Story Title: Thin Walls
Disclaimer: I don't own YYH.
Author's Notes: It is 2/23. The time on my clock reads 5:30 am and yet, the muses of inspiration seem to not respond to the concept of time or sleep. I'm not that tired anyway. At least I'll see a pretty sunrise…I hope you enjoy the story.
Story Title: Thin Walls
My daughter came to breakfast rubbing her eyes, all puffy and red as if she cried herself to sleep last night. As any doting mother would, I put my arm around her, gave her a comforting squeeze, and asked her what was wrong. At first, she said nothing and I let it go, so I could finish my morning coffee stress-free and give her the time to gather the strength to tell me the whole truth. I waited, sitting at the kitchen island, for that moment to arrive and hoped this wouldn't take long.
She spent ten minutes staring at her cereal, which by now was goopy cocoa balls floating in a cold brown soup, and I was draining the last of my first coffee. Finally, her hand took up the spoon, if only to merely stir the milk around. I asked her again if anything was wrong. My daughter fidgeted in her seat, and I could see her contemplating whether to just get it over with or not. All those crime shows where they make a big deal over grilling info out of a suspect haven't realized that mothers have been doing the same for years, and we have it down to a sweet science.
"Eat your breakfast dear," I gently reminded her.
"Momma…" I heard her say. I put down today's newspaper on the countertop and gave her my undivided attention. Readying myself to hear she just had a nightmare and that I would have to rid all the monsters from her room tonight, I wasn't prepared for what she actually asked me to do.
"Can you check up on Mr. Minamino?"
For a moment, I sat surprised with my mouth slightly open. Why in heavens would she ask that? I wondered.
Mr. Minamino was our neighbor. Though we saw one another daily, our conversations were never longer than a hello or a good day. On occasion, he had held the elevator door open for me while my arms were full with groceries, and once he picked the lock of my front door for me when my little girl left the keys inside, so all in all we knew Mr. Minamino to be a kind and gentle young man.
"Why? What's wrong?" I asked. Without looking up from her cereal, she shrugged her shoulders halfheartedly and told me she didn't know.
As a mother, I knew better. There was still something important she wasn't telling me, but try as I might to pry it from her, she had suddenly gone silent. Anyway, seeing no harm in her request, I went next door and knocked. After waiting and knocking a bit more, it was becoming clear to me that perhaps our neighbor wasn't home. As I began to turn away, the lock clicked and the door opened.
"Oh, good morning, Mrs. Mazaki," he said in a half-yawn while rubbing the sleep from his half-raised eyes.
The poor thing was barely awake. With his unruly hair sticking out more than usual and his nightshirt hurriedly buttoned all wrong, he was far from the typical neat and proper Mr. Minamino I was accustomed to.
I bowed and apologized for waking and coming to him so early. "Well, is everything okay?"
He said everything was fine. I breathed a sigh of relief and explained that my daughter asked me to come over and must have just had a nightmare about him. He smiled understandingly and asked me to thank my daughter for her concern.
"Mr. Minamino! Mr. Minamino!" my daughter came running up beside me just as we were about to part ways. She smiled brightly and told him how happy she was to see that he was okay.
I smiled and stroked her head as I asked her why there would be anything wrong with Mr. Minamino.
She spoke rather excitedly and quickly, "'Cause last night, I heard another man fighting with Mr. Minamino. I was afraid that Mr. Minamino was really, really, really hurt 'cause I kept hearing him moaning and groaning all night. I thought you were gonna lose but then I heard the other guy moaning too, so I knew you were gonna be okay. And your room must up all torn up, 'cause things kept banging and getting thrown in the fight, right? Boy, Mr. Minamino, you don't look very tough, but last night you were the man! Just tell me what happened to that other guy?"
As if on cue, a short young man with spiky black hair wearing absolutely nothing stepped out of Mr. Minamino's bedroom, "Kurama, come back to bed already."
I quickly covered my protesting daughter's eyes. All the while my daughter was telling her story, Mr. Minamino had turned several shades of red and his eyes couldn't have grown anymore wider, and by the time his "friend" appeared, our neighbor looked ready to die from embarrassment.
"Excuse me…" Mr. Minamino faintly squeaked as he stepped back and slowly pulled the door close.
"I guess you made up, huh?" my daughter said just as the door was clicking shut loud enough for Mr. Minamino, and just about everyone else, to hear.
I couldn't wait to get back to our apartment. As I shut our door behind me and tried to forget that conversation ever happened, I heard my daughter say, "Now we know Mr. Minamino's first name is Kurama…"
I wonder if I will ever be able to look Mr. Minamino in the eye again…
Without blushing.
–end story