The reception area was cold and largely empty so early in the morning on a Friday.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" asked the middle-aged guard manning the front desk, placing the fresh cup of steaming hot coffee he had been holding down in front of him. His tone gave the impression that he was not looking forward to spending most of his day behind this desk.
"Good morning, officer," greeted the young woman with long dark hair. She had a kind voice and she spoke politely. "We're here for a scheduled visit."
The guard briefly glanced up at her and nodded, quickly shifting his attention to the computer monitor in front of him. "Name and identification, please."
"Iori Miyamura," she answered as she put her ID card down and slid it forward for the guard to inspect.
The loud clacking of typing on a keyboard, accompanied by the clicking of a computer mouse, carried easily across the quiet room.
"You're here to visit your husband, Naozumi Miyamura, is that correct?"
"Yes, officer."
"Hmm… It says here there should be two visitors today."
Iori smiled and looked down at the young boy standing beside her holding her hand. "I'm here with my son, Izumi."
The guard blinked twice before he stood up just enough to peek over his desk, having not seen the boy given how small he was, and briefly caught sight of the dark-haired little boy before sitting back down on his chair heavily.
Izumi tightened his grip around his mother's delicate fingers while staring at his feet the entire time. She squeezed his hand reassuringly before returning her attention to the officer.
"What's in the box, ma'am?" asked the guard, motioning towards the small baby blue cardboard box that she held by the handle with her other hand.
"It's a cake," she replied, her smile widening a fraction. "For my son's birthday today."
"Is that so?" The guard paused, thinking, and then stood back up, leaning over his desk to get a better look at the boy who was very clearly aware of and trying to avoid his gaze. "Happy birthday, kid."
"Ikkun," said the young woman gently, giving the boy's hand another gentle squeeze, "What do you say to the nice officer?"
Izumi lowered his head slightly. "Th-Thank you, sir," he stammered so softly that he might not have been heard were it not for the relative silence of the reception area.
"He's a little shy around strangers," his mother explained.
The officer gave her an understanding smile and then sat back down. After some more typing and clicking, he spoke again.
"You'll have to put the box through the scanner once you enter the visitor's wing. And you won't be able to light any candles or anything like that, by the way."
"I understand."
"Okay. Well, everything seems to be in order, ma'am. Please take a seat and wait a moment. Another officer will come to collect you shortly."
"Thank you."
They did not wait long before another correctional officer, younger and thinner than the one at the reception desk, but no less fond of mornings judging by his demeanor, emerged from a side door and called for them to follow him.
After passing through several empty hallways, steel security doors, and a security checkpoint leading to the visitation area, and receiving a few more birthday wishes for the embarrassed young boy on the way, the two were ushered into a tiny room that was bare save for a couple of chairs in front of a metal desk.
That desk was jutting out of the wall opposite the door and situated below a thick plexiglass window that looked into an identical tiny room on the other side. A round stainless-steel speaker was built into the glass a few inches above the desk, allowing people on either side to communicate with each other easily while remaining physically separated.
The other room was empty for only a moment before there was a loud buzzing sound and a door opened on the other side.
A tall and slender man who looked to be no older than Iori walked in, the door shutting and locking behind him with another loud buzzing sound. He had an attractive, if a little effeminate, face with short, spikey black hair and deep blue eyes. That pretty face broke into a wide smile upon catching sight of his visitors.
"Well, if it isn't the two most important people in my life." His voice sounded strange coming through the speaker, but despite that they would have recognized it right away even if they had not already caught sight of him to begin with.
"Papa!" Izumi said excitedly as he hopped up onto one of the stools and pressed his hands up against the glass. He had not seen his father in weeks and was recently beginning to fear that he might not ever see him again.
Both of his parents laughed as they settled into their own chairs, with Iori placing the box on the desk and her husband taking note of it. Before they could say anything, however, the young boy suddenly began to speak at a rapid pace.
"Papa, why haven't you come home yet? I miss you. What are you doing here? Did something bad happen? Mama won't tell me. When are you coming home? I've missed you so much! Mama has been so sad without you too, and sometimes she cries when she doesn't think I notice and—"
"Hold on, kiddo. Hold on," interrupted his father, his voice tinged with both amusement and sadness as he motioned for the boy to calm down. "Slow down and take a breath for a minute, will you? You're talking a little too fast for an old-timer like me to keep up with."
"Old-timer? Ehh?" Izumi looked at him with a puzzled expression. His father was far from being an old-timer, at least in Izumi's opinion. He did not look like any of the old, wrinkled people he saw being referred to as such.
His father looked really young, and so did his mother, and there was no way anyone would consider either of them to be old-timers. Right?
His father winked at him, causing more confusion that effectively silenced the boy for a moment as he pondered this thought, realizing that he had no idea exactly how old his parents actually were. At what age did people become old-timers?
Having successfully distracted his son for at least a minute or two, Naozumi shifted his attention to his wife.
"Iori-chan…" He sounded tired, and closer inspection of his face revealed that he looked even more exhausted than he sounded.
"Nao-kun," she managed to say through a mixture of emotions that suddenly washed over her. She clasped her hands together tightly to hold herself together, fingers whitening.
"I've missed you," he said with a sad smile, "You look well."
"I look terrible and you know it," she sniffed, blinking away some wetness from her blue eyes, beneath which were some hints of dark shadows from more than a few sleepless nights of her own the past few weeks. Thankfully, her makeup helped cover them up, for the most part.
"Never," he replied quickly and with a shake of his head. "You could never look terrible to me, Iori-chan. In my eyes, you are always beautiful."
She smiled and held his gaze. "You always did know how to compliment a girl, Nao-kun."
"Papa's right. Mama is always beautiful," declared Izumi with a confident nod, as if he were repeating an irrefutable fact of nature.
The adults glanced at the boy and then shared a look before they laughed again, the slight tension in the air momentarily relieved.
"Thank you, Ikkun," Iori said as she reached out to rub her son's hair, messing it up a little and earning a big smile from the boy.
"He's going to be a heartthrob, I just know it," said Naozumi with a fond smile, leaning forward on the desk with his arms bent and his hand pressed up against his cheek as he stared at his son. He gave the boy a thumbs up when the little guy looked his way, earning himself a big beaming smile.
"Just like you were?" Iori asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Were? You mean I'm not one anymore?" the man pouted, sounding almost hurt.
"You have me now, so you don't need to be one," his wife deadpanned.
"Ah, well… when you put it that way…" Naozumi leaned back in his chair and scratched the back of his head as he let out a nervous laugh.
"What's a heartthrob?" Izumi asked, cocking his head to the side a little.
His mother reached out and patted him on the head, this time opting not to mess with his hair. "Something you'll find out about when you're older, Ikkun."
"Oh, okay…" Izumi shrugged, but then his gaze snapped back to his father. "Wait, papa, how old are you?"
"Wh-What? Why are you asking me that, Izumi? It's rude to ask such things, you know." Naozumi crossed his arms, looking away momentarily as he was caught off-guard. He began to wonder if he was starting to look older than he thought.
"But you said you were an old-timer, and I don't think you're that old, papa. I'm five years old and so I'm really young, and I know Yasu-sensei at school is fifty-three and he's always talking about how he's too old for things. Some people call him an old-timer too. But you don't look as old as him… So, how old are you?"
"Nevermind that! It was just a figure of speech, really." Naozumi cleared his throat and gestured towards the box on the desk. "What did you two bring with you, Izumi?"
"A figure of speech?" Izumi repeated uncertainly, but then he shook his head and, deciding that was unimportant for now, he immediately gushed about the delicious cake that his mother made. And it was all for him! When asked how he knew the cake was delicious if he had yet to taste it, the boy was quick to point out that all of mama's cakes were delicious, and so this one should be no different.
Both adults briefly shared a fond look after that.
"Because of the rules, we're not allowed to light candles in here, unfortunately," said Iori as she carefully opened up the box, revealing a perfect multi-layered chocolate and vanilla cake. 'Happy Birthday Ikkun!' was scrawled with frosting across the top. "But we can pretend that they're lit. Right, Izumi?"
"Yep!" The boy nodded enthusiastically.
There were five small wax candles in a little packet taped to the underside of the lid of the box, which Iori quickly tore open. Placing the candles onto the small cake, she pushed it closer to her son.
"Okay, Ikkun. Think of your birthday wish, and we'll sing you happy birthday. When we're finished, you can blow on the candles."
When he nodded, his parents began to sing, and their duet rendition of the classic birthday song was surprisingly pleasant to the ear. Even with his father's voice coming through the speaker slightly computerized.
Once they finished, Izumi stared at the candles. "I wish—"
"Wait!" Naozumi blurted out suddenly, eyes wide as he held up a hand to catch the boy's attention. "You're not supposed to say your wishes out loud, kiddo. Otherwise, they won't come true."
"Oh, right!" Izumi's head bobbed up and down in understanding, his expression serious. "I won't forget next time. Sorry."
"It's okay," said his mother, "Go ahead and try again. Think of your wish, hold it in your mind, and don't let it go until you've blown on the candles."
Closing his eyes and keeping silent for a moment, Izumi thought of his wish. Really, there was only one wish he could think of at that moment. Only one that really mattered. His eyes opened a few heartbeats later and, with a determined look, he leaned forward and blew on the candles as if they were lit. He imagined them going out, and somewhere, somehow, his wish was being evaluated by the universe. Hopefully, it would be approved.
"Happy birthday, Izumi!"
"Happy birthday, Ikkun!"
Izumi beamed as the cake, already finely sliced into squares, was divvied up onto small plates that his mother had brought along in her handbag. Only two plates and two slices though, one for him and his mother.
"Do you want some, papa?" asked Izumi as he quickly glanced around, looking for some way to give his father a slice. Finding none, he frowned and looked towards his mother for help.
"I'm sure we can ask the nice officers to give papa a slice or two once we're done here," she assured him.
"Oh, okay," said the boy in a small voice, clearly disappointed.
"Don't worry about me, kiddo," Naozumi added with a big grin. "Just make sure to leave me a few slices. Deal?"
"Deal!" Izumi grinned back and took a big bite with one of the plastic forks they were allowed to bring. His parents talked about other things that he did not really pay much attention to while he focused his attention on eating the absolutely delicious slice of birthday cake in front of him, humming to himself all the while and swinging his legs back and forth as they dangled off the edge of his seat.
When their time was up and they exchanged several tearful goodbyes, Naozumi pressed his hand on the glass and called for his son to do the same. The boy could have sworn he felt his father's hand on his despite the glass barrier between them.
"Hey, kiddo," Naozumi said with a big smile, their eyes locking. "I hope you know that I love you so much. So very much. Whatever happens, promise to always take care of your mom, okay?"
Not understanding why that needed to be said, Izumi easily nodded, matching his father's smile. "I promise! Love you, papa! Come home soon, please papa?"
"As soon as I get the chance," his father assured him with a grin.
Unfortunately, this would turn out to be the last time Izumi Miyamura saw his father alive.