II.
A week after the cinema incident, Yamato saw her again. He was at his mother's place, not the rare occurrence it once was, and volunteered to get the door as the bell rang. He hadn't expected to find Mimi, dressed in a pretty blue dress and white coat, staring back at him.
"Ishida-san," she said, blinking quickly. "Is – is Takeru home?"
"Uh, Mimi-san? I'm sorry, come in," he said, opening the door wide and letting her come inside. "He's running a bit late, I guess," he muttered conversationally. "I don't think he's ready."
He remained standing while Mimi sat down on one of the low couches in the room.
"Oh no, I'm just very early," she paused. "I was nearby and told him I'd meet him here instead."
"I see."
"I didn't think you'd be here."
"We have dinner together once a week."
He didn't know why it was important for Mimi to know that. Perhaps because she had tried so hard before to convince him to reach out to his mother, fix their estranged relationship. Perhaps because somehow he wanted her to know she was partly responsible for this new development.
As if on cue, Mimi smiled at him.
"I'm glad to hear that."
Takeru's head popped out of his doorframe and he sent a scintillating smile Mimi's way.
"Mimi!" he greeted happily, "I'll be right outside."
Yamato watched her smile sweetly at his brother and wave a careless hand.
"Take your time," she told him. "I don't mind waiting."
"Since when do you not mind waiting?" Yamato asked, eyebrows arched high.
She gave him a look but the next second it was gone and in its wake she offered him a small, bland smile. "Since your practices got longer, I guess it doesn't bother me now as it did then."
Somehow, he didn't think he could return her smile. "I guess I was asking for that. I never meant to make you wait, Mi-rin." He looked at her and cleared his throat softly. "Mimi-san," he corrected.
Mimi smiled at him again and he wanted to wipe that smile off her face, ask her why she was giving them away so easily. But then, Mimi had always been easy to smile – especially for him.
"That hardly matters now, does it?"
She stood up as Takeru once again entered the living room. The younger boy was dressed impeccably, his fingers deftly doing the buttons on his gray peacoat. Autumn was giving way to colder winds and coats were a necessity, even in the warm afternoon.
For a moment it seemed to Yamato that Takeru was blushing as he looked at him, but the next moment he was looking at his turned back as he opened the door for Mimi, who was already moving past him.
"Please tell mum I won't make it to dinner," Takeru said over his shoulder, the smile on his lips more pronounced, "We've got plans already."
Yamato nodded but had no time to answer before the door closed on him and he heard them placidly falling into conversation. He listened until their voices faded away.
By the time Natsuko came back from the convenience store, Yamato was already busy in the kitchen, chopping mushrooms and chestnuts and heating up the stove.
"Did you bring the sanma?"
"And daikon," she said, holding out the fish and the fresh white radishes. She walked into the kitchen and set to washing them while her son took care of the rice and it was a while before she casually asked about her other son.
"Takeru won't be joining us for dinner," he commented, taking a small mushroom and cutting it to tiny bits.
"Mimi-chan again?" Natsuko asked with a chuckle. "I'm starting to get jealous."
Yamato declined to comment, but his hand slipped and he almost sliced his finger off. He brought his finger to his mouth, sucking on the wound almost resentfully.
"Yamato, please be more careful," his mother said as she offered him a band-aid. "You can really get hurt."