"I'll pay you to let me stay home."
"Oh?" Shinobu glanced down at her grumpy nine-year-old who was clutching her frog-shaped pillow like a lifesaver as the pair walked through the train station. Moriko's long wavy black hair was tied back in a braid that brushed her midback. "How much?"
"I'm willing to enter negotiations," Moriko said, lifting her chin, blue eyes determined. "You set the initial price, and then I'll make a counteroffer."
"Well, let's start with the price of four weeks of summer camp." She gave her daughter the amount and enjoyed the way her right eyebrow twitched.
"I can…what about a payment plan? Or I can get a loan." Moriko hugged her pillow tighter. "I bet Mitsuri and Obanai would give it to me. They don't want me to leave."
Sighing, Shinobu turned around, leaning Moriko's suitcase up right from where she had been pulling it behind her. For a moment, the two of them stared at each other, stubbornness warring against indomitable willpower. Shinobu brushed her hand over Moriko's hair, bringing her braid forward. She tightened the mint green butterfly bow that held the end of the braid. "You're going to have a wonderful time. You love nature." Gently, she took the pillow and strapped it to the top of the rolling suitcase.
"I like nature." Moriko blinked. "I hate mandatory fun and compulsory bonding."
"I'm taking that thesaurus of yours away," Shinobu said in a cheerful sing-song, though her smile was a tad forced. Moriko was so intelligent, sometimes to the point of being a smart aleck. Putting her hand on her shoulder, she steered her toward the stairs, winding them around other travelers. "You were excited about camp a few months ago."
"That's before I found out we were staying in cabins," Moriko said, "And that there are going to be campwide challenges. Like a reality TV show." She sighed, glancing back over her shoulder, expression borderline pitiful. "It's embarrassing."
"It'll be exciting," Shinobu countered "You might find it less painful than you expect."
"Only if they let me sit out when I want to."
Honestly, if Shinobu really thought that Moriko was going to be miserable the whole time, she would cancel the trip for her, but she hoped that she would actually enjoy the experience. It might even give her the chance to make some new friends. Moriko had a way of saying exactly what she was thinking and often other children didn't know what to make of her.
Who knew where she got that from…
"Look, I'll make this deal with you," Shinobu said as they walked, "Try it out for two weeks. If you absolutely can't stand it, call home and I'll come get you or someone else will."
"Uncle Sanemi would come get me the first day."
"Do not complain to your uncle," Shinobu said, rolling her eyes. "The camp wouldn't know what to do if he showed up in a bad mood." The instant Moriko said one thing about hating camp, Sanemi would go "rescue" her. For being so ferocious in other parts of his life, he was a softie when it came to his niece and his own kids.
Moriko put her hand in Shinobu's in a rare display of vulnerability. "You promise I could come home after two weeks?"
Shinobu squeezed her fingers. "I promise."
"Are you going to miss me?"
That brought her up short. She stopped so fast that Moriko was jerked slightly backward from where Shinobu had suddenly tightened her grip. Pulling her daughter to her, she hugged her tight. Moriko hesitated and then hugged her back. Her daughter wasn't the affectionate type, but she could survive a hug now and then.
"Of course I'll miss you," Shinobu said, snuggling her. "Why would you ever ask a question like that?"
"Mom, you're squishing me."
"With love," Shinobu said, finally letting her go. "I'll miss you every second of every day." Missing Moriko could settle right next to the other two aches in her heart, the ones she had thought might soften with time but never had. At least Moriko would come back. Shinobu shoved those thoughts down again, packing them away and trying to lock the door.
"I'll miss you, too," Moriko said, "I'll write you letters on my hedgehog stationary. And I'll write letters to the cats."
Shinobu tried not to feel some kind of way about being on the same level of letter writing importance as the denizens of Mitsuri's cat café. She supposed she would have to live with it. "I'm looking forward to them already. Come on, we don't want to be late."
They hurried the rest of the way to the platform, reaching it only a few minutes before the train was scheduled to arrive. Shinobu checked Moriko's ticket and handed it back to her. "The attendants will look after you, and there'll be other kids from camp on the train, I think."
"I'll look for other kids in this hideous shirt," Moriko said. She picked at the hem of the bright yellow t-shirt with the Camp Fujikasane wisteria logo on it.
"Yes, do that," Shinobu said. "Once you reach the train stop in Natagumo, someone will be there to take you to camp. And if they're not, you'll call me immediately."
"I might call you anyways," Moriko said, looking down the track. "It'll be my last phone call before the no calls on weekdays rule. Like going to jail."
Shinobu was torn between laughing and running her hands over her face. Instead she put her hand on Moriko's cheek. "I love you, my precious little encyclopedia. And I'm going to hug you again, fair warning."
"Moooom," Moriko complained, but she accepted the final hug. Shinobu's heart twinged when she started to let go and Moriko clung to her for another second. "I'll try to like it. A little bit."
"I hope you do," Shinobu said. She squashed her one last time as the train rolled into the station, making Moriko fuss, then she helped hand her suitcase to the attendant. As she stepped onto the train, Moriko turned and tried to smile. It turned into a grimace. Shinobu waved until she trudged into the train car.
Well. Hopefully Moriko managed something that looked friendlier once she arrived…
"There're some premade meals in the freezer, and if you get really hungry and don't want to cook, Grandpa will feed you or you can eat at the bakery—"
"You've been to this same camp for the past two years. I've survived each time."
"Yeah, but still!"
Giyuu picked up Akemi's duffle bag from the back of the SUV and slung it over his shoulder. All around them, kids were running, laughing, chattering, and getting ready to get on the bus that went up to the camp. Adults were giving out last-minute instructions to their children, but in his case, his nine-year-old daughter was the one giving the instructions.
"Don't forget to feed Kanzaburo, too," Akemi said as she popped up underneath his arm. "He likes his food heated up a bit, and you have to mash it."
"I know. I'll feed the cat," he said, glancing down at her. She was small and wispy for her age, with wavy black hair that went a few inches past her shoulders. There were two new bright streaks of color amid the black, one pink, one neon purple, that Tengen had helped her add. Out of spite, Giyuu assumed.
"And the trash guy comes on Tuesdays."
"Akemi, this may come as a surprise, but I do know a few things."
She gave him a bright smile and started to climb up into the back of the SUV, apparently intent on getting her backpack herself. "A few!"
Sighing, he picked her up and pulled her back out of the car, setting her on the ground. He reached over her and grabbed up her backpack, looping it over his other shoulder.
"I can carry it," she protested, tugging on the strap as he ignored her. The backpack and her duffle bag were covered in patches and pins, many given to her by aunts and uncles and family friends. "Dad!"
"Akemi." Her persistent, independent and caring nature always reminded him of a certain someone. He put his hand on her back and gave her a gentle push toward the bus. She skipped forward, waited for him, and then grabbed his hand to pull him along. Giyuu walked slowly, an anchor to her energetic tugging.
He wished he didn't have to let her go, but she loved the camp. He supposed it was Tanjiro's fault, he was the one who had found the brochure for the camp and shown it to Akemi, who had immediately been on board with the idea. This was her third year, and he dreaded the month without her. However, he wasn't going to hold her back, not when she wanted to go.
Her hand slipped from his. "Oh, there's Haruhi and Daisuke!" She waved enthusiastically at a dark-haired boy and a girl in a pair of hiking boots. "I'm going to go say hi, Dad, I'll be right back."
She raced off, sneakers kicking up dust. Giyuu moved a little closer to the bus but not to the point where anyone would talk to him, hopefully. Sliding the bags off his shoulders, he set them in a pile. He watched Akemi hug the other girl and fist bump the boy, all of them talking at once and gesturing often to the bus.
Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved his phone, checking his messages as he waited for her. One was from his literary agent begging for an update on his latest novel, another was from a historian working on a new Taishō era movie, and the rest were from the family group chat.
Sabito: Giyuu. did you abandon our girl to strangers yet? Did you give her the hunting knife I left?
Makomo: Remind her to take pictures!
Nezuko: and to write letters! And tell her I'm going to miiiiisss heeer.
Makomo: When are we sending the first care package?
Tanjiro: I might have already started making one. 😅
Sabito: of COURSE you did
Urokodaki: Everyone, get back to work. Giyuu, tell Akemi that we expect phone calls on the weekend.
Giyuu: No. NO. I will. I will x 2. It'll be all right, Nezuko. Soon. Okay. Agreed. Yes sir.
Makomo: 😐 For a split second, I thought you were saying no to Urokodaki.
Tanjiro: Ahhh me too
Nezuko: 😱
Sabito: i understood everything he said
Giyuu put his phone back in his pocket as Akemi dashed back over to him, a bright smile on her face. "We're all going to go canoeing together tomorrow during free time, and Haruhi and I might be in the same cabin. Wouldn't that be cool?"
Giyuu nodded. "Very."
Akemi tugged on his shirt sleeve. "I should go get on the bus." She spun toward the bus and then back toward him, a little frown on her face. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"
"Don't worry about me," he said, reaching out and putting a hand on her head. He smoothed her hair back. Letting her go made him ache. "I have reminders for you. Urokodaki says to call everyone on the weekend. I assume he means close family, not literally everyone."
"I'll call everybody," she said with a grin.
"Hmm." That grin was worrisome. "Makomo said to take pictures, and Nezuko wants letters and for you to know she'll miss you."
Akemi's eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Tell her I'll miss her, too." She darted forward and wrapped her arms around Giyuu's waist, burying her face in his shirt. "I'll miss everyone, especially you, Dad."
Giyuu hugged her back tight and then bent down to kiss her forehead. He wiped a stray tear off her cheek as he leaned back. "I'll miss you, too, troublemaker."
Akemi smiled, brushing the heel of her hand across her eyes. "I bet!" She laughed and shook her head, banishing her tears. "Can I have my backpack now?"
He handed her the backpack while he grabbed the duffle bag. He checked her in with one of the camp counselors, a stressed-out man named Murata who looked antagonized by the children. He passing him Akemi's duffle bag to go on top of the bus.
"All right, I'm going to go now," Akemi said, hands on her hips, stepping backward toward the bus. "I'll write you a letter when I get there!"
"Be careful," Giyuu said, pinning her with a serious look. "Be mindful in the woods, don't touch strange plants, listen to the counselors—"
"Yep, yep, yep!" she said, beaming, "I won't eat any weird berries or swim without a buddy or get too close to any bears."
Giyuu tilted his head, gaze narrowing. "Don't get close to bears at all—"
"Bye, Dad!" She blew him a kiss with both hands, whipped around, and ran onto the bus.
He watched her find a seat beside the Haruhi girl near the front of the bus. He glanced at Murata, who was still taking bags and suitcases. "Don't let anything bad happen to her."
Murata blanched. "Um…"
Giyuu left, but he sat in the car and waited until the bus drove out of the parking lot to head home to Sagiri, the city where he and Akemi lived. He sighed. It was going to be a very long, quiet four weeks.