Setsuna couldn't remember the last time she'd had a proper conversation with her husband.
She couldn't remember when they stopped eating together, walking together, or sharing a bed. The end of their small, certain happiness was a blur.
She had never been one for profanity, but in this moment, facing Ryohei, she wanted to scream every curse word she knew, aimed squarely at the couple that had ruined her life.
She had hoped Ryohei would be her ally, that they could huddle together for warmth and find a way to save their families.
At the very least, couldn't he join her in cursing his wife?! But Ryohei's "not my problem" attitude destroyed her last humble wish.
His look of relief and his eyes, as calm as still water, made her inexplicably angry and jealous.
Why am I so useless? Why can I only think of Haruki? Why can't I leave him?
As a thirty-something adult, she knew rationally that walking away was the best move. But knowing wasn't the same as doing. She was a traditional, "good" woman who placed her husband at the center of her universe, and now she was covered in wounds.
"Mrs. Kitahara, please calm down. People are staring. I'm single, so I don't care, but you should watch your image."
Ryohei caught her wrists and shook her, trying to snap her out of it. He felt a twinge of sympathy.
She was a good woman, perhaps too good; he wondered if it was her suffocating, neurotic love that pushed her husband away in the first place. Of course, a cheater is still a cheater.
"Calm down?! How can I be calm?! Kazusa is probably with Haruki right now! I couldn't reach him all night!"
"Can we stop talking about her? We're divorced. I don't care!" Ryohei brushed her off.
It was annoying; every time she spoke, she was essentially reminding him of his "green hat."
"Ha! Look at you, still making excuses for her! You still care!" Setsuna stepped forward, almost pressing against him, grabbing his collar with a crazed laugh.
"Instead of my ex-wife, let's talk about you, Mrs. Kitahara. Look at yourself. You look..." Ryohei pushed her back. He wasn't a blushing teenager; he was an adult.
"Me? What about me?! I was fine until your wife seduced my man!!"
Ryohei gave up on logic. He grabbed her arm and dragged her toward a parked red Maybach.
"Look at you. Forget the lack of makeup... when was the last time you washed your face? You've had a hard time, haven't you?"
Setsuna caught a glimpse of herself in the car's side mirror. Her face, once her pride, was stained with dried tears, and the crow's feet around her eyes were visible. It was hideous.
"I didn't have time to wash..." she whispered, her heart aching.
"And your hair!" Ryohei continued relentlessly.
"It smells. I could smell the stench when you lunged at me. When a woman lets herself go this much, she needs to do some self-reflection."
"You!"
"Listen to me. Go home. Take a bath. Sleep."
Ryohei saw her resolve softening and pushed harder.
"Why don't you just get a divorce, too? Honestly, you aren't any worse than Kazusa; you just don't love yourself. Get a divorce, take some time to recover, and you'll find a man who actually likes you."
"Divorce..." Setsuna muttered the word as if she were lost. Coming from Ryohei, it made her actually consider the possibility.
She felt a wave of exhaustion. She wanted a broad chest to lean on, just for a moment, to fill the void in her heart.
While she was dazed, Ryohei hailed a taxi and shoved her inside.
He couldn't stand her "negative energy" a moment longer.
"Is that how you thought when you divorced Kazusa?" she asked, her chin tilted up.
"Didn't you use to love her more than anything?"
"Fine, fine, I loved her! Whatever! But I don't anymore! Your business is none of my concern."
Ryohei slammed the door, gave the driver an address, and waved goodbye as the taxi pulled away.
*****
Ten days had passed in this alternate world. It had been about a week since the encounter with the "bad luck woman," Setsuna. Ryohei had integrated into daily life faster than expected.
He discovered that the original Ryohei's residue habits, like patting Komachi's head or wanting to lecture Hachiman about his "dead-fish eyes," actually helped him maintain his cover.
He finally received his unemployment benefit: 150,000 Yen. Combined with his current cash, he had about 300,000 Yen ($2,000).
For a family of three, that was barely two months of survival.
Especially with school starting. Enrollment fees for both kids totaled 100,000 Yen.
To the old Ryohei who earned 7 million a year, this was pocket change.
To the new Ryohei, it was a crisis.
One morning, after a simple breakfast, Ryohei and Hachiman set off to find part-time work. As they left the apartment, Hachiman paused to watch his father's back.
The boy, sensitive and cynical, noticed a change.
His father used to spend all day sighing over photos of "Mom" or staring gloomily at job listings.
Now, his father seemed weary, yes, but also... different.
Because of his "dead-fish eyes," Hachiman had endured countless lectures from a man whose face used to be a permanent map of "misery." But Hachiman blinked, thinking back on the last ten days. Since his father woke up, he had changed.
It was a change for the better. He no longer lost his temper over Hachiman's gaze. He experimented with new recipes. He shaved his stubble clean. Despite his weakened state, he took low-end jobs he once would have looked down upon, working as a manual laborer despite being a prestigious university graduate and a former elite white-collar worker.
Then Hachiman thought of the family photo that had vanished from the table. Last night, Komachi whispered that Dad had packed it away with the rest of the "useless clutter" to be thrown out.
Komachi had secretly retrieved it from the trash and hidden it away.
To Hachiman, that act felt like a final declaration, the days of Mom, Dad, and the two of them being a family were gone forever.
"It's all Mom's fault... things like 'youth' and 'romance'... if you just stay away and reject them, you won't get hurt!"
Standing on the pristine street, Hachiman felt as if the wind were kicking up dust; he watched his father's receding back, and tears fell quickly.
He wiped them away fast, terrified his father or anyone else would see.
*****
"Welcome! Ah, Mr. Hikigaya, you're early." At a convenience store two blocks away, a brisk, energetic girl greeted Ryohei politely.
"A man my age has a family to feed, so I have to be early. But you, Aoyama, you're young, yet you seem to have much more drive than I do."
"Ha, is that so?"
Ryohei had found this part-time cashier job two days ago.
He was on probation, earning 750 Yen per hour. Initially, the manager hesitated to hire a man in his thirties.
But when he saw the alma mater on Ryohei's resume, Tokyo Gakugei University, his hesitation turned into pity.
A man with that background, reduced to this... Out of sympathy or perhaps because Ryohei seemed reliable, he got the job.
Ryohei planned to stick with it for now; he couldn't just sit around and watch his savings vanish. If the previous Ryohei hadn't signed away his right to claim child support, he might have even considered tracking down Kazusa for money.
That simp... forget it! I won't talk about him!
The work was easy for a seasoned adult like him.
He shared shifts with a girl named Nanami Aoyama.
Ryohei found her name poetic and pleasant to say.