Author's Note: In this character, we focuses more on Usaida's thoughts and what happened. I hope I did the characters justice. Do leave an opinion or two, if you have one!

FIRST

She's still so small.

That has been Usaida's first impression when he finally manages to calm Midori long enough to have her fallen asleep, sprawled like how he remembers while they were in the nursery, as he pats her back to keep her that way.

Across from him, Yukari looks dumbfounded, but whole-heartedly depressed. Usaida's half-afraid to lift his gaze partially due to the fact her eyes were so — so red — and the rest of her had looked so pale. What if he looked up now and she'd hate him for that? Do girls like when guys see them this way? Should he go? He wasn't asked to.

The pink-haired man sighs, but mainly inwardly (in fear for his life). Even during the worser days back when Usaida's had to take care of the beautiful woman five feet from him while she was pregnant with Midori was — well, it wasn't easy — but it wasn't this hard. In fact, now that he's got some time to think about it: he can't really remember how he's survived all those time dealing with a woman who was more often than not prone to mood swings and odd cravings and, of course, pregnant. He was like, what, twenty one? Twenty two? He's young. Inexperienced. How hadn't he lost his mind over suddenly being thrusted into a role of a "husband" back then?

Really. The things he remembers and the things he doesn't.

It would be pretty great if I'd known what to do, he thinks rather solemnly, retreating his hands and touching the bangs of his hair that's befallen across his forehead. The suit feels stuffy to wear, even without the coat, and Usaida thinks longingly for a simple t-shirt he's packed in his bag.

A heavy sniffle drags his attention back to reality and a pang of guilt rises within his consciousness. Here's a family who's lost a member, and I complaint about stuffiness. He wonders momentarily where he got his state of aloofness. Was it his unresponsive dad? Or his absent mother?

Usaida, who's been leaning against the wall for a while, slowly sneaks a glance at the weeping mother, brushing his hair back with finality and hooks the strands behind his ears. Or at least, only his left side. His right fringe are straight and loose. Maybe he should've made more effort into appearing better. He wasn't that close to Yutaka, but he's met the man a couple of times, seeing that he was partly responsible for Yukari when she was pregnant, and afterwards for Midori when he was working at the nursery. Usaida doesn't spend too many times judging people and categorising them critically into stereotype personalities and traits, but he can tell that Yutaka was a kind man, who was passionate with what he's doing and the family he had for himself. He was thankful too, rather than envious, of Usaida's effort into taking care of Yukari and Midori when he wasn't there — often gifting Usaida with tacky souvenirs he'd bought while being oversea.

And — he'd been a husband to Yukari and a father to Midori.

Usaida feels terrible. He should've dressed up more, make an effort. Yutaka would've smiled that shy smile, he can imagine, patting him awkwardly on his shoulders and claiming that he's just glad Usaid could came. But - Usaida still could've done more.

"She didn't cry once."

What? The pink-haired man looks up, having realised that he hadn't at all imagine the soft voice that's floated over. Yukari's speaking. Usaida's eyes fleet instinctively to Midori to see if she's woken up somehow, but thankfully she's still soundly asleep, her cheeks planting flat against the futon. She must've been exhausted. Stupid, of course she was. She just lost her dad.!

The sudden crying as a greeting he got still sort of shocked him, even 'till now.

Usaida tugs on his tie.

"Ever since ... since that phone call when we—" Yukari seems hesitant, voice cracking at every turn, and Usaida's half tempted to try and stop her effort to speak. Whatever she has to say, it can wait, can't it? Surely she'd wanna wind down. Spend some time with her daughter. Usaida suddenly feels... more than just mere intruding. He feels out of place. "She didn't cry once. I thought—I didn't know if she even understood. She just... stands there. And. And stare and watch me. And I didn't know what to say, what to do—" Yukari begins crying more and Usaida feels at a lost.

What was he supposed to say?

He's gonna sound like a jerk for saying this, but — he wishes Yutaka wouldn't have gotten himself killed. He would know what to do now, how to comfort his own wife.

Suddenly, the quiet sobbing lessens, and Usaida notices Yukari's trying her best to gather her composure (—so she still has more to say?—), hand clasped against her mouth before she continues, "—but you came. You came back, Usaida, and she just—"

"You realise she's been hurting too." Usaida says blankly, stating the obvious, and immediately knows he's said the rudest of things the moment the meaning truly sinks. Ah. What an idiot am I. "Sorry. I mean—"

"It's true!" Yukari holds up a hand, nodding furiously whilst trying to pretend like she doesn't want to wail and scream aloud. "I didn't—I didn't know what to do. I just...assumed she didn't know, didn't underst-stand. But she... she was suffering alone. I was ... I failed. The m-moment ... the moment my husband's—" sound of a woman trying to stop a terrible sob, "—the moment he's gone, it's like I didn't know what t-to do with her. I was careless. I'm a horrible mother."

"Stop that."

Yukari looks up, eyes wide and glittering — and Usaida almost wants to smile. (He doesn't.) Could it be that she doesn't age? "Of course you're not a horrible mother. You were just in shock."

"...how can you be so sure?"

Usaida stares at her for a while, pondering on the correct answer to that question. How is he sure? Well, for one, he doesn't say things he doesn't mean. It's not really in his nature. For teasing purposes, sure. Maybe. He's a huge teaser — count on him. But on this? "Because I know you." He responds, finally, dragging one knee up and pressing the lower part of his face against it. He keeps his eyes on Yukari fully, knowing that even a waver to his pose would mean that she could doubt his words. Usaida realises he may be lazy, but he's confident that he's — reliable.

The chairman's son wouldn't have came to him if he wasn't.

"I was with you before you had Midori, during and after. You're a good mother, Yukari."

"But I didn't—I neglected her—"

Usaida shakes his head quickly, puts down his leg and stares once more at Midori. "You were in shock," he repeats, and feels a headache throbbing behind his eyeballs. Usaida tries not to be so obviously biased, but his heart gives away to imagine how Midori must've felt. If she'd truly cry for the very first time in response to her father's death when she saw him... then, how long had she truly repressed her emotions? That mustn't be very healthy for children. "Your husband passed away. Of course you were. You just didn't know what to do."

Yukari sniffles, head's bowed down and Usaida feels — useless. "Everybody made mistake. The... the important thing is, you learnt from it. Midori'll be fine, now. She's just scared. Maybe she didn't cry because she thought it was going to worry you. She's just taking precautions, however unnecessary it may be. She's... a smart child, always has been."

Usaida could still remember the incident when he thought Midori was hiding the keys to his apartment away. Maybe it was just in his head, or perhaps they were that incredibly in tune, but it came to Usaida later how amazing it was that Midori was able to comprehend the misunderstanding and got angry at him — despite only an infant.

"...She misses you."

He looks up.

Yukari is also staring at her daughter, but with a calmer sort of expression than before. Usaida feels it again, that leap of guilt conquering his chest, and coughs lowly. "She... had a hard time after you were gone."

The only man in the room closes his eyes, could still hear the ringing sound of Midori wailing when he took his leave.

"And she got so happy whenever you called."

"Me too." Usaida supplies, finally, and notices how if Kamitani were here, he'd point out how Usaida's probably looking uncharacteristically bashful. It always puts him a little off guard, to know that a child is that attached to him. Him. He hadn't anything in particular at all in his life, and here is a child who clung to him without hesitant when she saw him — like he was special, or whatever. Like... he meant something. Ah, man. Did I sound like a pedophile? "I miss her, too. I'm sorry... that I had to leave."

"O-oh! Oh no! You... you have to take care of your sick grandmother, right? It... it can't be helped."

No, it can't, Usaida thinks, thinking of the hours he spent talking to his parents about the arrangement once it was confirmed that grandmother was suffering worser than ever from Alzheimer's and Usaida's been appointed to take care of the old woman. But it still didn't make the whole ordeal any less upsetting. No, not upsetting. Heartbreaking.

"How... how is she, by the way? Your—" sniffles, "—grandmother."

Usaida shrugs. "She... she's fine, I guess. I mean, there's never really a cure, so... it's expected. But it's fine."

"It must be difficult, for you to leave her so suddenly."

"Nah," the former babysitter shakes his head without hesitance, although he's realised now he's been staring at the floor for some time. It isn't like Usaida's ashamed to talk about his sick grandmother, but it's... not easy. Alzheimer's is a weird disease. Weird, and also dangerous. "I have to come. Yutaka... isn't a stranger. All of you aren't. So, I... I have to come. I have to pay my respect. I didn't mind." Usaida finally lifts his chin up at this, and smiles — kindly, genuinely. "Don't worry about it."

"Yes..." Yukari seems startled, and looks down, her fingers daintily messes with the hem of her black dress. "I... I'm glad you did. It seems... Midori needed you."

"I was just here." He tries convincing, "You two have to take care of each other now. It's hard, but..."

"...I know."

"Yeah." Usaida manages half-heartedly, feeling as though the word funeral finally sinks down upon his body. Here is a woman who just lost her husband, and a child who lost her father. It seems impossible how somebody could ever get over that, but they have to. Somehow. Right? "My condolences, by the way. Your husband was a good man."

Yukari smiles weakly, and Usaida can't help thinking how she forced she looks. "You said that already."

"Did I?" Ah, yes. Right before Midori came and clinging right onto him. Guess he's a man of repetitive thoughts. "Yes, well. It's true."

"Yutaka was fond of you."

"Hn. I'm glad." Usaida manages as sincerely as he could will himself to sound, one hand coming up to scratch on his ears. "I thought he was going to beat me up when he learned I was the first man who held your firstborn child and was often misunderstood as your husband." And Usaida could've understood why — any sane (legal and actual) husband would be offended. Thank god Yukari explained before Usaida could splutter himself through a weak excuse.

"I told him all about you while he was away. Rather than angry, he was glad. But he told you that, didn't he?"

Usaida merely nods, and is adamant at repeating: "He's a good man."

Silence lapses, and for a while the world seems to still on its axis. Before a soft knock clutters against the door and it slides sideways to reveal an aged woman. Yukari's mother. Usaida immediately tends to Midori, who suddenly shifts, while Yukari's mother begins explaining how most of the people have left. He can feel the old woman's stare burns through his head, and suddenly feels even more useless. I couldn't blame her, Usaida reprimands himself. After all, he must've seem suspicious. Not only the old woman's granddaughter was attached to a pink-haired stranger for no reason, but he seemed to be the only one Yukari would give the attention to for more than five minutes.

"Ah." Usaida makes a firm sound, clicking his tongue. "I should be leaving, too."

Yukari, somehow eyes filling with tears some more (or was it just the bad lighting?), whips her head, looking shocked. Usaida stands up, and swings the tote bag he's been carrying on his shoulder. "...Where would you go?"

"Um. A hotel? Maybe. I'll find a way." Maybe he can drop over at the chairman's large house. He knew Ryuuchi would be around, at least. It's the weekends. Even with college, the guy still goes home to make sure Kotarou wouldn't be alone. What a romantic brother-complex situation.

"Maybe you can stay here!" It's said with such hurry that Usaida finds himself not only shocked by how quickly his attention turns from daydreaming to her, but by the volume. Thankfully, Midori continues sleeping, as though nothing has happened.

"...what?"

"What?" Repeats Yukari's worn mother, obviously having not expecting this as well.

"Stay here. I..." The single mother now bows her head down, and Usaida suddenly feels awkward standing and looking down at another woman. This feels weird. Please don't have the woman bowing down or something. "Midori needs you. She'll... be shocked if she wakes up and you ended up gone."

He glances fearfully towards Midori's grandmother who looks perplexed and offended all at the same time, as her nervously attempts: "I'm... planning to stay for the next three days. I can come by tomorrow—"

"No!"

Well, that's that. The petite teacher shakes her head, determined, and matches his argument. "Please. I'll — we have a guest room. You can... stay there. Just... for Midori. She—"

"—needs me." And you, too. Usaida stares, and Yukari stares back, her eyes filling with silent pleas.

He crouches down, levelling their gaze and sighs. "Okay."

Midori doesn't once wake up, cuddling close to the stuffed bunny and snoring lightly. Usaida wonders what she's dreaming of.

End Note: Thank you for reading and see you in the next chapter :)