Shizuko, a widowed journalist employed by a magazine tied to Horiki—a persistent figure in the protagonist’s orbit—has single-handedly raised her young daughter, Shigeko, since her husband’s death years earlier. Drawn to the protagonist’s melancholic aura, which she mistakes for raw sincerity, she invites him into her home through Horiki’s professional network, providing both shelter and financial support. As the protagonist gradually assumes a paternal role for Shigeko, the child’s longing for her biological father sparks his abrupt departure, cementing his belief that his presence destabilizes their fragile equilibrium.

Shizuko’s efforts to impose order on his chaotic existence include brokering conversations with Horiki and an associate about formalizing their relationship through marriage. Her past harbors a fleeting suicidal impulse: overwhelmed after a taxing assignment, she nearly steps before a train, only halted by a stranger’s intervention. She resumes her routine without visible turmoil, masking inner struggles beneath pragmatic resolve.

Her narrative closes with the protagonist’s exit, returning her to solitary devotion to Shigeko. A recurring symbol—a torn kite snared in telegraph wires outside her apartment—haunts the protagonist’s memories, embodying transient yet tenacious bonds. This imagery mirrors Shizuko’s fleeting role as a provisional anchor in his unraveling world.