Content Warning
This chapter addresses the topic of depression. While it maintains the characteristic dark humor, please remember that mental health is not a joke... though sometimes pretending it is helps you survive.
2:37 AM — The Hour When Dysfunctional Families Go Therapeutic Shopping
The Konbini was so empty even the mosquitoes were bored. I, Hiroto, was rearranging coffee cans (because the manager thinks moving things pointlessly is staying productive) when the door opened with a ding that was way too cheerful for the dead of night.
Three people walked in: a girl about 14 with puffy eyes and a baggy sweatshirt that seemed to swallow her whole. Behind her, clearly her parents: a woman with runny mascara and a man with a crooked tie, as if they'd rushed out of the house.
"Akane, sweetie, look," said the mother, pointing at the shelves with a forced smile while pushing an empty shopping cart. "We can get anything you want! Ice cream, chocolates, even those Kit Kats you like so much!"
The girl, Akane, didn't look up. Her trembling hands gripped the cuffs of her sweatshirt, and her steps dragged with the weight of someone who didn't want to be there.
"I'm not hungry..." she murmured, her voice raspy as if she'd been crying for hours.
"Come on, cheer up!" the father gave her a pat on the back that made Akane flinch. "You've been shut in your room for too long. A little sugar helps lift your spirits!"
"Yes, honey." the mother grabbed a pack of Kit Kats and shook it like cough medicine. "Remember when we used to go shopping on Saturdays? You loved it!"
"That was before..." whispered Akane, rubbing her red eyes.
"Before what?" the father crossed his arms, his voice rising. "You just need to get out a bit more. Last week, Mrs. Takahashi told me her daughter called you 4 times and you didn't even answer. She thought something happened to you."
"And what did you want me to do?" Akane finally looked up, tears welling in her eyes. "Tell her: 'Hi, sorry, it's just that I feel like my whole life is garbage and I don't even want to get out of bed'?"
"Don't say such things!" the mother interrupted, gripping the cart until her knuckles turned white. "You're just... tired from school. We're here for that, to cheer you up!"
"Exactly." the father added, softer, pointing to a stuffed dog with a smiling face. "Look at this. It says 'I Love You!' on its belly! Isn't it cute?"
Akane looked at the stuffed animal as if it were a bad joke.
Aoi, chewing gum next to me, whispered:
"Bet: they'll spend 5,000 yen on sugar and guilt."
"Shut up," I replied, but it was already clear the family was carrying an argument with them. The parents had that "we don't know what to do" expression, and Akane had the "please let me disappear" one.
"Look, Akane," the mother lowered her voice, though we all heard her. "I know... what happened an hour ago was wrong. We all got a little upset, but understand that yelling at you doesn't make us feel good either. That's why we came here, you understand? To fix it."
"This isn't helping at all..." the girl wiped a tear with her sleeve. "I just want to lock myself in my room again."
"That's the problem!" the father exploded, throwing a bag of candies into the cart. "I don't understand you. We always strive to give you everything. Why do you act like the world is ending?"
"Because all of this is garbage!" Akane yelled at him for the first time, trembling. "Do you think I like feeling like this? Every day I wake up and see that trash in the mirror who isn't even capable of getting out of bed and doing something with her life! But no! You only know how to say 'be happy' as if I had a stupid switch in my brain!"
The Konbini fell silent. Even the buzz of the lights seemed to hush.
The mother swallowed hard and, in a desperate attempt, grabbed a chocolate ice cream and a pack of Pocky.
"Here, you used to like this," she said, almost pleading, her eyes wet. "Right?"
"I used to like it," Akane looked at the sweets with disgust. "Before all of this became garbage."
Aoi couldn't contain herself.
"Hey, you know what's the worst thing about 'be happy'?" she jumped onto the counter, swinging her legs. "It's like telling someone with a broken leg: 'Run faster!'. And when they fall, you say: 'Oops, you didn't try hard enough!'."
All three turned to us, blinking confused, as if someone had interrupted their family moment.
"She just needs to distract herself a little," the father said with a nervous smile, more to himself than to us. "When I was young, if I was sad, I'd go for a run or help my grandpa in the fields. That always helped me!"
"Oh, really? Did it also help with clinical depression, chemical brain imbalances, and the urge to yell at people who repeat 'be happy' like a broken record?" Aoi asked with that cat-about-to-kill-a-mouse smile.
The parents blinked.
"S-She's not depressed!" the mother said loudly, hugging Akane, who shrank back as if the contact burned her. "She's just... going through a phase."
"Sure, like lunar phases," I murmured, remembering all too well the nonsense people repeated to me years ago. "But instead of affecting the tides, they make you want to cry in the shower."
Akane looked at me then. Not with anger, but with that exhaustion of someone who no longer even has the strength to explain why everything hurts. It was like looking in a mirror from years ago: same school uniform, same expression of wanting to jump out a window.
"We just want to help!" the father protested, but his voice sounded weak.
"And you are," said Aoi, pointing at the sweets. "Just like someone helps a drowning person by selling them a limited edition life preserver."
Akane let out a choked laugh. It was brief, but enough.
"Look, kid," I said, avoiding the girl's name because I knew she hated being treated like a little child. "Your parents are idiots."
"Hey!" the mother protested.
"But they're idiots who love you," I continued. "The problem is they think sadness is something you can easily fix with shopping and motivational phrases."
Aoi didn't say anything, just looked at me with that smile, a smile that knew more about me than I'd like to admit.
"What you have is more like... having an octopus on your head. Its arms squeeze your brain, cloud your vision, and every time you try to speak, it covers your mouth with a suction cup."
Akane blinked, curious.
"And... how do you get rid of it?"
"That's the funniest part, you don't get rid of it," I replied, more brusquely than planned. "But you can learn to live with the octopus. Or, in my case, to insult it every day."
"I gave mine a name," said Aoi, smiling. "It's called Mr. Sleepy. He loves reminding me how useless I am at 4 AM."
"And... does that help?" asked Akane.
"No. But at least I laugh when I say 'Fuck off, Mr. Sleepy'."
The girl looked at her parents, then at the sweets, and finally at the "I Love You!" stuffed animal.
"I don't want any of this," she said, leaving it all behind. "If you want to buy me something... I just want a coffee."
The parents looked at each other, lost.
"But... don't you like Kit Kats?" asked the father, confused.
"I like them..." Akane replied. "But not today."
While the mother paid for the can of hot coffee (and the father secretly returned the sweets to the shelves, like a thief hiding the evidence of a crime), Aoi leaned towards Akane.
She whispered something in her ear.
The girl nodded, almost smiling.
As they left, Akane carried the hot coffee in one hand and a small piece of paper with a phone number on it.
"What did you tell her?" I asked when they were gone.
"That if her parents tell her to 'be happy' again, she should spit the coffee at them." Aoi smiled, but her eyes were serious. "And that the octopus lies. Always."
I didn't say anything. Because she was right.