The sun was higher now, but it didn't feel warm. Outside the Amamiya house, the air was still and tasted like dust.
Mr. Kamitani stood by the gate, his hands deep in his coat pockets. He was looking at a young police officer who was leaning against the blue-and-red lights of his police car. The officer was tapping a pen against a clipboard.
Tap. Tap. Tap. "I already told you, sir," the officer said, his voice sounding rehearsed. "The body is being held. It's been seven hours since the accident, but we need more tests. It's standard procedure."
Mr. Kamitani stepped closer, his shadow falling over the officer's clipboard. "I am a lawyer, son. I know the procedure. This accident happened on the main road near the old district—there is a government morgue two blocks away. Why was she taken across the city to a private facility?"
The officer jumped, his eyes shifting to the ground. "The orders came from the top, sir. She was moved to Nagachika General Hospital."
Mr. Kamitani's forehead wrinkled. 'Nagachika?' That was a place for the elite, not a girl from a fading house like this.
He stepped away and pulled out his phone. He scrolled to a name he hadn't called in a long time: Kaneki Nagachika. Even though Kaneki was a wealthy hospital director, he was a man of grace and respect.
The phone rang. Rrr-ing. Rrr-ing.
"Kamitani?" Kaneki's voice sounded surprised but genuinely warm. "It's rare for you to call me during the day. Is everything alright? Did Kento and Hori get into trouble at school again?"
Mr. Kamitani turned his back to the police officer. He lowered his voice, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the dry dirt on the road.
Mr. Kamitani didn't smile. "I wish it were that simple, Kaneki. I'm calling about a girl who was brought into your hospital about two hours ago. Asuka Amamiya. A hit-and-run victim."
"Amamiya?" Kaneki paused. "Wait a moment... let me check the intake log."
Mr. Kamitani heard the clacking of keys.
"Yes, she was brought in," Kaneki's voice shifted. It lost its warmth and became low, like he was checking over his shoulder. "Is she... someone you know?"
"She is the daughter of my wife's closest friend," Mr. Kamitani replied. He stopped and kicked a small stone. He watched it roll into the shadows under the police car.
"The police are delaying the post mortem report. They say the body is being held for 'special clearance' by your hospital."
On the other end, the sound of papers shifting stopped instantly. The silence was heavy. Mr. Kamitani gripped his phone tighter, his knuckles turning white.
"I wanted to ask why would a girl from a poor family like hers be sent to a private hospital like yours instead of the public morgue?"
Mr. Kamitani looked up at the black ribbon on the gate. It flapped once. Snap. "And if you knew anything about the delay?"
There was a long, cold silence. Mr. Kamitani could hear the sound of a hospital page over the line.
"Kamitani..." Mr. Nagachika's voice became very serious, almost a whisper. "I cannot speak about this over the phone. But since it is you asking..."
He cleared his throat. "Please. Come to my home this evening. My shift ends at six. I have things to show you that I shouldn't even know myself. Do not tell anyone you are coming. Can you do that?"
"I'll be there. Thank you, Kaneki."
CLICK.
Inside the house, the atmosphere was like a heavy fog.
Shido was sitting on the floor in the corner, his back against the cold wall and his black socks pressing against the cold wood. Beside him sat Kuze, whose eyes were still red and swollen.
"Your brother... Kento... he didn't come?" Kuze asked in a low voice.
Shido let out a short, forced breath. "Kento? Nah. He's probably at home staring at a mirror to make sure the tragedy didn't give him a wrinkle. He's too delicate for this stuff."
Shido pulled his collar. The air felt thick, like he was breathing in hot wool. "Is it just me, or did they turn a heater or something up? It's suffocating." He looked at Kuze. "You feel like that? Like the walls are moving in?"
Kuze finally looked at him. He saw the sweat on Shido's forehead and the way his eyes were moving here and there. "Shido? Are you okay? You're shaking."
Kuze reached out his hand to touch Shido's shoulder—to check on him.
As soon as Kuze's fingers brushed his sleeve, the room vanished.
Ten years ago. The smell of rain and wet black suits. A six-year-old Shido sat in a dark hall, his knees pulled tight to his chest. His face was wet with clear tears that wouldn't stop.
A small hand reached out toward him—young Kento, looking clean and worried.
"Shido... are you alright?" Kento had asked.
Young Shido had swung his arm wildly, hitting Kento's hand away. "Don't touch me!" he had screamed, his voice breaking. "You don't understand! Your parents are right there! Mine are no longer in this world! You don't know anything!"
He remembered the whispers of the adults nearby.
"What a difficult child..."
"The Kamitanis are so kind to take him in, and he acts like a monster."
" He has no gratitude."
But Shido didn't want gratitude. He didn't want Kento's hand. He just wanted his parents to wake up.
"GET OFF ME!" The shout echoed through the Amamiya living room. Shido had swung his arm, slamming Kuze's hand away just like he had done to Kento ten years ago.
The room went dead silent.
The rhythmic sounds of teacups stopped. The women who were whispering in the corner froze, their eyes wide. Every head in the living room turned toward the corner where Shido sat.
"My goodness," a woman whispered, her voice carrying across the quiet room. "Is that the Kamitani boy? What a temper... even at a funeral."
"He's always been strange," another replied, shielding her mouth with her hand. "No respect for the dead. Look at him, he's acting like a wild animal."
Tamiko dropped the stack of napkins she was holding. Her face went pale. She didn't look at the gossiping women; she only looked at Shido. She saw the way his chest was heaving and the way his eyes looked hollow, like he wasn't really in the room anymore.
'Shido...' she thought, her heart aching. She took a step toward him, but her feet felt heavy. She knew that look—it was the look of a person drowning in a memory.
Shiyi was standing by the kitchen door, clutching a tray. Her knuckles were white. She felt a surge of anger at the women's whispers, but she was also frustrated with Shido.
"He's making a scene again," Shiyi muttered, her voice trembling slightly. She wanted to yell at him to get up, to be strong, to stop giving these people a reason to talk. But when she saw the sweat dripping down from his forehead, her anger turned into a cold, uncomfortable feeling in her stomach.
Kuze remained frozen, his hand still hanging in the air where Shido had struck it. "Shido?" he asked, his voice low. "I was just... I was just checking on you."
Shido blinked. The memory of the rain and the mud from ten years ago began to dissolve. He saw the shocked faces of the neighbors. He saw Tamiko's worried eyes. He saw the 'LivelySpirit' mask lying in pieces on the floor.
"I... I'm sorry," Shido whispered, his voice cracking. He rubbed his face hard, his fingers trembling. "I'm not well. It's the incense. It's just the smell."
He stood up, his black socks sliding slightly on the polished wood. He didn't look at anyone. He just kept his head down, trying to find a way to breathe as he marched toward the hallway, desperate to escape the eyes of the living.
He didn't look back. He marched toward the door, his heart hammering with frustration.
Shiyi watched him go from the kitchen doorway, her hand tightening on a tray until her knuckles turned white. Her face was a mask of cold discipline. "Why is he acting like such a brat?" she muttered, her voice sharp with frustration.
She started to step out, ready to call him back, but Tamiko was already there. Tamiko caught Shiyi's wrist, her touch light but firm.
"Shiyi, stop," Tamiko said softly. Her eyes were filled with a deep, observant sadness. "He's had enough"
"Enough?" Shiyi's voice was a sharp whisper. She pointed toward the women whispering in the corner. "Did you hear them? They called him a 'wild animal.' They're laughing at him! And he's just going to walk away and let them think they're right?"
"He lost his parents when he was a child," Tamiko reminded her, her voice steady despite the noise of the room.
"Coming here... the smell of the incense, the sounds of people crying... it's dragging him back to the day he became an orphan. I feel it too, Shiyi. My parents are gone, Shiyi...and to people like us, this room doesn't feel like a house. It feels like a graveyard."
Shiyi snapped her head away, her eyes annoyed. "That's just an excuse. We all have problems. My parents left me and my brother behind—they didn't even care enough to stay! You don't see me crying on the floor. You guys are just weak. You need to learn to bear things instead of making a scene."
Shiyi turned and walked into the kitchen, leaving Tamiko standing alone in the silence.
---