"Thank god! I heard what happened yesterday, you scared me to death! Why would you try to end it? What would the kids do? And that woman, Kazusa Touma... she really is heartless!"
An uncle-type man around Ryohei's age rushed over, grabbing his shoulders and checking for injuries. Ryohei didn't have his memories and wanted to ask, "Who are you?" but kept quiet to avoid suspicion.
"I'm fine, no serious injuries," Ryohei replied neutrally.
"Ryohei, why didn't you speak up? I could have helped! Did you not see me as a friend?" the man sighed. Ryohei just offered a weary, bitter smile.
The man, Miura Kosanjuro, looked at his friend with pity. In his eyes, this was all Kazusa Touma's fault.
"Old friend, forget about Kazusa! Her leaving might not be a bad thing after all. I told you back when you got married, didn't I? Don't blame me for being a Monday morning quarterback, but even then, I felt your qualities were far better than hers. You just wouldn't listen! Anyway, enough of that; I've said too much."
The middle-aged man suddenly remembered the state Ryohei was in.
What he needed most right now was encouragement, and rambling like this was just picking at old scabs.
He regretted it immediately and shut his mouth.
"Yeah, you're right. Thanks for the kind words. Actually, I've decided to find a job right away just to put food on the table. Anyway, thanks for coming to see me today," Ryohei responded carefully, keeping his voice as flat and emotionless as possible.
Staying silent for too long would be strange, and Ryohei didn't want to be treated like a freak; he wanted to maintain his original Ryohei's social ties.
"Sigh. Well, that's good."
The two men in their mid-thirties, each harboring completely different thoughts, let out a synchronized sigh. Ryohei was 35, a standard "uncle," and this man was roughly the same age; judging by his tone, they had known each other for many years.
"Here, I withdrew some cash for you. You can pay me back whenever you're back on your feet."
The man stuffed an envelope directly into Ryohei's pocket. "Yumiko's mother is still undergoing treatment. You know how that illness is, it's stubborn. This little bit of money isn't much to me, but it's nothing either. I have some savings, and I recently got a promotion."
Patting his friend heavily on the shoulder, the man turned and left. He still had to find a pharmaceutical middleman to buy medicine for his wife.
In reality, his situation wasn't as easy as he made it sound.
After two years of treating his wife, he felt the crushing weight of high drug prices. Because of high tariffs and the layered profits of domestic distributors, brand-name drugs often cost ten times, or even dozens of times, more than generics.
He was forced to look for "gray market" generic versions just to keep her alive.
Miura Kosanjuro had known Ryohei since they were students. Seeing his friend in this ghost-like state made him sigh with grief. In his view, this was all Kazusa Touma's fault. When Ryohei was pursuing her, Miura had risked a misunderstanding to warn him... but Ryohei had insisted on "taking over that plate" anyway.
Today, seeing a glimmer of hope in his friend's eyes despite Ryohei acting a bit "off," Miura felt slightly relieved. He intended to check on him again in a few days. He was also glad that the prideful Ryohei didn't chase after him to return the money.
Ryohei stood there, squeezing the envelope, feeling a surge of emotion. Money really is the quickest way to see someone's true nature, he thought. Cliché, but true. This unknown friend was someone worth keeping.
For the poor "original Ryohei" to have a friend like this, he hadn't hit rock bottom yet.
"Hey! Thank you!" Ryohei suddenly shouted. It was for the original Ryohei, and for himself.
"Just live your life well!" The man in the overcoat waved his hand without looking back.