The death of an old friend. The news hit Osaka hard. She held the phone limply in her hand as she heard her friend on the other end break down into sobs. Like any disaster, the event itself was only the beginning, and the aftermath is where the pain truly set in. Hearing Chiyo cry over the phone, knowing that she was not there with her, was something Osaka would never forget. The feelings of helplessness, of guilt, and the pain, both empathetic and personal.
"Mr Tadakichi...was a good dog. An'...he lived a good life." Osaka could not think of anything else to say. Her reassurance felt insincere when spoken over the phone.
"I...I know." Chiyo said quietly through the tears. She thought that she had done all her crying when they laid her old companion to rest. But having to tell Osaka, who she felt deserved to know, had opened the floodgates once more.
"Mr Tadakichi, he was a man of character; Ah'm sure he loved goin' t' America with ya, Chiyo. Travelin' the world with his bestest friend, Ah'll bet it made him real happy." Osaka spoke as though she were delivering a eulogy. Chiyo's sobbing slowed.
"Whenever my parents would go out together or go away on business and leave me at home, Mr Tadakichi was the only company I had…" Chiyo said quietly. "And now I'm alone again."
"You've still got me, Chiyo." Osaka spoke softly. Chiyo became silent. "Chiyo, would you...like me t' tell Miss Sakaki?" It took a few moments for a response to come back.
"No, I want to tell her myself, even if it's by phone." Chiyo let out a shaky breath. "But would you mind if I called you again later?"
"Ya'll can call me anytime ya want, Chiyo! Ah'm here for ya." Osaka said with a smile.
"That means a lot to me. And...thank you, Ayumu." With that, Chiyo hung up. Osaka sat with the phone in her hand for several moments.
"Anything for you, Chiyo."