When Kitagawa Ryo woke up, it was already close to 6:30 PM. Groggy, he noticed the video call was still connected. After rubbing his eyes and looking again, Shiina Hiyori on the other side abruptly hung up the call like a startled little bunny. The screen was left with nothing but a call duration—3 hours and 49 minutes.
"Sorry, I fell asleep just now."
Ryo sent the message. Sleeping with his head on the table wasn't comfortable, and it had left a noticeable mark on his face, but he felt much better after the nap. He stood up and stretched.
"It's okay, I fell asleep too."
Hiyori replied. Maybe it was the intimate nature of their earlier conversation, but both seemed to need some time to calm down and process everything. They ended the call with silent mutual understanding.
A blood-red sunset was slowly sinking between Tokyo's tall buildings. Kitagawa Ryo stepped out of the private room and walked toward the street bathed in its light. His steps were slow, but gradually, his figure shrank until it disappeared entirely into the fiery afterglow.
Back at the hotel, as Ryo headed for the elevator, the receptionist called out to him. He'd been staying there for several days, so the staff recognized him.
"Kitagawa-san, you've got... a cat."
It was probably their first time handling such an unusual delivery. Still, they dutifully brought out a cardboard box. Inside was Hotaru. The moment she saw Ryo, she leapt into his arms.
Agile as ever, she darted past the counter's decor without knocking over a single vase or plant. She landed happily in his embrace.
Ryo looked into her big, watery eyes and couldn't stay cold. He reached out to pet her head with his right hand and took the box with the other.
"Thanks."
Peeking into the box, he asked hesitantly:
"Did she leave a note or message?"
"Oh, the young lady said her family had dinner plans tonight and might be home late. She didn't want to leave the cat alone, so she asked if she could come retrieve it later tonight or tomorrow morning."
"...I see."
Ryo nodded and brought Hotaru and the box back to his room by elevator.
The moment they entered, Hotaru sprang from his arms to the bedside table, then leapt onto the soft bed covers. She flopped onto her back, legs sprawled out in a shameless sprawl.
Ryo ignored her antics and headed into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and began planning dinner.
When you're feeling down, eat well—something Ryo had learned long ago.
Spotting a bag of cleaned shrimp, he decided to make shrimp dumplings.
The kitchen was well-stocked. He grabbed wheat starch and cornstarch from the cupboard, added salt, mixed with boiling water, and let it steam for five minutes. He sautéed some corn as a substitute for bamboo shoots.
Once the dough formed, he kneaded in lard until it was smooth. Hotaru, remembering the rule not to enter the kitchen, obediently sat outside watching. Every time the dough hit the board with a loud smack, her ears twitched in surprise.
He rinsed the shrimp, minced them with the flat of his knife, cooked them briefly, and set them aside. Only then did he step out to grab a can of iced coffee, drinking it in big gulps.
Hotaru took her chance and pawed at his pant leg with a pitiful look.
Ryo petted her head and realized there was no cat food in the hotel. He wondered if cats could eat shrimp dumplings, then dismissed the idea. He'd toss one to her later and see if she liked it.
After washing his hands, Ryo picked up the pace. He mixed the shrimp paste, corn, scallions, MSG, salt, and sugar for the filling and chilled it briefly. Then he shaped the dough into wrappers and stuffed them.
He made a few standard dumplings, then experimented with odd shapes. Some turned out terribly deformed, but all went into the steamer.
On the table, most of the dumplings looked translucent and appetizing. He made dipping sauce—even though chili sauce with shrimp dumplings was "heresy," Ryo only cared about what made him happy when eating alone.
He didn't feel like watching TV. His phone was charging on the nightstand. Hotaru smartly chose a chair instead of the table, watching him eat with soulful eyes.
"Pfft."
Seeing her pitiful gaze almost tear up, Ryo chuckled.
Hotaru grew bolder, hopping onto his shoulder and nuzzling him affectionately.
Ryo didn't tease her. He picked up two dumplings with his chopsticks and placed them on the table. She gobbled them down in an instant, then licked her paws and mouth.
She really was the kind of cat who got cuter the longer you looked.
Ryo stopped eating and just watched her. He'd heard that anime girls were designed based on cats—large eyes, small noses, and mouths.
As he leaned closer, Hotaru grew flustered and licked his hand, nuzzling his fingers.
"I'm still eating, you know."
Despite the words, Ryo showed no sign of annoyance. Instead, he gathered Hotaru into his arms.
"Hotaru, do you think I'm pathetic...?"
He stroked the fur under her chin. A few gentle scratches there always made her squint with contentment.
But today, she kept her jewel-like eyes wide open, puzzled.
She didn't understand what her owner was doing. Ever since she'd been picked up on that rainy night six months ago, this was the first time she'd seen him like this.
Usually, Kitagawa Ryo was calm, always smiling by default. Sometimes he wrote letters late into the night, sometimes laughed to himself, sometimes purposely overfilled the food bowl...
But never like this.
Hotaru instinctively licked the liquid trailing down his face. It shimmered beautifully—but tasted bitter and salty.
"Meow...?"
-------------------------------------
Kitagawa Ryo heard the knock at the door precisely at 10:30 PM.
When he opened it, it was—just as expected—Karuizawa Kei.
She stood there in a long black dress, just like yesterday. The only difference was her lips, now adorned with a light red gloss, as if she had deliberately freshened up before coming. When Ryo glanced at the vivid crimson on her lips, an inexplicable mix of sadness and revulsion welled up in him.
Ryo said nothing, and Kei merely stood there nervously. She looked like a newly released prisoner, lost outside the gates of a jail, unsure where to go. Eventually, flustered, she broke the silence first:
"Hotaru... she's here with you, right?"
Once silence was broken, it lost its power. Ryo sighed and turned to fetch Hotaru, but before he could take a step, Kei had already slipped off her shoes, put on the guest slippers, and followed him inside.
The ticking of the wall clock echoed through the room like a traveler marching alone. The sound magnified the silence. Kei walked into the living room, pulled a fresh red rose from her bag, and seemed to search for the right place to put it.
"Where'd you get it?"
Ryo finally composed himself enough to ask naturally.
"A flower stall downstairs. The last one. The vendor gave it to me for free, said it wouldn't be fresh by tomorrow."
Kei spoke with a sense of relief, as if she'd just been pardoned. She looked around the room, searching for a home for the rose.
"Do you have an empty vase? I heard if you change the water often, it can last a few more days."
Ryo went to one of the side rooms, recalling there were some decorative bottles by the window. Kei trailed behind him closely, like a little dog with a bell on its collar. Ryo could almost hear it jingling.
Sure enough, they found a suitable vase. Kei placed the rose inside and set it on the coffee table. The sudden addition of the flower seemed to brighten the entire room.
"I heard that after Valentine's Day, the trash bins of Tokyo turn into rose gardens."
Kei propped her chin on her hands and looked at the rose.
"Used, then discarded."
Ryo reached out to touch the rose. Hotaru, perched on his shoulder, seemed utterly uninterested in the vibrant, thornless flower—not even bothering to sniff it.
"Have you heard the story of the Valentine's Day rose?"
Outside, it had begun to rain softly, as if accompanying the ticking clock in a synchronized walk.
"A high school boy bought a large bouquet of roses for his girlfriend on Valentine's Day. Before heading out, on a whim, he gave one to his father and one to his grandfather, joking that they should give it to their wives—his mother and grandmother.
The father and grandfather had never done such a thing before. The grandfather didn't even know what roses on Valentine's Day were supposed to mean. They both felt embarrassed and said, 'We've been married so long already—this kind of young people stuff doesn't suit us.'
But they gave the roses anyway. The father offered his to his wife in the kitchen. The grandfather brought his to his wife, sick in the hospital. To their surprise, both women joyfully accepted the flowers.
Meanwhile, the big bouquet the high school boy gave to his girlfriend was left in the hotel room they rented and was thrown out by the cleaning staff.
The rose the father gave was carefully tended in a vase and stayed fresh for a week.
The rose the grandfather gave was dried and made into a sachet. He still carries it close to his heart."
Ryo recited the story simply. He remembered it from a random short story he'd read years ago.
After finishing, he took the rose out of the vase. Water dripped across the table, but he didn't care.
"This is for you."
Ryo handed the rose to Kei.
"Eh...? But I just gave it to you."
Kei was visibly surprised. She hesitated, unsure whether to accept it. The meaning of a red rose from a boy to a girl—Ryo surely knew. Yet he offered it with such ease, like handing over a piece of candy.
"Maybe I just don't like seeing roses wither in front of me. And I don't know how to make sachets."
Ryo half-joked. The stem was smoothed of its thorns, and he firmly pressed it into her hand.
"It's raining. You should head back. Uehara Emika was arrested this afternoon for the murder of her father. You don't have to worry anymore..."
Kei held the rose. Its crimson hue made the skin of her fingers and arms look ghostly pale. Her figure seemed to shrink, her voice dissolving into the sound of the night rain.
"I... I brought a change of clothes."
Ryo heard her say that. Her eyes looked dry, yet desperate—like a plant on the verge of withering.
Hotaru rolled over, utterly baffled by what these two humans were doing.