The next day rolled in slowly, not with sunlight this time, but with the low rumble of Ken's alarm vibrating right beside his ear. He smacked it blind, missed, smacked again, then finally hit the right button. He lay there for a moment, face buried in the pillow, groaning like some creature freshly awakened from a century-long nap. But he didn't have the luxury to stay still. Sachiko and Haruo had already warned him yesterday: "Tomorrow, loose end number two."
Whatever that meant.
Ken dragged himself up, stretched until his back popped in three separate places, and got ready. A quick shower, a rushed brushing of teeth, and a mouthful of leftover rice crackers counted as breakfast. He slipped on his jacket and left the apartment with a half-yawn, half-sigh.
The sky was a pale blue, still waking up. A few vendors were setting up their stalls early, sweeping dust off the pavement or laying out crates of vegetables. Ken walked with a slow pace, not quite dreading the day but not totally ready for whatever chaos the old couple had in store either.
As he turned the corner toward the eatery, he noticed the front door was already wide open. And this time–not because of an argument. Haruo and Sachiko sat at one of the tables, a huge notebook spread open, tea steaming between them. The moment they spotted Ken, Sachiko lifted a hand cheerfully.
"Morning, Ken-kun!"
Ken stepped inside. "Morning. You two look… extremely ready."
Haruo patted the notebook like he was presenting national secrets. "Loose end number two. Very important. Extremely important."
Sachiko nodded with a mysterious seriousness. "We're visiting Haruo's old friend."
Ken blinked. "Oh? Like… reconnecting?"
Haruo grunted. "More like confronting a debt from 1978."
Ken paused a second, staring at him. "Sir… that was almost fifty years ago."
Haruo crossed his arms proudly. "A debt is a debt."
Sachiko sighed. "The money's not the main thing. They had a falling-out, long ago. Something stupid. Something neither wants to apologize for first."
Ken nodded slowly. "So… we're going there?"
"You're driving," Haruo added immediately.
Ken blinked. "I don't have a car."
Sachiko pointed through the back door. "We borrowed my nephew's van."
Ken turned. There, in the alley, stood a small, slightly dented, faintly rattling white van that looked like it survived more wars than it should've.
Ken stared at the van. "Is it safe?"
Haruo shrugged. "It still moves. Mostly."
Sachiko clasped her hands. "Come on, Ken-kun. It'll be quick. Just a visit. A nice talk. A healing moment."
Ken had a feeling it would not be quick, nor simple, nor peaceful.
But he sighed, put on his best "I guess I'm doing this now" face, and got into the van.
The van's engine wheezed like an asthmatic boar when Ken started it, rattling loud enough that people turned to stare. Sachiko hummed softly in the back seat, unfazed. Haruo sat beside Ken in the passenger seat, poking random buttons on the dashboard.
"Don't touch that," Ken warned.
Haruo poked it anyway. The radio turned on full volume, blasting an enka song so sudden and emotional that Ken nearly drove into a light pole.
"Turn it down!" Ken yelled.
Haruo turned it up instead.
Sachiko clapped happily. "Ah, I remember this song!"
By the time they finally got out of the neighborhood, Ken had accepted that the radio was going to stay loud, and he just focused on not dying. The drive wasn't long–about twenty minutes out toward a quieter district where small houses lined a peaceful street.
Haruo pointed at a specific house with faded blue tiles. "That one."
Ken parked the van carefully. They stepped out, and Haruo hesitated for a moment, staring at the gate.
Sachiko nudged him softly. "Go on."
Haruo snorted, straightened his back, and walked toward the house with exaggerated confidence. Ken followed a step behind. Sachiko walked beside them, her eyes warm but observant.
Haruo knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again–harder.
Finally, footsteps approached. The door slid open, revealing an elderly man with silver hair tied back loosely and glasses that sat low on his nose. His expression went blank the moment he saw Haruo.
"Oh," he said flatly. "It's you."
Haruo grunted. "Daisuke."
Daisuke grunted back. "Haruo."
The tension hit instantly. It was so thick Ken swore he could slice it and serve it over rice.
Sachiko broke the silence first. "Hello, Daisuke-san! It's been a while."
Daisuke immediately softened. "Ah, Sachiko. You look well."
Haruo elbowed him sharply. "She's sick, you insensitive mule."
Sachiko bonked Haruo with her purse. "Not like that!"
Daisuke stared at the two of them, then sighed heavily. "Come in. Before the neighbors think we're fighting again."
The three stepped inside, removing their shoes. Ken felt weird being in a stranger's home like this, but he followed quietly.
The living room smelled faintly of incense and old wood. Tea was already brewing somewhere. The air felt still, gentle. Daisuke sat across from Haruo, and for a few moments the two just stared at each other in stubborn silence.
Ken kept glancing between them nervously.
Finally Daisuke spoke.
"So. You came to ask for the money."
Haruo scoffed. "Keep your money. I don't even remember how much it was."
Daisuke blinked. "Then why the hell are you here?"
Haruo's voice lowered slightly. "Because… we're old now. And sick. And we were stupid."
The room fell quiet.
Daisuke inhaled slowly, looking away for a second, his jaw tight. When he exhaled, his face softened.
"Yeah… we were."
Sachiko smiled gently. Ken relaxed a little.
The two old men sat there, staring at the table, each waiting for the other to speak again.
Finally, Daisuke cracked first.
"You broke my fishing rod."
"You stole my lunch."
"You cheated in shogi."
"You started it."
"You cried first."
"That was allergies!"
Sachiko suddenly burst out laughing. Ken tried to hold it in but failed miserably when Haruo and Daisuke both turned away like sulking kids.
Daisuke let out a slow breath. "...Let's just say we're even."
Haruo nodded. "Yeah. Even."
Sachiko clapped softly. "Good! Finally!"
The old men shared a look–awkward, tense, but warm underneath. A silent truce.
Daisuke stood. "Stay for tea."
Haruo pretended to think for a long moment. "Fine."
Sachiko shook her head, amused. Ken sat near the corner, observing the whole thing unfold like a live sitcom.
They drank tea. They talked. They reminisced. Haruo complained. Daisuke teased. Sachiko mediated. Ken just tried to keep up.
And when they finally left the house an hour later, Haruo and Daisuke exchanged a small nod–barely noticeable, but meaningful.
Sachiko whispered to Ken, "Loose end number two… complete."
Ken smiled lightly. "Yeah. That one was worth the trouble."
As they walked back to the van, Haruo grumbled under his breath, "He better pay back that fishing rod in the afterlife."
Sachiko flicked his ear.
Ken laughed quietly as the three of them climbed back into the shaky old van.
Another messy, chaotic, strangely heartwarming day checked off the list.