Chapter 189: Blind
Even the most prosperous cities cast long shadows, hiding pockets of decay and neglect. Celadon City, despite its glittering façade, was no different. If the southern districts catered to tourists and the eastern avenues housed the wealthy, the western district was where the city's prosperity ended – the slums.
Decades ago, this area had been Celadon's industrial heartland. Factories churned, providing steady work, and neighborhoods grew around them, rough but functional. People lived and worked, raised families, built lives supported by the rhythm of industry. Nobuhiko's parents had been among them, factory workers, eventually promoted to minor leadership roles, proud owners of an apartment in a company-built complex.
Then the factories moved away, chasing cheaper labor or newer facilities elsewhere. The jobs vanished. Celadon City, focused on its burgeoning commercial and entertainment sectors, offered no viable transition strategy for the displaced industrial workforce. The western district withered. Buildings decayed, infrastructure crumbled, and hope eroded, leaving behind a landscape of neglect and poverty. The former engine of Celadon's growth became its forgotten underbelly.
Nobuhiko parked the sleek black motorcycle in a dimly lit alley near his apartment building, carefully covering it with a weathered tarp. He knew the risks of leaving anything valuable unattended here. Things tended to... disappear.
His building stood as a monument to the district's decline. Once a sturdy, grey-white structure, its façade was now peeling and stained, revealing patches of the underlying brickwork like old wounds. Yet, within these decaying walls held the tangible remnants of his family's past, ghosts of a life before everything changed.
He entered the darkened stairwell. The building, eight stories tall, lacked an elevator. The timed lights on the landings required a manual press, a minor annoyance he usually ignored. He knew these stairs intimately, having climbed them for over a decade; he could navigate them blindfolded. Tonight, however, he ascended in darkness by choice, unwilling to announce his return.
Reaching the sixth floor, he stopped outside his apartment door. He listened intently, hearing only silence from within. Hesitation gripped him for a moment. He took out his key, paused again, then finally, carefully, inserted it into the lock and turned it as quietly as possible.
The door opened onto pitch darkness. He didn't reach for the light switch. Slipping off his shoes by the entrance, he padded silently into the apartment.
A small figure was curled up on the worn sofa in the living room. His heart clenched. He approached quietly, whispering her name. "Rina... Rina..."
She stirred, murmuring sleepily, then reached out a hand, her fingers finding his face in the dark. "Nii-san... you're back," she mumbled, her voice soft, slightly slurred with sleep. "You must be tired. Have you eaten? I can heat up dinner..." She started to sit up, intending to rise.
Nobuhiko gently pressed her back down. "Stay put," he said, his voice low but firm. He noticed the leftover plate of food on the small table beside the sofa, untouched. "Rina," his tone sharpened slightly, "you didn't eat again, did you?"
"Mm," she hummed noncommittally, shrinking back slightly, anticipating his lecture.
"How many times do I have to tell you?" he sighed, keeping his voice down despite his frustration. "If I'm late, eat without me. Don't wait." He gestured towards the sofa. "And don't wait up for me out here. What if you fall asleep and catch a cold? Go to bed when you're tired." He felt the familiar mix of worry and exasperation. No matter how often he said it...
"But I like eating with Nii-san," she replied quietly, her voice laced with a simple, unshakeable affection that instantly disarmed his frustration.
He sighed again, this time in resignation. "I know. I'll try to be back earlier next time," he promised, knowing it was often a promise circumstances wouldn't let him keep.
"Hehe," she reached out and hugged him tightly around the waist. "Nii-san is the best."
"Okay, okay," he patted her head awkwardly, extracting himself from the hug.
"I'll go heat up the food now," Rina offered again, starting to get up.
"I'll do it," Nobuhiko insisted, gently pushing her back down. "You sit."
"But Nii-san worked all day..."
"Sit down!" His voice was suddenly sharp, unintentionally harsh. "I've told you before, Rina. Stay out of the kitchen!"
She flinched, looking hurt but not arguing further. "...Okay," she whispered.
Regretting his tone, Nobuhiko took a deep breath. He went over and flipped the main light switch. The overhead fluorescent tube flickered, buzzed, then cast a stark, bright light over the small apartment, chasing away the shadows.
The apartment, despite its age and the building's decay, was meticulously clean and tidy. The furniture was old and mismatched, clearly handed down or bought second-hand. There were no modern luxuries beyond the essential television and refrigerator, though a relatively new microwave oven sat on the kitchen counter. Compared to the crumbling exterior, the interior felt cared for. Simple and threadbare, yet possessing a quiet warmth— a home.
Nobuhiko looked back at Rina sitting on the sofa. A pang of familiar heartache went through him. She wore an old, oversized shirt that clearly wasn't hers, paired with faded grey work trousers – likely his old ones. Her features were delicate, almost fragile, possessing a gentle, unassuming beauty. But her eyes... they were clouded, unfocused, lacking the spark of normal sight.
She was blind.
"What is it, Nii-san?" she asked softly, sensing his gaze. She stood up carefully, her hands held out slightly, navigating the familiar space by memory and touch, her footsteps small and cautious.
"Ah! Nothing," Nobuhiko quickly came back to himself, hurrying over to take her hand. "Why did you get up?"
"It's okay. I know where everything is. I won't bump into things," she replied with a gentle smile, though she allowed him to guide her.
"Alright, alright," he sighed, leading her back to the sofa. "Just sit here for a bit."
He went into the small kitchen. Years of practice had made him efficient. He quickly heated up the leftover dinner using the microwave.
"Come eat," he called, guiding Rina by the hand to the small dining table.
"Okay." She felt for the edge of the table, then the chair, seating herself carefully. As she sat, her hand brushed against his sleeve. She paused. "Nii-san... you smell like alcohol?"
"Ah. My teacher... my superior officer... took me to a formal banquet tonight," he explained briefly. "I didn't drink, but the air was thick with it."
"I know," Rina replied, and smiled again. It was a smile that lit up her face, transforming her gentle features into something radiant, briefly eclipsing the room's stark fluorescent lighting.
Because of her blindness, Nobuhiko always served her food separately, ensuring everything was within easy reach. He placed a container of heated food directly in front of her. "Here. Eat first."
Years of living together had created their own silent rhythm. Rina found the container immediately by touch. She must have been starving, waiting for him all evening. Without further ceremony, she picked up her utensils and began eating quietly, taking small, careful bites.
Nobuhiko sat opposite her, watching her eat. The exhaustion from the long day, the lingering tension from the near-accident, the weight of his responsibilities – it all seemed to recede in this small moment of shared quiet.
Here, in this simple apartment, surrounded by the ghosts of his past and the reality of his present, he felt a fragile sense of peace. No criminals to hunt, no protocols to follow, no complex social games to navigate, no unreliable superior to manage... Just this.
"So," Rina teased gently after a few minutes, noticing he hadn't started eating himself, "is Nii-san full just from watching me?"
He didn't respond.
Rina wasn't surprised. She continued eating, her movements quiet, precise. The only sounds in the room were the soft clink of her utensils and the gentle rhythm of her chewing. She knew her brother had likely fallen asleep sitting upright at the table again, utterly exhausted.