Nowaki squinted against the bright light of the Japanese sun, the age lines under his eyes creasing. He glanced down the short staircase that led to the sidewalk, where Misaki was smiling at him and waving. Nowaki clutched the railing for his support as he slowly made his way down the steps.
"How does it feel to see the sunlight again, Nowaki?" Misaki asked fondly. Nowaki blinked and looked around.
"I expected it to be warmer," he said, his voice low and crackly with age.
"Haha, were they roasting you in your cell?" Misaki joked. "Usagi-san already has a car ready to take you to Kamijou-san's house."
"Hiro-san? He's in Japan?"
Misaki raised an eyebrow.
"Well, yeah. It's been, what, thirty years? Did you honestly expect him to stay in Sweden forever?"
Nowaki went rigid. The next thing he knew, he was at the doorstep of a rickety old house. He frowned and stepped up the creaking front porch. He slowly opened the door and stepped inside.
It reeked of cat piss- and just as he took a whiff, a white Persian cat scampered by.
"…Maiko-chan… I'm really hungry," croaked a familiar voice. Nowaki whirled around to see Hiroki slumped over in a chair, his body trembling with age. His weak arms clutched the armrest, and he looked up with sickly eyes.
"Get it yourself! You have legs, don't you?" yelled a scratchy female voice. "I'm going out."
Hiroki opened his mouth to protest, but coughed violently, making Nowaki cringe. A moment later, a fat, older woman walked out of a nearby room. She seemed to be perfectly healthy, but she barely regarded Hiroki as she passed. She raised an eyebrow expectantly.
"You actually gonna die this time?"
"D-Don't worry about me," Hiroki wheezed, waving his hand dismissively. "I'll be fine."
Nowaki's eyes widened in horror.
"You won't be fine, Hiro-san!" he cried. No one heard him, and he blinked as the woman passed through him as if he didn't exist.
"Then I'm leaving. There are some crackers in the cupboard."
Hiroki frowned.
"But… I can't eat solid fo-" he began. The woman tore the door open and slammed it shut behind her. Hiroki paused for a moment, then cupped a hand over his mouth. "I love you, honey!"
Nowaki trembled as Hiroki leaned forward, bracing himself with feeble hands and pushing himself out of his armchair. However, he fell back with a grunt and tried again.
"Hiro-san, let me help you!" Nowaki pleaded desperately, rushing forward to take Hiroki's hands. His arms passed straight through Hiroki, however. After a lot of struggling and popping from his old back, Hiroki finally hauled himself to his feet and shuffled out of the room and an achingly slow pace. Nowaki stumbled after him, into a kitchen.
None of the dishes were cleaned- all of them sat in the sink, moldy and crawling with creatures Nowaki had no desire knowing about. Hiroki went to a cupboard, where a box of saltine crackers sat at the bottom. One the top shelves, though, were plenty of packages of oatmeal, grits, and other soft foods. They were all out of Hiroki's reach.
"I'll help you!" Nowaki blurted. He launched himself at the cupboard and frantically reached for anything Hiro-san could eat, but just like everything else, his hand passed through it. He looked over his shoulder in dread to see Hiroki fumbling with the box of crackers. When he finally pried it open, he pulled out a cracker and put it into his mouth. He winced as he chewed, covering his mouth with his hand and squeezing his eyes shut. Nowaki panicked, shoving away from the counter to the refrigerator. Inside, he rejoiced as he could open it. Inside was plenty of yogurt, applesauce, and other soft foods. Nowaki turned to Hiroki desperately.
"Look, Hiro-san! There's soft food in here that you can reach!" Nowaki shouted, pointing at the refrigerator. Hiroki didn't hear him and slowly shuffled back towards the living room. Nowaki shook his head and chased him, trying to grab his shoulders but only passing through him again. Hiroki went back to his chair and slowly sank down into it, whimpering in pain. Nowaki fell to his knees before Hiroki in desperation.
"Hiro-san, please, let me take care of you!" he begged. Just as he was about to start weeping, the front door slammed open. He looked over his shoulder to see a middle-aged woman with jet black hair saunter in the house. Her bright, cobalt eyes flashed in annoyance. Nowaki was about to cry out in relief, but when he skimmed his eyes over his daughter's body, he realized that she was dressed like a prostitute. A cigarette dangled from her lips- but by its smell, Nowaki could tell that it wasn't just a cigarette- it was a joint that smelled strongly of marijuana. He eyed her arms in horror, where red dots covered the insides of her elbows. Heroine.
"Papa, I need more money," she stated in a throaty smoker's voice, holding out her hand. Hiroki turned to her and smiled.
"Hi, Fuyumi. How have you been?" Hiroki asked affectionately. "Why don't you take a seat for a while?"
Fuyumi rolled her eyes.
"Papa, my friends are waiting out there for me. One of them is asking to lend him some money," Fuyumi demanded.
"Oh, alright, sweetie. What's his name?"
Fuyumi shrugged.
"How am I supposed to know?" she asked. She hopped up and down impatiently. "Come on, Papa. I have an appointment with one of my clients at nine."
"Make sure he wears a condom," Hiroki instructed with a smile as he outstretched a feeble hand with a few bills in his fist. Fuyumi snatched it away from him and counted it.
"This is only twenty seven fucking dollars," Fuyumi snapped, squinting. Hiroki frowned.
"I'm sorry, dear, that's all I have. Your mother took the re-"
"Whatever. I'm leaving," Fuyumi huffed. She turned on her heel and stomped away.
"Have fun! I love you, Fuyumi," Hiroki called. Fuyumi looked over her shoulder and snorted.
"I don't."
She slammed the door behind her and Hiroki was alone once more. He sighed and slouched in his chair. Nowaki, who was still kneeling on the ground, had been completely paralyzed. He shook in horror and grief, unable to register what had just unfolded before him. He looked up to see Hiroki reaching to his side to retrieve a picture frame. Frowning at it, he touched the picture with shaking fingertips.
"Nowaki…" he whispered. He suddenly looked up and looked Nowaki in the eyes for the first time.
"I need you."
Nowaki flew at Hiroki, frantically reaching his arms out for him. When they connected, however, Nowaki passed right through him and the armchair. He descended into darkness, falling, falling-
Nowaki screamed as he arched his back in his cot, clawing at his hair with his functioning fingers. Seconds later, the light flicked on and pounding footsteps approached his bedside. Hands groped at his body for error. When they found none, they paused, grabbed his wrists, and pried them away from his face.
"Kusama!" Emiko exclaimed. Nowaki's chest heaved, and the second his screams stopped, he hyperventilated. Emiko patted his cheeks to snap him out of it. "Kusama! Kusama, relax! It was just'a dream! Take deep breaths!"
Nowaki panted breathlessly, his vision tunneling for a few seconds. Slowly, he recovered, and he was reduced to a shivering, terrified mass upon the bed.
"Kusama…?"
"I can't go to jail!" he shouted, turning to Emiko and staring at her with wild eyes. "I can't! I have to take care of my family!"
"Kusa-"
"I WON'T GO!" he roared. Emiko rolled her eyes and slapped her hand over Nowaki's mouth.
"Jesus, Kusama. Jus' listen. We performed an autopsy on Nagasaki. Turns out he died of causes prior to yo' fight. Yo' innocent, Kusama. Yo' completely innocent."
