"Is father going to be okay?"

Honoka knew that question was probably going to come up sooner or later, but she was nevertheless not entirely prepared to talk about it, least of all with a child. She racked her brain trying to think how best to explain things to her without giving her a false impression, be it of hope or fear.

"I think he needs time to recover from what happened. He's afraid. I think everyone is," she replied, in a slow and uncertain manner. Minami got the feeling there was context she was missing, and so she asked "what happened?"

Honoka felt as though she had stepped on a landmine. There was no easy way to spin this and retain her daughter's trust - a viral currency, especially as puberty sets in and a child tries to define themselves in adult terms. She put it as gently as she could without making any serious omissions. "A close friend of his, a man he'd worked with for many years... he was still somewhere in that building when the plane hit it. We don't know if he'll be alright or not. But your father's afraid for him. And he feels like it's his fault his friend might die."

Minami felt her heart sink. "Daddy would never let someone he loves get hurt. He'd do whatever he could to help. He couldn't have done anything to put his friend in danger, right?"

Honoka nodded. "That's what I told him. But... when you see that happen, and you think about the little things that happened earlier on, sometimes you just feel like you could've stopped it somehow. You know in your brain you can't, but in your heart..."

The calm and collected facade on her face was wearing thin. Hearing her husband so torn up by guilt over something that wasn't his fault, unable to even mourn without feeling awful for making it all about one life in an event that had claimed so many more, and not even being able to so much as give him a reassuring smile or give him a shoulder to cry on was a strong contender for the worst event in her life to date. And she felt weak for being so torn up when it could just as easily have been her in mourning, her husband pulverised or burnt to a crisp in the crash; to say nothing of the pressure she felt to be her family's emotional rock, their ever-dependable lifeline in times of difficulty. It would be one thing if it was just her feeling anxious and she could go to Chikao for reassurance. But he needed her help more than she needed his. She hadn't lost anyone. She had a duty to her family, and she would not allow herself to fail the standard she had set herself.

Nevertheless, she did not have a heart of stone. She was as human and vulnerable as anyone else, and the stress she was under was significant. After several seconds, she broke the silence. "He feels a lot like you did earlier, Minami. Like he hurt someone he cared deeply about, and that he should have been the one up there. Neither of you are to blame for any of this. I want you to understand that, and I know you'll do your best to help your father understand that, just like he'll help you."

"But I want you and him both to treat yourselves with kindness too."

Those words hit Minami like a sack of bricks. She wasn't really used to thinking about mercy or kindness as something that could be extended to one's self, only to others. She looked to her mother's eyes, and hers met them. "Can you do that for me, Minami?"

The young girl felt deep uncertainty. She had so many of her own anxieties about who she was, even before last night. She could promise nothing. But she knew her mother wasn't one to ask much of people, and that this was really important to her.

"I'll try my best, mama."

Honoka smiled warmly, tears welling up in her eyes. "Thanks, sweetie. I'm really proud of you."

The two shared a long embrace before Minami retired to her bed to process everything that had happened.