Chapter 10 — As the Dust Clears

Heavy clatters accompanied the slow roll of the mechanism overhead. With every heave and lift of the door, stray bits of sunlight seeped through the widening gaps and onto the old front. A large, rectangular window revealed ahead of them, covered from the inside with dull brown rosin paper stretched to all four corners. Once past the unlocked door, the first to greet its long-awaited visitors was the suffocating taste of dust and stale air.

"Are you two alright?" the young voice called after them. "Dad? Big Brother?"

"It's… fine—" Isanari loudly coughed, pulling the collar of his shirt over his mouth. "Don't step in yet, Raiha-chan. It's dusty in here. Whew, we really need to air this place out. Fuutarou, can you get something to prop open the door?"

Fuutarou attempted a reply, but could only muster an abrupt hack followed with a nod. He stepped into the dimly-lit room, taking one long look. Chairs covered with dull tablecloth were propped above the square tables, forgetful of the lively din of company. Empty shelves bordered the nearby and opposite walls, starved of the pleasant scents that once adorned its space. Cobwebs spun at the corners. The far reaches of the counter had become speckled with layers of dust, and the daydreaming boy could only remember that young, naive child that sat at the corner nearest to the wall, watching the backs of his parents as they traversed the hustle and bustle of the once lively bakery.

Drab, dusty and dishearteningly lonesome.

"Did you get something, Fuutarou?" Isanari said after him. "What's taking you?"

"Sorry! Hold on, I got something." He plucked one of the nearby chairs from the tables.

"Good, good…" Isanari nodded. With slow steps, the tall man paced the interior, drawing long gazes to the familiar sights, all the while carrying a wide grin on his face. "Alright, you two! Raiha-chan, Fuutarou, it's just about time for our routine maintenance. I'll take care of the things in the back."

"I'll check the kitchen," replied Fuutarou. "You have the keys, Dad?"

"Yeah, right over here."

"What should I do?" Raiha asked, eagerly stepping forward. "I can help!"

"You can stand right over here," Isanari said. "Flick the light switch on when I call out to you, and make sure it stays off when I tell you to. We need to make sure everything is okay with the circuit panel."

The wide-eyed girl attentively nodded. "Got it!"

Every year, the three members of the Uesugi household found themselves reacquainted with the old family bakery. Uesugi Bakery. A simple yet humble name, befitting of its humble owners. Together, they would undergo routinely maintenance surrounding the basic functionalities that operated the everyday store. They would need to ensure that the water pipes and drainage were correctly operational. They needed to confirm that the electricity was still functional across all appliances and fixtures. A careful eye had to be kept out for any signs of possible infestation that may have occurred during its long gaps of negligence.

And of course—for the sake of the woman whose dreams laid founded within these four walls—a bit of tidying up here and there.

Though it would be a long while before this humble bakery would once again open its doors, neither of them could hardly fathom a time where they would miss out on this special occasion. As busy as their lives could be, nothing took higher precedence—not even for the hectic schedule that made for a university student's life. Fuutarou's second semester had already started a few months ago, marking today as somewhere in the middle of the academic semester. A little over eight months since he had first set off for university.

"Water in the kitchen is okay!" Fuutarou called back. Creaky and partly rusted valves turned shut with the twist of his wrist.

"Great!" Isanari's loud voice echoed from the back room. "Raiha and I are done with this room. Raiha-chan, go see if Fuutarou needs help cleaning out the kitchen."

"Okay!" The sight of her tall, plume-like hair was the first thing Fuutarou saw as the young girl circled the tall counter and into the kitchen. "Hey, Big Bro! Dad told me to—"

"I heard." Fuutarou handed his little sister a disposable face mask. He was outfitted in a white apron with a floral design over his day clothes, with white cloth bandanna holding over his hair. "Here. Dust flies everywhere once we open the windows to air the place out. I can mop the floors, so do you think you can take those rags and spray bottle over there and clean the counter? Wait, what are you laughing at?"

"Nothing." His little sister giggled. "It's just that you look like a real housewife right now. It's a good look on you, Big Bro."

"Funny." Fuutarou rolled his eyes as he slipped on some rubber gloves. He dipped his mop into the cleaning bucket and moved on to cleaning the kitchen. "How is second year of middle school going for you, Raiha? You having fun?"

Raiha nodded. "It's a lot of fun! I've already made a lot of new friends, and my homeroom teacher says she remembers you."

"Homeroom teacher?" Futuarou pulled down his mask, showing the twist of his lips as he thought. "Second year… oh, would that be Kamiya-sensei? That takes me back a bit. I'm surprised she still remembers me."

"Of course she does. Kamiya-sensei told me she couldn't forget having a student like you in her class. She told me a bunch of things about you."

"Somehow, I don't think I like the sound of that…"

Raiha did not take the hint. "Like how you did not talk much except when asking and answering questions, that you were always by yourself during lunch, and that you were always getting perfect scores on your assignments. She said she never had a student like you before. No one had ever gone a whole year without getting a single question wrong…"

Fuutarou remembered, alright. It should have been a little over six years ago. First year of middle school—the following year of his self-proclaimed, life-changing encounter with a girl his age in Kyoto. One of the Nakano quintuplets, which he would come to realize five years later. Thinking about it again only reminded him just how impossible it all seemed. It was all the start of that apparent transformation of his life, which he had always assumed to be for the better—something that would stick with him for the next five years. Where life became about studying and studying more, until once again, that meddlesome disaster came back into his life. Except this time, it had come back five-fold.

"…and she thought I was going to be like you," Raiha continued, sounding a little more frustrated as she went on. "I mean, I thought getting a 91 on my first exam wasn't that bad! Why does it feel like I disappointed her or something? And middle school work is a whole lot tougher!"

"It only gets harder. You have to make sure you stay on top of it if you want to get into a good high school."

"Yeah, yeah, I know…"

The two siblings continued through the kitchen. Clouds of dust scattered at the first breath of fresh air. Layers of dust and grime vanished under the swipe of an old tablecloth, leaving behind a dull reflection of its satisfied cleaner. Every corner of the room would eventually glisten in residue of the gliding mop. All the while, the Uesugi siblings exchanged some overdue bonding time between them. After all, Raiha was well into her life as a middle school student now, and like every youth at that age, had no shortage of words concerning every minor detail. Before they knew it, a little over an hour had already passed.

Brushing the sweat off his brow, Fuutarou stood proudly with his mop propped against the wall. "There! Nice and spotless."

"We did a good job!" Raiha widely grinned. "That should be the last of it, right?"

"Mm… almost, but not quite." Fuutarou returned to the main kitchen table, where folded tablecloth was placed underneath various pieces of tools and appliances. Some things that he had left out earlier to air dry. "We still need to put some of these back in their drawers and racks. Give me a hand, will you?"

The young girl nodded, though, it did not take long until Raiha stopped herself. Her finger scratched the sides of her head and her brow scrunched.

"Something the matter?" Fuutarou asked.

"I'm not so sure where most of this stuff goes…" Raiha lifted a plastic component to something completely unknown to her. "What is this thing?"

She watched as her older brother took the part to a nearby device. "That's a dough hook. It goes into the stand mixer here."

"Stand… mixer? What does that do? Is it like a regular mixer?"

"Sort of. It's used when making bread. Stand mixers are used more for stuff like… well, actually, let me explain the difference between…" Without any real invitation, Fuutarou began a thorough rundown of the details and work flow of a professional kitchen. Every distinctive appliance and tool was accompanied with a brief explanation to attentive eyes and ears.

"You sure do know your stuff, huh, Big Bro?" Raiha said after a few rounds of explanation. "Now that I think about it, you must really love baking, huh? Even in college, you keep working part time at bakeries."

"He sure does!" Rounding the corner, Isanari had entered the room after having finished general maintenance of the old bakery. Smears of blackened oil, dirt, and a brushed cobweb stained his shirt, as the tall man grabbed a clean rag. "You should have seen him when he was a kid. He absolutely loved it here."

Fuutarou waved his hand. "That was a long time ago. I'm just sticking to what I know."

"And you sure know it, alright!" Isanari continued, then looked to Raiha. "He knew it well. Fuutarou would always bother me and your mom, asking if he was old enough yet to work in the bakery. Even said it was his life's dream."

"Really?" Raiha turned an attentive ear to their chatty father while simultaneously keeping an imaginative look at her older brother. The curious, yet hardly convinced, look on her face was one that Fuutarou was more than familiar with. It was always when their father had something to say about him in his youth, and Fuutarou's intuition of that was never wrong. "You loved it that much, Big Bro? Is that why you keep working in bakeries?"

"Like I said, it was a long time ago," her older brother replied. "I was too young to work, so I just watched. Mom was the one who taught me the basics of baking bread. She said that it would be good to know when I…" Fuutarou looked down to his own grayed reflection off the old baking sheet in his hands. The years had already come and gone for that naive boy that quietly watched the backs of his parents from his own special seat in the corner. What parts of him now carried those same ambitions that young child had, and what parts of it were held in that delicate cradle they called nostalgia? And exactly what was it about standing in this vacant shell of a bakery that brought this distant feeling of melancholy in his heart.

The words had slipped past his mouth before he even realized it. "When I… would finally be old enough to work here. With Mom and Dad."

Raiha looked solemnly to her older brother.

The boastful smile on Isanari's face slightly clasped as he looked to his eldest son. He folded his arms over his chest, leaning his back against the counter top. As many times as he would like to bring back old memories, there would always be a sense of longing left behind. His eyes drew over the room and he let out a long, tired sigh. "That reminds me… I should really get around to returning that call from the creditors. Wouldn't want them to keep interrupting us during dinner…"

Fuutarou clicked his teeth, his brow forming to a scowl. "Them again? Can't they just piss off for once? It's not even the start of next month yet."

"Now, now…" Raiha lowered a hand in an attempt to calm down her brother. "It's—"

"They just keep getting pushier and pushier." Isanari sighed. "It can't be helped. This street has gotten a lot more popular commercially in the past years. Once companies found out that this place has been vacant for over a decade now, they'd do about anything to get their greedy hands on it. Even had some suits approach me the other day, offering a huge sum of money for our lease"

"Crooks. All of them." Fuutarou rolled his eyes. "You're not seriously thinking of—"

"Like hell I would. What kind of question is that?" Isanari puffed out his chest. "I promised your mother that I'd keep the place in tip-top shape. What good of a husband would I be if I start neglecting things?" Isanari squinted upward. "Oh? Is that light over there flickering a little? Guess I'll need to replace that too…"

"Yeah…" Fuutarou slowly nodded. "Guess I could spend a little more time tidying up too…"

Raiha attempted to squeeze into their conversation. "Uhm… I can help if… I mean…"

A moment of silence fell over the family bakery. Trapped between the first syllables of a different topic and the hesitance of the idea, neither of the two contemplative men could find another word fitting for where they stood. Instead, they continued to stay where they were, letting nostalgia overtake them.

"Ah, I've had enough!" Raiha, who had stood quietly, had suddenly tugged against the fabrics of their shirt had snapped them out of their somber daydreaming. They looked down, bewildered to find Raiha holding onto them tightly, as if trying to pull them together. "It's like this every year we come here. I can tell; it must really hurt to remember. And whenever you two talk about Mom like this…. I start to feel sad too…"

The young girl struggled to find the right words. Her cheeks puffed the more frustrated she grew with herself, until finally giving in and muttering whatever was on her mind. "But that's only because I feel… sorry for you two. I… I never knew Mom. Not like how you two knew her… I knew she was really nice and pretty. That she really loved this bakery, and… and that's the reason why we always come back here. And… that I…"

"Raiha…" said Fuutarou, unsure of what words he could say to his younger sister.

"Agh! I don't even know what I'm saying anymore!" Raiha tightened both of her fists, knocking one against the side of her head . "It's just… I… I don't even know why I feel this upset… I feel bad that I can't be sad like you two. I feel weird that I need to find a reason to be sad and… and that's weird! Am I just a bad daughter to Mom? I don't get it!"

"No, what you said makes perfect sense, Raiha." Isanari let out another long sigh. He stepped beside her, placing one hand around her shoulder. "Forgive me. You must really have felt left out, huh? We've just dragged you along with us, and you've had to put up with us moping around like a bunch of sad sacks."

"No, I don't mean it like that," said Raiha. "It's not like I don't feel anything. I love coming here, it's just… this place. I feel like it should be a happy memory, shouldn't it?" She looked to the high cupboards, to the tall racks of hung kitchenware. "When we're here, when we talk about Mom… I may have never ever spoke to her, but I feel like Mom would have wanted this to be someplace happy."

There was another short silence. The slow turn of Raiha's gaze fell across the room, ending to where her brother stood. "Am I wrong?" she asked.

"You're… not…" Fuutarou scratched the back of his head. The more he shied away from the attentive gaze of his younger sibling, the more that distant feeling crept closer to him. Feelings that made for the uneasiness in his heart the more he stood within these four walls. Feelings of guilt that he was reminded of the more he watched his family bleed with every swiped bill and coin from their pockets. He wanted this place to be a happy memory—he truly did. "I just… don't know if Mom would have been happy to see us like this."

The look on Raiha's face dropped.

"Seeing us live in that tiny apartment. Hearing us being harassed by debt collectors. It makes me think…" He leaned back against the counter top. "It makes me think that Mom would have felt guilty. That maybe… she would have wanted us to forget her and move on."

"Mom… wouldn't think like that, right?" Raiha said. "She wouldn't have wanted that, right"

"I never said that was what I wanted, either." Fuutarou shook his head. "I want to study. I want to work hard, get a good a job, and work so that I can finally get rid of this stupid debt. I'm sick and tired of it." He tightly clenched his fist. "And maybe if I do, then it wouldn't feel so bad coming back here all the time. It wouldn't feel like I'm… disappointing her for taking so long."

"Fuutarou." Isanari stepped forward. The sharp look in his eyes—the same look that Fuutarou had always brushed off whenever he looked at his own reflection. "I knew your mother since high school. We started dating when we were third years. I watched that woman for years as she built this place up from nothing. It was her dream. Is that really the kind of woman you think she is?"

"I…" Fuutarou bit his tongue. "I don't mean to think poorly of her, I only mean that—"

"Well, I know for a fact that you are absolutely right," Isanari bluntly interrupted. Both of his children turned to him with widened looks. "You could not be any more spot-on. Your mother was kind, gentle, and caring—but she was also apologetic, sometimes a little hesitant, and a little too considerate. Whenever the two of us got into arguments, she was always the one who apologized first, even when it was my fault. She would blame herself for everything, and she..." He placed a hand over the counter-top, letting his rough fingers slowly trace the surface. "She would have wanted us to give up this place a long time ago."

Fuutarou and Raiha exchanged a look to one another. There was nothing they could say after after something like that

"But let me tell you something!" With his chest puffed out and a thumb pressed against his sternum, the blond-haired man proudly proclaimed, "that woman you call your mother—she married me! She knew I was stubborn the moment I had to ask her out four different times until she said finally said—'yes.'"

He happily chuckled to himself. "And when I told her I loved her, the first thing she said was 'why me?' She still couldn't accept after so long that she could be happy, so she needed an idiot like me to keep reminding her. That's why—whenever I am here and whenever I think about your mother—I will always keep my promise to her. I don't doubt for a second that she was truly happy up to the moments she left this world."

He placed one hand over the top of each of his children's heads, ruffling them. "…And how happy she was when she was with all of us." He looked down by his right hand. "Especially you, Raiha."

"Me?" Raiha looked past the now disheveled strands of hair over her face.

Isanari nodded. "You already know. When your mother fell sick, it was shortly after she had you. Without her, this bakery would not have stood a chance—I mean, look at me! Your old man couldn't bake bread if it were to save his life. But… even when she wasn't doing well, even when we had to close this shop down, your mother looked as happy as the day I fell in love with her."

He chuckled to himself again, then looked down to Raiha. "Because she managed to bring you into the world, Raiha. This bakery wasn't your mother's only dream. When you were very, very little, she would hold you in her arms and tell you to grow up to be a loving, smart, and strong woman. You know, you were a lot like her just now. Like the times when she got upset with Fuutarou, she had that habit of mumbling to herself while she scolded him."

Raiha sniffled. "She… did?"

"Of course! Why, even Fuutarou had that exact same look when you were scolding him."

"Don't pretend like Mom didn't scold you too, Dad," Fuutarou quickly corrected. "I might have been really young, but I still remember. In fact, I'm sure you were the one she scolded the most."

"I have no clue what you're talking about." Isanari loudly laughed, and just like how they were used to, their father's endless optimism was both overbearing and contagious.

Warmth of precious moments past, present, and future filled this small space. For the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, the Uesugi family would enjoy nothing more than the company of one another. With the eldest son now being farther away, times like these were few and far between. Fuutarou shared stories—which sounded more like updates—of his second semester at university. Isanari spoke of yet another odd job he was bouncing between and the developments around their home now that Fuutarou was no longer taking space. Raiha had yet to exhaust tales of her adventures as a middle school student, detailing everything from the new friends she had made and the other teachers who praised her diligent study habits.

"I'm surprised with you Raiha," Fuutarou commented as they readied to close the bakery once again. "I didn't think about it until Dad mentioned it, but you really do seem a lot more grown up."

"You really think so? Well… actually, I've been watching a lot of Ichika-nee-san's movies." Raiha covered her mouth with a palm clasped over a closed fist. "She's… so cool. I want to be as cool and mature of a woman as she is when I'm older, too."

Fuutarou looked to his younger sister. He had the vague assumption before when they had first met, but that look in Raiha's eyes was that of genuine admiration. He had heard from Itsuki that the rest of the Nakano quintuplets would often talk on the phone with his younger sister. Itsuki had said they did not want Raiha to feel lonely, knowing that her brother was not around as often, and with Isanari's wholehearted approval, had even let them take Raiha out with them from time to time.

Between the Nakano quintuplets, Raiha seemed to try her best not to display any obvious favorites. Of course, Itsuki was always the first point of contact—much to the youngest Nakano's delight—whenever the middle schooler needed the company of her five older sister figures, and none of them seemed to connect with her as well as the fifth sister. Yotsuba was the one who actively turned every conversation into an outing, never leaving Raiha in her house whenever the fourth sister could help it. Both Nino and Ichika seemed to take the older sister role a little too literally, forming a keen interest in her academic affairs and school life, with bits of wisdom from Nino on how to stay trendy and fashionable, with a few secret hints about boys if Isanari was not within earshot. And Miku was a counterbalance to the chaos, offering the leisurely pleasure of games and books in between the four other busy-bodies.

Though with Ichika, things were a little different with their relationship. A sister, who at times was a little unavailable, but hardly distant. Like the day the eldest sister and the young girl had formally met, Ichika had left a strong impression on Raiha. A kind of connection the middle schooler had never quite known, attached to her childish innocence.

That being, a reliable, female presence to place all of her admirations upon. A woman who worked tirelessly against the odds in pursuit of her dreams. An older sister that could always pick apart the troubles in her mind. And a loving girlfriend who kept that mean-spirited brother of hers humble. That was Nakano Ichika.

"You've been watching some of Ichika's movies?" Fuutarou asked. "Some of them can get pretty violent, you know. And scary. I thought you weren't a fan of that kind of stuff?"

"I actually started to take an interest recently." Raiha turned away a smug expression. "Shows just how much you really know about me, Big Bro. Consider this your punishment for leaving your own little sister all by herself while you go off to Tokyo. Hmph."

His expression flattened. "Hold on a minute. I'm starting to feel like I've done something wrong for no reason. Is this some kind of rebellious stage?"

Again, Raiha turned away. "Hmph."

Before Fuutarou could ask her another question, Isanari had turned their way. "Oi, Fuutarou. Speaking of your girlfriend, that old Maruo gave me a call a while back. It had just slipped my mind."

Hearing the name had made Fuutarou stiffen his posture, as if the cold, almost lifeless visage had already set its gaze upon him. "Nakano-san…? He… he called you?"

"Hm?" Raiha poked her head back into the conversation. "The quintuplets' father? He wants to talk to Big Bro?"

"Yeah." Isanari nonchalantly continued to pack their belongings. "He told me to let him know the next time you were back at Tokai. Says he thought the two of you should have another talk, or something?"

Between those long hours of lectures, books, and exams, simple pleasures like long weekends to visit back home were few and far between. A moment to catch one's breath, to indulge in the company of friends and family, without the threat of assignments and looming exams—so long as one was diligent enough. Stress-relieving. Carefree.

All gone at the drop of a sentence.

Light fatigue had imposed the past twenty-four hours of Fuutarou's agenda. From the toss and turns he had exhausted on his futon the night before, and to the absentmindedness that turned his breakfast cold, nothing could shake this dreadful feeling lurking in his stomach. Exactly what was it that the Nakano quintuplets' father wanted to talk to him about? And why would a busy man such as Nakano Maruo set aside his precious time to meet personally with him?

The more Fuutarou thought about it, the more his imagination appeared more creative than he had ever thought it to be. At the very least, some place familiar did bits to calm his nervous mind.

"Oh, well, well. There's a familiar face." A slim man with light brown hair, which he loosely tied in a low ponytail, had finished propping up a sign outside the store. He wore a white kitchen coat with its sleeves rolled up past his elbows. The look in his eyes did not quite fully match his smile, carrying a similarly tired gaze with tiny bags under his eyes. "Heard from Nakano-san that you'd be paying a visit today. How's college life, Tokyo Boy?"

Fuutarou waved back. "Good to see you again, boss. And things are going well in Tokyo, thanks for asking."

"You're not my employee anymore, Uesugi-kun. Please, call me Ohta or manager—whichever you'd like." Revival's manager stood up, brushing the dirt off his kitchen coat. He noticed a similarly tired expression on Fuutarou's face, despite it being quite early in the day. "You're looking… well."

"I'll admit I've been better." He dryly chuckled. His eyes made their way across his old workplace's storefront. Same as he had remembered, albeit with a few touch-ups and alterations here and there. The pastry shop sported a much brighter coat of paint, and its exterior extended to a fenced outdoor seating area with tables situated underneath hosted umbrellas. Pastries had been moved to display closer to a now-wider glass pane, easily catching the eye of any person passing by. "The place is looking pretty good. You get work done on it?"

"So you've noticed." Ohta gave an approving wink. "I had a bit of work done during my hospitalization. Nakano-san has quite an eye for decor. She helped pick out some of the arrangements you see here."

"Oh? Nino did?"

The pastry chef nodded confidently. "Doesn't look half bad, right? The abundance of new customers surely think so! Nakano-san is just on inside, in case you were wondering."

"Great, thanks." He waved back to him as he stepped inside. "Nice catching up with you, bos—Ohta-san. Good to see the place is doing well."

Inside, the walls and furniture of his old workplace were just like how he remembered. Booth tables hugged the walls and square tables lined in columns, reformed to the warm colors of beige, brown, and dark brown. Opened space invited the pleasant aroma of sweet and savory pastries, drawing the eye to the clear case displays of goods. As Ohta had not-so-humbly mentioned, the inside was quite lively with customers and employees going about. Some familiar faces recognized him, exchanging a formal greeting.

And seated at a nearby table was a familiar butterfly-shaped ribbon, tied to a neat ponytail.

"Oh, Fuutarou!" the quintuplet warmly smiled. "Good morning."

"Morning, Nino." Fuutarou returned a smile. "Things have gotten pretty busy here, huh?"

To his surprise, the quintuplet did not react. He had not noticed how abruptly the smile on her face twisted to a pout; the brows over her eyes scrunching to a scowl as the girl looked away.

"Huh? Did I say something wrong—"

He was interrupted with a light tap against the back of his head. The scolding side of a clean baking sheet, held at the hand of a completely identical girl—right down to the single butterfly ribbon tied to reddish-pink hair.

"Honestly…" Nino turned an eye to him, crossing one arm over her chest. "You wouldn't think twice if we chopped off some hair and called ourselves Ichika, would you? It's been how long already and you still can't tell us apart?"

"Ni… Nino?" Only now did Fuutarou notice the two slightly different uniforms, one belonging to Komugiya, the rival bakery across the street. "Wait, then… that would mean that this is you, Miku?"

Miku sarcastically shrugged. "Looks like college can't teach you everything. Yeah, it's me. Good morning again, Fuutarou." The third daughter tugged the butterfly ribbon over her head. "Dropped my hair tie in a puddle this morning, so Nino let me borrow one of her ribbons. Thanks again, Nino."

"Don't mention it."

"You girls can't blame me for mixing you up this time," said Fuutarou with a sigh. "Especially if you're going around wearing each other's accessories."

"And? You think you could keep using that as an excuse? Papa and Grandpa don't seem to have a problem."

"That's… different."

Miku giggled. "Hmm? Different how? I thought our Grandpa taught you the answer over a year ago, or have you already forgotten?"

"…if this keeps up," continued Nino, "you'll end up proposing to the wrong quint, and none of us will feel sorry for you, Fuu-kun."

"Yeah, yeah…" Fuutarou massaged the back of his neck. When it came to these girls, it was impossible for them not to be a pain. The tired look on his face said more than enough, and their old tutor let out another sigh. "That's my bad, I guess. I'll be more careful next time."

"We're only teasing, Fuutarou."

"By the way, what are you even doing here, Miku? You work at the bakery across the street. Knowing how both the managers are, I'm sure Ohta-san would have a fit about your manager sending in a spy or something."

Miku only laughed in response.

"She's here for this. Here." Nino handed her sister the square baking sheet. "Boss says to tell Mihara-san thanks for all of the help. Oh, and that he hopes it wasn't on too short of a notice."

"It was no problem. Likewise, Mihara-san says not to hesitate if there's anything else Ohta-san needs."

"The two of them really should just talk these out themselves, don't you think? Why do they have to keep sending us all the time? It's right across the street."

Noticing the perplexed look above Fuutarou's brow had hardly budged since he had walked into the store, the two Nakano sisters took the time to detail the recent developments between their workplaces. As it so happened, tension between the two bakeries had curiously dissolved over the past year. None of the workers were exactly sure when, but it had to have been some point after the reopening of Revival. Some of the more gossipy workers would argue that it was a little further—during Ohta's long hospitalization following his motorcycle accident.

Details were a little fuzzy, and workers from both stores never had the exact same details, but one thing that could have been agreed upon was that the two bakery owners hardly seemed to be at each other's throats anymore. Perhaps it was because Mihara, Komugiya's owner and manager, guiltily admitted to causing the accident, but Ohta looked as if that incident had never happened. Rather than the bitter bouts between flour and fire, Ohta and Mihara almost as if they purposely avoided stepping on each other's toes. Revival had adopted a menu focusing more on its cakes, pies, cornets, sandwiches, and coffee drinks, all with a more defined western inspiration. Likewise, Komugiya stuck to an array of local favorites, emphasizing more to their cookies, croissants, donuts, and cream buns. Not a single overlap, as if agreed upon privately.

"So that's what has been going on between them?" Fuutarou appeared a lot more surprised than Nino and Miku were when they had first heard it. "I had no idea they would end up that close. Interesting…"

"We saw them coming to the festival together in our third year…" Nino reminded him. "Did you seriously not notice?"

"Of course Fuutarou would be the one who had no idea." Miku gave a halfhearted chuckle. "That aside, you are here pretty early. From what you told us, you were supposed to meet with our father a little past noon, right?"

Just for a while longer, Fuutarou wished he could have enjoyed the blissful ignorance. Some respite over the needlessly anxious feelings, if only to delay the inevitable. "Oh yeah…" he could only muster, turning his gaze left and right. "That's uhm… that's right…"

"You okay there?" Nino nudged the side of his head with one finger, watching this stiff figure she used to call her tutor jolt at the first touch. "Whoa, you're really tense. What's got you so worked up?"

"Worked up? Have you met your father? I'm one more bad impression—on top of so many others—from him killing me solely by looking at me. Especially after the last time we met; of course I'm nervous!"

Nino and Miku exchanged a raised brow to the other. "You don't think dad is scary, do you, Nino?"

"Me? Of course not. Papa is really nice and sweet all the time. Isn't that right, Miku?"

The third quintuplet nodded her head in agreement, and Fuutarou answered back with own befuddled look. "We… are talking about the same person here, right? Nakano Maruo?"

They returned a factual "yeah" in unison, and Nino continued, "well, what do you expect? You're dating one of his daughters so of course he'd be extra cautious around you. And he feels responsible since he did hire you as our tutor, after all."

"…and even when you were just our tutor," Miku added, "you did step over the line a few times. Can't blame him for wanting to make sure you're on your best behavior when around Ichika."

"Well, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but… is there any hope of trying to get on his good side? Like at all? No matter what I do I end up doing something that makes him hate me even more."

Nino gave an unconvinced shrug. "Can't help you with that. He's always loved us, and Papa is a pretty good judge of character. It's quite a tall order for someone who's never been liked by people that much in the first place."

"Uncalled for." Fuutarou glared at her, to which Nino flashed back a mischievous grin. He continued, "well, it doesn't hurt to ask. Guess that guy was probably born with that look already on his face."

Miku laughed. "Oh come on, he's not that bad. Once you get to know him, he's actually really, really sweet." She quietly looked down, a sentimental smile forming on her lips. "Like the time we were still getting to know him. We've never had a stepfather before—well, we never had a real father either, so it was a really scary feeling for all of us. Dad looked like he could be a little strict, and we almost always saw him in suits. Itsuki and I were actually the most afraid of him at the start."

Both Fuutarou and Nino listened closely as Miku spoke fondly of the memories, "but you know, I think it was all around the same time. Dad didn't have a lot of things to talk about with us at first. We didn't really understand the things he would say, or why he was always out of the house. But… the times he would talk to us about Mom, he always did it with this gentle, but somehow distant, smile on his face. The five of us could tell that he really did love and cherish her. After that… we couldn't find any reason to think he was a bad person."

Miku looked to Fuutarou. "I hope that one day, the two of you will finally get along. After all, you aren't that bad of a person either, Fuutarou." She checked the time on her phone. "Ah, I think I've overstayed a bit. Wouldn't want to keep Mihara-san waiting."

"Take care, Miku!" Nino waved after her.

"And thanks for the advice," said Fuutarou. At the turn of her back, the shared butterfly ribbon that tied her hair came into view. "Oh! And, Miku…"

"Hm?"

"Your hair looks pretty nice tied up like that. It's actually a little refreshing of a change to see you without your hair covering your face. You should do it more often."

The third quintuplet stopped at the door, placing one hand against the metal doorframe. With a slow pull of the white beret she wore over her head, and a quick brush over her bangs, Miku could hardly manage a timely response. Her voice poorly disguised, coming off only as mumble, "Y…yeah… thanks, Fuutarou. See you, uhm, late—later…"

They gentle ring of the bell came as the young baker girl left the store.

"Sometimes, Fuu-kun…" Nino stood next to him, crossing her arms. "I can't tell if I've been wrong about you being an idiot, or if you're somehow an even bigger one than I give you credit for."

"Huh…? Wait, what is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing." She waved a hand away as she walked back to the kitchen. "Don't worry, I got a busy shift to get back to, so I won't even try to eavesdrop over your and Papa's conversation. Good luck."

"Honestly…" he muttered, but was reminded of something. "Oh, by the way, Nino…"

"Hm? What?" The second sister turned on one heel, flicking aside the hair that barely brushed her shoulder. "Thinking of trying to pull a fast one on me? Go ahead and try it. I'm feeling pretty cute with the way I did my hair and makeup today, so what you say won't surprise me."

"Like I said, I don't get what you're talking about." He sighed with a quick shake to his head. "No, I was just saying that I forgot to bring it up the last time we talked. How's your apprenticeship going here?"

"Oh, that? It's going well, you could say." Nino played off a humble shrug. "Ohta-san knows a lot more than he looks like he does."

Fuutarou nodded. Things were indeed quite different since he had last been here. At the time, he and Nino were both colleagues, and between being her tutor, her job senior, and the one whom she relentlessly pursued with her love—it was admittedly easier to see the second sister as someone who could be a little foolhardy and immature. At the time, at least. Now, the girl in front of him was not just a regular baker at Revival, but a fully-recognized apprentice and store shift manager under local business owner of the increasingly popular bakery, Revival, Ohta.

"You're working pretty hard, aren't you?" He offered a sincere smile. "It's not easy to take up an apprenticeship for business while also being a full time student. I sneaked a peak at your grades a while ago, and you really did mean it when you said you were serious."

Between the short lapse that formed from his words and her cautiously thinking over them, Nino was hardly ready for the gentle hand placed over her head. "Great job," Fuutarou said. "I'm proud of you girls and your hard work."

His hand was only there for a few seconds longer before she calmly brushed it off. Her eyes never met his beyond that point, for fear that he could see that silly, naive smile on her face. "Ichika has really rubbed off on you, huh?" she muttered quietly.

"Hm? Did you say something."

"Nothing… I-I got a shift to get back to."

And with that, Fuutarou stood alone in the bakery. There were still a handful of minutes left. Enough to at least have a seat and order a small coffee. Enough to let the sounds of silverware and plates, the highs and lows of jazz, and the idle noise of customers slowly immerse him.

When the time had come for him to sit opposite with the clean, tailored suit that adorned the stoic father, Fuutarou had already shaken away the last of his nerves. "Would you like anything to drink, Nakano-san?" Fuutarou politely asked after a formal greeting.

"I do not frequent places like this, so there is no need." Maruo replied.

"Nothing at all? Wouldn't you at least like a coffee while we are here?"

Maruo thought for a moment, the slow hum of his breath barely audible. "…I suppose a coffee will do. Do they serve it black here?"

Taste like that hardly surprised Fuutarou, and the two continued to get situated with the other's company. There was always that short, contemplative silence that accompanied Nakano Maruo's presence, and anyone in Fuutarou's position would understandably waver when faced with that deadpan expression looking their way. However—as Fuutarou would eventually come to realize a little late in his life—patience was a virtue when it came to understanding one another.

"You're looking well, Uesugi-kun."

"Thank you." At first, Fuutarou would have thought the phrase to be mere sarcasm, until he remembered that Maruo did not appear to be one for jokes. "You're looking well yourself, Nakano-san. I know you must be very busy with work at the hospital, so I have to ask, what was it that you wanted to see me for today?"

Maruo crossed one leg over the other, letting his hands rest at the knee. "I simply wanted to have a chat with you, Uesugi-kun."

"A chat?"

"Yes. I thought the two of us should at least have a talk for once—as adults."

One of the workers had arrived with Maruo's ordered coffee, and after an expression of gratitude, the man began to slowly take his time drawing the first sips. It gave Fuutarou enough time to think about what Maruo had last said.

As adults. The words repeated. That was when Fuutarou realized it—he had had no problems looking Maruo directly in the eye when they spoke. No subtleties in his statements; no dynamic formed between their positions.

"As adults…" Fuutarou repeated, this time out loud. If it were one moment his body acted separately from his thoughts, it would have to be that foolish-looking smile on his face, as if he had finally been validated after so long.

"Make no mistake," Maruo continued. "I think we both know more than enough about each other already. We began as employer and employee, and we've since made many, many more impressions on the other than one would expect from this kind of relationship."

Fuutarou brushed off a nervous laugh. "Right… I never got the chance to apologize to you about all those times. There were… definitely some times I could have worded my thoughts better."

"I do not particularly like you, Uesugi-kun" Maruo stated bluntly, and this time, Fuutarou could hardly stifle the look on his face. Before he could respond, Maruo continued, "And, I do not think I particularly have to like you either. Though, I was surprised to find out that Ichika's relationship with you was something that was still going on"

"You were surprised that we are still dating?" The left side of Fuutarou's face crinkled a little over that remark. "I'll be honest with you, Nakano-san, that's awfully blunt of you to say. It's like you were holding out on Ichika to dump me."

"A little like that, Uesugi-kun." Maruo swirled around the darkened liquid of his coffee. "…and a little of the latter as well."

"Pardon?" For a moment, Fuutarou sat at a loss of words. "With all due respect, Nakano-san, but I don't think you know enough about our relationship to make that assumption. To me, Ichika is… well, I sincerely do love—"

"There is a lot I know about you, Uesugi-kun," Maruo interrupted. "I know you are impulsive, that you have no respect for your employer, and that you like to implant stubborn ideas into impressionable girls."

Maruo took another long sip of his coffee. "However… there are things I do not know about you as well. I do not know if you would be a good man for my daughter, nor do I know if you have the patience and decency to look after one of Rena's daughters, because they all… take after her quite well. Just as joyful; just as stubborn."

Before he knew it, Maruo had let the memory slip back to him. He remembered those adolescent days spent in fruitless admiration. He remembered the countless times he had spent beside the hospital bed—completely and foolishly in love, and simultaneously torn apart with every passing dwindling day. He remembered all the dedication that one man could possibly have for the woman they loved—the same look reflected in that furrowed gaze seated across from Maruo.

"Then I will prove it to you," Fuutarou said, and for a moment, it almost seemed like Maruo had heard himself talking. "Even if it can't happen by today, by tomorrow, months, or years I—"

"I did not come here to be convinced, Uesugi-kun." The man put his coffee back down onto its plate. "Though I've expressed my distaste many, many times, I cannot simply ignore my daughter's wishes. Especially not after seeing how deeply sincere Ichika looked in person." Maruo closed his eyes, sighing. "Regardless of my attitude towards you, Uesugi-kun, you are someone who is here to stay."

"Here to stay…" Fuutarou repeated the words. In the euphoria of it all—amidst the bright stage lights and watchful eyes—he could hardly remember the details that surrounded him at that moment. Not whatever words murmured from the stage audience, nor whatever nonsense Itsuki mumbled to herself beside him, and especially not how Maruo reacted. "Does that mean you…"

"Take it as you will." Maruo leaned back, crossing his other leg over. "At the very least, I fully respect my daughter's decision. Ichika is an adult, and likewise, so are you, Uesugi-kun. As a parent, the only thing I can do is respect that."

"Then… I don't suppose it would be too much to ask for a fresh start?"

"Not entirely." The response came without a shred of hesitation. "I said this before as well—my daughters have grown a lot more stubborn after getting involved with you. I have no issues covering tuition, and yet, both Nino and Miku insist on keeping their jobs. They should be focusing their efforts entirely on school, like Itsuki does. And Yotsuba, oddly enough, seems to be avoiding me. Before, she would always leave messages on my phone while I was busy at work…"

Again, Maruo sighed. "It's gotten troublesome."

"If I may, Nakano-san…" Fuutarou raised a cautious hand in front of himself. "It might not be my place to say this but… are you perhaps… venting out to me?"

'I do not like jokes, Uesugi-kun."

"I'm not joking," Fuutarou replied, ignoring the sharpened glare pointed his way. "I actually spoke a bit with my dad about you, Nakano-san."

"Isanari…" The mere muttering of his name caused Maruo to grimace. "I can attest that whatever that man said about me is grossly exaggerated, and you would do well to get rid of the thought."

Fuutarou chuckled back. "Maybe. But, if it's something I choose to believe, then it's this…" Fuutarou leaned forward, resting his elbows on top of his knees. The lengths of his fingers cradled together as he drew his gaze further downward. "I never thought it was any different until I got older, but my father is… young. A lot younger than many would think, for having an eighteen year old son."

Maruo remained silent.

"I didn't think much of it, but it's clear that my mom and dad had me when they were hardly any older than I am now. I… can't imagine how the two of them must have felt, suddenly becoming parents like that. For the longest time, I always thought of my dad as someone who was a little too carefree, and I was not expecting much when I asked him on a whim."

"But he told me a lot of stories about how you two would always be butting heads. How often the two of you got into arguments in the halls. How many times he tried to cut class, and how many times you were there to stop him. And, just how much you admired the quintuplets' mother."

"That's all from his perspective," said Maruo. "It's true Isanari and I never saw eye-to-eye, but that hardly gives Isanari the right to say such things. You mistake us for being anywhere remotely close to one another."

"True," Fuutarou replied, but the slight air to his tone hinted at a tinge of doubt. "But he did tell me something like this—being a parent… that's something just about anybody could do; being a good parent, well… that could be a little harder. My dad was young when he became a parent, and he told me that truthfully, he did not know if he would ever be a good father. Even now, he admits that he is still unsure."

He met with Maruo's eyes. "And that was the one thing my dad felt like he could really relate with you, Nakano-san."

Maruo held back a quick remark, instead focusing everything he could to keep the stern look on face. Though, he was not quite able to fully disguise the short moment where his eyes grew wide. "That is… hardly the truth."

"But hardly a lie either, I don't think," Fuutarou quickly replied. "You've told me this once before that you are a flawed parent. Yet, you accepted five identical daughters under your care when you and my father are the same age. You've provided for them and you protect them. And if I may, it would be like what you said earlier—we've both made our impressions. After spending so much time with those girls, and learning about you through them, I think it's fair that I also have my own impressions of you, Nakano-san."

"Oh?" Maruo narrowed his gaze, as if marking the young university student for his audacity. "And what might that be?"

"That you aren't half bad of a father to those girls."

There was slight hesitation in Maruo's eyes. It was almost as if the man was prepared to shut down any naive remark that dared come out of Fuutarou's mouth, but when the time had finally come, he was left with only a brief hum to his voice.

"You do more than just provide for them," Fuutarou continued. "You know them by heart, and more importantly, you wholeheartedly trust them. Ichika with her acting; Nino, Miku, and Itsuki with their jobs and with school. And that also goes for what you were saying about Yotsuba too. If I could keep acting out of place for just a minute longer, I would say… that it makes sense that you would worry about her a little. A parent can't help but worry. But I'm sure deep down, Yotsuba understands that what you're doing is giving her space to figure things out for herself."

Fuutarou smiled. "It's clear to me that you love those girls, and it goes without saying that they do too."

There was a lengthy silence over their table. Surrounded by the din of an afternoon cafe, the two remained in their seats. Maruo reached back for his coffee, drawing the cool ceramic rim to his lips, only to realize that he had already finished his coffee.

Maruo wondered, between this disorderly and expeditious life of his, just how many times could he truly say he made the right decisions? Moreover, would it be more appropriate to instead ask how many times he had ever doubted himself? Nakano Rena was a fervent dream in his life—an abiding flame that once and forever will inspire the man he recognized in the mirror each morning. Though her time in this world lived only in memoriam, those instilled thoughts and ambitions burned just as brightly whenever he looked upon their daughters' faces. And just as that flame changed his life, so too did its embers—to himself, and to this strangely familiar face across from him.

With a long, reflective sigh, Maruo placed his cup back down back down. His eyes drew to the nearby window, catching sight of every small, bright detail that made for a midwinter sunshine.

"That…" Maruo slowly closed his eyes. "…is not something I need validated by you, Uesugi-kun."

Author's Note

Another installment of "things-that-could-probably-have-been-split-into-its-own-chapters" here! Something a little different than what I had originally thought—a dad chapter! The ones that matter, either way *coughcough*. Oh, and of course, some Raiha as well. Isanari and Maruo's dynamic was a little difficult to reference in the source material (due to how little it was explored), but that just leaves a lot more room for creative exploration. It's easy to forget just how young the two fathers are, and while the drip-feeding of their history is nice, it does leave a bit more to be desired. After two big Ichika chapters (don't get me wrong, it's where I feel the best with what I want to write) it's nice to drop my head in back on the other characters/elements in the story, like the Uesugi family's old restaurant/bakery.

In any case, next month looks to be November already, huh? Chapter 11 coming up will mark a full year since I started writing here, and coincidentally, it will also mark one year in the timespan of this story. Now, I don't think that necessarily means I'll be spending the next three years with updates (since I'm still sticking with the canon five years from beginning/four years from end of manga ending), but I thought that was just a fun fact haha. I'm very satisfied with the way things have turned out, and will prematurely celebrate °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Anyways, thanks to those who left reviews on Chapter 9—Kaien1123, Blackflame7, Random Reader Guy, TheMist33, Fox McCloude, nelsonprim02, Quintaphract, and any guest review(s)! Thanks also to the reddit commenters—Faby777, vonin7, and OkinaNeko7. A couple of new faces I see, and whether you've read before, just tuning in, or just hanging around—'Hello', 'Welcome', 'Enjoy' and 'Hope to see you again!'

Now, where is my rock?

_φ(。。) "Accept the chapter lengths. You are one with it now..."