Chapter 02

Chapter 02

 

SLOWLY, I OPENED MY EYES and breathed in the smell of the chilly tatami. It was now so cold, getting out of bed was a struggle every morning. I lay under my blanket in a daze for a while, then summoned my resolve and leapt out to confront the winter chill. In the process, I accidentally kicked Penguin No. 2 and sent him rolling across the floor, still sound asleep. Shivering, I switched on the TV to get the weather forecast: sunny all day, allegedly. While I was at it, I went ahead and shook Kanba’s shoulders while he lay in the futon next to mine, but I knew it wouldn’t be enough to actually wake him.

Alone, I stepped into the chilly kitchen. Then, before I started making breakfast, I reached into the cupboard under the gas range and pulled out our parents’ bowls and chopsticks, all wrapped up in newspaper like precious treasures…or revolting eyesores, take your pick. Careful not to make a sound, I lined them up beside the sink: two pairs of dark brown chopsticks of differing lengths, and two big, round bowls painted pale green on the outside and white on the inside, with a lotus flower sketched in gold at the bottom of each one. Frankly, it was terrifying just how nostalgic the sight of them made me feel.

As I crumpled up the old, yellowing newspaper, I took a deep breath. Then I grabbed the bowls and chopsticks and dropped them into the trash can. As the lid closed after them, I heard a dull thud as they hit the bottom—not quite enough for them to break.

Later, as the three of us set the table, I found myself glancing back at the trash can again and again. It felt like the bowls were quietly watching over us. But I didn’t regret a thing…or so I continued to tell myself.

“Breakfast time!”

We all pressed our hands together to say grace. Then Kanba and I reached out to take the slightly burnt rolled omelets for ourselves. Himari watched us intently.

“How does it taste?”

“Pretty good!” Kanba grinned. He was already wearing his uniform, which was a bit unusual, and he looked like he was feeling refreshed.

“Yeah, it’s good,” I chimed in.

“Really? What a relief!” Himari exclaimed. Then she took a piece for herself and popped it into her mouth.

For some reason the two of them woke up early this morning and invaded my kitchen to make rolled omelets and pickled veggies. On my left, Kanba chopped up all the lettuce and eggplants we left in the fridge, while on my right, a sleepy-looking Himari whisked her eggs, wearing a robe over her nightgown. Sandwiched between them, I suppressed my restlessness and tried to focus on making the miso soup. Something told me none of us got a full night’s sleep last night.

Yesterday, after we warmed Himari up in the bath, we put her to bed. Then, instead of stew, I made her favorite rice and veggie soup, lightly seasoned, with a beaten egg mixed in at the end. Back in the living room, the rain blew in onto the clean laundry. As for Kanba and myself, neither of us really knew what to say to each other, so we just talked about whatever immediately came to mind.

Stuff like, “Sucks about the laundry.”

Stuff like, “I forget—do we have homework due tomorrow?”

By the end, we started debating why exactly Yamashita failed to get a girlfriend. But it never stopped feeling uncomfortable, and we ended up going to bed a lot earlier than usual. Lying there under my blanket in the darkened living room, I sighed so hard, it made my throat sting. Everything will be back to normal in the morning, I told myself over and over as I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Himari, how’d you get so good at cooking all of a sudden?” Kanba asked, his appetite as voracious as ever.

“I practiced in my head while I was in the hospital,” Himari explained proudly.

“Your imagination helped you learn how to cook?!” Mine wasn’t especially creative, so I couldn’t picture myself having the same results.

“Dude, don’t get jealous just because hers are better than yours.”

“I’m not jealous!” I pouted. Then I shot Himari a look. She was smiling and sharing her rolled omelets with the penguins.

“Now try some of these pickled veggies. Made ’em myself.”

“All you did was put them in a Ziploc and squeeze them…”

That said, they certainly looked how they were supposed to, at the very least.

“There’s a trick to how you gotta squeeze ’em. It’s my special technique.” He wiggled his fingers suggestively.

“What are you pretending to squeeze? Because it sure doesn’t look like pickles! Quit being a perv first thing in the morning!” I shouted, leaning across the table to glare at him.

“What are you talking about? What’s perverted about it?” he shot back, unwavering.

Giggling, Himari took a sip of her soup. “Mmmm… Sho-chan, your miso soup tastes just like Mom’s.”

She didn’t mean any harm by it, but we both fell silent. Sensing that something was amiss, she slowly set her bowl back on the table and stared at the floor.

Despite everything Natsume Masako said, we were a family. But Himari was acting strangely last night—that much was undeniable. I could remember the feeling of her cold, wet fingers brushing my cheek…her damp eyes gazing at me with warm affection…and we all knew what meaning lay behind it. The bright red Reminder Bullet never struck her, and yet somehow she remembered that our familial bond was as fragile as a sweet French meringue.

Nevertheless, I decided that we were still a family in spite of that. I decided to stop pretending not to notice the anger and resentment I felt toward my parents.

“Stop it, Himari,” I told her in a small voice. “The Takakura family doesn’t have a mom.”

She looked up, seemingly with half a mind to say something, but no words left her faintly parted lips.

“He’s right,” Kanba muttered in a low voice.

Himari looked hurt for a moment, but regardless, I didn’t amend my statement. This was the one thing I couldn’t deny any longer. I couldn’t forgive my parents, and I couldn’t keep defending them, either.

“How are you feeling today, Himari? Any fever?” I asked calmly.

“No, I’m okay. I checked,” she answered in a tiny voice.

“You have a doctor’s appointment today, right? Be safe,” I continued. Anything to keep the conversation going.

“I will.”

I was hoping Kanba would make some kind of joke to lighten the mood, but was ultimately left disappointed. And so we ate the rest of our breakfast in silence, the only sound that of clinking silverware. Over time, I started to think maybe I messed up.

Feeling guilty and miserable, I left the house along with Kanba. But as far as I knew, I didn’t say anything wrong…did I?

 

After a routine medical examination, Himari sat across the desk from Sanetoshi in his exam room, staring blankly at the CT scan of her own body. She didn’t know much about anatomy, but she could see all of her body fat, muscles, and internal organs—the things keeping her alive and moving on a daily basis.

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Sanetoshi asked, noticing the direction of her gaze and smiling faintly. Her expression was so serious, one would think she was trying to search her soul through the X-ray images. “Now, allow me to tell you a love story.”

The chair creaked as he rose to his feet. Then he pulled down all the images from the film viewer.

“You take one step forward, he takes one step back. You take one step back, he takes one step forward. It was all going so well, but then one day he became distant, and now he’s gone. So, what would you do in that situation?”

Stunned by the sudden question, Himari paused just long enough to take a breath.

“If it were me, I wouldn’t chase him,” she answered.

She was wearing a white angora sweater and a white knee-length gathered skirt over thick wine-colored wool leggings and her usual cowgirl boots.

“Why not?”

Sanetoshi stood in the middle of the large clock projected on the wall. Here in the dimly lit exam room, his lab coat and starched button-down were tinged sky-blue. His charcoal gray pants and black shoes blended in with the shadows, while his cosmic eyes and long, pale rainbow hair seemed to glow by contrast.

“It seems like it’d be exhausting.”

“Sure, that’s a perfectly valid opinion to have. So you’re saying you only want to be chased, never the other way around.” He smiled, raising his eyebrows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She tilted her head slightly as she looked at him. His eyes were speckled with stars, but no amount of gazing into them helped her get a read on him.

“Well, if neither of you chases the other, you’re essentially telling each other that you refuse to make the first move.”

“What’s so bad about that?” Himari asked, staring at the floor.

“No romance will ever come of it,” Sanetoshi declared offhandedly.

“So what? I don’t need romance,” she shot back flatly. But as soon as the words left her lips, terror set in. It felt like she could hear love slowly infecting her heart like a virus.

From Himari’s point of view, it would be far too greedy to try to fall in love with someone when she was so deeply lacking as a person. That greed, in turn, would cause problems for Kanba and Shoma. She already required a ton of support, and a tremendous amount of sacrifice, just to make it through each day; she couldn’t possibly ask for more. Thus, she had given up on romance…but she still spent every day pining.

“I see.” Sanetoshi quietly returned to his chair and crossed his legs. “So you reject romance.”

The room fell silent. Himari snuck a glance at him, then hesitantly began to speak.

“Hypothetically speaking…”

I’m just curious, that’s all, she reassured herself.

“Yes?”

“If the other person starts to pull away from me, am I supposed to chase them? And that’s how romance starts?”

“Sometimes, yes,” he answered slowly.

“Are you sure? Because if they’re just going to keep running away the whole time, I can’t imagine my efforts would…bear fruit.”

She couldn’t explain why, but she got the sense that those who ran would simply keep running forever. There was really no point in chasing them—they would fade into the distance until eventually they vanished from sight altogether. And if no amount of chasing would bring them back, then that energy was better off conserved. Both sides of this hypothetical romance were better off staying right where they were and keeping their “fruit” to themselves.

“A keen observation. Yes, the one who runs will never give anything to the one who chases. They don’t want the game to be too easy, after all. They want you to keep chasing,” Sanetoshi smirked.

“That’s not very nice.”

Was romance really just a game? Himari didn’t think so at all, but at the same time, she had never consciously experienced it for herself, so she didn’t have any ground to stand on in this debate. After all, she was only now starting to recognize that sort of love.

“When it comes down to it, you want the fruit. It’s not enough just to kiss them, right?” The chair creaked as he rose to his feet. Then he leaned right into Himari’s face, peering into her big, round eyes from above.

“Well, I only have so many kisses to give. So if there’s no fruit behind it, I’m going to end up empty,” she sighed. Her gaze was firm as she stared back at him, but her voice was several degrees more feeble.

“Is there something wrong with being empty?” he whispered, leaning closer. His glowing hair tickled her pale cheek.

“When something’s empty, it gets thrown away,” she explained, looking up at him.

“So what if you get thrown away? You can strike back with a hundred more kisses.”

Slowly, his lips drew close to hers.

“No, I can’t. If I get thrown away, my heart will turn to ice, and I’ll suffocate,” she replied unflinchingly.

“Then just be careful not to kiss quite that much,” Sanetoshi grinned, enjoying her defiant stubbornness.

“That’s cheating.” Himari’s long lashes trembled, sparkling like they were damp.

“Nothing wrong with cheating if it means you can kiss.”

He straightened up, running a hand through his hair. Meanwhile, she stared at the floor in contemplation. As he gazed at her, he rubbed his thumb over his lower lip. Personally, he didn’t care one whit about kissing, or whether it counted as cheating. All that mattered to him was acquiring that fruit, regardless of the means.

“If you’re going to turn to ice either way, you might as well do something to deserve it, don’t you think? It’d be far more fun to be punished for an avalanche of kisses.”

This was another source of energy for him: whether or not something was fun.

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

“In summary, follow your heart. I should think kissing itself is its own kind of fruit.”

“But then why…?” Why were humans programmed to fall in love? If it was only about kissing, then no one would ever get their heart broken.

Himari thought about last night—about what she remembered and the truth therein. In that memory, she accepted an apple; was that the fruit of romance? Was that the source of the pain she felt in her chest?

There was a voice in her head, telling her Shoma was her soul mate. If what she felt was in fact true love, then chasing it would only bring pain to her and everyone around her. Their family would surely split apart, and chances were good it would spark a domino effect of other, more unpleasant memories rising to the forefront of her mind. If so, she would regret ever falling in love. In fact, she might even feel guilty for remembering who her soul mate truly was.

“Dr. Sanetoshi, why did you want to talk to me about love? Are you in love?”

He smiled softly. “Why, yes. And it makes every moment simply stunning.”

Sanetoshi couldn’t afford to let his guard down for even an instant. After all, his sneaky little lover, Momoka, was surely watching this unfold just as he was—watching this young girl stare down at her hands with the countenance of a grown woman. And Sanetoshi was planning to keep showering his lover in a hailstorm of kisses without ever turning to ice. But his kisses weren’t guaranteed to be soft and sweet. At times they could sizzle and burn with the intensity of a raging fire.

 

At the dumpsters out behind the school building, a handful of students, including me and Yamashita, were tasked with sorting the trash into two large bags: burnable and nonburnable.

“Burnable…nonburnable…burnable…nonburnable… Wait, what about this one? Uhhh…I guess it’s nonburnable,” Yamashita sighed lazily as he used his trash-picking tongs to toss an empty can into the bag. “Ugh, this sucks… Punished with chores? What are we, five?”

I was so distracted thinking about my family situation, I was practically sorting on autopilot. Frankly, it was highly inefficient to make us sort the trash after lumping it all together to begin with. With a building of this size, they should have known just how much waste was produced on a daily basis. They’d save a ton of time if they set up two different trash cans in each location and taught the students to sort their trash into the correct can. Heck, even our house had two different trash cans for that reason. But I couldn’t actually point this out or else everyone would call me a househusband.

“We were just minding our business, but because we happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, it turned into some crap about ‘collective responsibility’ or whatever. Why should we have to be punished? It’s their fault! So stupid. One bad apple spoils the rest of us, I tell ya,” Yamashita complained quietly into my ear. Then he paused to crack his neck.

He had a point, though. Kanba and Himari and I had nothing to do with our parents’ crimes, so it was completely unfair for any of us to have to pay the price for it. We never chose to be related to them, but as a result, we were forced to carry the burden of responsibility for the rest of our lives.

“Oh yeah, that reminds me, Shoma-kun…” Yamashita donned a sinister smirk. “How’d it go with that one girl?”

“What one girl?” I shot him a withering look.

“The cute one! From the onsen! She seemed kinda touchy, but I could go for that.”

“Things are…normal, I guess?” I told him, though I didn’t actually know what normal looked like.

“What do you mean, normal? Don’t tell me you’re already an item!” he gasped, recoiling melodramatically.

“Wh-what? No! We’re not an item!”

Oginome-san was a good friend, but the subject had never come up. Granted, I was done shutting her out of my life, but merely changing my perspective was not enough to change the past. It didn’t solve everything.

“Man…I’d love to date a chick from Oukagyoen…”

“I’m telling you, we’re not dating! Maybe you’d actually get a girlfriend if you stopped making assumptions all the time!”

I started working faster, but I was in no real rush to leave campus. Although I knew for a fact that Kanba and Himari would both come home in due time, I was terrified at the thought of spending a single minute sitting alone in that empty house, waiting for them. But of course, the task at hand eventually came to an end. Naturally, Yamashita was totally jealous that I finished ahead of him. After I managed to calm him down, I slung my book bag over my shoulder, tied my blue-and-beige tartan scarf around my neck, and trudged off in the direction of the school gates.

For some reason, my brain recalled the conversation I had with Kanba about why Yamashita could never get a girlfriend. Annoying, no filter, unfunny… Honestly, the latter two were basically the same thing as annoying…

“Shoma-kun!” Oginome-san called, leaning against the wall just outside the gates, wearing a light school-issued jacket. I forced a smile.

“Oh, hey, Oginome-san. Were you waiting for me? You could have sent me an email, you know.”

“I just showed up on a whim, that’s all. Glad I could see you,” she replied, looking into my eyes and smiling—a pure, genuine smile that caught me by surprise. She saw my expression shift. “What’s wrong?” she asked, frowning slightly.

I looked into her big, round eyes, and for the first time in my life, I felt a strong urge to talk about myself. I wanted her to understand me.

 

Oginome-san never once tried to force anything out of me. As our bodies swayed with the train’s motions, I gazed out at the darkness beyond the window and thought back to that dream I once had about an endless dark railroad and a train that never stopped—or rather, couldn’t stop. Not yet.

“The punishment was meant for me,” I explained slowly. “If the Takakura family deserves punishment, then it should be dealt to me alone.”

“What do you mean?” Furrowing her brow, Oginome-san looked at me in concern.

“I’ll never forgive my parents. Their actions killed countless people, and your sister was one of their…”

Victims. But I couldn’t bring myself to say the word. Faltering, I looked down at my feet, where Penguin No. 2 sat, looking back at me.

“It’s not your fault, Shoma-kun,” she told me gently. Slowly, I shook my head.

“The crimes of the Takakura family are my crimes and no one else’s.”

“Why do you say that?”

I broke eye contact with No. 2.

“I chose Himari to be part of my family. I made her a Takakura. I dragged her into this mess.”

I had tried my hardest to forget this truth, and in fact, it felt like I had succeeded. I had erased the memory from my past.

As I recounted my story, Oginome-san looked at me and listened in perfect silence.

 

Eight winters ago, I was sitting in a room in a high-rise condo building—the office where my father worked. Reason being, my parents were both very busy, so they couldn’t leave me at home or else I’d be on my own for hours and hours. Thus, my father always brought me here to the office. But even then, I was still on my own.

They called it “the office,” but looking back, it was just a room in a condo that my parents’ organization designated as their headquarters. My father stood in the center of a big group of grown-ups, all of them wearing the same work uniform, and as he gave his long speeches reminiscent of a school assembly, I sat there watching, bored to tears.

“On that day, a tiny fragment of this corrupted world was purified by our holy fire. But our mission has not yet been achieved. Society calls us criminals, and on that day, many of our comrades were unjustly taken prisoner. But that is not enough to extinguish the flames of the torch we carry in our hearts. Now is the time to lie low; the name change was necessary just to shake off those fascist pigs. Instead, we must solemnly prepare for the next Day of Reckoning. Peace!”

My father held his hand up high in a peace sign, and his audience followed suit. It was a popular gesture here at my father’s workplace, but I wasn’t sure what exactly it meant. All I knew was that it looked like “scissors” from rock-paper-scissors. Or was it like “V for Victory”?

Here at the office, I would occasionally meet other kids around the same age as me. There were two siblings—a boy and a girl, both with narrow eyes and fancy clothes, who were much better behaved than I was. They always paid attention to the speeches.

As I retrieved my down jacket from the chair in the corner and wrapped myself up in my scarf, the girl called out to me: “You there! Where are you going?”

Her hair was curly, and her voice carried very well.

“Aren’t you going to listen to the speeches?!” she continued in an accusatory tone, after I failed to answer her first question.

“He’s probably bored,” her brother shrugged, tossing a bright red apple back and forth between his hands.

“But the next speech is even more important! Our father will be speaking!” the girl protested. Her brother, however, merely shot me a glance without saying anything.

I didn’t say a word to him, either. Instead, I stepped into my sneakers, opened the door, and dashed out of the office. The sharp chill made me flinch.

Truth be told, I was sick to death of sitting around while my father did his work. I tucked one of the apples from the office into my jacket pocket, but I didn’t particularly like apples to begin with. I scanned the quiet building’s square-shaped hallway, then started walking. A few steps later, I pulled the apple out of my pocket. In this foggy white world, it gleamed like a ruby.

Leaning against the railing, I rolled the apple around on my palm as I peered down into the courtyard, square-shaped and covered in dead grass. Up above, I could see an equally square-shaped piece of the winter sky. And on the floor below mine, I could see a small figure crouched in one corner.

Pushing the apple back into my pocket, I casually descended the staircase, hoping I found someone I could play with. But when I got a good look at the girl sitting against the railing, I started to have second thoughts. She had long hair, and despite the weather, she was only wearing a wool jersey dress and a pair of plain boat shoes with no socks. Both the dress and the shoes were grimy with dirt, and the girl in question seemed like she was in a daze. In one hand, she clutched the paw of a large peach-pink teddy bear.

“Hey, do you live here?”

I didn’t strike up a conversation purely out of boredom; no, I was a tiny bit worried about her, too. She looked at me with big, round eyes, her gaze tinged with suspicion.

“What are you up to?”

At the very least, she didn’t look like she was having fun playing by herself. If she was lost, I figured I could get my father to help.

“…I’m waiting for Mama,” she muttered after a long moment.

“How long have you been waiting?” Maybe she really was lost.

“The whole time,” she said in a monotone voice.

“And how long is that?”

Minutes? Hours? Based on her dirty clothes, I suspected it was more like days or weeks. The thought frightened me a bit.

“I don’t know.” She blinked at me in confusion.

“Wanna play?”

She shook her head. “I have to wait for Mama.” But she clearly looked miserable.

“Aren’t you cold?”

Even in my down jacket, I could feel the stinging chill against my cheeks and through the gaps in my pants. She fell silent and stared at the ground, exhaling white fog. Of course she was cold. So I took off my bright blue-and-yellow striped scarf, crouched down, and wrapped it around her neck instead. “You can borrow this.”

The girl looked at me in shock. She didn’t say a word, but she reached up and touched the fabric of the scarf, her eyes as round as saucers.

“Want my apple?” I sat down next to her and pulled the fruit out of my pocket.

“No. Mama said not to take food from strangers.”

Admittedly I, too, was taught not to take things from strangers or go places with them, but I was pretty sure those rules only applied to grown-up strangers. Looking back, I could see how kid-me wouldn’t have been too worried about other kids…but at the same time, strangers were still strangers, regardless of age.

“Say, do you know the story of the first man and woman on Earth?” I asked, unable to bear the continued silence.

“Nope,” she answered indifferently.

I only recently learned this story myself. “They say they shared the fruit of fate.”

“In my life, there’s no such thing as fruit.”

As she spoke, she rose to her feet, pulled off the scarf, and thrust it back at me. Then she pulled her teddy bear into her arms and took off like a gust of wind, her long hair trailing behind her as she ran. As for me, I stood there, the wrapped-up scarf in one hand and the apple in the other, alone and bored once again.

 

The next time I came to the condo building, I snuck two chocolate treats into the pocket of my down jacket. This time I was purposely going to search for the girl.

“What are you up to?”

I found her in the basement, curled up next to the trash dump reserved for tenants. She was wearing the exact same clothes as last time, and she looked like she was freezing.

“I found a cat,” she said in a tiny voice, looking at me in alarm.

“Is it yours?” I asked, walking over to her. The girl shook her head.

She was huddled over a small box. Inside, a tiny tabby kitten shivered helplessly.

“What’s it doing here?”

“Nobody wanted it,” she replied in a scarcely audible voice.

“But it’s so cute! C’mere, kitty.” I crouched down and offered it my hand. It recoiled in fear and scurried away to the far corner of the box.

“I bet it was loved at first. But then it used up all its loveable-ness and got thrown away,” the girl explained. Startled, I looked at her face in profile…but her long hair concealed everything except her eyelashes and the tip of her nose.

“Oh, I know. Want me to go get some milk?” I asked. I was trying to help the kitten—or at least, that was my intention.

“Stop. You can’t keep it, right?”

“Well…no…” I was ashamed of myself for even thinking of such a childish, irresponsible suggestion.

“If you aren’t chosen, then you’re discarded and left to die.” She was so quiet and still, I couldn’t tell whether she was sad or not.

Unloved, discarded, left behind to die. She said she was waiting for her mother, but what did she really mean by that? Was she truly “waiting for her mother” all alone in a condo building, with only a dirty dress to her name?

“Well, it’s not dead yet,” I muttered.

Once again, she looked at me in surprise. She also seemed a tiny bit angry. But though the kitten could have evaded her detection if it really wanted to, it instead revealed itself to her. And now here it was, living and breathing right in front of us.

Using a cardboard box and some towels I found in the trash, I built a new house for the kitten out behind the building—one with a roof and everything. In place of a bed, I rolled up my scarf like a little nest. Timidly, the kitten wandered in and curled up into a little ball. Then I brought some of the milk from the office fridge on a saucer, which the girl and I presented to the kitten.

“Can it drink cow’s milk?” she asked anxiously.

“It’s gotta be really hungry,” I replied as I set the saucer in front of the box.

Together, we crouched down and peered at the kitten. Cautiously, it approached the saucer, gave it a sniff, then started lapping at the milk with its little tongue.

“It’s drinking it!”

“Let’s look after it until we can find it a new owner. I promise, I’ll ask around.”

Neither of us could keep the kitten, but I refused to abandon it. So the only option left was to find someone who could take over for us. That way it wouldn’t be cruel to prolong its life.

“Okay.”

Then, for the first time, the girl’s expression softened a tiny bit. It warmed my heart.

As we ate the chocolate treats I’d pulled from my pocket, we watched over the now-satiated kitten as it toddled back to the stripey scarf to take a nap.

“It’s so cute,” I commented. The girl nodded quietly. And as the chocolate melted on her tongue, her lips curled into a tiny smile.

 

From then on, I would make regular visits to the condo building to see the girl and the cat, smuggling snacks in my pockets each time. Playing with them was the highlight of my day. Neither of us knew how to handle a cat, so we couldn’t pet it much at first, but gradually it began to trust us, and eventually we were graciously allowed to run our hands down its back.

“It’s so soft.” The girl never talked much, but over time her face became more and more expressive. “Kittens are really warm, huh?”

“Hey, guess what? I brought some ribbons we can tie around its neck. Just some stuff I found at home.”

In the kitchen drawer, I discovered some old ribbons that were once used to wrap parcels, so I stuffed a few into my pocket. One of them was wine red with gold lettering, originally from a bakery box. There were also pink and blue ones from past birthday and Christmas gifts.

“They’re pretty,” the girl murmured quietly, entranced.

“Which one is the best?”

I lined them up for her to see. She didn’t answer, but her eyes were fixed on the pink ribbon—a thin and glossy one.

“Do you like pink?”

She nodded slightly.

With the pink ribbon newly tied around its neck, the kitten seemed annoyed at first, but slowly adapted to it. Then I introduced it to the canned food I bought, and before long, it would trot over to us the moment we arrived, purring up a storm.

“I hope we can find someone who can give it a home,” the girl muttered, gently cradling the small, warm kitten. Compared to when I first met her, she slowly started to change into a different girl—a sweet, caring girl with an adorable smile and a passion for all things cute. Her complexion looked pale, exacerbated by her dark dress plus the winter air, but her big, round eyes gleamed like precious gems.

“I’ve been asking around at school, but I haven’t found anyone yet,” I admitted, feeling guilty.

“Oh…”

The girl was definitely younger than me, but there were times that she seemed abnormally calm, or maybe detached, like she’d given up on the whole world. Most likely it had something to do with her mother, who never seemed to show up. But I was just a kid—I couldn’t pry about her home life. It would be no different from feeding a cat I couldn’t keep. After all, a thoughtless, powerless child couldn’t possibly be of any help. I was just a nobody.

Our little cardboard house was located right behind the condo building. This was the best spot we could think of to keep it hidden. We didn’t care if we got dirty—we would flop down and put our heads in the box, letting the kitten sniff at our faces and curl up on our chests.

“What should we name it?”

Randomly, it occurred to me that we only ever referred to it as “Meow meow” or “Pss pss pss” or “Kitty.” Even if we were only fostering it temporarily, it still deserved a temporary nickname.

“You want to name it?” The girl contemplated this as she played with the kitten using the green foxtail I’d plucked from the ground. Then she set the toy down and gently scooped up the feisty little kitten. “Well, it’s warm like the sun, and it smells like sunshine.” She nuzzled her face against its fur.

Then, at last, I managed to ask the critical question: “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Himari. It means sunny spot,” she explained with a bashful smile.

“Wow, that’s a pretty name. Okay then, let’s give the kitten a matching nickname! How about Sunshine? Hmm…maybe not…” I grimaced at my own lack of naming sense.

“San-chan.”

Her voice was so quiet, I nearly missed it.

“San-chan? Oh, I get it. Sun, the English word. Yeah, I like it!”

As I spoke, I reached out and stroked San-chan’s little head as Himari cradled it in her arms. It closed its eyes contentedly.

Himari looked up at me and beamed, blushing. Then she looked down at the kitten nodding off to sleep against her chest and whispered, “San-chan…”

 

It was a day like any other. Once again, Himari and I traveled to the condo building to see San-chan. The snow that fell that morning gave the old, familiar city a fresh coat of white paint, absorbing all noise as it piled up.

Had Himari caught the flu? Was she still waiting outside for her mother, even when it was snowing? Sure, maybe I couldn’t help her family situation, but she was always so pale and thin and cold… Honestly, I worried about her more than I worried about the cat. But something told me that if I pried for details, I would never see her again.

I was just a kid.

In the corner of the square-shaped hallway, Himari sat clinging to the railing.

“Himari-chan!”

She was looking up at the sky, probably watching the snow fall. Then she whirled around excitedly, still wearing the same dingy dress. Together, we walked to San-chan’s house, just like always.

A small amount of snow had piled on the roof of the cardboard box, and the scarf nest was empty—no sign of the kitten. We searched around as best we could, but failed to find San-chan.

“Everything’s all wet,” Himari frowned, touching the scarf.

“Maybe it tried to find someplace warmer.”

The first place we thought of was the trash dump area in the basement of the building where Himari first found San-chan. There were plenty of places to hide there, and it was bound to be a little warmer indoors… We exchanged a glance, then headed to the basement. But when we arrived, the garbage collection truck was already revving up its engine.

“No!”

San-chan’s tiny box disappeared behind the rotating plate. The trash dump area was now completely empty. Meanwhile, I thought back to what I learned in school about garbage collection. When you pressed the switch, the rotating plate compressed the trash deep into the truck. Then it was taken to a waste incineration plant…

“Wait!”

Hastily, I ran after the truck. It drove out onto the snowy street and sped away.

“WAIT!”

Breathing in the icy air made my chest sting. As I ran at full speed, the falling snow flew into my face, melting into cold water. Wiping the snow from my eyelashes with one hand, I kept on running. Here in the silent city, all I could hear was the rumble of the truck’s engine and my own labored breathing.

Then, eventually, the truck disappeared into the white, foggy distance. Coughing and wheezing, I doubled over, clutching my knees as I tried to catch my breath. At my feet, the garbage truck left behind a long trail of dark tire tracks.

When I returned to the condo building, I found Himari standing by the entrance to the basement parking lot, staring at the ground.

“I’m sorry.”

Tears filled my eyes. I was the one who suggested we look after the cat in the first place, and I was the one who failed to find a forever home for it. Maybe I didn’t try hard enough. Maybe part of me just wanted to keep raising it with Himari.

“It’s not your fault, Sho-chan,” she said quietly. It was freezing cold, and yet she seemingly forgot to shiver. “San-chan just wasn’t chosen.”

“Huh?”

When she looked up at me, the expression on her face reminded me of the day we first met—neither happy nor sad. And yet, nevertheless, she was crying. I wanted to reassure her…to tell her not to cry…but I couldn’t. In the end, we failed to save San-chan.

“In this world, either you’re chosen or you’re not. And if you’re left behind, you die,” Himari explained in a hoarse, watery voice that left her lips in a white fog.

And after that day, I never saw Himari at the condo building again.

I searched the whole place from top to bottom. After all, it was possible the kitten was still around, just hiding somewhere, or maybe someone adopted it. And there was something I wanted to tell Himari, even if it was really only a pathetic platitude: No matter what happened to San-chan in the end, I don’t regret taking care of it with you. Saying goodbye hurts, but that doesn’t mean it was all a waste of time.

Unfortunately, Himari was nowhere to be found. Alone, I decided to go ahead and bring the cardboard house back to the trash dump. But when I peered inside, I found a little white piece of paper folded up in the towels. I opened it to find a letter from Himari addressed to me.

“Hey, Dad? What’s the ‘Child Broiler’?” I asked my father as he gazed out at the snowy scenery through the office window. He looked over his shoulder at me in alarm. “Well?” I pressed.

“It’s a place where children are sent when they’re forsaken by society. We can’t do anything about it, and we can’t save them. It’s a rusty, closed-off place,” my father explained in a low, quiet, yet somewhat pained voice.

“What happens to the kids who go there?”

“They become invisible.”

“What do you mean?”

“They never amount to anything.”

Based on his tone and expression, I could tell that he was dancing around the crux of the issue. Probably because I was just a kid.

“So they die?” In my pocket, I squeezed the letter from Himari. “How come?”

My father shifted his gaze back to the window. “Right this moment, there are countless children turning invisible as we speak, and this corrupted world continues to turn a blind eye to it. That is why we must purify the world and eradicate all corruption.”

But I wasn’t listening. The next thing I knew, I broke into a run.

Himari’s letter was poorly written and rife with spelling errors, and part of it was wet from melted snow. But to me, those wet spots looked like tears.

 

Dear Sho-chan,

Goodbye, and thank you for everything. I’m going to the Child Broiler.

It really meant a lot to me the first time you reached out to me. My mama never came back for me, so I decided to wait for you instead. Waiting for you was a lot easier, and I was never lonely.

I liked being a family with you and San-chan, so I’m going to take your scarf as a memento. No matter what happens, I’ll never forget you. Our memories together are a precious treasure to me. That’s why I’m not scared anymore. Even if I turn invisible, nobody can erase my memories, not even if I burn up in the fireplace like a tin soldier. I’m just happy there’s someone in the world who knows I existed.

The truth is, I do know the story of the first man and woman who lived on Earth. They were punished, and being alive was the punishment. But I was willing to be punished if it meant I could stay with you, Sho-chan. That’s why I wanted someone to choose me.

 

I didn’t know what the Child Broiler was, or where it was located, or how big of a deal it was to go there. It didn’t feel like a real place to me. But Himari was going there, and she was going to disappear without ever amounting to anything. I would never see her again.

I couldn’t really picture someone I knew dying. I wouldn’t be able to talk to her anymore, and I’d only just gotten her to smile, but now I’d never see her face again, either. Her long hair and pale skin would disappear, and the image of her shivering in the cold would be lost to the world around me, and the thought was painful.

As I ran through the darkness, snow slid into my sneakers and turned my socks into a sloshy mess. My legs were both frozen to the core, and as I ran, the chill turned to pain until eventually I went numb altogether. They were like two columns of ice, carrying me forward as fast as I could go to a destination I hadn’t yet specified.

Himari thought of me as her family, and I wanted to save her. I didn’t care about the “corruption of the world.” I was just desperate to get her back.

Together, the two of us shared many things—the sweet taste of candy, the chill of snow, the thrill of snowball fights, the pain of losing San-chan—but there were still many more ahead. I didn’t treat her like family so she would give up on living; I wanted her to realize that there were people in the world who cared about her and wanted to help. And I was going to make her see that—for her own sake, for San-chan’s, and for mine.

With my legs bogged down in the snow, I felt as though I was gliding along with the winter wind. In that moment, I was sure I would find Himari, no matter where she went. That was what I decided the moment I grabbed the door handle there in the middle of the blizzard. I was going to choose Himari—I needed to.

I couldn’t really tell what color or shape or size the door was, and it felt like the handle might fly off in the wind if I didn’t hold on tight. But with all my strength, I forced it open little by little, making it creak in protest. Inside, I could hear the whirr of a large, active machine.

“Himari-chan!”

It was a vast, empty space, and somehow it felt even colder inside. There was no wind, and yet the air seemed to sting my face. I could see some big, rusty fans spinning their blades, and a large group of children sat on the ground, packed in tightly, all of them with their knees tucked up to their chins.

“Himari-chan, where are you?!”

Without hesitation, I ran inside. The ice-cold air engulfed me, and as I shouted for Himari, every subsequent breath I took made me wheeze. Chunks of ice fell from the endlessly tall ceiling, impeding my path. None of the kids seemed to care that I was looking for someone; they all stared blankly at the ground. None of them looked especially cold, either—just depressed and defeated.

I snaked my way through the crowd, searching for Himari. The ice rained on me mercilessly, slashing at my face, my hands—any inch of exposed skin. Meanwhile, the temperature continued to plummet. At this rate, my whole body would freeze solid.

“Himari-chan!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a familiar blue-and-yellow striped scarf, standing out in sharp relief against the monochrome like the beacon of a lighthouse. As I ran toward it, the dark floor moved like a conveyor belt, carrying Himari away as she lay down with her eyes closed, clasping her hands at her chest.

“Wait!” I ran up and touched her pale cheek. She was startlingly cold. “Himari-chan! Himari!”

Again and again, I called her name, pressing both palms to her cheeks to keep her warm. And when I saw my scarf wrapped tightly around her neck, I fought back tears.

“Himari, it’s me. Let’s go home.”

I huddled over her, shielding her face from the falling ice chunks. As I kept calling for her and blocking the ice with my body, her frozen face regained a tiny bit of its color. When I touched her ashen forehead, I found it faintly warm. All at once, the harsh blizzard seemed to melt into peaceful silence.

“Himari.”

Her long lashes fluttered, and she slowly opened her big, round eyes.

“Aah…”

Her cry was high-pitched and wispy, like a baby bird’s. As she stared at me in a daze, I sat back and smiled at her. Then I pulled out the apple I had stowed away in my jacket pocket and offered it to her.

“Let’s share the fruit of fate,” I choked.

There were so many other, better things I could have said instead, like “Now you’ll never have to wait around by yourself ever again” or “Let’s go someplace warmer.” But I didn’t care about anything else—I was just happy she was safe.

“Thank you for choosing me.”

Smiling, Himari took the apple of life and punishment from my hand. It gleamed scarlet, lighting up our faces like a tiny burning sun. Then I grabbed her hand, and from that day forward, she became part of my family.

Kanba wouldn’t join until a short while later.

 

At a little ramen shop shrouded in the darkness of dusk, Kanba sat at the bright red counter, hunched over with his hands in the pockets of his black military jacket, trying to stave off the cold. Kenzan and Chiemi sat beside him, staring down at themselves quietly. Then, with a hard look on his face, Kenzan straightened his posture.

“Right this very moment, there are countless children turning invisible as we speak. We cannot allow this corrupted world to turn a blind eye to it any longer! That is why we must bring about the Day of Reckoning and purify the world!”

Chiemi gazed at her husband, taking in every word.

“Himari needs money for her medical expenses, and as far as I know, I’m the only one who can save her,” Kanba muttered, his low voice contrasting starkly with his father’s gravitas. “But nothing’s working! No matter how much money I scrape together, Himari’s disease refuses to be cured!”

“We live in a corrupt society, restricted by rules put in place by the greedy,” Kenzan replied, placing a reassuring hand on Kanba’s shoulder.

“Yeah…it’s society’s fault…” With his cold, pink hands, Kanba clutched at his hair. “Or have I been going about it the wrong way?”

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Kanba. I can tell you’re working as hard as you can to protect the family,” Chiemi replied with a smile.

“Please, son. Save Himari from this corrupted world.”

“You’re the only one who can, sweetheart.”

Silently, Kanba looked up.

“I’m proud to have brought you into the Takakura family,” Kenzan declared, exchanging a glance with Chiemi. With a smile, she gently stroked Kanba’s soft, short, messy hair.

“You, Shoma, and Himari—the three of you are our precious children. And our precious future.”

 

Himari stood in the kitchen with Penguin No. 3, getting dinner ready for when her brothers came home. With her long hair tied in pigtails, she watched over her simmering pot with a contented smile.

“Good thing we had all the ingredients to make cream stew. It’s cold out there.”

Then No. 3 attempted to nibble at the roux brick.

“Stop that, San-chan! It’s not ready yet!”

Himari snatched the rectangular brick, reminiscent of a bar of white chocolate, out of the penguin’s little flippers. Then she narrowed her eyes and gave her best evil laugh.

“The waters are boiling, just as planned. Now, let us add the magic powder imported from a distant land… Yes, it shall bubble like white-hot lava!”

As she broke off pieces of the roux brick and slowly added them to the pot, she giggled at her own silly performance.

“I hope Sho-chan and Kan-chan get home soon,” she sighed, stirring the pot with a ladle. The roux gradually melted, and a gentle scent rose up. “Say, San-chan, wanna be my taste-tester?”

No. 3 jumped up excitedly. With a smile, Himari poured a bit of the stew onto a saucer, crouched down, and handed it to the penguin.

“Remember, it’s hot, so be careful.”

No. 3 obediently blew the steam from the liquid, then downed it with such force, it nearly swallowed the whole saucer.

“What do you think? Is it good?”

The penguin blushed happily. Himari beamed back.

“I’m gonna add some salt and pepper and give it a little more time to simmer, and then it’ll be ready!” She scooped No. 3 into her arms and gave it a nuzzle. “There’s lots and lots, so have as much as you want, okay?”

Not to suggest that she wasn’t a tiny bit worried, but right now, all she could do was wait for her family to come home. It felt like the right thing to do.

“I wonder if they’ll notice I added more embroidery to the curtains.”

Three new stars now were sewn into the fabric near the top. As she stood on the sofa, swiftly working her needle in and out, it occurred to her just how important it was to stay focused at a time like this.

Over the course of her life spent in and out of hospitals, there were many times that she found herself paralyzed from overthinking. In those cases, the most effective options were either to go to sleep or to concentrate on some other task. This applied to anything from contemplating her own mortality to thinking about romance or the future.

To Himari, family was very important. To that end, there were times when she needed to turn her brain off and stop thinking altogether.