Chapter 6

Finally, the day had ended.

For the first time in what felt like ages, I had a bit of silence—a break from the constant noise and chaos that had been following me around all day. No school, no classmates, no drama club trying to scout me. Just me and the streets of Tokyo, bustling with the evening crowd.

I walked with no destination in mind, letting the neon lights blur past me as my feet carried me through the maze of streets. The city had a hum of its own, a rhythm that pulsed through the pavement beneath me. Somehow, that rhythm made it easier to think. Or maybe easier to forget. I didn’t know which. Either way, it gave me a moment of peace.

My thoughts wandered back to the school. The day had been nothing short of bizarre. I cringed as I replayed the scene in my mind—the kid barking at me like a dog in front of everyone. My face burned at the memory, embarrassment crawling up my neck. But the more I thought about it, the more funny it seemed.

I chuckled to myself. I actually laughed, out loud, in the middle of the crowded streets of Tokyo. The whole thing had been absurd. What was his name again? Shuba? Shubu? Something like that.

Whatever. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that I had bigger things to deal with. I wasn’t supposed to be wrapped up in this. I had responsibilities—real ones. Not just some kid’s desperate plea for help. But no matter how hard I tried to push it away, the weight of my own promise started to settle in.

I had told him I’d figure something out. Even though I didn’t want to be involved any deeper than I already was, my own words were like chains, pulling me back into a mess I hadn’t asked for.

I let out a frustrated sigh, scratching the back of my head as I walked. The sounds of the city were drowned out by the thoughts swirling in my mind. I could still back out, though. I wasn’t bound to this kid’s problem. I wasn’t supposed to care.

But then, almost automatically, my hand reached for my phone. I dialed the number, and as soon as someone picked up, I didn’t waste any time.

"How much?" I asked, my voice sharp and to the point.

There was a pause on the other end. "How much what?" the voice replied, slightly confused.

"The boy’s father," I clarified. "How much does he owe?"

There was another brief pause and I hear papers rustling before the answer came. "100 million yen."

I froze, my feet rooted to the spot. A hundred million yen? My grip tightened around the phone as the number sank in. What the hell could that man have done to rack up that kind of debt?

Anger surged through me. Why the hell did I get involved in this?

The frustration gnawed at me, and for a split second, I considered backing out entirely. It wasn’t too late. I could still walk away, turn my back on this mess, and pretend I never promised him in the first place.

Just as I was about to turn around, I slammed into someone—hard.

The impact sent me stumbling back, but the other person wasn’t as lucky. They hit the ground with a thud, the sound of breaking glass and clattering items filling the air as whatever they had been carrying scattered across the pavement.

I blinked, my mind snapping back to the present as I steadied myself. The man I had bumped into struggled on the ground, his hands shaking as he tried to gather the mess around him. Shattered pottery, torn papers, and a few scattered tools lay in a heap.

Instinctively, I knelt down to help him, but as I reached out, I froze.

It was him—the father from yesterday.

His eyes widened in recognition, fear flashing across his face as he realized who I was. His hands started trembling even more, and he immediately bowed his head, apologizing frantically.

"I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to bump into you," he stammered, his voice shaking. "Please… forgive me."

Before I could even respond, another man stormed out from a nearby shop, his face twisted in fury.

The father scrambled to his feet, bowing repeatedly to the shopkeeper, his voice trembling with apologies. "I’m so sorry! Please… I’ll pay for the damages. It was an accident."

I stood there, watching the scene unfold as the man continued to grovel, his desperation palpable. Seeing him like that—helpless, trying to fix something he couldn't control—it stirred something inside me. A wave of memories I hadn’t expected hit me hard.

My own father, back when he was still alive, doing the exact same thing—bowing, apologizing, scrambling to make things right, even when there was nothing he could do. He was crushed under the weight of debt, the weight of failure. I’d watched him suffer, helpless to do anything.

The scene in front of me felt like a cruel echo of the past.

I blinked, shaking off the memory, trying to push it away. The man—Subaru’s father—was still groveling, and the shopkeeper was still shouting, berating him for something that wasn’t even his fault. It was too much. I couldn’t watch it anymore.

Without a word, I stepped forward, pulling out my wallet. I peeled off several bills and handed them to the shopkeeper, my voice cold and low.

"Here," I said, locking eyes with the man. "This should cover it. Now get the fuck out of here."

The shopkeeper’s anger disappeared the moment he saw the money. He grabbed the cash from my hand without a second thought, mumbling something under his breath before turning and disappearing back into his shop.

The father looked up at me, his face still pale, trembling. "I… I don’t know what to say. Thank you, I—"

"Don’t." I cut him off, my voice sharper than I intended. "Don’t thank me."

The father, still trembling, stood before me, bowing again. "Thank you… I don’t know how to repay you… but please, at least let me buy you a drink. It’s the least I can do for what you’ve done."

I hesitated. The last thing I wanted was to stick around, but something in his voice—his desperation, his genuine gratitude—made it hard for me to say no. Before I could answer, he hurried off toward a nearby convenience store, leaving me standing there, unsure of why I was still waiting.

A few minutes later, he returned, slightly out of breath, holding a single can of warm coffee. He handed it to me with both hands, bowing again, his eyes filled with shame. "I’m sorry… it’s just a cheap coffee. I hope it’s okay."

I took it without saying anything, and we settled down on the edge of the sidewalk. I held the warm can between my palms, feeling the heat radiate through my fingers. The father sat next to me, his hands empty, and for a moment, we sat in silence, the noise of the city buzzing around us.

The quiet between us stretched on for a while before I finally spoke.

"What did you do… to owe 100 million yen?" I asked, my voice low, more curious than accusing.

He flinched at the question, his face tightening as if the weight of it had physically hit him. His shoulders sagged, and for a long moment, he said nothing. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"It was for my wife," he said, staring at the ground. "She had cancer… the doctors said she didn’t have much time left. But there were treatments—experimental ones. They were expensive. Ridiculously expensive…"

He paused, his hands trembling slightly in his lap. "I didn’t tell her… didn’t tell anyone. She would have never allowed me to borrow money from people like them. But I… I couldn’t just sit there and watch her die. I thought, if I could just have more time with her… it would be worth it. Any cost. Any price."

His voice cracked, and he let out a bitter laugh, but it wasn’t from joy. "She didn’t want it. She never asked for it. She hated hospitals, hated the treatments, but I did it anyway. Those extra years… they were mine. I forced her to live longer, for me."

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if reliving the memories, then looked down at the sidewalk again. "In the end, she still died. But those extra years… seeing her smile, hearing her voice just a little longer... it was worth it. I thought, ‘I’d give anything for just a few more minutes with her.’ I loved her that much."

The father wiped his eyes quickly, as if ashamed to show any more emotion. His voice grew quieter. "But life isn’t fair. Sometimes it takes away your happiness, punishes you for having it in the first place."

I didn’t respond. There wasn’t anything to say. I’d heard stories like his before—people taking desperate measures for love—but hearing it directly from him, seeing the pain written on his face, made it feel different.

He sighed deeply, the weight of his words pressing down on him. "After she passed, I wanted to end it all. The debt, the yakuza… it was all too much. But then I’d look at my son, Subaru… and I couldn’t. He didn’t deserve this. None of it was his fault."

His voice shook again, and I saw his hands clench into fists. "I thought if I could just live long enough to get him through college, help him become independent… then I could disappear. But I got caught before I could even do that."

He coughed suddenly, his body lurching forward, and before he could cover his mouth, I saw a small streak of blood on his hand. He wiped it away quickly, but I’d already seen it.

"I don’t have much time left," he rasped, his voice growing hoarse. "But I’ll repay the debt. I swear it. I’ll sell my soul to the devil if I have to. But my son… he’s not going to pay for my mistakes. He doesn’t deserve this burden. It’s mine."

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with sorrow and determination. "Please. Don’t let my son carry this weight. I’ll do whatever it takes… just give him a chance to live without my shadow hanging over him."

I stared at the can of coffee in my hand, the warmth now fading as the father’s words echoed in my head. His desperation, his love for his wife and son… it wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before, but hearing and seeing it from him made it feel different. He wasn’t just another debtor. He was a man who had sacrificed everything for love and was now watching it all crumble around him.

We sat in silence for a while longer, the city around us buzzing with life, completely unaware of the small tragedy unfolding on this sidewalk. The father shifted slightly, his eyes downcast, lost in thought.

I stood up, brushing off my pants as I looked down at him. His thin frame seemed even smaller, weighed down by years of regret and debt.

“The debt’s paid,” I said, my voice low but firm. “Don’t waste any more of your time on it. Live your life… be there for your son. He’s going to need you for every second he can get.”

The father looked up at me, startled, his eyes widening with disbelief. His mouth opened slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out.

I didn’t wait for a response. I turned on my heel and started walking away, my footsteps steady and certain, even though my mind was anything but.

As I moved through the bustling crowd, the weight of my own words settled over me like a heavy blanket. Was my father like that too?

I wondered if he’d ever felt the same drive—the desperate need to hold the family together, even as everything crumbled around him. The father I remembered was a man suffocating under the weight of impossible debts, bowing his head to people like Yanagi, scraping together anything just to survive another day. Was he fighting for us in the same way?

Back then, I was too young to understand. Too young to see the invisible chains that debt wraps around people. The kind that makes you a prisoner long before you realize it. My father, this man—they were caught in the same trap. And they paid for it with their lives, one way or another.

I had never asked my father if he was scared. Never asked him what kept him going all those years. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was love. Or maybe, in the end, they were the same thing—fear and love, two sides of the same coin. Fear of losing everything, and love so strong it made you willing to lose yourself to protect the people you cared about.

"Debt is more than just money," I thought to myself. "It’s a shackle that chains you to your past mistakes, and sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you can't break free."

Was that why my father had kept going, even when everything seemed hopeless? Was he trying to give me a future, even though the debts were too high to ever pay off?

If he had felt the same hope this man had for his son, maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe…

But that hope died with him. And all I was left with were questions. Questions I never had the chance to ask.

I clenched my fists as I walked, feeling the familiar bitterness rise up inside me. I had spent years hating him for what he had done—for leaving me behind to face the mess alone. But now, standing here, I wondered if I had ever really understood. Maybe he had been like this man, clinging to the last shred of hope that somehow things could change, that somehow his son could live a life free from the weight of his choices.

“Sometimes, when a man is trapped, the only way out is to keep running, even if he’s running in place,” I thought to myself, the old saying echoing in my mind. “But when he stops… that’s when he falls.”

I stuffed my hands in my pockets, the warmth of the city lights doing nothing to ease the cold knot forming in my chest. My father had stopped running. He had fallen. And I had been left to pick up the pieces.

But this man… this father… I’d given him the chance to keep running, at least for a little while longer. To be there for his son, to offer him what my father never could: time.

And maybe that was enough.

But as I kept walking, I couldn’t shake the thought that lingered in the back of my mind.

“What if my father had had that same chance?”

Maybe it wouldn’t have changed anything. Or maybe it would’ve changed everything. I’d never know. That future, that hope—it had died along with him. But tonight, for this man, I’d done what I could. I’d given him the hope that my father had lost, a chance to make things right.

“Sometimes, saving someone else is the only way we can save ourselves.”