The winter dusk came especially early. It was barely past five, yet the sky had already sunk dark, as if stained with ink.
Cold wind poured in from the mouth of the alley, carrying the damp chill peculiar to the riverside, slipping in through collars and cuffs and making one instinctively hunch their neck.
Tsushima Kagami walked Shimizu Nayotake back toward her apartment. The earlier business with the long johns had given the two of them a topic, and they'd chatted on and off the whole way.
Now and then a bicycle would come riding up from behind, its bell giving a single clatter, and she would unconsciously lean a little closer toward him—then, once the bike had passed, quietly drift back to a slight distance again.
As they turned into that familiar alley, they could already see, from afar, the old, run-down apartment building where Nayotake lived.
Most of the paint on the building's exterior wall had peeled away, exposing the dull gray cement beneath, and several electrical wires hung down from the rooftop, swaying faintly in the wind.
Two of the fluorescent tubes in the first-floor corridor were broken; only the one in the middle still stubbornly glowed, emitting a faint electric hum.
"We're here."
Shimizu Nayotake said softly.
Then she bowed slightly toward Tsushima Kagami.
"Sorry to trouble you again today."
Tsushima Kagami only smiled and didn't say much.
Nayotake fished the key out of her bag.
Just then, the sound of footsteps came from the roadside.
A middle-aged woman, dressed rather thinly and clearly gaunt, came walking over carrying a plastic bag.
Upon seeing them, she quickened her pace.
"Nayotake!"
The woman's voice carried a panting breath—obviously she'd been hurrying.
The two of them turned to look.
It was Mrs. Shimizu.
She had grown even thinner since Tsushima Kagami last saw her, her cheekbones jutting out more sharply, though her eyes still held some spirit.
Only as she drew near did she notice Tsushima Kagami standing beside her daughter. She froze for a moment, then quickly put on a somewhat flustered smile.
"Ah, Kagami-kun, sorry to trouble you again, walking Nayotake home."
Mrs. Shimizu said, bowing slightly as well.
"It's no trouble. I happened to run into Nayotake getting off work while I was walking Shizuku to the convenience store."
"Walking Nayotake home is a good way to pass the time, too."
Tsushima Kagami said with a smile.
"And where are you coming back from, Mrs. Shimizu?"
Tsushima Kagami asked, looking at Mrs. Shimizu, who had obviously just returned from somewhere.
Mrs. Shimizu's smile remained somewhat flustered, and she laughed in embarrassment.
"I went to help a neighbor with a little something today."
"You could call it a part-time job, I suppose."
"Can your body handle it?"
Tsushima Kagami said, looking at the frail Mrs. Shimizu.
"Thanks to you, Kagami-kun, and to Shizuku, my health has improved quite a bit lately."
"And the neighbors are all good people—they deliberately leave the easier tasks for me."
Lately, Tsushima Kagami and Shizuku had often used visiting Nayotake as a pretext to bring along some gifts.
It had, in some measure, helped improve their living situation—at least now they could eat their fill, unlike before, when they often went hungry, and their meals had improved a great deal as well.
After hearing this, Tsushima Kagami didn't say anything more; he only nodded.
Only then did Mrs. Shimizu remember that they'd been talking for so long and she still hadn't invited him inside to sit.
She bowed apologetically and said:
"I'm sorry, I got so caught up talking I forgot to invite you in to sit down, Kagami-kun."
"Oh, that's right—Kagami-kun, have you eaten dinner yet?"
"Not yet."
Tsushima Kagami answered honestly.
"Then—then come in and sit a while. I bought some groceries on my way back, as it happens."
There was a trace of uncertainty in Mrs. Shimizu's tone.
As if she were worried that the state of her home might make this young man look down on it.
Tsushima Kagami also felt that, having dropped by so often lately, there was no need to stand on ceremony.
So he said with a smile:
"Then I'll intrude."
Tsushima Kagami had been to Nayotake's home more times than he could count.
But every single time, the cramped and shabby feeling of it made his chest tighten ever so slightly.
It was somewhat different from the time he, Shizuku, and his mother had crammed together into the "cheesecake" in Chiba Prefecture.
After all, back then everyone had still had their health, and didn't have to endure hunger.
The floor was old composite wood that gave a faint creak underfoot.
A single room served as living room, dining room, and bedroom all at once, with a low table taking up the center.
A tablecloth, washed until it had faded white, was spread over it, its edges frayed with several worn-out threads.
On top sat a notebook and some medications that looked like they had to be taken at any time.
In the corner stood a small television, its screen only the size of a palm, its antenna wrapped in aluminum foil and standing up crookedly.
On the wall hung a faded calendar, its picture a scene of Mount Fuji, the date still stuck two months in the past.
"Kagami-kun, sit down, don't be shy."
Mrs. Shimizu hurriedly cleared the medications off the low table.
Then she wiped the tabletop—which wasn't actually dirty—with her sleeve.
By now Nayotake had also brewed a cup of hot tea and handed it to Tsushima Kagami.
Along with a small dish of senbei.
The tea was the cheapest barley tea.
He and Shizuku had tasted it more times than they could count when coming here.
"Thank you."
Tsushima Kagami took the barley tea and sipped a little.
Coming alone really did feel a bit awkward each time.
It would be nice if Shizuku could come along with him.
Tsushima Kagami thought to himself.
After a round of greetings.
The Shimizu mother and daughter began preparing the evening's meal.
Tsushima Kagami sat down at the low table, his back against the wall.
On the wall was pasted a drawing Nayotake had made as a child.
The kind done in crayon—a crooked sun and flowers.
In the lower right corner, written in a childish hand, were the words: Class 2, Year 1, Shimizu Nayotake.
From the kitchen came the sound of running water, the clinking of bowls and plates, the chopping of vegetables on a cutting board, and Mrs. Shimizu and her daughter softly saying something to each other.
Tsushima Kagami didn't deliberately listen, but in such a small space, the voices still drifted over.
"Mom, don't say weird things..."
"I'm not saying anything weird, I just think..."
"You silly child, he's helped you so much, you have to thank him properly..."
"I know that..."
Then came the sound of a spatula scraping against an iron wok, the sizzle of oil, and the aroma of stir-frying spreading through the air.
Tsushima Kagami leaned against the wall and gently closed his eyes.
The room was very quiet, with only the sound of cooking from the kitchen.
He suddenly remembered that, back when he'd first transmigrated over, he had been a patient.
Alone, enduring the colic after the stomach pumping and the lingering effects of the drugs.
Returning to that run-down house that didn't even have heating, he'd often had to wrap himself up in his blanket like a cocoon.
Back then he'd felt he was the unluckiest person alive.
Dropped, for no reason, into a country he didn't even like, and left to face a whole heap of messes.
But now, sitting in this cramped and shabby room, smelling the aroma of cooking drifting from the kitchen, listening to the soft conversation between mother and daughter—
he didn't quite know why, but he simply felt an inexplicable sense of ease.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
Mrs. Shimizu came back into the living room from the entryway carrying a tray.
Tsushima Kagami moved the barley tea and the small senbei off the low table.
And helped Mrs. Shimizu carry the dishes from the tray onto the low table.
One plate was stir-fried greens, one was tamagoyaki, and there was also a plate of pan-fried salmon.
The salmon was the very one Tsushima Kagami and Yukinoshita Shizuku had brought when they came to see Nayotake last month.
He'd heard salmon was good for the heart, and that it could also supplement protein intake.
Afraid Mrs. Shimizu would refuse, he'd deliberately not brought too much—just a slightly larger portion than an ordinary gift.
But it had been only enough for the two of them to share over a few meals.
He hadn't expected that it would still be served up now, cooked for him to eat.
It seemed she'd never been able to bring herself to eat it.
"There's nothing good here, but make do with it."
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