Chapter 4: Kaiwa - Conversations
"Minori, are you angry?" Yuusuke asked, stacking blocks inside a crate, trying to see how many he could fit in one level.
"Angry?" she asked, half-turning from where she was wiping a cloth across the windowsill.
"About Ichijou-san."
Minori clapped her hands together, regardless of the dust rag she held, her eyes widening in excitement. "You told him, Onii-chan?"
"Mm, not in so many words," Yuusuke confessed, rubbing at the back of his head with one hand as it occurred to him that maybe he should have been more explicit. He didn't think Ichijou had mistaken his intention, but...
"Onii-chan!" Minori immediately chided.
"But it's not that easy," Yuusuke protested.
"That's because you never dated," she scolded, turning back to her cleaning.
"But I never found anyone I was interested in, and besides, I don't think anyone was ever interested in me," he replied, slotting the last few blocks into the holes he'd left for them.
"You say that, but I remember how much chocolate you used to get on Valentine's Day," Minori retorted, turning to wipe off the standing piano's keys and then the keyboard cover.
"So? I remember how much you got on White Day," Yuusuke replied, hefting the crate and taking it over to the storage cupboard. He grinned at his sister. "You didn't date everyone who gave you chocolate, did you?"
"You're missing the point, Onii-chan," Minori replied, with a tone in her voice that teasingly implied she thought he was being particularly obtuse. "You didn't date anyone. But now that you've finally found someone, I'm not going to be angry, regardless of who that person is. Especially since it's Ichijou-san." She finished wiping off the top of the piano and folded her dusting cloth over to expose a clean side while Yuusuke looked around for anything else to put away. Spying a few books that had been left out, he went after them as though they might sprout legs and run off. "Besides," she continued, "it's not like it's unexpected."
"It's not?" Yuusuke asked, shuffling the books into order.
"Your letters were always full of him," Minori informed him. "'Tell Ichijou-san I'm fine,' 'I saw a bird today that reminded me a little of Ichijou-san, I don't know why,' 'Ichijou-san should try running up the side of a Mayan pyramid for his morning jog--I think it would wind even him,'" she ruthlessly quoted from memory.
"Oh, I did write all that, didn't I?" Yuusuke asked.
"You did," Minori confirmed with a nod. She tucked her cleaning cloth into her apron pocket, turning and smiling at him. "So if he makes you happy, Onii-chan, I'm glad."
He shelved the books with a thump and straightened, standing. "Thank you, Minori. If so, we just need to find you a boyfriend now, right?"
"I can find one for myself, but thanks," she replied. Yuusuke grinned. "So what was Ichijou-san's answer?"
"I don't know yet," Yuusuke confessed. That took a little bit of the gold out of his day, but he kept smiling at his sister anyway. "After all, you can never know another person's heart fully, right?"
"Onii-chan..." Minori looked worried now.
"Well, it'll be all right," Yuusuke assured her. "No matter what happens, it'll be all right." He gave her a thumbs up. She hesitated, then returned the gesture. "After all, if he says no, then it just wasn't meant to be, right?" And that thought hurt, but he smiled at her despite the discomfort. But if Ichijou really didn't like him that way--though he was 90 percent sure the detective did--it was one of those things that Yuusuke couldn't change, not even with a smile and the strongest determination in the world. And if it was so, he would have to accept it, that his friend wouldn't ever be anything more, and keep the pain to himself.
After all, Yuusuke was good at keeping smiling through pain until it went away. It was his number one skill.
"Hello, Mother," Ichijou said, brushing a kiss against her cheek before bending down to unlace his shoes and step out of them, neatly arranging them in the genkan.
"Hello, Kaoru-san," she replied, hanging his overcoat on the coat rack as he stepped up into the house. "How has work been?"
"There's one case that's--" he started, then stopped. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't bore you with that."
"Your work's never boring," she disagreed, leading him into the family room where, as expected, two fresh cups of tea sat waiting for them, steaming.
"Not to me, it isn't," he agreed, waiting until she sat before taking the seat opposite her. "Kameyama said to say hello. I think he's hoping for another batch of your cookies," he confided. "Actually, I think the entire department is."
As he'd expected, she smiled and dimpled just a little bit. Strange how sometimes he could catch a glimpse of the girl she must have been thirty years before, when his father had married her. "I might have to see about baking some more, then," she replied.
Ichijou smiled. "So how has the hospital been?" he asked. She brightened a little--like him, she truly loved her work--and began talking while he listened. That topic kept them for a while, until dinner was ready and he helped her carry it to the table, insisting on serving her though she kept trying to serve him instead. It was a old game they played, and a familiar, comforting ritual.
"Do you like it?" she asked, gesturing at the trout on his plate. "It's a new recipe I got from Akiko-san at work. I'm not sure about it..."
Ichijou took another bite and considered the flavor. "I like it," he decided. "It reminds me of Mexican food a little."
"Mexican food?" she asked teasingly.
"A friend of mine recently came back from a trip there and insisted on making me dinner in their style," Ichijou explained. "It was good. I was surprised."
"Maybe you could ask your friend for their recipe and I could try making it sometime," his mother replied.
"Maybe." Ichijou took a breath and let it out. "Mother, were you ever sorry that you married Father... that you married a policeman?"
She blinked, lowering her chopsticks. "No," she said. "Why do you ask?"
"Not even when he died?" Ichijou pressed.
"No. Is something wrong, Kaoru-san?"
He looked down at the tabletop, trying to order his thoughts. "There's... someone I think I've come to care about," he admitted, and even that much seemed like he was saying far too much. "But I don't know if it would be fair to that person to say anything," he continued, looking up. "I carry a gun because I need it. Being a police detective isn't a safe line of work. I don't want that person to always be waiting for the call that says I'm not coming back."
His mother's lips tightened into a line briefly and she set down her chopsticks. "In the emergency room today we lost a man about your age. He was a husband and the father of three little girls. He was hit by a truck on his way home from work. He was a grocer, Kaoru-san."
"There's a difference between an accidental death and being someone who deliberately places themselves in the line of danger," Ichijou argued.
"Tell that to his wife," his mother replied implacably.
He sighed. "I know you're right. I just don't want to place someone in that position. Someone else," he amended, looking up at her.
"I never regretted marrying your father for a day," his mother told him. "Not even the day he died. I'm thankful for the fifteen years I did have with Tomio-san, and no matter how much it hurt to lose him, I wouldn't trade that for anything."
Ichijou sighed again and placed his right hand flat against the table. He traced the wood grain pattern with his fingertips. Godai's bracelet was still there, hidden beneath his shirt sleeve. "I just don't think it would be fair to put him in that position."
His mother was quiet for a minute, then asked softly, "What kind of person is he, Kaoru-san?"
Ichijou's eyes flew wide as he looked up at his mother, realizing the mistake he'd made. "Mother, I--"
"It's all right," she said quietly.
He couldn't believe that. "I'm sorry," he apologized, looking back down at the table.
"It's all right, Kaoru-san," she said again. "To be honest, I've had suspicions for a while now." He looked back up at her, surprised. She was smiling at him. "After so many years of you not accepting Valentine's Day chocolates I began to wonder," she confessed. "And after a certain point a mother stops wanting what's normal for her child and just starts wanting him to be happy."
"I'm not... unhappy," he protested.
"Perhaps not," she agreed, "but you don't have anyone that makes you smile either. Does he make you smile, Kaoru-san?"
He thought about Godai, with his own smiles and his thumbs-ups and his indomitable force of personality, and nearly had to smile just at the thought. "Yes," he answered quietly.