WELL: Chapter 10

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Returning to the store that never stopped smelling like old rubber shoes, Ryousuke entered the storage room still dripping wet. Shinobu locked the door behind them, and just as Ryousuke was about to say, “There’s no need for this anymore,” the candle’s flame went out.

The weight of a cold body pressed down on him in silence, and for once, something about Shinobu’s presence felt dangerously off.

“What are you—”

The touch of lips against his own, disturbingly real and intimate, threw Ryousuke’s thoughts into chaos. Someone had just died. Shinobu had killed him. How could he be doing something like this right now?

“Stop it!”

He shook his head, but Shinobu kept coming. His wrists were pinned down with one hand, his chin seized with the other. There was no escape as the kiss continued. His right leg throbbed with pain, completely immobile, and all his free left leg could do was swing uselessly through the darkness.

“Ryou-chan, you’re weak.”

The words fell quietly.

“I didn’t know it’d be this easy to pin you down.”

Spoken so close, he could feel Shinobu’s breath. His shirt was pushed up, and when cold fingers brushed his bare skin, Ryousuke shuddered all over.

“Stop it, what the hell—”

“I love you, Ryou-chan. Even if you’re selfish, even if you always made a fool of me, even if you don’t love me back…”

The confession sank, heavy, into his chest.

“I killed someone for you, Ryou-chan. So now it’s your turn to save me. Save me.”

His mind felt like it was going to crack. Shinobu had lost control and killed someone—and now he was demanding that Ryousuke carry the weight of that choice. A hand gently stroked his hair.

“Because you’re worthless now, Ryou-chan. You’ve got a bum leg, you can’t work, all you do is eat. Everyone in the ‘dig crew’ calls you a freeloader.”

Ryousuke had sensed it—guessed as much—but hearing it out loud made his blood boil.

“Shut up. Shut your mouth.”

A rough, wet cheek brushed his.

“You can’t do anything anymore, Ryou-chan. All you’re good for is comforting me. Once I’m gone, no one will want anything to do with you. No one needs you.”

“Uwaaaaahhh…!”

Ryousuke screamed. Everything that had piled up inside him came gushing out. His uselessness, the shifting world around him, the future he couldn’t see. Everything was pitch-black—there was no light ahead.

“But I still love you, Ryou-chan. Maybe I’m the only one left who does.”

“Open your mouth,” Shinobu said.

The repeated command started to terrify him, and eventually, Ryousuke opened his mouth. Shinobu’s tongue slipped in through the gap, making him flinch. It turned into a long, revolting kiss—one that felt far too much like what lovers would share. Fingers traced along his stomach, slid down his thigh, and stopped right at his knee.

“Ryou-chan, open your legs.”

Trembling, Ryousuke shook his head.

“Open them.”

That commanding voice left no room for resistance. As his knees trembled and parted, Shinobu slid his body between them. Ryousuke let out a broken sob and wept.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Taki never came back to the subway shelter. The next day, Tamura went to search for him and returned carrying both Taki’s and Ibuki’s belongings—Taki, now dead. There were no signs of suicide, and the cause of death was unclear. Someone mentioned it might have been heatstroke. As for Ibuki, he remained officially missing. But the prevailing rumor was that he alone had been rescued. In the face of these deaths, Tamura said nothing, simply making the sign of the cross before the grave.

About ten days later, on a clear day, Ryousuke, returning from the toilet, spotted Tamura standing by the subway station entrance, holding a radio. Tamura was looking up at the sky and didn’t notice Ryousuke at first. His expression was tinged with a sorrow Ryousuke had never seen on him before.

“I thought that radio was broken,” Ryousuke said.

Tamura jumped and turned around, startled.

“Ah, Ryousuke-kun…”

The radio in his hand emitted a low static, like the sound of waves against the shore.

“Are you getting any signal?”

“No, it’s broken after all,” Tamura replied with a wry smile, switching the device off.

“It’s lunch break now, so if you’re looking for Shinobu-kun, he’s probably inside, resting with the others.”

“I’m not looking for him.”

Tamura chuckled softly. As Ryousuke walked across the sand, his right leg faltered, and he stumbled forward. Tamura caught him, and in doing so, the radio slipped from his hand and fell into the sand. After picking it up, Tamura took Ryousuke’s hand without being asked and helped him forward. As they neared the entrance, the feel of sand beneath their feet disappeared, and so did the difficulty of walking. Naturally, Tamura let go of his hand.

“Your leg still seems bad.”

His gaze was sympathetic, but not unpleasant.

“Being able to walk at all is already an improvement.”

“You’re admirable,” Tamura said, narrowing his eyes kindly.  “…By the way, how are we on food? Will it last another month?”

“Two weeks.”

Tamura sighed. After Ibuki disappeared, the task of managing the food supply had been passed on to Ryousuke. Only after taking on that role did Ryousuke begin to understand—unwillingly—the pressure that had driven Ibuki to such desperation. The food in storage, dwindling with each passing day and rarely replenished, was a stark, visual countdown of their remaining days. Tamura said, “Let’s talk for a bit,” and invited Ryousuke to sit beside him on the cracked concrete.

“When the food runs out, we’ll go to the Matsui department store underground. They’re not heartless. Maybe they’ll help us. I’m thinking of bringing it up at a meeting around the week after next.”

Tamura’s thoughts were always forward-looking, and that alone was what kept the group going.

“I’m glad you have Shinobu-kun with you.”

He said it out of nowhere.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like. You’re handling the most stressful job—managing food—so well. I figured it might be because you’ve got someone close with you. It gives you some peace of mind. Ibuki always complained to me about it. Said his stomach was in knots…”

Tamura gave a strained smile, then folded his fingers together in front of his forehead and lowered his head.

"I keep thinking," Tamura said, "maybe it was me who killed Ibuki..."

Ryousuke was startled by the confession. Shinobu had killed Ibuki—he’d seen it with his own eyes.

"Ibuki was a man with a strong sense of responsibility. That’s why I put him in charge of managing the food. But I knew it had been eating away at him. I knew, and still… I couldn’t do anything. Maybe he just couldn’t take it anymore—maybe he was overwhelmed, and ended up taking his own life."

"Everyone says he might’ve been the only one who got rescued," Ryousuke replied, though he found the words hollow even as he said them.

Tamura shook his head weakly. "There’s no way help is coming," he murmured.

The radio clicked on. The soft sound of waves—no, static—poured out.

"I used to live near here. When the tuning was just right, you could pick up broadcasts from Korea and China. But now we can’t even catch Japanese stations. Ibuki and I talked about it. We agreed—something’s definitely wrong. Maybe it’s not just a local desertification. Maybe it’s something bigger. Maybe all of Japan... or at worst, the whole world’s in the same situation."

Tamura gave a faint laugh.

"That’s why Ibuki was so desperate. If it’s true that no help is coming, we have to conserve what food we have—that’s what he kept saying. But I didn’t put any strict limits on rations. I thought if we’re all going to die anyway, it’s more human to eat properly and die a day sooner than to suffer through starvation just to live one more day. That’s where Ibuki and I disagreed."

Tamura’s fingers were trembling.

"I’m sorry for saying all this. I really am. Sometimes it’s just too hard to carry the burden alone. But I felt like I could tell you, Ryousuke-kun. I felt like… you’d understand. Because you have someone to share the pain with."

Tears spilled from Tamura’s eyes.

"Ibuki had hope for life. He was far more forward-looking than me. He used to say, ‘We’ll all survive. I’ll do whatever it takes so everyone here can live.’ But I… I didn’t have that kind of obsession. I just wanted things to stay peaceful. My hope was that we could live out our final days without fear, with dignity, like human beings."

He wiped his wet face with the cuff of his shirt.

"Please don’t tell the others any of this. Living in this situation without hope would be… unbearable for them."

He looked up at the blue sky, where not even a bird flew. Even seated, Ryousuke felt dizzy from the brightness.

"What about you, Ryousuke-kun? What do you wish for… in all this?"

He didn’t know why Tamura had asked him that. Or what kind of answer Tamura was hoping to hear.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

After dinner, Ryousuke wiped himself down with cold water. Almost as if he had been waiting for that to end, Shinobu hugged him from behind, and Ryousuke let out a sigh of resignation—so it’s happening again today... The storage room, now used in a way completely different from before, became their new space. Slipping into the same curtained-off corner, Shinobu lifted Ryousuke’s T-shirt without hesitation. His underwear was yanked off, and the two of them, completely naked, began a wordless, animalistic kind of sex that was nothing more than kissing and penetration.

Unable to sleep alone, Shinobu always clung to Ryousuke afterward as he slept. And every time, he’d wake in the middle of the night shouting. Sometimes, he cried. He clung to Ryousuke, and even when he managed to fall back asleep, bad dreams would wake him again. Night after night, without fail.

Having sex with another man became part of daily life. Using condoms and lubricant found in the pharmacy reduced the physical strain, and though he didn’t want to, Ryousuke’s body had started to get used to it. He had no idea where his heart had gone. He didn’t want to think about anything.

Ryousuke, on the verge of drifting off, was stirred by the sound of Shinobu crying in his sleep. He was crying even as he slept. Even when Ryousuke woke him, the tears didn’t stop.

“They said there’s no rescue coming,” Ryousuke muttered to the crying boy.

“Tamura-san told me today. The whole country’s like this. No one’s coming to help us. So… what are you going to do?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Shinobu whispered, burying his tear-stained face against Ryousuke’s chest.

“I’ll get the death penalty if I’m rescued anyway.”

“Yeah. Probably.”

Shinobu looked up at him with teary eyes, then kissed him. A bitter kiss, filled with blame, biting down hard enough to draw blood. A sharp pain. The metallic taste of it spread through Ryousuke’s mouth.

“Do you have any hope?”

“Hope?”

“Tamura-san said it too. That without hope, no one can survive here.”

Shinobu didn’t respond. Ryousuke was about to fall asleep again when he finally heard him speak.

“Being loved by you.”

Ryousuke’s eyes opened.

“To be loved by you.”

There was no wish for rescue. Just a pitiful hope dragging him along. Shinobu kissed him again—another kiss that birthed nothing.

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