After the devastating breakups with Kenji and Keiji, Hajime forced himself to return to his usual self, or at least, the semblance of it. He changed schools, seeking anonymity, and continued to lead a normal, quiet life, burying himself in the mundane. He also found a new part-time job as a waitress at another restaurant, a different uniform, a different set of faces. He tried to keep himself relentlessly busy, hoping that sheer exhaustion would prevent him from thinking about Kenji, about the gaping void his absence left.
Hajime tried not to think about Kenji, but it was an impossible task. Kenji was the first and last love of his life, etched into his very being, and forgetting him felt like forgetting how to breathe. On the evening train, sparsely populated with weary commuters, he listened to "Kiss the Rain" by Yiruma. Of all Yiruma's ethereal compositions, "Kiss the Rain" was his favorite. Sometimes, when the loneliness became an unbearable weight, he would put on Yiruma's music; it helped calm his racing heart and soothe his troubled mind, the gentle piano notes a poignant reminder that, even in pain, life might still be worthwhile.
Hajime leaned back, resting his head against the cool train window, and sighed, a deep, weary breath. He opened his eyes, letting his gaze drift to the left, and saw her again. The same girl in white, looking at him with that soft, knowing smile. A shimmering light seemed to emanate from where she sat, a faint, almost imperceptible glow.
Hajime immediately dismissed it, telling himself he was seeing things because he was so tired, so emotionally drained. He blinked twice, hard, then opened his eyes again, but the girl was still there, sitting two seats away, her serene gaze fixed on him.
On second thought, he reasoned, it might just be a coincidence. Perhaps she took this train regularly, just like him. He closed his eyes again, forcing himself to focus on the melancholic piano music, pushing the unsettling vision away.
It was almost eleven o'clock when Hajime got out of the train station, the streetlights casting long, distorted shadows. Walking home, the breeze seemed cooler than usual tonight, carrying a hint of distant rain. As he walked, he glanced across the street and saw the girl again, walking calmly on the opposite sidewalk. Hajime figured she must live very close by, that it was simply a repeated coincidence that they took the same train home. When he reached the apartment building, its familiar, grimy exterior looming, he slowly walked up the creaking stairs towards the room he shared with Aimi.
As Hajime reached for his key, he heard Aimi's familiar, drunken moan from inside the apartment. He frowned, his shoulders slumping. He put the keys back into his jacket pocket and walked back down the stairs, finding a cold, hard step at the bottom to sit on. He waited there until after one o'clock in the morning, when the front door finally opened again, and a middle-aged man, smelling strongly of stale cigarettes and cheap liquor, came down.
Takami, his eyes narrowed, smirked at Hajime while lighting a cigarette. "Hey... you." Hajime didn't look up, his gaze fixed on the scuffed floor. "I've seen you here a few times. Your mother said she wants me to help you become a host. Interested in being a host?"
Hajime didn't raise his head, didn't answer Takami, hoping he would simply disappear.
Takami sat down next to Hajime, exhaling a plume of acrid cigarette smoke directly into Hajime's face. He chuckled, a rough, grating sound. "You're pretty good-looking yourself. I know many people who are willing to spend a lot of money on you to accompany them." He reached out, his hand coarse, and rubbed Hajime's shoulder.
Hajime flinched, instinctively batting Takami's hand away.
Takami scoffed at Hajime's reaction. "Young man, with a sweet and lovely face like yours, you can earn a lot of money as a host." He took another puff of his cigarette, then exhaled on Hajime again, the smoke burning Hajime's eyes. "A pretty boy like you can make a lot of money in one night."
"Not interested," Hajime said flatly, his voice devoid of inflection. He stood up, finally, and walked up the stairs, eager to get away.
"You little shit!" Takami roared angrily from below. "I'm trying to get you out of this miserable life! Although you're pretty, with that attitude, you won't succeed!"
Hajime reached the apartment door. He turned the doorknob, and to his surprise, it wasn't even locked. He slowly pushed the door open, taking a cautious step inside, and immediately felt something large and flat under his foot. He looked down to see a large, yellow envelope lying on the floor, addressed to him.
He didn't recognize the sender. When he took a closer look, the envelope seemed to be from a law firm in Tokyo.
Hajime locked the door, the click echoing in the silent apartment. He walked into the living room, his heart sinking, as he saw Aimi lying naked on the floor, a tangle of limbs and discarded clothes. He walked past her, trying to ignore her, but she stirred, her hand grabbing his left ankle.
Aimi turned her head, her eyes unfocused, her words slurring. "Hajime-kun… I found a way out of this mess... Ito-san said you would make a great host." She slurred again, her voice rising in frustration. "Hajime-kun, did you hear that? Are you fucking deaf?!"
Hajime jerked his foot away, the disgust rising in his throat. He walked away, shaking his head. "I'm hearing you the first time." He knew there was no point in trying to reason with his mother when she was this drunk.
Aimi, enraged by his dismissive tone, grabbed an empty beer can and hurled it at him. The flying can struck Hajime on the back of the head, a sharp, painful thud. Aimi struggled to her feet, swaying, and then began to hit Hajime, her blows wild and uncoordinated.
She roared angrily, "Why didn't you answer when you heard that?! Why are you so useless?! Why did I give birth to you?! Because of you, I lost everything! My dreams, my financial support, and my husband!"
Hajime frowned, his patience finally snapping. "Stop it!" He pushed Aimi away from him, a rare act of defiance. He looked at her, his eyes cold and distant. "I also wish I was not your son, too."
"Then why are you still here, huh?!" Aimi shrieked, her face contorted. "Why don't you die... so I can get your life insurance?!" She bent over, gagging, and vomited onto the floor.
Hajime stared at her, a profound emptiness settling over him. He turned and started walking away, wanting nothing more than to escape.
Aimi wiped her mouth, saw Hajime retreating, and her fury ignited anew. She staggered forward, rushing over to continue beating Hajime. She roared, "You ungrateful bastard!" She waved her fist at Hajime's head, hitting him repeatedly, her voice venomous. "Without me, you'd die! Die! Why were you born?! I wish you were never born! You can't do anything for me, you're a burden to me. I can't remarry because of your shit!" She pushed Hajime to the floor and began kicking him, her rage uncontrolled. "I have to keep moving from place to place because of you! Why can't you be normal like everyone else?!"
Hajime finally stood up, his body aching, and pushed Aimi away from him with a renewed, desperate strength.
Aimi swung her fist at Hajime again, but he caught her hand, twisting it, and pushed her back to the floor. With tears finally streaming down his face, not from pain, but from a deep, profound weariness, he said, his voice trembling with a quiet, fierce resolve, "I would only give my life for the one who loves me unconditionally. I will never die for you, because dying for you is so meaningless." He rushed into his room, slamming the door shut and locking it.
Aimi began to bang on the door hard, screaming, "You little piece of shit! Get your ass out here… you hear me… get your ass out here!"
Hajime sat down behind the door, wrapping his arms around his knees, burying his face in his knees and sobbing, the sounds of his mother's rage and the physical pain fading into the background. Then, he heard a loud, insistent knock on the front door, distinct from Aimi's frantic banging. Aimi seemed to stop her assault on his door, and he heard her stumble towards the front. Takami must have come back to spend the night with Aimi. He heard Aimi and Takami start talking, their voices muffled, as they entered Aimi's room, the storage closet. It didn't take long for Hajime to hear Aimi's unmistakable moaning and the rhythmic banging of the headboard hitting against the wall.
Hajime looked down at the floor, beside him was the large yellow envelope addressed to him. He picked it up, his fingers tracing his name. He opened the envelope, and a sleek business card slipped out, dropping to the floor. He picked up the business card; it was from a law firm, the same firm that had sent him the envelope. He looked inside the envelope again; there were two keys, a bank card, and two letters addressed to him. He carefully pulled out the first letter and began to read:
My dearest Hajime,
When you receive this letter, it means that I am no longer in this world. I want to say sorry. Sorry to leave you in that stairwell. Your face that day has never faded from my memory. I failed to protect you when you needed me the most. I want you to know that I really want to take you with me, but I can't bring myself to face your mother. I know I hurt you when I chose my wife and other sons, but I want to tell you that I love you, there is not a day that goes by that I don't think about you. My sweet obedient son, who has always thought of others before he thinks of himself. Inside this envelope, you will find a bankbook with your name and house keys. This house was given to me by your grandfather, and now I will give it to you. The house is waiting for you in Kamakura.
Love you to the moon and back,
Papa
Hajime held the yellow envelope to his chest, the letter crinkling softly. He began to sob again, deeper, harsher sobs, the word echoing in the silence of his room: "Papa…"
Hajime knew, with a sudden, overwhelming clarity, that there was nothing left for him in this place. The fine, thin line he had constantly tried to draw between his mother and himself had not just been crossed; it had been utterly obliterated. He no longer had the patience or the strength to keep drawing new ones. He no longer had Kenji, his personal hero, to cling to, and he knew, with a chilling certainty, that his mother would never change. He stayed up all night, packing his luggage, his movements automatic.
After packing, he realized with a pang that there were not many things that truly belonged to him. Staring at the two duffel bags and his backpack, he saw the meager sum of his worldly possessions.
Hajime knew that the first train left at five o'clock in the morning. He looked at his phone; it was already four o'clock. Without a second thought, he walked quickly out of his room and silently out the front door, leaving the moans and banging from Aimi's room behind him.
He walked down the stairs until he reached the end of the street, the pre-dawn air cool and still. He stood where he was, waiting for the walking lights to come on, when suddenly, a blindingly bright headlamp shot straight at him, momentarily disorienting him. He blinked, and then he saw a light panel, glowing eerily, roll quickly past him, seemingly independent of any vehicle.
Then, he heard a soft, ethereal female voice calling his name. The woman's voice was getting closer and closer, a whisper that seemed to echo directly in his ears. The woman's voice whispered softly in Hajime's left ear, "Hajime… wake up."