Chapter Eighteen: The Journey of a Water Heater

"Bring me the two-inch screws," Sesshoumaru asked, plucking the power drill from his toolbelt. In the other hand, he effortlessly balanced the new water heater against the wall brackets.

"On it," Souta said, hopping off the bathtub cover. He picked up the hardware baggy and began to sort through its contents, palming the screws as he found them. "There were eight, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I have them all."

Sesshoumaru lowered the drill, so that the boy could fit the first screwhead to the magnetic bit. Then with a whine and a thump-thump-thump, he drilled the screw into place. A rhythm they repeated as they installed the next few screws.

Sesshoumaru released the water heater and it hung securely from the brackets. Souta raised his hand to give him the rest of the screws but he held out the drill's handle in reply.

"Screw in the last four," he commanded, his expression more pleasant than cool.

"All right!" Souta agreed, his eyes wide with excitement.

After handing off the drill, Sesshoumaru examined the mounting brackets on the broken balance boiler, an old-style water heater at the head of the bathtub. Dressed in matching navy-blue coveralls with customized name patches, the two worked: one dismantling the old and the other installing the new.

When Souta was done, he peeked over Sesshoumaru's shoulder as he unscrewed the mounting bolts by hand, a task all men and some socket wrenches failed at. He felt pride swelling in his chest and he started to grin.

"According to the plumbing basic guide," Sesshoumaru said, loosening the last bolt, "We need to close the gas line before we disconnect it here."

"Do you want me to go close it?" Souta asked.

He nodded and then without looking, he pointed toward a special wrench. "Ask Takano-san to show you where it is and use that wrench on the valve. Remember if the valve is open, it's with the pipe. If the valve is closed, it's against the pipe."

"Okay."

Grabbing the wrench on his way out, Souta trotted down the hallway past several apartment doors until he reached the last one. Knocking on it, he called out, "Takano-san?"

A few moments passed, and as he raised his hand to knock again, he heard the lock turn. The door opened and a kindly woman with gray-streaked hair smiled at him.

"Souta-chan," Ms. Takano greeted, "Did you need something?" Despite her cheerfulness, there was something about her that distressed him. A raw pain in the pink sclera of her eyes that made him look away.

"We need to turn off the gas. Do you know where the valve is?" he asked sheepishly.

"It should be by the meter. Let's go look for it together, okay?"

He nodded.

As she turned to put on her shoes, she revealed the tiny apartment behind her. Little more than a single room, it was a tidy space with few furnishings and one of those blocky televisions he'd seen in old movies and tv shows. On the floor by the entryway, there were packed boxes marked 'Kisuke'.

"Ready?" she asked.

He nodded again.

Together, they went outside and started following the perimeter of the building as they looked for the meter.

"Souta-chan?"

"Yes?"

"Can you tell me about yourself?" she asked and then hurriedly added, "It's all right if you don't want to talk. I was just hoping to hear a little bit about you."

"Um…" he began. They turned the corner and headed down the backside of the complex. "I'm nine years old. I live at a shrine with my mom, grandpa, sister, and… brother. We have a cat named Buyo, and he sounds like a cow when he meows."

She chuckled warmly.

"At school, I love to play baseball with my friends. And there's this girl that I like but I'm still figuring out how to talk to her. She's really nice, so…" He looked up at her. Her face was turned away but not so far that he missed the tear slipping down her cheek.

"I think those are the meters up ahead," she said quietly, her fingers sweeping across her face.

Two rows of box-shaped objects hung against the wall, each one suspended by a pair of pipes fed by a larger line. When they approached the array of meters, Souta scratched his head.

Ms. Takano hummed. "Let's look at each one and see if they have any markings telling them apart."

"Look!" he exclaimed, pointing to the faded scrawl of an apartment number defacing one of them. "We just have to find the one that's not a number."

Together, they scanned each one until they found the meter labelled 'Bath'.

With the wrench in hand, Souta recited the phrase, "With the pipe is open. Against the pipe is closed." Then he set the wrench over the knob of the valve and turned it perpendicular with the pipe. He said the phrase a few more times until he was sure he'd done it right and smiled up at her. "We did it!"

She smiled back at him. "You did it. Good job. You're quite the handyman."

His smile spread into a grin.

They headed back toward the bathroom and Souta regaled her with a few stories as they walked.

"But it's not ramen if there aren't any noodles, right?" he explained with a giggle. "Who gets a bowl of just pork cutlets?"

She laughed, the lines creasing at her eyes with genuine joy.

"Takano-san?" a voice called out, interrupting them. A man at the corner of the hallway thumbed back toward the front of the building. "The police want to talk to you."

She nodded. "I'll be right there." Then she turned to Souta.

He bowed his head. "Thank you for your help, Takano-san."

"Of course," she said cheerfully, but the joy was gone. And as he started to leave, she spoke up, "Souta-chan, would you do me a favor?"

He nodded.

"Would you let me hug you? I know it's an unusual request. You won't hurt my feelings if you say no."

He paused, unsure, and his gaze fell to the floor.

"Don't worry about it," she reassured, "Forget I asked, dear."

"No," he said, and he held out his arms, "It's okay."

Arms wrapped around him, pulling him close. She was warm and soft, but she didn't feel like his mama. Didn't smell like her either. A pang of guilt tightened his chest. As if somehow, he was betraying his mama by hugging another mother. But as he was about to pull away, he felt Ms. Takano shudder and heard a quiet sob as she rested her cheek on his head. And so, he stayed until she was the one who was ready to let go.

"Thank you, Souta-chan," she said, wiping the tears away. "You're a good son. Your mother must be very proud of you. And I hope… I hope to see you again soon." Then she left, walking down the hallway toward the front of the building.

Absorbed by conflicting feelings of guilt and pride, Souta wandered back into the bathroom. Inside, Sesshoumaru finished connecting the electrical and water hookups to the new water heater. The digital readout blinked, ready to go.

In a daze, Souta sat down on the bathtub cover.

"Did you close the gas line?" Sesshoumaru asked, skimming through the owner's manual for the heater.

Silence.

"Did you close the gas line?" he repeated, no longer reading.

Silence.

"Souta," he said, loud enough to jar the boy from his pensiveness.

"What?" he blurted out.

"Did you close the gas line?"

"Yes," he said, and then more quietly, "I'm sorry."

Sesshoumaru nodded as he cut the line to the boiler. Next, he ran the line along the wall up to the new heater. "Come hold the line while I install the conduit straps to anchor it in place."

Silence.

Letting the gas line fall, he approached the boy and touched his shoulder. "Souta."

Startled, he looked up. "I'm sorry."

"We're almost finished. Come hold the line."

Souta scooted off the bathtub cover and held the line against the wall as instructed while the daiyoukai screwed in the straps.

"What's troubling you?" Sesshoumaru asked as he stood up to inspect the excess length of gas line and where to best cut it.

"I'm okay."

"Humans are inclined to be hopelessly distracted when they're preoccupied by their troubles. And in my experience, your kind must talk it out to be cured. Or at least, to be functional."

He sighed.

"Speak."

"Is it normal to feel both good and guilty when you do the right thing?" Souta asked.

"How so?"

"Takano-san. Her son died and she misses him. So, to make her feel better, I let her pretend that I was him. But I'm not him. And she's not my mama. I think it made her feel better, and I'm proud that I could help her like that, but I feel bad because I betrayed my mother by pretending to be someone else's son."

"Do you believe that your mother would be upset about what you did?"

"I don't think so," he said, considering it. "No, she wouldn't be."

"Do you feel guilty about being alive when Takano-san's son isn't?"

"No, I don't."

Sesshoumaru cut the line and fit the adapter to the end. "I have found that when you help others, it becomes impossible to ignore the fact that what they may lack is something that you may possess. It's unfortunate that we all cannot possess all that we need, but through helping, we may be able to share our possessions so that we all get what we need, if only briefly. You both exchanged the love of a mother and son so that Takano-san could possess what she needed in the moment. It was worthy of pride. But the love of your own mother isn't fragile, and you shouldn't feel guilty for having it. And…"

Souta looked at him, waiting for him to finish.

He chuckled under his breath and shook his head. "…And we all have our tragedies. The things that we need but do not possess. That's why we have each other. So that we may share and be whole."

He nodded. "I think I understand."

"Good," Sesshoumaru replied as he finished securing the line to the new water heater. "Go open the gas valve so that we can test the water and finish our task."

"Okay!"

OOOOOOOOOO

With the old balance boiler set upon his shoulder, Sesshoumaru ducked down to clear the doorway as he left the apartment building and entered the amber light of sunset. Souta followed behind him, his backpack filled with as many tools as he could comfortably carry. Across the gravel yard toward the street, three people conversed. Souta recognized Ms. Takano but the other two, a man and a woman, were strangers.

"We're doing what we can, Takano-san," the man in the wrinkled suit reassured. "We just wanted to follow-up and let you know where we're at."

"Thank you, detectives," Ms. Takano said with a polite bow. "I appreciate that you met with me in person. It's more than I expected."

"Of course," the professional looking woman said, returning the bow.

Ms. Takano turned away from them to head toward the apartments. "Sesshoumaru-kun and Souta-chan," she greeted affectionately when she spotted them. "Are you finished?"

"Yes," Sesshoumaru replied, "The new water heater is installed and working. It's a more modern design than this one, but I'm certain that you and the other tenants will master it quickly. And to that point, I've left the owner's manual should you require it."

"Thank you again," she said with a deeper bow, "We haven't had hot water in the bathroom since the summer. You have no idea how much this means to us. Thank you."

He nodded his bow, accepting her gratitude.

"And thank you, Souta-chan. For everything today."

Souta smiled, his cheeks flushing. "We'll see you again soon, Takano-san."

They passed her as she went inside. Ahead, the woman turned away to walk toward the street, but the man remained behind. With his eyes fixed on Sesshoumaru, his mouth dropped open. The woman turned back again and grabbed him by his sleeve.

"Nakagawa, you're staring," she growled as she tugged at him. "It's embarrassing. Who raised you to stare at strangers?"

"But, it's not possible," he muttered as Sesshoumaru passed by. "A man can't just carry a balance boiler like that. They're heavy. Like really heavy."

"She's right. It's not polite to stare," Souta scolded as he followed a few steps behind.

"My partner is being reprimanded by a child," she said, rubbing her forehead. "This is my life now."

"But—" Nakagawa began.

"Just stop."

Leaving the two onlookers behind, Sesshoumaru and Souta approached the covered trash disposal area by the street. There they discovered a disheveled man picking through the bins. Nearby, a rickety two-wheeled cart sat tipped forward, its bed filled with assorted rubbish, small appliances, and electronics.

Souta fell in close behind Sesshoumaru and peeked out nervously.

Hearing the crunch of gravel, the man retreated from the bin as he spun towards them. His face dirty and weathered, he shrank back when he saw Sesshoumaru, but his eyes lit up when he spotted the boiler on his shoulder.

"What are you going to do with that?" he asked, pointing to it.

"Dispose of it."

"Give it to me," he insisted. "If you're throwing it away, then give it to me."

Sesshoumaru glanced at the cart. "No."

Emboldened, Souta leaned out further to get a better look at the man. He looked like a patchwork of old worn out things. As if nothing he owned had been his until it had been thrown away by another. Feelings of pity and disgust stirred in his stomach.

The man's face fell at the rejection, but then his anger boiled to the surface. "Why? You're throwing it away. Do you think I'm not good enough to have it?! That I don't deserve it?!"

"No," Sesshoumaru said, his tone cool.

"So why are you judging me?!" he spat.

"I'm not," he replied. "Your cart is overburdened with salvage. It cannot support the boiler as well. So, I will not give it to you unconditionally. If you want it, you must let me carry it to where you reside."

The man sputtered, his anger transforming into confusion.

"You do not have room for it on your cart and if I leave it here, another may claim it before you return. If you let me accompany you to where you reside, then you won't have to give up anything."

He paused, mulling the offer over.

Unhurried, Sesshoumaru waited.

"All right."

Still eyeing them warily, the man shambled over to his cart and picked up the tow bar at the front end until it was upright again. Then he began to pull. The cart squeaked forward, and they headed down the street.

Closer to Sesshoumaru than his own shadow, Souta followed behind him anxiously.

"There's no reason to fear," the daiyoukai reassured. "You're in no danger."

"Why are we taking the boiler to his house?"

"Because he deserves it."

"Why does he deserve it?" he asked skeptically.

His pace unchanging, Sesshoumaru turned slightly to the side to gaze back at him. The look lasted long enough to make Souta fidget. Then he faced forward again. "I will explain my reasoning and if you do not support it, then I will refuse this man the boiler. Will that be satisfactory?"

Souta thought on it, and then nodded.

"I will preface my argument with the fact that I'm a youkai, and as one, there isn't much about humans that distinguishes them from each other. While it's true that every human has a unique set of characteristics that identifies them and there are humans, like you, who are important to me, as a whole, you're as indistinguishable as a school of fish. It's no different than how I imagine humans have perceived youkai in the past."

He nodded.

"On the surface, it would appear to be a boon. As I have read through your history to better understand this new world, nuances of class, race, and culture have been revealed to me. But the differences they create remain theoretical. In practice, humanity is still a singular entity. You're all the same to me. And so, the prejudices and inequities that you apply to each other have no effect on my judgments of you.

"But if I'm blind to your differences, then I'm also blind to the experiences and traumas that these prejudices and inequities create. I need guidance if I'm to raise the people up who have been preyed upon by others. If I'm to be their guardian."

"But that's why you have the list from Tora-san," Souta argued.

"True," he conceded. "Tora-san provided an extensive list of people in need and has been generous enough to contact them regarding what we can provide. This man we're helping now is unlikely to be on the list, but does that mean he doesn't deserve our help?"

"Maybe. The money you found wasn't his, or at least, it doesn't seem like it could have been. Takano-san lost her son over it, so we know she deserves it."

"She does, but the fate of that money has never been about who it belonged to before me. When there is no way to return it to the rightful owners then it becomes less a matter about who we give it to and more about how we give it." He waved his free hand toward the neighborhood. "There's no person here who isn't suffering. No person who has needs that don't require help. The list is only a place to start."

Souta sighed, his mind awash with the memory of a mother who needed a hug. "He just doesn't seem like he appreciates it, I guess."

"Ah," Sesshoumaru said, raising an eyebrow. "Answer this question for me: Does doing the right thing need to feel good to you?"

"No, I mean… I don't know."

"Even if this man doesn't appreciate our efforts to the degree that's satisfying to us, that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve our help. Doing what's right can make us feel good, but even with the absence of that feeling, we're still required to do it."

He rubbed his arms. "You're right."

"Will you permit me to give him the boiler?"

Souta's gaze rose to the man's back. Hunched but strong, he pulled the cart with a steadiness that came with long years of hard labor. And he had so little to show for all that work.

"Yes, he deserves it," he said. "And more." With his answer, he felt a hand touch the top of his head in a gentle pat.

"Good," Sesshoumaru said, and then took his hand away.

Souta smiled softly in reply, the praise bittersweet.

Steering the cart wide, the man headed down an alleyway. The waning sunlight threw it in deep shadow, but at the end, Souta could make out the shapes of makeshift tents and debris fashioned into furniture. Bundled in layers of clothes, two others appeared in the chaos, climbing to their feet. A woman and a teenage boy, they approached the man and began to pour through his haul, sorting the contents.

"You can set the boiler down there," the man told Sesshoumaru, pointing to an empty spot along the wall.

And with ease, he did just that.

"Thank you," the man said in a voice that seemed unaccustomed to the phrase and he followed it with a polite bow.

Sesshoumaru returned the bow with a nod. And with a hand on Souta's shoulder, he guided him back out of the alleyway and they strolled down the street toward the closest train station. The streetlights winked on as they walked.

"You're not disappointed in me, are you?" Souta asked, biting his lip.

"No. We're all learning. And for as much as I teach you, you teach me."

He rubbed at his eyes, tears spilling, and the hand on his shoulder drew him in closer.