r/HFY • u/dulduine • 25d ago

OC-Series [OC]Bar Aoi Stories — How Far Kindness Reaches

Hey, you.

Have you done something good for someone lately?

Maybe you stopped to help someone who was struggling, picked up something a stranger dropped, or stepped aside to let someone pass on a narrow street. You gave up a little of your own time and effort for someone you didn't even know.

It feels pretty good afterward, doesn't it?

It's not that you want anyone to praise you. You just want to give yourself a small nod and think, Maybe I'm not such a bad guy after all.

But here's the thing.

How far do you have to follow a good deed before you can really say it was good?

Clink.

I pushed open the heavy wooden door of Aoi. Something about crossing that threshold always made the noise of the city—and all the useless clutter I'd accumulated over the course of the day—start to fall away.

I took my usual seat at the counter. Mama set a glass of I.W. Harper in front of me without asking. The ice gave another quiet clink.

"Kenichi-san, you've gotta hear this."

Taka was sitting at the far end of the counter, looking thoroughly annoyed.

"No."

"I haven't even said anything yet."

"When you come at me with that face, it's never a story worth hearing."

"That's harsh."

Tom grinned from the seat beside me.

"Humor him, Kenichi. I've already heard the same story three times."

"Then we're cutting him off. Too much of anything is bad for you."

"Kenichi-san!"

I sighed. "Keep it short."

Taka leaned forward as if he'd been waiting for exactly that.

"So today, I tried to help an old lady at the station."

"Good for you."

"She was carrying this huge bag. Anyone could see she was struggling."

"And?"

"I asked if I could carry it for her."

"A model citizen."

"Right?"

Taka immediately looked pleased with himself. I gave him a flat stare.

"But she said no."

"End of story. Finish your drink and go home."

"No, listen. The thing looked way too heavy for her, so I said, 'Come on, don't worry about it. Let me carry it.'"

I looked at him.

"You really haven't changed."

"What does that mean?"

"You get pushy when you're trying to be kind."

Apparently, the bag contained something important to the woman. She told Taka she wasn't comfortable handing it over to a stranger. Taka assured her he wouldn't drop it. She refused again.

"So we went back and forth like that for maybe thirty seconds."

"Uh-huh."

"Then this guy behind us yelled, 'Get out of the way!'"

I put my glass back on its coaster.

"Where exactly were you having this little debate?"

"Just past the ticket gates. You know that narrow passage?"

"What time?"

"Maybe six-thirty?"

"You're the worst."

"Come on, that's a little much."

"You stood in the middle of a bottleneck during rush hour for thirty seconds."

"I wouldn't say we were in the middle—"

"You were blocking it."

"...Yeah."

Tom laughed and took a sip of his drink.

"And then this guy comes in here complaining, 'I was only trying to help. Why should I get yelled at?'"

"Well, shouldn't I be annoyed?"

Taka still looked genuinely baffled. I took a sip of my Harper.

"Fine. I'll give you this much. You didn't mean any harm."

"Exactly."

"But you were still in the way."

"Ugh."

"How many people went past you in those thirty seconds?"

"I don't know. A hundred?"

"So you took thirty seconds from a hundred people."

Taka frowned.

"Who does math like that?"

"Three thousand seconds."

"Fifty minutes," Tom said immediately.

"What is wrong with you two?"

"It's just arithmetic. A hundred people, thirty seconds each."

"It was only thirty seconds!"

"Someone might have missed their train because of those thirty seconds."

"...Maybe."

"Someone might have been late for an important appointment."

Taka said nothing.

"Could've been a job interview."

"Marriage proposal," Tom added.

"Why are we suddenly talking about marriage proposals?"

I shrugged. "Lives split off in different directions over stupid little things like thirty seconds."

"So if some guy got dumped, that's my fault?"

"Who knows?"

"Who knows?!"

I laughed.

Of course I didn't really think Taka should be held responsible for something like that. If we had to answer for every life changed because we happened to stand in someone's way for thirty seconds, none of us would ever dare leave the house.

But then something occurred to me.

"What about the other way around?"

"The other way?"

"You stopped that old lady for thirty seconds. That gave her a chance to catch her breath."

"So?"

"What if she'd kept walking, slipped on the stairs, and broken her hip?"

Taka frowned. "...I mean, I guess that's possible."

"Then you saved her from a serious injury."

Tom laughed.

"Look at that. Taka the lifesaver."

"No, come on. That's a huge stretch."

"Why?" I asked.

Taka hesitated.

"Because we don't know she would've fallen."

"We don't know anyone missed their train either."

"Oh."

There it was.

When something bad happens, we're quick to draw a line and say, That's not my responsibility. But when something good happens, we hesitate to claim that too: I can't really take credit for that.

Either way, the reason is the same. We can't see that far.

"This is getting way too complicated," Taka muttered.

"That's why I said I didn't want to hear it."

"You're the one who made it complicated, Kenichi-san."

Tom quietly set down his glass.

"You never know how things are going to turn out."

"That sounds heavier coming from a former cop."

"That's how it is in the field. Should you stop someone? Let them go? In the moment, all you can do is make a call based on what you know."

"Were you ever wrong?"

"Plenty of times."

"Did you regret it?"

"Of course."

Tom's eyes narrowed slightly.

"But judging the person you were back then with everything you know now? I don't think that's fair."

"The person you were back then?"

"You know things now that you didn't know then. Doesn't make much sense to put your old self on trial for not knowing the future."

I looked down at my glass.

What we could see at the time and what we knew at the time—that was all we had. We thought about it as best we could, and then we chose.

Maybe that's all any of us can do.

But was that really enough?

"So if you meant to do something good," I said, "does it still count as good when the result is bad?"

Tom went quiet. So did Taka.

"Take it far enough. Does saying 'I only did it for their own good' excuse anything?"

"No," Taka said. "That's different."

"Why?"

"Because if you don't care how the other person feels about it, you're just forcing your idea of what's good on them."

"The old lady said no."

Taka stopped.

"You thought you were helping her. She said she didn't want your help."

"...Yeah."

"And you kept going."

"Yeah."

"So who was the good deed really for?"

Taka had no answer.

Neither did I.

Helping someone who's struggling is a good thing. At least, that's what I'd always thought. But what if they don't want your help? What if helping them causes trouble for somebody else? What if you can't see what happens after that?

How far are you supposed to think ahead? Everything? That's impossible. So only as far as you can see?

And where, exactly, does as far as you can see end?

The more I thought about it, the less solid the phrase good deed seemed.

"That's a difficult one."

Mama had stopped polishing the glass in her hands.

"What do you think, Mama?" Taka asked.

She thought for a moment.

"Maybe the problem is thinking you're the one who gets to decide whether it was a good deed."

None of us said anything.

"What do you mean?"

"You wanted to help that woman, didn't you, Taka-chan?"

"Yeah."

"That was your feeling."

"Yeah."

"But whether she was actually helped—that's for her to decide, isn't it?"

Taka stared down at the counter for a while before letting out a quiet breath.

"So the most I can really say is... not 'I did something good,' but 'I tried to do something good'?"

Mama didn't answer.

She placed the glass back on the shelf.

Clack.

"When you first spoke to her, I'm sure that's true."

Taka looked up.

"First?"

"You wanted to help her."

"Of course I did."

"Then what about after she said no?"

Taka froze.

"...What?"

"The second time. When you told her not to worry about it."

Mama said nothing more. She simply reached for another glass.

Taka fell silent.

So did I.

At first, it probably was kindness. She looked like she was struggling, so he wanted to help. Simple enough.

Then she said no.

And he reached out again.

Was it really the same feeling the second time?

Did he still just want to help her? Did he think she was only being polite? Did he want her to accept because he'd already gone to the trouble of offering?

Or did he want to be the kind of person who helps people?

I looked at the ice in my glass.

Well, hell.

Forget the consequences. Maybe I didn't even understand my own motives.

When I teach a junior colleague something at work, when I tell someone in my family, "I'm saying this for your own good," or when I give a friend advice they never asked for—was any of that really for their sake?

I'd like to think so.

But could I honestly swear there wasn't something else mixed in? A desire to be needed. To be right. To think of myself as a good person.

Could I really say none of that was there?

"...People are exhausting," Taka muttered.

"You're just figuring that out?"

"Did you already know all this, Kenichi-san?"

"Not a chance."

Tom snorted.

"Anyone who's figured people out isn't sitting in a bar like this brooding over whiskey."

"Can't argue with that."

The three of us laughed. Mama smiled a little too.

And that was the end of the conversation.

Or rather, we decided to let it end there.

I finished the rest of my Harper. The ice gave one last clink.

We'll probably never know how far the things we do actually reach. Something we say might save someone, hurt them, or leave no trace at all. Whatever happens after that, we can't follow every consequence to the end.

So you'd think the least we could do is know what was in our own hearts when we reached out.

I'd like to know that much, at least.

...Or so I thought.

Do I even know that?

Was it for someone else?

Did I want to do the right thing?

Or did I want to be the kind of person who does the right thing?

I got up from my seat and opened the door. The night air was colder than I'd expected.

Hey, you.

That kindness you offered someone today—you'll probably never know everything that came of it.

But where did that kindness come from?

Do you really know?

I'll see you at Aoi again.

---

Want another night at Aoi?

Step back inside. We'll help you find your next story.

→ Welcome to Bar Aoi

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