5 Ghost

(A month later)

Natsuo was curled up in an old, baggy quilted jacket and threadbare scarf. He rubbed his freezing fingers and tried to warm them up with his breath. It was the 26th of October, and he had turned seventeen only two hours ago.

Even in the darkest hours, the city of Tokyo glowed with life and energy. From the neon signs of its skyscrapers to the bustling street vendors and the music of its nightlife, Tokyo was alive and vibrant with each strike of the clock.

But being homeless and penniless meant that the days were tough and the nights even tougher, but Natsuo didn't regret his decision at all.

He had read in discarded newspapers that nobody was searching for him. No one cared where he was.

The boarding school probably contacted Natsuo's parents, but because Masashi was too busy to call them during the day, he called them in the evening. Having listened to their explanations quietly and expressionlessly, he would have responded that they could handle finding Natsuo themselves, then go on as if nothing had happened. Masashi and Noriko Nakashima did not have children and their focus was only on their careers. There was no such thing as an adoptive son.

With no one to control him or tell him what to do, Natsuo was able to explore the city and find his own place in it. It was his choice to stay up all night and enjoy the sights of the city, or he could find a dark corner and soak up the peace. His life was no longer confined to rules or restrictions, and he was finally able to enjoy the freedom of doing what he wanted.

As he searched for a safe place to rest, his body was weary from the lack of energy and his mind was clouded by hunger - poor nutrition was definitely one of the downsides of his changed lifestyle. He was completely drained of strength and he was unable to fight fatigue any longer as he collapsed to the wet ground.

"Natsuo? Is that you?"

The man's face seemed blurred as if fading from his vision, and after a few seconds, he was left in complete darkness.

(A couple of hours later)

As Natsuo awoke, he smelled a sweet breadlike aroma combined with fresh oranges and cinnamon.

He noticed he was inside an extravagant, black-painted bedroom, and he quickly realized he must have been brought there by the mysterious figure he had encountered earlier. He questioned suspiciously who owned the place and why he had been brought there.

When Natsuo tried to recall what had happened, someone opened the door.

An attractive, strong-shouldered young man with white hair carried a tray of food. He was surprised to see Natsuo sitting on the bed.

"Oh, you're awake. I made some breakfast, and I hope you're not allergic to cherries," he said gently as he lowered the tray onto a bedside table.

Natsuo realized those grayish-brown eyes belonged to Jiro Takuya, the little ghost from school he had bullied for years. Never in a million years did he think that Jiro would walk through the door and offer him something to eat. He could smell the melted cherry jam and see steam rising from the mug of tea.

"You don't like pancakes?" Jiro asked as he saw Natsuo's difficult expression.

"What the hell is this?" Natsuo asked his voice laced with disbelief.

"You fainted on the street, and I happened to walk by. I took you to my home to rest."

Natsuo had figured that out too, but he couldn't understand why he was being so generous.

During their last encounter three years ago, they had just finished seventh grade and Jiro was running late for graduation. They were planning a simple prank for him - when Jiro stepped inside the classroom a bucket of water would fall on him - but because Jiro was running late, the victim was their teacher.

They locked Jiro in the janitor's closet after receiving their diplomas. It wasn't until several hours later that he was found when school had already ended.

The principal scolded the bullies for their inappropriate behavior and Masashi once again chose to demonstrate the consequences with his belt.

Jiro had moved to the United States and was never heard from or seen by them again - until now.

"But why are you - I don't - " Natsuo stuttered as he stared at the trayful of food.

"Why am I helping you? I feel sorry for you," Jiro replied with a neutral face.

He had gone through a growth spurt and was now a head taller than Natsuo. The structure of his body showed that it had been well-trained under his lightweight tracksuit. His dyed white hair color was a striking contrast to the dark hair he used to have, adding to his unique look.

The weak, fearful boy seemed to have disappeared long ago. Natsuo was the one looking like a ghost now.

There was no denying that he was malnourished by his gaunt skin and underweight frame. His dirty hair was disheveled and his eyes held a glint of hopelessness that he had been struggling to conceal.

"I don't hate you," Jiro said.

Natsuo wasn't sure if he could believe his words - after all, he had been so hurt by him before.

"Really?" Natsuo was able to ask.

"I told you that I felt sorry for you."

"But - "

"Enjoy your meal," Jiro said smiling before leaving and closing the door.

The sight and smell of delicious topped pancakes were so irresistible that they completely distracted him from any hesitations he had about eating them. He was so hungry that he was willing to take the risk of eating something that could potentially be dangerous.

(A while later)

As soon as he finished eating, he put on his shabby coat and carefully opened the door. The layout with large windows and the decor of the penthouse gave it a grand and luxurious look. The elegant combination of concrete, glass and wood created a sophisticated atmosphere, and the dark colors and minimalistic designs added a modern touch. The two levels connected by marble stairs made the penthouse feel like a manor in the sky.

Jiro sat comfortably on a black L-shaped couch while using his phone. His eyes were glued to the screen, a bright blue light casting a glow on his face as he scrolled and tapped.

"You can take a shower if you want," he said without looking at him.

"Why did you really bring me here?" Natsuo questioned skeptically.

Jiro glanced at him as he stood up.

"No reason," he said in an earnest tone.

"I made your life like hell. Or have you forgotten when I - ?"

"I haven't."

"Then why? There must be some reason. What was in the food?" Natsuo asked accusingly.

"It had eggs, flours, a little bit of sugar - "

"I didn't mean that!"

"They were just pancakes. You can relax," he said amusingly.

"I have to leave now," Natsuo declared, feeling a sense of urgency to escape. He was engulfed by the troubled emotions he was experiencing from being in Jiro's presence. Natsuo knew that if he stayed, he wouldn't be able to keep his composure.

"Wait a minute," Jiro said with a worried expression.

"Where are you going? Do you have a place to stay?"

"It's none of your business," Natsuo snapped back.

"Well, I don't want you to - "

"Stop it! Stop being so nice to me!"

His breathing quickened as he gasped out the words.

"You should hate me! You should have left me there!" Natsuo continued to preach but shut his mouth when he saw his pitying face. The air they were both breathing felt like it was strangling him.

"Thanks for the food," he murmured and left the penthouse before Jiro had a chance to reply.

(A month later)

Natsuo was in a state of total disconnect from his life and his environment. It was as if he were separated from the world and himself, drifting in a sea of bitterness and despair; a feeling that had started since his encounter with Jiro.

He was the only person who had ever shown him that kind of kindness and compassion. Natsuo had never asked for anyone's forgiveness and he wasn't sure how he would handle it, but he needed to see him and get his thoughts straight.

As he wandered back to his luxurious penthouse, he hoped that meeting Jiro and speaking his truth would bring him some closure. He had spent weeks ruminating on the past and he was desperate for a resolution.

He didn't ring the doorbell when he arrived at Jiro's building. His palms turned sweaty as he wondered if he had made a mistake and started to regret coming there - he had already turned to leave when the door opened.

"What are you doing here?" Jiro wondered.

His words pierced through Natsuo's thoughts, causing him to halt his steps.

"I was just leaving, but you can come in if you want."

Natsuo knew he should say no, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"I will be back in a minute," Jiro assured.

Natsuo glanced at him nervously. Jiro was wearing a black leather jacket, a pair of slim-fitting jeans and sturdy boots. A belt was tied around his waist and a stylish scarf gave the outfit an edgy finish. A faint smile of encouragement showed he wasn't bothered by his surprise visit.

"Here. I can use the code," he said and handed him a silver key.

Natsuo hesitated for a moment before finally accepting it and watched as Jiro got into a car with tinted windows.

When Natsuo entered the entry hall, the building's guard greeted him politely, but seemed suspicious of his untidy appearance as he made his way to the elevators.

As he reached the top floor of the building, he stood in front of Jiro's penthouse door. A herbal scent welcomed him as he used the key to enter.

It appeared that everything was the same. Even though the apartment was probably worth a fortune, it seemed as mundane as any home - old clothes littered the couch and takeout boxes lay scattered on the black marble counter.

Natsuo was uncomfortable with the idea of prying into someone else's space, so he sat down and fell asleep as his body succumbed to exhaustion.

(A while later)

"Natsuo?"

Jiro chuckled to himself, shaking his head in disbelief as he watched Natsuo slumber serenely.

He quickly stumbled up and was about to lose his balance, but Jiro managed to grab his arm.

"Are you okay?"

Natsuo wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole as he mumbled yes.

"Did you want to talk about something?" Jiro asked and removed his jacket, revealing both arms covered in traditional, colorful irezumi tattoos derived from Japanese mythology - similar to those on yakuza members.

Natsuo was overwhelmed by the revelation and could hardly believe his eyes; the shy ghost from school was part of an infamous criminal organization.

Jiro opened the matte black integrated refrigerator and took a look inside. It was obvious that the fridge had not been cleaned in a while, with old food containers and leftovers sitting on the shelves.

"There isn't anything to eat... or maybe we should order takeout?" Jiro suggested and glanced at Natsuo, who was about to refuse.

"Come on, don't let me eat alone."

Jiro interpreted Natsuo's sigh as an affirmative to his question.

"Great, is sushi okay?" He asked with a broad smile spread across his face.

(Later that evening)

Natsuo needed a moment away from the uncomfortable atmosphere after their meal to regain his composure, so he headed to wash his face. The bathroom was also designed with black tiles and dark wood, continuing the gloomy aesthetic of the home.

He took a deep breath after splashing his face with cool water, feeling the tension growing inside him as droplets dripped from his chin.

The only person who could probably calm his chaotic mind was Jiro. However, Natsuo was so embarrassed by his presence that he was unable to stay around him for long.

Natsuo steeled himself for the conversation ahead as he came out of the bathroom.

Jiro leaned against the panoramic window smoking something sweet and syrupy - definitely not a regular cigarette.

"Want some?" He asked, offering him the rolled joint.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Natsuo snorted.

"It will make you feel more relaxed. I think you would need that," Jiro continued with a stiff laugh.

Natsuo was wary and suspicious, unsure of Jiro's true intentions. He guessed Jiro had to be harboring deep-seated anger, and the possibilities of what he could do to him were endless. Drugging him could be the first step in his revenge.

"Why did you help me back then?" Natsuo asked straight-forwardly.

Jiro inhaled from the weed joint and smoke swirled around his face as he exhaled.

"I have no intention of fucking you over. There is no point in dwelling on the past. I don’t care anymore," Jiro stated in a husky voice and reached into his pocket to pull out a small metallic box. He threw the container at Natsuo, who found three marijuana joints and a lighter inside.

"Maybe you should stop caring as well," he suggested.

After thinking about it for a while, Natsuo ignited one joint. Jiro smiled at the sight of him doing so.

(Later that night)

The sun was just beginning to rise, painting the sky with a soft pink hue as they sat on the open-air balcony, admiring Tokyo's morning view from the 89th floor.

A sense of calm and relaxation had enveloped Natsuo. His breathing slowed and his mind cleared as the peace and serenity he desired filled him.

Jiro did the majority of the talking and spoke about how he became a millionaire after both of his parents died in a car accident over two years ago. Natsuo noticed his sarcastic and stiff voice when he talked about them - as if their death didn't matter to him.

"So, was there something you wanted to talk about?" Jiro asked.

Natsuo's dreamy feeling vanished from his body as he returned to reality. He knew not to let his emotions take control and wanted to choose the right words to express his feelings without coming off as too intense.

"Well, I wanted to say that I'm - " Natsuo started in a barely audible voice but closed his mouth after seeing Jiro asleep.

He had probably been lost in thought for far longer than he had expected.

Natsuo covered him with a wool blanket from the chair. He glanced at Jiro's penthouse after leaving the key on the balcony, relieved that life had at least brought him something good in return.