CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN – CLOSURE (NatSuke)
The blinds on the windows of the Matsuda Eatery had been lowered, sending the message to passersby and would-be customers that the diner was closed for the day. Even so, as he glanced around their empty diner, waiting for his mother and sister to come back from the kitchen bearing the food for their luncheon, Daisuke wondered whether the presence of a few customers would have made the atmosphere more awkward or not. His father's arrival weeks ago had caused quite a stir, but that was nothing compared to the tension of his presence now. Daisuke had glanced curiously a few times at the woman at his father's side, marveling at how the years have made her seem different from the woman he had seen once when his parents were finalizing their divorce. His father was talking to her softly, and Daisuke could feel a hint of coldness in her eyes, as if she wanted to be someplace else other than here.
His sister Hiroko seemed to feel that as well, as she had nothing but glares for Chizuko Kanemaru. Their mother had been immensely relieved and thrilled when Hiroko had approached her two nights ago and told her that she would be there for their father's last visit, but it was obvious that her contempt at their father's new wife still lingered. Daisuke had expected his father to bring his children along—two boys, a two-year-old and a six-month-old, based on what he had heard from his mother—but the sight of his half-brothers would be undoubtedly difficult to digest for both him and Hiroko, even if their innocent presence would make arguments more difficult to start.
The sound of footsteps made Daisuke look up from where he sat. He saw his father approaching him with a smile. "Are you okay?" he inquired.
"Yeah," Daisuke lied, though not out of contempt; he seriously had no idea what to feel right now apart from awkwardness, even if it was different from the frustration he had felt four years ago. "Mom said that she and Hiroko will be fine in the kitchen. Why don't you and . . . a-and . . ."
He cleared his throat, not knowing what to call his father's wife. "W-Why don't you two sit down?" he finished clumsily.
"One moment," said his father. He turned to Chizuko and nodded towards the table, signaling her to come with him. For a moment, the woman looked as if she would turn away and leave them be, but instead she let out a soft sigh and walked timidly forward. Only when she was finally seated on his right did his father sit down at the table, right across from where Hiroko would be seated.
Daisuke was dreading the moment when he would be compelled to think of something to talk about with his father when the door to the kitchen opened. His mother came in, wearing a modest white dress beneath her apron, carrying a bowl carefully. She laid it down at the table, glancing at everyone with a polite smile, but she said nothing as she made her way back to the kitchen. Daisuke looked and saw that his mother had chosen to cook beef curry as one of their main fares, and the sight and smell of it made his stomach growl in spite of the awkward atmosphere. Hiroko was still nowhere to be seen, but Daisuke could hear her moving around in the kitchen amid the sound of pots, pans and bowls clinking and clanking. She would come out alongside their mother when the last plate or utensil was set down, Daisuke knew, to take her place at the table and draw less attention compared to coming out of the kitchen last.
More dishes were soon laid out—stir-fried vegetables with tofu, fish fillets and scallions steeped in oyster sauce, miso pork, and even a small platter of spiced chicken gyoza. Daisuke remembered how his father loved eating gyoza when he was still with them, and he wondered if it was a good choice on his mother's part to cook them for today. Perhaps she had done so to make their father feel more comfortable with some familiar food, but it also added a touch of melancholy as it brought back memories of what used to be.
True enough, Hiroko exited the kitchen with his mother not long afterwards, bearing the rest of what they would be needing—spare bowls, some cups for tea, and an extra bowl of rice. She took her seat quickly without sparing a glance at Chizuko or their father, her posture more rigid than Daisuke had ever seen.
As they begun eating, Daisuke let his mind wander back to what Natsuki had told him when he asked her opinion on what could happen on this visit. Though she joked about Hiroko lacing their father's food with laxatives or upending the table in a fit of rage in her attempt to lighten the discussion up, Natsuki had a grim gleam in her eyes when she spoke to him. Daisuke wondered if that was because the matter involved fathers who messed up with their families- which was an experience that she could undoubtedly relate to—or if Natsuki was feeling worried for him and what he could feel during the visit.
"To be fair, I don't see any reason why your dad would wanna argue on this last visit," Natsuki had told him. "I can tell that he's serious about apologizing, at least. And the fact that he's bringing his new wife along—really brave of him, I'll give him that, but it'll surely tick your sister off. If I were you, I'd make sure to let your mom or even your dad start the discussion instead of Hiroko—less chance of her dictating the talk and starting an argument. It'd be better if you can coordinate with your mom about this so that she can help you. If your dad apologizes again to you three, just hear him out and say what you need to say—or what he wants to hear."
"'Say what he wants to hear?' Wouldn't that be a bit too insincere?" Daisuke had asked. "I mean, Mom wants this wrap-up to be good, and lying doesn't seem like the best option for that."
"Well, yeah, but it'd be hard to forgive your dad on the spot. This wrap-up is already four years in the making, but your sister's still steaming from it. She won't let go that easily. Just . . . Just advise her to suck it up and be done with it once and for all." At this, Natsuki had let out a guilty sigh. "I'm sorry if that sounds too blunt. I'm not used to giving advice for serious stuff like this."
"No, no, it's alright. Your opinions will help me think of a few things as well. Thank you, Natsuki." Looking back, however, Daisuke wondered if what he would say and do would make much of a difference if things started going south.
Surprisingly, lunch seemed to pass by peacefully enough. Much of the credit for that went to their mother, who dictated the conversations with questions about work and moving out, or about old friends and relatives. Their father replied and talked easily enough, and he would often direct a question towards Chizuko to let her in the conversation. Chizuko was polite enough to reply when prompted, but it was during the moments when she spoke that Daisuke could feel resentment emanating almost palpably from Hiroko, who was eating in complete silence next to him. Still, the fact that she had not directed even a single side comment out of disdain at their father's expense seemed to be proof enough that she was fulfilling her duty not to start a verbal war. Though no hostility permeated the atmosphere visibly, however, things were far from being jovial. Eager to keep everything civil, Daisuke joined in the conversations as well, though he directed most of his replies and questions to his mother at first.
Once everyone had eaten their fill, their mother stood up to begin clearing the table. Their father smiled as he finished his cup of tea. "That was all delicious. Thank you for the meal, Etsuko."
"I'm glad the food was to your liking," their mother replied, smiling back as she balanced bowls and plates on top of each other.
"Ah, please, let me help you there, Etsuko," said Chizuko, standing up and gathering what spare plates and utensils were left on the table.
"Oh, there's no need for that, Chizuko!" said their mother. "Hiroko and I can manage!"
"No, it's okay," said Chizuko with a timid bow. "Many hands make light work, after all."
At that, his mother turned to stare at him helplessly. Daisuke nodded, wordlessly telling her to let Chizuko carry on. To the right, he caught a glimpse of Hiroko looking rather grim, and he wondered just how much she wanted to spit out a snide remark then and there. Nonetheless, his sister seemed to think the better of it as she carried her own batch of dirty dishes to the kitchen. Chizuko and their mother followed not long after, leaving Daisuke alone with his father.
Trusting that their mother would be able to rein in anything that Hiroko might say or do in the kitchen, Daisuke turned to face his father. "So, Kyushu, eh?" he said. "Definitely not close by."
His father nodded. "Work offered me a good deal, couldn't pass it up. Plus, Chizuko always wanted to go and see Fukuoka. Some of her relatives live close by over there."
"I see." Daisuke remembered Osaka for a moment, and whether or not Kenta was doing better or worse since his return to school. "Is there any chance you might come back here in Kanto?"
"I can't say," his father replied with a sigh. "Things are looking pretty permanent for us at Kyushu. Might take several years before we go someplace else, even to visit."
"Well, I know that you're not visiting us anymore after this, let's get that straight," said Daisuke.
A short silence fell. Daisuke glanced at his father again, digesting the words that he had just uttered to him. As much as he felt that there was nothing out of the ordinary about their luncheon, the fact that this was his father's last visit was starting to make him remember the past. He remembered the resentment and sorrow he had felt then, and how odd it was that he had stopped himself from ever voicing his pain in the way Hiroko had done.
At that moment, the silence was suddenly pierced as the kitchen door opened. Hiroko strode in, looking sullen. Straightaway, Daisuke sensed that something untoward had taken place in the kitchen, but there had been no raised voices or other noises to alert him of such. Next to him, his father sat up straighter, seemingly worried as well of anything unfortunate that might have happened.
"What's wrong?" Daisuke asked his sister.
Hiroko waved her hand dismissively. "Mom just decided that she'd do just fine in the kitchen, and that wo— I mean, Chizuko said that she'd be fine helping her with the dishes. Didn't wanna start anything, so . . . yeah."
With an effort, Daisuke kept himself from heaving an obvious sigh of relief. "Well, why don't you join us in here for a while, then?" he offered.
Hiroko stared directly in his eyes, and he could only imagine the unspoken message they gave him: No chance in hell. But he matched her stare, compelling her to remember what they had talked about before regarding the visit. Though he guessed that Hiroko would tell him off later for trying to force her to stay with him and their father, he felt adamant about not letting her end the day on a sour note.
Sighing, Hiroko bowed her head and made her way to the table in a huff, sitting down on the same chair where she sat earlier. Their father, who seemed to have been struck dumb during their brief exchange, relaxed his stance in his own chair, not looking at either of them. For a moment, Daisuke wondered if he had just made things worse in his desire to keep everything under control. The silence between the three of them stretched further, magnifying the awkwardness a hundred times over.
Daisuke decided to push on. "So . . ." He turned towards his father, clearing his throat to stay composed. "Is there anything you wanna say to . . . to Hiroko?"
The two of them turned their heads at him, startled. "W-What do you mean by that, Dai?" Hiroko asked him.
Daisuke sighed. Many times before, he had seen such a scenario unfold in the manga books he had read and loved; the protagonist, faced by a looming personal argument of epic proportions, decides to take the direct approach and nudge the people involved into opening up about what they wanted—and needed—to talk about. While such an approach often produced meaningful results for the book's plot, it could easily backfire and implode in real life.
It's worth a shot. If things go south . . . well, at least this is the last visit.
"Look, we all know that it was bound to come sooner or later—the part of your visit where we talk, I mean," Daisuke went on. "If we're gonna get on with the rest of the afternoon, we may as well start being serious and honest. The more we pretend and put it off, the higher the tension will get, and by the time we start talking, it's gonna be mostly arguing."
Their father looked discomfited. "But you know that I'm not . . . I mean, arguing, that's . . ." he stammered.
Daisuke cut across him with a serious look. "You told me before that you wanted to talk to Hiroko, right?" he asked. "During your last visit, you said as much. Well, if this really is your last visit . . . now's the best time to do it. If Mom and Chizuko come around, they can join us."
Glancing at Hiroko, their father looked older beyond his years. There was a mixture of resignation and shame warring on his face, like with Chizuko earlier.
"It's alright if Hiroko doesn't—" he began, but the sound of a chair scraping against the floor made him stop; Hiroko had sat up straighter, her head bowed slightly.
"Dai's right," she muttered stiffly. "If you're gonna say something, go ahead. We're doing this right here, right now."
Daisuke knew that his sister's tone brooked no promises that she would not flare up and start throwing things, but to her credit, Hiroko was quick to forestall such musings. "I'm not going to shout or pick a fight or anything. I'll try to hear you out, but I'll definitely say stuff in between, so . . . be ready."
She raised her head, staring straight into their father's eyes. Looking at her as well, Daisuke wondered what was behind her gaze. Defiance? Acceptance? Or a little of both and some other emotion, most likely? Either way, it made Hiroko appear very different from the laid-back, playful sister that he had always known. It somehow saddened him to know just how much the issue still affected her, and he respected her greatly for helping their mother move on and being open enough to talk to their father now. For Mom, he remembered telling her.
For Mom, she had echoed.
At that moment, the sound of footsteps made the three of them look around. The door to the kitchen was open, and there stood Chizuko. With her hands clasped in front of her in an expression of silent politeness, she reminded Daisuke briefly of Yuri Hoshino. Chizuko took a few short steps forward. Her poise was composed but rigid, and her voice had a somber edge to it when she spoke again.
"Pardon me for barging in like this, but . . . I've always wanted to try and speak to you two, since I n-never got the chance before. If you would permit me . . . I'd like to take the time to do so now, alongside M-Masaru."
Daisuke gaped at her. He had expected Chizuko to simply sit or stand by in complete silence once the family matters were brought up, especially given her casual and distant demeanor throughout their luncheon. This time however, she looked contrite, sorrowful even.
Before anyone could speak following her words, Daisuke saw his mother hurry out of the kitchen behind Chizuko. "Is everything alright?" she asked, looking worried.
Their father stood up. "Everything's alright," he said in a would-be calm tone. "We've just . . . We were just talking, and Chizuko was, er . . ."
His voice faltered as he fumbled with what to say, but surprisingly, Hiroko came to his aid. "Dad wanted to talk to me—to us," she said. "I guess we should've waited for you two as well. Sorry about that. . ."
Daisuke stared at his sister for a moment, digesting the fact that she had just called her father "Dad" again. Chizuko stood by silently, but she gave Hiroko a small, grateful smile nonetheless. Their mother paused for a moment before smiling as well.
"I'll go make some more tea," she said.
Ten minutes into the conversation between the five of them, Daisuke knew that the tension in the air was at an all-time high, but there were thankfully no hints of hostility this time around. Like him, Hiroko was prepared to take in whatever their father and Chizuko would say, and though she still appeared more serious than ever, her initial upset demeanor was replaced by dismal silence. Their mother sat next to her, patting her arm comfortingly every once in a while, though she also looked rather subdued as she listened alongside the two of them. And who could blame her? To bring a final measure of closure before their father's departure would require an uncomfortable trip down memory lane, and pain and sadness were always involved when old hurts were revisited.
For those who had done the hurting, Daisuke knew it was bound to be even more torturous, and their father certainly showed that as he spoke lugubriously.
"I know I must've tried to talk to you three like this before, so I'm truly thankful for today. Accepting us here before Chizuko and I leave the city . . . that's a luxury I didn't count on getting from any of you, and we appreciate that. Especially from you, Hiroko. You're the only person here whom I haven't talked to directly yet since . . . since everything happened. If you'd let me, I'd like to apologize for the final time."
"Why don't you start by saying what went wrong along the way?" Hiroko asked silently. "I know that explaining will make it sound like an excuse, but I want to hear it. What was it, Dad?"
"Problems, and a man who didn't know how to handle them properly," their father admitted. "Problems at the office, with your grandparents, with every little thing in between that made me and your mother quarrel whenever I got home from work on a bad day. Looking back at it all, it's really pathetic. Fathers are supposed to be strong for their families, but I was too weak."
"No, you weren't," Hiroko shot back. Her silent but bitter tone made their mother place her hand on her arm again. "You were too strong, too proud to admit that you had problems that you needed to sort out without fighting with Mom. She was always ready to help you, ready to discuss what needed discussing, and yet you felt like you could handle it all by yourself."
That made their father fall silent for a few seconds. As if she could smell blood, Hiroko went on. "Tell me I'm wrong. That's what happened, right? You kept it all in. You felt like you were being heroic and strong by not sharing your problems with Mom, but you started to crack from all the pressure. Sure, you didn't want Dai and me to see you two just fighting all the time, but you thought that the only answer that you had was to keep quiet and let things grow worse in the meantime. When it became too hot for you to handle, well . . ."
Though his sister kept her voice at a civil tone, Daisuke could feel just how deeply her words stung, and he wondered how terrible it must be for their father to hear all this and not being able to defend himself from it. After all, as harsh as it sounded, it was the truth, and the shame that crept in on their father's face was all the affirmation they needed. Their mother looked steeped in resigned sorrow, still caressing Hiroko's arm.
This time, it was Chizuko who spoke. Her voice trembled, and her beautiful features looked pale. "I'm to blame for that, I'll admit. Masaru was one of my good friends at the office, and to see him bounce between being stressed out or depressed, it definitely c-caught my attention. I wanted to help him out, but . . ." She turned away, her hands clasped tightly together over the table, and went on a different track. "I shouldn't have interfered in the f-first place. It wasn't my b-business to do so."
"No, it was only natural that you'd want to help, Chizuko," their mother stated. "The past few years have let me think about all this over and over again, and I had my shortcomings too. I wasn't there for Masaru often, and I asked for too much when I forced things on him. We were struggling when I started with this diner, and I wanted his full support to help see us through. It was too much to demand, though, with the kids still studying and . . . and other things happening in between."
"We could've tried," Hiroko interrupted. "We could've at least waited to see if we all made it together with each other's help, right?"
"No, things might have gotten worse, and the diner wouldn't have taken off as well as it did eventually," said their mother. "Your grandparents would've been breathing down your father's neck at every turn, and it would've added more problems. I think the time off that we got, being away from each other . . . I guess that's what helped everyone sort things out."
Chizuko shook her head. "I still shouldn't have let it escalate the way it did. Masaru was married to you, and I was seeing someone when it all took place. I should've just offered him advice and been done with it, but when I had p-problems of my own, Masaru was there, and . . . No, I shouldn't talk about that right now. Shameful, all shameful. . ."
"It might be shameful to some, but I think it's understandable if you devote enough time to understanding everything that happened. At the very least, I'm glad that Masaru had someone to be with after it all." As their mother said those words, a wistful smile crossed her face. "When it all boiled down, I knew that things were over for the two of us, but I wanted to part with him civilly. I wanted him to be able to move on and eventually find happiness. It was hard at first to accept that, but I couldn't stay bitter for the rest of my life—I mean, how will Hiroko and Daisuke cope with that, right? And now you've got kids of your own too. When I'd heard about it, that's when I realized that I couldn't possibly keep spiting you even if I wanted to, and so I sent Masaru that letter."
Her words were followed by a somber silence. Looking back at the past with the rest of them, Daisuke remembered thinking back then if their father had chosen Chizuko simply because he was sick and tired of the quarrels he had with their mother, but he knew now that that wasn't the case. It was simply because his father had found solace in someone else, someone that helped him stay afloat even as he was sinking from the weight of his insecurities about being strong enough on his own. Chizuko had meant well, that much was true, even if the emotions that ran high at the time created a bond between her and their father that ultimately split their family apart. And even if his parents still loved one another then, what their mother had said was true enough—that it would have possibly caused more harm than good if they tried to mend things without giving each other enough space, and it was fate that caused their father and Chizuko to grow closer in the meantime. And the rest, as the saying goes, was history.
"Dad."
Everyone turned to look at him, no doubt surprised by his sudden use of such a word to address his father like Hiroko had done earlier. Knowing that the time had passed for hesitation, Daisuke plunged onward. "If it's okay . . . I wanna say something too. It might be too serious or something, but I think now's the best time to say it." And the only time, he added inwardly.
"Go ahead, Dai," said his sister.
Daisuke gave her a grateful smile before turning back to his father. "Dad, during your last visit, I don't think we managed to talk properly to each other. I mean, we did, but you were the one who did most of the talking, right? Since then, I've been giving some thought about what I should be saying the next time we see each other, and I guess . . . I guess I've figured it out.
"I won't deny that I hated you for a while after what happened," he went on, "and I wondered too if the woman you ended up with was just someone who wanted to take you away from us. Begging your pardon, ma'am," he added, bowing politely towards Chizuko. "For a long time, I had only two images of you in my mind—the father I grew up with, and the man who left our family. It was really tough to think that those two persons in my head are one and the same, but as time passed, I knew it was the truth that I . . . that we were stuck with, and we could choose to either live with it, or keep having it ruining our lives for years to come. I guess Mom chose the previous option, judging by that letter she sent you, the one you mentioned. After all, it won't make any sense if we kept on clinging to the past. Of course, we won't be able to deny that what happened hurt us more than we all would've expected, but it would be worse if we didn't choose to accept it. Besides, I think we can all relate to the mistakes we made, along with the lessons we learned."
He paused, waiting to see if anyone would agree or disagree with his words. When no one spoke, he pressed on. "It won't be the same. That much we can already tell. There were days when we'd think about what could have been, what we could have done, stuff like that, and I'm sure days like that can come again in the future. We'll think about how hard it was and still is, and we'd keep blaming each other. But I think it's better if we focus on what will be. That's what got all of us going, right? I mean, it sure worked for Hiroko when she helped Mom," he added with a nod towards Hiroko.
"I'm not saying all this to make you feel like we're ignoring your apologies, Dad," he said. "I just want to repeat what I told you during your previous visit, and what Mom told you in that letter she gave you—that we've all moved on one way or another, and we owe it to ourselves to keep doing that. Besides . . . the future isn't something you can ignore, not when you already . . . already have other kids." Not wanting to make that sound like a bad thing, Daisuke smiled and added, "I'm sure you two will do your best to help them grow up. Don't worry about the three of us, okay? We'll be fine."
Chizuko sat up straighter when he turned to her next. "Ma'am, I know we haven't talked that much before," he told her, "but I just want to thank you for coming with Dad today and joining us. I know that my words might not mean much, but . . . I hope that you'll be able to help him continue his new life with you and your kids."
The smile that Chizuko gave him eased the somber glow on her features. "I really appreciate that, Daisuke," she said. "T-Thank you."
A short silence followed their brief exchange. Daisuke wondered for a moment if he had said everything that needed saying, and somehow he knew there was still something else that could be said. Before he could continue with that, though, Hiroko spoke up to his left.
"I guess Dai's right," she stated with a sigh. "If there's a good time to start burying the hatchet—and letting it stay buried—today would be it. I think the only reason I haven't been able to let go was because . . . there were still a lot of things that I didn't get to say."
Emulating Daisuke, she turned to face their father with a serious, determined glare. "To be honest with you, Dad, I always thought about how our family would've ended up if everything didn't happen the way they did. Every time I'd meet with my friends and I hear them talking about their parents, I'd always be jealous. And I'm sure Dai has gone through things like that during the rest of middle school too. All those things, they just made everything really hard to deal with, and the fact that you weren't there to even see it made it all worse. Losing you made the diner really hard to take care of, hard enough to postpone me from going to college and make me start looking for jobs to help with the payments and to help keep Dai in school. And all the while, I hated your guts. It's like if we were having it rough, I wanted you to have it rough as well. I didn't wanna think that you were off somewhere being happy about what you did while we were suffering.
"Still, Dai was right. We did make it with each other's help. And it made me happy to see Mom staying strong, and him growing up just fine. The diner was doing well after some elbow grease and a lot of tiring nights. I got a secure job, and the bills are getting paid on time. And for a while I thought that things would stay like that, but then you showed up again, and everything just . . . came crashing down. Seeing you back here, it brought back a lot of unpleasant memories. I remembered the time when Mom cried, and when we were still struggling to make ends meet for the diner. I remembered Dai keeping quiet all the time, and I wondered if he was doing alright at school after what happened. I remembered what you did, Dad, and when I went with Mom when she was settling your divorce, and all the money we spent and all those times when I wanted to just shout or cry even in front of your lawyers and all those other people. That just brought back the hate all over again, and all the questions too. Like if you really were sorry, if you really wanted to talk to us, then why do it now when you're gonna be leaving town? Why didn't you try for the past four years, right? I figured that you wanted to talk to us again just because you wanted to feel better about yourself before you left for good. Maybe you even stopped by to make us feel what we lost, to just shove it in our faces all over again.
"But listening to Dai speak, listening to you and Chizuko . . . it gave me time to think some more about why you couldn't do that, and I think I . . . I understand it better now. When I saw how hard it was for you and Chizuko to also bounce back, as much as I hated to admit it, it made me realize that you two aren't just a couple of heartless monsters. You're both human beings who made mistakes and regretted them dearly for a long time, and it's that regret that held you back in a way. It wasn't that you didn't try at all, or you didn't want to try. Not only is the shame still there, but I also I closed the door on you four years ago, when I told you that you shouldn't ever dare to talk to any of us ever again. And now, just before you're moving away for good, you decided to go for broke because like Dai said, it'd be the last time you'll ever get the chance, even if I won't give it to you, because you really wanted to cap off things for better or for worse. It's pretty crappy to think that those four years were wasted partly because of me.
"When Mom sent you that letter a couple of years back, I didn't want her to get through with it. Instead I wanted her to invite you over so that you can talk to her face to face. If that pushed through, however . . . I think it would've been nothing but war." Hiroko looked away for a moment, her face still utterly grave. "I knew I wanted closure, but I guess I should've known beforehand that it'd be a two-way street, and not an all-out rage fest. No matter how much I'd shout or throw stuff, nothing will change. And I don't think I can make your . . . your kids feel bad for what happened, no matter how angry I could get."
She looked back towards their father, her eyes shining with resolution. "Whatever happens from now on, wherever we may all end up . . . consider the hatchet buried. Don't worry about us anymore. Don't let us hold you back from living your lives and raising kids any longer. Let's just keep moving and looking forward. We didn't end up where we wanted to be the first time, but the people with us along the way, they'll help make everything easier to handle. As clichéd as it sounds, that's what family is all about."
As Hiroko finished speaking, Daisuke could not have felt prouder or more grateful for his sister. The tone of her voice made it evident that she was having difficulty in saying such things openly, but the fact that she had soldiered through it with both honesty and acceptance was better than any other expected outcome. Hiroko cast her gaze down, as if she was embarrassed of what she had just said, but their mother patted her on the shoulder reassuringly and whispered a few words in her ear. Daisuke did not hear what she said, but judging from the smile that crossed his sister's face, he knew that they were words of reassurance and gratitude, similar to what Chizuko and their father wanted—no, needed to hear.
That was evident enough as well when Chizuko started speaking up. Her voice shook as she fought back the emotions that were evident on her countenance. "It had been hard for us to try and t-talk to you about . . . about everything. So for you to say all that, you and your brother . . . t-thank you. It means so much to us."
Hiroko smiled at her, and Daisuke saw that her lips trembled for a moment as she opened her mouth to reply, but her words were cut short as their father rose all of a sudden. All eyes fell upon him, though it was hard to guess the emotions that were warring on his face. Again, such a ponderous expression seemed to make him grow older in Daisuke's eyes, as if his feelings were taking a concrete toll upon him.
Wordlessly, their father walked over to where Hiroko and their mother sat and knelt slowly next to them. Hiroko looked startled for a moment, but she understood as she locked gazes with their father. He placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Thank you, Hiroko." Like Chizuko's, his voice was hoarse with emotion.
Hiroko looked at him for a few moments longer before she bowed her head. In lieu of a reply, she reached out and pulled him gently into an embrace—the first embrace they had ever shared in the last four years, Daisuke knew. Next to them, their mother dabbed at her tears at the corner of her eyes with the hem of her apron. It was a sight that put Daisuke's heart at ease, and for a moment, everything was right in the world.
"To be honest, I expected your sister to pull off that laxative move."
"I was expecting that too, to be fair. Mom would've freaked out big time, though."
Back in the privacy of his room later that day, Daisuke had taken the time to narrate everything that had happened to Natsuki through a phone call. It was always a relief when she was left alone in the house while her father was out drinking with his friends—after all, it was the only time apart from being at school when she was safe from his wrath, and though he missed the sight of Natsuki's cute text emojis, hearing her voice was always a good tradeoff.
After the surprising moment that had transpired in their conversation with their father earlier, things continued without even the slightest hint of a quarrel or a somber return visit to memory lane. Instead, talk turned to questions about more casual topics, such as their father's children by Chizuko—whose names were revealed to be Hirotoki and Hirotomo—and about Hiroko's line of work. Soon, it shifted to questions about the diner, and then to the happenings at Koizumi Academy and Daisuke's standing as a student. It was the sort of talk that had been held back at the luncheon earlier, when the veil of conflicts four years' worth had still been hanging over them. Now, with the veil having been lifted, there were no more restrictions on cordiality, and Daisuke recounted everything for Natsuki, eager to let her know how much of a success things had been, revisiting all of it in his mind with a healthy measure of happiness salted with a touch of melancholy at the departure. What touched him the most, however, were his father's parting words.
You've been the man of the house for four years now, Daisuke. Take care of your mother and sister, alright? But also, don't forget to enjoy life with them and your friends. Thank you for giving us this chance. No matter what happens, I'll always be proud of you.
Simple words, but full of weight, to be sure, and Daisuke somehow felt sorry that his father could not say anything more. "Do you think they're gonna stop by to visit if they ever end up in Kanto again?" he asked Natsuki.
"Well, going by your convo, I think so," Natsuki replied. "I'm actually really surprised that you guys took all of this so well. Like, your mom's super nice and all to forgive and forget that easily."
"I wouldn't call it easily forgetting, but yeah, she's nice enough to let bygones be bygones. I couldn't say the same for Hiroko at first, though."
"Yeah, your sister's the biggest surprise of the day. And your dad's new wife, I expected her to be like this stuck-up little b— I mean, w-well, I just didn't think that she'd be pretty open in talking to you guys. Maybe that's one of the reasons your sister didn't wanna be ticked off all the while."
A short silence fell. Daisuke pondered for a moment whether he had missed on telling Natsuki anything, but she spoke up before he could say anything more. "I'm happy for you guys. Like really, I'm glad that you managed to put this particular hiccup behind you. If I'm gonna be honest, I was worried that you'd be really stressed out by it all, and . . ."
"And?"
When the silence prevailed over the other end of the call, Daisuke sighed. Now that the hard part of the day was over, it was time to address certain things that had been cast aside. "To be fair, I was also having second thoughts about sharing everything with you like this. . ." he said silently.
Thankfully, Natsuki spoke up again upon hearing his words. "Huh? What d'you mean?"
"It . . . It kinda feels guilty for me," Daisuke replied. "When we were talking about happier stuff, when everything had started turning out good, there were times when I imagined how . . . how hard it was on your end. Here we are, finally solving this problem we've had with our dad for a long time now, while you're—"
"No, stop."
This time, Daisuke was the one who seemed to be struck dumb. "W-What is it?" he managed after a few silent seconds.
"I know w-what you're trying to say, so don't say it, p-please." The way Natsuki stammered made Daisuke's heart ache all of a sudden. "Don't let my home situation make you think that you shouldn't be happy with how well your family's doing right now. I have it really bad over here, I can't deny that, but that doesn't mean the misery should infect everyone else around me. I don't w-want that, okay? Like I said, I'm happy for you, and knowing that you're happy as well, that makes me feel better."
Daisuke sighed again. That Natsuki would pick up on his thoughts and feelings quickly signified that she had also been mulling on such things for a while now, perhaps even long before she had given him advice on what to do during his father's visit. Natsuki did not say much nor open up any questions about such matters, but Daisuke always imagined sensing her thoughts whenever the two of them talked. Every time he did, he would imagine just how heavy the weight was on Natsuki's small shoulders, and whether the healing bruise next to her eye would soon be joined by a fresher one.
As if to distract from such a somber turn in the phone call, Natsuki changed tack. "A-Anyway, do you have any other p-plans for the festival?" she asked.
"Oh, n-not a lot," said Daisuke, feeling privately grateful for her control over their conversation. "I did manage to finish the banners my classmates needed for the booths, so unless they've got other stuff that they want me to draw and design, I'm home free."
"I see. Well, I've just been thinking. . ."
Daisuke took note of the slight nervousness in Natsuki's tone now. "What is it?"
On the other end, Natsuki let out a sigh. "I've been thinking about something for the past couple of days. I wanted to just tell you through text, but I figured that it'd take too long."
"Oh. Do you wanna tell me about it now or . . . ?"
Again, silence fell. Daisuke imagined Natsuki doing some very serious thinking on her side of the call. Although his curiosity was definitely piqued, he knew better than to try and coaxing things out of her right now, so he waited patiently.
"Ugh, I don't think I can say it," Natsuki grumbled after a while. "Is it fine if I just tell you on Monday?"
"Oh, sure thing!" said Daisuke. "Lunchtime, as usual?"
"Yeah, if I don't run into Yuri again," said Natsuki. "N-Not that I don't wanna run into her, of course! I just . . . I don't know if I can talk to one of you and make the other feel left out. M-Maybe if she can bring your friend along, she won't feel left out while we talk."
"Do you two still run into each other often?"
"Not for the past couple of days. I ran into her at the corridor one time, and she actually ignored me. I mean, I know I'm small, but I'm not that small to go unnoticed, right? But then again, Yuri did seem like she was out of it. She looked . . . I dunno, pale?" At that, Natsuki's tone grew a bit worried. "Hey, do you think she's not eating properly? I mean, I know I'm an e-expert when it comes to feeling hungry."
"I don't know about that. Naoki doesn't tell us much about her nowadays," Daisuke admitted. "Are you worried about her?"
Natsuki inhaled sharply. "S-So what if I am? I mean, I know Yuri's not as . . . open as some people you'd meet, but she's still a nice girl to be around with. I can totally see why Naoki likes her. I just hope she's . . . she's f-fine, that's all. . ."
As much as he wanted to crack a lighthearted joke or two about Natsuki's concern, Daisuke knew that his arm would pay the price if he did. "Well, let's just see if we run into her and Naoki again soon. If not, there's always the festival," he said lightly.
"Yeah, the f-festival. . ." Natsuki's voice trailed off a bit as she spoke. Daisuke waited for a moment, wondering if she would say anything else, but Natsuki merely continued without a single mention of what she had wanted to say for the rest of their conversation. He smiled and let it be. After all, there was always Monday to look forward to as well as the other days to come. And even though some days were heavier than most, what happened today proved that there is always closure and relief to be had for even the most burdened hearts.