3,000 Yen Closer

Rchi walked the Osaka streets as dusk bled into dark neon. His duffel bag dug into his shoulder with every step a heavy anchor of home in a sea of strangers.
Ma-chii’s money… No. That’s for survival. Not for comfort.
He passed love hotels glowing pink, business hotels with tidy lobbies, capsule pods stacked like tombs. Each one whispered temptation a real bed, a locked door, a shower. He clenched his jaw.
I didn’t come here to sleep soft.
He found a small park tucked between two office towers a patch of stubborn green fighting concrete. A wooden bench, worn smooth by time, waited under a skeletal cherry tree.
He lay down, the wood hard against his spine, and stared up at the hazy moon, bleached by city lights.
“Faceless Girl,” he said, voice barely carrying over distant traffic. “I don’t know your name. I don’t know what you are. Ma-chii says you take a photo and people die in twelve days. But listen I’m going to find you. And I’m going to erase you.”
He pulled his duffel under his head like a makeshift pillow, the fabric smelling of mountain herbs and home.
Just for tonight. Tomorrow, I hunt.
He fell asleep to the hum of a city that had already taken everything from him.


Morning came with a weight on his chest.
Something was sitting on him. Heavy. Deliberate.
His eyes stayed shut, heart slamming against his ribs. It’s her. She found me. Do I run? Do I fight? He strained to hear the click of a camera shutter. Nothing.
He opened his eyes.
A giant orange cat with a sagging belly stared down at him, unblinking. For a long second, they assessed each other two creatures just trying to survive. Then the cat leapt away, disappearing into the bushes.
Rchi sat up, breath rushing out in a shaky laugh.
“Just a cat… Shit. I almost pissed myself.”


He washed his face in a public restroom, the water bitingly cold. His reflection looked back tired, young, too much like his father around the eyes.
“Job first,” he told the mirror. “Then food.”


The rejections started early and didn’t let up.
At a convenience store, the manager didn’t even look up from his phone. “No hiring.”
A ramen shop owner eyed his duffel bag. “We need experience. You have kitchen papers?”
“I can learn”“Next.”
A construction foreman laughed. “Kid, you’d last an hour. Get stronger, then come back.”
By midday, hunger was a sharp knot in his gut. Pride began to crack.
He stepped into a small, steamy udon shop, the air thick with the smell of broth and fried tempura.
The owner a woman in her fifties with tired eyes and a permanent frown was scrubbing a pot.
“Need help?” Rchi asked, voice raw.
“Not hiring.”
“I’m not asking for pay.” The words burned his throat. “One meal. I’ll wash every dish in this place for one meal.”
She paused, studying him. Saw the duffel, the stubborn set of his jaw, the hollow look in his eyes. She sighed.
“The pile’s in back. Don’t break anything.”


The dish pit was a miniature hell steamy, slippery, stacked high with bowls crusted with noodle residue and plates slick with oil. Rchi rolled up his sleeves and got to work.
Hot water, too much soap, scrub, rinse, stack. Again. Again.
His mind began to wander as his hands moved on autopilot.
When I find her… I won’t wait. I won’t ask questions. I’ll just move.He scrubbed hard at a burnt pot, imagining it was her camera.I’ll sprint straight at her. No fear. Grab her before she can click. Pin her down. Knee on her back. Knock that camera so far away she’ll never
“Hey!” The owner’s voice snapped him back. “Don’t scrub so hard. You’ll scratch the coating.”
“Sorry.”
He slowed his hands, but his thoughts kept racing.
She’s just a girl. A ghost, but still a girl. I can take her. I’ve fought wild boars in the mountains. I’ve carried firewood heavier than her. She clicks… I charge. Simple.
A grim smile touched his lips as he rinsed a tower of bowls.
Simple.


Two hours later, the last dish was stacked, drying.
The owner handed him a bowl of udon the cheap kind, with one tempura shrimp and too many noodles.
He didn’t sit. He stood at the counter, chopsticks moving like weapons.
Eat fast. Train hard. Find her.Each slurp was fuel. Each bite was a step closer.This isn’t food. This is energy to hunt. To end her.
He didn’t taste the broth. He tasted purpose.
When he looked up, the bowl was empty, not a drop left.
“Thank you,” he said, voice thick.
She nodded toward the door. “You can go.”
“I can keep working. Sweep, take out trash”
“I gave you a meal. That was the deal.” Her voice wasn’t unkind, just final. “Now go.”


He hit three more restaurants that afternoon.
A curry shop let him sweep and mop for 1,000 yen.
A takoyaki stall had him haul garbage bags for 800.
A bakery near closing needed trays scrubbed 1,200 yen.
By the time the streetlights flickered on, Rchi’s hands were raw, his back ached, and he had 3,000 yen in his pocket.
He stumbled back to his bench, the park now empty and still.
He sat down, unfolded the crumpled bills, and stared.

Three thousand yen. Earned. His.
A slow, fierce warmth spread through his chest, cutting through the exhaustion.
“I can do this,” he whispered to the dark. “I don’t need to touch her money. I can earn my own way. I can survive here.”
He lay back, using his duffel as a pillow once more. The lumpy bag was nothing like a real bed, but it was his filled with Ma-chii’s worry and his own stubborn will.
Tomorrow… I start looking for answers. Police stations. Old news articles. Anything.
He closed his eyes, body heavy but mind still spinning.
Find her. Run at her. Pin her. No hesitation. No fear.
As sleep finally dragged him under, his last murmured words were not to the city, not to himself, but to her somewhere out there in the dark.
“I’m coming for you… Just wait.”