As the city slowly rises from its nightmare, Mitakihara’s streets remain surprisingly empty at night. The convenience stores and gas stations that used to draw in nightwalkers like moths to a flame still haven’t returned to their usual 24/7 opening hours, leaving the small hours of the morning the exclusive terrain of people trying to make their way home after a tremendous mistake.

One young man stumbling down the main road through Akazawa ward doesn’t feel like he has made a tremendous mistake, however. Supported by two of his colleagues, his suit disheveled, neck tie undone and hair drenched in sweat, he raises his voice in a half-screamed, half-sung approximation of a popular song.

Salaryman: Bubble gum, bubble gum! La la la laaaa la chewing bubble gum!

Salaryman #2: Shhh… Keep it down! Do you have any idea… w-what time it is? People are trying to sleep!

Embarrassed, the man carrying the drunken troubadour’s left arm on his shoulder tries to calm down his colleague, as if trying to put one foot in front of the other through the dimly-lit snow and the drunken haze isn’t hard enough already. When his colleague trips over his own feet and nearly slips in the snow, he is unable to support the man’s weight, and they both take a tumble. While the drunken man immediately breaks out into a laughing fit at his own misfortune, his colleague isn’t so enthused.

Salaryman #2: Damn it, you useless— You know you can’t hold your liquor! What would you’ve done if we hadn’t been here to see you home, huh?

As the two men in the snow struggle to get back onto their feet, the third member of their group finds his train of thought derailing, from pitying their gullibility to yearning for the gullibility he once had as well. He can’t remember the first time he had to be dragged out of a bar in a drunken stupor, back to his miniscule apartment. He can only hope his juniors will cherish these moments when they can still enjoy them.

Salaryman #2: We’re so sorry for inconveniencing you, Shirahara-senpai. What a terrible first impression we must be making.

Akihiko Shirahara reached out a hand to his junior with a wry smile.

Akihiko: That’s… part of the job. And… you oughtn’t call me “senpai”. We’re of equal standing, believe it or not.

It is embarrassing to admit. These boys have not yet been with the company for a year, while Akihiko has recently celebrated his fifty-second birthday. And yet, he is speaking the truth. Things used to be different, at some point. He could tell them, but he has never had a way with words. After all, that is why he is here in the first place.

He wonders what they are thinking. About him, but also about this — what is happening as they lie there in the snow, like children. Akihiko abhors going out for drinks after work. It is a hazing ritual, a pantomime no one truly enjoys. Not his male colleagues drinking themselves into a stupor because they cannot afford to turn down another round. Not his female colleagues, forcing smiles as they serve their co-workers another cup of cheap sake. Not even his superiors, who only subject him to this because their superiors used to subject them to the same thing. But he cannot refuse. He cannot afford to turn down another night of shadowplay, just like how he can’t afford to be late or can’t afford to refuse working overtime for the company’s sake. He hasn’t seen his wife and children in days.

Salaryman: Bubble gum! Bubble gum!

Salaryman #2: Could you at least sing literally any other song?

Akihiko: (with a sigh, he takes out his phone) I’m calling a taxi. You wait here.

Salaryman #2: A taxi? A-Are you sure that’s a good idea, Mr. Shirahara—

Akihiko: I will reimburse you. I will take care of it. 

He realizes he can’t seem to remember the names of these men. He doesn’t know how to talk to them properly. Hikari once suggested talking to his doctor about it. If they could help Koharu, they could help him, too. But he just doesn’t have the time—

Bang.

A sudden, loud noise pierces through the darkness. A dog starts barking, then falls quiet. Behind some windows, the light flicks on. Then, silence.

Salaryman #2: … W-What was that?

Akihiko: … Must be someone setting off fireworks.

No. It sounded too close for that. If it was fireworks, they would have seen something. Besides, New Year’s Day was two weeks ago. He gestures at his colleagues to stay put.

Akihiko: Wait here… I’m going to have a look.

Salaryman #2: You think… it was actually something? W-Wait, this seems like a bad idea. We should call the police, right?

Salaryman: Police? I don’t wanna go to jail!

The two start bickering again. He ignores them — tries to ignore them as his legs carry him towards the source of the noise — or at least what he believes the source to be. What is he even doing? He can barely walk, let alone see, wading through the fresh snow and his terribly stale own exhaustion. He’s been drunk so many times. Too many times. No one who’s been drunk as often as he has has any reason to let it do something as stupid as what he’s doing now.

He trunks the corner, into an alleyway, letting his instincts guide him. Around another corner. There’s something lying on the ground, in the snow. Someone. He turns on his phone’s flashlight and shines it down onto his discovery, lying in a puddle of red snow. He curses, quickly crouching down next to the wounded man. He isn’t moving, his arms frozen still as they clutch the bullet wound on his chest. A pinprick. 

He has to stop the bleeding, but the last time he thought about first aid must have been when he was in college. The man doesn’t react. Akihiko reaches for his phone, tries to unlock it — it slips out of his hands — but he manages. He succeeds. He reaches the police even though he can’t remember remembering what number to call in an emergency. They tell him to calm down. They tell him to stay put. Within minutes, he sees flickering blue and red lights and hears sirens closing in on him.

He knows it is too late. What he doesn’t know is that this won’t be the last time they are. Because this time, there was a bang.