I picked the spoon back up and dipped it into the soup. Stirred it slowly, watching the surface ripple.

“So,” I asked quietly, “what were you doing all this time?”

“A little of everything.” He shrugged. “Made some phone calls. Talked to people I didn’t want to talk to. Useless conversations.” He paused, then added, “We’ve got a ton of things we need to deal with. The police had the whole area around the fire blocked off. Wrapped it up with that stupid tape of theirs and wouldn’t let anyone take a single step inside. I only found out today that they finally took it down.”

“The police?” I echoed.

“Yeah. I did manage to push them into opening an actual investigation.” He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “At first, they tried to say it was faulty wiring or some bullshit like that. But other people said that they saw someone throw something flammable through the window. Well… those three days weren’t exactly easy.” He looked back at me pointedly. “Eat. Stop poking at it.”

I scooped up some soup and swallowed.

I couldn’t taste a thing.

It felt like I was putting something meaningless into my mouth.

Scoop. Mouth. Swallow.

Again.

And again.

No flavor. No satisfaction.

Kazuo’s face relaxed a little as he watched me.

“Good. At least that’s something.” He hesitated, then added, “You could come with me today. Fresh air might help. If you don’t want to, you can stay here and rest. I just—” He exhaled. “I can’t keep sitting at home. And I might need your help.”

I looked at him, slowly realizing what he wasn’t saying. He didn’t want to leave me alone.

“Sleeping on the couch must’ve sucked,” I muttered.

“The couch?” He waved it off. “Nah. It’s fine. Pretty comfortable, actually. I wasn’t sleeping much anyway. Too much going on.”

I continued eating until the bowl was empty. Kazuo cleaned everything up. I stayed where I was, unmoving. No urge to go back to bed. No urge to do anything at all.

He came over and put his hand on my shoulder.

“So?” he asked gently. “What’s the verdict? I’m heading out. If you’re coming, you should probably get dressed.”

“Dressed?” I frowned. “I don’t think I have any clothes here.”

“I went to your place and grabbed some stuff,” he said easily. “Didn’t take much. It’s by your bed.”

I nodded and stood up on legs that felt like they weren’t mine.

In the bedroom, a small pile of clothes sat neatly on the table. I pulled them on, slipped into my hoodie, pulled the hood up, and went back out.

Kazuo was in the hallway, tying his annoyingly bright sneakers.

“You decided to come?” he said, glancing up. “Good. There’s a ton to deal with. Those messes aren’t going to clean themselves.”

I nodded.

Shoved my hands into my hoodie pockets, felt something crumpled, and pulled it out. It was a disposable mask. Without thinking, I put it on, but the elastic bit into my ear sharply.

I winced and reached up, fingers brushing the skin behind my ear.

A burn.

I looked down at my hands and saw that they were bandaged.

So it had actually happened.

I let out a slow breath and followed Kazuo out the door.

I barely remembered the walk to the bar. The air was cold, and that was about it.

When Kazuo stopped so suddenly that I bumped straight into his back, I realized we’d arrived. I lifted my head and looked at what was left of the place that used to be our home.

It wasn’t even a building anymore, just a heap of charred beams, ash, and blackened wreckage.

Kazuo stood there without taking another step, his whole body trembling. The shaking ran through him in small waves, so obvious that it was clear he couldn’t control it.

I didn’t know what to say. I thought about touching his shoulder. About hugging him. But the thought felt absurd. I barely existed myself. How was I supposed to comfort someone else like this?

Something inside me had burned down with the building. Whatever I was made of had been left there and reduced to ash.

Kazuo took a deep breath and stepped forward. His hands were still shaking, but his voice came out artificially bright.

“Well,” he said, forcing energy into every syllable, “this mess isn’t going to clean itself. Let’s go.”

We crossed the street and stepped onto what used to be our bar.

It was unnaturally quiet. No passersby. No curious onlookers. Maybe the place was cursed now. Maybe people avoided it on instinct.

I moved through the wreckage, stepping over charred wood and broken glass. Shifted burned furniture. Picked through things that had once mattered, but now were nothing more than useless debris.

From somewhere deeper in the ruins, Kazuo called out: “Hey, it’d be nice if we found something that survived. Who knows, maybe an unopened bottle of something. That’d be a treasure, huh?”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t even look up.

I had no strength left to say a word.

Find something that survived. Was he serious? There was nothing left here. Only twisted metal, broken shelves, pieces of what used to be plates, and glasses. I moved through it on autopilot.

Then… Beneath a warped bowl I saw something, and my heart stopped.

It was a half-destroyed fox mask.

My mask.

The one I’d hidden behind for years.

The one that had made me feel safe.

The one that had given me the strength to show up, to talk, to exist at all.

Something tight and painful rose in my throat. I swallowed hard, forcing it back down.

I lifted my gaze.

The mask wasn’t the only thing that had been destroyed that day.

The wall separating the bar from the street was gone too. Completely collapsed. The space where it’d stood was open now, exposed, defenseless. Nothing blocked the view anymore.

Through that opening, I could see the road, the exact spot where his car had been parked.

Where he’d stood, calmly smoking, indifferent to the chaos around him.

Where he’d looked at me like none of this mattered. Like, I didn’t matter.

I couldn’t look there anymore.

I dropped my gaze back to the mask in my hands, and the lump I’d pushed down came back three times stronger.

Tears ran down my cheeks. They fell onto the broken piece of what had once been part of me, soaking into the dust and ash, mixing with the remnants of everything I’d tried to protect.

Everything had burned.

Everything was gone.