For Mother's Day

Originally posted 5/17/22 last year on my AO3 account. I wanted to post this story on Mother's Day last year, but had to postpone it due to an increase of work at work and missed the day.

So one year later here we are!

Enjoy!

Tick-tock.

1, tick.

10, tock.

11, tick.

100, tock.

101, tick.

Skip a few…

111100 - 60!

Futaba sat hunched on a stool, with her hands on her knees. She swiveled once in one direction, then twice in the other direction. Her little hair antenna twitched as she zeroed in on her designated mark.

"Inari. Hey, Inari. Whatcha doing here?"

Yusuke, who had been lounging comfortably in his usual spot, set his cup down and curtly replied, "I'm waiting for Ren. We are to hang out this afternoon."

He picked it back up.

"So where is he?"

He set it down again. "It appears he's running a little late. No matter. I am content to wait here until he arrives."

With that, he resumed sipping quietly. Futaba squinted at him.

"Are you seriously just gonna sit there and sip your coffee like Slowpoke until he gets back?"

"Yes. If you don't mind. Although, I wouldn't mind a refill..." he murmured, as he thought to himself how he might savor his current cup for as long as he could before it became unpleasantly cold.

"Refills are 5000 yen. Per drop." snickered Futaba with a mischievous grin.

"They are not!" he retorted.

"Hey, don't blame me." She shrugged, throwing up both hands. "These are hard economic times and Leblanc has to stay afloat somehow."

"Where does it say that on the menu? Show me!" he demanded indignantly.

She pointed at the green chalkboard menu. "Right there in the corner. In teeny tiny print. You might need glasses if you can't see it."

"Preposterous! I don't believe you. Besides, I'll have you know Boss is very generous towards me. He always pours me a cup on the house."

"Is it cuz of that thing?" She stuck her finger out at the Sayuri hanging near the entrance.

"Do not refer to that painting as 'that thing'." he said crisply. "She is the Sayuri and I ask that you refer to its proper name from now on. Please."

Futaba dropped her hand but continued to stare at the Sayuri.

"Sojiro told me about it- her. Sayuri."

Yusuke set his cup down.

"It's fine. You don't have to force yourself." he said, finally.

"Who's forcing themselves?" she grumbled under her breath.

By now, Yusuke's cup was only a few mouthfuls away from being empty. Deciding it would be a waste of good coffee to not enjoy it at its optimal temperature, he gulped down the rest. As he lowered it, he glanced at Futaba who was apparently observing him like a curious but lazy cat.

"May I ask what business you have here, Futaba?" he sighed.

"This is Sojiro's shop, remember?" she responded, shrugging her shoulders. "Which means I'm welcome here any time."

"I see. Pardon me."

With that, Yusuke went back to staring into space. Futaba pulled a long face.

"So uh, has Ren messaged you or anything?"

"Come to think of it, he has not." Yusuke quickly checked his phone. "I hope he hasn't been inconvenienced in any way."

"You got ditched." she snickered.

His cup clattered down on its saucer. "If you must know, I arranged an appointment and everything. We both confirmed we would meet at exactly 1 o'clock in the afternoon to watch this art documentary. So here I am."

"Okay, okay sorry."

"Why must you be so irritable..."

She bounded over and tugged on his sleeve. "Hey, maybe we could, I dunno, watch it right now? Y'know while you're waiting. And then when Ren comes back you just start from the beginning."

"I'd rather watch this with him, if you don't mind." he replied, letting her continue to pull on his sleeve. "He always has tremendous insight, and I come away with new perspectives and a fresh view on art."

"Aww, c'mon. The TV's just up in the attic. I know how to work a DVD player too."

"That's his room though. I do not wish to intrude when he is not there."

"It's also the Hideout. Ren lets me go up there to play games all the time."

Yusuke crossed his arms. "You might not hold any reservations barging into a friend's room uninvited, but I do. Besides, I doubt you have little interest in art. You'll probably be bored. Aren't you more into that television show - what was it, Feathersomething-"

"Phoenix Ranger Neo Featherman!"

"Yes. That. Now why don't you go watch that instead and leave me in peace?" he sniffed.

"HEY! That reminds me! You screwed up my precious children!"

"Children?! What on earth are you talking about?"

"MY FEATHERMAN FIGURES YOU DOLT!"

"No need for name calling." he responded calmly, holding up his hand. "As I've told you before, I simply arranged them to be more aesthetically pleasing."

"You TORE their heads off! Pink will never be the same again! Red got hacked to bits! And Black and Blue…that sort of 'combining' is a disgrace to all mechas! Do you know how long it took me to build up my collection?" She wrung her hands. "Do you know how long it took me to get everybody into those exact poses?!"

What she didn't tell him was she decided to keep them that way because it grew on her. Nor would she ever admit to it.

"You never tried to make amends for what you did!" She sobbed into her hands. "Boo hoo. Boo hoo. Inari brags about having a sense of aesthetics when all he really does is break innocent little girls' action figures and isn't even sorry. He's just a bully. Bully Inari."

Yusuke heaved a long suffering sigh. "Very well. If it will make you feel better, we can watch the art documentary together..."

"Great! I'll get the TV set up!"

She scurried up the attic, leaving Yusuke scratching his head and pondering what would come of all this.

"Here."

A cup of Jagariko (Salad Flavor) dangled from her hand.

"My favorite flavor!" Yusuke cried happily. His hand automatically reached for the top before he noticed the thin foil barricade preventing him from helping himself to those lip-smacking savory potato sticks. He lowered his hand and waited tentatively but expectantly. Futaba was likely to tease him and offer him just one.

"How many am I allowed to have?" he asked cautiously.

She shook it, indicating he take it. "The whole thing. One cup for each of us."

He brightened instantly. "Why, Futaba! Perhaps we can get along after all! I shall always remember this act of generosity for the rest of my life! You, my benefactor of crunchy potato sticks-"

"Yeah, yeah, cool. Don't get too used to it. I'm gonna play it."

"You don't understand, I haven't had anything to eat since yesterday save for a cup of water. You truly are a life saver!"

"What are you a plant?" she groaned, looking exasperatedly from the beanpole of a boy to the houseplant behind them.

"Nonsense, I forgot to mention the two bean sprouts I ate as well!" he declared proudly.

"How you're still functioning has gotta be a modern marvel of science..."

"What was that?"

"Zip it, Inari! It's starting!"

The documentary opened with an image of the map of the world. It morphed into a globe that spun rapidly and simultaneously zoomed in on:

"South America." Futaba remarked, already crouching comfortably on a chair.

Yusuke nodded. "I am interested in how their history has influenced their paintings as well as the materials and colors they used, as we will soon observe."

"Mm-hmm." She peeled the foil off the Jagariko cup and began munching on one. "Aren't you gonna eat?"

"I would, but I wish to watch from start to finish without distraction." he replied, gaze transfixed on the screen.

"Oh."

She too set her cup of potato sticks on the ground, rested her hands on her knees, and remained in that stance for the duration of the documentary. It was only when the logos of various sponsors scrolled up and the screen faded to black did Futaba move. She unfolded her legs, hopped off her chair, and shut off the TV.

Yusuke watched her switch the cables from the DVD player to the old gaming system while he nibbled on Jagariko, deep in thought. Futaba had set up the TV faster than Ren did. She had also adjusted the brightness and contrast of the screen so they could view the pieces of art more clearly. She was as deft with handling electronics as he was with a brush. If their positions were reversed they might have been there all day, fumbling with the TV ports. In short, she had made the entire viewing experience as smooth and interruption-free as possible.

"Futaba, you were rather quiet the whole time." he remarked quietly.
"So were you."

"I was afraid you might have been bored."

"I didn't want to interrupt the narrator. Cuz, he makes it sound really interesting, right?" She ejected the DVD and popped it back in its case.

"José Clemente Orozco, Diego Rivera, and David Alfaro Siqueiros contributed to Mexican Muralism, Frida Kahlo's known for Surrealism, Albert Eckhout was famous for Colonial Art, then after him came Pedro José Figueroa and José María Espinosa who painted portraits and landscape paintings respectively, during the Post-Independence Period. Oh yeah, I thought the Nazca Desert Geoglyphs was the coolest. Who wouldn't want to make giant animal drawings you can see from space?"

He gaped at her. "Did you gather all that from one viewing?"

She flinched. "Uh-"

Freak.

"T-t-t-the names were on the cover of the DVD a-and uh, I was reading off that-"

Futaba's a freak. Freaky Futaba. HA! HAHA HAHA HAHA HA!

The mocking voices. The finger pointing. The jeers and sneering eyes. The-

Yusuke seized her hand and shook it warmly.

"Marvelous! Simply marvelous! To have absorbed so much from seeing it just once! It's clear this historically rich tapestry of South American art made its mark on you! If you got this much out of one documentary, just imagine what else we could discover within other periods of art! Other cultures!"

"Okay! I get it! Just leggo my hand!" she squeaked.

He let go instantly.

"I do apologize, Futaba! In my excitement I got carried away." said Yusuke, clearing his throat. "I don't know too many people with whom I can share my passion for art with… I hope you understand."

"Y-yeah. It's cool. I'm kinda the same way with computers and niche anime and stuff."

She capped one hand over the other. How small he had made her hands seem! Yet his hands did not swallow hers but rather enveloped them quite nicely…

An awkward laugh tumbled out Futaba's mouth and she fidgeted with her fingers. "So uh, what, do, now?

He patted his pockets and gasped. "It seems I left my phone downstairs. Excuse me while I go down to retrieve it."

Futaba trotted after him shortly after.

"Hey, uh, you forgot about your Jagariko." she said, placing it on the table.

He nodded in thanks. "I had planned to come back upstairs as soon as I got my phone, but thank you."

"Still nothing from Ren?" she asked.

"It would appear my phone has run out of power so I'm unable to check. I didn't realize it was so low on battery. I'm pretty sure I just charged it last night…" mused Yusuke, scratching his head.

She held out her hand. "Gimme that. You can use my charger."

"You've been most helpful today, Futaba."

She flashed him a grin and a peace sign over her shoulder and plugged his phone in a open socket near the rice cookers.

"It's almost like you're a different person. Is this what they call a (Persona)lity change?"

"Way to kill the moment, Inari."

"Still, for our friend to be this late…" he mused to himself, without missing a beat. "I wonder if he's forgotten?"

"No way." Futaba stepped around the counter, her gaze firm. "Ren always keeps his promises."

"Yes, you're right. I just hope he's all right." His brow creased before it was lightened by a grand smile. "Then again, knowing him he's probably helping some poor soul in need."

Futaba hummed in agreement. She was about to point at his empty coffee cup still occupying his table but caught herself and gestured towards it instead.

"Hey, Sojiro went out to buy stuff. The least you can do is bus your own table."

He immediately grabbed both cup and saucer in both hands. "How rude of me. I shall clean up at once. Would it be all right if I just leave it in the sink?"

Just like Sojiro when he was making "old man excuses". Futaba nearly laughed at the resemblance. "Yep. Make sure you soak it."

Yusuke submerged his cup in the sink. He considered washing it himself and inquired Futaba for permission but she was gone. Looking to and fro he found her by the entrance.

She was gazing at the Sayuri. Her hands were clasped behind her back. She shifted her weight and crossed one foot behind the other. One tender word passed silently through her lips.

Mom…

She reached out to the mother tenderly holding her child, stopping her fingertips just short of its frame.

"It's weird. I start thinking back to the days when Mom was there just looking at this painting."

Futaba smiled mildly, fondly and it made a lump form in his throat. He swallowed it.

"I barely knew her." His bangs drooped over his eyes and he could not bear to look at either of them. "This is the only picture of her that remains. And it's not even a real photograph. It came from my former teacher's mind. I… sometimes I don't even know how to feel about that. Perhaps that's why I left it here in Leblanc."

"I can easily deny him as my master. He is no longer "sensei". Just Madarame, a despicable fiend who wore the skin of an artist." Yusuke sighed and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "But I cannot deny that he raised me. If he had not taken me in...I would not be here. I don't know where I would be if he hadn't ignited my passion for art. But was it due to my talent or just my upbringing? How can I pick up a brush or a charcoal pencil when I don't know whether I draw to be recognized or capture pure beauty on the canvas?! If my motives aren't pure, how will I ever produce something I myself am satisfied with?"

He dug his nails into his palms. Futaba looked at him worriedly. His hands fell to his sides as loose fists.

"I do apologize. I let my emotions get the better of me and got carried away again."

She shook her head. "Uh, I don't really get the art aspect but it's obvious you're into it. Clearly. You like what you like cuz you like it. Don't go bursting your brain over it."

He chuckled wryly. "I believe that's the wisest thing I've heard you say."

"'Bout time you realized!" She puffed her chest out proudly. "Just look how much you care about the Sayuri."

"Indeed." He could gaze at the woman in the painting once more. "This was the last thing my mother worked on. Her final thoughts are expressed in this piece. She wished to impart something to me…as well as to all who view it. But what exactly?"

"Maybe it's like me trying to understand Cognitive Psience…" she mused to herself.

"Your mother's research. You could even call it her life's work." he remarked admirably. "I can see why you made the connection between the two."

"Yeah, in a way it's like talking to my mom."

She couldn't stop herself from grinning if she tried. Yusuke had phrased it perfectly.

"She poured her life into her research so the more I understand Cognitive Psience, the more I understand Mom."

"Then, if I unlock the mystery behind the Sayuri, will I also come to understand my mother's last wishes? Why did she choose to paint this self-portrait as her last work?"

"Mystery? What mystery?"

He covered the child with his hand.

"The appeal of the altered Sayuri was her mysterious smile. An alluring mystery that allowed the viewer to interpret it however they liked. But answer for her mysterious smile is this child she holds in her arms. And what a tender smile it is to behold! Yet why? There must be some deeper meaning behind it."

"There's no mystery. It's right in front of you."

Futaba slowly reached up, laid her hand on his wrist, and lowered his hand.

"Yusuke. You were loved by your mother. That's the message of this painting."

He only looked at her wordlessly.

"My mom smiled like that." With bold confidence, she smiled and pointed directly at him. "So take this from me! You were loved from the day you were born."

Yusuke's eyes widened slightly. A spectrum of untold emotions rippled through him. His fingers drifted over to the painting and traced the woman's serene face, down to the child in her arms.

"Love. This was painted by a woman - no, by my mother who loved me." He laid a hand over his heart. It felt strangely heavy. "Is this why the Sayuri continues to call out to me? Is this why she continues to speak to me?"

His hand fell away from his chest. He lifted his eyes in quiet awe to the girl who made clear this wondrous revelation. Futaba held still.

Tick-tock.

1, tick.

10, tock.

11, tick.

100, tock.

"Ina-"

Yusuke blinked. His gaze drifted back to his hand. He turned it over and stretched out his fingers.

"Is this what I lack? The missing piece in my own art?"

Futaba opened her mouth. Whatever she uttered was lost to the chime of brass bell hanging over Leblanc's door.

"Yusuke! You're still here? I texted you I couldn't make it."

In burst Ren. One hand clung onto the door frame for support. His dark curls flopped over his face, and he hung his head panting and apologetic. Yusuke held out his hand.

"Did you, now? I'm afraid my phone ran out of power so I was unable to check my messages." he replied casually as though Ren had only arrived five minutes late. "Although, seeing you in this ragged state makes me wish I could have replied sooner so you would not have worried so."

"Are you okay, Ren?" asked Futaba. "You wanna sit down or…?"

"Fine. Just fine..." he gasped.

"Lemme get your phone, Inari. It should have enough juice by now. And I'll get you some water, Ren." Futaba disappeared into the kitchen.

Ren straightened himself and shut the door. "Sorry, I was-"

Yusuke held out his hand. "Worry not, my friend. My time here was not wasted. In fact, I'd say it was well spent. That is why you need not apologize."

He then turned and smiled at Futaba returning with a glass of water and his phone. "I believe I've made a budding art connoisseur out of Futaba. Isn't that right?"

"I mean, it was okay. I guess. Featherman's still better." she said, rocking back and forth.

"Is it really? Perhaps we should watch that next to refute your argument?" Yusuke responded with undeniable excitement.

"If we happened to end up in this exact same situation again, then maybe I don't not suppose I won't possibly mind…" mumbled Futaba, fumbling with her frames.

"...Which is it?" muttered Ren.

Yusuke merely tilted his head inquisitively.

"Whatever!" she yelled. "I'mma make like a blue hedgehog and roll home!"

Yusuke watched her dash out the door rather forlornly. "I don't understand. I thought we were getting along quite well. Was it something I said?"

Ren chuckled knowingly. "Futaba's still getting used to hanging out. Probably."

"Ah, I see. So she was tired and went home to recharge." he said, pocketing his phone.

"Well, just try to be patient with her." said Ren, stressing patience in his voice.

His lanky friend sighed quietly. "I suppose."

"Hey, is that yours?" asked Ren, eyeing the open cup of Jagariko.

"I almost forgot! I can now snack at my leisure!" Yusuke immediately devoured three sticks. "I don't suppose you want any?"

"I'm good…"

Ren opted for his glass of water while Yusuke munched away. They both lounged in the booth closest to the front of the café.

"Oh, keep your phone on."

"Hmm? But why?" Yusuke asked between the crunching. "It's always on."

"Who knows?" he responded between sips. "It just might start ringing later."

Yusuke's phone did indeed start ringing later in the evening while he was sketching. To the tune of the Featherman Theme Song.

"WHEN DID SHE!?"