagano leaned forward, gazing upward out the window. Curious, Kitao followed his line of sight.

On the third floor, silhouetted against the light, a figure stood by the window. That must be Nishizaki, Kitao thought.

As the taxi began to move, Nagano leaned back into the seat, closing his eyes. He exhaled a deep, weary sigh.

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