“Tell me again.”
I sigh. It’s been three years since I started working the night shift, but my parents still make me recite the rules. Dad leans against the entrance to the kitchen, arms folded, the keys for the noodle shop clutched in his fist. At the stove behind him, Kei gives each pot of broth a final taste. They keep their back to us, but I know they’re listening.
“Satoshi.” Dad snaps his fingers at me. “We don’t have all night.”
“Fine.” I shove my hands into my pockets.
“One: every customer must be served. Two: pay attention to the radio. And three: never open the door for anyone who knocks.”
The instructions are easy enough. I’m the only one who works here after midnight, but the customers are patient. My parents helped at first; they’d alternate each time, helping me serve meals until I could run the shop on my own. After six months with no mistakes, they moved me to the night shift permanently.
Dad tosses me the keys, grinning when they hit me square in the chest. The silver bell keychain jingles obnoxiously.
“Quit bullying him, Minoru.” Kei turns down the heat beneath each pot and moves to stand next to us. They reach for the hem of dad’s jacket, zipping it up in one fluid movement. He rolls his eyes. Kei gives me a quick once-over.
“Have you had dinner?” they ask, gently fixing my hair. Their touch is cool against my skin. I nod, a motion met with a hum of approval. Kei crooks a finger at me, and when I lean down, they place a kiss on my forehead. Dad takes them by shoulders, giving me a pointed look before steering his partner out from behind the register.
As the two of them make their way to the front, Kei turns on the radio sitting atop the counter. Kyu Sakamoto’s rich voice begins to fill the restaurant.
“I look up while I walk…”
“We’re heading out, Toshi. Be smart,” Kei calls from the door. They take dad by the arm. The windchime above the entrance sings goodbye. I wave until my parents are out of sight, their retreating figures swallowed up by the fog. On nights like this, I’m glad they have each other; it’d be a mistake to walk home alone.
“So the tears won't fall…”
I fry tofu while waiting to open. It’s our most popular side dish, and with the weather getting cold, there’ll be more customers asking for it.
“Remembering those spring days…”
The clock strikes one.
Kyu Sakamoto’s voice warps, his crooning garbled by a stuttering radio signal. I look outside. Something is crawling around in the fog. Even in the poor lighting, I can tell it has far too many limbs to be human. Still, it’s time. I take a deep breath and unlock the door.
“But tonight I'm all alone—
I’m all alone—
I’m all alone—”