It's not like I resent my dad or anything. In fact, I would say that I love him more than most people love their own dads. He's raised me alone ever since my mom died, and that's pretty admirable considering the way he lived before that. He always thinks about me before he thinks about himself, and he does his best to make sure I have everything I need and want.

But still, sometimes I wish that my mom was still around. If she was, I think my life would've been a lot easier. If she had more of a hand in raising me, I probably would've been a different person. I might not obsess over anime or manga, I might have more interest in school, I might have a sister, I might be more of a girl. My mother would've helped my father raise me, help me become a better person.

Not to say that I'm that unhappy with how things are right now. I think it's safe to say that I'm definitely unique, and I have good friends, and I love my family, but does that make it wrong to wish I had someone else to take care of me?

I don't know how it feels to have a mom standing over me, protective yet loving. I want to know how it feels to have a mom to hug me, to brush my hair, to be proud of the things I've accomplished. To eat her home-made meals, and to have her teach me how to cook just the way she does.

I've never had anyone to do those things for me. I'd do anything, if I could just have my mom back.

Maternal

I had no trouble waking up today. Although I'm the type of person to spend at least half of their morning routine trying to shake off the effects of sleep, today my mind was clear as soon as I regained consciousness. I've found out in the past that if I actually wake up only to fall asleep again, then it won't take long for me to wake up a second time. It's sort of like turning your computer on, then doing something else while it actually boots up.

I slowly sat up and pushed my blanket off, at which point I realized I wasn't in my usual nightwear; instead of a t-shirt and shorts, I was wearing my red and yellow flower-print yukata.

Seeing that made me think about yesterday's festival, and I started to remember what had happened that led to.. being safely tucked into my bed?

"Didn't I fall asleep outside, or something like that?" I wondered. I tried to come up with a reason for suddenly being at home, but I could only think of one thing. I kicked my legs out of bed, then stood up and made my way to the door.

Once it was open, I almost instinctually knew that I wasn't alone in the house. I couldn't see anyone yet, but I could just barely hear someone downstairs, and I could sort of just feel that someone was here with me. It couldn't be my dad- he was out for work or something- and it couldn't be Yutaka, since she was at her friend's house. That confirmed my suspicion that someone who wasn't a family member had brought me home.

Although a stranger couldn't possibly have known where I live, let alone have access to my house, I made sure not to broadcast my presence before I found out who I was dealing with.

I tiptoed down the stairs, and the noise I had heard earlier grew louder and clearer until I recognized them as the sounds of someone using the kitchen. I paused for a moment, hearing running water and the clattering of dishware. I caught myself right before I walked into the open, right at the bottom of the stairs.

I held my breath as I turned the corner, just in case I had some instinctive dramatic reaction when I found out who the 'intruder' was.

To say my reaction was dramatic, maybe not, but I was still surprised at who I saw. Even with her hair down instead of being tied in its usual ponytail, it was hard to mistake my homeroom teacher for someone else.

I watched her for a little while as she efficiently washed the dishes, soaping each one and rinsing it under the water before setting it on the dish rack.

Stepping out from behind the wall, I noticed that the table was set for two. I stopped, having realized I had no idea what I was going to do even if I didn't want to be noticed.

"So, you're finally up?"

Her voice broke the silence, and she turned around to smile at me. I couldn't say what surprised me more- the fact that she knew I was there, or the relaxed expression she wore.

"Y-yeah.." I nodded, still unsure what to think of the situation.

"Late sleeper, huh? Thought so. Sit down, I made breakfast," she told me, casually turning away to finish washing the dishes.

I nodded again, even though she couldn't see me. At first I approached the table hesitantly, like it would flee if I moved too quickly. In a moment I realized that there was no point in being so cautious. I shook my head and mentally slapped myself. Stop acting like an idiot.. It's not like there's a bomb on your chair or something.

I pulled out a chair and seated myself, hoping my surprise would go unnoticed. Sure, it was strange to wake up to a traditional breakfast cooked by my teacher of all people, but it was even stranger to wake up to what appeared to be a well-made breakfast cooked by my teacher of all people.

"Hey, just because I'm a single woman living in an apartment doesn't mean I don't know how to cook simple stuff," she read my mind. Having completed the task of pre-cleanup, she sat down in front of me with a smirk. She pushed her hair back and winked. "Thanks for the food."

After a split second of hesitation, I repeated after her, "Thanks for the food," then started to eat.

While the food itself wasn't anything above average, I couldn't help but feel like there was something different about sitting at the breakfast table with my teacher. It wasn't weird in a bad way, but it definitely wasn't something I was used to.

Maybe due to the lack of a conversation, my thoughts went back to last night, which she had not brought up yet most likely to give me some time to think. She had to have been the one to find me and bring me home, so I owed her an explanation. Swallowing my food, I made up my mind and decided I would tell her what happened.

Both of us finished eating at relatively the same time. But just as I was about to open my mouth she beat me to it. She put her chopsticks down and looked up at me. "So, Izumi. Mind telling me what happened last night?" She asked. "It's not everyday I find one of my students alone, passed out at a festival."

I met her eyes for a couple moments, but I made sure to casually look away before replying, "Nothing. I was just.. sleepy."

"Really now?" She looked right at me.

"Umm.." I couldn't form a proper reply, but her stare was unrelenting. Quickly, it became difficult to think about anything but coming up with a way to get those eyes off of me.

Before I was about to start talking to stall for time, she sighed. Just like that, the pressure was gone.

"Seriously, Izumi. Everybody might joke about you being a handful, but try not to get yourself into trouble like that. It's all thanks to luck that I happened to walk past when I did. What woulda happened if, say, some random bully spotted you?" She shrugged. "Hey, am I right in assuming that something happened? I can't even imagine you to be the type of person to fall asleep in such a bad place just because you were tired."

".. Yeah, more or less," I answered vaguely.

"So, more or less what?" She pressed.

"I was feeling down, and I wanted to get away from all the commotion."

"And that led to you falling asleep back behind some tents?"

".. Yes."

She sighed again, obviously unsatisfied with my explanation. I knew there was no chance of her letting this slide as easily as my day-to-day tardiness.

Instead of continuing with the blunt-force approach, she sat back in her chair and sighed through her nose. "You had me scared for a little bit. It really threw me for a loop when I saw you laid out on the ground like that."

"Sorry.. I didn't mean to make anybody worry," I apologized automatically. Almost immediately, I realized how out of character the words sounded when I played them back in my mind. She didn't comment, so I couldn't be sure whether or not she noticed.

"Yeah.. After panicking for like, three minutes, I remembered that I had your dad's phone number!" She snapped her fingers and grinned. "I called him and explained what was going on, and he told me how to get into your house," she said. Her hand went into a pocket and came out with a keyring that I recognized as the backup that was usually hidden around the side of the house somewhere. "Can't believe people still use these. Pretty convenient, though."

"Couldn't you have just gone to your apartment? Why did you go through the extra trouble of calling my dad and asking him where the keys are?" I asked her.

"Well, about that.." She laughed and put a hand on the back of her head, the cliché pose of sheepishness. "I didn't want to risk my neighbors seeing me enter my apartment carrying an unconscious high-school girl.."

"I see where you're coming from," I matched her expression with my own grin.

She said the after-meal phrase, then stood up and started to collect the dishes. I was about to help out, but she motioned for me to sit down. Even though I felt a little bad for having her do all of the work herself, I didn't argue.

While she washed the dishes, I kept thinking about what I should tell her. I didn't want to lie to her, and she'd probably know if I was anyways, but for some reason I felt a little uncomfortable about telling her. After all, what happened last night wasn't a fight or any sort of kidnapping attempt; it all happened because my inner-defeatist decided to show up and fill my head with despair.

"Do you brush your hair every morning?" She asked me out of nowhere. Startled by the sudden question, I realized that she was already finished with the dishes and had already walked back into the main room.

"Yeah, unless I don't have time to brush it," I answered.

"Huh. Can you reach all of it by yourself?" She asked again.

"It's easier when I'm sitting down, but it still takes around fifteen minutes."

"I see. Let me do your hair for you, then."

"Uh, alright."

I was a little confused about all the attention she was giving me, but I had no problems with it, so I accepted her offer.

She started to groom my hair, humming as she used her thin fingers and my brush to get rid of the tangles and knots that had formed while I slept. Usually I had to fix my hair by myself, since my dad had stopped helping me once I turned nine or ten.

Completely out of nowhere, almost like an afterthought, I remembered that there was school today. I asked her, but she shook her head and told me not to worry about it.

I found it relaxing to sit back and let her work out the knots and kinks for me. Taking care of my hair on my own was something I enjoyed doing, but I wasn't opposed to having someone else do it for me. Definitely not. With the exception of having my dad help me, I can't remember a time when someone has given it as much care as right now.

"Thank you." I expected her to be surprised at my breaking the silence randomly, but instead she kept on brushing my hair, like she didn't care.

"No problem," she said. There was a short pause, then a quiet, subdued sort of laugh. Not a scared laugh or a nervous one, but one that was sort of.. pleasant and surprised, I guess you could say. "I sort of feel like a mom right now. Making breakfast, brushing hair.. Aren't those things that a mom would do for her daughter?"

I stayed silent. She kept talking.

"To be honest, I've dreamed of being a mother since I was, what, fourteen? The idea of taking care of someone was for some reason really appealing to me back then," she said. "But at the same time, I sort of just knew that there was a lot of responsibility involved. Later, I sort of realized that I only wanted to be part of the happy moments, and not have to deal with the tough stuff."

She laughed again, but this time it sounded almost like she was laughing at herself more than anything.

"I never realized that dream, if you can't tell. If you want my opinion, I don't think I would be able to take care of a kid. I've fantasized about it and always told myself 'someday it will happen', but it never did. I'm sort of glad, because I think I would end up running away from all the responsibilities. Having a husband was- still is my goal, but I've thought about what would happen if they just disappeared and left me with the children. I've thought about that too, and I came to the conclusion that I wouldn't be able to handle it. I'd probably start to break down when things got tough. I would probably be a terrible-"

"No!" I cut her off, surprising myself as well as her. "D.. don't say that."

"... Why not?" Her voice was quiet. For a moment I actually thought about it, but after coming up with no explanation I realized there was no need. The simplest way to explain it was I did not wanther to complete that sentence.

She might have been right. She might have been wrong. I didn't know nor did I care about whether or not it was true, so I followed the whisper of my heart.

"Because.. because, right now, I feel.. I feel.." My voice cracked, caught in my throat, and stopped working completely. I forced myself to swallow once, then twice. Although it felt like I was taking ages to find my words, it was like she understood. She didn't say anything, just waited. Waited for me to finish what I wanted to say.

Finally, I regained my voice.

"Right now, it feels like you're.. a mom. My mom."

After saying that, it was silent for what seemed like half of an eternity. For a moment I wished I could've taken it back, but that thought was dashed when I felt a gentle hand squeeze my shoulder.

She had finished brushing my hair. In the corner of my vision, her arm went past my shoulder and set the brush down on the table.

"You really think so?" She asked in a whisper.

"Yes. Really!" I smiled and rose to my feet, turning around so that I could see her.

Her lips moved silently, as if she was trying to speak but nothing was coming out. Our eyes met, and for a second it was like a string had been drawn between us. To my surprise, she was the one to break eye contact.

"Oh, come here.." Even though she was trying to look away, I could see the smile growing on her face. ".. Konata."

I wanted to say something, anything, but my voice wouldn't cooperate. I felt something in my eyes, then sliding down my cheek. I blinked it away, but I couldn't get rid of the feeling.

"Mo.. Mom.. Mother.." I stumbled over my own speech, unable to stop myself from hiccupping in between words. I didn't like this feeling of not being able to properly say what I was trying to say. It made me feel pathetic.

Then, without any sound or warning, she was there. Tilting my chin up so I was forced to meet her eyes, her finger lightly traced the invisible, wet line that was left by my tears.

Her mouth formed a smile that I only saw for a couple seconds, because I was suddenly pulled into a hug. I might have gasped a little at the unexpectedness of the gesture, but I felt strangely comfortable. The warmth of her body and the way I wanted more.. It was a new feeling I could easily grow addicted to.

All my barriers, all my shields, all the conditioning that went into building a wall around my emotions- it all vanished, just because of this contact with her. Yet, it didn't seem to matter. I hid my face in her shirt, and my arms moved on their own, wrapping around her to return the embrace.

"Thank you.." My voice came out as a whisper, but somehow I was sure she could hear.

"You're welcome, Konata," she whispered back. "Any time.. any time."

"Thank you.. Mom.. I love you, thank you.. thank you so much.."

She didn't ask about the festival again. I'll tell her eventually, because I'm sure the time will come when I'm comfortable with telling her everything.

But for the rest of that day, she didn't ask. I didn't bring it up. She didn't leave until next morning.

When the time finally came, she left with a hug, smiled, and a wave goodbye. I was left with a warm, content feeling in my chest.