MUNDANE HURT: Chapter 16

Previous TOC Next

Masayuki Nagano squeezed a visit to a local police station into his busy schedule. Located about 3 km (1.8 mi) from his home, this was the same station that had contacted him about taking in Nishizaki. Not wanting to face Nishizaki directly at the time, Nagano had entrusted the matter to Kitao. This was his first time visiting the station in person.

Inside was a young police officer, probably in his twenties. Nagano explained that he intended to file charges of kidnapping, confinement, and assault against two men involved in a recent traffic accident in the area and asked for details about the incident. The officer was quick to assist.

“I remember it well,” the officer said. “A man ran in here naked, acting very strangely.” It had been Nishizaki.

With information about the hospital where the two men were taken, Nagano hailed a taxi and headed there. At the reception desk, after explaining the situation, he learned that one of the men had died that same day, while the other was still in the intensive care unit. If the other one survives, I can press charges, he thought. Back at his office, he prepared the necessary documentation for the charges. Since it was late, he planned to submit the documents to the police the following day during business hours.

By the time Nagano finished his work, it was past 7 p.m. His computer was still on, so he used it to search for low-cost apartments near his neighborhood. Apartments with a bath and toilet started at 40,000 yen, while more affordable units without those amenities were around 20,000 yen—but they were located over an hour from central Tokyo.

He had already suggested temporary public assistance to Nishizaki, but it had been flatly refused with a firm, “Absolutely not.” When Nagano reprimanded him for being unreasonable, Nishizaki shot back, “I’d rather die,” leaving Nagano at a loss for words.

Despite offering what seemed like the best options, Nagano's efforts were met with outright rejection. The memory of their argument at a family restaurant two days earlier still lingered—Nagano had shouted, “Do whatever you want!” only to be met with Nishizaki’s angry retort, “Leave me alone, you idiot!”

A notification chimed on his phone. It was from Kitao, inviting him to dinner with Sakamoto. Maybe being around people will help me stop overthinking, Nagano thought and replied, “I’ll come. Where’s the place?”

After tidying up his desk and saying goodbye to the remaining office staff, Nagano left for the station. As he received an email with the restaurant’s location, he realized he needed to switch lines since he was headed in the opposite direction. Hastily, he redirected himself to another train.

On the way, he stopped abruptly. A man in a khaki coat and jeans crossed in front of him, holding hands with a woman with long hair. They paused in front of a shop window. For a moment, the man’s profile caught Nagano’s eye—it bore no resemblance to Nishizaki. The coat was a discount store item, the kind anyone could own.

Placing a hand over his chest, Nagano exhaled. I wonder what Nishizaki is eating tonight, he thought fleetingly, before pushing the thought away. I’ll do my job, but I won’t get deeply involved anymore. There’s no point in trying to understand someone I can’t figure out.

Taking a train line he rarely used, Nagano arrived at an unfamiliar station. Guided by his phone’s GPS, he found the yakitori restaurant tucked into a backstreet. It was a new place for him. The moment he stepped inside, the smell of cigarette smoke hit him—apparently, the restaurant didn’t have separate smoking and non-smoking areas, a rarity these days.

He spotted the pair seated by the window. While Nagano had seen Kitao just two days ago, it had been three years since he last saw Sakamoto. Once barrel-shaped in high school, Sakamoto had slimmed down to a more typical build after getting married but now seemed to have regained some weight around his face.

“Long time no see, Sakamoto.”

“Since the barbecue right after I got married, yeah. I hear you’ve been as busy as ever.”

“Not too much,” Nagano replied, taking off his coat and sliding into the seat beside Kitao across from Sakamoto.

“Do you mind if I smoke?”

Nagano glanced at the smoke-stained ceiling as he made a token effort to ask for permission. Before he could light up, Kitao cut in, “Order first, then go ahead.” It made sense, so he rested his cigarette pack behind him and focused on the menu.

Nagano ordered beer and a standard selection of skewers—negima (chicken and scallion), tsukune (meatball), and a few others. The beer came quickly, and the three raised their glasses for a toast. The carbonation and alcohol warmed Nagano as they settled into his stomach.

“Hey, Nagano, how’s your older girlfriend doing?” Sakamoto asked casually. Kitao, sitting beside him, winced and shook his head. Sakamoto, oblivious, tilted his head curiously.

“What happened?”

“I got dumped. Must’ve been right after that barbecue we had.” Nagano’s tone was indifferent—it wasn’t something worth hiding.

“Seriously?”

“Wow, really? Her loss,” Sakamoto replied, chewing on sunagimo (gizzard) with deliberate force. “Nagano, you’re a catch.”

“I’m not,” Nagano said flatly, and he meant it.

“You are,” Sakamoto insisted. “At my wedding, my wife got a ton of messages from her friends asking her to introduce them to you.”

Kitao leaned forward over the table. “Back then, you already had a girlfriend, so we didn’t say anything. But if you’re interested, I could introduce you to one of her friends now.”

Nagano let out a dry laugh. “I don’t even remember their face anymore.”

“Well, it has been three years,” Kitao quipped with a laugh.

Three years ago… Her face flashed in Nagano’s mind.

A flood of old memories surfaced. She was older, beautiful, and he had loved her deeply. He thought she felt the same. He’d believed, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was the one he’d marry.

She was honest, forthright—qualities he admired. That honesty, though, had crushed him when she’d said, “I still love you, Masayuki, but I’ve fallen for someone else. I can’t lie to myself about how I feel.”

I loved her, but the decision wasn’t mine to make. She found someone she loved more, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Though the breakup stung, the love didn’t vanish overnight. It lingered, faint but persistent. The year after their split, he’d stumbled upon her homepage. She had married a foreigner, moved overseas, and was now running a bed-and-breakfast.

From time to time, Nagano found himself checking her website or looking up the city where she lived. Is this lingering attachment? Or just idle curiosity? Seeing her happy brought him some comfort, but it also left him with an aching void—he hadn’t been the one by her side. Yet he felt no regret for loving her.

Her voice echoed in his memory: “Masayuki, you’re too serious. You’re kind and sincere, and those are wonderful traits, but sometimes it’s suffocating being around you. You should smile more.”

Nagano cupped his cheeks with his right hand, gently massaging them. Even clients occasionally asked him, “Are you angry?” He tried to smile more often, but it still didn’t feel natural.

The urge to smoke hit him hard. He pulled out a cigarette from his bag. His smoking had increased lately, spilling into work hours. I know it’s a bad habit, but I can’t stop. There’s too much to stress over.

"Hey, Sakamoto, didn’t you say a relative of yours was dealing with some trouble?" Kitao’s words pulled Nagano back from his own thoughts.

"What kind of trouble?" Nagano asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Well," Sakamoto began, snapping a skewer in two, "a relative of mine was planning to rebuild an old apartment building they own. But the contractor they hired for the demolition and reconstruction went bankrupt. The deposit was already paid, and now it’s all a mess. They’re suing with the help of a lawyer. Honestly, though, it’s not really my problem."

"You should’ve just introduced them to Nagano," Kitao quipped, using a used skewer as a toothpick.

"I mentioned I knew a lawyer, but they’d already decided on someone. The building’s staying up for now, but they’ve been saying they should’ve kept renting it out until the last minute."

Nagano’s mind flicked to an image of Nishizaki. "Where’s that apartment?"

"Near Sugamo Station, a bit off from the park. Nice location, but it’s 60 years old. Shared kitchen and toilets, no baths. Rent was ridiculously cheap, like 20,000 yen a month."

It was a 15-minute train ride from where Nagano lived. If it was slated for demolition soon, they probably wouldn’t ask for deposits or key money. Even a short-term stay in a dirt-cheap place could work.

"Do you think someone could move into that apartment before it’s torn down?"

Sakamoto’s eyes widened. "What? Really? It’s a dump."

"The cheaper, the better," Nagano replied firmly.

"I’ll ask, but why the sudden need to move?"

"It’s not for me."

Sakamoto gave him a puzzled look.

"Is it for Nishizaki?" Before Nagano could answer, Kitao cut in.

"The same Nishizaki from high school?"

Nagano nodded silently, ignoring the growing curiosity on Sakamoto’s face.

"I heard at the reunion that he ended up in the hospital for liver trouble. What’s he doing now?"

"Unemployed. No home, no money. He says he’s willing to work, so until he saves up enough, he needs a place with the lowest possible rent."

Sakamoto frowned, deep in thought. Kitao leaned closer to Nagano and whispered, "You didn’t know, did you?"

"Know what?"

"Back in high school, Nishizaki used to call Sakamoto all sorts of nasty names. Fat this, fat that."

Nagano didn’t bother denying it. Sakamoto had been heavyset back then, standing out like a drum barrel, and Nishizaki saying those kinds of things was entirely in character. Words hurt, but the ones who throw them never imagine how deeply they cut.

"I’m sorry to put you in a tight spot with such a selfish request," Nagano said, bowing slightly. "If it’s too much trouble, feel free to say no."

Sakamoto looked up, his face softening. "It’s fine to ask. I’ll talk to my relatives. If they can get even a few thousand yen in rent, they might agree. But, Nagano, how long have you been in touch with Nishizaki?"

"About three months."

"Was it for work?"

"No... we ran into each other by chance."

Even if Nishizaki had orchestrated that meeting, Nagano wasn’t lying. Sakamoto sighed. "I see."

"As a lawyer, if you reconnect with someone from your past, I figured it’d be because of some work-related issue. You know, a legal matter. I only know the Nishizaki from high school, and at the reunion, I didn’t hear anything good about him. If something goes wrong after I introduce him to my relatives, I’d feel responsible."

Sakamoto’s concern was valid.

"Still, if he’s on good terms with Nagano, maybe Nishizaki isn’t all bad," Sakamoto mused, scratching his head.

Honestly, being unemployed, homeless, and broke already put Nishizaki below average in most people's eyes. Nagano wondered what baseline Sakamoto had for Nishizaki in his mind.

"Nishizaki has had his share of issues, but none of it has escalated into criminal charges. He’s dealing with some trouble, but in that situation, he’s the victim," Nagano explained calmly.

Sakamoto nodded thoughtfully.

"If he can stay there, I’ll make sure he doesn’t cause any trouble. I’ll take responsibility for keeping things in line."

Sakamoto gave Nagano a curious look and then laughed. "You’re like Nishizaki’s dad or something, you know that?"

The word "dad" caught Nagano off guard. He realized he might be overstepping. Maybe I’m getting too involved. He leaned back into his chair, pressing into it as though to ground himself. Pulling a cigarette from the pack on the table, he lit it and inhaled. If this arrangement worked out, at least the rent situation would be settled for now.

Nagano's feelings about Nishizaki were complicated. I cared about him. Maybe I still do. But it’s so frustrating. I’m angry, and at the same time, I worry about him. It makes me furious.

He knew deep down what it meant. I probably still care about Nishizaki. But he didn’t want to admit it, let alone show it. This isn’t like being with her, he thought, briefly recalling his ex. No matter how much I give, there’s no guarantee it’ll be reciprocated sincerely. Nishizaki tramples over everything without a second thought. I’m not going through that kind of heartbreak again.

As Nagano fell silent, the conversation between Kitao and Sakamoto flowed naturally, light and easy. The cheerful atmosphere was infectious, and Nagano found himself relaxing just by being near it. This is enough.

"You’re such a good guy, you know that?" Kitao slurred slightly, pointing a skewer at Sakamoto.

"You’re going out of your way to help out that jerk Nishizaki. You’re like a saint—a freaking saint." Kitao clasped his hands together in mock reverence before bursting into laughter.

“Don’t exaggerate,” Nagano smirked slightly as he ordered more karaage and downed a glass of chu-hai.

“I have to talk to my relatives. There’s no guarantee it’ll work out. Don’t get your hopes up, Nagano."

"I understand," Nagano said, nodding slightly.

"But man," Kitao leaned forward, spitting the words out with disdain, "Nishizaki was a real piece of work back in high school, wasn’t he?"

Spittle flew as Kitao vented his frustrations. "Sure, he was a jerk and all, but I kind of felt bad for him, you know?" Sakamoto said, leaning back in thought. "Even at the reunion, his best buddy, Yuzuki, was the loudest one trash-talking him. If a guy like that was his closest friend, Nishizaki must’ve been pretty bad at forming relationships."

"Bad at it? He flaunted his family’s wealth and looked down on everyone in the class," Kitao countered. "Yuzuki probably knew that and still hung around him anyway."

"Speaking of Yuzuki," Sakamoto added with a blink of realization, "I heard he got divorced and fired from his job."

Kitao let out a theatrical gasp, clutching his cheeks. "No way."

"Yeah, apparently, it all came out when his affair got exposed. Total workplace drama."

"He was hinting at it during the reunion, wasn’t he? Like he was proud of it or something. Serves him right," Kitao said, laughing.

Their laughter mingled with the din of the restaurant, voices ebbing and flowing like waves against the shore. Nagano’s eyelids grew heavy. He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, Kitao was shaking his shoulder.

"Tired?" Kitao asked, his expression concerned.

Nagano nodded sheepishly, embarrassed to admit it.

Sakamoto, who lived nearby, decided to walk home, leaving Nagano and Kitao to head to the station together. Nagano’s mind was still foggy, and the streetlights blurred into glowing orbs in his vision.

"By the way, Nishizaki called me yesterday," Kitao said suddenly.

The mention of Nishizaki snapped Nagano’s drowsy mind to full alertness.

"He was grumbling about how you suggested he apply for welfare."

"…Anything else?" Nagano asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

"Not really. That was it."

"Why does Nishizaki complain about me to you?"

"Because it wouldn’t be venting if he told you directly," Kitao replied matter-of-factly.

It made sense, yet Nagano felt a knot forming in his chest. Why does this bother me so much?

"Does Nishizaki call you often?"

"Eh, every now and then."

Nishizaki never called Nagano. Their exchanges were always through brief, detached emails. Nagano had been the one handling Nishizaki’s case and worrying about his living situation, yet it felt as though Nishizaki was closer to Kitao. That thought stung, though Nagano wasn’t sure why. He didn’t want to get too close to Nishizaki anyway. Yet, the idea of someone else getting close to him left a bitter taste in his mouth. Is this jealousy?

It wasn’t as though Nagano wanted Nishizaki to live in solitude. He even wished him well—just as long as it happened somewhere out of sight.

"You know," Kitao said with a chuckle, "the fact that he calls me at all might mean Nishizaki’s lonelier than we think. Kind of creepy coming from a middle-aged guy, though."

They rode the train together, parting ways at a transfer station. As Nagano waited on the platform, a young woman in front of him, wearing a white hair accessory, was typing something on her phone. It reminded Nagano to take out his own.

Scrolling through his contacts, his thumb paused over Nishizaki’s name. If he tapped the screen, he could call him instantly. But there was no reason to.

Closing the contacts list, Nagano opened his email instead. He had organized Nishizaki’s messages into a separate folder. Most of Nishizaki’s replies to his own emails consisted of a single stamped-out phrase: "Got it." There was no trace of emotion in them.

The low rumble of an approaching train grew louder. Nagano put his phone back in his bag, having done nothing at all with it.

＊ ＊ ＊

Nagano took a day off from work and accompanied Nishizaki to the police station just after 9 a.m. Together, they filed a report about the assault Nishizaki had endured at the hands of two thugs. A clerk referred them to the detectives in charge, and the presence of Nagano, a lawyer, ensured they were taken seriously.

During the questioning, Nishizaki—despite being the victim—was interrogated like a suspect. Through his testimony, the detectives identified the dealer known as Tsubame, whose real name had been reported by their family as missing two months ago.

By the time they had provided all the necessary information, it was past 3:30 p.m. Hungry and exhausted, they headed to a nearby gyudon restaurant.

Though Nishizaki had seemed drained after the intense questioning, he perked up immediately when his bowl of beef rice arrived, finishing it in record time. Satisfied, he leaned back, eyes half-closed like a contented cat. Meanwhile, Nagano ate quietly, glancing occasionally at his phone.

"Do you have plans after this?" Nagano asked.

Nishizaki tilted his head, a noncommittal gesture. "Not really."

"There’s an apartment slated for demolition where you could stay for free. You’d just have to cover utilities," Nagano began.

"An apartment?" Nishizaki echoed, his tone indifferent.

"The only conditions are cleaning the yard and turning lights on and off in a few rooms at night. They want to avoid squatters breaking in. The kitchen and bathroom are shared, but you’d be the only tenant. There’s a public bathhouse nearby for bathing."

"Sounds fine, I guess," Nishizaki replied vaguely, as if it didn’t really matter to him.

"Do you remember a guy from high school, Sakamoto?" Nagano asked.

Nishizaki tilted his head, clearly struggling to recall.

"The one who used to hang out with Kitao a lot. He was on the heavier side…"

"Oh, railroad fatty," Nishizaki said, recognition sparking in his eyes.

Nagano’s lips tightened slightly but he chose not to comment on the nickname. "Sakamoto’s relative owns the apartment. When we mentioned you needed a place, they agreed to let you stay."

Nishizaki’s face, once loose and casual, hardened instantly.

"So, you begged fatty to lend a room to pathetic, unemployed, homeless Nishizaki, huh?"

"Sakamoto isn’t as heavy as he used to be," Nagano replied.

"That’s not the point!" Nishizaki roared, then abruptly stormed out of the shop.

Nagano hurried after him, easily catching up just outside the café. Unless Nishizaki jumped into a taxi or a moving car, Nagano was confident he wouldn’t get far. Sure enough, he caught up within a few meters.

Nishizaki leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. "My side hurts," he muttered, wincing.

Nagano led him to a nearby café’s outdoor seating, pulling out his wallet as he headed inside to order. Leaving his bag on the table, he calculated Nishizaki wouldn’t abandon it and flee. When Nagano returned with a latte, Nishizaki was still there, sulking in his seat.

Handing the latte over, Nagano sat across from him. Nishizaki grumbled under his breath as he took a sip, but his expression softened slightly. "This is pretty good," he murmured, a brief smile flickering across his face.

Nagano blinked, caught off guard by the rare sight of Nishizaki smiling. He quickly looked away, embarrassed at his reaction.

"You can stay in the apartment until it’s demolished," Nagano said after a pause. "Use this time to save money and get back on your feet. You won’t have to face Sakamoto; I’ll be the one handling the key and any communication."

Nishizaki didn’t yell or try to walk out again, but his silence spoke of lingering doubt.

"Shall we check it out?" Nagano suggested. "There’s no gas in the kitchen, so you’d need a portable stove. But the water and electricity are working. If it seems suitable, you can move in as early as tomorrow."

After a prolonged silence and some grumbling, Nishizaki eventually followed Nagano out of the café.

They got off at Sugamo Station and walked through a nearby park. The apartment came into view, a two-story building with a worn-out look. Nagano stopped short, a faint sense of familiarity washing over him.

"Doesn’t it look like the place you used to live in during high school?" Nishizaki asked, pointing to the building.

Memories of his childhood apartment surfaced unexpectedly. It really does feel like that old place, Nagano thought.

The apartment had an old gate that Nagano pushed open. Nishizaki was assigned Unit 105 on the first floor, but Nagano had the master key for all the units, as Nishizaki was supposed to turn lights on and off in some rooms at night to deter trespassers.

"Wait, I think I hear voices," Nishizaki muttered, freezing in place.

"Voices? Here?" Nagano’s brows furrowed, unsure what to expect.

Before they could investigate further, a door on the first floor swung open, and out stepped Kitao and Sakamoto.

Nishizaki visibly flinched, his entire body jerking in surprise. He turned to Nagano, his face pale and his eyes wide with panic.

"What the hell is this?" he hissed, glaring at Nagano with bloodshot eyes.

"You said no one would be here," Nishizaki muttered.

"I didn’t know either," Nagano replied.

Noticing them, Kitao stepped over some weeds in the yard and approached. "Oh? Weren’t you moving in tomorrow?"

"I thought we’d take a quick look first…"

"Got it," Kitao nodded. "When I told Sakamoto that Nishizaki didn’t seem to have anything, he suggested we set up some essentials. We brought over an old futon, a desk, a shelf, and some bedding from my place. Use it or toss it—whatever you prefer."

Sakamoto joined them with a friendly smile. "Hey, Nishizaki, been a while. I also brought a rice cooker and a kettle. Hope they work."

"You should’ve tested them first!" Kitao chided, to which Sakamoto scratched his head sheepishly. "Ah, you’re right."

Though both had clearly gone out of their way to help, Nishizaki didn’t offer so much as a thank-you or even a greeting.

"You’ll take a look inside, right? It’s old, but someone was living here until a couple of months ago," Kitao urged.

Nishizaki silently followed. Inside, the room was visibly aged; patches of white plaster were peeling off the walls, revealing layers underneath. However, the tatami mats were in surprisingly good condition. The six-tatami main room connected to a smaller four-and-a-half-tatami one, making it more spacious than Nagano’s own apartment.

Thanks to the furniture Kitao and Sakamoto had brought, it looked livable right away.

"…It’s a dump," Nishizaki muttered.

"Well, it’s home if you make it one," Kitao said, his tone light.

Nishizaki turned to him sharply. "Then you live here."

Kitao’s cheerful mood evaporated as his eyes narrowed. He stomped on the tatami with his heel. "You know what, Nishizaki? Maybe it’s time you cut out that attitude. Sakamoto and I went out of our way to help you."

"Don’t act like I begged for it!" Nishizaki snapped. "I didn’t ask for any of this. Stop forcing your charity on me and demanding gratitude!"

The air between them turned tense. Sakamoto quickly grabbed Kitao’s arm and pulled him out of the room. Left alone, Nishizaki glared at the tatami.

"You knew about all this, didn’t you?" Nishizaki finally said, his voice low but laced with anger.

"I didn’t," Nagano replied.

"Don’t play dumb with me. You thought I’d be happy? That I’d smile like an idiot at this surprise? This… this…"

Nishizaki stomped on the bedding, his motions frantic. His foot slipped, and he fell backward with a heavy thud. Frustrated, he yelled, flailing his arms like a child throwing a tantrum. Then, as suddenly as it began, he stopped, collapsing face-first onto the same bedding he had been kicking moments before.

"…I don’t need anything," he mumbled into the blanket.

"You will, once you start living here," Nagano said evenly.

Nishizaki lifted his face, his expression livid. "That’s exactly why I hate you! You never understand—never listen! Get out, you damn idiot!"

His face twisted in fury, like a cornered cat ready to lash out. Nagano calmly left the room, shutting the door behind him. Outside, Kitao and Sakamoto were waiting by the gate.

"How’s he taking it?" Sakamoto asked.

"He’s angry," Nagano said bluntly.

Kitao clicked his tongue. Sakamoto scratched his head, looking apologetic. "Maybe we went too far," he said.

"No," Nagano replied. "What you brought was necessary. I understand it was an act of kindness."

Sakamoto gave a wry smile. "Sure, but we’re friends. Nishizaki… might not see it that way. The way he lashed out—it just seemed… painful."

Painful. The word reminded Nagano of their conversation at the beef bowl restaurant, where Nishizaki had described himself as "a miserable former classmate."

“Nishizaki might be more sensitive than we think. You know, back in the day, he was always stylish, kind of like a celebrity. Even now… well, his face is bruised, but he’s still good-looking,” Kitao mused.

Finally, a thread connected in Nagano’s mind. Nishizaki was ashamed—of himself and his current circumstances. That must be why he didn’t want to see anyone who knew him from before.

In the end, they decided to leave Nishizaki alone for now. Nagano stayed outside to wait, while Kitao and Sakamoto decided to head home. Just as they reached the gate, Sakamoto suddenly stopped.

“Oh no—the house key,” he said, patting his jacket pockets. “I think I left it in the room.”

Nishizaki hadn’t come out of the room since he blew off.

“Want me to go get it?” Nagano offered, but Sakamoto shook his head. “Nah, I know exactly where it is. I’ll be quick.”

Sakamoto headed back inside. What should have been a quick trip to retrieve a key took longer than expected, and when he returned, he was grinning.

“I talked to Nishizaki,” he said. “When he realized it was me, he said, ‘Sorry for calling you a railroad fatty back in high school.’ I told him, ‘You’ve always been cool, Nishizaki,’ and he went, ‘No need to flatter me.’ Honestly, he’s not that bad of a guy.”

Kitao scolded him, calling him too simple, but Sakamoto just laughed and headed off.

Once they were out of sight, Nagano returned to the room. Nishizaki was sitting slumped on the futon where he had been sprawled earlier. When he noticed Nagano, he let out a long sigh.

“This is my reality,” he muttered. “It’s exhausting.”

With that, he flopped onto the floor, staring at the ceiling before closing his eyes.

“Go home already,” he said.

“I can’t just leave you here.”

“I want to be alone. Do I really have to spell it out for you? Can’t you read the room, Mr. Lawyer?”

The words stung; it wasn’t the first time someone had said that to him. Nagano glanced at the key already handed to Nishizaki and turned to leave. But his feet wouldn’t move.

I don’t want to leave him here like this.

He stood frozen by the door. Nishizaki, still lying on the floor, glanced at him briefly but said nothing more. Instead, he began to hum a tune—a sad melody, one that seemed vaguely familiar yet unrecognizable. Nagano wasn’t into music, so he couldn’t place whether it was an old song or something modern.

For a while, Nishizaki hummed quietly, the melancholy notes filling the room. Then, as if exhausted from even that small act, he sighed once more and muttered again, “It’s exhausting.”

Previous TOC Next