Re: One Wish (Hanako, post neutral) [Now with epilogue, 9/15
Posted: Mon Oct 08, 2012 1:56 am
I can't stop these bitch-tears from coming mang ;_;
Very, very nice read!
Very, very nice read!
...dammit, I made an OC that I actually care about.
Part three.
Harmonious
pastebin:
To say that it's been cold outside recently is an understatement. But that's to be expected. It's mid-February, after all. The snow just keeps falling, for hours and even days. Sometimes it feels like the sun's warmth won't ever come back again. Just a constantly overcast sky, the earth covered in thick pillows of white.
We've spent a lot of days curled up on the couch, covered in blankets and watching something mundane on TV. We being my husband and I. Even almost ten years later, I still can't believe he's actually my husband now. I remember the day he proposed: my daughter's first day at school, he showed up in my office with a velvet box and a grand mission. It was almost embarrassing to see him just barge in the door and fall to his knee, with everyone watching. But I gladly accepted.
Right here... this is my favorite spot, snuggled up on his chest and listening to the beats of his heart. It's a bit out of sync, not quite regular, but it's improved over time. We have years of medical advancements to thank for that. I wonder if he'd still be here if not for all of those. He said he wasn't expected to live past his 20s, but now we're pushing through our mid-30s.
What is this we're watching? Some old movie from the 1950's, I think. It's supposed to be a classic, a relic of a bygone era of greats in Japanese film-making. The story's been hard to follow so far. Something about a bandit taking a woman from her husband, dueling the man to the death... but then the woman told her story, followed by the husband's own tale, and I lost track of all the details. Hisao seems positively enthralled, though.
I can feel a layer of darkness start to fall over my eyes. This spot is just so comfortable, so soothing, and the movie isn't entertaining enough to keep me...
“Hey.” His voice. Deepened with age. Why does 35 feel so old sometimes? “No sleeping.” Darn it, Hisao, why can't you let me bask in the bliss for once?
I lift my eyelids, heavy as they are, and look up. His smile is warm, inviting, a stark contrast to the cold of the outside.
“W-well, the movie is kinda b-boring.” My stutter still comes back every now and then. It's mostly evaporated over the years, but sleepiness and emotion bring it to the surface again. It's rather annoying, actually. He told me once that he thought it was cute. I wouldn't like him if he weren't crazy.
“Boring? It's a classic!” He turns up the volume just to showcase his enjoyment. I bury my face in his chest, clasping my hands around his waist. It's almost a desperate plea for attention, but I'm fine to do nothing but exist with him.
“Yeah,” I reply. “Boring.”
“I suppose you're free to fall asleep, then.” I'm not looking at his face, but I can just hear him rolling his eyes with that sarcastic tone in his voice.
I lift my face up and glare at him. He's leaned back, hands behind his head, resting against the cushion with closed eyes. “B-but you just said no sleeping!”
One of his eyes pops open, his lips curled into a pout. Surely there's a rule against a grown man with a goatee pouting about anything. “I changed my mind,” he states, turning off the television and falling into fake sleep again.
I grimace at him, freeing my hands and grabbing the nearest throw pillow. It collides with his head with a thwack. “Hey!” he shouts, reclaiming the pillow as I fetch another. Our laughter combines with the swishing and clashing of fluff-filled cloth. What's the saying? You're only as old as you are at heart? I think this illustrates that perfectly.
He lands a blow across my face, smothering me with the pillow and pushing me back onto the couch. There's that glint in his eye. One of those looks of his that I fell in love with. He's not seriously thinking about that right here and now, is he?
“Ach-hem.” And the cavalry arrives.
“Aki!” I shout, lunging forward. My skull connects with Hisao's, throwing him off of me and grabbing his forehead in pain. He groans and tosses on the couch, putting on a show for all to see. My own head hurts, too, throbbing almost like my heart was pounding just under the skin.
“What was that for?” Hisao shouts in between moans.
“I d-didn't mean to!” I shout back. “I h-heard Aki's voice andIpanickedand-”
“Did I interrupt something?” my daughter asks from beside the couch. It carries that almost snide teenage tone, as if she's making fun of us. Rhetorical is the word. Perfectly fitting for a girl her age. Her hand falls on my head, checking for bumps or bruises.
“No, dear, I'm fine,” I say.
“Speak for yourself!” Hisao calls from the other side of the sofa.
“Dad, don't overreact,” Aki derides. She moves over to him, performing the same check.
“Overreacting? Who's overreacting? Not Hisao Nakai, that's for sure!”
I finally sit up on the cushion. “Sounds like overreacting to me.”
He chuckles. “Well, you do have a hard head.” Aki lets out an uproar of laughter alongside Hisao. I sigh in resignation, folding my arms over my chest and grumbling loudly.
“Th-that's not funny,” I say softly, blood rushing into my cheeks.
Aki gives me a pat on the shoulder, wiping tears from her eyes as her guffaws die down. “Sorry, Mom, just couldn't resist.”
“That doesn't mean you have to take his side!” I object.
“Jealous, dear?” my husband teases.
“A-absolutely not!!” I bellow, raising my shoulders and clenching my fists, my face starting to feel like an inferno. I know why he's doing this, just to get me irritated, because he thinks it's funny. I don't normally let him get this far, but the embarrassment of letting Aki walk in on us has me more flustered than usual.
“Aaaaand there it is,” he continues, standing from his seat. Well, he recovered quickly.
“There's what?” I ask with a tone close to chiding.
He stops in front of me, and I can't help but feel the frustration melt away like candlewax. “The cute scrunch in your eyebrows when you get angry.” And he plants a kiss on my forehead, forcing the rest of the emotion out of my body.
How can I not love this man?
“Ylech!” Aki's retching reaffirms her presence. Her arms folded, leaning against the wall, she continually sticks her tongue out at us, making the same noises.
“What?” Hisao remarks. “Still afraid of a few cooties? Aren't you a bit old for that?”
“Not 'cooties.'” She emphasizes that word with air quotes. “Just keep it to yourself, no one wants to see that.” Her hand comes up to her face, eyes closed and face turned away from us.
Hisao sees an opportunity to tease her more and claims it. “You sure about that?” He moves in for the kill. “I think you are scared.” Pursing his lips, he inches closer. She throws her hands up to force him back, interjecting sounds of disgust until he finally pecks her on the cheek. Finally pulling away from her, he asks, “That wasn't so bad, was it?”
She wipes at the skin, trying to rid herself of whatever he left behind. “I could do without the facial hair, thanks.”
“Aww, you don't like it? I think it makes me look distinguished.” He strokes at his short stubble. Ever the overconfident one, aren't we? I just chuckle at his response.
Another voice joins us, this one tired and groggy. “What's going on down here?” Our son, Jirou, stands in the open doorway beside the couch, dressed in Dragonball pajamas and attempting to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He's still young - not even 9 years old yet - but is already the spitting image of his father.
Aki wraps her arms around his neck, holding him tight in her elbow and twisting her fist into his head. “And here's the last member of the rag-tag crew!” she exclaims with a wink. “Sleep well, kiddo?”
The look on his face says he wants to protest, but he seems too tired to care all that much. He's never really liked that nickname that she's given him. Though the difference in age almost warrants it. “I did,” he answers, “until all the noise started.” Oh, right. That could definitely wake someone up.
I apologize, rubbing the back of my head. “Just a bit of a tussle, that's all.”
Hisao turns to me. “'Just a tussle?'”
My cheeks flush red again. “I already said I was sorry!”
He pats the top of my head, running his fingers through my hair. I can't really stay mad at him when he does that. But dammit, I want to be mad, even if it's just a charade. “Don't worry,” he says, “you're still special.”
“That reminds me,” Jirou pipes up, still locked in his sister's death grip. “Happy birthday, Sis.”
She rolls her eyes. “Gee, glad someone remembered!” Her judging gaze turns to me, then to Hisao.
“It's not like I forgot!” I interject, pressing my index fingers together in front of my face. “Just too much other commotion...” The look on her face just screams that she doesn't buy it. “I was in physical pain! Head trauma!” I point at the still sore spot on my forehead for emphasis. “You can't expect me to remember anything!” Hisao is way better at this than I am. She just stands there, hands on her hips, a look of disgust on her face. “Don't take that tone with me, young lady!”
“What tone?” Her expression is unwavering, solid as cold stone. “I don't know what tone you're talking about.” And yet she falters for a moment, adding a hint of sarcasm.
“That one.” I stand up, assuming the same stance right in front of her. She's a bit taller than me, a holdover from her freakishly tall father.
“All right, all right,” Hisao interrupts, clapping his hands like a referee. “Play time's over!” We were playing? Oh, that's right. I guess I got too caught up in the moment. Did I actually look angry? He turns to our kids. “Aki, Jirou, head into the kitchen, please. Get the stuff ready to make breakfast.”
“I have to work?” she protests. “On my birthday?”
Jirou, having had enough of the current ordeal, grabs his sister by the arm and drags her into the kitchen. She flings a few obscenities around, eliciting a few chuckles from Hisao. I tug on the sleeve of his lounging shirt. “You realize I wasn't actually mad, right?”
“Yeah, but I needed to break it up before anything serious happened.”
“Well... thanks. I... I appreciate it, I guess.” Even fifteen years later, I still have a lot to learn. He's already got me beat. He can't imagine how envious I am of him having a model to look after. That reminds me. “By the way, when are your parents coming over?”
He checks his wristwatch, one of those things he never takes off. I can't fault him, I never took off the ring he gave me for our engagement, either. “About an hour or so, I think.” Excellent, plenty of time to have family time.
I plant a kiss on his cheek and grab his arm. “Good. Now let's enjoy some time with our kids?”
That smile of his is infectious. “Absolutely.”
* * *
Breakfast goes over well. Hisao has turned out to be a decent cook over the years, after a little bit of training. I managed to teach him that throwing enough spices makes anything edible, and he somehow learned to stomach my appetite for the burn. It seems my children inherited that trait, and today's breakfast was particularly spicy: omelets cooked to order for each of us, loaded with crushed red pepper for that extra kick.
“Hot enough for you this time?” he remarks after I finish the last bite of my omelet, downing a gulp of milk along with it.
I nod, smiling through the inferno behind my lips. “Mmhmm! I think you finally got it perfect.” I put a kiss on his cheek just for confirmation.
Of course, Aki has to express her dismay, “Mom, didn't we just go over this?”
“I'm not allowed to love my husband now?” I object.
She looks away, holding her head in one hand. “Just... keep it to yourself, please?”
Jirou keeps nibbling away at his breakfast. He's already halfway through his second glass of milk, still not quite used to my level of heat. I get the sense that he doesn't like seeing the two of us bicker like this, and he manages to change the subject. “So, Sis, what'd you ask for for your birthday?”
His father answers for her. “I don't think she asked for anything.” Stuffing another forkful of food in his mouth, he elaborates. “We pestered her...” I pinch him in the arm to stop him talking with his mouth full. A gulp later, he finishes his thought. “We pestered her about it, but never got anything.”
“Well, what did you get her then?” Jirou answers, leaning up in his chair and putting his hands on the table for support.
Hisao reaches below his seat to pick up her present: a small little box wrapped in golden paper. He places it on the table, letting it sit in front of Aki for a moment. She catches sight of it, mesmerized by the way the light shimmers on the surface. Hisao smiles, saying, “Happy birthday, Aki.”
I push the golden box closer to her. She eyes it carefully, with a sense of wonder and intrigue. “Go on,” I say. She turns her head up, staring at us like a deer in the headlights. “Open it.”
She smiles and goes to work on the paper, meticulous about not introducing a single tear. She's always been this way, even when she was just a little girl. Undoing every crease, cutting pieces of tape with her fingernail instead of ripping it apart... well, at least we don't have to buy tons of wrapping paper for the holidays.
Beneath the metallic paper lies a small red box, the top slightly larger than its base. Aki pulls the lid off to unveil her gift. She removes a small stick of bamboo, a long strip of paper attached to one end. It's unorthodox, but I am guessing that she doesn't see the significance yet. Before I can explain, though, Jirou expresses his own curiosity: “What is it?” he asks, reaching to grab the shaft.
“It's a Tanabata flag,” Hisao explains. Of course, Jirou hasn't experienced a Tanabata festival. Hisao claims the flag from Aki, letting the paper dangle above the table. “Tanabata is a celebration of the meeting of two lovers. You write your wish on the flag, and then you do your best to make it come true.”
“That's Aki's birthday present,” I add. “She can make a wish, and we'll do what we can to make it happen.”
Hisao hands the flag back to her. She doesn't speak, just staring at the flag with widened eyes. It's as if she already knows what wish she wants to make, but isn't quite sure how to phrase it. Maybe she needs a little push. “So... what do you want to wish for?” Still just a blank stare. She looks up for a moment, then back down. Reminds me of her when I was that age, timid and quiet. “That's okay. Take your time. We can wait.”
The doorbell rings. Hisao stands from his chair, saying, “That must be them. Jirou, would you like to help me welcome Gramma and Grampa?” Our son nods, hopping down from his seat and rushing down the corridor to the front door. His shouts of joy echo through the hallway, “Sofuba! Sofuba!” His father is close behind, leaving just me with my daughter in an awkward silence, her attention still glued to our gift.
I ask the natural question. “Have you thought about it at all?”
She fidgets in her seat. Her voice cracks a bit as she answers. “I already know what I want.”
“You do?” I respond with a hint of surprise. “Well, what is it? I do mean anything, and your dad and I will do what we can.”
More fidgeting, as if she's uncomfortable, sitting in a chair that's burst into flames. A literal hot seat. “I...” She's whispering, stammering. Just say it, Aki. It's okay, I won't think you're stupid. Just tell me what you want.
“I want to meet my father.”
Did... did I hear that right? “But you have Hisao. Isn't he your dad?”
She shakes her head violently, strands of her dark hair flying around her face. “No. Not my dad. Hisao is my dad, I know that.” She tilts her head down, almost talking into her hands clasped on the table. “My father. Biological. I... I want to meet him, to know who he is.” Well, I guess I did hear it right.
“Um...” I scratch at the back of my head. I'm not sure how to respond. I made a promise to her, so I suppose that we're already locked into this. But how would I even find him again? I still remember his name, sure, but that's about it. He left without telling me anything, so he could be anywhere on the planet by now.
“You don't have to answer now,” I hear her reply. “You already said you'd do it. We can talk about it after Gramma and Grampa leave.”
I nod. Just how long has she been thinking about this, though? It's something that doesn't just come out of the blue. And why wouldn't she have asked about him already? Did curiosity finally get the better of her? Is she disappointed with how Hisao treats her? I don't know. Questions beget more questions and no answers; hopefully I'll be able to get some out of her later today.
“Hannaaaaa!” Hisao shouts from the front door. “We have guests!”
“Just a minute!” I shout back. I turn back to Aki, a smile on my face. “I'll talk to your dad about it. We'll figure something out.” Her face lights up in turn, excited about the possibilities.
...what have I gotten myself into?
* * *
“Wait... she what?” Hisao's tone is a muddled mixture of surprise, interest, and distaste.
“You heard me,” I reply sternly. “She wants to meet her father.”
He sits on our bed, running his hands through his hair and letting out a deep sigh. “I have to be honest, I didn't expect her to pull something like that when we made the offer.”
“And I did? Not a sign of remorse about it, no regrets...” I lean against the wall, crossing my feet over each other. “Just... completely out of the blue. I mean, she's never even met him.”
“Have you talked about him before to her?”
“Once or twice, those first few days of school. I think seeing people come in with their dads made her... jealous?” I look up from the floor, noticing that he has, too, and our gazes meet. “But she's always looked at you like her dad. She doesn't know any different.”
“Well.” He puts his hands on his thighs, standing up slowly. “We made the promise to her. So I suppose we'd better get started.” He heads for the door, pulling it open. I presume he's making a beeline for the office, but I follow close behind.
Our office is right next to the master bedroom, littered with papers from Hisao's grading sessions and my take-home work on the tougher cases. The lights illuminate the floor, now one of the few lit rooms in the whole house. Jirou has already been put to bed, and Aki has retreated into her own bedroom. We will be relatively undisturbed.
Hisao jiggles the mouse, claiming his spot in the rolling chair and bringing the dimmed monitor to life. He opens a web browser and pulls up a search engine. “Can you give me a family name?” he asks hurriedly.
I pause for a moment to dig up an answer. It's been years since I have even given the man a passing thought, so I have to rack into some of my deepest memories. There it is. “Takamura. Takamura Eiji.”
He keys in my response and starts paging through the results. There are hundreds, maybe even thousands, as I expected; it's not a particularly uncommon name. He restricts them to social networks, seeing if he can at least reduce that number down to something manageable. Going through the pictures, he keeps asking, “Any of these look familiar?”
Each time, it meets the same answer. “Nope.”
The minutes pass, turning into hours. My sense of time starts to fade, and it starts getting difficult to stay awake. Each response is laced with more exhaustion than the last, and I can - barely - tell that the hours are starting to affect Hisao, too. A glance at the clock reads 43 minutes past midnight. “Dear,” I say weakly, tugging on his sleeve. We're sitting next to each other, and his hand struggles to support his head. It takes a moment for him to acknowledge my presence. “It's late,” I continue. “Shouldn't we go to bed?”
He sighs through his nose. “Yeah, I just noticed the time. And we're not getting anywhere, are we?” The pictures keep flowing across the screen, slow enough to catch fleeting glimpses of the facial features.
“No,” I reply, mimicking his frustration. “Maybe we can get with the police sometime next week?” I rest my head on his shoulder, and he kisses the top of my head.
“That seems like the best option.” His voice is muffled into my hair. “We'll get with them on Monday. For now, bed.” He reaches up to turn off the monitor after one last scroll. I scan the faces in a hurry, and... there!
“Wait!”
He freezes, fingertips just inches away from the power switch. I shove his arm out of the way, pointing at the picture that caught my eye: a man of about 40 years with slicked, black hair and dark brown eyes. “That's him, I know it!”
“You're certain?” he asks. Familiar, yes, but not completely sure. I won't be until I actually have more information. I claim the mouse from his grip, hunched over the keyboard and navigating to the profile description. It's full of information: he's living in Nagoya, Kyoto University class of 2008, working in tech support for a local IT firm... it's still a long shot, but I have a good feeling about this one.
“Certain enough,” I reply after scanning through all the details. I bring up our e-mail client, starting a new message before Hisao grabs my shoulder.
“Hana, it's late.” I look up at him, his eyes weary and tired. “You said it yourself. I understand that you're excited all of a sudden, but this can wait until morning.” That same sense of exhaustion starts to set in, overwhelming my burst of energy. He... he might be right. I could say something completely stupid in my sleepless daze, make this all a disaster before we even get anywhere.
“Y-yeah.” Another time for my stammer to come up: when my body craves sleep. He smiles at me, reassuring. Letting me know that this will all work out in the end, as long as we play it slowly. He stands from his chair, offering me his hand. I accept it gladly, shutting off the monitor as I rise from my own seat.
“We'll make it happen,” he says, guiding me out the door and back to our bedroom. “We made a promise. And I always keep my promises.”
* * *
Takamura Eiji,
I am not sure if you will recognize my name, or even know it to begin with. But this
is something that I must do, something that I must try. I need to know if you are
the one that I've been looking for. My name is Nakai Hanako, though you may know me
as Ikezawa Hanako. It has been about fifteen years since we last saw each other,
since you left after I told you about my pregnancy. Well... a lot has changed since
then. I've managed to make my own life, fallen in love with the man of my dreams,
and even started up a family. But there are still loose ends, things that need to be
fixed.
Yesterday was her fifteenth birthday. Your daughter's. She never had the chance to
meet you. She doesn't have a clue what you look like, and she doesn't even know your
name. She lived for three whole years before having something even close to a
father, when Hisao came into her life. I'm still grateful that he did, that he took
up the mantle that you refused to weather. But it's not my place to berate you; you
obviously wanted out, and I was too distraught to chase after you. And I'm happy
now. That's all that matters, isn't it?
For her birthday, we gave her a tanabata flag. She was given one wish, and we would
do our best to make it come true. She didn't even have to think about it. She wanted
only one thing: to meet you, to know where she came from. And this is me stepping
out, to try and make that wish come true. If you don't think you're up to the task,
that's fine. At the very least, I tried. But she does want to be given a chance. I
hope that you'll give it to her, because she's gone without a real father for long
enough.
A picture of her is attached, just so you can see how beautiful she's grown up to
be. If you don't respond, I'll take it as a no. But if you have a sliver of hope
like I do, then we'll make this happen. Not for my sake, but for her's.
- Hanako
I read over the short e-mail a few times, deliberating each word choice and sentence structure. I've never been much of a writer, and the situation only makes it harder. Even thinking about it all day at work proved fruitless, serving merely as a distraction from my appointments.
Hisao is sitting at the other computer, working on some of his grading before tomorrow. “Hisao,” I call to him, not budging from my sedentary position. “Can you come look at this for me?”
“Again?” he asks in response. His voice doesn't change, so he must still be at his desk. “Just send it, dear, I'm sure it's fine.”
“I just want to make sure I don't screw this up,” I answer with a sigh. “It's a big deal to her.”
A third voice chimes in, light and faintly masculine. “A big deal to who?”
I flip my head in a panic, fearing that Aki has walked in on us. But it's just Jirou, standing in the doorway with weary eyes. “Nothing, sweetie,” I say to him. “Isn't it past your bedtime?”
“Can't sleep,” he replies with a shrug. “And who's it a big deal to? You shouldn't keep secrets.”
Smart kid. Already keeping tabs on me for morals. “Your sister.” He cocks his head, and I beckon to come sit in my lap. I catch Hisao watching us from the corner of his eye. We've never explicitly told Jirou that Aki isn't his full sister, but I can't imagine him not at least suspecting it. They look alike, but not like full siblings. He claims a spot in my lap, and I spin to face away from the computer; I'd rather save that part for last.
“Jirou...” Dammit, how do I word this? It's almost like how I handled the puberty talk with Aki, as if that went over well. “Your sister... isn't actually your full sister.” He cranes his neck again, not quite sure what I'm getting at. “Hisao isn't her actual father.”
“Oh. I knew that.” Wait... you did? “She told me that a long time ago.”
“...Ah.” I think that suffices for a response. “Well... you know that birthday present of hers?” He nods. “She wished... for a way to meet her real dad.” I spin us around to look at the screen. “And we think we found him. So I'm writing an e-mail to see if we can arrange a meeting. Kind of like a family reunion.”
His eyes scan the screen. He probably doesn't know some of the words, but that's okay. He doesn't ask any questions, just taking in all the information that he can. When he looks up at me, a smile stretches across his face. “I like it.”
That's all the affirmation I need. I smile in turn and - with a hint of reluctance - click the send button. The progress bar loads and fills, and the 'Message sent' box pops up on the screen. Now... all we can do is wait. The hard part is over, and we've done all that we can do. It's in his hands now.
“Can I tell her?” he asks.
“Absolutely not! Now, back to bed, mister.”
* * *
The train ride to Nagoya is long. About three to four hours, estimated. Jirou has never been able to stay awake on lengthy travels, so we left him with his grandparents for the day. I brought a few books with me, just to have something to pass the time. Reading was one of those hobbies that I just couldn't give up. And, by how much of 'Dracula' he's devoured, Hisao couldn't, either.
Aki is a little less enthusiastic about it, but still enjoys it to some extent. She's been reading a lot of young adult fiction recently, mostly urban fantasy and historical fiction. It's not quite my cup of tea, but I don't expect her to have the same tastes that I do.
But she hasn't been reading the entire trip. She just sits to Hisao's left in our little train booth, glaring out the window as the countryside races by. There's so little of it left these days. I can understand her taking solace in the chance to just watch and think, figuring out what's going on in her head.
Today is the big day. The day that she will get to meet her father.
Eiji responded to my e-mail fairly quickly, confirming that he was the one I was looking for. I was surprised that he was so ready to accept another person into his life, but he seemed at least willing to give it a try. As I put it in the message, for her sake, not ours. Partially for his, though, since he's never met her. I just hope it all goes well.
“Hey, Mom?” Her voice catches me off guard, forcing me out of my literary trance. I look up; she hasn't moved, still fixated on the passing scenery. She must see me moving on her peripheral, because she doesn't wait for any acknowledgement. “You never told me what he was like.”
Hisao hasn't budged, probably because he can't hear us. He's started listening to soft, instrumental music while he reads. Says it calms his nerves. I could certainly use something like that right now. “Well...,” I start. “When I knew him, he was always a kind man. He treated me well, never imposed on me, and always knew how to cheer me up. Just... he was good to me. He was what I needed, a change in the world. A shining new face.” I glance at Hisao. He notices and smiles at me. I never told Aki why we didn't get together during high school. I'm not sure I ever will.
“What made him just decide to leave, then?” She finally looks me in the eye. “Was it something you did?” I never told her that, either.
“To be honest, I don't know.” I rest my book in my lap, cover side up, still open to my current page. My head hangs lower; it's still hard to talk about, even over a decade later. “He just... I woke up one morning, after I told him about you, and he was gone.”
She returns her attention to the window pane. Her eyebrows are slightly slanted, lips down-turned in a cold grimace. How much is she struggling? This seems to be turning into more than just her wanting to meet her father. Perhaps she's looking for some kind of self-identity, to fill a void in her life. I had thought that Hisao would be able to fill it; recently, I'm having doubts.
I go back to reading. It's a newer story, about the possibility of split timelines, with a single watchman overseeing the parallel universes. In each separate reality, the same man is with a different girl. I'm not very far into it: only two girls have been covered so far. The second has just died of pneumonia after a morning run in the rain.
I've barely found my spot before she interrupts again. “Mom.” She's shifted now, her hands squeezed between her thighs. Her lower lip quivers, her eyes shaking and threatening tears. She tries to find the words, her voice cracking in her stammers. “Is it okay to be scared?”
“Yes.” It's the first thing that comes to mind. Her head turns up, her back still hunched in poor posture. I can really see the water tugging at the corners of her eyes now. I stretch my hand across the booth, reaching for her. “This is a new experience for you. But you are strong, and you will know what to do.” I manage to pull a smile out of her, and she grips my hand tightly. It's a calm reassurance, a simple gesture to let her know that she is not alone in this. She never was, and she never will be.
She picks up her own book, mind calmed enough to read. The rest of the train ride passes uneventfully. The three of us just retreat into our reading, absorbed in the printed fantasies. After about another hour, we reach our destination: Nagoya Station. We pack up our belongings and depart the train.
Hisao flags down a taxi, and we tell him the address that Eiji gave me. It points to a small apartment complex on the edge of the city, not far from the train station. I take the seat in the back with Aki, letting Hisao have shotgun. The trip is short, passing in relative silence aside from the bantering in the front seat. I don't catch much of what they talk about.
We pull up into the complex's parking garage, the driver letting us out at the entrance. Hisao hands the man a few bills, and he speeds away.
Aki cranes her neck upward, staring at the high-rise. Apartment 304. Roughly sixty feet away from one of the great revelations of her life. She's shaking in her boots, literally, and I'm not convinced that it's due to the cold. Partially because she's dressed too warmly for that, partially because of what we talked about on the train.
I step forward, the half-scraped snow crunching beneath my boot. The sharp sound startles her, and she jerks her head over to look at me. I smile, and she puts one up, at least for my benefit. She reaches for my arm, taking a tight hold. Hisao grabs her other arm. “We're all in this together,” he encourages, glancing at his step-daughter with a smile. “One family.”
We ascend the staircase in unison. Aki's shaking intensifies, and the third floor dawns on us quickly. “You okay?” I ask her at the top of the flight.
She pauses, collecting her thoughts. “Yeah.”
I open the door to the third floor rise. The walkway is exposed to the outside, a bitter wind blowing across our faces. Great, now I'm shaking, too.
We pass the doors one by one: 301... 302... 303... Here. 304. The door itself is dark green, plain and devoid of any decoration outside of the golden numerals. I just stand there and stare at the door alongside my daughter. This is as monumental of a moment for me as it is for her: I'll be seeing her father again for the first time in a decade and a half. To say that I'm nervous is putting it lightly, and I can only imagine how much more anxious she is.
Our arms disjoin, placing her in front of the door, with Hisao and myself at either side. She inhales deeply, chilled oxygen filling her lungs before escaping in a drawn-out expulsion. Her hands are jittering slightly, though I'm not sure whether from the cold or anxiety. I know, love. I'm scared, too. I haven't seen this man in almost sixteen years now. Not since before you were born. But that's why we're here, isn't it? Because, no matter how hard he tries, Hisao will never be your real father.
And you want - and deserve - to know the truth.
She goes to knock on the door, but hesitates. Her hand falls back to her side, still trembling furiously. “I...,” she mutters. She looks at me, then back to the snow-covered concrete. “I can't do this, Mom.”
I place a hand on her shoulder, in hopes that she will find some reassurance. “Yes, you can, dear,” I say calmly. “You are not just some little girl anymore; you are a strong young woman. You had the courage to ask me about finding and meeting him. That-”
“But I'm not strong enough,” she snaps back through gritted teeth and clenched fists. “I am just some little girl to him. He's never even seen my face.” Her eyes lift up, already swollen red, dry patches streaking on her skin from the biting wind and her frustrated tears. “What if he pushes me away? What if he doesn't care?”
I never really had an example to follow on how to be a good mother. Thankfully, most of it comes naturally. I let her fall into my arms. Enveloped in my embrace, her sobs are muffled into my coat. My hand pats the back of her head, and she wraps her own arms around me tightly. “He will care,” I whisper. “I know this man. He will care.”
“Then why did he even leave in the first place?” Her voice is almost booming with chagrin in comparison to mine.
I look at Hisao. His eyebrows slant downward, lips curled into a taut frown and slightly agape. I close my eyes, searching for the words. “I... I don't know, sweetheart.” I push her away slightly to wipe the moisture from her cheeks. My memories of childhood are faint, distorted. But in her, I see a lot of what I saw when I was just a child. Of what I imagined I would be before the fire, before the scarring. I've always striven to give her everything that I never had. Now is no different.
I smile as I speak. “But I do know that, whatever happens, you will still have a family - and a dad - who loves you very much.”
She turns to Hisao, who has replaced his worrisome look with a genuine smile. “She's right, you know.” He keeps his voice low and calm, hoping that it will spread to her. His arm falls around her neck. “We'll always be here. No matter what happens beyond this door, you will have our support.”
A hint of light returns to her eyes. There is hope there, however small. It's the same gleeful hope that I had all those years ago. I can say that I know this man as often as I want, but I am as terrified of the possibilities as she is. The only way we will know is to find out first-hand.
She raps on the door, her knocks echoing through the wooden surface. She reaches for my hand, and I offer it to her, giving hers a tight squeeze. “I'm here for you, Aki,” I whisper. “We're here for you. You can do this.”
Her next breath is sharp, coarse, and quick. One to relieve the tension, to somehow make this easier. It doesn't do anything actually useful, but the placebo effect is indeed powerful. Finally, she whispers, “I know.”
The tumblers in the lock twist and turn, and the door clicks open. The slab of wood comes ajar, revealing a new face: a woman around her lower thirties, with light brown hair and bright blue eyes. She looks foreign, American perhaps? “Can I help you?” she asks. Her Japanese is fine, but the accent definitely gives away an American heritage.
Aki stands there, like a deer in the headlights. I pat her on the small of her back, urging her to make the first move. “Um... I-is this the Takamura household?”
“Yes. And who might you be?” She leans against the wall, her foot tapping impatiently for a response.
“I-I'm Ikezawa Aki. Is... Is Eiji-san home?” The woman frowns, as if we've insulted her or her family. She turns around, walking into the depths of the apartment, leaving the door open. I assume that we are welcome inside, else she would have closed it.
Her voice echoes through the shallow hallways. “Eiji! You have visitors!”
Aki looks around at the family room, while Hisao just stands behind us quietly. I stop in the middle of the hallway, admiring a few pictures hanging on the walls. This painting... it seems familiar. I think this is one that I got him for his birthday so long ago. Yes, it is. It's a monarch butterfly, emerging from its coccoon after weeks in stasis. He always said that I was like one of those butterflies, after I told him about my past.
“Hello.” The voice sounds as if I had heard it yesterday. He hasn't changed a bit. “Can I help you fine folks?”
I turn my head, and his eyes immediately rush to my scars. The definitive trait. They've worn down over the years, from a spidery, fractured surface into a more solid, leathery discoloring. But it's enough for him to pinpoint just who I am. “H-Hanako...” I nod. Putting the pieces together, he turns to the girl standing in his living room. “And... and this must be...”
Aki shudders, the tears that she's held back all day finally coming forth. “I-Ikezawa Aki.” She steps forward, slowly. “Your... your daughter.”
He does nothing. Frozen in place, standing completely still in time. The woman from before has rejoined us, leaned against the door frame with one leg crossed over the other. We're all out of place: two adults in sweatpants and hoodies, and an average family in full winter clothing. But it feels right, as if we should be here. As if this is some grand reunion, two worlds brought back together.
He slowly outstretches his arms, warm and welcoming. She takes the plunge, falling into his embrace, gripping at the fabric of his sweatshirt and basking in the moment. She has found her source, the second half of her beginning. Her wish came true, just as we promised.
“W-why did you leave?” Her voice is quiet, muffled into his clothing. “Why did you l-leave Mom like that?”
He rests his chin on her head. “Don't worry about that right now,” he says calmly. “Just... can we just enjoy the moment for now?” It looks like her arms wrap around him tighter. She seems content to let that happen, at least for now. So many questions... but the answers can come later. There will be plenty of time for those.
The woman comes up to Eiji, lightly grazing his shoulder. I'm presuming that she is his wife by now. “Dear, why don't we go sit down? You have some catching up to do.”
He gently pushes Aki away from him. “Does that sound okay, Miss Ikezawa?” She nods, sniffling her nose. His hand meets her cheek, wiping away at a stream of moisture. His eyes threaten their own tears. “Dry those tears.” He's straining to stifle the crack in his voice. “You shouldn't cry right now.”
“Then what about you?” she replies. He reaches for his own cheek, finding it as wet as hers.
“Guess I should take my own advice, huh?” he chuckles.
Hisao reaches for my shoulder, bringing his mouth close to my ear. “This going as well as you planned?” he whispers.
“A little better, actually.” To be honest, I half-expected him to be a jerk to her. I'm glad he's being so welcoming to the idea. Maybe this was a good idea after all.
“That's good to know. Though I'm curious about what you expected.” The look I give him oozes something along the lines of 'You doubted me?' He takes it for what it is. A flick of his head motions toward the party of interest. “Should we sit down and talk with them?”
A simple nod is a good enough response. I come up to the reunited pair, taking Aki's hand. “Come on, dear,” I say quietly. “Let's take them up on their offer.”
We take a short walk into their small kitchen. Despite its size, there is enough seating for all of us. I guess they throw a lot of get-togethers for their friends? Our hosts stand behind the snack bar. “First things first,” Eiji begins. “This is my wife, Elizabeth.” American, just as I suspected.
She bows. “Pleased to meet you all. And, please, Liz is fine.”
Hisao finally speaks. “I'm curious, how did the two of you meet?” He crosses his legs, a pose that he always takes when thinking. “She seems much younger, not to mention the foreign part of it.”
“I was an exchange student,” Liz answers. “I met Eiji, we got married, and I decided to stay. It was as simple as that.” She's a tad rude, but that might just be her concise manner of speaking.
“And you don't have any children of your own?” Hisao continues.
Her expression darkens for an instant. “No, we decided not to have children.” Hisao looks like he wants to ask why, but I shut him up with a quick glare. It's clearly a touchy subject. Thankfully, he gets the hint.
“What about you two?” Eiji remarks. “You have any of your own?”
“One,” Hisao responds. “A son, he's with his grandparents for the day.”
“So...,” Eiji starts again, his voice and eyes now cleared of their earlier emotion, “Ikezawa Aki. I'm sure you know plenty about me, but I don't know anything about you.”
“N-not really.” That stammer is really showing through now. I knew she had inherited some of the timidness, but I didn't expect this much. “Mom never t-talked much about you.”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “Really?”
I glare at him - it feels like a glare, at least. “Yes, really.”
“Well,” he motions back to our daughter. “Do you have any questions for me?”
She shrugs her shoulders, stiff-arming her hands in her lap. “J-just the one from earlier.” He falls silent, knowing full well which one she's referring to. “Why did you leave Mom?” It's almost a proxy question; I'm still curious, too, now that she brings it up. It was the morning after I had told him that I was pregnant. He had disappeared from our bed, just out of the blue. The note he left was simple, straightforward... I had no room nor time to question.
He folds his arms over his chest, blowing a deep breath through pursed lips. “It's... a long story.” She bats her eyes, as if to say 'I have time.' We all do.
Hisao instigates it. “I'd like to hear it.”
Eiji hangs his head, breathing deeply before starting the story. “Almost sixteen years ago now, your mother called me during work. She said that she had wonderful news when I got home, that it couldn't be said over the phone. I wondered for the rest of the day what it could have been: found a job after graduation or something like that. I got off work and sped home as fast as I could, and she told me the news. That she was pregnant.”
His gaze turns up from the floor. “At that point in my life, I... I honestly wasn't sure if I was ready to have kids. I laid awake in bed that night in a cold sweat, thinking about what could possibly go wrong, trying to figure out if I was willing to make a committment. And I decided that I wasn't.” A pause, and a sigh. “So... I left. Looking back, it wasn't exactly the best decision, but...” He pauses again, clenching his fists on the bar. “By the time I was gone, I felt locked into it. Like I couldn't go back.”
I decide to jump into the conversation. “You could have always come back.” This catches him off guard, and he glances upward in shock. “All I wanted was for her to have everything that I never did: a family. A real, healthy, breathing family. You... You put us through a lot of heartache for a few years.”
“I know.” His voice returns to that gravelly, cracking tone from before. “And I am deeply sorry for that. It was wrong of me. I would change it in a heartbeat.” I know that he would, but I'm still happy with the way things turned out.
Hisao steps up again. “What's done is done. Nothing we can do about that.”
Eiji nods, then moves to his daughter. “Aki.” She turns her attention to him. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”
Liz puts a hand on his shoulder, as if to tell him that he doesn't have to do this. And he really doesn't. The damage was done, it can't be fully healed. We've patched it up, and she's already gotten her wish. All she wants from you is to know that you love her. You've shown that already, in a single moment.
“I...” Quiet, slow speech. “I just want you to be there. That's all I need.”
A low chuckle erupts from the bottom of Eiji's throat. “I guess I have a lot of birthdays to catch up on, don't I?” He's smiling now. It suits him. It brings back the memories. And even though seeing him reminds me of how distraught I was back then, I can't help but feel... happy.
She laughs in turn. “Yeah, you do.”
“Well, I'd better get started.” He hunches over behind the snack bar, looking right into her eyes. He's like some kind of Santa Claus, wanting to grant the wishes of children everywhere. “What can I get for you this year?”
“You've already gotten it for me.” I can see the corners of her smile etching into the dimples on her cheeks. He arches an eyebrow again, curious about her implication. “My real father.” Her smile spreads to him, and then to Liz, and then to everyone else in the room. He reaches across the snack bar to stroke her cheek again.
Liz looks at me. “How long was your train ride?”
“About three hours,” I respond quickly. “Why?”
Her hands fly to her face, cupping each side. “We'd best let you go, then, if you want to get home at a reasonable hour.” Given that tomorrow is Monday, that's probably not a bad idea.
“I hate to interrupt the moment,” Hisao interjects. “But she's right. It's going to be getting late soon, and we have kids to get in bed.” He stands from his chair. “Hanako, Aki, shall we?”
Aki nods, and I agree with her. We all exit the kitchen, our family seen out the front door. Before I leave, Eiji grabs my attention. “Hanako.” I give it to him, if only for a moment. “Can I talk to you for just a minute?”
I turn back to Hisao, and he nods approvingly. “I'll watch the kids. Take your time.”
I keep the door open, just for personal reasons. The rest of my family rounds the corner, standing and waiting for me. Liz has left as well. It's just Eiji and I, almost as it was so long ago. A solemn glaze has fallen over his face; his skin looks pale, his hair grayer than it was before.
“Hanako...,” he says, almost in a whisper. “I do want to make it up to her.”
“You already have.” He doesn't seem accepting of that response. “Just by showing her that you care, you've done a lot to help her.”
“No... that's not what I mean.” I cock my head, unsure of where he's going with this. “Liz and I... we didn't decide to not have kids. She just can't have them.” So that's what this is about. He sees this as his only chance to have a legacy.
“So... she's just your last respite at having a child?”
He grimaces at me, looking away. “I don't think so. But it's something to do with it.” He leans against the wall again. His skin gets closer and closer to white by the second. “I don't have a lot of time left.”
Curiosity again. “...a lot of time?”
We step out onto the balcony, and puts his hands on the rail. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small white carton. He removes a cigarette from the package, bringing it to his lips and igniting it with a disposable lighter. It twirls around in his lips, and he blows a stream of smoke from his mouth.
He pulls the cigarette into his fingers, flicking away the ashes. “I started up on this not long after I left.” Another deep inhale, another breath of smog, and another flick of the end. “It's... basically been the death of me.” He looks at me sternly. Determination dominates his face. “Literally. I was diagnosed with lung cancer a few years ago.”
“I'm... I'm sorry.” I honestly don't know what else to say.
“Don't be. It's my fault, not yours.” He takes puffs of tobacco in between statements. “The doctors said I was in remission about a year after the initial diagnosis. It came back a few months ago, more violent than ever.” He grips the rail tighter, like he wants to crush it under the weight of his hands. “It spread too fast to treat. So now I'm on my last leg.”
I can't really respond. There aren't words for a situation like this. “What do you want me to do?”
He keeps his eyes on the horizon. “I don't expect you to do anything. I don't want you to be sorry for me.” Turning skyward, he snickers. “It's funny. You had great timing, for her to go looking for me just before I have to leave for good.”
“I guess she had someone looking out for her, huh?” Spirituality isn't really my thing, but it feels fitting now. Talking to someone with a death sentence is almost sobering. A grim reminder of how little time we have in life.
“You could put it that way.” He's finished his cigarette by now, and he tosses it over the edge of the patio. “Are you going to tell her?”
Can I get away with not telling her? “She'll find out eventually.”
His lips curl into a frown. It's not a pleasing answer, but it's the right answer. “Yeah, she will. Just... make sure she doesn't hate me, okay?”
“I'll do my best.” He smiles at that one, and reaches to hug me. I grant it to him. This isn't some sap story of two lovers reunited. This is two people, caught in a sticky situation and trying to make the best of it. Trying to find peace in the world, to grant the last wish of a girl who never really had it all.
He thanks me for the talk, and for coming out to see them. Then, he heads back inside, and I rejoin my family on the ground floor. Hisao has already flagged down another taxi to take us back to the train station.
Hisao seems to notice the weight I'm carrying. “Hana?” he starts as we load into the car. “Something wrong?”
I put up a fake smile. “Nothing, dear. I'll tell you later.”
* * *
“He always said that he liked Western funerals better.” Liz wears a more traditional European funeral garb: a flowing black dress with a darkened veil. “The thought of burial, of a preacher giving a eulogy....” Her lower lip quivers, in turn with her hands. “I just never thought I'd actually see him go like this.”
I put my hand on her shoulder. “I loved him once. I know how it feels to be scared of losing someone.” It's a simple reassurance, something to just ease the pain. I lived that way for years until Hisao's medication finally had his arrhythmia under control.
“Still... It just...” She's digging for the words, proper expression for the emotion bubbling inside her. “It's real now, you know?”
“I understand.” She falls into my embrace, sobbing heavily. I make sure to face her away from her husband's coffin. “We'll be here for you.”
Aki stands beside the casket, just staring at the man's face. She only knew him for a few months before he left again. For good this time, as he put it. I told her about his lung cancer the day after we went to see him. She didn't take it well. Only a day and he was already being taken away from her again. It wasn't fair. Life never is, she'll learn that quickly.
She's carrying a small memento with her: a slip of parchment, hanging from a bamboo shaft. A few characters are scrawled on it. “To find my real father,” it says. The same Tanabata flag that we gave her for her birthday, the same one that sparked all of this madness. A quest for her to find where she came from, only to be ultimately disappointed.
“Be thankful that you knew him,” Hisao says over her shoulder. “Your mother never talked badly of him. He always sounded like a good man.” And, aside from the one incident, he was. Good enough to father a child, for me to even consider that possibility.
Her own tears are stifled, held back by some inner motive to stay strong. I remember when I was like her, not wanting to be treated like a child. I've given her the distance that she wants, but I'll be here if she needs me.
A man in a suit walks up to the casket. The wrinkles on his face and gray of his hair display an elderly, distinguished demeanor. He exudes authority, a man of faith and religion. “Ma'am,” he says to Aki. “It's time to close the casket. We need to start the funeral.”
She doesn't acknowledge him, but she nods. “Just one more minute.” He walks away, granting her one last wish.
She brings her flag to eye level, letting it spin in front of her face. After a deep breath, she lays the flag across Eiji's lifeless chest, sliding his hands over the parchment. Her lips meet his forehead. Though she did not know him well, he will always hold a place in her heart. He will hold a place in all of our hearts.
I come up behind her, just to make sure that she's okay. She answers my question before I ask it. “I'm done.” Our arms link one more time. We take our seats in the front row, along with Hisao, Jirou, and Liz. Though we have lost a member of our family, we have gained another. We're dysfunctional, with a crazy story that many wouldn't believe. It goes back farther than the fifteen years Aki's been alive.
I think back to July 10, 2007. My 18th birthday. The day that Hisao came into my room, when we silently established a friendship over a relationship. Eighteen years later, we have something now. We have our own path. Something we can follow to the end, through all the trials that life may throw at us.
The preacher comes to the front, closing the casket. He stands before the crowd, a plastic smile on his face, the same one he has no doubt put up countless times before. A quick adjustment of his tie, a scattering of notes on his podium, and he begins.
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Today, we come together to celebrate a life. The life of a husband, a son, and...” Aki locks eyes with him. “And a father.”
(Although it wasn't as impressive as The Kilt .-.)