Eventually, they arrived in Kirisaka-mura.
"Just stop near that building—'Maple Home'."
"Alright, as you wish."
"So, how much do I owe you?"
"Well… it's 4,500. But for you… let's call it 4,000."
Ken chuckled. "Heh, no need for a discount. I'm not broke."
He reached into his bag, pulled out his wallet, and handed over some cash. "Here—4,200."
The driver blinked. "Wait, 4,200? Why the extra 200?"
Ken shrugged with a smirk. "Told you I'm not broke. That's your tip—for dropping me off in one piece."
The driver stared at the money, puzzled.
'This guy's something else… I cut his fare, and he tips me? I should've charged him 5k just for the ego.'
He snapped out of it. "Well… thank you, sir. That's very kind of you."
Ken gave a half-smile as he slung his bag and guitar case over his shoulder. "Drive safe."
As he walked toward the building, the driver called out, "Hey, Ken! Have a good day!"
Ken turned his head. "You too, Mister Mori."
"Eh? How do you know my name?" he asked, surprised.
"Saw your license when you pulled out your wallet to pay the toll."
Mori laughed, impressed. "Ha— sharp eyes! Well then, maybe we'll cross paths again—if fate's in the mood."
Ken waved back. "Sure."
Ken entered the apartment building. The first thing he saw was the guard arguing with a man who appeared to be a plumber—knelt beside a wall, tools scattered around.
"I told you, it's leaking into my room again!" the guard snapped. "You're always messing around from the above. Just open the damn wall and fix the pipe already!"
"It's not my fault," the man replied, clearly annoyed. "The pipe must be low quality. Blame the builders."
Ken walked toward them.
"Ah, hello…" he greeted.
The guard looked up. "Yeah? You?"
Before Ken could say more, a loud WHRRRRR filled the air. The spinning blade of a grinder passed dangerously close to his face, nicking the wall near his shoulder.
He froze. Then sighed, almost laughing bitterly, "Oh god… what's going on today…"
The guard turned furiously to the plumber. "What the hell? You can't even handle a grinder and you call yourself a plumber?"
Then he looked at Ken. "You okay, kid?"
"Yeah… barely missed me."
"Put that damn thing back and fix it properly, you idiot!"
The guard turned back to Ken. "You need something?"
"Ah, yes... I came for the keys to my apartment."
"Which apartment?"
"Room 404."
"404…" The guard checked the log on his desk. "Oh, you're the one from Ms. Mayu's place? That orphanage lady, right?"
"Yeah, that's me."
"Hmm. Take this. Fourth floor." He handed Ken a key.
"Thanks."
The guard shouted once more before walking off with a grass-cutting tool slung over his shoulder. "Why the hell are you still standing here? Do your work!"
Once the guard was out of earshot, the so-called plumber leaned toward Ken. "Hey kid, did you notice anything… weird on your way in?"
Ken blinked. "Weird?"
The man lowered his voice. "People are acting strange. Especially that guard. He's been different lately. There's no leak in his room—I checked yesterday. And I'm not even a plumber, honestly. He was fixing this pipe himself and I just tried to help. A few minutes later, he forgot everything and treated me like I worked for him. Same thing today."
Ken looked at him, stunned.
"Oh and, sorry about the grinder. I didn't notice the blade was loose when I turned it on. Could've seriously hurt you."
Ken nodded slowly.
"Just… avoid the guard as much as you can. Might be memory loss… or paranoia."
"Y-yeah… I'll try to avoid him."
"You're new, aren't you? Haven't seen you around."
"Yeah."
The man packed his tools into a suitcase-like box. "Hmm. Guess we'll be seeing each other more often." He offered his hand. "I'm Issei Fujito."
"I'm Ken." They shook hands.
"Damn tools these days…" the guard muttered as he returned with his cutter.
"Hey, plumber! You done? Now fix this damn thing!"
Issei shouted back sarcastically, "Sure, might as well. After all, I am a plumber, right?"
He turned to Ken. "Okay, see ya—"
Ken watched him walk off, confused. What?
He turned to the lift and pressed the button. As he waited, he closed his eyes and whispered:
I nearly died… twice. God, please… don't take me so suddenly. Let me end it my way. I still have money in my account… and in this bag. At least let me burn it all first. After that, I'll kill myself and set an appointment with you. Just wait a bit, okay?
The elevator dinged. As the doors opened, a girl stepped out and bumped into him hard.
"Watch your ass, dumbass," she snapped and walked past.
Ken blinked. What's her problem? Scratching herself and telling me to watch my ass? She's the real dumbass.
He entered the lift. "Thought this day would be awesome… Guess not. I'll just sleep once I get inside."
Ken unlocked his door.
"Ah, finally… Honestly, this room's not bad." He placed his guitar and bag down, then flopped onto the bed. Off came his shoes. Then his hat.
...
Meanwhile, as evening fell...
A young man was struggling to carry five heavy books down the street.
"Hey! Wait!" a girl called out from behind him.
He turned. "You?"
"What are you doing, carrying so many books again?" the girl—Sae—said.
"Nothing… Just for reading," the boy—Renji—said.
"Didn't you just buy a bunch recently?"
"Yes. But no matter how many books I buy, it always feels like too few."
"What?" She blinked, confused.
"Nothing."
"Here, let me carry some." She took a few from his hands.
"Thanks."
"You're supposed to be at your training center. Why are you here?"
"The trainer's sick. Shut down for a few days."
"Oh. Illnesses are everywhere these days."
————————————————————
Inside a dimly lit room, a man was beating someone curled up in the corner.
"How many times do I have to tell you to buy something decent?! Cup noodles? Again?! Where am I supposed to put them—inside your ass?!" the man—Yuuto—yelled.
The guy named Haruki, on the floor coughed and yelled back, "You said you'd pay! But you never gave me a damn penny! You live here for free and you want gourmet meals?! You're a damn freeloader! You should thank me for not kicking you out!"
"Huh? That tone of yours…" the man sneered and kept beating him. For a brief moment, the guy on the floor's eyes turned completely black.
The beating stopped.
"You should thank me for not beating you to death." He leaned in close. "You better live long enough so I can kick your ass every day. Got it?"
He stood up, wiped his hands, and walked out of the room.
————————————————————
The sharp sound of raised voices spilled out from a room on the ground floor—an elderly couple was arguing again. Their small shop, attached to their apartment, stood just beside the door.
"Why are you lying around like this? You haven't done the chores yet!"
"You don't have to tell me what to do. The chores are your job, not mine."
"What did you say? You're getting lazier every day! I'm the one running the shop and the house—you don't lift a finger anymore! What's wrong with you?"
"Don't tell your husband what to do. I bought this apartment with my money."
"Your money? You mean the money you got from selling my father's house? And now you're calling it yours? How dare you!"
"Shut up, you old hag, and let me sleep in peace."
"Old hag? Look at yourself! You're not in your twenties either—old geezer!"
A sharp crash rang out—glass shattered.
"STOP MESSING WITH ME!"
Just then, a voice called from outside the room.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Yamamoto?"
"Hmph! Go deal with your customers," the old man muttered under his breath.
The woman stepped out, her name was Mrs. Yamamoto, wife of Mr. Isao Yamamoto. She forced a smile.
"Yes? What is it?"
"Good morning, Mrs. Yamamoto."
"Morning."
"I bought these—one loaf of bread, two eggs, and a pouch of milk. You weren't at the counter, so I came to find you."
He handed her some money.
"Here's the cash."
"Ah, thank you. That's very kind of you."
He nodded with a smile and turned toward the elevator. On his way, he bumped into someone.
"Watch it! Can't you see where you're going?" Yuuto snapped.
"S-sorry… That was my fault, mister," the man replied.
Yuuto scoffed and walked out without another word.
The man—Shun—reached his floor. Just as the elevator door opened, he noticed a young woman descending the stairs nearby.
"Hey, Mrs. Keiko?" he called out.
She turned, smiling. "Hello, Mr. Shun."
"Going down the stairs again? Why not use the lift?"
"It's really fine," she replied warmly.
"You okay though? You've been avoiding the elevator for a few days now. Trying to get in shape?"
She let out a soft laugh. "Not really—I'm already in shape. Just trying to stay healthy. I haven't had time to exercise lately, so this helps."
"Oh, I see…"
Just then, another voice called out, cheerful and friendly.
"Good morning, Mr. Shun! Good morning, Mrs. Keiko!"
It was Mrs. Kobayashi, approaching with her son.
"Good morning, Mrs. Kobayashi," they both replied.
As she pressed the down button for the elevator, Shun leaned down and gently placed a hand on her son's shoulder.
"Good morning, Sora."
Sora, an 8-year-old mute boy, smiled shyly and bowed to greet him.