A/N: Forgive me, in advance, for this being a short chapter after a SIX MONTH hiatus! (Now we know how Naoi felt without Yuri.) The next two chapters will be pretty long, so let's just ease back into it, shall we? Updates won't be weekly but I'm making progress. HC has officially replaced TPS as my main weekend focus. Thank you so much to ZainR, HorriBlu, KyodaLover, and Jdog4161 for the reviews!
ZainR: I replied back then, but am happily reeling over the fact that since the beach thing, we've seen Shiruba's violin skills up close and personal! :D This is why I love having a prequel. Also glad you focused on Kanade's interest and her mother's maiden name. Tsukimori is pretty, isn't it? Memorable. Moon-related. Perfect for a family of that hair color. (Otonashi thought so too, about Chaa being brotherly! Funnily enough, in one secret fic, Chaa's like a father figure to Yuri. The wife nickname still throws me off, but I like their bond.)
HorriBlu: The Battlefront's wondering the same thing, that's for sure. A death in the family can really make things stutter to a stop. But there's only a month left until the concert and there's still at least the three T's to find (a coincidence, likely, but fun to say), so the show must go on. Perhaps with or without Naoi - he certainly has a lot on his mind.
KyodaLover: Okay, right off the bat, I absolutely love the username. Favorite Clannad/AB crossover pairing by far. Noda needs love too! But also your review gave me so much joy, especially as an angst-lover. Forever grateful to the potion thing in OUAT for mingling perfectly with Naoi's issues and NaYuri's complicated feelings for each other and breaking my own heart so hard that the pain had to be shared. Thank you for sharing in my heartbreak! :')
Jdog4161: Oh yeah, the vid was deleted a couple of years ago, I think? You can still find essentially what it was, in their ten minute "Yuri Nakamura (emoji heart) Ayato Naoi" vid. Second one, two and a half minutes in? The "Still In Love" one. Also, very fun fact about the second half of that quote! I can even hear it in Naoi's voice, what a roast that would've been... And even without context for Code Geass, a parody with that exchange between Ayato and Kimito would've been epic. Super satisfying if that had been Kimito's last word. Thank you so much for your feedback, btw! No worries on not reviewing every chapter - as a fic reader myself, I wouldn't have the energy for that. Four reviews was a huge blessing to me. Majorly appreciate that you read this much and came along for the ride!
One last stop before we tackle the funeral, so welcome back, and enjoy!
[Chapter 64]: Bittersweet Bakery
Kimito Naoi's remains emerged from the crematorium, bones scorched and smoking amidst clumps of ash.
Fingers locked with Yuri's, Ayato had watched with a sick fascination when the body slid inside. It was like watching the once renowned potter disappear into a kiln of his own. Despite how his father treated human flesh, with pressure and rough hands and manipulation, it sure didn't burn like clay. Though in his darker thoughts, Ayato had played with the idea of making something from the ashes. A ceramic pot that could easily be dashed against a wall.
With Kimito there was no proper funeral to wait for, so they'd had his cremation today. He and Yuri picked through the bones and gathered the ashes and were done with it. They headed back to the Nakamuras' house with the urns and some breakfast they'd picked up from the Maeda café while Kimito's body was being fired up.
"A fine start to a Monday," Ayato sighed, dropping a leftover bag on the counter.
Yuri leaned against the counter, sipping her coffee and watching him as he went to set his father's remains down somewhere her parents didn't eat. "So, what's the plan for the rest of the day?" she asked.
"Still a few more calls, preparations to make." His arms free, he promptly went to the couch to fish the address book out of his bag. "If it has to be Tuesday and Wednesday..."
"You heard Ami. Can't have the funeral on a Tomobiki day like Thursday or it'll be bad luck."
Ayato scoffed as he joined her in the kitchen. "I think we've had our fair share of bad luck already."
"Don't tempt fate." She picked up the address book as soon as he let it flop on the counter, and absently skimmed the pages before looking up at him. "She did say you could've waited until Saturday since it's a Butsumetsu."
"Not Saturday," Ayato replied, digging into his bag and taking a bite of a pastry. Saturdays were Battlefront days. Even if he didn't know how the next one was going to go, or if he'd be part of it. He wasn't going to do that.
Yuri shrugged. "Not Saturday, then." As if reading his mind, she studied him over the top of her drink. "But they'd all come, even so. It's not like it's some inconvenience. You know that, right?"
Ayato slowed his chewing. Stared at the pastry in his hand. It suddenly seemed too dry, and it left a sour taste in his mouth. He swallowed hard and unceremoniously dropped it back into the bag.
"I can't finish this," he muttered.
"Huh…?"
Shaking his head, he crumpled up the bag. "Maeda's was never as good as theirs."
Yuri's eyes glinted in understanding. "You want to go to Aoki's?" she said, though it was more of a statement than a question. When he nodded in confirmation, she went to pick her purse back up. "Alright, give me a minute, I just have to—"
She was cut off in mid-sentence by the buzzing of her phone, which vibrated through her purse and made her recoil in bemusement. Then she reached in, grabbed her phone, and glanced at the screen. The look on her face suggested she had suffered mild electrocution.
"It's my dad," she said, clearly trying not to sound too dumbfounded.
Ayato averted his eyes to the clock on the stove. "About time," he said under his breath.
"What's that?"
"Nothing." The phone kept ringing in her hand. "You should probably take that."
Yuri nodded, still looking down at the phone. She opened the address book to the page he'd left off at and bookmarked with a funeral to-do list. "Maybe I'll just go by there later. If you're not back by the time I'm done, I'll cover you."
He thanked her, then turned and headed down the hallway while Yuri accepted the call. Her voice grew soft and sober as she greeted her father, fading in the distance as he reached the foyer—
"Wait, what do you mean you already talked to him? When?!"
Ayato winced and quickly shut the front door behind him.
The little strawberry cream cake-shaped bell jingled as it always did when he opened the door and stepped hesitantly through the threshold.
It smelled like Masayo Kitamura's kitchen in here, like the mingled scents of berries and sugar and vanilla. And presently he thought it strange that he would think of it that way. That the shop smelled like Yui's mom's home and not a place where he'd worked for a significant period of time post-graduation. That his mind had gone there first, and associations had changed.
So many things had changed…
Footsteps drew him out of that train of thought, and Ayato instinctively glanced toward the doorway next to the register. After a few seconds, a woman emerged from the kitchen area, her thick cinnamon brown hair tied in a neat and elegant updo. She hadn't taken more than a few steps when suddenly she stopped in her tracks and blinked enormous doe brown eyes at him, her mouth open in a silent "o" of surprise.
"Banira…?" he said quietly.
After a moment's hesitation, Banira released a shaky breath and hastened across the room to him. She cupped his face briefly, relief and sympathy shining in her searching eyes, before wrapping him up in a careful hug.
Ayato was caught off-guard at first, but returned it as best he could, relaxing into the embrace with a sigh. The Masudas must've talked to her beforehand because she had considerately drawn him in by the shoulders instead of squeezing him around the middle.
"Naoi… I heard about what happened, thank goodness you're okay!" she fussed, releasing him.
"It's good to see you again, Banira," he said quietly, forcing himself to maintain eye contact. "I'm sorry that this is what it took…"
A flash of understanding came over and she shook her head. "Please, dear, think nothing of it."
"After blowing off Kurimu's funeral, here I am inviting you to my mother's." He forced a dry laugh. "I can't imagine what you must think of me."
"Kurimu thought of you as a brother, Naoi, you were family," Banira said with firm gentleness. "All she ever wanted was for you to feel safe. And that's exactly what I told Souma about it."
"Family," Ayato repeated softly to himself. She was family. Sighing, he leaned against a display case of pastries. "We've both lost more than our fair share of that, haven't we, Banira?"
She said nothing, only came up next to him and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"I had a dream once," he muttered to the floor. "My father was the one who died of a terminal illness. My mother and I cared for him, but eventually he passed and she lived on. And I wish that were true, I wish that had happened in this life years ago, because then she would be alive and I wouldn't have left, I would've been here when…"
He slowed, swallowing hard and trying to steady his breath, before looking up at Banira with a wince. Perhaps it was insensitive to wish her daughter's fate upon someone else as a punishment.
She looked back at him only with understanding. "You'll sink into the ground, carrying all of that guilt," she warned, albeit lightheartedly.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but faded after a beat.
"She was trying to leave him," he told her. "To come find me. We'd been talking over the phone, and I guess she was worried about me. He found out about her plans and he… he stopped her. I just can't stop thinking, if… if I hadn't made her worry…"
Letting her hand slip from his shoulder, Banira clasped them in her lap.
"Let me ask you something," she said slowly, calmly. "Do you think it's my fault that Souma crashed his car?"
"What…?" Ayato gaped at her. "Why would it be your fault?"
Banira let a faint smile touch her lips, a faraway look in her eyes. "You know the art on the front of the pet store. The cat was drawn by Kurimu's father, before he passed away." she reminded him. "But the bird and the fish… were drawn by Makishi Hejjiguchi, Souma's mother."
"His mother?" he repeated incredulously, wracking his brains trying to remember what Hejjiguchi had told him about his mom. She'd graduated from Akuma High, same as his dad, but just like his parents' marriage, Hejjiguchi had been born and raised in Tachikawa. He and his dad didn't move back to the latter's hometown until he was fourteen, a year after Makishi had left them. "What was she doing here in Akuma?"
"Kurimu's father recommended her," Banira replied. "She may not have been a student here for very long, but her art certainly left an impression on him. She had chromesthesia, you see – I don't know if Souma ever told you that – and my husband always liked her use of color. So he mentioned her when he was on the job, and after he died, the people in charge of the project apparently reached out to her. She eventually agreed to come do it, but only after Souma was born."
Ayato blinked in comprehension. Hejjiguchi was born in late November, and the bird and fish were added in the winter months. "Did she bring him with? He would've only been a few weeks old…"
Banira shook her head. "Souma realized the same thing you did, I'm afraid. She left him with Soutarou and came here trying to paint through her depression."
"The first time his mother abandoned him," Ayato murmured, more to himself.
"That's why I waited all these years to tell him," she admitted, confirming with a nod. "He's always been bright so I knew he'd connect the dots. But last winter, we got to talking, and he asked me… well, you know I used to say that when I looked at Kurimu, I knew part of her father was still with me. And Souma asked me what I had now that she was gone, so I told him. I told him my husband put his heart and soul into that art mural, and Makishi did too. Therefore, a piece of them would always exist in Akuma with us."
She released a sigh, and bit down on her lip while fiddling with a bracelet on her wrist.
"I'd hoped that he would feel comforted. That he would appreciate Akuma's beautiful reminder of how their lives were bound from the beginning. Or even see it as proof that the ones we love are never truly gone, and if we look hard enough, we can always find them somewhere. In their art, in ourselves, in the symbols of their love." Her thumb pushed absently against the bracelet's bow, and emotion tightened in Ayato's chest like a rope as he recognized what it was made of – one of the red ribbons Kurimu used to wear in her hair. "But… the truth must've done more harm than good, because it wasn't long afterward that he had his accident."
Ayato almost scoffed at the word "accident," but respectfully disguised it by clearing his throat.
"His choices were his own," he told her. "I don't see how that could ever be your fault. You shouldn't blame yourself."
"I'm glad you think that way." She squeezed his hand comfortingly. "It is silly of me to try to point fingers. Especially at myself. Very hard to do, you know." Ayato couldn't help but chuckle as she mimed scoldingly pointing at herself for effect.
"But you know if I hadn't worried her, she never would have left," he said with a wry smile, and his knuckles clenched as he clutched the edge of the display. "She loved him too much."
"Mothers worry, Naoi, it's our job." Her eyes softened with quiet sympathy. "We worry about our children even before they're born. You were the child she thought she could never have."
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. "I was…?"
"Waiting until they were nearly forty to have children was never part of your parents' plan." Banira wandered to one of the fridges, fetched a couple of cans of tea, and offered one to him. "I don't mean to be a gossip, but since Ayame can't tell you herself…" She lowered her head in respect. "At first, as far as the town could see, your father was content just to take over the family business. Your mother was ready to start a family but otherwise she was happy. Involved in the community. She gardened, helped build things, looked after children. But by thirty, your father's parents were getting terribly angry that she hadn't yet had one of her own.
"They were shameless about it. Publicly chiding your parents, embarrassing them, making their 'jokes.' This bakery heard plenty of passive-aggressive 'bun in the oven' quips from your grandparents over the years, I can tell you that much." Banira smirked faintly in reflection, too polite to roll her eyes. "I can't imagine the things they said to your parents in private. They even tried to pressure your father into divorcing Ayame, convinced that she was the problem. I could tell it broke her poor heart to even consider such a thing."
Ayato scowled at the thought, even more relieved he had little to no memory of his paternal grandparents.
"I suppose that explains why the topic of divorce always bothered her so much," he mused. His fingers dug dimples into his tea can. "Even so, it would have been better if he had. It would've been the best thing he ever did for her."
Banira took a tentative sip of her drink, a bittersweet expression flooding her face. "I understand why you'd think such a thing." Her gaze, warm and honeyed, shifted to him. "But then you might never have existed. And she wanted you to exist. As terrible as it may sound, she understood Kimito's increasing stress as the years went by. When she found out she was pregnant, she was the most joyful anyone had ever seen her. Of course, then your grandfather died of his heart attack before he learned your parents were having twin boys, and Kimito visibly struggled with that, but not even his mood could dampen your mother's during that time. After years of heartbreak, she'd finally been given two beautiful sons she already loved with all her heart."
"And then we left her," he said stubbornly. "With him."
"She was proud of you," Banira responded, just as resolute. Emotion pricked at the corners of her eyes. "Losing a child is never easy. You have to have faith that they've gone someplace better. Or that they have a destiny they need to follow. She missed you, Naoi, but she knew that with Yuri you had found your way."
He let her words settle, until gradually his frown deepened.
"What do I have left of her?" he asked, his mind combing through her suitcase that still waited in his parents' bedroom.
Banira awarded him a gentle smile, but chuckled as if the answer was obvious.
"You have her heart," she answered. "Say what you will about Ayame Naoi, but your mother loved tenaciously. Your father took that for granted, but even he was afraid to lose it. And I sensed that same powerful love every time I saw you and Yuri together. Two strong hearts who found their match in each other." She leaned forward with a friendly wink and added, "Now really, dear, think of what might've happened if you had never existed. What would Yuri do without you?"
The playful prod made his heart twinge, but Ayato managed a budding smirk. "Well, for starters, she wouldn't have anyone to bring her back some raspberry mochi cakes."
Banira laughed appreciatively and went to fetch some for him, kindly asking him about Yuri and missing the way his face fell to ambivalent contemplation. He dug out his phone as it buzzed in his pocket, and panicked briefly at Yuri's "DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS" text, but barely registered the photo that came attached. A page from the address book, a name written in his mother's penmanship. Before he could read it, Banira came back with pastries, more pomegranate tea, and an encouraging smile.
If only his heart was as resilient as she thought.
Preview:
"She looks like you."
"This conversation is getting creepy."
"I believed that love made your mother blind."
"Kanade thought I was a cocky rich kid?"
"The woman was a culinary genius."
"We want to know about the shady dealings!"
"You did that for me?"
"I told you I wouldn't come back for anything."
[Chapter 65]: The Funeral (Part I).
