Chapter 7

I stepped into the hotel room, tossing my jacket onto the bed with a tired sigh. The day had been long, and the weight of everything—Subaru, his father, the damn 100 million yen debt—hung heavy in the back of my mind. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall before I decided to go through my bag.

I rummaged through it, half out of boredom and half out of habit, until my fingers brushed against something small and crumpled at the bottom. I pulled it out and unfolded the worn fabric, revealing a small bag I hadn’t touched in years.

I opened it, and there it was—bank account information. I stared at the papers for a moment, almost forgetting what it was, but then I saw the numbers: 100 million yen. I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself, a quiet, bitter laugh.

All those years working for the yakuza, saving up this money in secret, hoping that one day I’d have the chance to use it for myself. Back then, I had a ridiculous fantasy that I’d be free one day, that I could disappear with this cash and start over. But now? That hope felt like a distant dream—a dream that had no place in my reality.

"Sometimes, saving someone else is the only way we can save ourselves," I muttered to myself, shaking my head.

I laughed again, this time louder, realizing the irony of it all. In the end, it wasn’t going to be used for my freedom. I wasn’t even sure I’d ever be free.

The next day, I arrived at school with a duffle bag slung over my shoulder, filled with American-printed money. My heart was heavy, but I kept my head down as I walked through the halls, looking for Subaru. I found him waiting by the lockers, as usual, and waved him over.

“Boss!” Subaru called out eagerly as he jogged up to me, his face lighting up like an overenthusiastic puppy.

I sighed, tossing the duffle bag at him. He fumbled with it for a second, almost dropping it before pulling the zipper open. His eyes widened as he stared down at the stacks of cash inside. "What… what is this?!"

"That," I said, nodding toward the bag, "is for when the yakuza come knocking. Hand it over when they pay you a visit tomorrow."

Subaru’s face lit up with joy, his eyes sparkling as if I’d just given him the keys to a better life. "B-Boss, I don’t even know what to say—this is… this is incredible!" His voice was breathless, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

But then, his expression shifted, a flicker of worry passing over his face. "Wait, where did you get this money? You didn’t, like, rob a bank or something, did you?"

I stared at him for a second, the question hanging in the air, and then I raised my hand and smacked him upside the head. "I’m a yakuza, not a reckless idiot!"

Subaru rubbed the back of his head, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry, Boss. I just… this is a lot of money."

"Yeah, well, guard that bag with your life," I warned, crossing my arms. "When the yakuza come, you hand it over. No questions, no funny business."

Subaru’s eyes were wide with determination. He nodded so hard I thought his head might fall off. "I swear, Boss, I’ll protect it with my life!"

"And stop calling me Boss," I said, sighing. "You aren’t gonna stop, are you?"

Subaru blinked up at me, his puppy eyes wide with innocence. He shook his head slowly, his face all but saying, Never.

I groaned inwardly. "Great. Just... go."

Subaru scampered off, the duffle bag practically glued to his chest like it was a precious treasure. As I watched him go, I suddenly felt a wave of regret wash over me. My stomach twisted as I thought about the decision I’d made. Was giving him the money the right thing to do? What if it all backfired? What if I should’ve just kept it and saved myself the headache?

The thoughts swirled in my head, each one more ridiculous than the last. I could’ve spent that money on a beach somewhere. No, wait—what about buying myself a nice car? A sports car? No… a condo!

I groaned out loud, feeling the stress build up. I was stuck between feeling like an idiot for giving away my hard-earned money and knowing deep down that it was probably the only decent thing I’d done in a long time.

By the time P.E. rolled around, I’d had enough of the constant back-and-forth in my head. I skipped the class entirely and headed straight for the nurse’s office, figuring I could rest and get my mind off things.

As I pushed open the door, I froze in the doorway. There, standing at the counter, was Haruna.

She didn’t turn when I walked in, her fingers lightly tracing over some papers she was organizing. I felt an awkward twinge—did she not realize it was me? Part of me wanted to speak up, but before I could say anything, she called out.

“Welcome to the nurse’s office,” she said, her tone calm but slightly distant. “What seems to be the problem?”

I blinked. She definitely hadn’t recognized me. She was treating me like any other student that wandered in here. Maybe that was for the best.

"Uh... I don’t feel well," I replied, a little too awkwardly.

Haruna paused for a second, as if she were trying to sense what kind of "not feeling well" I meant. "Not feeling well?" she asked, turning slightly in my direction. "You can take one of the beds. Go ahead and lie down if that helps."

Her calm, almost professional tone caught me off guard. I wasn’t used to being treated like some regular student. But I shrugged it off, nodding and heading over to the small bed near the window. The whole room had that faint medicinal smell that all nurse's offices seem to have, a weird mix of rubbing alcohol and something vaguely sweet. I plopped down on the bed, letting out a long sigh.

I shifted around, trying to get comfortable, but the nurse’s bed felt like it was stuffed with bricks. The kind of mattress that makes you think the school board bought it on sale from a prison clearance event. I tossed and turned, awkwardly trying to find a position that didn’t feel like it was going to snap my spine in half.

Still, I was determined to sleep off this day. I closed my eyes, breathing in and out, focusing on relaxing. My body finally started to sink into the bed.

But then, of course, my mind wouldn’t shut up.

You gave away 100 million yen, genius. My brain decided to remind me. You could’ve bought a car. Or a house. Or a lifetime supply of yakisoba bread.

I groaned, rolling onto my side, tugging the thin blanket over me like it would somehow block out my thoughts.

But you didn’t even think twice about it, I reminded myself. You did something good, didn’t you?

I sighed, knowing full well I wouldn’t let this go. One minute I was regretting it, and the next I was convincing myself it was the right thing. My mind was playing tug-of-war with my conscience, and there was no end in sight.

Just as I was about to give up on sleep entirely, Haruna’s voice drifted across the room.

"Is the bed uncomfortable?"

Her question caught me off guard. "Uh, yeah. A bit," I admitted, staring up at the ceiling. “Feels like I’m sleeping on a rock.”

Haruna let out a quiet laugh, the kind that you don’t expect to hear in such a sterile room. “Sorry about that. The nurse’s office isn’t known for its luxury accommodations.”

"Yeah, I can tell," I muttered. "What do you do if someone actually has to sleep here for a while?"

She smiled, her head tilting in my direction, though her gaze didn’t quite reach me. "They usually don’t come here for comfort."

I chuckled. She wasn’t wrong. “Well, I guess I’m not here for comfort either.”

There was a pause, and I wasn’t sure if she was going to say something else. I pulled the blanket up over my shoulders, trying to get comfortable again, but my mind was still buzzing. I could feel Haruna moving around the room, quietly going about her tasks. There was something oddly soothing about the sound of papers shuffling and the soft taps of her cane against the floor.

For a moment, I let myself imagine that this was just a normal day. That I wasn’t drowning in yakuza debts, that I hadn’t just given away all the money I’d saved for my future. That I could just be a high school student lying down in the nurse’s office, tired from gym class.

A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. Maybe for now, I could pretend. Just for a little while.

Haruna continued to move around the room, organizing supplies and quietly tidying up. The soft clinks of glass jars and the shuffle of papers filled the space, adding to the oddly peaceful atmosphere. Just when I thought the conversation had drifted into silence, she spoke up again.

“Your voice,” she said, her tone thoughtful. “It sounds… familiar. Have we met before?”

My stomach twisted. She was sharp, I’d give her that. I froze for a second, keeping my eyes fixed on the ceiling. For a moment, I considered lying—just brushing it off like any other awkward interaction. But something about the way she said it… there was a softness in her voice, like she wasn’t accusing me of anything, just genuinely curious.

I weighed my options. Telling her it was me, the same guy who had stepped in yesterday could complicate things. The last thing I wanted was to get involved in more questions, especially now, when I already had enough on my plate. But if I didn’t tell her… well, I didn’t like the idea of lying either.

“Uh…” I started, clearing my throat, buying myself a few extra seconds. “Maybe? I mean… I’ve been around.”

Smooth. Real smooth.

“You might have seen me around campus,” I added, hoping to steer the conversation back into safer territory. “But I guess I just have one of those forgettable voices.”

And then it hit me. I blinked, realizing my mistake. She’s blind, you idiot.

Without thinking, I smacked my palm to my forehead, groaning inwardly at my own stupidity. Luckily, Haruna couldn’t see me make the gesture, but the sound of my hand hitting my head wasn’t exactly subtle.

“Are you okay?” she asked, clearly confused.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, rubbing the spot where I’d hit myself. “Just, uh, forgot something for a second there.”

Haruna tilted her head slightly, as if trying to make sense of my sudden odd behavior, but she let it go with a soft smile. “I think I’d remember your voice, even if I haven’t seen you,” she said lightly.

I felt my face heat up again. Why did everything feel so awkward with her? It wasn’t like I had a problem with other people figuring me out, but with Haruna, it was different. Maybe because she was the only person I’d ever stepped in to help, or maybe because she didn’t see me like the others did—as some thug, some lowlife.

“Well, maybe we’ve crossed paths before,” I mumbled, trying to recover. “Campus isn’t that big, after all.”

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment press down on me. She was persistent in the most gentle way possible. I could feel her curiosity, but at the same time, she wasn’t pushing too hard.

Before I could decide how to respond, Haruna turned back to her work, almost as if she was letting me off the hook. “Well, either way, it’s nice to know someone else skips P.E.,” she added, her tone light and playful.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Yeah, well, not really my thing, you know?”

She smiled, and I could feel the tension between us ease a little. I hadn’t given her a straight answer, but she seemed to accept it, at least for now.

I stared up at the ceiling, my mind still running in circles. Her words, her voice—they felt calming in a way that didn’t quite make sense to me. Maybe it was because she didn’t know who I really was. Or maybe it was because she seemed to exist in a different world from mine, a quieter one, untouched by the weight of the life I carried.

“Thanks,” I said softly, surprising myself with how genuine I sounded.

Haruna tilted her head, clearly surprised by my sudden shift in tone. “For what?”

“For… not pushing,” I said, my voice trailing off. “Most people don’t really know when to back off.”

She smiled again, this time softer. “I understand. Sometimes, you just need space.”

For a second, I wanted to say more. I wanted to tell her who I was, to explain that I wasn’t just some random guy skipping class. I wanted to tell her about the yakuza, the money, the debts, the weight of everything that had been crushing me since I was a kid.

But instead, I just nodded, letting the silence settle between us once more.

She seemed content with that, going back to her quiet organizing, and I closed my eyes again, trying to relax.

Just as I felt myself start to drift off, Haruna spoke again, her voice soft and thoughtful.

“You remind me of someone I met once. Someone who helped me when I was in trouble.”

My eyes snapped open, but I stayed silent, waiting to see where she was going with this.

“He didn’t say much,” she continued, almost to herself now. “But he stepped in when no one else would. I’ve never forgotten that day. His name was Yuki.”

My heart skipped a beat. She remembered. Of course, she did. We had already exchanged names when we first met. She wasn’t just talking about some random guy; she was talking about me.

I shifted slightly under the blanket, trying to act casual. “Yuki, huh? Sounds like a good guy.”

Haruna let out a small laugh, and even though she couldn’t see me, I felt exposed, like she somehow knew I was dodging her, trying to stay hidden.

“He was,” she said quietly. “But what really stood out to me… was how different he was from other people. Most people either ignore me or treat me differently once they realize I’m blind. It’s like they feel sorry for me or don’t know how to act around me. But Yuki…” Her voice softened, and I could hear the warmth in her words. “…he didn’t pity me. He treated me like any other person, almost like he forgot I was blind half the time.”

I chuckled nervously, scratching the back of my head. “Sounds like he wasn’t the most observant guy.”

She smiled at that, letting out a soft laugh. “Maybe not. But that’s what I liked. For once, I didn’t feel like I was being handled with kid gloves. I didn’t feel like I was being treated differently because of my blindness. He didn’t act like I was fragile or needed special treatment—he just treated me like… well, like me. That’s what made him stand out.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected. All that time, I thought I’d messed up, fumbled my way through that whole encounter—asking her for directions like an idiot and only realizing she was blind after the fact. But to her, it was something else entirely. Something that made her feel normal, like she wasn’t defined by her condition.

Haruna continued, her voice growing a little softer. “People don’t usually see me that way. Even when they’re trying to be kind, there’s always this layer of pity, like they’re afraid I’ll break. But with Yuki… it wasn’t like that. He made me feel like I was just another person. I never got to thank him properly for that.”

I shifted uncomfortably under the blanket, feeling the weight of her words and the secret I was keeping. I thought maybe I could just stay quiet, that she didn’t need to know it was me. But hearing her talk about that day with such sincerity made me wonder if hiding was the right thing.

The silence stretched between us, and for a moment, I thought about telling her the truth. Telling her it was me. But as the thought crossed my mind, something held me back. I didn’t know if I was ready to let her see that part of me—the part that wasn’t just some guy who had helped her out of a bad situation but someone with a much darker side.

“Anyway,” she said after a moment, her voice lightening, “whoever he was, I’m glad he was there. People like that don’t come around often.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a smile, even though she couldn’t see it. “Yeah, well, sometimes we all end up in the right place at the right time.”

We sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, the sounds of the nurse’s office—a distant hum of machinery, the soft rustling of papers—filling the space. But I could feel a question burning at the back of my mind, and despite everything, I couldn’t help but ask it.

“You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to,” I started, shifting under the blanket, trying to sound casual, “but… I’ve been wondering. Is your blindness something you’ve always had?”

I wasn’t sure how she’d react. I didn’t want to offend her or make her uncomfortable, but I was curious. There was something about the way she carried herself—so independent, so calm—that made me forget, sometimes, about her condition.

Haruna didn’t seem bothered by the question. In fact, she took it in stride, like it was something she’d had to explain a thousand times before.

“I don’t mind,” she said softly. “It’s not a secret or anything. I wasn’t born blind, if that’s what you’re asking. I have corneal blindness. My vision started deteriorating when I was around ten.”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by how easily she said it. “Corn…? Corneal blindness?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s caused by damage to the cornea. It’s… well, I can’t see much now. Everything’s just a blur of shadows and light. But it wasn’t always like that. I used to be able to see clearly, just like anyone else.”

I watched her as she spoke, the way her fingers gently traced the edge of the desk, as if she were grounding herself in the details of the story.

“What happened?” I asked, my voice quieter now.

Haruna hesitated for a second, then continued. “It was an accident. Something happened when I was younger, and the damage couldn’t be reversed. They told me I could get a transplant, but those things take a long time. And even then, there’s no guarantee it’ll work.”

Her voice was calm, but I could feel the weight of what she was saying. She wasn’t just talking about losing her sight—she was talking about losing a part of her life, a future where she might’ve seen the world differently.

“I’ve learned to live with it,” she said after a pause. “It was hard at first, but… you get used to it. You learn to adapt.”

I found myself staring at her, trying to understand how someone could just adapt to something like that. It felt impossible, but here she was, standing in front of me, quietly organizing supplies in a nurse’s office, as if she’d made peace with the whole thing.

“That’s… a lot to deal with,” I muttered, not sure what else to say.

Haruna smiled softly, a slight shrug of her shoulders. “I guess so. But life isn’t always fair, right? Sometimes you just have to work with what you’ve got.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected. The idea of adapting, of just accepting things as they were—it was something I hadn’t fully grasped yet. For me, everything was about survival, about fighting the system, pushing back against the circumstances I’d been thrown into. But here she was, talking about finding peace in something I couldn’t imagine living with.

“Do you ever think about the surgery?” I asked. “The transplant, I mean.”

Haruna’s smile faded slightly, and she turned her head toward the window, even though I knew she couldn’t see out of it. “Sometimes. But it’s complicated. The waiting list is long, and my case isn’t exactly an emergency. Besides… I’ve learned to navigate the world like this. It’s not so bad.”

“But don’t you want to see again?” I asked, my voice quieter this time.

She paused, her expression thoughtful. “Of course I do. But I don’t focus on what I’ve lost. I focus on what I can still do.”

Her words sank in, and I found myself feeling strangely humbled. She was handling something so massive with such calmness, and here I was, barely keeping it together with my own problems. I scratched the back of my head, feeling awkward again.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “Didn’t mean to get so personal.”

Haruna shook her head gently, the soft smile returning to her lips. “It’s okay. I don’t mind talking about it. In fact… I’m glad someone asked.”

I lay there for a moment longer, the weight of everything swirling in my head. I couldn’t help but feel a strange respect for her—not just because of how she dealt with her blindness, but because of how she accepted it. How she carried it like it was just another part of her, not something that defined her.

“Thanks for telling me,” I said quietly. “I… I guess I needed to hear that.”

Haruna turned toward me again, her calm expression never faltering. “We all have things to deal with, right? You’re no different.”

Her words echoed in my mind, and I felt a strange sense of clarity in that moment. Maybe she was right. Maybe we were all just trying to navigate through the mess of life, each in our own way.

Just as I started to relax, the door to the nurse’s office flew open.

“Boss!”

I jolted up, my eyes snapping open to see Subaru crashing into the room like a tornado. His voice echoed loudly, instantly breaking the calm.

Haruna looked up, startled by the noise. She couldn't see who was coming in, but she was definitely caught off guard by the sudden interruption.

“Boss!” Subaru skidded to a stop beside the bed, panting, completely oblivious to the atmosphere. “I heard you weren’t feeling well! I came straight here!”

I blinked, trying to make sense of what was happening. How the hell did he even know where I was? I motioned for him to tone it down, but as usual, Subaru missed the memo.

“I’m fine,” I muttered through clenched teeth, throwing a quick glance at Haruna, who was now fully paying attention, though she didn’t say anything. She had that polite, confused look that told me she was trying to piece together what was going on.

“Are you sure, Boss? You don’t look great—wait, lemme check.” Subaru leaned over, ready to fuss over me like a mother hen, which was about the last thing I needed. I slapped his hand away, feeling my face heat up in embarrassment. “I said I’m fine!”

Completely unfazed, Subaru finally seemed to notice Haruna standing near the counter. He blinked, processing the situation. “Wait… Oh! You’re Haruna, right?” His voice was too loud, his enthusiasm too much.

I gritted my teeth. “Subaru,” I warned, trying to signal to him to stop and leave, but of course, that flew right over his head.

“Oh, right, Boss,” Subaru said, suddenly remembering why he was here. He leaned down, practically whispering but loud enough that anyone could hear, "I found a way to double our money.”

At this point, I’d had enough. I grabbed him by the back of his collar and dragged him toward the door. “Subaru, let’s go,” I hissed, pushing him out before he could make the situation worse.

Haruna stayed quiet, her head slightly tilted as she listened to the chaos unfolding around her. A faint smile played on her lips, as if she found the entire situation mildly entertaining.

Once we were out in the hallway, I shoved Subaru lightly forward, watching him stumble a little. He turned around, looking sheepish. “What?” he asked, as if he hadn’t just embarrassed me in front of someone who didn’t need to witness that chaos.

“What do you mean, ‘what’? Why are you here?” I muttered, glancing back at the door to make sure Haruna hadn’t overheard everything.

“Boss, I was worried about you,” Subaru said, his tone dead serious. “I also found a way to double our money.”

I sighed, rubbing the back of my head, not even processing what he was saying. “You really need to learn when to back off. I’m fine. Next time, just… don’t come crashing in like that.”

Subaru’s eyes widened. “But Boss, I couldn’t just—”

I raised a hand to stop him. “Enough Now go.”

Subaru stared at me, clearly wanting to argue, but finally understanding that I wasn’t in the mood. “Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “But I’ll be back, Boss. You know I’ve got your—”

I froze mid-step, his words finally registering. “Wait... you did what?”