Chapter Text
Night carried itself through the house not by sight, but by sound.
The light spilling through the gap in the shoji door wasn’t steady. Whenever someone moved inside, it shifted across the paper panels, the wooden floor of the engawa, and the darkness outside. The voices did the same. Sometimes they rose, sometimes they caught on themselves for a second, but they never stopped. A woman’s voice. Then a lower, harsher man’s voice. Then the woman again.
Shizuka had only slid the door open a little. She couldn’t see the room clearly. Only the shadows an arm lifting, a body leaning forward, then both shapes breaking apart again into a restless blur. She couldn’t see their faces. She didn’t need to. Their voices were enough.
Then she let go of the door. The shoji slid back into place. The line of light narrowed. The sounds inside turned muffled, but they didn’t disappear.
Shizuka lowered herself back onto the engawa and slowly lay down. She didn’t curl up right away. She didn’t even close her eyes at first. She just stayed there, staring at the thin line of light beneath the door.
The sound of tiny paws came softly.
Chappy stumbled over to her. He was still so small that his fur hadn’t fully puffed out yet, and his ears still had that uneven puppy look, one drooping forward while the other tilted to the side. He came up to her hand and began licking it without hesitation. His little tongue was warm. His breathing was fast. His mouth hung slightly open.
Shizuka only looked at him from the corner of her eye.
She almost said, Dummy. But she didn’t.
Chappy licked her hand again, then nudged his nose against her wrist. Like he didn’t understand what the voices inside meant, but knew something was wrong anyway.
That was when another sound came from outside.
The rustle of a plastic bag.
Shizuka pulled her eyes away from the door and turned her head just a little.
Rei was back.
He had grocery bags in his hands. The sound of his shoes stopped at the edge of the engawa. The first thing he saw was Shizuka. Then he looked toward the door. He didn’t even need to listen long to understand what was happening. His eyes stayed on the shoji for a second, then dropped to Chappy.
The puppy was still breathing too fast.
Rei quietly set the bags down. He crouched beside them. He didn’t ask Shizuka if she was okay. He didn’t say, Again? He reached for Chappy’s leash instead.
“Let’s take this idiot out,” he said, not raising his voice. “He’s gonna lose it in there.”
Then he held the leash out to Shizuka.
She didn’t move for a few seconds. Then she pushed herself up on one elbow and took it. Rei picked one of the grocery bags back up and left the other one by the edge of the engawa. Chappy straightened up at once, as if he understood.
The voices inside were still going.
But Shizuka was standing now.
By the time the three of them moved away from the house, the argument behind them had turned into a dull, faraway murmur. Chappy pulled to one side, then the other, nose low to the ground. Rei gave the leash small corrections when he needed to, but it was Shizuka’s hand holding it.
The night air was cold. The street was mostly empty. A faint light glowed somewhere in the distance. Metal clicked softly from far away, then everything sank back into silence.
Eventually Chappy stopped and began sniffing around the edge of a patch of grass. Rei opened one of the bags and pulled out a small pack of wet food. He peeled it open and held it out to Shizuka.
“Here. You give it to him.”
Shizuka took it without arguing. She crouched down and held it out. Chappy sniffed the food, then her hand, then began eating with all the seriousness of a creature convinced this was the only important thing in the world.
Rei stayed standing at first. Then he stepped back and looked down the road.
Shizuka spoke without looking away from Chappy.
“Let’s stay outside a little longer.”
Rei looked at her.
Shizuka still didn’t lift her head. It didn’t sound like she was asking permission. It sounded like she was naming something that was already true.
Rei didn’t answer right away. He waited until Chappy was done, then picked the bag up again and jerked his head toward the road ahead.
“Come on.”
Shizuka stood. She took hold of the leash again. This time, she didn’t ask where they were going.
By the time they reached the place with the three large white concrete pipes, the air had grown even colder.
That open patch of ground, so ordinary in daylight, turned into something else entirely at night. The clock pole, the guardrails, the corner of the sign swallowed by darkness, the empty road… they were all still there, but none of them mattered. What mattered was that they were away from the house. For Shizuka, that was enough.
She walked up to the front of one of the pipes and sat down. Pulling her knees to her chest, she made herself small. Chappy sniffed around for a little while, then came back and pressed against her leg. Rei crouched down a little off to her side, not directly in front of her. He set the plastic bag down beside his knee.
For a while, neither of them spoke. There was only Chappy’s quick breathing, the faint sound of a car passing somewhere far away, and the wind moving through the open space. The shouting from the house was too far now to make out clearly; it felt like those voices had really been left behind.
Shizuka rested her hand on Chappy’s back, her fingers moving absentmindedly through his fur.
“Chappy doesn’t want to go home.”
Rei didn’t break that. He only gave a small nod.
Still staring at the road, Shizuka asked,
“Don’t their throats hurt?”
A short, heavy pause.
Then she asked again,
“Will they still be yelling tomorrow?”
Rei didn’t answer.
He turned his eyes toward the road and slipped a hand into his pocket. He pulled out an empty lighter and pressed his thumb against the wheel again and again.
Click.
Click.
Click.
There was a spark. No flame.
Then he took a few other things out of his pocket too a small key, a crumpled receipt and lined them up on the flat concrete between them. Tilting his chin toward them just a little, he said,
“Come on. Sell this to me.”
Shizuka looked at him, then at the lighter. She reached out and picked it up. Turning it over in her small hands, she tried it once herself.
“But it doesn’t light.”
Rei shrugged.
“Then you don’t sell it like that.”
Without taking her eyes off the lighter, Shizuka asked,
“How?”
“You say it doesn’t go out in the wind.”
That made her finally lift her head to look at him.
“But it doesn’t light.”
Rei looked right back at her. There wasn’t the slightest hint of a smile on his face this time.
“That’s not a lie.”
The corner of Shizuka’s mouth twitched, just barely. It wasn’t exactly a smile. But some part of the stiffness in her face loosened for the first time.
Rei reached into his pocket again and took out a coin. The metal was warm from being in his pocket. He gently opened the hand Shizuka was still using to hold the lighter, placed the coin in her palm, and closed her small fingers around it with his own hand.
“Your pay.”
Shizuka turned her hand over, looking at the coin as if she were surprised by its warmth.
“But I didn’t work.”
Rei pulled one knee a little closer and adjusted the way he was sitting.
“You will tomorrow.”
This time, Shizuka looked at him directly.
“Where?”
“You’re coming with me.” Rei tipped his head in the direction of somewhere far off. “You’ll sit at the stall.”
Shizuka tightened her fingers around the coin.
“I’ll get bored.”
Rei answered like he was assigning the most ordinary job in the world.
“If you get bored, you can sort out the rotten ones.”
“Why me?”
For a brief second, Rei looked in the direction of the house. When he spoke this time, his voice didn’t come out as easily as before.
“If the rotten ones stay, they ruin the others too.”
Both of them fell silent.
Chappy came over and leaned against Shizuka’s leg. She didn’t let go of the coin. She only rubbed its edge with her thumb.
Rei leaned forward and picked up the lighter, the receipt, and the key from the concrete. He turned the lighter over in his palm for a moment, then slipped it quietly back into his pocket.
The wind passed through again.
When Rei spoke this time, his voice was lighter.
“If you oversleep tomorrow, I’m taking your pay back.”
By the time they got up to leave the pipes behind, the night had grown colder.
Rei picked up the plastic bag. Shizuka slowly stood as well. Chappy sniffed at the ground, first this way, then that way, and then, as if he understood the outing was over, began walking more quietly at the end of the leash.
Neither of them spoke right away.
It was the same road, the same street, but they felt heavier now than when they had come. Shizuka still had the coin clutched tightly in her hand. After a few steps, without even realizing it, she pressed that fist against her chest, as if she were trying to tuck away not the coin itself, but the tiny piece of tomorrow it carried with it.
They walked a little farther.
At last, without taking her eyes off the road, Shizuka spoke in a voice so low it almost disappeared into the wind.
“Don’t take it back.”
Rei didn’t turn to look at her. He only kept matching his pace to hers. A few seconds later, as if he weren’t saying anything important at all, he answered flatly,
“Just don’t be late.”
He didn’t say anything else.
When the house came into view, Shizuka’s steps slowed even more. Even Chappy wasn’t pulling at the leash the way he had been before. From the outside, the house was quiet. The shouting was gone. But it wasn’t a good kind of silence. It was the kind that didn’t feel like the yelling had ended only that it had sunk into the walls.
When they reached the door, Rei pulled the key from his pocket. He slipped it into the lock, but didn’t turn it right away. He stood there for a second, listening to the house without lifting his head.
Then, in a voice so low it barely disturbed the quiet, he said without taking his eyes off the door,
“Sleep. I’ll wake you at six.”
The door opened.
Inside, there was darkness, clutter, and silence. That familiar cramped smell of the house hit them immediately. Things were scattered across the floor a bottle, a slipper pushed out of place, a half-open bag, something small knocked over and left there. The house looked like a kind of tiredness no one had come back to clean up after.
Rei stepped in first. He nudged an empty bottle aside with his foot, silently. Then, in a short voice only Shizuka would hear, he said,
“This way.”
Shizuka drew Chappy a little closer to herself. Rei went ahead, clearing a narrow path, and she followed where he led. At one point, he moved an overturned slipper out of the way with the side of his foot, then turned his head just slightly and said under his breath,
“Watch your step.”
Shizuka didn’t answer. She only kept hold of the coin in her hand. Stepping where Rei showed her, she moved through the dim hallway.
A little farther inside, Rei’s eyes flicked toward the genkan. He stopped for the briefest second. In the middle of all that mess, something that was usually impossible not to notice wasn’t there. But he pulled his gaze away at once. He didn’t say a word.
Without fully turning around, Shizuka asked in a very small voice,
“Will you really wake me?”
Rei didn’t answer right away. Instead, he quietly set the heavy grocery bag down in the small clean space he had cleared between the scattered things on the floor. Then, without turning to face her, he answered in a short, even voice,
“I will.”
Shizuka didn’t say anything after that. She only tightened her grip on the coin.
Before she disappeared into the darkness of the rooms, Rei spoke one last time, still in that same low voice.
“Go to sleep now.”
Shizuka gave the smallest nod. With Chappy beside her and the coin still in her hand, she walked into the dark. Her small figure faded little by little into the shadows inside the house.
Rei remained there alone in the entryway for a few more seconds.
The silence of the house felt heavier than the wind outside had.
For a moment, his eyes drifted toward the genkan again, then lowered to the floor.
He still said nothing.
He only stood there.
By morning, it was the light that came first.
The pale daylight slipping through the edge of the curtain did not brighten the room all at once; it only made the dust visible. Tiny specks floated above the futon, turning slowly in the stale air, as if the room itself still had not fully let go of the night.
Shizuka opened her eyes.
For a moment, she stared at the ceiling. Then, without thinking, her hand slid beneath the pillow. The moment her fingers touched the cold metal, she woke a little more. She pulled the coin into her palm. It was no longer warm the way it had been at night. But it was there. That was enough.
When Shizuka stepped out of the room, the house looked worse in the morning.
Because now everything could be seen.
The hallway was narrow, the air stale. A slipper had been kicked out of place. A plastic bag had been left half open. Bottles leaned against the wall. Clothes hung from hooks like they had been left there forever. At night, most of it had only seemed like shadow. Now it all sat exactly where it had been abandoned.
After only a few steps, Shizuka slowed.
Her eyes drifted toward the genkan.
The empty space there stood bare in the morning light. The big shoes that always narrowed the entrance, that always caught the eye first, were gone. Shizuka stood there for a few seconds, just staring at the gap they had left behind.
Then she noticed her mother.
She was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting her clothes, smoothing her hair behind her ears, gathering her bag, all while looking only at her own reflection. The house still smelled old, shut-in, and tired, but over it now drifted the heavy scent of her perfume. It was trying to smell nice, maybe, but it did not belong in this house. It felt like something from outside that had been brought in by mistake.
Still staring toward the genkan, Shizuka asked,
“Where’s Dad?”
Her voice did not shake. It was not tearful. She was only asking.
Her mother did not look away from the mirror.
“He went out.”
Shizuka did not move after that answer. She only tightened her fingers around the coin.
“When is he coming back?”
Her mother pulled the zipper of her bag shut. She checked her face in the mirror one last time. She still did not turn to look at her daughter.
“I don’t know.”
The words stayed in the room.
Shizuka did not see her mother’s face. Only her reflection. Even that didn’t look back at her.
From the kitchen came the soft sound of a plastic bag. Rei was in the back, picking up the empty bottles from the night before. He lifted one, dropped it into the bag. Then he bent down and filled Chappy’s water bowl. His hand paused for only the briefest second as he nudged the bowl back into place. Then it kept moving. Not like he had just heard something terrible. More like he had heard something he had already expected.
From outside came the sound of a car pulling up. Then the short scrape of tires stopping.
Her mother slipped the bag over her shoulder. As she moved toward the door, she left the mirror for the first time, but even then she did not look at either of them. She put on her shoes and opened the door.
“I won’t be back tonight.”
Shizuka did not move.
“Figure dinner out yourselves.”
Rei set Chappy’s bowl down.
Just before stepping out, her mother added, in the same tone one might use to assign a task and walk away from it:
“Rei, you’ll take care of it.”
Rei did not answer.
He did not say okay. He did not even lift his head. He only tied the grocery bag shut with the same practiced motion he used for everything else. When the door closed behind her, the house no longer felt emptier. It felt caved in.
For a while, no one spoke.
Shizuka was still looking toward the genkan. Then she pressed the coin deeper into her palm. Chappy came to rub against her leg.
Rei straightened up. He set the bag beside the door. His hands hovered empty for a second, then, as though the decision had already been made, he said:
“Get ready.”
Shizuka turned toward him.
“Where?”
Without looking away from her, without adding anything unnecessary, Rei said,
“With me.”
He offered no explanation. He did not need to.
For another second, Shizuka did not move. Then she gave the smallest nod and turned back toward her room. She did not let go of the coin.
By the time they reached the market, the day had already climbed high.
They heard it before they truly entered it. The slam of plastic crates against the ground. The light clink of bottles knocking against one another. Someone shouting prices from farther down the row. Another voice calling out to a customer. After the dead silence of the house, the noise was not suffocating. Tiring, maybe. But not dead. It was alive.
The ground was damp in places, sticky with crushed peels and fruit juice. The air was warm and heavy with humidity. Mandarin. Orange. Mud. Plastic. Water. Sweat. Everything mixed together until it became its own smell.
Rei walked without speaking. The moment he stepped behind his stall, it was as if he turned into someone else. His shoulders were the same, his face was the same, but his movements changed. Faster. Sharper. Familiar. He set one crate in place, dragged another closer, straightened the fruit across the table. One customer came, and Rei named a price. Another asked something, and he answered. He took money, handed change back, passed over a bag. He did all of it like his body had memorized the work long before his mind ever got there.
At first, Shizuka stayed a little behind. She was there, but not part of it yet.
Rei bent down and pulled out a small overturned plastic crate. He set it behind the stall where she would not be in the way. Then he pushed a small pile of fruit in front of her.
“Sort out the bruised ones.”
Shizuka sat down. She looked at the fruit in front of her. She picked one up, turned it over, then reached for another. At first it was hard to tell which ones were rotten and which ones only looked wrong.
“This one too?”
Rei was giving a customer their change.
“If it’s soft, set it aside.”
Shizuka pressed the fruit lightly between her fingers. The peel gave a little beneath the pressure. Her face tightened without thinking. She placed it to one side.
For a while, that was how it went. Rei worked, and at the same time he kept one eye on her. When she reached toward the wrong crate, he tipped his head toward the other side.
“Not that one.”
Shizuka pulled her hand back with a small grumble.
“They all look the same.”
As Rei lined coins up in a customer’s hand, he answered in the same flat tone,
“The rotten ones don’t.”
Shizuka took it as instruction. She looked more carefully after that. Soon her fingers grew sticky from the juice of the fruit she was sorting through. Some looked fine on the outside but had already collapsed underneath. At one point Rei glanced over her pile and said,
“They hide at the bottom.”
It was the kind of sentence that sounded like it belonged to the fruit, and to something else.
Shizuka picked up another one. This one was worse. The peel had caved in completely, and soft juice leaked against her palm. She held it there for a second. The sticky feeling between her fingers became harder to ignore.
Then, in a flat little voice, as if she were finishing a thought to herself, she said,
“Dad’s shoes weren’t there.”
The market did not pause. Someone shouted, “Fresh ones over here!” A crate scraped across concrete. Coins rattled.
Rei stopped for only a beat. Then he reached out and took the rotten fruit quickly from her hand, as if he did not want her holding it any longer. He tossed it into the crate where the spoiled ones went.
It landed with a wet, crushed slap.
“I saw.”
That was all he said.
Shizuka did not ask anything more. She only looked at the juice on her fingers. She rubbed two fingertips together. The sticky feeling bothered her, but she did not complain.
Rei reached toward the shallow tub of ice water beside the stall. He pulled out one of the cans he had left there earlier that morning, in the shade. Droplets ran down the side. It looked cold enough to feel before touching. He set it in front of Shizuka.
“Drink that.”
Shizuka took it with both hands. At first it nearly slipped against her sticky fingers. Then she adjusted her grip. The cold, smooth surface pressed into her palms. She did not open it right away. For a few seconds, she only held it. Then, without meaning to, she drew it closer to her chest.
Rei had already turned back to the next customer.
“How many kilos?”
Shizuka rested the can against her knee and reached back toward the fruit with her free hand. This time she hesitated less.
“This one’s rotten.”
Without turning around, Rei said,
“Then sort it out.”
She placed it aside.
A little later, Rei tilted his head just enough to glance at her.
“The cloth’s there.”
Shizuka looked at the cloth. She held the can a little tighter.
“Later.”
The answer came from the same child who had stood in the house asking questions that morning, but now there was something else in it. Smaller. More ordinary. A little stubborn.
The corner of Rei’s mouth moved, barely.
“Clearly.”
Then he went back to work.
The market kept moving. People came and went. Fruit was weighed, bags filled, voices rose and disappeared into other voices. Rei’s stall was small, poor, ordinary. But its borders were clear. Things here had places. Tasks here had owners. Rotten fruit here got sorted out.
Shizuka set the can beside her and went on separating the bruised ones from the good.
Her hands were still sticky. Her father was still gone. Her mother had still left.
The noise of the market began to die down.
The overlapping shouts from the morning were gone now. The crowd in front of the stalls had thinned, and the last customers were slowly drifting away with plastic bags hanging from their hands. Somewhere nearby, an empty crate hit the ground. On the other side, someone splashed water over the concrete; fruit juice, mud, and dirt spread together into a thin film across the ground. Everything that had felt alive throughout the day was giving way to the tired disarray of late afternoon.
After sorting the last of the rotten fruit, Shizuka stopped moving. She looked at the upside-down crate she had been sitting on since morning. It really had become her place for the day. Now Rei was gathering the remaining fruit with one hand and dragging empty crates into neat stacks with the other. The edges of that small space were disappearing right in front of her.
A voice came from the stall across the way.
“Come early tomorrow.”
Without looking up, Rei slid a crate into place and answered,
“I will.”
His voice was neither hard nor soft. It only carried the weight of the day.
Shizuka heard it. She watched in silence as the world she had stepped into that morning was slowly packed away.
Rei folded the last sheet of cloth. Then he turned to Shizuka. He did not make a big gesture. He only held out his hand.
“Here.”
Shizuka opened her hand.
Rei dropped a few coins into her palm.
The metal was cool. Shizuka stared at them for a few seconds, then slipped them into her pocket. The charm coin from the night before was still there. The moment the new coins dropped in beside it, they tapped softly together with a light metallic clink.
Shizuka lifted her head.
“Is this real?”
Rei was already turning away, picking up the last bag.
“Yeah.”
He said nothing more.
Shizuka kept her hand in her pocket for another second. With the tips of her fingers, she felt where the coins were resting. Then she slowly stood up.
By the time they left the market, the shadows had grown long. The warmth of the day had not completely gone yet, but the heavy, sticky air had begun to loosen. To get home, they should have turned one way. Shizuka knew that. Rei knew it too.
But Rei did not turn toward home.
He shifted direction without slowing his steps at all.
Shizuka followed him for a few paces in silence. Then, unable to hold it in any longer, she asked,
“Aren’t we going home?”
Rei did not turn his head.
“We’re stopping somewhere first.”
That was all.
A little farther down the street, the bright white lights of the convenience store spilled across the pavement. After the market’s yellow, dirty, fruit-scented air, it looked like another world. When the door opened, the small electronic chime rang out. The cool, artificial air inside touched their faces.
Shizuka narrowed her eyes for a second.
Under the fluorescent lights, Rei looked different. The hard, steady rhythm he had carried behind the stall all day was stripped bare in that white glare. The shadows under his eyes looked darker, and the weight of the day showed more clearly in his shoulders. Still, the way he moved did not change. He took a basket and walked the aisles like someone who already knew what he needed.
He picked up noodles. Eggs. Something to drink. Whatever would get them through the evening without wasting time or effort. He did not look like someone desperately hunting for the cheapest option, and he did not browse casually either. It felt more like he already had a small list in his head and was simply collecting it off the shelves.
Shizuka walked beside him in silence. One hand stayed in her pocket. Maybe she was feeling the coins. Maybe she just did not know what else to do with her hand.
As they passed one of the shelves, she slowed.
There was a small, cheap sweet there. The wrapper was a little brighter than the others. Shizuka did not stop. She did not reach for it either. But her eyes lingered on it for just a little too long.
Rei saw.
He did not say anything.
He kept walking.
When they reached the register, Shizuka still had not spoken. Rei set the basket down and placed the noodles, the eggs, and the drinks on the counter one by one. Last of all, he picked up the little sweet Shizuka had looked at and set it beside the rest.
Shizuka looked at the counter first.
Then at Rei.
As Rei held the money out to the cashier, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Something small moved at the edge of his mouth.
“No point leaving it behind. You’d spend the whole walk home thinking about it.”
Shizuka’s eyes widened, just a little. When the cashier reached to drop the sweet into the bag with everything else, Shizuka leaned forward and took it into her own hand instead. She did not let go.
“Thanks,” she said.
Her voice was so quiet that, if anyone else had been there, they might not have heard it.
Rei did not answer. He picked up the bag and turned toward the door.
By the time they stepped back outside, the air had grown a little colder. The sound of the market was behind them now. Shizuka held the sweet in one hand and kept the other in her pocket. Rei carried the bag. They were both tired. But the tiredness no longer felt as abandoned as it had that morning.
The walk home passed in silence.
Not the frightening silence of the night before. More the silence of two people who had spent the whole day standing and no longer had the energy to fill the space between them with words. Every now and then, Shizuka moved her hand inside her pocket and felt the coins. Then she looked down at the sweet in her other hand. Then she kept walking.
When they reached the door, Rei took out the key. This time, he did not pause. He unlocked it and opened the door.
The house was dark.
And quiet.
But the moment they stepped inside, quick, rhythmic tapping came from the dark. Chappy came running across the wooden floor toward them. The sound of his little nails echoed through the empty house, louder than it should have. Before Shizuka had even shut the door all the way, Chappy was weaving around her legs, then darting toward Rei like he wanted to sniff whatever was in the bag.
Rei switched on the light.
The house was no tidier than it had been that morning. It only felt as though the absence of the day had sunk in deeper. It was a house without adults in it, but still full of the mess they had left behind.
Rei carried the bag over to the kitchen area and set it down. He started taking things out one by one. Shizuka stayed by the door at first. Then she came farther inside. She set the sweet down beside her. She did not leave.
Without looking at her, Rei spoke.
“Hold this.”
Shizuka reached out and took the package.
“Open that.”
This time, he handed her one of the noodle packs. Shizuka opened it.
“Put it there.”
So she did.
Little by little, a rhythm began to form in the kitchen. The rustle of plastic. The knock of containers against the counter. Water running. Chappy’s tail hitting something every so often. For the first time that day, there were small sounds in the house that felt alive. They were not big. But they were there.
Rei did not look like an expert at any of it. He only looked like someone who knew what to do. He turned on the stove, set the water down, moved the eggs aside, prepared the noodles. There was no flourish in the way he moved. Only the habit of someone who knew no one else was going to do it.
Shizuka did not leave the kitchen.
At one point, she looked at the sweet. She did not open it yet. Maybe she thought it would be better after they ate. Maybe she simply wanted to keep it in her hand a little longer. Rei noticed, and once again, he said nothing.
A while later, the two of them were sitting on the floor with steaming bowls in front of them. Chappy had curled up nearby, one eye still on them.
Rei picked up his chopsticks.
“Eat it while it’s hot.”
Shizuka lowered her head a little.
“Yeah.”
There were no big conversations during the meal. There did not need to be. At one point, Rei said, “Careful, don’t spill it.” Shizuka answered, “I won’t.” Then the silence settled again. But this silence was different from the market’s and different from the night’s. It was something tired that sat between them without crushing either of them.
After they ate, Shizuka opened the sweet. The little crackle of the wrapper sounded strangely sharp in the kitchen. She took one bite. Chewed for a few seconds. Then, in a very small voice, said,
“It’s good.”
Without lifting his head, Rei answered,
“Yeah.”
That was enough for Shizuka.
After a while, her hand went to her pocket again. The charm from the night before tapped softly against the coins she had earned that day. The sweet was open. Chappy was curled up nearby. Her mother was gone. Her father was gone. The house was still a mess.
But they had made it through that night.