Tetsuji

Once I had made the payment, I gathered up all my photocopies, and then the newspapers and books that I had been photocopying from. Putting my sheets into my bag, I went about putting the newspapers back where they had come from, but trying to remember the location of the books stumped me. In the end, I spotted a returns trolley and just decided to dump the books there before continuing on my way.

After finally being let out of the station, after I had gone back to the flat to call Otsuka, I had first headed to City Hall, and then to the library I had just left, looking for….well, I had not been sure what it was I had been looking for exactly. But I had found records pertaining to Hope's Peak with significant gaps in them, and more information about the murders I had thought were surely connected, and then as much information as I could find about the staff of Hope's Peak as well as the investigators of the case, and anyone connected to them. I'd need to go through it when I got back to the apartment, see if there was anything that would help make sense of things, or at least a hint as where I should look next.

It was not as if I could get information from other people. There was of course, the exception of Otsuka but even that, I wasn't sure of. The girl was the closest chance I had, what with being dismissed by the police. Truth be told, I wasn't holding much hope of ever being able to talk to Kirigiri's two children, not least because they were now detectives themselves and would probably see me in the same way.

As I approached the block, I looked around to see if Eizo and Azami could possibly be around. I didn't see the car that they had run away to last night, so it didn't seem like it. I still needed to get more out of them, but Otsuka would probably dig now that I'd told her what had happened and then if the police weren't taking it seriously they'd have to once it was out there in the world. I never thought I'd actively be helping a journalist make things harder for investigators, but then again I had never thought my daughter's life would be unfairly snuffed out without any justice. So there it was.

I opened my door and kicked off my shoes, going to sit in the living room and immediately pulling the sheets of paper out of my bag. Almost immediately, I came across the death certificate for Kazuo Tengan, and stared for a moment.

"So, um. What else has been happening?"

For a moment, on the screen, I saw Moeka's face falter, but then just as quickly the expression was covered by a smile as she twirled a lock of hair.

"Ah, well, there've been a few weird things going on lately. Well, not that weird, but-"

"Moeka." I interrupted sharply. "Has something happened?"

Her eyes widened.

"Nothing's happened as such, Dad, really there's nothing to worry about, I don't think, but some of us, we feel like we've been followed around and we've had some slightly creepy visitors that seem to want to hang around us a lot and ask strange questions about my love life-Daaaaad, don't growl like that, you know me and Ayumi-chan are just friends now because we're in different schools, I don't have a love life! And no, I'm not waiting until thirty to resume one…."

"I think we're missing the point."

Of course, she was right that I didn't particularly want her to date, but she'd never been irresponsible about that before so I could let it go for now. Besides, I was more worried about what she was actually telling me.

"Anyway, Moeka, who are these people?"

"Oh, well, it's just you know, the random visitors who come, like people working with other students and sometimes some of the associates of the staff, like…"

She listed a few names.

"And have they made overtures? Threats? Do you and your friends feel uncomfortable around them?"

"No to the first two, yes to the last. But it's not really anything to worry about, just a bit creepy. We stick together anyway, so nothing could happen."

"Do you want me to report them to the police?"

"What?"

Moeka had been as usually upbeat as she always was, but now the smile was wiped away by worry. Her gaze became shifty.

"Moeka?"

"I….we thought about it."

"Who's we?"

"Oh me, Kimiko-chan, Akari-chan and Azami-chan…..a few of the other girls, and Aozaki-kun, Fumiaki-kun and Eizo-kun."

"So you thought about it and…"

"Well, because it was just feelings, we decided to go Principal Kirigiri, but we found Tengan-san instead. He made us fill out these forms and said it'd be fine and not to make a big fuss because that would make everything worse."

"Not to make a fuss? Who is this Tengan to say that? Doesn't he know that these people escalate?"

"Oh, I don't think he's like an actual stalker, he's doing projects with some of the other students…and anyway, it's reported, it's okay, okay Dad? I'm sure it will be okay!"

Forms. There had been forms. My daughter had reported a problem, had filled forms about it…and then nothing had ever happened. Why had this not ever been followed up-because it hadn't, I knew it hadn't. I should have made a fuss back then-not even when she first went missing, but before. I should have insisted on talking to the detectives-because back then, we were fully on the same side. I should have demanded to talk to the Principal.I should have not been so easily swayed by my daughter's enthusiasm over a cross-country road trip undertaken without supervision. I should have done so many things that ultimately, I didn't. It was no comfort to me that it was not out of malice or deliberate deception, only a lax attitude and the openness that came with love. That didn't mean I couldn't hold that over the head of the school and everyone who stood for it.

There had been forms.

"So, where did those forms go?" I asked aloud. "Why were they never found? Were they destroyed? Or just hidden?"

And if they were hidden, where would they be now? Feeling the dryness of my throat, I headed to the kitchen, yanked open the fridge door and contemplated the contents. I considered a carton of juice, but then grabbed a bottle of beer and went back to the living room, and back to my pile of papers. And as I went through them, a pattern of thought formed.

The Oomori family had multiple houses, and all of Kazukiyo Oomori's documents were either back in the archives of the legal firm he worked for, or with his son Kazutaka in a house that was undoubtedly secured to the gills. Jin Kirigiri's house had been sold off to care for his nursing home costs, and while it seemed likely his children had any important paperwork he might have had, I didn't even know how to get a hold of them let alone where either of them lived. And while the elder might have picked up some things, the other had only been tiny when everything had happened. He'd have no memories of it. That left Kazuo Tengan.

Kazuo Tengan.

Tengan had been old money, the only child of only children. But he'd only married once, and hadn't had any children by the time his wife had died of cancer. From there, he'd spent all his time involved in major philanthropic projects, including Hope's Peak, and supporting the many ventures of the just-as-old-monied Oomori family. He'd died about ten years after Moeka had, and from the looks of things, his house had not been passed on to anyone, and had not been sold. As far as the information told me, that hadn't changed. For all intents and purposes, the house was little more than an empty shell these days.

It was a long shot, that anything would even be there. Even if the house wasn't currently occupied, no doubt somebody would have been hired to clear things out. But the house was in Towa City. And it had belonged to Kazuo Tengan. That man, who'd insisted on being involved, who had dismissed all concerns, who had only cared about his party. Who had dissuaded Moeka and her friends from making complaints and yet had made them fill forms.

If they were anywhere, they'd be there, right? Right?

I looked down at the papers for a long moment, then closed my eyes. It was a big risk. If I got myself arrested for real, then it would be all for nothing.

"It's okay Dad, really. I know it's your job to worry because you are Dad, so I can't and won't stop you. But everything's going to be great! I'll be back with souvenirs for you and for Mum-and watch, they'll be the cheesiest souvenirs known to man."

I blinked for a moment, distracted from my worry.

"Um…..what am I meant to do with a cheesy souvenir?"

Instantly, Moeka burst out into peals of laughter.

"Put it on your desk at work? I dunno. You'll figure it out. Anyway, I've got to go, more packing to do! Byeeeee!"

The video call ended, and I sat at the computer for a moment before shaking my head and getting up.

But such things were niggles, really. Because in the end, if there was a chance I had to take it. Otherwise, I'd just be the same as I was before-not doing anything, not doing enough. And I couldn't fail her again.

…

The house was in a quiet area of town. Wealthy, neat, very much a mind-your-own business sort of neighbourhood. Not that meant nosy retirees weren't peering through those covert net curtains or those screen doors. With that in mind, I had a face mask on, and I had a jacket and gloves ready in my bag. I pretended to walk casually past the front of the house, with its completely paved over garden and air of desolation, the shutters on the windows closed. Then, looking around, I took a dive for it and headed down the alley and contemplated the fencing around the back garden. It didn't seem particularly strong, and it wasn't very high either. But the thought of climbing it was daunting.

Dammit.

I looked around, and almost as if it was meant to be, I spotted a broken deckchair chucked carelessly on the side. Even as I clicked my tongue in irritation over it being there in the first place, I knew an opportunity when I saw one and so I strode over, dragged it back to the fence with some difficulty and then stood on it and heaved and groaned as I pulled myself over and landed in the garden in a messy heap.

Wasting no time, I got up and looked for any signs of life in the house, or any kind of security system in the garden. Knowing that Tengan, he probably would have fitted up his back garden to the gills, but I saw nothing that indicated that, and the windows facing the back garden could be seen through and there seemed to be nothing in there at all. Only generic furniture, Western-style. Wincing as I headed towards said door, I rubbed the side of my leg ineffectually and coughed more than a few times as I tried to settle my breath. All the while, I kept looking around, expecting that someone-a neighbour, anyone-would have noticed a disturbance by now. But nobody came at all.

The door was a traditional screen door, and opened with no problems, and I stepped through it, finding myself in the kitchen. This was Western style, sleek and shiny in the style of the early 2020s…but there was nothing in here. Everything was clean, but devoid of any sign of being lived in. Kitchen is a waste of time anyway, the most obvious place would be somewhere like a study or a bedroom. So I didn't bother looking in any of the cupboards, and just went onwards, taking a quick peek into the living room out of curiosity, the alcove which would have been a family shrine, and then a spare room which was devoid of everything apart from a filing cabinet.

Wait. A filing cabinet.

I stopped abruptly at the base of the stairs, and turned on my heel and marched right back to that spare room. I made a beeline for the filing cabinet and yanked at the drawers, expecting them to open easily. But they didn't. No matter how much I rattled, it became clear that this cabinet was locked. My heartbeat quickened, and I patted down my pockets, and then looked in my bag before finding a paperclip. I straightened it out and then rattled it around in the lock, trying to remember long ago attempts at small talk in the work place where the conversation of how to pick a lock with a safety pin came up. I heard it give, and then with satisfaction I yanked the first drawer open and pulled out a series of envelopes. The other three drawers also had envelopes, and I yanked all of those out too. Some had letter codes that didn't have a discernible meaning, but a number had dates. Or rather, year periods. 2008-2010, 2006-2008, 2016-2019, and so on and so forth.

I decided to start with the recent one, and ripped the envelope open. I pulled out a sheet, and my eyes instantly went to the top of the sheet:

STUDENT COMPLAINT FORM

Flicking through the pile quickly, I realised all of them were indeed forms of this nature, and I returned to the first one, apparently submitted in the autumn of 2016. I read that, and then the next, and then the next, and a horrible picture started to form.

…following me…

…wouldn't leave me alone…

..took photos without my consent…

…keeps sending me gifts that I don't want…outside my dorm room…

…messages….

…I feel unsafe….

Most of the names of those who had apparently written these complaints were not ones I recognised straight away, a few only making faint pings in my mind as being Hope's Peak students but nothing more detailed than that. However, it wasn't a stretch to assume all the names were Hope's Peak students, a fact that would be easy enough to cross-check. All the information had been filled in by hand, but someone had used tippex to censor names and other things that I assumed would identify the culprits in each situation. There was a section at the bottom of each form which looked like it was meant to be filled in by a member of staff, detailing the responses taken, but each and every one was blank.

Then I saw Moeka's name, and I had to pause, going back a few, and then flicking through again more slowly. The contents seemed mostly to deal with the sense of being followed, and of a man hanging around a lot.

Complainants: Moeka Kamiya, Sayuri Fujimoto, Seiko Yamamoto, Akari Kishinami.

Complainants: Kimiko Tsukuda, Moeka Kamiya

Complainants: Azami Kishinami, Akari Kishinami, Seiko Yamamoto, Osamu Aozaki

Complainants: Katsuya Komiya, Moeka Kamiya

Complainants: Fumiaki Amai, Seiko Yamamoto

Complainants: Sarah Mai Hashiri

Complainants: Moeka Kamiya, on behalf of 78-B

My hands shook, and my vision filled with red as I saw my daughter's name, her friends names, appearing over, and over and over again, youthful handwriting sharing recollections of things that they had seen as threatening, trusting fully that whoever they were writing it for would sort it out…and then nothing. Details censored so perpetrators couldn't be identified, and then shoved in a folder, and forgotten.

Ignored. Pushed aside. And for what?

I held the phone to my ear, waiting and waiting. I sent a prayer up to the heavens as the ringing continued, tried to imagine what song Moeka would have set her ringtone to and failing because why would I know anything about what music kids were into these days? But I tried to imagine it, imagine Moeka exclaiming and digging through her messenger bag and announcing to her friends that it was 'just Dad' and then answering me breezily.

But the ringing kept on, and then suddenly, it cut off. My daughter's voice replaced it, but it wasn't a breezy 'Heyyyyyyyyy' or 'Oh Dad, hi.' Instead, it was her voicemail message, apologising for not picking up and urging the caller to leave a message. I sighed and hung up, and then met my wife's eyes from across the kitchen table.

"Nothing?" she asked.

I didn't know why she asked-wasn't it obvious. I huffed, and nodded, and then averted my eyes as she sighed and put her head in her hands, trying to stem back tears. I should have been able to reach across the table, take strength in our common ground as Moeka's parents. But I couldn't. I just couldn't.

I just hoped I wouldn't regret it later.

I blinked, realising that my throat felt all blocked up. I took in a few breaths, coughing as I did so, and I stared at the sheets. These, I knew, were proof. That at the very least that Hope's Peak had seen danger and had chosen to ignore it. I quickly stuffed these ones back in the envelope they had come in, and put it in my bag, and considered opening another of the dated envelopes and maybe one of the other ones to see what was in there, when I heard the unmistakeable sound of the door opening.

Dammit.

I quickly grabbed as many envelopes as I could and then stuffed them into my bag along with the recent one, and then I turned tail and swiftly headed out of the room and back through the kitchen, relying on the fact the room wasn't one could be seen from the front door immediately to give me an advantage. But naturally, that advantage lasted only a few seconds as I soon heard someone calling out.

"Hey, what are you doing here? HEY!"

I increased my speed, as much as I could, bolting to the garden and back to the fence. There was nothing handy for me to use to heave myself over, so there was nothing for it to try and use my own strength to hoist myself over the fence, and as I heard footsteps getting closer to the garden, I tumbled over, landing on the deckchair. I didn't give myself time to feel the pain, I instead just got straight up and rushed back down the alleyway, down the quiet street and the rest of the way I came until I reached somewhere busier and slowed down, ever so slightly, looking around me.

I hadn't stopped to see who the person in the house was, but they'd sounded like a young male, possibly in their twenties, so I looked out for someone like that in hot pursuit. But….nothing. I didn't drop my guard the entire way back. But all the same, nothing happened.

The moment I got back in though, I took my phone out, and dialled Otsuka. She would be better placed to work out what to do with this.

And I suspected it'd be better in the long run if I didn't have these in my hands any longer.

…

I leapt up as soon as I heard the knock on the door, but I made a point of grabbing a stick and having it by my side, just in case. But I abandoned it as soon as I saw it was Otsuka, and only Otsuka.

"Looks like it's a good thing I don't have a guest until tomorrow." Otsuka said offhandedly. "Anyway, what did you get?"

I had no idea what she meant by that first bit, and quite frankly I didn't care, so I just grabbed the carrier bag that I had put the envelopes into and stashed by the door rack and handed it to her.

"And you have taken photographs, like I told you to?" she asked briskly as she opened the envelope and riffled through the contents without taking them out.

"Yes."

I raised an eyebrow at her imperious tone, but I decided to let it go. Mostly because I was too tired, and my leg still hurt from scaling a wall and running away as though I was some sort of delinquent teenager. As though they weren't the wrong ones for doing what they did. Or rather, for not doing what they didn't do.

"And you're sure they didn't see you?"

"They might have…" I said, thinking. "But I was wearing a face mask."

Otsuka nodded.

"Okay. Right, well. Don't stretch yourself, okay? Thanks for this. I'll make sure it doesn't get back to you."

"Right, yeah. Do you…do you think you've found out something."

"Not yet, but I'm well on my way to it."

Otsuka considered me for a moment, and then nodded.

"See you later."

I nodded at her, and then closed the door. Almost as soon as I did, my shoulders sagged and I yawned. The sun was still so bright, and though that was hardly a surprise considering the time of year, it still felt incongruous. It felt as if it should be dark now. Oh well, the darkness will come soon enough, won't it?Tiredly, I walked back to the living room and the mess I had left behind, and it occurred to me that maybe I should tell Kenichi.

It took me a moment to remember where I had left my phone-in my pocket-but when I found it, I realised that I had a voicemail from him. Huh. I didn't even notice my phone going off….the time the message had been left wasn't the time I had actually been in the house or the vicinity of it, so that was something at least. Standing where I was, I listened to the message, then played it again, and again.

Then, I called him back.

…

Mitsuhide

With my bag packed carefully, with all my best everyday outfits and one formal one, and all the other little things I usually took for short stays, I looked around my room and then checked my reflection in the mirror again before nodding at myself and heading out. I walked past my little sister's room, and heard her practising lines, so I decided to not to disturb her. Not that she'd be particularly perturbed by my absence anyway.

I wasn't sure where my parents and grandparents were, but I knew my other brothers were out and the staff were around the house here and there, no doubt busy with whatever tasks they usually did. So I didn't bother to look in any rooms and instead headed straight to the doorway, stopping to put on my shoes.

"Leaving without telling us?"

I looked up to see my grandfather peering around the door of the downstairs study and I blinked, surprised.

"Why hello there Grandfather, I didn't see you."

"Where are you off to then? Another recording?"

"I am spending some time establishing connections with some of my classmates-to-be."

"Ah, excellent, excellent!" My grandfather grinned. "Yoriyoshi, come, say goodbye to your son, an SHSL no less."

"He is not one yet."

My good mood deflated as my father also looked around the doorway, choosing to step out fully so that he could regard me with his full usual disapproval.

"Ah, well, you know how it was in the old days," my grandfather said genially. "The title was a guarantee, and I don't imagine that's changed now."

I could see my father was loath to admit this, but he could hardly go against his own father so he simply nodded stiffly, and adjusted the lapels of his own suit.

"That is true. And I have seen on the internet you have made the acquaintance of a true prodigy, which is an acceptable start. She might have an….ordinary background, but that girl is the epitome of true Talent, and none of you can ever measure up to her."

Well, of course not. She can do anything, even my own Talent. But that doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. My father regarded me, and then nodded.

"I trust you have entered the details of your trip on the family calendar?"

"I have."

"Very well then," he said. "Go, and make sure you do not bring down the Okita family name. You may have been the member of the family to gain such an esteemed title, but you still have a lot of catching up to do with them."

"I understand."

"Ah now, I am sure he will." My grandfather said companiably.

But it was little consolation, really. What else could I say? I concentrated on making sure the laces of my shoes were tied perfectly, and that no scuffs could be seen upon the shoes' surface and then I stood up and inclined my head at them before turning to open the door and step out.

It's not like it matters anyway. By the time this is over, I will have surpassed all their expectations. All of them.

"Oh, Mitsuhide?"

I had to fight to conceal my flinch, and I turned around, wondering what new disapproval my father wanted to convey. But his face seemed neutral as he stood there now on his own (I wasn't sure where my grandfather had gone) and he studied me carefully for a long time.

"Stay safe, alright?"

I nodded quickly.

"Of course I will, I am not one of the mindless masses after all-I have an aesthetic and reputation to maintain. "

Approval flitted over his features, and he nodded once before turning away. I took that as my cue to completely leave, and I did so with relief.

…

When Rieka opened the door, she was wearing an apron over her clothes, and she looked me up and down in undisguised disapproval.

"You do realise that this is the evening, and we aren't some hoity-toity rich family?"

"Yes, well, I have standards. Are you going to let me in?"

Rieka huffed and puffed and then stepped aside so I could come in.

"Oh, is he here?" I heard Rieka's mother, Miya, call out.

"Yes Ma'am, I am."

"Oh, excellent. Put away your things, and then you can come join us in the kitchen, okay? I'm just making dinner."

"Makin-"

WHAAAAAAAT?

"Sure thing, Miya-san!" I called out cheerily.

"I then turned my attention to Rieka who was locking the door.

"You're expecting me to do menial work in this outfit?" I asked, utterly aghast.

"Do you not have anything more casual?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "You can just change."

I stared at her. More casual? What sort of phistiline did she think I was? She stared back at me, and then groaned and face-palmed.

"Of course your suitcase is just filled with fancy shit."

"Riri-nee-chan, why not let him borrow Nii-chan's clothes?"

I startled at the sound of a small child's voice, and looked over to see a small boy standing on the stairs, looking at us curiously. It didn't take me long to work out who this must be, and I quickly smiled at him.

"And you must be Nicholas-kun, I'm charmed to meet you. I hear you are a fan of my audiobooks?"

"People call me Nicky." The boy said shyly, blushing as he headed down the stairs.

"Ah, my mistake, Nicky-kun, it's very nice to meet you, I must say. I do enjoy meeting young fans."

I held out my hand, and Nicky looked at it tentatively before reaching out so I could give him a handshake. He smiled briefly, then looked over at Rieka, who looked like she was about to explode at the interaction. When Nicky looked over tentatively though, she instantly did her best to look calmer, even smiling in a friendly manner.

"What do you mean, borrowing Nii-chan's clothes?" she asked curiously.

"It's Nii-chan's room he's staying in, right, and some of his old clothes are still there aren't they? He won't need them anymore. So Okita-san can borrow them and then he won't have to mess up his fancy clothes."

I didn't think Rieka would want to give me anything from any of her family members, but she appeared to think about this very carefully before sighing and nodding.

"Personally, Nicky, I think Okita-kun could do with learning to live with a little mess, but you know what, that's a good idea. I'm sure Nii-chan won't mind at all."

Rieka reached out to ruffle Nicky's hair, and he blushed and squirmed happily.

"Go and help Mum, I'll be down once I've shown him around, and then he'll be down soon after. Right?"

As Nicky obediently ran off, Rieka glared daggers at me, and I realised that I wasn't going to get away with not doing anything in the kitchen. So I sighed deeply and then nodded. Grinning in satisfaction, Rieka bounded up the stairs.

"Follow me," she called over her shoulder. "I'll show you where everything is, though you know my room and the bathroom."

Sure enough, she pointed where everything else was, pointing out her brother's room, parents' room and the room of an older sister that also functioned as a spare room since she was also away from home-all of which were off limits. Which was of course fine by me, so I wasn't sure why this warning had been accompanied with such a glare. In any case, the room that I was to be staying in just so happened to be right next to Rieka's.

Most of the things that would have marked it out as a particular person's room had been taken down, no doubt contained within a pile of neatly stacked boxes that were next to the light-brown wardrobe. The walls were a nice dark blue, that complemented the grey carpet and the light blue and white bedding. The curtains were also dark blue, though a different shade to the walls, and the bedside table, desk and the chest of drawers had clearly been part of a set with the wardrobe. There were a few baseball posters on the walls, which weren't to my taste, and of course the room was incredibly simple and not at all like my bedroom where everything was the finest it could be, designer or at the very least high-end. Yet, there was something about it. I wasn't sure what it was, but where any other room like this I'd have turned my nose up at, this one gave me pause.

"Right, well, the clothes are in those drawers, but don't worry, the top one is empty and that and the wardrobe should be enough space for you. You'll find your way down to the kitchen, right? Or are you liable to get lost?"

This was said with a sneer, and I glared at her. I could fit this house into mine about three times, and I certainly didn't get lost there! Rieka just smiled and nodded, choosing that time to flounce off. I stared as she disappeared, then sighed and rubbed my face tiredly. I went over to the drawers and opened a few at random, looking for something that I could still at least look good in, eventually finding some nice charcoal-grey slacks and a soft shirt in a much lighter shade of grey. I then quickly changed, making sure everything was neatly hung up, and then with some reluctance took off my jewellery (save for my ear studs, which I really didn't think would impede kitchen work) before heading down.

In the kitchen, I discovered that Rieka's father, Ronan, was there working alongside Miya and Nicky. He quickly appraised me, looking me up and down the same way my parents did…yet at the same time, the intent felt different. I wasn't sure how, until he grinned and indicated to Miya, who quickly bustled over and had me chopping vegetables of some sort. And as we did, we chatted. Miya and Ronan asked me a lot of questions about what I did with my life, and what my family were like. But when I gave them the answers, instead of getting judgement or anything like that, all they seemed to show was interest, and some excitement.

"So, audiobooks? Have to say if I didn't know who you were already, that would have surprised me. I'd imagine you following in your parents and grandfather's footsteps." Ronan said at one point as plates were arranged.

Of course, I had been asked this many times before, but I had an answer ready.

"Contrary to what you might believe, I really do enjoy reading. I know that the general consensus is that I hate my work and that I could be doing better things, like being an actor in TV or movies. But the truth is, flattering as that life is, I much prefer a more quieter occupation."

"Ah, I see, that's fair enough," Ronan replied with a grin. "We're all different, and that's what makes the world more interesting."

"Though it does seem like the audiobook world has some drama in it too, right? That must be hard to deal with." Miya said, looking over sympathetically.

"Ah, he's a big boy, he can deal." Rieka said cheekily.

"Well, when it comes to the spat the two of you had, I suppose there's a point-I don't appreciate you having dismissed my daughter's efforts, just because she had a different opinion of books you yourself liked, but she didn't behave so well in that either…"

Miya looked stern, but there was gentleness in her eyes. She reminded me of the stereotypical daycare worker type, and I remembered Rieka mentioning that she worked with children in some capacity.

"MUUUUM!" Rieka turned from the frying pan she was attending and stared. "You're supposed to be on my side."

I snickered at this-I couldn't help myself-and Rieka momentarily glared at me. Over her head, I noticed Ronan and Miya exchange a look, and then they chuckled.

"We are, honey, but the entire situation could have been handled better, couldn't it?" Ronan asked with gentle chiding.

"It's okay anyway, right?" Nicky piped up. "You're friends now, right?"

Once again, Rieka looked like she might burst, but then she looked at her parents, who regarded her with a look that was slightly disapproving, but still so warm it seemed to amplify the heat of the cooking going on. She then sighed and ruffled Nicky's hair.

"Yeah, I suppose."

Of course, I was under no illusions she meant that, but in truth I was more captivated to see her gentleness with her little brother, and how easily she chatted with her parents as momentarily the topic conversation diverged away from me. Normally, I'd be itching to try and get it back, but I decided to watch and observe. Saw how easy and comfortable they all were with each other, and how although it was Rieka with her brashness who took the center stage, Nicky wasn't overlooked, and neither tried to one-up the other. Indeed, Rieka was so solicitous of him, and their parents so warm towards the both of them.

It was really only the type of thing I had come across in the books I read.

I couldn't imagine laughing with my older brothers like that-maybe Keiki, sometimes, but even then that was a stretch. I couldn't imagine ruffling my little sister's hair or patting her shoulder or helping her with anything. I couldn't imagine happily cooking with my parents, though in all fairness we had staff to do that kind of thing anyway.

"Oh, yeah," Miya turned to me. "I forgot, I'm so sorry!"

I blinked.

"What?"

"Oh, no, just that you said it's a quiet life, yet I am sure you must have your share of slightly um…obsessive fans, and hateful comments. I know that kind of thing can be stressful."

For a long time, I just couldn't compute what she had said. I was far too used to sentiments along the line of Maybe then you're just not up to it and Seiichi is able to cope with his fans and Attention means you are succeeding. What did I do with comments like this, that were so instinctively concerned? Could I even believe them?

Hardly a surprise that you relate so well with Benbow-kun, even if his mother is a whole new level of horrible in comparison to Mother and Father. With effort, I shook the thought away. They might have been nice, but I was sure it couldn't last. After all, I was famous, I had a name to uphold, I was sure they'd expect better of me anyway. So I gave my best smile, fixed my hair and airily declared:

"Oh, it is all part of the job, I manage it well enough. Besides, the supportive fans make it all worth it."

Miya nodded thoughtfully at this and then said:.

"I hope that you have someone to help you though, if it gets too much."

"Ah, no need to worry, my agent is incredibly capable. I am too, naturally. But really, Miya-san, though I am flattered at your concern it is wholly unnecessary."

Rieka snorted at this, but was then directed by Miya to take plates and bowls over to the table with Ronan, while the three of us cleared up the worst, and then went to sit down. And as we gave thanks for the food, and started to eat, I started to think that even if Rieka was supposed to be my worst enemy, that this stay might just turn out alright after all.