When we arrived at the entrance, Kazama pulled open the door, glancing around eagerly.

“Dang, it’s been a while,” he exclaimed. “I haven’t seen this scenery since the beginning of third year!”

I looked from side to side, taking in the vast array of colorful machinery and flashing lights. The building was noisy, and the overall atmosphere was a bit overwhelming, to say the least. I had no idea what I was supposed to do, or where to go.

“What about you?” Kazama asked. “When’s the last time you’ve been to an arcade?”

“Ah… I don’t think,” I responded, “I’ve ever been to one before.”

“Ehh?” Kazama’s exclamation was unnecessarily loud, and he quickly quieted himself, as if he had shocked himself with it. Then, eyeing me with disbelief he stated, “Really? Never?”

I nodded.

After a moment, his expression turned from one of shock to one of excitement, and he grabbed my arm and pulled me along one of the aisleways. “If that’s the case, then we’ve got to enjoy this to the fullest!” He beamed. “I’ll show you all the fun of arcades!” 

We started at the punching bag machine, and I threw my all into that punch, hoping to relieve my frustrations, as Kazama had mentioned. Kazama stared in awe at the score that appeared on the screen, and laughed in return at his when he hit the bag. While it did feel somewhat alleviating, it seemed to me that my mood was more so boosted by the sound of his laughter. 

We spent a couple of hours at the arcade that day, throwing our energy around until we grew weary. We traveled down aisle to aisle, playing all the games that Kazama recommended, and also trying our hands at some that he had never seen before. It was an exhilarating experience, one that I had never felt before, and I couldn’t help but think that if I had never met Kazama, I would likely never be able to experience such an emotion. It was a similar feeling to the times when I had brought down groups of people with Noguchi, but I had more control over myself, and the pleasure was not constantly marred by the bleeding feeling of guilt.

We continued at it until we were both tired and craving some food to nourish our empty stomachs. The sky had begun to turn orange, and we exited the arcade, searching for some nearby restaurant where we could satiate our hunger. We came across a decently sized place selling bento boxes and ramen, and promptly entered due to the growling of our stomachs. The waiter led us to our seats, which were rather comfortable, and we ordered and continued chatting about random events that had happened in the past week, just sharing our days. 

“Ah,” Kazama remarked, “they have a self-serving tea stand over there.” 

I turned around to look at it, and replied, “You’re right.”

I was about to stand up to head over, but Kazama stopped me. “I’ll get some for the both of us,” he smiled, “you can stay here.”

“Oh,” I muttered, settling back down, “okay. Thanks.” 

I sat at the table, fumbling with my fingers a bit as he went to get tea, feeling a bit awkward about accepting his kindness. I tapped my fingers on the table, waiting, until I suddenly heard a crash from behind me. I spun around to see another man approaching Kazama, and a puddle of tea spilled across the floor. 

“Hey!” he shouted. “What was that for?”

Kazama appeared nervous, his hands shaking. “Ah, I… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry, my a**,” the man replied, glaring at him. “You got my clothes all dirty. How are you going to repay me for that?”

“Well,” Kazama stated, “if you need cleaning fees—”

The man grabbed Kazama by his collar, and I rushed over, seething with fury. 

“You little brat,” he interjected, “do you know how much this costs?” He gripped Kazama’s shirt tighter, almost choking him, but before he could do more, I slammed my fist over his head, knocking him down. Kazama looked intensely distraught, and the man turned up to face me, grabbing his head where he had been hit. 

“...There’s another one of you, huh?” he spitted. “You’ll regret hitting me, you piece of s***!”

He rose up to grab me, but I punched him in the abdomen, sending him spluttering across the floor. My mind went black, and I lost the control I had tried so hard to maintain the past year, kicking and beating him on the floor endlessly. Kazama tried to hold me back, but I shoved him off too, unable to stop. My hands were craving for action, and I threw myself at anyone who approached me, jabbing them all as they gathered around me, trying to break up the fight. When I finally realized what I had done, I was outside the store in the streets, dirtied with blood and dust, and Kazama stood beside me, worried. 

I briefly peered in Kazama’s direction, and found his clothes rumpled and dirtied as well. Seeing that, I couldn’t find the strength in myself to look at his face. No, no, no, no, no… not again. Even though I was doing well, why? Where did I go wrong? I messed up again. Even if it’s Kazama, he won’t forgive me so easily this time. Even Kazama will— 

“Kuroda.” Kazama’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “Kuroda, please, look at me.”

I glanced up momentarily, terror in my eyes. Kazama’s cheek was bruised, a splotch of purple under his left eye, obscuring his mole. Suddenly, the memory of a dark, rainy day resurfaced into my mind, the memory that I had most wanted to forget. My eyes distorted Kazama’s features, and instead I saw the image of Yukimura’s tattered face, soaked under the unrelenting pelt of raindrops. I couldn’t stand it. Without listening to what he had to say, I bolted, leaving him standing there, alone, under the setting sun. I was a coward.