Next morning after the festival, Ken pushed the office door open, expecting the usual hum of computers and faint smell of instant coffee. Instead, the first thing he saw was a mountain of papers piled on his desk so high it seemed to have grown overnight. His eyes widened, and his mouth fell open like a cartoon character about to faint. He stepped closer and poked the stack with one finger. The top sheet wobbled like a tiny earthquake in response. "No… no way," he muttered, his voice barely audible. Somewhere behind him, a coworker coughed, glancing nervously in his direction, and Ken jumped slightly as if he had accidentally set off an alarm.
His first thought was, How is this even possible? He blinked, stepped closer, and the piles seemed to multiply. Then, as if the universe wanted to add insult to injury, his boss appeared behind him with a grin that could have been described as suspiciously cheerful. "Ken! Welcome back! Hope you enjoyed your holiday. I left a little surprise for you," he said, gesturing to the avalanche of paperwork on the desk. Ken stared. Blinked. Attempted a slow, polite laugh that came out more like a strangled croak. His expression must have been entertaining because his boss chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder, completely oblivious to the impending sense of doom settling in Ken's chest.
Later in the afternoon, after turning in a first batch of completed forms and organizing the desk to a reasonable level, Ken felt the urge to stretch his legs. The city streets were quieter than usual, office workers already slipping away for early dinners or errands. As he walked down the familiar alley, he noticed a faint flurry of activity at the eatery. The door was open, and Sachiko and Haruo were rearranging chairs and tables, seemingly preparing to open for a small group of afternoon customers. Ken's curiosity nudged him closer.
"Need a hand?" he called softly, stepping inside. The couple turned, surprised but smiling warmly.
"Oh, Ken-kun. Come to help?" Sachiko asked, her voice cheerful but a little strained as she lifted a chair. Ken noticed her movement was slower than before, a slight wince when she straightened.
Haruo, stacking plates behind the counter, nodded without speaking at first, then added, "If you don't mind, a second pair of hands would be nice."
Ken jumped in immediately, helping move chairs and wipe tables. The smell of simmering broth filled the air, comforting and familiar. As he worked, he noticed subtle things: Sachiko leaning lightly on the counter when lifting baskets, taking shallow breaths after small movements; Haruo pausing mid-step, gripping the edge of the counter, as if steadying his heart or catching his breath. It wasn't dramatic, but it was enough for Ken to recognize that their previous hints weren't just words–they were real.
They chatted as they worked, small talk about customers and ingredients, but Ken could feel a layer beneath their words, a quiet effort to keep everything normal. He found himself paying more attention to their motions than to the words, adjusting his speed to theirs, offering help without being asked. Every time Sachiko smiled or Haruo cracked a faint joke, it felt heavier now, because it came from bodies that were beginning to show their limits.
By the time the first customer arrived, the eatery was neat and ready. Ken stepped back, wiping his hands on a towel, and looked at the couple. They caught his glance and gave small, grateful smiles. The bell chimed as a young woman stepped inside, looking around hesitantly. Sachiko offered her a warm nod.
"Welcome," she said softly. "Please, take a seat wherever you like."
Ken noticed her pause, then instinctively stepped forward. "Can I help you?" he asked. "Do you want a menu?"
The woman glanced at him and smiled faintly. "Yes, please. Thank you."
As Ken handed her the menu, he blinked. Something about her face felt familiar. Then it clicked. "Wait… are you from my office?" he asked in mild surprise.
She laughed lightly, a touch embarrassed. "Oh.. yes! I did!... I didn't expect to see anyone here I actually know. You're Ken, Ken Sato right?"
"Oh, small world," Ken said with a grin. "Yes I'm Ken Sato, and you must be Yumi? Yumi Takahashi?"
"Yes, I am, Yumi is the name," she replied. "We work in the same department. I didn't realize you came here often."
Ken shrugged. "Occasionally. Helps me survive the chaos of the office." He winked, earning a quiet laugh.
Sachiko returned with a pot of tea, setting it gently on the counter. "Can I get you anything else?" she asked.
Yumi scanned the menu, then nodded. "I'll have the udon, please."
Ken watched as Sachiko began preparing the order, noting the precise care in her movements. When she set the dish in front of Yumi, the woman's eyes lit up. She took a bite, and her expression instantly softened.
"Oh, wow… this is really good," Yumi said, genuinely impressed.
Ken smirked, leaning slightly closer. "Yes, it is," he said, almost approvingly, watching her savor the food. Sachiko and Haruo exchanged a small, satisfied glance behind him, and Ken felt a quiet warmth. Being there, helping them, and seeing someone enjoy what they had worked for made the day feel… somehow lighter, even with the subtle weight of their frailties lingering just beneath the surface.
After Yumi finished a few more bites, Ken stepped forward. "I think I'll grab something to take home too," he said, scanning the menu quickly. Sachiko smiled. "Of course. What would you like?"
"Tonkatsu curry again, and a rice bowl, please," he said.
While Sachiko prepared the order, Ken and Yumi chatted quietly, stepping aside from the counter. "So… how have you been surviving the Monday madness lately?" Ken asked, half teasing.
Yumi laughed softly. "Barely. I swear the printer hates me personally."
Ken grinned. "Tell me about it. Last week I nearly tipped over a mountain of reports just to keep my desk organized!"
She smiled at that, shaking her head. "Sounds familiar."
Their conversation drifted lightly from office gossip to small weekend plans, easy and casual, the noise of the eatery and simmering aromas wrapping around them.
Sachiko handed Ken a neatly packed takeout container, and he bowed slightly in thanks. "I'll see you around, Yumi," he said as he stepped toward the door.
"See you, Ken!" she called, smiling, and he waved before stepping out into the alley.
The warm evening air hit him as he walked away, takeout in hand, the faint smell of curry clinging to the bag.