Chapter 4. We're all idiots

A/N: I actually created an outline for this story, so I'm more prepared than usual…except the outline takes away the feeling of freedom that comes with writing (for me specifically). So, undecided on how much I like using outlines vs. just winging it lol

Standard disclaimers apply. (Yes, I am terrified of getting sued because I'm way too poor for any of that.)

Soujirou moved around in the kitchen, taking things from the pantries without a moment of hesitation in his movement.

"It's like you live here," I grumbled.

It has been a week since Soujirou revealed he knew my mom, but the brat stubbornly refused to provide more details about how they know each other. After my outburst at him that night, I thought he was going to leave for good. Instead, I found him on my doorstep the next morning with a pesky smile on his face.

"I thought it over and I decided that I need to make sure you're eating—or Mrs. Kano will chew my head off," he had explained.

I had stood on the doorsteps in my Kuromi pajama set, staring at him. "What?"

"Breakfast?" Soujirou held up a coffee bean bag and smiled cheerfully, ignoring my confusion.

I thought it was a one-time thing. Except it wasn't.

Soujirou came.

Every. Day.

When I realized he was serious about being my babysitter, I tried pretending I wasn't home to get rid of him.

Unfortunately, it did not work.

"Kaoruuuuuu," he called through the window. "I know you're homeeeeee."

I buried myself deeper underneath my mom's blanket and groaned.

"KAOOORRRUUUUUUUU."

I heaved a sigh and dragged myself to the door, not wanting to disturb my neighbors.

"I bought egg tarts!" Soujirou beamed while I glared at him.

The next day, I stayed out as late as I could before returning home, only to find him sitting on my front steps.

"Okaerinasai!" Soujirou flashed a brilliant grin my way. "I learned this today from my guidebook. How was my pronunciation?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Men really cannot take a hint.

"Why are you doing this?" I muttered.

"Hm?"

"This. Why do you keep coming? I don't know you."

Soujirou stood, his face partially concealed by the shadows of the house. "I just thought it'd be nice if you knew that people care about you."

"Oh." My mouth felt dry suddenly for no reason.

"Plus, I'm running out of money, so if I can come over for food…" He rubbed the back of his head and laughed.

I rolled my eyes. So much for knowing that people care about you.

"Fine," I muttered. "You can come over for food. Tomoe gave me too much anyways."

Since then, he came by to check on me daily. I did myself to keep my distance and stay aloof, thinking I'd be content hanging out with just my memories of my mom. But it was nice to have another presence in the house. The space seemed less lonely.

"Here you go." Soujirou's voice broke my musings. I looked appreciatively at the stack of fluffy blueberry pancakes in front me, the maple syrup running down the edges in lazy, slow golden drips.

"There's pancake mix in the pantry?" I wondered out loud.

"Didn't you know?"

"My mom never let me near the kitchen." I was surprised that the mention of her did not reduce me to shambles. The pain was still there, but a dull ache rather than a fresh wound.

"Speaking of staying away," Soujirou nodded toward the backdoor, "where does that lead?"

I stiffened. The dull ache sharpened.

"Just the backyard." I took a sip of the cold coffee. "This coffee's good. Where'd you get the beans?"

He lifted his eyebrows at my attempt to change the subject. Under his scrutiny, I caved.

"I wasn't lying. It is the backyard." I forked a piece of the pancake, "My mom grew a garden there…and that was where she passed away."

After a long pause, Soujirou asked softly. "What's her garden like?"

"She had some flowers and herbs, I think. When I left for Hokkaido, she was planting daikon. She said…" My voice caught. "She said she would send me some when they are harvested."

The room grew quiet as I tried to wash down the lump in my throat with more coffee.

"Hmmm…" Soujirou gazed at the door with a thoughtful expression. Then he smiled and held out his hand. "Shall we look at the daikon?"

I hesitated, the sharp pain growing inside me.

"Come on." He coaxed.

Our eyes met and before I could think better of it, I found myself reaching for his hand. His fingers curled around me, and with him leading, we walked toward the dark brown door.

"Ready?" He asked.

My mind screamed no, but I let him open the door anyway.

The fall sunlight hit my face, its warmth dizzying. The backyard was just as I remembered—a small path in the middle with a garden on one side. There was a row of daikon in the soft soil, and plenty of empty garden space surrounding it. On the other side, a round garden table with a few chairs sat underneath a maple tree, their surface covered with the fiery red leaves.

This was where my mom had stood when the heart attack happened. Tomoe told me it was instantaneous, but I still wondered…did she feel pain? Was the ground too cold and too hard when she fell on it? The green daikon leaves swayed gently in the breeze—a dance of quiet betrayal. How could they still grow when she was gone?

"It's a nice place." Soujirou remarked, his gaze sweeping over the space. "Let's go back to our pancakes."

He gave my hand a gentle squeeze as we walked back inside.

I sat back down at the table, the warmth of Soujirou's hand still ghosting over my palm. My pancakes were cold now, the syrup congealing at the edges, but I picked up my fork anyway.

Soujirou seemed perfectly comfortable, eating his pancakes and acting like this was something we'd always done—sitting across from each other over breakfast.

"The garden was a bit empty." Soujirou stated after a few bites.

I murmured, "My mom did have some other stuff planned, but she didn't get a chance to finish…"

Soujirou sat down his coffee and said, "You should finish it for her."

"Me? I don't know how to plant daikon!"

"I was thinking we could plant some flowers," he said, laughing. "But we can grow a whole army of daikon if you'd like."

"I'll think about it." I said, ignoring the tiny butterfly that appeared in my stomach when he used 'we' in his sentence.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" He asked me suddenly.

"Nothing."

"Good. Consider yourself booked." Soujirou took out his phone and started tapping the screen furiously.

"For what?"

"Adventure with Soujirou!" He grinned.

I couldn't stop the corner of my mouth from twitching upward.

Idiot.

After Soujirou left, I rummaged around the house, looking for my mom's journal. During the whirlwind of funeral events, I completely forgot about it until now. I remember her making a list of the fall plants she wanted to grow, and if I was going to continue the garden, I want it to be the one she would have wanted.

If only I can find it...

This was a running joke in my family—neither my mom or I could ever remember where we stored valuable things.

The only person that could find anything that we hid was my dad.

My hands faltered on the drawer knobs of my mom's writing desk, recalling how happy the three of us were in Hokkaido.

Everything was perfect. My dad was a policeman who was going to be promoted that winter and my mom had just secured a part-time position at a cooking school. Both were so excited for me, the seven-year-old who was about to start elementary school that fall.

I shook my head forcibly. This was not the time to be thinking about the past.

I focused my attention back on the writing desk drawer. I tried to push it back in place, but it would not go all the way to the back. I reached in with my fingers and brushed against rigid edges.

"Yes!" I whispered, pulling out my mom's journal.

"You're kidding."

Soujirou clapped his gloved-handed in front of me. "The store worker told me that garden gloves are great in preventing dirt from getting underneath your nails!"

"And these?" I waved at the containers of potted plants on the table.

"Plants for your garden, of course." Soujirou smiled brightly, oblivious to the fact that he bought more plants than my home's tiny little garden can ever handle.

Before I could answer, he snapped his fingers and said, "Oh! I almost forgot!"

I watched in a mixture of disbelief and fascination as he started taking packets after packets of seeds from his jacket pocket, like a magician pulling scarves from their hat.

"Did you buy the entire store?" I muttered as Soujirou pulled out the final packet, a little paper envelope of cilantro seeds.

"Of course not. I just got one of everything they had." He corrected me.

I couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "But this is enough to create five Central Parks."

He grinned. "I don't think they grow shiso in Central Park. You're starting your very own Kanto Park!"

I rolled my eyes.

After consulting my mom's list, we decided to focus on cabbage and carrots. Luckily, Soujirou bought seedlings so we didn't have to start from scratch. We agreed we would worry about the other plants later.

I stood in the backyard with my arms wrapped around myself, eyeing the patches of soil. Soujirou knelt beside it, sleeves pushed up, digging small holes.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" I asked.

"Nope." He grinned up at me, a small dirt spot on his cheek. "But the lady at the store gave me some very good tips."

"I thought you didn't speak much Japanese?"

"And she didn't really understand English."

"And you communicated perfectly apparently."

He laughed and set the trowel down. He glanced up at me. "Your turn."

I kneeled down slowly, hugging myself slightly tighter.

"It's just dirt," he said gently, handing me a container with green stalks.

I slowly reached out and took the container from him, thinking that it should be my mom planting the cabbage. Maybe that's what she was thinking about—buying the seedlings when a pain radiated itself from her chest.

And then falling into an endless night…

"You're doing great." Soujirou's warm voice brought me back to the garden.

I swallowed and pretended to be busy with loosening the plant from its container. "My back will not like me by the end of it," I muttered.

"Oh but that's just the beginning." Soujirou said lightly. "After they're all planted, you have to actually take care of them."

"Nope," I shook my head firmly, "I'm going to leave that to Tomoe. She loves gardening."

"You don't want to sing at least once for the beautiful cabbage, lustrous carrots, and lively daikons?" He asked with a straight face. "I read that it'll help them grow."

I made a face. "They'll have to survive without it."

"But the poor plants."

I gently put the green stalk in the soil. "I'm teaching them an important lesson in life—you can't always get what you want."

Soujirou laughed and leaned back on his hands. He closed his eyes as a slight breeze brushed past us, ruffling his hair. He looked so unguarded and carefree, with the sun highlighting his young and boyish features.

"You have a spot on your face." Caught by the moment, I took off my glove and reached over.

"I got it," Almost too quickly, Soujirou wiped his face with his arm. "We should get back to work."

I blinked.

The moment was gone.

"Are you sure you don't need help?" Soujirou asked from his seat at the dining table.

I whirled around, holding the noodles tightly in my hand. "Nope. I got this."

My goal was to thank him for helping me plant the garden by making dinner, but…I peered into the pot of boiling water, maybe that was too ambitious of me.

"Did you add salt?" Soujirou appeared by my side, eyeing the water curiously.

"Salt?" My grip tightened. The water was finally going to boil now, but I'm supposed to add salt?

"It'll help to bring out the flavor, but it's fine." He added quickly, noting the slightly panicked expression on my face.

"Okay." I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, "The water is taking forever to boil, so I'm glad I don't have to start over."

Soujirou looked at the pot I used and snickered. "Why are you using the stock pot?"

"Stock pot?" I could feel the noodles digging into my palms.

"Um Kaoru, I would loosen the grip on the noodles. You're crumbling them into pieces."

"Eek!"

Needless to say, the dinner of gratitude did not go as planned.

"This is very gourmet and fancy," Soujirou remarked seriously later that evening, eyeing the cheeses and crackers on the table, "I don't remember the last time I've had such a well-balanced meal."

"Not another word." I thrusted my hand into the sleeve of crackers and mumbled.

"I'm just paying my compliment to the chef." His words sounded innocent, but there was a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

"This is why my mom never let me near the kitchen." My face grew warm again.

Soujirou popped a piece of cheeses in his mouth. "Very wise of her." He pointed to the burned pots in the sink, "I've never met anyone who could burn noodles, in that large of a pot especially."

"It was an accident!" I protested feebly. It wasn't my fault that I got engrossed in my conversation with Misao and forgot that the noodles were on the stove. Well, maybe I was responsible for it, but who knew water could evaporate so quickly?

"Anyways, I'm heading out. I need to pack tonight." Soujirou announced, getting up from his chair.

My chest tightened. "You're packing?"

He nodded. "I'm going back to Hakodate tomorrow. Mrs. Kano's willing to give me a discount, but I can't go on spending like this, especially with two hotel rooms. Plus, I have some stuff I need to do there." He paused in putting his jacket on, "And you're in a better place now."

After having been in Tokyo for the past days, I almost forgot about Hokkaido.

Mrs. Kano, Yahiko, and my hotel room…it all seemed so distant.

"Are you going to stay here or go back too? I can help you check out of your room if you'd like with Mrs. Kano." Soujirou's tone was light, causal, but my heart grew heavier with each word he spoke.

"I-I don't know…" My gaze fell on the urn, standing quietly in one corner of the room. I would have to make a trip to Hokkaido sooner or later, but the garden that was just planted…

"I'm leaving on the 10:45am." Soujirou shrugged. "If you'd like to go together."

I took a shaky breath. "I think I'll stay here a bit longer. I still need to clean up the house and the garden."

Soujirou nodded.

We walked down the hallway in silence. My shoulder brushed against his slightly as he bent down to put his shoes on. He opened the door.

A rush of the cool night air swept through the entryway and I realized this may be the last time I see him.

"Thank you," I bowed as Soujirou stepped outside, "for everything."

He turned and mirrored my movement. "It was my pleasure. Take care, Kaoru."

"Have a safe trip." I managed a smile.

He smiled back—a quiet, gentle smile that was different from his usual happy-go-look expression— before stepping into the night.

The door closed softly, announcing Soujirou's departure.

I made my way back to the dining room, ignoring the new empty space in my heart.

I glanced at the clock—2am. I flipped to my side and sighed.

It has been a long time since I have lost sleep like that. The last time was probably when I had my graduation recital, which was years ago. I tried counting sheep, but seven million little sheep jumping over a wooden fence later, I was still wide awake.

Groaning, I sat up in the bed and turned on the lamp, my fingers brushing against my mom's journal on the nightstand.

I had started reading the journal yesterday. My mom didn't exactly treat it as a diary, but more of a place for her to jot down random thoughts. She had the list of the garden plants she wanted, recipes cut out from magazines, and snippets of her day. All these things were mundane and trivial, but now they were some of the only things I have left of her.

I took a deep breath and opened the journal, hoping my mom's words would somehow sooth me.

My 8am alarm clock rang and I turned it off mechanically, my mind buzzing with the section I just read in my mom's journal.

Nov 1, 2007

Kaoru left for Hokkaido today. It must be fate, ne? For her to return to the place where she was born. I only hope she will not leave with the same pain I carried when I left Hakodate so many years ago, after Koshijirou passed.

Even now, I find myself thinking about the people who blackmailed him, the ones who drove him to his end. Do they feel remorse for what they did? For ruining a good man and changing the course of our lives forever?

But I have no regret. If I could go back in time, I would still stand by Koshijirou when he saved that poor boy from the awful home he was in. All those wounds and he was barely eight…

The entry broke off.

Koshijirou was my dad, but what did my mom mean? That he was driven to suicide by some blackmailers?

My mind drifted back to that day when everything changed.

I had just started elementary school in Hakodate. That morning, I'd forgotten my homework, so I ran back home. Dad's shoes were by the front door—I remember thinking it was odd. He and my mom should have already been at work.

I climbed the stairs and heard a loud thud from his office. My heart hammered as I pushed the door open.

My father was on the floor, his body twisted unnaturally, arching like it was trying to snap itself in half.

"Dad!" I ran to his side.

His eyes were wide, glassy with pain. He reached for me with a trembling hand. "Ka—Kaoru," he gasped before his body seized with another spasm.

Then silence.

The next thing I knew was my mom pulling me away. A few days later, we moved from Hakodate to Tokyo. I had buried that time period deep in my mind, pretending it didn't exist. My mom told me that my dad mistook one medicine for another and I never questioned it, but now…

My gaze fell on my mother's writing.

The people who blackmailed him. The ones who drove him to his end

His death wasn't an accident. Someone pushed him over the edge and took him from us. Leaving my mom with a broken heart and juggling multiple jobs to make ends meet. Causing her to overlook her own health.

And these people. These people who killed him are out there. Laughing, breathing, and alive.

Did they think they can just get away with it?

Idiots.

I flipped the journal page over. My breath caught as I saw the date.

November 16, 2007

The day my mom passed away. She wrote:

The leaves on the maple tree is finally turning red. I wish Kaoru could see it. Maybe one day I will share with her how her father was a hero…I know she will make peace just as I did.

Make peace? She wanted me to make peace with those murderers?

I stared at the maple tree leaves through the window curtains, their fiery color hurting my eyes.

"Sorry Mom." I turned my gaze to the urn in the corner, "I can't forgive them."

I checked the clock—8:30am.

When's the next shinkansen to Hakodate?