Grey Spring: Ruins of Tokyo Manji and the Love We Left Behind - A Collapsing Everyday Life

Three days had passed since the social media post went up. Hanagaki Takemichi learned of it while peeling off his convenience store uniform. On his way home from his shift, the moment he opened his phone, notifications cascaded down like an avalanche. From unfamiliar accounts, not even followers. The content was always the same——"Tokyo Manji's Hanagaki Takemichi endorses Valstadt," "Takemichi-senpai approved it," "The Manji hero has returned." It was a lie. A single photograph taken in an alley three days ago, stripped of its context, had been spreading ever since. Takemichi shoved his phone into his pocket and walked the night streets of Sasazuka. I didn't do anything like that. He knew it. But there was no way to prove it. On the morning of the third day, when he entered Daily Shop Sasazuka, Manager Tsutsumi was waiting for him. Thirty-five years old, a man with a gentle face. He'd left his corporate job to open this store, and he'd hired Takemichi without asking questions. That same Manager Tsutsumi was now waiting for him behind the counter. His eyes were troubled. Apologetic. "Hanagaki, we got calls again today," Takemichi's hand froze on his apron. "About a dozen of them. Similar stuff to yesterday——saying we shouldn't hire anyone connected to Tokyo Manji. Some customers are even calling us out on SNS," Tsutsumi's voice wasn't accusatory. The complete absence of blame made it heavier. "I believe in you, Hanagaki. I really do. But... when I think about the store," Takemichi couldn't say anything. The words wouldn't come. But it wasn't just words that wouldn't come. His emotions had sunk somewhere deep, and they wouldn't move. "I need you to take some time off. Once things settle down, we can——" "...I understand," That was all Takemichi said. He returned his apron to the shelf. Katagiri Minoru was standing in front of the register. Nineteen years old. The man who always called him "Takemichi-san." Their eyes met for just a moment, then his gaze slid away. That was everything. When he left the store, the cloudy sky hung low and heavy. The morning air of Sasazuka was thin and cold, and Takemichi gripped his wallet in his pocket. Three one-thousand-yen bills. Most of his fifteen-thousand-yen monthly income came from this shift. Eight days remained until the rent payment of fifty-two thousand yen was due. (I might be done for.) The words drifted slowly through his mind. When he returned to Corpo Minase, Minase Toshiko was waiting at the end of the hallway. Seventy-two years old, the landlord of this building. Sharp-eyed, but not pushy. That same Minase Toshiko had a slightly worried expression today. "Hanagaki-san, since yesterday... there've been some unfamiliar young people hanging around in front of the apartment," Takemichi looked from the end of the hallway toward the alley beyond the bicycle parking area. No one was there now. But he understood what kind of "hanging around" it was——the kind that meant surveillance. "I'm sorry for the trouble," With just those words, he opened the door to Room 201. He couldn't manage a smile. A plastic container from Hinata hung from the doorknob. Today it held two rice balls and a hastily scrawled note. Just three characters: "Eat up." Takemichi picked up the container, stepped inside, and sat on the floor. He couldn't bring himself to open it, still gripping the note. In the alley outside the window, there was a presence different from before. ——The next morning. There was no food. He'd eaten the rice balls from the container in the middle of the night, and the refrigerator was empty. He needed to go to a convenience store. He couldn't go to his own workplace, but there was another one about seven minutes' walk away. Takemichi pulled on his hoodie and opened the door. The moment he stepped into the alley, four people moved. He'd sensed their presence. But he hadn't expected them to come from all four directions. Two in front, two behind. All young. Around twenty years old. The one in the lead was a youth with shaved-in lines on his head——the man who'd pointed a smartphone at him in a Shimokitazawa alley four days ago. "Senpai, don't run," He was smiling. The smile of someone who had you cornered. "We've been waiting, us. All we need is for you to say one word, senpai. Just acknowledge us. That's all," Takemichi ran. He ran without looking back. The alleys of Sasazuka were a maze. If he could just turn the corner——but four sets of footsteps pursued him. Fast. Takemichi's body had barely eaten anything in three days, hadn't slept properly, and wouldn't move at full strength. At the entrance to Sasazuka Sakura Park, his shoulder was grabbed. His feet tangled. As he stumbled forward, his collar was seized and he was yanked upright. The leader's face was right in front of him. "Why are you running? We're not bad guys," A fist came. The first punch landed directly on his cheekbone. His vision swayed. The second hit his ribs. Air rushed from his lungs. He gritted his teeth against his knees buckling, and the third punch grazed his cheek. The taste of blood spread through his mouth. Metallic. Warm and sickly. "All you have to do is acknowledge us. Just say one word as our senpai," The voice grew distant. Not physically distant, but something else cut through Takemichi's mind. Night. Asphalt. The smell of blood. Draken collapsing to the ground. That massive body crumpling like a puppet with cut strings. Takemichi's hands turning red. His voice not reaching. Screaming a name. Whose name was it. Not just one. They came one after another. The night of the Kanto Incident. That year's night. The faces he couldn't protect, lined up in order. His breathing became ragged. His chest wouldn't move. Couldn't inhale. Couldn't exhale. His body lost control, and Takemichi collapsed to the ground. He fell to his knees on the gravel of the park. A bench leg was right in front of him. Rain was beginning to fall. "...Hey, is this guy okay?" Another member's voice came. A rustling of movement. Footsteps wavered for a few steps. Then they receded. All of them running away. Takemichi curled his body beneath the bench leg. His breathing was shallow and fast, and he didn't know how to control it. Rain pounded his back. His clothes grew wet. The park was silent. No one was there. (What the hell.) Only that phrase repeated in his mind. The situation, the emotions, everything was a mess, and he didn't know where to start sorting it out. He didn't know how much time had passed before footsteps approached. Running footsteps. One person. "Takemichi——!" It was only later that Takemichi learned Minase Toshiko had seen the members running down the alley and knocked on the door of Room 202. Hina had apparently rushed out without even grabbing an umbrella. Still in her thin room clothes, barefoot with only indoor slippers hastily shoved on, she'd run here. Rain clung her bangs to her cheeks. She crouched down and reached to touch Takemichi's shoulder. "Don't touch me!" He shouted. A voice came out that surprised even himself. "Don't get involved! You'll get caught up in this too!!" Hina's hand stopped for just a moment. The rain was growing stronger. The park's gravel darkened as it grew wet. A swing swayed in the wind, making a small sound. Hina remained crouched, unmoving. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Then she reached out again. Her fingers touched his trembling fingertips. Ignoring his words not to touch, choosing only the single point of not letting go, Hina's hand was there. Takemichi had no strength. He couldn't push her away. His entire body was exhausted. Three days of everything came crashing down all at once. Losing his job. Three one-thousand-yen bills in his wallet. The stakeout in front of his room. Flashbacks. Rain. The taste of blood. What he'd been holding back crumbled. "...I couldn't protect anyone," Words came out. Trembling, hoarse, pathetic words. "Draken... Baji... everyone... they died because I was weak," Words he hadn't been able to tell anyone in two years. If he said them, it felt like admitting something, so he'd kept swallowing them down. But now, with no strength in his body, with Hina's hand gripping his, in the rain, they became words and came out. Hina didn't cry. She held Takemichi's hand and didn't move. She said nothing. No denial, no comfort, no excuses, nothing. In the sound of the rain, she simply received all of Takemichi's words as they were. Takemichi couldn't push Hina's hand away. He wept on the muddy gravel. His voice came out. It was pathetic beyond his own belief. He'd thought he'd forgotten how to cry two years ago, but his body remembered. Rain struck both of them equally. ——That same evening. Shimokitazawa. The break room of the beauty salon Fabrica was a cramped space of about two tatami mats. There was only a folding pipe chair and an instant coffee maker. When Mitsuya Takashi was called in, he sat down and faced Tsurumi Akira, who was already seated. Tsurumi was forty years old, a former delinquent. A man who vaguely sensed Mitsuya's past but never asked. That owner was now looking quietly into Mitsuya's eyes. "Seven appointment cancellations came in," Mitsuya didn't answer. "It's the SNS thing. Your name's coming up alongside Hanagaki's. We got inquiry calls at the shop yesterday too," Tsurumi wasn't blaming him. His voice was emotionless, just laying out facts. That made it heavier. "I value your skill. Really. But if customers stop coming, the shop dies. You understand that, right?" The word "dismissal" never came out once. But the meaning was clear. Mitsuya neither said "yes" nor "no." He nodded and left the break room, pushing open Fabrica's door with his shoulder. The moment he stepped onto the Shimokitazawa night street, cold air hit his face. The rain had just stopped, and the asphalt gleamed wet. Vintage clothing store signs, music leaking from a live house, the laughter of young people. It all sounded like it belonged to some distant place. He pulled out his phone. He started typing a message to Takemichi. He typed characters and deleted them. Typed again and deleted again. After repeating it three times, he closed the app. He got on the train. He arrived in front of Corpo Minase in Sasazuka a little after seven in the evening. His feet stopped as he headed toward the building's entrance. A presence of two people came from the direction of the park. Under a streetlight, Hina was there. Supporting Takemichi's arm, walking. Takemichi's clothes were wet. There was a bruise on the left side of his face. Hina was wet too. Still in her room clothes, barefoot with only indoor slippers. The two of them walking slowly together. Hina's fingers gripped Takemichi's wrist firmly. Mitsuya didn't move. His expression didn't change. But in his pocket, his hand slowly made a fist. Takemichi, supported by Hina, entered the building. The door closed. Under the streetlight, Mitsuya stood alone. What had he been doing for two years? A stable job, a peaceful daily life, being beside him in the form of friendship——it had all been a detour to protect Takemichi. So Takemichi wouldn't be hurt, so Takemichi wouldn't break, he'd played the role of an ordinary person for Takemichi's sake. But tonight, Hina was holding Takemichi's hand. Mitsuya turned on his heel. He didn't call out to them. Couldn't call out to them. He couldn't even explain the reason to himself. When he returned to Shimokitazawa, his feet stopped in front of the izakaya Tobiuo's sign. He didn't go inside. He just gazed vaguely at the orange light of the sign from outside. In his chest, an emotion he'd never named before, tonight took on its first clear outline. (I don't want to give up.) Those words fell quietly into Mitsuya's being. It wasn't friendship. It wasn't camaraderie. It was something else entirely, something he'd been suppressing

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Episode 5

Name: Grey Spring: Ruins of Tokyo Manji and the Love We Left Behind
Author: Novelia

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