Horiki, a college acquaintance of the protagonist in Tokyo, presents himself as a rebellious figure enamored with painting. He draws the protagonist into a world of alcohol, tobacco, and transactional relationships, framing them as antidotes to existential dread. Their bond is laced with financial opportunism, as Horiki frequently borrows money, hinting at self-serving motives. Yet the protagonist accepts this dynamic, drawn to the chaos Horiki embodies.

Following the protagonist’s suicide attempt, Horiki withdraws, his initial response marked by icy detachment and avoidance. Yet he later resurfaces, reigniting their cycle of heavy drinking. Despite his erratic loyalty, Horiki plays a role in a critical juncture, joining another character in a decisive act—escorting the protagonist to a psychiatric ward—a gesture suggesting muddled but sincere intent.

His influence deepens the protagonist’s unraveling. In a pivotal exchange, he dismisses Tsuneko as “tired and poverty-stricken,” inadvertently sparking the protagonist’s momentary kinship with others trapped in hardship. Later, a rare, subdued smile from Horiki upon witnessing the protagonist’s deteriorating health stirs unexpected emotion, encapsulating his dual role: a harbinger of ruin and an occasional anchor in desolation. His behavior oscillates between exploitation and fragmented compassion, leaving the protagonist caught between fleeting solace and the weight of their corrosive alliance.