The New Year arrived with thunder.
Above the city, fireworks split the night into bursts of gold and scarlet. Ribbons of smoke wound against the stars, glowing softly in the afterglow. The mob below barked as another salvo exploded upwards. Strangers shouted "Happy New Year!" until their voices were a single bay that washed through the avenues.
Confetti swirled on the pavement in the cold air. Children jumped to grab it. Strangers toasted with what they could grab or hugged whoever was closest to them. The entire city, for a moment, came together in joy, took in the promise of fresh starts.
Yukio barely looked up.
He stepped out of a casino that loomed like a cathedral of light, its signboards blazing with colors that put the night sky to shame. A flood of light swept down the facade in electric blues and hot pinks, spilling over onto the sidewalk. The air was crackling with electricity, as though the building itself vibrated with trapped energy.
He shoved the hood of his frayed green sweatshirt back and took slow breaths. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth—small, intimate. There was fire in his chest, though.
"Guess the house lost tonight," he growled. His tone was the kind of quiet certainty that a gambler had after he'd ridden a dozen close calls. "Yeah. I won big."
At eighteen, Yukio didn't seem like a boy who'd just walked out with a fortune. He was gaunt, lightly malnourished, with black hair which always slid into his eyes no matter how often he pushed it back. Blue eyes, hard as glass in sunlight, seemed somehow to clash with the rest of him, tiny and wicked. Two minute silver studs flashed the neon light, winking with each motion of his head.
The rest of him was a boy who hadn't thought about fashion much: baggy jeans, sneakers that had been worn pale months ago, and a hoodie elongated at the cuffs. And yet, something about the way he moved accounted for the difference—he wasn't leaving an empty-handed boy.
He pulled out his phone and opened it with quick, practiced fingers. Numbers glared back at him, flashing bold and impossible: ¥173,425,500.
Even with his own eyes, he almost laughed. He understood better than anyone how money never stayed in the pocket of a gambler. But not this time, it wasn't for him.
His thumb rested over the transfer key. Then, without more ado, he transferred the balance away. All the yen were gone into another account.
He wrote a short message, his smile transforming into something more tender.
It's time your lives were made a lot easier. It's all for you.
Yukio shoved the phone into his pocket, breathed in deeply, and melted into the crowd as if nothing monumental had happened.
---
Nozomi cleaned the last of dinner's dishes in their small downtown apartment. The sink continually ran; the single fluorescent light above the kitchen was occasionally flickering. There was a whisper of soy sauce and worn tatami.
Tsutomu sat at the small dining table, working his rough hands over weary eyes. Years on building sites had slumped his shoulders, and the stack of bills in front of him was another load he couldn't carry.
"Electricity again," he growled, staring at the latest envelope. "We'll be behind time if we don't—"
The sound of a phone interrupted him.
Nozomi looked over at the counter. Her phone screen glowed with a message. Drying her water-soaked palms on her apron, she extended her hand to get it.
Her breath caught.
"T-Tsutomu…" She held out the phone to him, her voice trembling. "Just look at this!"
He frowned and leaned in. His forehead furrowed as he had trouble seeing the number. Then his eyes opened in shock. He counted the digits once. Twice. A third time.
"That's… no. That can't be. This isn't real."
Neither of them was able to say another thing before another message appeared.
It's time your lives got much easier. All of it is for you.
There was complete silence in the apartment for a moment. Even the hum of the refrigerator seemed to vanish.
Then Nozomi laughed. It wasn't smooth—it cracked, caught between a sob and a gasp—but it was laughter, all the same. Tears misted her eyes as she flung her arms around her husband.
Tsutomu's eyes were shining, too. His voice was rough when he struggled, "That boy. what did he do?" He groped for his phone, fumbling on the keypad. "I have to call him. I have to—
Before he could finish the rest of it, the sound of scurrying feet resounded in the corridor.
Megumi slid open the sliding door, rubbing her eyes. Sixteen, obstinate, and sharp-tongued, she had no time for drama at midnight. Her hair was sticking out in every possible direction, her pajamas still rumpled from bed.
"Come on," she grumbled. "It's past midnight. Some of us sleep.".
She stood rooted to the spot when she saw her parents' tear-stained faces. Her mother held the phone to her like it was a holy object.
"What… happened?" Megumi questioned, raising an eyebrow.
Her father turned around, his voice clogged with emotion. "Your brother. He… Megumi, he just sent us money. A lot of money."
Megumi elevated an eyebrow. "Money? What, like a few thousand yen?"
Her mother shook her head and pushed the phone in front of her. "Look.
Megumi took it and looked. Her eyes went wide as she scrolled, trying to understand the numbers on the screen. The number looked too fantastic to be real, something out of a fantasy drama.
Her mouth dropped.
"This… This is not possible." She looked back and forth between her parents, hoping one would admit to it being a joke. When neither of them spoke up, she swore under her breath and pulled out her own phone.
She phoned Yukio immediately. The line clicked, and before he could even utter a greeting, she cut in, "Yukio! What have you done? Explain this at once!"
On the phone, Yukio's voice was calm. Almost chuckled.
"Don't worry, Megumi." He laughed low and even. "All will be explained when I return home."
Her eyes narrowed. "This better not be illegal, Yukio."
But the line was already dead, boiling with her, her parents crying, and the inescapable good fortune still glowing on the screen.
Outside, firecrackers cracked in the distance, resonating in the city like the beat of a new year.
And in the midst of the throng, Yukio continued with a quiet smile, carrying in his heart a secret only he seemed ready for.