Aventures at Uwajimaya's and Afterward
Chapter 2 An Evening at Home Continues
TOKIO
"Cooking for all of you would be my pleasure. However, if you don't mind, I would appreciate your help," the woman requested.
This would be another opportunity for her to interact with the boys. But more important, it would give their father the chance to interact with them. Considering his work schedule the last few days, and that the children had been farmed out to a relative, she felt that at this point some father son interaction was imperative. She did not want her presence in the house to prevent Hajime from spending all the time he could with his boys. Because of his new job, she knew that he would have less time to spend at home. If she didn't work herself, she would be tempted to volunteer to be nanny for his children in exchange for room and board.
She supposed that she could let the three of them relax while she cooked, but it was more likely that each of them would focus on an activity of their own, rather that interacting with each other. Helping her cook would put them in the position of having to do something together.
Whatever they made for dinner tonight would need to be quick and easy to prepare. All of them were tired and hungry. If there was cooked rice available, she would have made rice omelets; but she hadn't bothered to even look for a rice cooker earlier today, much less make a batch of rice. She wondered if he even had one. Surely Yaso-san had used one, because a rice cooker was the one necessary, indispensible small appliance in every proper Japanese household.
It was common to get a batch ready the night before and set the timer so hot, fresh rice would be ready for breakfast first thing in the morning. The rice cooker then kept its contents warm and ready to eat throughout the entire day, for lunch and dinner, and in case anyone (like a starving boy just home from school) needed a snack. After dinner the leftovers, if there were any, were cleaned out of the appliance (thank goodness for non-stick coatings) and refrigerated, and a new batch was put in the cooker for the next day.
Back in Meiji 1 there were no such household conveniences. She'd needed to make a fresh batch of rice for each meal. Tokio and their boys ate rice back then, but he always preferred soba, which she had dutifully made for him whenever he was present for meals. She figured it would be the same in this century.
Since she hadn't thawed any meat and hated the way it thawed in a microwave (it turned into something related to a rubbery mass in her opinion), she wasn't going to be cooking that tonight. Plus, something lighter would probably be best. It had been a long day for everyone.
Miso soup made with the miso paste he brought home from the store today, along with some of the green onions and enoki mushrooms, would be a good first course, reminiscent of what they ate before each meal in Meiji 1. Scrambled eggs with cheese and vegetables would be the easiest to prepare, but for some reason she had a craving for an omelet tonight. The same ingredients would be used, just assembled in a different way.
The cucumbers she'd seen Tsutomu put away in the refrigerator were lovely. She'd forgotten to put the packets for instant pickling on the shopping list. So tonight she would just have one of her helpers slice them thinly so she could arrange them on the side of the plate with the omelet. Her mind was going forward. Steaks tomorrow. Perhaps sukiyaki the next day, using those chrysanthemum greens, along with more of the mushrooms.
Yes, tomorrow she would make something more substantial. She supposed that she would probably still be here in his home tomorrow, so thinking about what she would make for dinner would be the logical thing to do. The fact that her domestic side was coming through loud and strong was a bit unnerving to her. This wasn't her family, but she had the feeling that she was settling into this places as though it were (or might be in the future).
"Do the three of you like cheese and vegetable omelets? How about miso soup?" Tokio asked them. "That's what I was thinking of making. Oh, of course, I'll be making soba, too."
She figured that it would best to have her helpers get the ingredients ready. Washing and chopping the vegetables, slicing the cheese, and cracking and beating the eggs with milk were all things that could be handled by the boys, as long as she and Hajime lent them a hand. The men could set the table and get the tea ready and the milk poured while she was making the omelets. Maybe she would ask Hajime if he would like to make the soba. He surely knew how to do it in this era, or he wouldn't have a whole shelf devoted to storing the stuff.
SAITOH
"That sounds delicious, Takagi-san," Tsutomu said, his shyness evaporating.
"How did you know I love Miso soup?" Tsuyoshi was impressed.
So was Saitoh.
For dinner they usually ate some chicken or steak and some cooked vegetables or ate out somewhere, depending on how late they were getting home. Homemade, multi-course meals were not at all the norm.
"If you are going to help cook, I expect to see your hands washed." Saitoh said sternly. The boy's mad scramble to wash their hands made him want to laugh. Based on their expressions, this was nearly as much fun as going to the ball pit.
"I'll cook the soba," he said, pleased that he knew how to prepare at least one of the items on the menu. He carefully washed his hands, and then put on a pot of water to boil. Tokio asked him to put an extra pot on to boil for the miso.
While the water heated up, he chopped vegetables into very thin slices while Tokio patiently helped his children crack eggs and grate some cheese.
"Careful, Tsuyoshi!" Tsutomu said, "You got a shell in the eggs."
Tokio smiled rather than chiding the four year old, and scooped out the errant eggshell .Tsuyoshi thanked her and then scooted his chair closer to where she was standing. After a second, Tsutomu moved his chair as well.
Saitoh noticed this and many other things beside as he put in the noodles to boil in one pot and added a scoop of miso paste to the water in the other. His children were happy, relaxed and interacting well with each other. Hell, despite that day he'd had, he was feeling very much at ease, a state that was rare for him.
He very much suspected that the first official house guest in his home was to blame for the positive state of affairs.
TOKIO
Oh...my...What did that old adage say? The quickest way to a man's heart is though his stomach? Obviously, the best way to impress these two boys was through theirs, since they seemed quite pleased with the fact that miso soup was on the menu.
Tokio was very happy that she'd decided to start dinner on a traditional note by serving miso soup. Each of their meals during Meiji 1 had started with the warm, flavorful broth, dotted with bits of green onion, mushroom , tofu, and seaweed. Tonight's soup would be minus a couple of those items, and she hadn't made a fish and seaweed based broth, but she was sure tonight's offering would be tasty enough. It would definitely taste better than reconstituting the instant miso soup that was in the Major's pantry.
She was quite impressed when Hajime offered to make the soba. Her suspicions had been correct. His cupboard wouldn't be stuffed with the stuff, if he didn't know how to cook it. Tokio asked him to boil another pot of water while he was at it. Getting the miso ready would be just as easy as cooking soba.
As she helped the boys prepare the eggs and cheese, her gaze wandered to her former husband. She marveled at how he could cut the vegetables so thinly and evenly. He'd been a master swordsman back in Meiji 1; he was one of the Shinsengumi's best. A kitchen knife wasn't that far removed from a katana, so she shouldn't really be surprised by his skills with the small blade.
She was paying more attention to Hajime than to the task at hand, when Tsutomu announced that there was an egg shell where it didn't belong. She merely smiled at both boys, scooping it out without a word. She would have caught it before it dropped into the bowl, if she hadn't been so distracted by watching their father work.
As she watched Hajime put the noodles in one pan and a scoop of light brown miso paste in the other, the sound of chair legs scooting over the floor, first one chair and then another, captured her attention. She couldn't help but smile inwardly. The action made her think about when the Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi of a different century used to snuggled up next to her when she read to them each evening. She was beginning to feel that she belonged here, and knew intuitively, that it was going to be very hard for her to leave these three when Captain Wantanabe was finished with the security system for her place.
"Thank you for your help boys. Why don't you wash your hands in case you got some raw egg on the them," Tokio told her young helpers. Both climbed down from their respective chairs, and headed to the sink to do what was requested, Tsuyoshi using the stepstool to reach the faucet. Without being asked the boys even dragged the chairs they'd been standing on, when they were cracking the eggs, back to the kitchen table before returning to her side to see what they could do next to help.
Tokio admired Saitoh's handiwork. On the counter was a plate of cucumber slices, a medium sized bowl with slices of red sweet pepper, onion, small cubes of pealed egg plant, and pieces of mushroom. On the end next to the stove, where he was tending the noodles and miso, was a small bowl almost filled with sliced green onions and mushrooms that he'd cut up for the soup. He picked that one up, while she was watching him, glanced over his shoulder at her, as if to say 'bet you didn't know I could do this', and then emptied the contents into the steaming miso broth. As soon as the liquid began to boil, he turned the heat to low. He looked at ease, content with the world. She was glad. He'd been through so much for her.
There was a bottle of prepared soba tsuyu, soba dipping broth, sitting on the counter near the stove. Did he buy that today in anticipation of having soba tonight? That man planned ahead. She also noticed some zaru, soba plates with inset, sieve-like bamboo mats that were used for serving chilled soba. He must intend on serving the noodles cooled. Soba was often eaten cold with the dipping sauce. Tokio was amused and pleased with his initiative. By then the boys had finished washing and had come up beside her.
"Well boys, it looks like your father is almost finished with his part of dinner," Tokio commented quite pleased with the job Saitoh was doing. She would need to cook the omelets. The miso could stay on the stove to keep warm until they were ready to sit down to eat.
"Tsutomu, could you please put these zaru on the kitchen table for your father, and then get 4 bowls for the miso soup and 4 small bowls for the dipping broth, and put them by each person's place, as well?" she asked the boy.
"Your father will pour the soup and the dipping broth into the bowls before we sit to eat," Tokio explained. She hoped that the Major didn't mind too much that she was the one directing traffic in his kitchen.
As Tsutomu scurried to do her bidding, his father had drained the noodles and was waiting by the table for his oldest son to bring the zaru.
"What can I do, Takagi-san?" Tsuyoshi asked, eyes hopeful that she would have something for him to do. This one was such a sweetie. He seemed to be a bouncy ball of amber eyed sunshine.
"Could you please get the butter out of the refrigerator for me, and then put some chopsticks at each place at the table," she asked him. There would be no need for spoons. The Japanese way was to drink the soup from the bowl and then pick out any remaining vegetables that weren't consumed with the broth with chopsticks.
Tokio poked around the cupboards surrounding the stove and located a frying pan that would work for cooking the omelets, but first she'd have to lightly sauté the vegetables for the filling. Tsuyoshi put the butter dish on the counter near the stove so she could reach it, and then went to set the table with chopsticks. After cutting off a chunk from the block of butter and dropping it into the pan which was heating on the burner, she took the vegetable filled bowl and added the contents to the frying pan. While the vegetables cooked, she quickly washed and dried the bowl she'd emptied.
From the corner of her eye, she could see the flurry of activity around the table. Tsutomu had set the zaru down first, and he was in the process of getting the small bowls out of one of the cupboards. The Major was deftly serving soba onto the zaru, and Tsuyoshi was pulling some chopsticks out of a drawer. It was somehow soothing to see her men at work. Her men? Where did that come from, she wondered.
"Takagi-san, do you want me to set out glasses for everyone?" Tsutomu asked her.
"Please do, Tsutomu-kun. Thank you for remembering that we needed those," she replied. She completely forgot they would need those for the adult's water and the children's milk.
She had the fleeting thought that, just maybe, she should get familiar with what was inside these kitchen cabinets. It would make meal preparation easier. In retrospect she was a bit startled by her line of thinking. After all, she was not a permanent part of this household. She was only a temporary guest.
Once the vegetables were lightly cooked, she put them back into the now clean bowl, re-buttered the frying pan and started the first omelet by pouring in some of the egg mix, and tilting the pan so the bottom was covered with a thin layer of egg.
By now both of the boys were finished with their jobs and Hajime was washing the pot used to cook the noodles and filling it back up with water. Coming up behind her, he put it on one of the back burners.
"Just in case you want tea," the Major explained, softly. She almost blushed. He was standing so close to her...in his kitchen...in the presence of his children. Once the back burner was turned on, Saitoh stepped back and went for the bottle of soba dipping broth that was still on the counter. It pleased her that he anticipated that she might want to drink some of that green tea she had him buy today with dinner tonight.
"What do you want us to do next, Takagi-san," Tsuyoshi piped up.
"I need four dinner plates here on the counter near the stove, and then I will need you to put eight slices of cucumber on each plate, Tsuyoshi-kun. While you are doing that, I would like Tsutomu to scoop a small spoonful of miso paste on each plate," the attorney told the boys. She wasn't sure that any of them ate cucumber dipped in miso, but many people did.
Hajime put the bottle that was in his hand back on the counter, and opened a door to one of the upper cabinets. Without a word he retrieved four plates, putting them down on the counter where Tsuyoshi could reach them with the help of the stepstool.
"Wash your hands again before you touch the vegetables," the major instructed. "I'll move the stool for you so you won't get your hands dirty after you wash."
As Tokio continued making the omelets, she could hear a small, whispering voice beside her,
"one...two...three...four...five...six...seven...eight...done...one...two...three..."
As soon as the egg in the pan was set, Tokio spread a substantial portion of the lightly cooked vegetable mix onto the surface of the cooked egg, topping it with a generous sprinkling of grated cheese before rolling the whole thing into a tidy looking log. The omelet was then carefully slipped onto one of the waiting plates. By now the boys had finished their part in preparing the dinner plates. Each one sported a line of cucumber rounds and a little mound of miso paste.
While she was concentrating on the task at hand, she barely heard her former husband speak to the children. The refrigerator door opened, and shortly thereafter she heard the sound of pouring liquid.
The major was back at her side again, reaching for the pan of miso soup, and turning off the burner.
"I assume that we are almost ready to eat," he stated in a matter of fact way. She nodded to him in the affirmative. Two of the plates now held a regular-size omelet; two plates held half an omelet each and there was still a whole, finished omelet in the cooking pan, in case the boys wanted more.
Without having to be asked, her kitchen staff transferred the filled dinner plates to the table. Tokio turned, looking toward the kitchen table. There it sat in all its glory, laden with the fruits of the labor of many hands. There was soba with dipping broth, miso soup, vegetable-cheese omelets, cucumbers with miso paste, milk for the children and water for the adults. Tokio also noticed a tea cup by one of the places, too.
She then bowed, "Thank you for your help. I couldn't have prepared dinner without all three of you."
"It was our pleasure to help you, Takagi-san," her former husband told her before adding, "Shall we all sit."
Tsutomu, with his father's silent prompting, pulled one of the chairs away from the table, "Please sit here, Takagi-san," he told her.
"Thank you," she replied as she sat and pulled her chair closer to the table. She noticed that Saitoh and the boys waited for her to sit before taking their own chairs. The politeness and consideration that he and the boys were showing overwhelmed her.
Once all of them were seated, the Major gave a little nod, and the boys pressed their hands together, Tokio following suit, realizing what was coming next. Bowing their heads slightly, in unison they said, "Itadakimasu", which literally means, 'I humbly receive', the traditional thanks that Japanese give before eating. It is an expression of gratitude to all who helped with the meal, from the food preparers to the farmers who raised the food, to the living organisms that gave their life to sustain human beings.
SAITOH
"Itadakimasu"
While certainly not the most sentimental of men, Saitoh felt at this moment nearly overwhelmed with gratitude. The food, carefully prepared my many hands (all of them clean) looked and smelled delicious. Unlike so many in New Meiji, who would struggle this evening to find somewhere safe and warm, he and his household were comfortable and protected from elements both seasonal and criminal.
Saitoh looked at his boys who were nibbling on cucumber chips and sipping warm, fragrant miso. Free of fear, safe from doubt, they lived only as loved children can, immersed in the moment. His youngest was delighted with the food and even more so with the company. Tsutomu was at ease tonight, the shadows in his too old eyes abating for the first time in a very long time.
But it was for life itself, specifically the life of the woman sitting across from him, that Saitoh was most grateful for this evening. As she once had been, Tokio was the agent that was bringing his family back together - binding them up in invisible, yet powerful cords of tenderness and care. No one was immune to her, least of all himself.
(I nearly lost you….)
He thought recalling the savagery of the attack at the Sunshine Café and the percussive blast of the car bomb.
Not once, but twice had death come for her. Not once, but twice had her life been spared by the narrowest of margins. It was a miracle that she was alive and it would take a miracle to keep her that way. Thankfully, her presence in his life proved to Saitoh that there was much more to the sum of human existence than met the eye. Reunited with his beloved wife of two centuries past, he was determined that this gift that was Takagi Tokio would not be lost to him or to his children.
Saitoh lifted up his bowl of Miso and drank.
"Father?" Tsutomu asked, "Where did you learn to make miso soup?"
Surprised, Saitoh set the bowl down and looked at his son. Normally mealtime was a quiet time, dedicated to eating, not chatting.
"In the army," he said simply, then added, so as not to kill the unexpected but certainly not unwelcome conversation with his child, "I practically lived on Miso and Soba in the military."
"Why? Was the food nasty?" Tsuyoshi asked in between bites of vegetable omelet.
"Terrible," Saitoh said, grimacing at the memory.
Tsuyoshi laughed.
"How long were you in the army?" Tsutomu asked.
"For six years," Saitoh dipped a cucumber in the miso paste.
"Why did you join the army? I thought you wanted to always be a policeman."
"I was drafted, Tsutomu."
"What's drafted?"
"It's when the government says that you have to join the army."
"You don't get a say?" Tsuyoshi looked up at his father.
"No, you don't have a choice. Not unless you want to end up in jail."
"Did you want to go to the army, Father?" Tsutomu asked quietly.
"It didn't matter what I wanted," Saitoh said, honestly enough. "It was my duty to go and so I went."
"Is that where you met Takagi-san?" Tsuyoshi asked as he finished his half of the omelet. "You said she was your friend from a long, long time ago."
Saitoh put down his chopsticks and looked across the table at the woman who he'd been married to in Meiji 1. Amber eyes met grey. In this life, he'd known her for exactly two days. Had it only been that long? Saitoh marveled at the fact. He felt he knew her as nearly well as he knew himself and already couldn't imagine going through life without her by his side.
"No, I met Takagi-san at a place called the Sunshine Café. She was having tea and I was in need of coffee after a long day at work. The rest is history," he explained adroitly, managing to be absolutely honest about both aspects of their relationship.
"Now…why don't you ask Takagi-san where she learned to make such delicious omelets?" Saitoh said slyly.
TOKIO
Here they were, all together gathered around the table, as a family. If only for a short time, she was reunited with them, most of her family from so long ago. Only Tatsuo was missing. It was a bittersweet moment for the prosecutor because she knew that this fleeting moment in time was only an illusion at best. But it was an illusion that she would hold close to her heart.
They looked so content...all three of them, obviously enjoying the results of their labor. She cherished the time she was given to spend with them, regardless of how short it might be.
Tokio knew everything there was to know about her former husband's Meiji 1-self, or at least she thought she did back in the day. They'd been married for over forty years. She knew that in this era, as a person, he had not changed one bit. He still had the same priorities, sense of duty, and values. What was important to him then was just as important to him now.
However, during New Meiji, he'd had experiences that she had not been able to share with him, was no part of, and knew nothing about. That is why she listened so intently to what the Major said about being drafted and why he learned to make miso soup while in the army. No wonder he'd thrown her that look while he was preparing the soup tonight. It had been part of his daily routine for six years.
The attorney's ears perked when little Tsuyoshi, bless his heart, wanted to know if his father met her when he was in the army. Well, she had met him while he was in the Shinsengumi, but it wasn't during this age. She bit her lower lip, knowing that he couldn't very well tell their sons the entire truth of the matter, the part about their first marriage in Meiji 1. That was something the boys would have to discover on their own. It was something they may never discover. Tokio wasn't about to tell them anything, ever. She thought she was crazy when she started having those visions of her past with their father, so there was no way she intended to put that sort of burden on anyone else, especially a young child. If the boys asked, she would confirm, but certainly not until they were much older.
She didn't even know for sure if she would be a part of this family's life in the future. The prosecutor fully intended to maintain a friendship with the Major, and to do her best to have contact with his sons, if he would allow her.
She was beginning to suspect that his attraction to her had much more to it than merely a way to relieve the stress from the last days. That gave her hope. There was nothing that she would like more in this life than to resume her role as wife and mother in this little family.
As her former husband answered his son, he looked directly at her. His amber eyes seeming to know just how her heart was feeling at the moment...swelling with a love...that after spanning two centuries... had never dimmed.
The Major was truthful. They did meet at the Sunshine Café. The rest was history. She smiled warmly at him. He'd been totally truthful with everything. His children were just too young not to take his statement that 'the rest is history' for more than the face value of his words.
"Now…why don't you ask Takagi-san where she learned to make such delicious omelets?" Saitoh said slyly.
She'd heard that tone of voice before, but it had been years ago, and it was always when he was either putting her on the spot, or changing the subject when he no longer wanted to talk about a certain issue. Her grey eyes met his, once again, and she quirked her lips. Changing the subject was he? As always, he made the best decisions. Because as far as their long history together was concerned, the boys did not need to be encouraged to ask any further questions about that, at least not now.
Tsuyoshi turned his head to look at her as he spoke, "Takagi-san, how did you learn to make omelets?"
"From my mother. We ate them a lot when I was a child in Aizu-Wakamatsu. My grandmother raised chickens so we always had a lot of eggs that needed to be used," she replied.
Looking at her, expectantly, Hajime's youngest continued, "Will you please teach me?"
Tokio smiled at the child's polite request, "You already know how to get the eggs ready. There is another way, an easier way, to cook them. I'll be happy to show you."
This evening the attorney cooked the omelets the old fashioned way, in a frying pan on the stove. She thought they tasted better that way. But there were other ways of doing it, that even a four year old could do safely. It required a special pan that was used in the microwave. She had no idea if this household had one; she would either ask the Major or rummage through his kitchen cabinets to find out. If they didn't, she'd buy one just for Tsuyoshi's personal use.
SAITOH
Saitoh was pleased with Tokio's response to Tsuyoshi's request to teach him how to make omelets. It encouraged self-reliance and ensured that the attorney would be spending more time with his children. He was hopeful that meals like this and other activities would eventually help Tokio feel like she was a part of this family.
(She is a part of this family….) He thought fiercely. Hadn't she told him this morning that she no longer doubted that he and she had once been married? He recalled the peace and happiness in her expression as she'd assured him that she no longer had doubts and wondered whether she'd come to the same realization about the children as he had.
Dinner continued in the Saitoh household. Tsutomu brought up the idea that they too should consider the merits of raising chickens. Saitoh had to immediately veto the idea (the thought of him having to care for a bunch of birdbrained animals was beyond the pale) but had brought up that Aizu was a beautiful part of the country and perhaps in the spring, they would have to go and visit there. This was met with much approval from the boys and hopefully from a certain grey eyed litigator. Saitoh would like to go there and see how Aizu faired…hopefully with someone by his side.
Miso was drunk. Omelets, soba and cucumber chips were eaten. The conversation died down to a companionable silence as the hungry children and adults ate their dinner together.
A LITTLE WHILE LATER…
"Here Daddy," Tsuyoshi handed Saitoh his plates. The boy had done well at dinner, eating all of his food.
Saitoh said thank you, rinsed the plates and put them in the dishwasher. He'd insisted on washing the dishes, wanting Tokio to have time to relax after dinner and prepare if she wished some after dinner tea.
Of course Tokio had her own ideas and was helping the boys clear the table so that it would be ready for homework. She was still as stubborn as he remembered her to be, in the very best possible way.
He glanced at Tsotomu who was trying to sweep up the floor. The broom was still a little big for him, but the boy was doing his best to complete his assignment and that was what counted.
"Here are the rest of the dishes," Tokio said as she came up to the sink and handed him the empty plates and bowls. As he took the dishes from her, his wet hands brushed up against hers, the first such contact that he'd had with her all day.
"Thank you," he murmured, letting the contact linger for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. Once again as they touched, memories flowed in his mind. There had been times that he'd washed the dishes in Meiji 1, though it was a much more involved task then than it was now. The times were rare, but he'd done his husbandly duty and helped out, especially if he knew she was tired and weary.
Speaking of tired and weary…..
Saitoh looked down into the face of his house guest, his concern palpable.
She was too pale for his liking, and bruised. Her body had absorbed more of the blow of the explosion than his and she had to be in pain.
"Did you get any rest today?" he asked her, hoping that the answer was yes.
TOKIO
Tokio had to cover her mouth with her hand, pretending to cough, to hide her amusement when Hajime soundly trounced any notions about raising chickens in the back yard. Oh, that brought back a glimpse of the past and a certain bird-headed associate of her former husband's, whom he used to rail about on occasion. That particular person never failed to fuel his exasperation. What was that guy's name? Sakamoto...Sakamaki...Sagawa...Sagara or something like that.
His suggestion that they should visit Aizu in the spring both surprised and pleased her. That meant he fully intended to include her in their future family activities. She couldn't be happier about that. Maybe, while they were there, a visit to her parents wouldn't hurt. She would like them to meet him and his children, but she didn't want to give her parents the wrong idea, either. If she were to introduce Hajime and the boys to them, they might think that there was an impending marriage, which at this point wasn't even on the horizon.
Her mother would be absolutely enchanted with Tsutomu and Tsuyoshi.
When the four of them finished eating, Hajime asked the boys to clear the table. She immediately got up to wrap and store the remaining half omelet in the refrigerator. It would microwave beautifully, and be a good midnight snack or partial breakfast for her former husband, along with the coffee he seemed quite partial to in this era.
She soon returned to the table to help the boys finish clearing the dirty dishes; there were a lot. She'd forgotten just how much dishware it took to serve a family meal for this many people. At least there were dishwashers now, and hot water right from the tap. No traipsing out to the courtyard to pump a bucket full of cold water from the well, these days. Best of all...no keeping the fire going in the stove, and heating up the kitchen on an already unbearably hot, humid Tokyo summer day, just so some washing could be done.
She smiled to herself as she watched the Major take over clean-up duty, which he'd insisted on doing. It was a scene replayed from times in the past, when she'd been particularly exhausted and barely able to drag herself though the day. Usually, those times came when she was heavily pregnant. Of course, he realized how bad she felt, and always helped her, regardless of how much she protested that she was still able to perform her household duties. He'd been her treasure in those days. Her reason for living.
The momentary brush of their hands, when she handed him the last of the dirty dishes, left her with the desire to slip her arms around his neck and kiss him soundly. It was something that she'd have done the moment he came through the door tonight, if they were still married. But it wasn't something that they could do in front of the boys right now. Maybe in the future...depending on whether the future played out as Tokio wished...they could show some chaste affection in front of the children.
Even though the two of them were private people when it came to displaying what they felt for each other, or at least they had been back in Meiji 1, this was a new era. She supposed, that in the present age, showing a small degree of affection in front of one's children was most likely a positive thing, a demonstration of a healthy marriage.
She startled inwardly, realizing that once again her mind was putting her far ahead of the reality of the situation. Tonight gave all appearances that they were a typical, tight knit, small family, having an ordinary...no, all time together was precious...dinner together.
"Did you get any rest today?" he asked her.
"I did," she replied, but she couldn't stifle the yawn that accompanied her admission. She hoped that he hadn't noticed that she'd started to favor her injured knee after she got up from the dinner table.
The attorney knew that the Major had to be exhausted, although the Hajime of old would be loath to admit the fact. She assumed that his present incarnation would be no different. After the night without sleep and the very busy day he had, and she had no idea what sorts of things he might have done after the press conference, it was surprising he was still standing.
"You have to be worn out with the day you had," she continued, not really expecting a reply from her very stubborn former husband. It was mind over matter with the man. He'd probably sleep standing up just to prove the point that he wasn't as tired as she thought, she mused to herself.
SAITOH
Standing close beside her, Saitoh could see that she still needed rest. There were dark shadows beneath her grey eyes and she was seriously favoring one leg over the other. He suspected he looked equally haggard. Hell, he felt like he'd been run over by a vehicle rather than merely in the vicinity of a vehicle blowing up.
"The day isn't over yet," he said quietly, knowing he and she would need to discuss some of the findings from today's investigation. "Not by a long shot."
Saitoh exhaled slowly as the full weight of the day fell on his sore shoulders. Tsutomu had finished sweeping and had started working on this math homework, his little brows furrowed in concentration. Tsuyoshi was getting out his writing assignment with an equal look of concentration. Both boys were unaware (and rightly so) that their lives had been greatly complicated by today's unwanted promotion and the disastrous intercept that had revealed to an already mistrustful city that some police officers were drug users and others murderers.
Longer work hours were in store for the family as was tighter security now that Saitoh was tasked with cleaning up the force. The boys were going to end up with a security detail and might have to change schools. His home would be monitored more closely than it already was. It went without saying that he'd be a hell of a lot more careful getting in his car every night.
Tokio also would have to have security increased, and he had to think very carefully about who would be responsible for her detail. He'd lost a good man the night before, once that wasn't easily replaced. If their relationship continued to develop (and Saitoh had every intention that it would) she'd be in greater danger than she already was – which was saying something.
(Gone are the days that I could hide my family with a mere alias) Saitoh thought ruefully.
He thought about failing Yaso, about how he'd made a mistake somehow and left her vulnerable. When the syndicate members had come, his wife had been unarmed and unable to defend herself and she'd done the only thing she could, leading the bastards away from their children. He swallowed at the memory of finding her, of seeing his failure made manifest.
(I can't go through something like that again….) Yaso's death had nearly undone him. How would he react to losing a child, with seeing Tokio stare up at him with empty dead eyes?
(Stop it…)
He grabbed the memory by its nape and viciously shoved it back into the recesses of his mind before he made a damn fool of himself.
Saitoh reached down and took Tokio by the hand, finding comfort in the hard callouses on her palm and fingers that only came with repeated arms practice. Unlike Yaso, she was a tough woman and had proven herself formidable in a fire fight. History would not repeat itself, he swore to himself, nor would his children suffer for his sake either.
He gave her hand a little squeeze and then reluctantly let it go before the boys noticed their father getting fresh with their one and only house guest. That wouldn't do.
"You should go and sit down," he suggested as he endeavored once again to get the dishes done, so he could help Tsutomu with this math and would stop thinking about trying to come up with a reason to hold her hand again. "That knee of yours is about to give out."
"Takagi-san? Do you want to come and sit by me?" Tsuyoshi offered brightly. "I'm working on writing my name."
"Or you can sit by me, if you want?" Surprisingly Tsutomu chimed in. "I'm working on math problems."
TOKIO
"The day isn't over yet," he said quietly, "Not by a long shot."
All she could do was nod. She was too beat up to do much else.
From his comment she guessed that there were things that he needed to tell her. Things he had learned after the press conference. A chill coursed its way down her back. She knew the danger to the Major and his children would increase without measure because of his new assignment at work. Things were no better for her. She already had a fairly large target painted on her. That was the only reasonable conclusion after the two violent attempts on her life.
As her eyes wandered over to where the boys were settling down with their homework, she felt his hand grasp hers, giving it a little squeeze.
His hand was calloused and firm, but warm and reassuring. His touch was just what she needed right now. Tokio was a little surprised that he would dare such a move in front of the children. He must have known that they were too absorbed in their tasks to notice the brief, but welcome contact.
"You should go and sit down," he suggested. "That knee of yours is about to give out."
"It actually feels like it might," she sighed in reply.
Her former husband had seen through her attempts to hide the hitch in her knee. She should have known that he would. Honestly...she did know that he would. The man had amazing observational skills, always had.
Tokio would ask him about his injured leg later. He didn't seem to favor it quite as much after he returned from changing the dressings. However, she could tell that he was very tired by the drawn look on his face.
"Takagi-san? Do you want to come and sit by me?" Tsuyoshi offered brightly.
"Or you can sit by me, if you want?" Tsutomu chimed in.
The prosecutor smiled widely at the boys. Her attempts to establish some positive rapport with them appeared to be working. She couldn't be happier about that. Regardless of whether her relationship with their father went further than a fast friendship, she truly desired to be a part of these children's lives.
"How about I sit in between?" she suggested. "That way I can be next to both of you."
"Yes!," exclaimed the youngest, a look of satisfaction painted on his small face.
"That's okay with me," Tsutomu added, his reply more reserved than his younger brother's, but he was obviously quite pleased with her answer.
"I'll be there in a minute, then, as soon as I make a cup of tea," she told the two of them. She hoped that drinking a cup of green tea would refresh her, and give her the boost her aching body needed.
She then looked at their father, who was still occupied with after dinner clean-up.
"Do you want a cup, too, Saitoh-san? It won't be brewed, just a tea bag." She was way too tired to look for a teapot.
"Or would you rather have coffee? I'd be happy to get a pot brewing," she offered. At least she knew where the coffee pot and coffee were located.
If they intended to talk after the kids were asleep, she most likely would need a cup of the strong black liquid herself, otherwise, there would be little chance that she could actually stay awake for a full conversation, regardless of how important it would surely be.
"Tea would be fine, Takagi-san." He hoped the day would come when he could just call her Tokio without having to add an honorific.
She'd made a mental note of where Tsuyoshi put the box of green tea bags when he helped shelve the groceries earlier. There was also a box of small vacuum packs of tea leaves, but brewing those would take more time and energy. She was glad that Saitoh had the foresight to put a pot of water on the stove. There was always the microwave, but she was an old-fashioned girl, preferring to pour steamy water over what needed brewing, rather than push a button and wait for the beep.
The Major momentarily stopped dish duty to lend her a hand. While he reached into an upper cupboard to get a couple of cups and a saucer for the spent bags, she retrieved two tea bags from the box in the pantry. Moving as fast as her bum knee allowed, she returned to the counter where he left the cups and plopped a tea bag into each one right before he poured in the steaming water. Working together with him on this mundane little chore, made her feel that she belonged here.
Her grey eyes looked up at him and she smiled. "Thank you for the help. I might have had to use the stepstool to reach those cups," she confessed. Even though she was fairly tall for a Japanese woman...the same as back in the old Meiji era...she still wouldn't have been able to reach that top shelf. The attorney also knew that tonight with the way her knee felt it would have been impossible for her to climb up on that stepstool, but she wasn't about to admit the extent of her injury to him. She was sure that his leg felt far worse than hers.
Each child had taken one end of the kitchen table. Cup of tea in hand, she took the seat on the side, giving plenty of room for Tsutomu's school books and Tsuyoshi's calligraphy supplies. She figured that Hajime could take the seat on the other side of the table across from her. She assumed he would be joining them shortly, as soon as he was finished with the dishes.
Tsutomu's eyes briefly glanced up from the paper he'd been working on, as she settled into the chair between them, taking a sip from her cup. Women in this age were lucky. Chairs were the norm in most homes, not like back in Meiji 1 where everyone was still kneeling on tatami mats.
The kneeling business only became annoying when one was eight or nine months pregnant, and could barely get up from the floor. Late term pregnancy was like having a very heavy weight strapped to your front, throwing off your balance. She had no idea why she was thinking about this, either. Perhaps it was because Tatsuo was missing from this little group in the kitchen.
Tsuyoshi was getting a special pen out of his pencil box. Tokio took a closer look to see that there were several others inside, each with a different sized tip. The attorney was mildly surprised that kanji practice was being done in a more traditional way, rather than by using an electronic pad. There was something calming about placing an ink-filled writing tool directly onto a piece of rice paper and forming a line.
Back in Meiji 1 the children had used goat or horse hair brushes and blocks of ink that needed to be dipped in water and rubbed on an ink stone before they could commence with their writing practice. When she was a girl in Aizu, calligraphy still involved a brush and a dish of ink, but the ink came as a liquid in a bottle, not a solid block that need water to dissolve.
The ink she'd used as a child was washable, making it easier for her mother to get it out of her clothes, and off other surfaces. She would have loved having some of that ink back in Meiji 1, she mused, as she remembered the accidently ink-smeared hakamas and gis that she'd often had to clean.
She also noticed a piece of card stock lying on the table with the name Saitoh Tsuyoshi written in kanji, stroke order included, obviously generated by computer software. The prosecutor was pleased to see that the teacher required the class to write their names in kanji, rather than use hiragana, even at this young age. Compared to the compound kanji for Saitoh, 斎藤, which had a total of 27 strokes, the kanji for Tsuyoshi's first name was relatively easy, with 12 fewer lines than his surname.
The boy had already torn a piece of paper from his notebook and was concentrating on getting it clamped onto the special board used to hold the practice sheets firmly so they wouldn't move around on the table as the student was writing. Again, the prosecutor had a flash from the past, this time of small fingers struggling to get the weight bar, that was used to hold the sheet in place in those days, over the top edge of the paper.
It was Tsutomu back in those days who insisted on getting the bar even and not crooked along the paper's top edge. Tokio was amazed at how memories of her past with these two boys seemed to well up in her mind. It was similar to what happened the first day she encountered their father in this era at the Sunshine Café.
Tsuyoshi's practice paper, which also looked like a computer print-out, was divided into four boxes, each containing faint lines in the form of the kanji for the boy's first name, 剛史, with little numbers printed near each line, giving the student the proper order in which to make the strokes of the pen.
The large renditions of the kanji on the sheet of paper would make it easier for his small fingers to guide the pen over the lines that formed the shapes he need to make for his name.
"Tsuyoshi-kun, are you practicing both your first and last name, tonight?"
"No, teacher said we only needed to write our first names. She said we had to do two papers."
Tsuyoshi then sat up very straight and positioned the pen perpendicular to the paper, just as he'd done with a brush in Meiji 1. Slowly, he carefully traced each line in order, his hand movements a bit shaky. When he finished the figure in the first box, he placed his pen on the table, giving her an expectant look.
She leaned over, taking a good look at his painstaking work.
"You did well with that one, Tsuyoshi-kun." She was glad to see that this style of pen seemed to release just the right amount of ink, not leaving any unwanted drips on the paper. She did notice that the ends of a couple of the pen strokes needed to have a little up curve to them, but he had drawn them as straight lines.
"Do you see here at the end of these two lines," she pointed out. He nodded in response.
"See this little hook on the end of the lines you are tracing? That is what you need to add rather than stopping where you did," she instructed. "Would you like me to guide your hand when you do the next one, so I can show you what I mean?"
She thought little Tsuyoshi's smile was as bright as the sun as he bobbed his head, signaling his 'yes'.
Tokio got up from her seat and walked behind him. He picked up the pen; she gently placed her hand on his and began to guide it to make the pen strokes on the practice paper, carefully tracing the lines printed on the sheet.
"First stroke down. Lift the pen from the paper. Go to where line two starts. Put pen down. Move it to the right. Don't take it off the paper yet. Make a sharp right angle and move the pen down all in one pen stroke. Then at the end make a little hook before taking the pen off the paper." She spoke with a soft voice, almost a whisper, as she smoothly guided his hand to trace the faint kanji printed on the practice sheet.
And so it went until they completed the second figure on the paper, Tokio pointing out to him both places where the line ended in a little hook. The prosecutor removed her hand from his, instantly feeling a sense of loss when she let go.
"There, why don't you go ahead and trace the two that are left on your own," she told him, "Be sure to make the little hook at the end of both of those lines, just like I showed you."
Tsuyoshi's face took on a serious look, and the tip of his tongue darted out briefly to moisten his lips as he started working on the rest of his paper. Tokio left him to continue on his own. She would keep an eye on his progress and remind him if he forgot to put a hook at the end of either of those lines. She thought he was doing quite well for his age.
Instead of returning to her seat, she made her way to the other end of the table to peer over Tsutomu's shoulder. "Ah...I see that you are working hard on some story problems," she noted.
She did not have fond memories of helping either of her boys with the often confusing math story problems they'd had to do in the past. It wasn't the math calculations that challenged her, it was the way the problems were sometimes worded that gave her a headache. Sometimes, due to confusing language, it was barely possible to figure out what the point was, making it difficult to complete the assignment. Hajime with his very analytical mind was always much quicker than she was at figuring out this type of math homework...at least he was in the past. She was sure it would be the same in this era.
SAITOH
The dishes didn't take long to complete. Saitoh turned the dishwasher on, ensured that the sink was washed and rinsed and then took his cup of tea over to the table where he quietly sat down across from Tokio with boys to each side of him. He was glad she was sitting down and resting a little.
Taking a sip of the hot tea (not as good as ten hour old coffee sludge, but it would do) Saitoh watched and listened as Tokio helped Tsuyoshi work on his first name. She was a natural at this and had he not known she was a hardened attorney with a formidable conviction record, he'd of sworn that she worked with small children for a profession.
"There, why don't you go ahead and trace the two that are left on your own," Tokio said gently to his son, "Be sure to make the little hook at the end of both of those lines, just like I showed you."
"Okay."
Saitoh watched carefully as his youngest tried to follow her instructions, taking great care to make the hook at the end of the lines.
"Ease up on your grip," he instructed when the ink threatened to puddle at the end of a character, "there…that's better."
"Writing names is hard," Tsuyoshi said when he was done.
"Wait till you start working on your last name," Saitoh warned, remembering from his own childhood how intricate the Kanji was.
Once Tsuyoshi was working on his next copy, Saitoh turned his attention to word problems. Wonderful. Inwardly sighing at the stupidity of the current curriculum set, he worked with Tokio and Tsutomu to try and make sense of a decidedly non-sensible story problem.
"If one tiger climbs up a tree that is twenty feet tall, and another tiger climbs a tree that is fifteen feet tall, and the third tiger climbs a tree that is seventeen feet tall, what is the average airspeed velocity of a swallow flying between the trees, holding a coconut by its husk?"
Tokio and Saitoh looked at each other, then down at the hapless child forced to wade through such moronic wordsmithing. Tokio then re-asked the question in a way that was easier to understand and Saitoh gave an example of how to calculate airspeed velocity, once he'd determined if the swallow in question was African or European. After a couple of tries, Tsutomu got the answer right, much to Tokio's delight and Saitoh's approval.
The evening went on. Green tea was drunk. Kanji were made (and smeared a little by accident) Word problems were hashed out (and hashed over) and little by little the Saitoh boys homework was completed.
When all was said and done, and the homework was put away Saitoh announced it was bedtime.
"Does Takagi-san have to go to bed too?" Tsuyoshi asked, curious.
"No, because she's a grown up," Tsutomu answered. "They don't have to go to
bed when we do."
"Takagi-san will go to bed when she's good and ready," Saitoh said sternly, amazed that he was even having this discussion with his offspring. "Now, go get ready for your baths."
Obediently, the boys scampered to do as he asked, headed in a black haired beeline for the bathroom.
"I'd better go help them before they flood the house," Saitoh said, smirking a little over the boys having the audacity to actually argue when their houseguest was going to go to bed. His smile held as he looked over at Tokio.
"Thank you for helping the boys with their homework, and for helping prepare dinner," he said sincerely, still amazed at how good she'd been with the children. It was almost as if she remembered doing this with them during their previous life together. (Does she remember?) He wanted to ask her, but was leery of pushing what very well could be a sensitive issue with the woman. (Perhaps we'll speak of it later….) he decided as he stood up from the table.
It wasn't enough just to thank her though, as if she was only a houseguest and nothing more. She meant the world to him and would, if things went according to plan, become equally important to two small children. Blunt as a bear and sorely out of practice with any sort of niceties, he had to settle with gently clasping her on the shoulder (not the injured one) and telling her that he was very glad that she was staying with him and so were the boys before he ambled down the hallway and into the bathroom, following the sound of children's laughter.
TOKIO
When Saitoh arrived at the table to help with homework, Tokio returned to her seat and took another sip from her now cooling green tea, looking over to check on Tsuyoshi's progress. She listened as the Major spoke to his youngest, mentioning how difficult it was to write the kanji for their last name.
Oh, she remembered quite well when she went from being a Takagi to a Saitoh, and how she'd wished that he'd taken her family name instead so she didn't have to write the kanji for his. The kanji for Takagi, 高木, was so easy to write in comparison.
Eventually, the Major focused his attention to 'math word problem duty', and read the offending item out loud. Her eyes darted toward his; he was looking in her direction with a look of disbelief after he finished reading the thing. She did her best to add a few suggestions, but she was happy to defer to his analysis.
She gave Tsutomu a sympathetic look, wishing she could do more to relieve the mental pain that the boy had to be feeling at the moment. This story problem was a monstrosity. There was no other way to describe it.
Her former husband had always been a miracle worker in her eyes. That hadn't changed over the centuries, either, given his astute analysis of this obnoxious math problem, which was eventually solved correctly by Tsutomu, much to the adults' satisfaction, but not before more than the usual furrowing of brows by everyone involved.
As the homework session concluded, the Major announced it was time for bed. The attorney thanked the boys for all their hard work, telling them that she thought they'd accomplished the tasks they were assigned for homework very well.
Both gave her an appreciative look in response, as they put their homework into their backpacks.
She was finishing the rest of her tea and almost swallowed it the wrong way in surprise when she heard the boys' conversation.
"Does Takagi-san have to go to bed, too?" Tsuyoshi asked, looking not quite sure about what was normal behavior for a houseguest, never having one stay at their house before.
"No, because she's a grown up," Tsutomu answered, knowingly. "They don't have to go to bed when we do."
There was nothing she could say to that. She was quite relieved that the youngest Saitoh son hadn't asked about her sleeping arrangements. If he had, Hajime surely would have told him that the guest room had that name for a reason. Still, she felt her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. Tokio had no clue why they decided, on their own, to sport that blush.
She was amused that Hajime defended her right to retire when she saw fit before ordering the two children to the bathtub. Well, that hadn't changed, either. It was always bath immediately before bed at their home in the Bunkyo Ward in Meiji 1. Ever obedient, the two quickly padded down to their destination.
"I'd better go help them before they flood the house," Saitoh said, smirking a little. She knew he must be amused over the discussion his youngsters just had over her bedtime.
"I think that is a very good idea. Neither one of us are in any shape to clean up a tsunami that originated in the bathtub tonight," especially with my sore knee and your torn stitches, she added to herself. She didn't know for sure that his stitches were torn, but it was the most reasonable explanation for all of the blood that soaked through his pant-leg earlier.
His smile held as he looked over at her, "Thank you for helping the boys with their homework, and for helping prepare dinner."
She bowed to the man, her face reflecting the smile he sent her, "It was my pleasure. Thank you for allowing me to ..." she almost said 'be a part of your family tonight', but that sounded like she presumed too much...so she settled for, "be a help to you. I had a lot of fun. Your boys are delightful."
She really wanted to add that they were as delightful as they'd been almost 200 yrs ago, but again, she caught her tongue.
Her heart swelled with joy when he gently clasped her good shoulder, telling her that he was very glad that she was staying with him and so were the boys. Maybe there was hope for her. Maybe things would progress farther than just a fast friendship between them.
Tokio knew that tonight she was reunited with her family, save one member, Tatsuo. She might never be able to acknowledge this fact to anyone, but as long as she knew that her boys were with their father, safe and loved, that was all that mattered. She would be content.
The prosecutor realized that she would be considered mentally ill, if she ever revealed this to anyone. A week ago, she would have agreed to a voluntary commitment, if such notions passed through her head. Things were different now. She was different now. Things had changed somehow after acknowledging and believing in the past that she had shared with this wonderful man.
"I am glad to be here as well," she replied, her voice almost hitching with emotion.
If it wasn't for her former husband's protection, she'd be on a cold slab in the morgue at the moment, waiting for her brother to claim her remains.
Earlier, he'd indicated to her that they would be talking tonight. Both of them would need some strong coffee. As soon as the Major disappeared down the hall, she set to work on that task, quite grateful that this morning she'd paid careful attention to how much water and coffee grounds were in the coffee maker before she'd turned it on.
While the coffee was brewing, she padded into the living room and sat on the couch, stretching out her aching knee, waiting for him to return. As she sat on the couch, her lips curved into a soft smile. She could hear the sound of sloshing water and muffled voices, one deeper than the others. The attorney could only guess what was going on. She had a good idea. It had to be very similar to bath times all those years ago.
SAITOH
"Father?"
Tsutomu looked up, his hair soapy with tear-free shampoo. "How long is Takagi-san going to stay with us?"
"For a few days," Saitoh replied, busy rinsing Tsuyoshi's hair.
"Can she stay for longer?" His youngest sputtered, spitting out some water that he'd accidentally swallowed.
"Would you like her to?" Tsutomu asked his brother.
"She's really nice," for the four year old, the question was easily answered.
"What do you think about Takagi-san?" Saitoh asked as he filled the rinsing cup and gently poured it over Tsutomu's head.
"She seems like a very kind person and she makes good omelets," the boy said, closing his eyes tight as water poured over him. "I want to make sure that she stays safe."
"So do I." Saitoh handed his oldest a washcloth and reminded him to wash behind his ears. "That's why she's going to say with us until her house is properly protected."
"What happens if her house is never safe?" Tsuyoshi asked seriously, "Will she have to stay here forever and ever?"
"Father will make sure that she's safe, won't you?" Tsutomu's expression sobered up. "You won't let her go home unless you're sure she'll be okay, right?" There was an undercurrent of fear bubbling up in his voice.
"I won't allow Takagi-san to come to any harm," Saitoh said firmly. He tousled Tsutomu's hair and added, "so quit fussing, both of you. It's unbecoming of boys your age."
"Do you like Takagi-san?"
Saitoh accidentally dropped the rinsing cup into the tub. Thankfully it was plastic. Tsutomu picked it up and looked at his father.
"Do you?"
After a careful second's consideration, Saitoh nodded. "Yes, I do. She's a good woman and is working hard to try and make our city safer for everyone." He looked down at his son who had lost his mother and undoubtedly still missed her. "Does that bother you?"
"No," Tsutomu said quietly, handing him the rinsing cup. "It doesn't."
Saitoh took the cup, pleased with the response. "Good. Now, let's get our baths done and get ready for bed."
A FEW MINUTES LATER….
Dressed in their warm pajamas, teeth brushed and hair combed, the boys helped their father put the towels up to dry.
"Daddy, can we say goodnight to Takagi-san?"
Saitoh was drying up some wet spots on the bathroom floor. He could smell the welcome scent of coffee wafting down the hall and knew that Tokio had somehow read his mind. "Yes, you can…."
And Tsuyoshi was off and out of the bathroom before he could finish, with Tsutomu close behind his brother.
"Takagi-san!" The four year old called as he ran down the hall. "We're coming to say good-night to you!"
Saitoh stood up in the bathroom, the knees of his sweatpants soaked through and followed after them, curious to see how the good night ritual fared.
TOKIO
Footsteps approaching, two sets, light and quick.
"Takagi-san!" a young voice called from the hallway. "We're coming to say good-night to you!"
Memories of the past flooded her; moisture welled in her eyes. She quickly brushed her fingers over her lids to remove any trace. It wouldn't do for them to see her in tears. They wouldn't understand that any tears she shed tonight would be ones of joy, not sadness.
How many times had little arms hugged her around her waist all those years ago, wishing her a good night. As the boys grew older, their good nights became more reserved and less spontaneous, as was the custom in their culture.
Another set of footsteps followed, these heavier, but not as smooth or even, sounding as though one leg might even be dragging a bit. She was reminded of the close call in the parking garage, hardly believing that it had happened a mere 24 hours ago. After the lovely evening spent with his family, the trauma the two of them suffered almost seemed like a dream, except for the lingering pain in her shoulder and knee.
She glanced over her shoulder in time to see two scampering bodies with bright faces, Tsuyoshi's first, rounding the corner from the hallway to the living room, coming to a stop right in front of where she was perched on the couch. She bobbed her head at them in greeting.
"How was your bath?" she asked.
"Daddy said he likes you," the youngest offered with a wide grin, only to be poked in his side by his older brother, who was now scowling.
"Stop it Tsutomu," Tsuyoshi let out, as he swatted his brother's hand away. "Daddy said it."
The seven year old pressed his lips together, leaned over toward his younger sibling and said in a loud whisper, "But that isn't your business. It's Father's."
Tsuyoshi glared at Tsutomu, giving him a dubious look before responding, "But you said it didn't bother you."
Tokio covered her mouth with her hand and coughed slightly to cover up her amusement. Time to divert everyone's attention away from the current train of thought. Although the information pleased her, she wasn't exactly sure what the Major would think about his boys spilling the beans about what he thought of her.
"Tsuyoshi-kun, I like the color of your pajamas," she began. "Did you pick them out yourself?"
"Nope. Daddy got them for us. Blue is my favorite color," the four-year-old announced proudly.
She smiled. The pajamas the boys wore were Shinsengumi blue in color. Was that choice a response to a subconscious nudging?
"Oh, I like the color blue, too, especially that particular shade," she revealed.
"You do?" Tsuyoshi said, eyes widening, a hint of surprise in his voice, as though he could hardly believe that the two of them had something in common.
Tsutomu whispered again to his brother. This time to tell him to hurry up and say good-night, causing the four year-old to shrug, but obey. He must have noticed that the Major was standing at the entrance to the living room. Tokio was faced away from her former husband, but she knew he was there. She was quite surprised, but pleased, that she could feel his presence.
Both boys now stood at attention in front of her.
Tsuyoshi spoke first, bowing respectfully. "Night Takagi-san. Thanks for help'in me write my name. It was fun. Can you do it again?" he asked, hopefully.
"Good-night to you, too, Tsuyoshi-kun, I would love to help you write your name again", she said with sincerity.
Then it was the seven year old's turn. His countenance was more serious than his brother's.
"Good-night Takagi-san, please stay safe," he said with a bow. "You are a good cook. Thank you for making dinner for us."
"Thank you and you are welcome, Tsutomu-kun. It was my pleasure, but I couldn't have done it without the help of you and your brother," the attorney confided.
"Good-night to you, too," she added. His comment about wanting her to stay safe surprised her. Saitoh may have told his sons that she was here for her safety, but she didn't really expect either boy to say anything about it.
By now the Major had rounded the corner and was standing near his sons. Tokio noticed his soggy-kneed sweatpants, and was tempted to ask him if he'd had fun, but she thought better of it, not wanting to tease him in front of his boys. She just gave a pointed look at his knees before looking him in the face and giving him a mischievous little grin.