The next morning pushed its way into Ken's apartment like it owned the place. A soft beam of sunlight crept across the floor, climbed over his futon, and smacked him directly over the eyelids. His face twitched. He groaned and rolled over to escape it, only for his foot to slip off the mattress. He slid right down like a defeated noodle and landed on the tatami with a soft, pathetic flump.
He decided to not going to work for a week. So he pull out his phone and then he sent the proposal to his boss–and the second thing he heard even though he didn't, was his boss fainted immediately on the spot, that a sign of yes? maybe.
He stayed there for a second, staring at the phone screen, the faint scent of yesterday's tonkatsu still lingering in the air. His eyes were half-open, brain loading like an old computer. Eventually he pushed himself up with a grunt, rubbing his face slowly as the morning chill brushed over his skin. He shuffled into the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and splashed cold water on his face until he felt his soul return. A few slaps to his cheeks for good measure and a long, slow exhale later, he finally started functioning like a human being again.
Today, he had promised the elderly couple he would help them with the first "life task" they wanted to get done. They had been so serious about it last night–talking about tying up loose ends "before their bodies give up faster than their willpower can keep up." They joked about it, but their eyes said otherwise.
Ken dried his face, put on simple clothes, and stepped outside. The morning air was cool and crisp. The streets were still waking up, with the smell of fresh bread drifting faintly from a bakery nearby and a distant hum of cars starting to fill the roads.
By the time he reached the eatery, he could already hear something inside–two voices in a heated debate. The sliding door was open, the broom abandoned halfway through the entrance as if someone had dropped it mid-argument. Ken slipped his shoes off and stepped inside.
Sachiko was scolding Haruo. Haruo was defending himself with hand gestures so wide that one of them nearly hit a bowl off the counter.
"Ken-kun! You're late!" Haruo barked the moment he noticed him.
Ken looked at his phone. "It's 7:55… and we said eight."
"Still late. Early is on time, and on time is late," Haruo grumbled.
Sachiko smacked him lightly with a rolled newspaper. "Stop messing with the boy. You woke up at five because you thought it was afternoon."
Haruo muttered something about "damn unreliable clocks" even though it was his eyesight, not the clock, that caused the issue.
Ken stood there, unsure whether to laugh or apologize. Before he could decide, Sachiko grabbed his wrist.
"Ken-kun, the first thing on the list today... we need to take a proper family photo."
Ken blinked, confused. "Oh. Yeah. You mentioned that last night."
He glanced at the couple. "But… isn't that just a normal picture…?"
Sachiko puffed her cheeks slightly. "We haven't taken one in thirty years. Ever since Haruo decided to grow a beard like a mountain monk!"
"It was stylish!" Haruo defended.
"You looked like a lost raccoon!"
Ken raised both hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Let's just take the picture."
Sachiko immediately brightened and hurried around, adjusting her hair, straightening her apron, fixing Haruo's collar even though he kept swatting her hands away.
Ken set up his phone on a stool, but it was too short. So he put a bag of rice on the stool. Still short. Added another bag. Still short. He eventually ended up stacking the stool on top of a thick cooking pot, then placing the phone on it. It wobbled dangerously.
"I don't know about this…" Ken muttered.
"It's fine," Sachiko waved him off.
"It's leaning," Ken pointed out.
Haruo squinted. "It's leaning because you're looking at it crooked."
Ken stared at him. "Sir… the phone is about to fall."
But Sachiko was already posing.
Ken sighed and set the camera timer. "Okay, ten seconds. Don't move."
He rushed into position behind the phone, watching the couple stare into the lens.
Three seconds left.
Two seconds.
One...
Sachiko suddenly hissed, "My eye itches!"
Haruo snapped, "Too late! Hold it!"
Click.
The photo showed Sachiko mid-scratch, Haruo mid-glare, and Ken in the background looking tired of life.
"We're doing it again," Ken said immediately.
Attempt two:
Haruo sneezed so hard the stool shook like an earthquake.
Attempt three:
Sachiko blinked so slowly she looked like she fell asleep.
Attempt four:
Their cat wandered in, sat right in front of the camera, and stared with deep authority.
Attempt five:
Ken tripped over a rice bag and nearly crashed into Haruo.
By attempt nine, all three were sweating, Sachiko's hair had been fixed fifteen times, Haruo's collar was permanently crooked, and Ken had begun questioning every life decision that brought him here.
But then–attempt ten.
Finally, perfect timing. Perfect posture. Perfect smiles. A quiet stillness settled over the room as Ken snapped the picture.
He showed it to them.
Sachiko's hand covered her mouth. Haruo leaned in closer. They stared at the photo–soft smiles, hands joined, warmth in their old eyes. For a moment, both of them were quiet.
Sachiko whispered, "We… actually look good."
Haruo nodded slowly. "I look handsome."
Sachiko immediately smacked him with her rolled newspaper. "You ruin the moment every time!"
Ken laughed under his breath, relieved and oddly touched.
Sachiko turned to him. "This is going on our wall. And we're sending it to my sister in Kyoto. And my niece. And Haruo's cousin who owes him five thousand yen."
Haruo raised a fist. "He'll pay this time. I look too respectable to ignore."
Ken chuckled. "Well… one loose end tied, I guess."
Sachiko gave a satisfied nod. "One of many. But this is a good start."
Haruo grinned. "Don't worry, Ken-kun. We've got a whole list. And you're helping."
Ken stared at them. "...Wait, what?"
But Sachiko was already putting the photo in a frame, humming softly. Haruo was pulling out a notebook filled with scribbles.
Ken sighed, smiling despite himself.
The morning felt bright, messy, chaotic… and oddly comforting.