<< Chapter 71 | From The Beginning

The search for Tonauac had not been going well.

“Tonauac? Nah, haven’t seen him.”

“With a sovereign vulture? No, no lizardmen like that.”

No matter how many people they asked around the beach they found no luck.

“Unfortunately I have not seen him since our Blood magic class together…wait is something wrong? Is he alright?”

It was nice to see that others were concerned for him.

Citlali shook her head at the orc girl. “We’re simply trying to find our friend.”

“Oh thank The Sky Father.” The girl leaned against the outer wall of the beach changing rooms and exhaled. “I must admit that I came here hoping to run into him when going for a swim. If I see him then I’ll let him know his friends are looking for him.”

The lizardlass looked up at Xoco whose screaming eyes matched her screaming eyes. 

Xoco put on her best smile. “I’m certain he would appreciate that!”

“You think so?” The orc girl tucked a lock of red hair behind her green ear, letting a silly grin overtake her for a moment before she grew serious again. “Of course he would. Forgive me, I shouldn’t be doubting his friends.”

‘His foolish friends were doubting him, that’s what got us into this mess.’ Citlali thought to herself, smiling, while processing a better answer. “Well we have to do our best to clear up misunderstandings, don’t we?”

The orc girl nodded and made a fist held up in determination. “Of course. Is there any other way I can help?”

Citlali and Xoco had both been through more awkward situations than this, and they knew what to do in such cases. It didn’t make it easier to smile through it, though.

“Noooo in fact we should apologize for troubling you haha.” The lizardlass was already scooping up Coztic into her arms and backing away. “Enjoy the nice day!”

Xoco waved farewell and followed after Citlali by pushing her along. Both of them were dead silent until they were well clear of the beach. “Nelli does not see anyone following us.”

The lizardlass groaned out a wounded noise from a closed snout.

“So Zyn was right about all the girls interested in him.”

“I told you.”

“I wasn’t doubting. It’s just…awkward to walk face first into it.”

“All of you are my only social interactions now so I’m not as in-tune with the local gossip.”

“I always kept to myself.”

“You weren’t missing anything.”

“I’d miss all of this.”

“I’d kill to keep all of this.”

“Me too.”

After staring ahead while aimlessly walking, they shared a look and then laughed away some of the tension.

Citlali snapped back to serious. “Was it okay to not tell her?”

“Well, technically she didn’t ask.” Xoco cleared her throat.

“I still feel as though we’ve made negative progress in our search…” The lizardlass pet Coztic and the raptor chittered in appreciation.

The jungle troll girl leaned down to pat her on the shoulder. “You said you’d kill for this, right? Well there’s still a lot of day to kill.”

Citlali giggled. “Thank you…to the next spot?”

The next stop was the club building. A place that was bustling with activity on most weekends with this one being no exception. Tonauac had been the one to discover it in the first place and the friends had the thought that he might return here either in seeking out the views of the rooftop garden boxes or that this would be a good place to ask around with the abundance of people here.

Xoco was to take the lower half of the building and Citlali was to take the upper half. There existed a moratorium on not recruiting first year students to clubs until further into the semester though that didn’t stop students from seeking out clubs of their own. Or forming them, as Citlali’s friends were planning to do.

…they were still planning to do that, right?

Of course they were.

There was just some apologizing and atonement to do, which was mostly her fault, and then they could have their official warband. And she would be the secretary-maid to that warband’s leader! Luckily, this was exactly the building to be in for such extracurricular endeavors that one wouldn’t normally learn about in standard magic classes. 

Which was a relief because Citlali would be the first to admit that she knew very little about being a secretary. Or a maid. She had maids at home but she did her best to not get in their way, meaning she had no opportunities to learn their craft. And her parents had secretaries but business dealings were even more opaque to the lizardlass.

Xoco also admitted that she too knew nothing of these ways.

It was all up to Citlali on how to start this journey, but a very clear first step was obvious: making sure she had the right outfit for it.

Zyn would of course be consulted afterwards but for now, this was a fantastic excuse to mingle while tracking down any Tonauac sightings.

And after making it up to the top floor, results were…mixed.

Some students were definitely seeing her vision in combining secretary and maid into one outfit but no one had seen Tonauac or anyone matching his description today.

“I mean…it would have to be a skirt, right? That’s the common element and you have to work with that.”

“Black and white. You need to look for something black and white. Those colors are going to be even more important than the skirt.”

“Light green? Sorry, haven’t seen any lizardmen like that today.”

“Wait, he's Tonauac? I thought his name was Isak…gimme a break they both end in the same syllable.”

“Tonauac? Not recently but if you’re looking for lizardguys there was this hot one running around in jaguar print underwear–”

That wasn’t anywhere close to what she was asking for but she played nice and thanked her fellow lizardgirl from the baking club for her time and promised she would likely be back to learn the art of baked goods in due time. If she was to embody The Lady of The House for Gods’ March then she would need to learn to cook, even if that probably wasn’t under the normal purview of secretary-maids.

A revelation that didn’t help her search while being very interesting was that there existed a romance novel reading club.

“But do you have the most fun kind of romance novels?”

The red oni girl tried to remain cool in the face of Citlali’s inquiry, but she flinched first and looked away to avoid the lizardgirl’s eyes. “That kind of reading material would…not be allowed.”

“That wasn’t an actual answer.”

“You shouldn’t be asking that question.”

“I understand.” Citlali knowingly winked up at the oni girl. “Perhaps I shall join your club later.”

If she thought they might be less ashamed behind closed doors. The lizardlass was trying to teach Xoco to be unashamed about such things and couldn’t have her learning the wrong lessons. She had already failed one friend and she couldn’t fail another…actually she was failing all of her friends with her distinct lack of luck in turning up any leads.

Citlali’s footsteps slowed. That awful air of malaise that had overtaken her after her horrible mistake this morning came rushing back like pyroclasts. Her temporary return to good spirits started to feel like a mockery. Did she really think she deserved to cheer back up even for a while after what she had done? Could she even make amends? Much less help Zyn plot revenge? Or keep to any other promise?

She was even breaking her promise to Isak that she would be okay. 

…there was still time to keep to that promise, right?

The lizardgirl had sworn to ‘do her best’, and having a breakdown, slumped against a wall as passersby stared at her and Coztic chirped at her after she faced some setbacks was very much not her best.

What would Isak say if he was here to see her like this?

No, she couldn’t–

Another foul phantom of her past was upon her. She heard that old familiar voice before she saw its owner. “Citlali! What brings you here?”

The lizardlass turned to see the face of Kuhri smiling down at her. “W-what are you doing here?”

“Oh, I belong here.” Her smile didn’t falter. Instead, it only grew as bright as her yellow eyes. The mountain lion at her side couldn’t hope for such a predatory grin. “But you still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here?”

“I–It’s none of your business.”

Another of her former friends appeared from the nearby doorway of one of the club rooms, a goblin girl named Yoka with a shrew on her shoulder. “Is that how to treat your old friends, Citlali?”

“You are not my friends.” The lizardlass said through grit teeth while Coztic hissed at them. “Never were.”

The girls laughed and exchanged a look before Yoka continued. “Well if that’s how she treats her old friends I can see why she already scared off one of her ‘new friends’.”

“Get your eyes checked, Yoka.” The goliath girl craned her neck around. “I don’t see any of them here.”

“Goodness, it's worse than we thought.” Yoka put a hand over her mouth and her orange eyes went wide. “She must have driven all of them away.”

Shutupshutupshutupshutup.

Citlali grit her teeth a final time before speaking up. “I am on a very important mission! Entrusted to handle this on my own!”

“Ooooh so they sent you off on a distraction.” The goblin girl clicked her tongue. 

“We would do that all the time with you.” Kuhri frowned and leaned down to pat Citlali on the shoulder. The lizardlass flinched away but the goliath girl continued. “Sometimes you were just a bit…too much.”

Oh.

That…recontextualized a lot of things in retrospect…

All those times that she would be sent off while her friends would be doing something else. Something else without her. At least until later.

“Hey, hey. Don’t look so grim.” Kuhri cooed. “We always came back for you again, didn’t we?”

“When you needed her.” Yoka snickered.

…

That’s not what her new friends were doing…right?

Sure she had been sent off on her own after already dividing up the group but–

Coztic nudged her leg again, finally breaking her out of her spiraling thoughts.

‘You have to be better than this.’ Citlali scolded herself as her claws flexed. ‘Your friends, your real friends, need better than this.’

“Perhaps you both need to get your ears fixed.” The lizardlass didn’t bother to wear a cheery tone. “I told you I was entrusted with an important mission.”

She felt her confidence growing as she took a step towards them. Daring her former ‘friends’ to try something while already having targets picked out for bits of flying mage glass.

“If I was so unwanted then Lord Isak wouldn’t have dragged me back to his room and into his bed!”

That wiped the smug looks right off their faces!

Wait.

The lizardlass forced the smile to stay on her face as she realized she may have given the wrong impression.

“It was because I needed cheering up. And it was very effective!”

There, things were much clearer now.

The faces of her former friends were aghast with how clear things were.

“My my.” Kuhri started to regain some of her composure. With it came that smug grin again. “Does ‘Xoco’ know about this?”

Citlali scoffed. “She was there too.”

Both of the girls stood there in awe of the unwavering power of friendship that had been relayed to them. Their jaws hung open in shock at how Citlali’s new friends were infinitely better than what she had ever dreamt of. Even their familiars were staring in unabashed amazement. They were all–

Oh they thought Citlali was talking about something else entirely.

There was still time to clear up this misunderstanding–

“This is getting too weird for me.” Yoka and her shrew both shivered before walking off. 

“Wait!” The goliath girl called after the smaller girl before turning to Citlali with a scowl. “Your thighs are still fat.”

She was next to storm off before Citlali could clear up–

…her genius plan that had totally worked!

And if she kept telling herself that as she walked off with her head held high, she could ignore all the stares from the few passersby who had been listening in.

<< Chapter 71 | From The Beginning

(Her genius is frightening. 

Please let me know what you think and leave a comment!

Discord server is HERE for this and my other works of fiction.)

General Hornnel Swallowtail woke up to a full bladder.  Only after the brutal, familiar routine of a cold-water rinse, a quick scrape of a razor across his grizzled jaw, and a bitter swallow of ration tea did his mind finally grind into gear. FIVE YEARS! The words rang in his thoughts like a drumbeat. How in Julius' name was he going to restore Haego—a planet battered by decades of conflict, fractured infrastructure, and a shell-shocked population—to a thriving economy, functioning utilities, and local leaders capable of governing? First, he needed cold, hard data. He had to quantify the central continent's full status before he could compose a coherent report for Lord Ferentis.

An hour later, the surviving battalion gathered in the dust-choked assembly courtyard for the morning briefing. Hornnel stepped onto the low platform, his posture rigid despite the weight of exhaustion pressing down on his shoulders. “The Drazans have been defeated by Princess Clara,” he announced, his gravelly voice ringing through the humid morning air. Immediately, violent cries of denial, shock, anger, and underlying fear erupted from the ranks. Men and women who had spent years fighting a hopeless war stared in disbelief. Hornnel slammed his boot against the wooden decking, shouting over the din: “Quiet down, men! The war is done, but the hard work begins now. We have exactly five years to turn Haego back into a functioning world. Alpha squad, you head north toward the old provincial military base. Survey everything. Catalog every building and system—whether it’s completely destroyed, needs major reconstruction, requires minor repairs, or remains fully operational. Spread the word to every survivor settlement you encounter: invite their elders and leaders to assemble here in one lunar cycle. Beta, take the southern agricultural belt; Delta, sweep east through the industrial valleys. Return with your complete logs in fifteen days. I’ll take the central capital district myself.” A chorus of crisp “Yes, Sir!” echoed off the stone walls as the troops dispersed.

Hornnel always preferred being out in the field over sitting behind a desk. Walking the dusty trade roads reminded him of his youth, decades ago, when he had first enlisted in the regional auxiliary forces. In those days, marching and running for endless hectares under heavy packs, combined with endless weapons drills and marksmanship practice, had been his single ticket off this desolate, backwater planet. He vividly remembered the brutal final trial of basic training: the drill cadre had issued bright red shirts to the recruits and barked, “You have thirty minutes to camouflage yourselves before we come hunting. Survive until sundown and earn a three-day pass. If you fail, the red fabric might hide your blood, but it won't hide your shame.” Hornnel had buried himself in a mud ravine and held his breath for six hours, earning his pass and his first taste of survival.

Just as his cohort was graduating into active duty, disaster struck. Off-world pirates raided the unprotected settlements, slaughtering or enslaving the ruling noble families and leaving the administration in chaos. Hornnel and his fellow auxiliaries had organized a desperate defensive line, putting up such a fierce, organized resistance that, when local rebel factions demanded a truce, all parties agreed to a fragile power-sharing council to prevent complete societal collapse.

It was during his very first patrolling mission under the council that Hornnel met Alise. He had led his squad to a small homestead near the forest boundary, only to find a young woman standing tall at the front gate, armed with a pitchfork, flanked by a massive, growling hound, and with a fiercely defensive tree cat draped across her shoulders. Pointing the makeshift weapon straight at his chest, her eyes glaring, she had demanded, “What do you want?” Hornnel had raised his hands placatingly and replied, “We’re from the new provincial authority. We’re here to ask how we can help protect your farm.” From that day forward, Hornnel manufactured every conceivable military excuse to inspect the northern perimeter near her property. Within two years, they were married, and soon after brought Elizabeth into the world—a daughter who inherited all of her mother’s fierce spirit and striking beauty.

Hornnel spent the next three decades climbing through the officer ranks, watching with growing bitterness as the former rebels gradually morphed into the same corrupt, entitled tyrants they had once fought to overthrow. He worked tirelessly to keep his regional command safe, clean, and self-sufficient, holding the line until the Drazan invasion fleet descended and laid waste to the planet. Unlike past conflicts, the Drazans offered no quarter and made no compromises. Hornnel hated feeling like hunted prey in his own home, but he swore to protect his family, his soldiers, and every civilian under his care until his last breath, using the thick forests and rugged mountain ranges for cover as they held out.

Princess Clara’s sudden arrival and tactical victory had felt like nothing short of a miracle. Now, standing on the threshold of a new era, Hornnel prayed that his forthcoming survey and detailed reconstruction report to Lord Ferentis would secure the critical supplies, heavy machinery, and trained technical personnel needed to truly reclaim and rebuild Haego.

Takahashi called Monday evening.

“Wednesday.”

“What about it?”

“Are you free?”

I looked at the calendar.

Morning:

nothing.

Afternoon:

nothing.

Evening:

nothing.

That was suspicious.

“Yes.”

“All day?”

I stopped.

“That is a different question.”

“It contains more day.”

“I understand the language.”

“Are you?”

I looked again.

No service.

No consultation.

No delivery I personally needed to receive.

The mail helper would be there in the morning.

No reason I could immediately name.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

No.

He continued before I could.

“Take the day off.”

I laughed.

“That was not the question.”

“It is now.”

“For what?”

“There it is.”

“What?”

“You always need a noun.”

“A day off usually contains activities.”

“Not necessarily.”

“So you want me to do nothing?”

“I want you not to work.”

“That is not the same.”

“Exactly.”

I leaned back.

“What are you planning?”

“Drive.”

“Where?”

“Don’t know.”

“Food?”

“Probably.”

“That is not a plan.”

“It is enough of one.”

I looked at Wednesday again.

Empty.

Not available.

Empty.

Morita’s phrase returned.

Those were not necessarily the same.

But this time I wanted them to be.

“All right.”

Silence.

Then:

“All right what?”

“I’ll take Wednesday off.”

Takahashi became suspicious.

“Actually off?”

“Yes.”

“No temple?”

“Unless there is an emergency.”

“No paperwork?”

“No.”

“No stopping in for five minutes?”

“No.”

“No answering every message?”

I looked at the phone.

“That depends.”

“No.”

“You don’t control my phone.”

“Unfortunately.”

I smiled.

“I’ll deal with anything urgent. The rest waits.”

He considered.

“Acceptable.”

“That word again.”

“Wednesday. Nine.”

“Where?”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“At home?”

“Yes.”

I almost asked why.

Didn’t.

“Nine.”

We hung up.

Tuesday became inconvenient immediately.

Not because Wednesday had anything scheduled.

Because once I had decided not to work Wednesday, everything on Tuesday began presenting itself as something that should be completed first.

Two receipts.

One supply order.

Three calls to return.

A memorial confirmation for Friday.

An email I could answer Thursday.

Another email I could answer Thursday but did not like leaving.

At five, I was still at the desk.

The mail helper stood in the doorway.

“You’re here tomorrow?”

“No.”

She looked surprised.

“Service?”

“No.”

“Appointment?”

“No.”

“Then where?”

“Off.”

She stared.

I waited.

“Off?”

“Yes.”

“Whole day?”

“Apparently.”

She laughed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“That was not nothing.”

“I’ve just never heard you say it like that.”

“Say what?”

“Off.”

I looked at the desk.

“That seems concerning.”

“It is.”

She smiled.

Then pointed at the stack beside me.

“Those can wait.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

I closed the folder.

“Yes.”

That answer was partly for me.

At home Tuesday night, I considered taking the temple phone.

No.

My personal phone already received calls people considered urgent.

The temple line could go to voicemail.

The mail helper knew how to reach me if something actually happened.

I sent her one message:

Tomorrow I will be away from the temple. Please call only if something cannot reasonably wait until Thursday.

She replied:

Understood. Enjoy your day off.

Enjoy.

No requirement.

Still felt like one.

I put the phone down.

Wednesday at eight forty-seven, Takahashi arrived.

Early.

Not eleven minutes.

Thirteen.

I opened the door.

“You’re early.”

“You’re dressed.”

“Yes.”

“Good sign.”

No.

He saw my face.

“Fine. Functional sign.”

I put on my coat.

No temple bag.

No notebook.

Phone.

Wallet.

Keys.

Then I noticed myself reaching toward the desk.

Nothing there I needed.

I stopped.

Takahashi watched.

“What were you going to take?”

“I don’t know.”

“That is the problem.”

“I stopped.”

“Yes.”

He stepped outside.

I followed.

In the car, I asked:

“Where?”

“West.”

“Why?”

“You chose north last time.”

“So?”

“Balance.”

“That is not geography.”

“It is today.”

He drove.

I did not ask again.

For twelve minutes.

Then:

“Destination?”

“No.”

“You really have none?”

“I have three possibilities.”

“There.”

“What?”

“That is a destination set.”

“Possibilities are not destinations.”

“What are they?”

“No.”

“You invited me into a vehicle without full disclosure.”

“You came willingly.”

“That defense is getting old.”

“It still works.”

He turned on the radio.

Music.

Not baseball.

Progress.

At nine twenty, my phone buzzed.

I looked.

Supplier.

Message preview:

Thursday delivery confirmed.

Not urgent.

I put the phone back in my pocket.

Takahashi noticed.

“Work?”

“Yes.”

“Problem?”

“No.”

He kept driving.

No lecture.

Good.

At nine forty, we stopped at a roadside bakery.

One of his three possibilities, apparently.

“You drove forty minutes for bread?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It’s good.”

“That is a reason.”

“I know.”

Inside, there were perhaps twenty kinds.

Takahashi bought six items.

I bought two.

Then he added another to my tray.

“What is that?”

“Cream bread.”

“I didn’t choose it.”

“You will.”

“That is not how choice works.”

“You can put it back.”

I looked at it.

Kept it.

He smiled.

No comment.

We ate outside despite the cold because the sun was out.

Bench.

Paper bag between us.

No river.

No fishing rods.

Takahashi bit into something filled with curry.

I had the cream bread.

It was good.

I did not tell him immediately.

He waited.

Then:

“Well?”

“Fine.”

“You are a bad person.”

“It is very good.”

He looked satisfied.

“That’s better.”

I drank coffee from the vending machine.

Then my phone buzzed again.

Kondo.

I looked at the screen.

Did not open it.

Takahashi said nothing.

I put the phone face down on the bench beside me.

Five minutes later it buzzed again.

Same thread.

I picked it up.

Two messages.

Mother wants to know whether she can move the small table from the bedroom.

Then:

She says this is not religious and I should stop asking you. I agree.

I laughed.

Wrote:

Your mother is correct.

Then:

I am off today. If anything actually religious comes up, Thursday is fine unless urgent.

Kondo replied:

Understood. She says enjoy your day.

I put the phone away.

Takahashi asked:

“Emergency?”

“Small table.”

He stared.

“Priesthood.”

“Yes.”

We finished breakfast.

Back in the car, he asked:

“Do you feel guilty?”

“For what?”

“Not being there.”

I thought.

“A little.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure.”

“That’s unusual.”

“No.”

“Fair.”

We drove.

I looked through the window.

Fields.

Low hills.

A truck ahead of us carrying pipes.

Then:

“I think because someone could need something.”

Takahashi nodded.

“Someone always could.”

“Yes.”

“That seems badly designed.”

“It is human life.”

“Same thing.”

I laughed.

He continued:

“If someone actually needs you, they can call.”

“Yes.”

“And if they need a priest, there are other priests.”

I looked at him.

“That sentence is less comfortable.”

“Why?”

Because replaceable.

Because responsibility.

Because institution.

Too much.

I chose the simple part.

“Because I am used to thinking of my obligations as mine.”

“They are.”

“Yes.”

“But every possible event isn’t already your obligation.”

There.

I looked at him.

“That was almost intelligent.”

“Garage wisdom.”

“No.”

He smiled.

His second possibility was a small coastal market.

Not tourist season.

Half the stalls closed.

Fish.

Vegetables.

Pickles.

One woman selling dried kelp.

Takahashi knew her.

Of course.

She looked at me.

“Coworker?”

“No,” he said.

“Brother?”

“No.”

Then:

“Friend.”

Immediate.

The woman nodded.

“Poor man.”

I laughed before Takahashi could object.

She gave me a sample of dried squid.

Takahashi received none.

“Why?”

“You insulted your friend.”

“I said nothing.”

“You brought him.”

Apparently enough.

We bought nothing except a small bag of kelp Takahashi claimed Keiko wanted.

I suspected she did not.

Outside, we stood near the water.

Wind.

Less severe than Part 107.

Takahashi said:

“Third possibility is a museum.”

I looked at him.

“What museum?”

“Small one.”

“About?”

“Local railway.”

I stared.

“You planned a railway museum.”

“I said possibilities.”

“You like trains?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“I’ve never been.”

“That is a surprisingly good reason.”

“I know.”

“Open?”

He took out his phone.

Checked.

Then:

“No.”

I laughed.

He looked offended.

“Wednesday closed.”

“That seems like information to check before driving.”

“We haven’t driven there.”

“Progress.”

“Exactly.”

Third possibility died without tragedy.

“So now what?” I asked.

Takahashi looked toward the water.

“Lunch eventually.”

“That is not now.”

“No.”

“Anything else?”

He shrugged.

“Drive.”

There.

The absence of plan had survived contact with reality.

We returned to the car.

At eleven twenty, we passed a sign for a lake.

Takahashi slowed.

“Been there?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

He turned.

No vote.

I let him.

Five kilometers later, the road narrowed.

Three kilometers after that, pavement became rough.

Then a sign:

ROAD CLOSED AHEAD.

Takahashi stopped.

We both read it.

“Well,” he said.

“Excellent planning.”

“This was not one of the possibilities.”

“Clearly.”

He turned around.

No frustration.

No need to salvage the lake.

That was pleasant.

At noon, we found a small restaurant because we saw cars outside.

No reviews.

No research.

Takahashi said:

“Risk.”

I said:

“Yes.”

We entered.

Seven tables.

One menu board.

Set meals.

I ordered grilled mackerel.

He ordered pork cutlet.

When food arrived, his looked better.

He noticed me looking.

“No.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“You were going to.”

“I was evaluating.”

“Your fish is your choice.”

“Yes.”

Then he cut one piece of pork and put it on the edge of my plate.

I looked at him.

“What?”

“Friend allocation.”

“That phrase is getting worse.”

I ate it.

Good.

I gave him fish.

He said:

“I didn’t ask.”

“Exactly.”

He ate it anyway.

My phone rang during lunch.

Actual call.

Temple mail helper.

Takahashi looked at me.

I answered.

“Hello.”

“Sorry.”

“What happened?”

“A man came asking about a funeral.”

There.

I sat straighter.

“Current death?”

“His mother died this morning.”

Different.

Real.

“What does he need?”

“He wants to know whether you can officiate.”

“Date?”

“Not fixed. Funeral company meeting tonight.”

“Does he need to speak with me now?”

“I asked. He said today is fine, not necessarily now.”

Good.

“Take his name and number. Tell him I will call before five.”

“Understood.”

“Anything else urgent?”

“No.”

We ended.

Takahashi waited.

“Work?”

“Yes.”

“Going back?”

I checked the time.

Twelve twenty.

No date fixed.

No immediate rite requested.

No body transfer needing me.

I could call later.

“No.”

He nodded.

That was all.

No applause for healthy boundaries.

Thank God.

We finished lunch.

At one, I called the bereaved man from the car while Takahashi bought coffee.

I introduced myself.

He explained.

Mother.

Hospital death.

Family gathering.

Funeral company tonight.

Possible service two or three days later.

No immediate religious act requested.

We agreed he would call after the funeral meeting.

Seven minutes.

Necessary.

Completed.

When Takahashi returned, he handed me coffee.

“You working?”

“Finished.”

“Need to go?”

“No.”

“Then drink.”

I did.

At one thirty, we had no destination again.

Takahashi said:

“Want to go home?”

I checked.

Did I?

No.

“Not yet.”

“Good.”

No.

I ignored it.

“What do you want?”

He asked.

Interesting.

Not what should we do.

What do you want.

I looked out.

“Bookstore.”

He stared.

“You took a day off to go to a bookstore?”

“Yes.”

“Very adventurous.”

“You asked.”

“Fine.”

He searched.

Found one thirty minutes away.

We went.

The bookstore was larger than expected.

Takahashi went to magazines.

I went to history.

No need to stay together.

That was nice.

Forty minutes later, I found him near automotive books.

Of course.

He held one.

“Buying?”

“No.”

“Why hold it?”

“Reading.”

“That is usually allowed.”

He looked at my basket.

Three books.

“You own enough.”

“No.”

“Your house has structural limits.”

“That is why I don’t keep fourteen boxes on the stairs.”

He frowned.

“That was Keiko.”

“Family responsibility.”

“Unfair.”

I bought the books.

He bought nothing.

Then we left.

At three fifteen, we stopped at a coffee shop.

Not one we knew.

Takahashi tasted his coffee.

“Good.”

No.

He said it first and deliberately.

I stared.

“What?”

“You’ve contaminated the word.”

“It is a normal word.”

“Not anymore.”

He smiled.

Then:

“How is your day off?”

I looked at the bag of books near my feet.

Coffee.

Road.

Bakery.

Market.

Failed lake.

Lunch.

One work call.

No temple.

“Good.”

His smile widened.

I pointed at him.

“Do not.”

“I said nothing.”

He looked out the window.

Then asked:

“Would you have taken today off without me?”

“No.”

Quick answer.

“Why not?”

“I wouldn’t have thought of it.”

“That bad?”

“Yes.”

He laughed.

Then I corrected:

“I think about time off.”

“But?”

“I use it for things.”

“What things?”

“Errands. House. Writing. Reading. Appointments.”

“That is time off.”

“Technically.”

“Not according to your face.”

Fair.

He drank.

Then:

“So what is today?”

I thought.

“A day.”

“That is deeply philosophical.”

“No.”

“Good.”

I sighed.

He laughed.

We left around four.

He asked:

“Home?”

This time:

“Yes.”

No reluctance.

The day had filled naturally.

No need to extract another hour from it because it was officially off.

We drove back.

Halfway home, my phone rang.

Bereaved man.

I answered.

Funeral date fixed.

Friday afternoon.

Could I officiate?

I knew Friday.

Yes.

I confirmed.

We arranged a consultation Thursday.

Ten minutes.

Necessary.

Real work.

When I hung up, Takahashi said:

“Day off ruined?”

“No.”

He glanced at me.

“Sure?”

“Yes.”

“That was actually needed.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re still not going to the temple.”

“No.”

He nodded.

No more.

At five, he dropped me at home.

I took the bookstore bag.

The bakery bag was empty.

Kelp remained in his car.

“Keiko actually asked for that?”

“No.”

“I knew it.”

“She will use it.”

“Maybe.”

He looked at the house.

“Day off successful?”

“That sounds like an audit.”

“It is.”

“Then fail.”

He laughed.

“What?”

“No success criteria were defined.”

“That may be the most relaxed thing you’ve ever said.”

“Go home.”

He started to.

Then stopped.

“Tomorrow?”

“I work.”

“I know.”

“Coffee?”

“Maybe after four.”

“Call me.”

There.

Not he would call.

I could.

“I will.”

He left.

Inside, the house felt different from returning after work.

Not better.

No accumulated office inside my head.

The temple had existed all day without my body in it.

One genuine funeral inquiry had reached me.

It had been handled.

Everything else could wait.

I put the books on the table.

Not shelf yet.

Tomorrow.

No need to convert leisure immediately into organization.

I surprised myself with that thought.

There were five non-urgent messages.

I read them.

Did not answer four.

Answered one because it was easy.

Then wondered whether that counted as work.

Probably.

Did not matter.

A day off did not need purity.

That seemed important.

If rest required perfect separation from all responsibility, I would rarely manage it.

The point was not pretending the rest of life ceased to exist.

I had simply not spent the day waiting beside it.

I cooked dinner.

No takeout.

Because I wanted to cook.

Not because productive rest.

No category.

Food.

After dinner, the mail helper sent:

Everything here is fine. See you tomorrow.

I replied:

Thank you.

Then:

Today helped.

I almost deleted that.

Didn’t.

She answered:

Good. Do it again sometime.

I smiled.

No schedule.

At eight, Takahashi sent:

Keiko says thank you for kelp.

I wrote:

So she did want it?

She does now.

Fair.

Then:

Museum next time.

I wrote:

Check opening days first.

Coward.

I laughed.

No Morita email.

No old priest.

I did not miss them.

That was not rejection.

Simply no need tonight.

Before bed, I opened the desk drawer.

Not for the charger.

I had moved a spare cable near the bed days ago.

I needed one of the postcards.

Not needed.

Wanted.

The colleague from Kyoto.

I took it out.

Read the three sentences again.

Weather.

Temple visit.

Train delay.

Years old.

Then I turned it over.

Nothing else.

I wondered whether he was still at the same temple.

Probably not.

Maybe.

I could find out.

Could call.

Could not.

No obligation created by remembering someone.

I placed the postcard back.

The card envelope beside it stayed closed.

Then closed the drawer.

Wednesday had contained one funeral call.

That mattered.

A person’s mother had died.

My day off had not made that fact less serious.

Nor had seriousness required me to abandon the rest of the day once the necessary call was made.

That distinction had been harder for me than it should have been.

Maybe because religious work had no clean factory bell.

Death did not observe office hours.

Grief did not book only available slots.

That was true.

It would remain true tomorrow.

But constant possibility was not the same as constant demand.

Today, most things had waited.

One thing had not.

I had answered that one.

Then returned to coffee.

Road.

Books.

A friend driving west for no very good reason.

I went to bed earlier than usual.

Not exhausted.

Simply ready.

Before turning off the light, I looked at tomorrow’s calendar on my phone.

Several items.

Work again.

Fine.

I did not resent it.

Maybe that was another use of stopping.

Not escape.

Not proof I had a life outside work.

Just enough distance for work to become tomorrow instead of everything.

I put the phone down.

For one day, I had not been away from responsibility.

I had simply been off duty unless responsibility actually arrived.

Most of it did not.

And the world, somewhat rudely, continued without me.