The walk from the hospital was, as usual, suffocating.
Ren moved through the crowd as if carried by a current that did not belong to him. Rushed footsteps, overlapping voices, phones pressed to ears, faces tense with urgency. Everyone was going somewhere. Everyone seemed to know exactly where.
"Where do people go all day…?" he murmured, not expecting an answer.
The sounds of the city irritated him more than usual. Horns, traffic lights, doors closing too quickly. It felt as if Tokyo never stopped—and as if he was always falling behind.
When he reached the hospital entrance, the sliding doors opened automatically with a mechanical sound, too clean, too precise. The air inside was cold and sterile. A faint scent of disinfectant invaded his senses, triggering a familiar feeling of discomfort.
The reception area looked the same as always.
"Good morning, Ren. You're here," said the nurse at the entrance with a routine, almost professional smile.
Ren lifted his gaze to her without hurry.
"Yeah… here again," he replied flatly, as if repeating a line he had said too many times.
He pulled out the envelope of money and held it in his hand.
"Can I pay here, or… as usual, at the cashier?"
The nurse let out a soft laugh.
"You know the rules, Ren. Second door on the left. It hasn't moved," she said, smiling again.
But Ren couldn't return even the faintest smile.
He didn't answer. He simply nodded and headed toward the cashier.
"Good day," the woman there said, looking up. "Sir—"
Ren held out the money.
"Yes, I already know. Third floor, room fourteen. Thank you."
The cashier looked like she wanted to say something. Maybe a polite phrase. Maybe a word of encouragement. But Ren had already turned away.
He climbed the stairs slowly. Not because he was tired, but because every step brought him closer to that door.
Room 14.
He stopped in front of it.
For a fraction of a second, his hand hovered in the air before touching the handle.
It's the same every time…
And yet, every time, it feels like the first.
He took a deep breath.
And stepped inside.
His mother lay motionless on the bed. Tubes, wires, machines—everything was there, like artificial extensions of a body that no longer responded. The monitor emitted steady, impersonal sounds.
"Hi, Mom…" Ren said softly.
He moved closer to the bed, pulled up a chair, and sat down.
"Today was… normal," he continued, staring somewhere at the wall. "I played a bit of poker. I won some money. Not much."
Silence.
"School is just as annoying. Teachers talk about the future as if it's guaranteed. I wonder if Dad believed that too…"
The words came more easily than he expected.
"I'm trying to find a job, but… I'm not good at anything. I mean… not at things that matter."
He clasped his hands together.
"But I'll figure something out. I'll help you, Mom. I promise."
For a moment, an image from the past surfaced in his mind. A small table, a modest kitchen. His father laughing, his mother scolding him gently, him sitting between them, carefree.
But the room remained just as quiet.
No response.
Ren stood up.
"I'll come back," he said, as if it were merely a formality.
He left the room without looking back.
The road home took him through a quieter area. Old apartment blocks, small shops, tired lights. At a traffic light, Ren stopped automatically.
Next to him, two men in their forties or fifties were speaking loudly. The smell of alcohol was obvious. They looked like the kind of people who lived one day at a time.
"I told you, it's that bar—RIN, haha! They've got some damn good alcohol," one of them said, laughing roughly.
Ren didn't pay attention.
"And there's always, always that poker table in the back," the other continued. "Serious money goes around there—for a back-alley bar, haha."
Ren slowed his pace.
He didn't look at them. He just listened.
"One night, the winner walked away with… what was it? 2,000,000 yen?"
"Ren flinched. Two million yen? In a single night—that was his mother's treatment for an entire month… and more
"Yeah, something like that!"
"But they didn't let him leave easily," the first added, lowering his voice. "They threatened him. Dangerous people. You don't mess with them."
Ren felt his thoughts fall into place automatically.
Live poker.
High stakes.
Real pressure.
"I wouldn't get involved with them," the other said. "But the alcohol… the alcohol is really good, haha!"
The light turned green. The two men walked off, still laughing.
Ren remained still for a fraction of a second too long.
"It's not my business…" he murmured.
But his mind didn't listen.
A poker table. In a shadowy bar. No protection. No screen. No "disconnect" button.
Dangerous.
Exactly.
Ren tightened his grip on his bag and continued on his way. He didn't turn back. He didn't memorize the bar's name. He did nothing.
But somewhere, deep inside his mind, a door had opened.