The day Saki left, I returned to my room expecting it to give me comfort, but it felt just as empty and cold as the rest of the house had for years. Everything reminded me of her, smelled of her.

I called Yoshitaka that afternoon and started my full time cooking position at The Weeping Willow the very next day. I would do anything to get me out of that house and keep my mind occupied.

When I was forced to return home, I took to sleeping in the corner of my room facing the wall, using only a spare blanket Saki had never touched. It was not enough. She was still the only thing on my mind until sleep finally won me over. Sometimes even this was not enough, as she would invade my dreams as well. I hated it.

I didn't have to wait long for my parents to return home. I'm not sure if they were staying away for themselves or because Saki was there. It didn't really matter. I immediately got their consent to rent a place and quickly moved out into a one room apartment of my own. It was better, but I still hated it.

It had been nearly three months since Saki left. I hadn't heard from her at all. No phone calls. No texts. Not even any letters. She'd cut me off completely. She'd said two hours wasn't that far, and she was right. Two hours is pitiful, but it didn't matter. She might as well have been on the moon.

I started taking shifts whenever they were available. The less time I had off the better. I'd work as many double shifts as they'd give me. It didn't even have to be cooking. I was happy to fill in as a waiter or even a dishwasher. As long as it kept my mind occupied, I didn't care what it was. I hung out with Hiromasa whenever possible, but since he was in college now, he was often busy.

I filled the gaps in my time with my coworkers. I had been pretty limited socially in high school, but not anymore. I'd do whatever, with whomever, whenever they asked. Want to go to karaoke? Yes. Want to go grab something to eat after work? Yes. Want to go to the arcade? Yes. Want to help me move this weekend? Yes.

I made sure to only return to my apartment when I was so exhausted that I would barely have the strength to shuffle into the door and crawl into bed. I would fall asleep almost immediately, giving me no time to dwell, no time to let my mind wander.

I managed to keep this up for a several months, but my luck finally ran out one summer night when I was cutting up an onion for a curry. I was moving too quickly and my hand slipped. I barely even felt it, but within seconds, a stream of bright red spread along the wet cutting board and soaked into the white flesh of the onion. I dropped the knife and clutched my index finger, backing away from the cutting board. Kuroda looked over at me, quickly grabbed a clean dish towel, and wrapped it around my finger. Evidently, this was not his first rodeo.

"How bad is it?" Kuroda asked, holding the dish towel in place.

"I don't think it's as bad as it looks," I said. "It's just bleeding a lot."

Kuroda nodded. "Yeah, fingers are always like that. Come with me. We'll get you cleaned up and see just what we're dealing with." He glanced back at the cutting board. "I don't see a finger lying back there, so it can't be too terrible."

I laughed and shook my head. That was so like Kuroda. He was good at keeping it light in stressful situations.

"Iwamoto, will you clean that up?" Kuroda asked as he led me out of the kitchen.

"On it," Iwamoto said.

We went into the small break room which contained a large table filling most of the room, a row of lockers, and a computer desk that sat against the wall. Yoshitaka was typing away at the computer, but looked up when we entered.

"Sit," Kuroda directed, grabbing a small medical kit off the top of the lockers.

I sat down at the table, keeping my hand gripped tightly on the towel.

"What happened?" Yoshitaka asked, walking over to me.

"Just a little accident," I said, holding up my hand.

"I've got that." Yoshitaka took the medical kit from Kuroda. "You get back to the kitchen and make sure Iwamoto doesn't fall too far behind."

Kuroda nodded and gave me a pat on the shoulder before heading back to the kitchen. Yoshitaka drug a chair close to mine and took a seat.

"Let's see it." Yoshitaka set the medical kit on the table and started unpacking it.

I unwrapped the towel from my hand. The blood had already started to soak through it. It was still bleeding, but not as bad as it had been. Both my hands were smeared with blood, like I'd just fled a murder scene. Yoshitaka took out an alcohol wipe and cleaned the cut gently. More blood bubbled to the surface, but it was slow. He dabbed it a few more times until he was satisfied, then wrapped it in more gauze than I think was necessary.

He got another alcohol wipe and started cleaning the rest of my hands. "Have you had a tetanus shot recently?"

I nodded. "It's up to date."

"What happened?" he asked, as he continued to clean my hands. "Not paying attention?"

"I was just moving too fast," I said. "It was stupid. I'm fine now, though. I can put a glove on it and go back to work."

Yoshitaka finished his cleaning and gathered up the trash into a pile. "You don't look fine."

"I am," I insisted. "It's just a little cut. I'm an idiot. It won't happen again."

He sighed and turned to look at me. "Listen, Nagase. You're a great employee and you work really hard. I appreciate it. I really do, but I wouldn't want you to burn out. You're young. You should be enjoying life a little, you know?"

I smiled and shook my head. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine, really."

"I want you to take a break for a little bit," he said. "You're looking a bit pale."

He stood up and crossed the room to the back door.

"Come on," he said, holding the door open. "Get some fresh air. It's just for a few minutes."

I had no choice but to do as he said.

"I'll check up on you in a bit," he said. "But I'm right inside if you need me."

He shut the door leaving me alone in the dim light at the back of the restaurant. It was quiet. I hated it.

I leaned my back against the wall and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to focus on the pain in my finger. I needed something, anything to keep me from what I knew was going to come next.

It was no use. The thoughts of her came rushing back anyway. I could see her standing there next to me. Feel her pressing that cold soda bottle against my neck just as she had the summer before. Why the hell did I come to work here anyway? I should have looked for a job somewhere else. This place was filled with her.

I knew I couldn't, though. This was the only place I had left that was connected to her. If I let this go, then what?

The memories didn't limit themselves to ones at the restaurant. They flooded my mind mercilessly. The way she looked when she smiled at me. The sound of her voice. The feeling of her pressed against me. The taste of her lips against mine. Relentless.

My chest ached. The thoughts of the last moments I saw her hurt the most. The last hug she'd given me, how wrong that last kiss felt, the view of her back as the train doors slowly shut.

"Hey, are you alright?"

My eyes opened to reveal a woman with lean features and short, chocolate colored hair.

Was I alright? I was anything but.

I forced a smile. "I'm fine, thanks."

Her worried expression didn't change. "Really? You were making a face like you were on fire. Is that because of your finger?"

"My finger?" I'd honestly forgotten about the damn thing.

She gestured at my hand.

"Oh." I laughed and shook my head. "No, this is nothing. I was just lost in thought that's all."

She sighed and leaned against the wall next to me. "That's a relief. I thought I might have to call the hospital or something."

"I looked that bad, huh?" I said, almost to myself.

She smiled, but didn't press the issue, which I was glad of. I really didn't want to get into it and I was too tired to lie.

"So, I take it by the uniform that you work here." She tapped the building.

I nodded.

"I guess that would also explain the finger," she said.

"Totally unrelated," I said. "I was playing a game of five finger fillet. Turns out, I'm not as good as I thought."

Her eyes went wide until she caught my grin and laughed.

"That was mean." She punched me in the arm playfully. "I actually believed you for a second, you know?"

I chuckled. "Sorry."

"I think you owe me a name now."

I smiled. "Nagase Kaito."

"Amemori Kyoko," she said.

"So, Amemori, what are you doing wandering around the back of restaurants at night?" I asked. "I don't have to call the police, do I?"

She smiled and shook her head. "I actually came from the bar next door. I just turned twenty today, so my friends took me out, but I think I overdid it a little. I came outside to get some air."

"I see." I nodded. "Happy Birthday."

"Thanks." She smiled. "Well, I guess I better get going. I don't want to make my friends worry. I'm glad you're alright."

"Have a good night." I waved as she walked back to the bar.

"You too." She waved back at me. "No more playing with knives."

It only occurred to me after she left that I was feeling a little bit better. I wasn't one hundred percent, but I certainly wasn't rock bottom either. I guess Amemori had been a pretty decent distraction.

The next couple of weeks I continued as I had been, filling every second I was awake with work or social outings and getting my standard four hours of sleep a night. Yoshitaka didn't caution me about over exerting myself anymore, but I think he was watching me a little bit closer than he had been.

It wasn't until one sweltering evening a few weeks later that I saw Amemori again. I'd only managed to secure one shift that day, which wasn't nearly enough to tire me to the point of exhaustion, so I'd made plans with Nakada, one of the waiters, to go bowling. I'd only ever been once before and I don't think I liked it very much, but at least it was better than the alternative.

Unfortunately, Nakada had to bail last minute because he'd received a call from his wife, who was clearly not happy about something. It would have been rude to push for information, but needless to say, my night was not going as I planned.

I was waiting on the corner for the light to change. I'm not even sure where I was going. I was headed in the direction of the train station, but I wasn't sure I was even getting on because I sure as hell wasn't going home. Not to that quiet place all alone with myself and my thoughts of her.

"Well, if it isn't knife boy. How's the finger?" I turned to see Amemori standing a few feet away from me with a big grin on her face.

"Hi." I smiled. "It's much better. Thanks. Out drinking again?"

"Man." She put a hand on her hip. "What's with the instant accusation? I'm not an alcoholic, you know?"

I laughed and put my hands up. "Sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

The light changed and we crossed the street along with everyone else who had been waiting.

"So, how does it feel to hit the twenties?" I asked.

"Oh, totally all empowering. I feel like the world trembles at my feet now." She swept her hand in front of her and giggled. "Pretty much the same. How did it feel for you?"

"For me?" I asked. "I wouldn't know. I still have a little over a year to go."

"Really?" She looked surprised. "I thought you might be a couple years older than me."

I laughed. "I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult."

"A compliment definitely." She paused. "Well, maybe both. You just looked so worn out when I saw you the first time."

I laughed again. "That's so brutal. I look old? Is that what you want to say?"

"No. No. No." She waved her hand in front of her. "Not like that, just, wounded? I guess? No. I mean...Uh..."

I shook my head. "That's so much better. You're really good at small talk, huh?"

She laughed nervously and rubbed the back of her head. "I stick my foot in my mouth a lot."

"That's an understatement for sure."

"Let me make it up to you," she said. "I'll buy you dinner."

"That's really unnecessary. I was just teasing."

"Please." She stepped in front of me and put her palms together. "I'd feel better if I did." She dropped her hands. "Unless you have plans."

Those words really got me. If I didn't go with her, what was I going to do? If I wandered around alone on my own for too long, my mind was going to start to drift anyway. I was already teetering on the edge.

"Tell you what?" I said. "Why don't you let me buy you dinner instead?"

"Huh? What for?" she asked.

"Let's say, for offering a man on fire a glass of water."

She got quiet.

I chuckled. "Was that too intense? I'm sorry. I swear I have no ulterior motives. I just really need something to do right now and I'd feel really awkward if you were paying for me."

She smiled and nodded. "I guess I can live with that."

"Great." I smiled.

We didn't go anywhere fancy. Just a ramen stand a few blocks over. We didn't talk about anything serious either. I didn't want to talk about what was obviously bothering me and she didn't ask. I found out she was studying to be a nurse. She had an orange tabby cat named Mikan. Her favorite color was purple. It was actually a lot of fun slurping noodles and talking about simple stuff.

When we were finished, we walked around and chatted some more and eventually worked our way to the train station where we had to part ways.

"Listen." She played with the strap of her purse. "I know you said you didn't have any ulterior motives, but I had a lot of fun and I was wondering if you'd want to do it again sometime."

I did. I really did.

"Sorry, Amemori." I looked down. "I actually had a lot of fun too, but the truth is I just got out of a relationship. It really took a lot out of me. I don't think I'm in a very good place right now. I sort of have a bad habit of using people that I’m really trying to break."

"Wow," she said. "That's really honest of you to say."

"Yeah, it's this new thing I'm trying out." I looked up and half laughed. "You know, I've never turned anyone down before?"

She started laughing. "Jeeze. I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult."

"I really am sorry," I said. "It's nothing to do with you. I swear."

"Well, it's a shame for sure." She pulled her phone out of her bag. "I'm going to give you my number, just in case you change your mind."

I really hated to turn her down, but it was probably better for everyone involved. I would probably only make a mess of things.

I was pretty tired when I got home. My plan worked. I was asleep within seconds.

The next day, when I grabbed my phone to turn off the alarm, I noticed I had a new text from a number I didn't recognize. I clicked it up and forced my tired eyes to focus on it. It read, "Guess what I finally got?"

I shot up. I knew exactly who it was from. My heart started racing. I looked at the timestamp. It hadn't been that sent that long ago. My thumbs flew over the phone to text a reply, but I froze. What should I say? What did I want to say? What took her so long? She must have had a phone before this. There's no way she didn't. Why was she lying? What I wanted to say to her couldn't be expressed in a text. I wanted to call her, but the thought of hearing her voice both thrilled and terrified me. I was sure I'd hit total meltdown if I heard it.

"About time," I texted back lamely. "How is everything going?"

I grimaced as I read it back. What sort of response was that? That's all I had to say after nearly four months?

I got ready and went to work, but I wasn't focusing well. I made a lot of stupid mistakes. I probably checked my phone over a thousand times that day. She didn't text back until the next day. All it said was, "Fine. You?" I sent only a one word response, "Fine."

I hated that. I hated everything about it. Things had grown so impersonal between us. Why? She hadn't loved me, but we were still friends, weren't we? Maybe not. Maybe we could never go back to that. Maybe it really was all over.

I longed to call her, to hear her voice, but the longer I avoided it, the more difficult it became to do. What if she sounded just as impersonal over the phone? I don't think I could've handled that. To know that everything we shared was gone now. It would've destroyed me. I was sure of it.

After several weeks of texts that were a maximum of four words at a time, I finally broke down. I couldn't handle it anymore. I was thinking about her at work now, too. Even while I was at my busiest she was there, in the back of my head, tormenting me. I pulled out my phone, my finger hovering over Amemori’s number. She could fill the void; I was sure. If I poured all my attention into someone else, there’s no way I would have time to think about Saki, right? I took a deep breath and quickly deleted the number before I could second guess myself. I was not where I needed to be to start up a relationship with someone else. Amemori was not a real solution to my problems, just a bandage.

The person I actually ended up calling surprised the hell out of me. “Hi, mom.”