WELL: Chapter 5

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The next morning, Ryousuke and Shinobu were brought to the subway shelter entrance by Tamura, where they were introduced to the preexisting residents. While they already knew Tamura, Ibuki, and Taki, everyone else was a stranger. The group was a half-and-half mix of students and working adults, with the oldest only in their thirties. Each one gave their name and the shop they lived in—shoe store, bakery, and so on—but Ryousuke, unfamiliar with the layout of the subway shelter, could do little more than nod silently.

The introductions ended without any kind of welcome, and the residents dispersed like a bundle of threads coming undone. Only Tamura remained and guided them deeper into the underground with a candle in hand.

“Everyone’s busy,” Tamura said. “We’ve all got assigned roles—cleanup, organizing supplies, things like that.”

That may have been the explanation, but Ryousuke could feel it plainly in the air—they weren’t welcome. And it was understandable. To the people living here, the two of them were just more mouths to feed in a place with limited resources.

Following Tamura and leaning on Shinobu for support, Ryousuke realized that he had actually been to this place before. It was in the opposite direction from the train line he usually took to middle and high school, so he had rarely visited. Originally, the underground mall had stretched in a cross shape centered around the subway station, but now half of it had collapsed, leaving only a hundred meters running north to south. Near the southern entrance, the corridor was completely blocked by rubble, so everyone only used that one entrance now.

Once Tamura finished explaining the layout, he turned and asked, “So, what are your plans for now?”

The two of them shook their heads. Tamura smiled.

“They’re digging out rubble at the central intersection. Shinobu-kun, if you’re up for it, do you think you could help?”

Shinobu, who had been supporting Ryousuke, tightened his grip and turned to him with a teary, uncertain face, asking, “What should I do?”—though there was really no choice to make.

“Just go. We’re going to be depending on them from now on, so the least you can do is help out a bit.”

But Shinobu still looked reluctant.

“But what’s Ryou-chan going to do without me? He can’t walk by himself. If I’m not here…”

“Don’t worry,” Tamura said. “I’ll take Ryousuke-kun home.”

“But I’ve always been the one looking after him…”

Tamura gave a resigned expression and started to say, “Well, if that’s the case—” when Ryousuke smacked Shinobu hard on the head.

“Just go already, you damn idiot. Stop whining.”

Tamura looked surprised, eyes going wide. “It’s not mandatory or anything…” he added hastily. But Ryousuke had understood Tamura’s intentions—he was trying to help Shinobu integrate quickly with the group. It was a thoughtful gesture, but Shinobu, dull as ever, hadn’t caught on.

“Ryou-chan, but…”

“Just go!” Ryousuke shouted.

With his mouth drawn into a flat line, Shinobu muttered, “Okay, I’ll go then,” clearly displeased, and stepped away. Even after he started walking, he stopped and looked back over and over again, like they were parting forever. Tamura gave a wry smile at the sight.

“If the two of you have always survived by helping each other, then I guess it’s only natural that Shinobu-kun would be uneasy being apart,” Tamura said. “That aside, Ryousuke-kun, how’s your foot?”

His gaze dropped to Ryousuke’s ankle, which he held suspended, careful not to let it touch the ground.

“It was injured before, and it was finally getting better, but after I hit the same spot again yesterday, the pain’s flared back up… Ah, but if there’s anything I can help with, please let me know. I’ll do anything.”

The words had barely left his mouth when he lost his balance and swayed. Tamura caught him quickly and let out a quiet breath.

"You're pretty skinny," Tamura said. His arm pressed right against the part of Ryousuke’s ribs that stuck out. Ryousuke knew he wasn’t being criticized for his frail body—it was only natural after going so long without eating—but it still embarrassed him.

"I thought Shinobu-kun was thin too, but you're in terrible shape. You must not have been eating at all."

"Yeah..." Ryousuke admitted honestly.

"Well then, why don’t you start cleaning up your place today? I bet the merchandise is all overturned and messy. I don't know how long you’ll be staying there, but it's easier to live in a place that’s at least somewhat clean. Oh—before you head back, let’s stop by Ibuki’s place. He lives in the pharmacy. Let’s see if we can get you a compress or something."

He walked with Tamura’s support, but unlike with Shinobu, their pace didn’t match and it made walking incredibly difficult.

"Ibuki’s a meticulous guy," Tamura said as they walked. "When I put him in charge of the medicine, he read every single prescription in the shop. That’s exactly why I trust him."

Even if they’d had a spat yesterday, Tamura still seemed to get along well with Ibuki. Ryousuke, on the other hand, couldn’t stand how blunt Ibuki was, and how obviously he regarded Ryousuke as an unwelcome burden. Honestly, he didn’t want anything to do with the guy—but he did want the compress, and he couldn’t ignore the kindness Tamura, the only person in this place who’d welcomed them, was showing.

Ibuki was at the pharmacy, which had its own peculiar medicinal smell. He was doing some kind of sorting work near the cash register behind the glass counter. A flashlight hung from the ceiling by a rope, casting a spotlight on him. When Ryousuke and Tamura entered, Ibuki looked up with a grim expression.

"Got any compresses?" Tamura asked.

"Who’s injured?" Ibuki replied gruffly.

"Ryousuke-kun. He hurt his foot, remember?"

Ibuki flicked a glance at Ryousuke, then beckoned Tamura over. "Wait here," Tamura told Ryousuke, then went to join Ibuki. They spoke in hushed tones, and suddenly Tamura’s face turned anxious. He started pacing in front of the register.

"Just go already," Ibuki snapped irritably.

"But I was supposed to take Ryousuke-kun back…"

"I’ll take him. The shoe store is just past your place, right?"

Tamura turned to Ryousuke with an apologetic look. "Something urgent came up. Sorry, but Ibuki will take you back."

The idea of being alone with Ibuki made Ryousuke uneasy. This guy didn’t like him, that much was clear. He braced for rough treatment, and sure enough, as soon as Tamura left and it was just the two of them, a prickly tension settled between them like a static charge. Ibuki said nothing. He just continued sorting things in silence, clearly ignoring Ryousuke and his awkward presence.

"Um… sorry to trouble you, but could you take me back?" Ryousuke asked, trying to sound as respectful as possible.

A long silence followed—so long that he thought he might have been ignored. Then, all of a sudden, Ibuki stopped what he was doing. He stood, walked over, and without warning kicked Ryousuke’s left leg, the good one. Ryousuke lost balance and collapsed onto his hip. The shock of it pierced all the way through to his brain, and even jolted the injured right foot.

"What the hell was that for?!" Ryousuke yelled.

Ibuki gave a sharp snort of laughter through his nose and crouched down in front of him.

"Which foot was the bad one again?"

His harsh attitude contrasted strangely with the gesture, as if he was actually trying to check the injury, and Ryousuke hesitated before answering, "The… the right one. My ankle."

Without warning, Ibuki grabbed Ryousuke’s right ankle. Even as Ryousuke cried out in pain, he twisted it roughly, ignoring his protests.

"GyAAAAAAAH!!"

The intense pain nearly made him lose control of his bladder. He wanted to scream, but the shock from the searing pain stole his voice. His ankle throbbed in time with his pulse, and cold sweat broke across his brow. Fingers grabbed his hair—and before the pain could even register, the back of his head slammed against the wall with a loud crack.

"I’ve been regretting it since yesterday," Ibuki hissed. "If we hadn’t taken that damn path, we never would’ve picked you bastards up."

His voice seethed with hatred. Terrifying… this man was terrifying. Those dead, mechanical eyes looked at him like he was no more than a bug, and Ryousuke's spine trembled. Ibuki pulled a transparent bag from the pocket of his jeans and poured a few purplish pills into his palm.

"Open your mouth."

Not a chance in hell. Ryousuke clenched his molars tight. With a sharp click of his tongue, Ibuki pinched his nose shut. Ryousuke fought desperately to pry his hand away, but Ibuki was so much stronger. When he could no longer breathe and finally gasped for air, the pills were shoved into his open mouth. On instinct, he spat them back toward the face in front of him.

Ibuki froze for just a second. Then his right hand swung hard, striking Ryousuke's cheek with a loud smack. Then came the left. The pain slapped back and forth across his face over and over.

"This life we saved? It’s ours to do with as we please. Just die already. Die. You’re nothing but a nuisance. Maybe you think I’m a cruel bastard, but I’m just saying what most of the people here are thinking. I’m the one voicing what they’re too polite to say. You’re hated. Loathed. Miserable, aren’t you? Then just die."

The violence of his words burned even more than the strikes. Ryousuke could only stare in stunned silence.

"That tall one might still be useful, so I’ll let him off. But you? I’ll be satisfied if just you die. You’re injured, useless, a parasite sucking down what little food we have left. We don’t have the luxury to keep leeches alive."

Ryousuke felt his sense of self shrinking, collapsing under the weight of those words. He wanted to fight back, to deny it—but the words wouldn’t come. Shaking, he wrapped his arms around his head and curled up on the floor.

"Just die. Die already. You're the kind of being that gets weeded out. You were a mistake from the start. You get what I’m saying, don’t you?"

Ibuki’s whisper slithered into his ear. Trembling all over, Ryousuke began to crawl away. If he stayed near this man, his heart would be the first thing to die. Ibuki grabbed him by the collar and dragged him like baggage, then flung him outside the store.

Clack—the door shut behind him.

Ryousuke sat dazed, wondering vaguely if this really was his reality.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

He crawled through the straight stretch of the underground mall. There was no way to get lost, yet it felt like being trapped in a labyrinth. Clenching his teeth to keep from being swallowed by the oppressive darkness, he crept along on all fours like some cornered beast. But the sheer humiliation of it overwhelmed him, and he broke down crying more than once. Shards of broken concrete dug into his palms, and his scraped knees throbbed with pain—every moment of it was unbearable.

He heard voices—several of them echoing faintly. The dimly lit place ahead was where the east–west corridor had collapsed, and where Shinobu, Tamura, and others were supposed to be clearing rubble. No one noticed him crawling along the edge of the path. He was glad for that. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this—so wretched.

When he finally got within a few dozen meters of their house, he noticed a mound of rubble piled up along the wall. Tamura had pointed it out that morning, calling it the well. Inside the rubble, he found a crack about three meters long and, at its widest point, about fifty centimeters across. A wire mesh was stretched over the whole crevice, with a single hole left open at the broadest spot. That must be where they drew the water. Nearby sat what looked like a plastic bucket with a vinyl cord tied to its handle.

The well wasn’t very deep—he heard a plop almost immediately as the bucket hit water. He used the well water to wash his face, then his hands and feet. As he drew up a second bucket, his grip slipped, and the cold water spilled from his chest down to his legs. He stood there, stunned, soaked to the skin, helpless against the cold seeping through his clothes. At this point, it was so awful it almost became funny—he gave a short, bitter laugh. And then, without warning, a tide of emotion surged up from his chest. He couldn’t hold it back. He clenched his teeth and groaned.

“Don’t screw with me!”

He struck the wet ground with both hands. With each hit, muddy water splashed upward. If none of this had ever happened, he would’ve been above Ibuki—absolutely above him. Different backgrounds. Different bloodlines. His family had produced members of Parliament since his great-grandfather’s time; his father was one too. If he’d felt like it, becoming a representative would've been easy. He told himself, over and over, he wasn’t the same as Ibuki.

But the undeniable reality kept flashing through the cracks.

And if he acknowledged it—really accepted it—he knew he wouldn’t be able to save himself anymore.

Still drenched, he returned to the shoe store. His freshly washed limbs were already as dirty as before. He stripped off his wet clothes and crawled under the curtain that served as bedding. …There was nothing else to do. Tamura had told him to tidy up the place, but dragging his injured body around the store was more than he could take. The clock hadn't even reached noon. There was no way he could sleep. His mind was sharp, too sharp—and Ibuki’s words kept circling inside it. A poisonous chant repeating over and over: Die. Die. Again and again.

He found himself wondering—if he’d just died out there in the desert, would he have been spared all of this?

…Those pills that were forced into his mouth—he thought maybe, just maybe, he could swallow them now.

That thought alone was proof he had already fallen prey to Ibuki’s curse.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Shinobu came back just before five in the evening. The door flew open with a loud bang, followed by a clamor of hurried footsteps. Though he called out “I’m home,” Ryousuke didn’t respond, pretending to sleep. He didn’t want to talk.

“Ryou-chan, Ryou-chan…”

With that desperate voice, the curtain Ryousuke had curled up under was yanked away without so much as a warning. Startled, he sprang up in nothing but his underwear.

“What the hell are you doing, Shino—”

His shout was muffled against the sweat-drenched fabric of the boy’s shirt as Shinobu hugged him tightly, so tightly it hurt. They’d only been apart for a few hours, but the way he clung felt absurdly over-the-top.

“You stink, damn it!”

It was overwhelmingly irritating. Ryousuke struck and kicked until Shinobu finally let go. Breathing hard, Ryousuke scratched at the back of his head in frustration. Even so, Shinobu crept forward again, inching closer as if watching for the right moment, and clutched his left ankle. Kicking, swatting, scratching with his nails—nothing got those hands to release him. Eventually, Ryousuke was the one to give up, too exhausted to fight it off.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Ryou-chan…”

Shinobu sobbed, still clinging to his ankle.

“I was so scared… I couldn’t take it. I held out during the day because there were people around, but at night I can’t. I hate being scared. Ryou-chan, stay close. Stay where I can reach you.”

“Your fear doesn’t have anything to do with me!”

Even as Shinobu kept crying, Ryousuke shouted at him until he was hoarse. Eventually, he gave up on yelling, lay down, and pulled the curtain back over himself. He tried to sulk himself to sleep, but his empty stomach kept him awake. He glanced toward his feet. Two loaves of bread-like things had been tossed there carelessly. It must’ve been what Shinobu had brought back for dinner. Sitting up, Ryousuke twisted his body and picked up the bread. Shinobu, still holding his ankle, watched his every move silently.

“Hey, we’re having dinner. Go get some water.”

He gave the order to his tearful, irritating servant. Shinobu didn’t reply. When Ryousuke raised his voice and repeated himself, Shinobu finally responded.

“I don’t want to go out there alone. Let’s go together. I’ll carry you.”

He wouldn’t even go the few dozen meters to the well on his own. That hit Ryousuke’s last nerve. He screamed at Shinobu until his voice grew hoarse. In the end, he threw on Shinobu’s filthy shirt, pulled up his half-dry pants, and got on Shinobu’s back. Kicked, slapped, weeping—Shinobu still went through with whatever he wanted to do. He’d always clung to Ryousuke before, but if Ryousuke pushed him away, he stayed back. He’d been trained. But now that order was starting to crumble, and that only made Ryousuke more irritable. Shinobu’s excessive fear was abnormal, but considering the madness of their situation, it almost seemed forgivable.

After dinner, Ryousuke poured the water they’d brought back into a bucket inside the store to keep as drinking water. He had Shinobu look around for towels, and out of the few they found, he picked the cleanest one, soaked it in the water, and wiped himself down. The cold stung, but he wanted the freshness more than comfort.

“Ryou-chan, you’ve gotten skinny.”

Shinobu muttered this while wiping the parts of his back Ryousuke couldn’t reach.

“Well, it’s a forced diet for now,” Ryousuke replied.

Shinobu laughed. It had been a long time since Ryousuke had heard that laugh. Once he finished wiping himself down, Ryousuke ordered Shinobu to clean himself too. Shinobu said, “I’m fine,” but Ryousuke didn’t allow it. They were finally in a place where they could get clean—he couldn’t stand the idea of staying filthy. Maybe it was from digging through the rubble, but Shinobu was filthy, so much so that even in the dim candlelight the water turned pitch black.

In the glow of the candle, Shinobu’s thin back surfaced faintly. On his shoulder was an old, raised scar.

“That scar on your shoulder still hasn’t faded, huh.”

“Really? I can’t see it myself, so I wouldn’t know.”

It was from the summer vacation in fifth grade, when the two of them had been playing around in an abandoned factory. Shinobu had fallen down the stairs and slashed his shoulder on the edge of some scrap corrugated iron. Ryousuke could still vividly remember how blood had trickled down from Shinobu’s exposed shoulder. He’d been so scared that Shinobu might die from all that bleeding.

“That day was a real mess. You had blood all over your face, and some old guy from the neighborhood saw it and called my dad—”

“Yeah, I remember,” Shinobu said, stretching.

“Your dad was in such a panic, huh? He carried me on his back all the way to the hospital…”

It had been Ryousuke’s father who carried him, not Shinobu’s. But given how Ryousuke’s father treated Shinobu—the son of a mere housekeeper—as if he were family, it wasn’t surprising that Shinobu, a child born out of wedlock, came to adore him enough to call him “Dad.” After a short silence, Shinobu suddenly let out a loud “Ah!” and turned to Ryousuke.

“Sorry, I’m sorry… Ryou-chan…”

Even though Ryousuke hadn’t said a word of reproach, Shinobu kept apologizing over and over for calling his father that.

“It’s not something you need to apologize for that much.”

When Ryousuke said that, Shinobu clamped his mouth shut and lowered his gaze. Ryousuke shrugged and slipped back under the curtain, leaving his left foot out in the open, the one that hadn’t moved all day.

“Ryou-chan, are you going to sleep already?”

Noticing he was getting into bed early, Shinobu crept closer.

“I’m not tired, just bored.”

“Then let’s talk.”

Ryousuke sighed.

“What are we gonna talk about? We see each other every day. Nothing ever changes.”

“Still… I want to talk to you.”

“Just shut up already.”

He closed his eyes under the curtain. Before long, the candlelight vanished, and finally Shinobu’s hand let go. But a moment after, he snuck under the makeshift blanket anyway, pressed up far too close against Ryousuke’s back, and began whispering right by his ear.

“…You know how we were digging out the collapsed path today? There were six of us, and one guy brought a radio he found inside a shop. It was this tiny thing, like the size of your palm. But since we’re underground, there was no signal at all—just static. Everyone laughed at him. Then Tamura-san came by, took one look at it, and said it was broken. He seems to really know his stuff when it comes to machines.”

The chatter, unwanted and unwelcome, was starting to blur into white noise.

“They’re digging through the rubble to look for buried food or something, but when I was helping, all we found was sand and concrete. Then, about an hour in… we found a corpse.”

At the word corpse, Ryousuke flinched.

“It was rotting. The stench was awful. We all helped dig it out and put it into a big plastic bag, then buried it in a dune outside the subway station. Tamura-san told me all the little rocks scattered out there are graves.”

“Enough already!”

Ryousuke turned and shouted at the black silhouette beside him.

“You think I enjoy listening to talk about corpses and graves, you idiot?”

“Then talk to me, Ryou-chan. Either I talk or I listen, or else I’ll fall asleep.”

“Then just go to sleep already.”

He was caught off guard by the sudden cling to his chest. The abruptness sent a chill down his back, like it might be the prelude to some act of violence from Shinobu—but nothing else came of it. It was just a tight hug.

“I might have a dream,” came a muffled voice against his chest.

“A bad dream I can’t wake up from. I’m scared. I’m so scared…”

The trembling in Shinobu’s fingers reached Ryousuke’s skin. He’d always been cowardly. Even as a kid, after watching TV specials about ghosts and the paranormal, he couldn’t go to the bathroom alone at night. Was it the corpse that had scared him so badly?

But Shinobu had said he’d seen multiple corpses back when they were lost in the desert. Was someone like that really this shaken up over one decayed body now? Thinking back, Shinobu had been acting strange all day. He’d clung to Ryousuke obsessively, refused to part from him, and even after coming back, he kept saying “I’m scared” over and over again.

They should’ve both been equally uneasy. From the basement to this subway shelter, warm, with guaranteed food, Ryousuke had felt at least a little bit of relief. Even if the incident with Ibuki was still weighing heavy on his chest, the overwhelming dread and isolation had lifted slightly.

Shinobu was the opposite—he’d become even more unstable since arriving.

“What kind of dream do you keep having?”

Ryousuke found himself a little curious, wondering what exactly was frightening Shinobu this much.

“…A stranger crying,” Shinobu murmured.

It didn’t sound like anything terrifying enough to cause sleepless nights.

“They tell me I’m not supposed to be alive. That I have to die… They say, ‘Die. Die.’”

After a heavy sob, Shinobu began to cry. Clinging to Ryousuke, he whispered “Help me, help me,” again and again.

Ryousuke understood that Shinobu was scared, but he couldn’t comprehend who—or what—this “stranger” was that Shinobu kept personifying.

The repetition of those loathsome words made his stomach churn. And suddenly, it clicked—had Ibuki said something to him?

“Did Ibuki say something to you?”

“Ibuki…?” Shinobu sobbed, blinking through tears.

“Yeah, Ibuki. Did he tell you you’re a nuisance here? That you should die or something?”

There was no answer. Ryousuke took the silence as a confirmation. The anger simmered up again—this twisted method of trying to drive out newcomers was just too much.

“What kind of guy is Ibuki again…?”

The stupid question knocked the wind out of Ryousuke’s anger before it could fully flare.

“Don’t play dumb. He’s the one who found us in the desert—well, I guess you were unconscious then… but this morning, during introductions. You know, the one with glasses, all thin and neurotic-looking. The one with that nasty vibe.”

Shinobu tilted his head, still not seeming to get it.

“I don’t know if it was Ibuki, but on the way back, I passed a glasses guy in front of the pharmacy.”

“That’s him, that’s him!”

Excitement made Ryousuke’s voice rise.

“He called me over and talked a little. But he was smiling. Didn’t seem like a bad guy at all… Oh, that reminds me—he told me there’s a mandatory group meeting tomorrow night. Said we have to go, no matter what.”

Ryousuke tilted his head. That didn’t line up at all. The Ibuki he knew would’ve treated Shinobu the same way he treated him, especially if he was trying to drive them both out. If he hadn’t, that would be strange.

“You’re probably mixing him up with someone else.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Shinobu admitted it readily, so Ryousuke figured that must be the case. Shinobu rubbed his face against him again. The stubbly brush of unshaven skin against Ryousuke’s bare chest tickled unbearably. When he couldn’t take it anymore and pushed Shinobu’s head away, Shinobu only nuzzled in harder.

“Cut it out. Your stubble’s tickling me.”

The sensation of rough stubble faded, replaced by the soft touch of a hand brushing against his cheek. Shinobu’s hand.

“Ryou-chan, you don’t really have any facial hair.”

“It’s light.”

Ryousuke reached out and touched Shinobu’s cheek in return.

“Hey, go ask Tamura-san if he’s got a razor or a toothbrush lying around somewhere. Unshaven stubble’s got no sense of hygiene. I mean, it’s fine now since we can’t see ourselves, but still.”

“Since we can’t see?”

Shinobu echoed the words like playing a game, then pressed his cheek against Ryousuke’s.

“Knock it off.”

As they fooled around, their lips brushed. But since Shinobu didn’t apologize or say anything, Ryousuke figured he hadn’t noticed and left it alone.

“Tamura-san said he was jealous of us.”

“Jealous…?”

“He said it’s nice how close we are.”

“Huh.”

Shinobu hugged him tightly. It was warm, but kind of annoying too. He hadn't changed since they were kids.

“My mom and your dad were childhood friends, you know.”

That was news to him. Ryousuke had always assumed Sae had just come through some staffing agency.

“Huh. That explains it.”

“You knew?”

“No way. I always wondered why Sae never got fired. Now I get it—she was an old acquaintance of my dad’s.”

“Why would she get fired?”

Shinobu asked seriously.

“You know what my dad’s like. Sae was careless and sloppy with everything.”

His father had always been meticulous—never forgot a birthday, not even Shinobu’s, but he was terrifyingly strict about time. And yet, when it came to Sae, he overlooked her oversleeping and tardiness. Ryousuke had always thought, one day, his father would finally have enough and fire her. But that day had never come.

“…Sorry, Ryou-chan.”

Shinobu’s voice sank low.

“What? It’s not like you’re the one I was talking about. I meant Sae.”

“I know, but…”

Watching Shinobu hang his head, Ryousuke was hit with the quiet realization that both Sae and his father were gone. No matter how surreal or dreamlike it seemed, this was their reality now. Outside, nothing but desert.

“I’m really glad I’m with you, Ryou-chan.”

The words were murmured so sincerely, Ryousuke felt the urge to tease him.

“I think you’re a pain in the ass, though.”

As soon as the words slipped out, Ryousuke could feel Shinobu go stiff beside him. Crap. He was going to cry. That’d be too much.

“I’m kidding, don’t take it seriously.”

He reached over and gave Shinobu’s head a gentle pat to soothe him. Shinobu replied with a quiet “Mm,” and nestled close again. Relieved that he hadn’t started crying, Ryousuke quickly drifted off to sleep—unaware that Shinobu remained wide awake, unmoving, until dawn.

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