Worst Kind of Sin
He doesn't see Hatsumi until her son is born.
He hasn't slept with her, but the kid looks more like his own than it does Ryoki's. Maybe that's why she comes to his home at three in the morning and small, her baby silent in her arms. He can't stop looking at her son, sleeping, because if he isn't looking at the baby then he has to look at her, and he isn't sure he's ready for that now.
"I'm so sorry," she whispers, "I don't really—I haven't talked to anyone in a couple years, and…It'll just be until morning."
She looks used up, like something ugly sat at the base of her neck and fed. He had an idea of what manner of creature. He wondered if she thought she was still in love with him, or if maybe she didn't always need someone telling her what to do anymore.
"I don't mind," he says, "It's good to see you."
This part is mostly true.
Azusa stops in at five. He's been with a girl. He might be high.
"So this is Ryoki Jr., huh?" Azusa leans over the two figures sleeping in Shinogu's bed, "Looks kind of like you."
"Not really," Shinogu says. Azusa looks amused as he pushes away Hatsumi's hair, then meanders towards the kitchen.
"If we're lucky, maybe he'll act like you too."
"He's not mine."
"Sure he isn't," Azusa digs around his medicine cabinet, "Sleeping pills?"
"What're you going to do with them?"
"Kill someone," Azusa says lightly. Shinogu is mostly sure he's kidding. About seventy percent. Azusa puts the whole bottle in his pocket, walks out, and comes back an hour later. He sticks five hundred thousand yen in Hatsumi's pocket and walks out again.
The baby wakes up at seven, and Hatsumi with it. She looks at it, frazzled beneath her tired. Shinogu moves instinctively—though he supposes it isn't any of his business. Not anymore.
By eight she's back on the phone with Ryoki and tucking her baby's diaper into place. Shinogu watches Ryoki Jr. as she does this. It's true, they really do look alike. Something about the eyes.
"What's his name?" he asks her as she leaves.
"Tatsuya," Hatsumi says after a beat, a name that has no meaning for him at all, "Ryoki liked it. I wanted to—" she pauses, "I don't call him that."
"Oh," he says, and then gives her an awkward, one-armed hug, because it feels wrong, and he lets go too quickly. She walks out the door and he does absolutely nothing and somehow he feels like this is the worst thing he could have possibly done.
He waves goodbye then shuts the door and puts his foot through the wall.