Tokyo: The Manga Begins with the Funeral of Frilian

One week later, in the evening, the doorbell rang.

Shiori Shirakawa went and opened the door.

When she saw the person standing outside the door, she was immediately stunned.

Kenichi Shirakawa stood at the doorway. His eyes were deeply sunken.

He had a layer of bluish-gray stubble on his chin.

He was wearing the same suit as last time, but it was clearly a size too big.

It's not that the clothes have gotten bigger, it's that the person has lost weight.

He was carrying a paper bag.

The paper bag was printed with a pink ribbon from that Ginza cake shop.

"uncle?"

Shiori Shirakawa quickly ushered him inside.

After changing into slippers, Kenichi Shirakawa walked to the low table and sat down.

He placed the paper bag on the table and put his hands on his knees.

He sat there like a primary school student who had made a mistake.

Yuma Kamiya emerged from the room that served as the main bedroom.

Then he sat down in the seat opposite him.

"Mr. Shirakawa."

Kenichi Shirakawa raised his head.

His eyes were bloodshot, as if he hadn't slept for many days.

"Kamiya-kun. I've been thinking about what you said last time for a long time."

He took a deep breath.

"I sold the house."

Shiori Shirakawa's hand, which was pouring tea, froze in mid-air.

  

"I bought it for 120 million, but the asking price was 80 million. The agent said that no one would take a bid at that price; it had been listed for three days without a single viewing. I had to grit my teeth and lower the price to 70 million before someone finally came to negotiate."

He gave a wry smile.

"The other party owns a chain of supermarkets, and they're paying in cash. Seventy million, and they won't budge an inch. My hand was shaking the whole time I was signing the contract. I lived in that house for seventeen years. Shiori used to play in the yard a lot when she was little, remember?"

Shiori Shirakawa nodded slightly.

Then he pushed the teacup toward the spot in front of him.

"I remember. There was a persimmon tree in the yard."

"The persimmon tree was still bearing fruit last month. On the day we moved, the persimmons were perfectly ripe, hanging red all over the tree." Kenichi Shirakawa looked down at his teacup. "I didn't pick them. I left them for the next owner."

He picked up the teacup.

However, he did not drink it and then put the teacup back.

"The day after the house was sold, the bank issued a strict order—to completely halt all real estate loans. Not a single penny could be disbursed. All loans that had been approved but not yet disbursed were frozen."

Shiori Shirakawa involuntarily turned her head away.

I glanced in the direction where Yuuma Kamiya was.

Yuma Kamiya's expression remained unchanged.

"My friend who runs an izakaya (Japanese pub)."

Kenichi Shirakawa's voice was very low.

"It's the one I told you about last time, the one who bought two plots of land. After he received a call from the bank freezing his loan, he didn't go home that night. The next morning, JR staff found him on the tracks. He was gone."

Shiori Shirakawa gasped.

"When I received the call from his wife and rushed to their house, I saw a piece of paper on his table. It wasn't a suicide note, but a loan repayment plan. It was covered with a whole page of numbers. Next to the last number were four words: 'I can't pay it all back.'"

Kenichi Shirakawa raised his hand and covered his eyes with his palm.

The area around the low table remained quiet for a long time.

"If I hadn't listened to your advice, if I hadn't gritted my teeth and sold it when the price was seventy million," he said, his voice trembling, taking his hand away from his eyes, "if I had delayed another week, until the banks completely stopped lending, that house wouldn't even have sold for fifty million. Then the mortgage wouldn't be paid off, and your aunt's hospital bills would have to stop. Your aunt—"

He paused for a moment and took a deep breath.

"She's recovering very well now. The doctor said she can be discharged after two more weeks of observation. I used the money left over from selling the house to pay for her hospitalization, and I still have some left, enough to rent a small apartment in Adachi Ward. I've started looking for a job, although it's not easy to find one at this age, but it's better than jumping on a train."

He stood up.

He bowed deeply to Kamiya Yuuma.

He made a bowing gesture.

The waist is bent deeply into a standard ninety-degree angle.

When the waist bends down, you can hear the joints making a creaking sound.

Shiori Shirakawa quickly reached out to help him up.

However, he waved his hand to indicate that she should not offer him assistance.

"Kamiya-kun, you saved our whole family."

His face was turned toward the floor.

Therefore, his voice sounded muffled.

"You're a comic artist, you don't understand economics, real estate, or banking. But you got everything right. You said trees can't grow to the sky, you said if we don't sell now it'll be too late, you said this isn't lending money, it's pouring water into a leaky bucket. Every single thing you said was right."

He straightened up, his eyes bloodshot.

"I don't know how to thank you. You have everything you need, and I don't have anything to offer. Last time I came here, I said you're a comic artist, what do you know about economics? Now that I think about it, I'm the one who knows nothing."

Yuma Kamiya stood up.

"Mr. Shirakawa, it's not that I don't understand economics. I just don't blindly believe in it."

He picked up the bag containing the cake from the table.

Then I opened the bag and took a look.

Inside is a strawberry-flavored short cake.

It's exactly the same as the one he bought in Ginza last time.

"I'll take the cake. That's enough."

Kenjiro Shirakawa was taken aback for a moment.

"But--"

"After your wife recovers, bring her over for a meal. Shiori makes delicious hamburger patties. You can make up for what you owe her then."

Kenichi Shirakawa remained standing in the same spot.

His lips moved slightly, but no sound came out.

Finally, he bowed once more.

This time, the bow was directed towards the direction where Shiori Shirakawa was.

"Shiori, you've found a good man. Your parents in heaven will be at peace."

Shiori Shirakawa's eyes immediately welled up with tears.

She escorted her uncle to the entrance.

Kenichi Shirakawa is putting on his shoes.

His movements were very slow.

He seemed afraid that he would lose control once he stood up.

"Remember to put the cake in the refrigerator."

His voice was a little hoarse.

Strawberries cannot be kept overnight.

"Okay, Uncle."

Shiori Shirakawa responded.

The moment the door closed, Shiori Shirakawa leaned against the door panel, her head tilted back.

Tears streamed down her cheeks and into her collar.

Yuma Kamiya stood in the corridor watching her.

A little while later, the phone in the living room rang.

Shiori Shirakawa took a deep breath and wiped her face with the back of her hand.

Then he went over to answer the phone.

Holding the receiver close to her ear, her expression gradually shifted from sadness to confusion, and then she fell silent.

"Understood. Thank you for letting me know."