Late August in Sapporo, and the morning air had already shed the oppressive heat of midsummer.
Compared to Tokyo’s suffocating stickiness and dampness, the northern wind carried a dry, cool sharpness, tinged with a hint of early autumn’s melancholy.
Kaoru Hoshitani and Aina Saiten dragged their simple luggage, following the sparse flow of passengers out of a small, unattended station on the outskirts of Sapporo.
Along the way, they had followed the route Chika had planned, transferring to a limited express at New Hakodate-Hokuto, deliberately avoiding transportation hubs like New Chitose Airport and Sapporo Station that were crawling with surveillance cameras and informants, before finally getting off here.
After a full night of bumpy travel, they had finally reached their destination.
The “safe house” Chika had arranged wasn’t some high-security luxury apartment, but an older, ordinary monthly-rent apartment building hidden in a residential neighborhood on the city’s outskirts.
The exterior walls were tiled in grayish-white ceramic, the bulletin board downstairs displayed neighborhood association disaster prevention notices, and the air carried that peculiar, quiet sense of daily life unique to older residential districts.
Outside the window, the occasional low caw of crows could be heard in the distance.
Aina Saiten held Kaoru Hoshitani’s hand as they walked into the slightly cramped management office on the first floor.
“Hello, we’re here to pick up the key…” Aina Saiten spoke cautiously.
“Oh, you must be Ms. Saita and Mr. Hoshitani, right?”
The front desk manager was a kindly-looking, slightly farsighted middle-aged woman.
She adjusted her glasses, checked the memo in her hand, and handed over a key with a wooden tag attached:
“The short-term rental paperwork has all been handled online by your referral. You two can move in directly. The referral specifically mentioned that you both need a quiet environment to rest, so as long as you don’t press the call bell, I absolutely won’t come up to bother you. The garbage sorting guide is posted behind the door. Please take care.”
“Thank you.”
Aina Saiten took the key and led Kaoru Hoshitani into the somewhat narrow elevator.
As the elevator doors closed, Aina Saiten let out a long, silent sigh of relief. But at the same time, that faint sense of wrongness lingering in her heart began to spread slowly but uncontrollably, like a drop of ink seeping into clear water.
…
“Click.”
The key turned, opening the anti-theft door on the third floor.
The scene inside came into view.
Behind the door was a densely printed Sapporo Household Waste Classification Chart, its color coding looking like some kind of complicated mine-clearing manual.
Aina Saiten stared at it for a few seconds, then decided to pretend she hadn’t seen it for now.
Hanging nearby was a transparent plastic umbrella left behind by a previous tenant or the landlord, one of its ribs eerily snapped.
Aina Saiten silently assessed it and reached a definite conclusion:
If they ever needed to bolt out the door again, this broken umbrella was absolutely useless.
Walking further in, this was a standard Japanese single-person apartment.
One bedroom, one living room. Clean, tidy, with ordinary wooden flooring and a light gray fabric sofa.
One of the coffee table’s legs seemed slightly uneven.
Kaoru Hoshitani walked over, and his knee barely grazed the edge. That wooden coffee table immediately let out a dull, dragging “creak——”
In this dead-silent room, the noise was startlingly loud. Both of them, already on edge, froze in place, their breathing halted for two full seconds.
Only after confirming there was no movement outside the door did they exchange a relieved glance. Kaoru Hoshitani awkwardly pulled his leg back.
Morning sunlight filtered through the translucent white curtains into the living room, and the air carried a faint scent of the lemon air freshener commonly found in convenience stores.
Aina Saiten set down her luggage and checked the restroom.
On the washbasin sat several sets of generic-brand body wash and shampoo sets bought from a nearby drugstore.
Opening the wardrobe, a few basic solid-color hoodies, sweatpants, and one-size-fits-all underwear and socks hung inside.
The sizes were all the most common L. Kaoru Hoshitani tried on a gray hoodie, and the sleeves were so long they covered his fingertips, the collar loose and baggy—he looked like a kid who’d stolen an adult’s clothes. But it was warm enough.
Opening the small single-door fridge, accompanied by a somewhat aged humming from the motor, it was stocked with a few bundles of greens, two cartons of eggs, several cups of instant noodles, frozen dumplings, and a few large bottles of mineral water.
As the fridge door closed, the old machine let out a dissatisfied “gurgle” from deep within, as if voicing an opinion.
On the coffee table was an envelope containing enough cash to last the two of them two to three weeks.
Not much, but enough to keep them from starving before they found temporary work.
“Buzz——”
Just then, the black prepaid phone in Kaoru Hoshitani’s pocket gave a faint vibration.
Kaoru Hoshitani whipped out the phone, and Aina Saiten immediately leaned in.
On the screen was a restrained new message from Chika:
[You’ve arrived at the apartment, right? Get some rest first. It’s just an ordinary short-term rental I had someone find. It was too rushed and the conditions are basic. Sorry I could only arrange this much on short notice.]
[For safety’s sake, I won’t proactively contact you unless necessary. Absolutely do not use ID-linked transit cards or credit cards, and don’t contact anyone you know in Tokyo.]
[If you truly run into trouble and need help, contact me on this number. Wishing you both safety.]
After reading the message, Kaoru Hoshitani let out a long breath of relief, as if a thousand-pound burden had been lifted from his shoulders, his eyes brimming with profound gratitude.
But Aina Saiten, standing behind him, looked at those polite, well-mannered lines on the screen, then at the neatly stacked cash on the coffee table, and cold sweat slowly seeped from her palms.
Everything was too smooth.
Aina Saiten stared hard at that rickety coffee table that let out “creaks,” her intuition throbbing painfully at the back of her mind.
Everything was too meticulous.
Short-term rental paperwork that didn’t require personal verification, a prepaid phone, the warning to avoid ID-linked transit cards.
Chika had preemptively filled every possible gap that could expose them, and done it so cleanly, without even a single word of unnecessary concern.
Aina Saiten knew something was wrong, yet she couldn’t find a single piece of evidence she could voice.
All her suspicions, in the face of Chika’s flawless “kindness,” seemed like nothing more than an ungrateful, dark-hearted speculation.
“Kazune…” Aina Saiten bit her lip, and finally couldn’t hold back. She spoke carefully, “Don’t you think… Chika arranged everything too perfectly? It’s all so smooth… it scares me a little. Can we really trust her without reservation?”
The moment the words left her mouth, Aina Saiten’s heart leaped to her throat.
However, the defense and rebuttal she’d expected never came.
“Thud.” Kaoru Hoshitani gently placed the black phone on the coffee table. He didn’t argue, didn’t raise his voice. He simply collapsed into the ordinary fabric sofa like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
“Aina Onee-san…” The boy looked up at her. Those once-beautiful eyes were now shot through with crimson blood vessels, and beneath them was a bone-deep exhaustion, as if his soul had been completely drained dry.
“Maybe… she’s just afraid something will happen to us.”
He covered his face with both hands, his thin shoulders trembling slightly inside that oversized hoodie. “Aina Onee-san… can we… just not think about all this today?”
“Kazune…” Aina Saiten froze, her heart clenching painfully.
“I really… am so tired.” Kaoru Hoshitani lowered his hands, his exhausted gaze meeting Aina Saiten’s. “…As long as we can stay alive together… can everything else wait until tomorrow?”
That weak plea was more devastating than any screaming argument.
It was like a gentle blunt knife, slicing through every defense Aina Saiten had built in her heart.
Looking at the boy’s pitiful state, drained of all strength by the flight and terror, seeing that desperate craving for peace he’d finally revealed after escaping Tokyo, Aina Saiten felt her throat tighten with emotion.
Yes, Kazune had exhausted every ounce of his strength in this ordeal.
Right now, all he needed was a buffer period to catch his breath.
Even if something unknown lurked behind this safe haven, how could she bear to shatter the peace he’d so desperately grasped, right at this moment?
“I’m sorry, Kazune.” Aina Saiten took a deep breath, forcing all her doubts and unease back down her throat. She walked over, sat down beside him on the sofa, and gently pulled him into her arms, softly stroking his hair. “I was too tense. You’re right. We won’t think about it. You’re safe now. That’s enough.”
“Mhm…”
Kaoru Hoshitani buried his face in the crook of her neck, letting out a long, deep sigh like a stray cat that had finally found its nest.
…
Night fell.
The outskirts of Sapporo were so quiet that only the occasional passing night wind could be heard.
The two washed away their exhaustion and grime with the generic body wash from the drugstore in a hot shower.
The master bedroom held an ordinary double bed, the sheets smelling of cheap laundry detergent’s artificial floral scent.
Kaoru Hoshitani turned off the bedside lamp.
The entire room sank into deep darkness.
Kaoru Hoshitani pressed tightly against Aina Saiten, curling himself completely into her embrace.
For the first time in weeks, he didn’t tremble when closing his eyes. For the first time in the dark, he didn’t smell Rika Kawasaki’s suffocating perfume.
“Aina Onee-san…” The boy’s voice in the darkness was soft and gentle, carrying a pure innocence that came from finally dropping all his defenses.
“Mhm? I’m here!” Aina Saiten gently patted his back.
“Tonight… we… don’t have to be scared, right?”
Hearing that whisper full of hope and dependence, Aina Saiten’s heart melted into a puddle of tenderness, and her eyes welled up with tears.
To keep that promise, to protect this one peaceful night of sleep for him, Aina Saiten was willing to numb herself, willing to suppress every instinct screaming danger in her heart.
“Mhm.” Aina Saiten tightened her arms around him and kissed his forehead in the darkness. “No more fear. Sleep now, Kazune.”
“Thank you… for still being willing to take me with you.” The boy murmured, his breathing gradually becoming steady and deep.
He finally fell into a heavy, peaceful sleep in this distant northern night.