Chapter 17: Ch. 17 Momentum

Life has a way of always moving and, when I stopped in place years ago, it felt like I was going backwards. Faster and faster and faster until there was no hope of catching up. Alone in the past, kept company by the memories I could never forget, no matter how much I wished to.

How wrong I’d been about that. Even when I stood still, the earth still spun and circled the sun.

Inertia wasn’t about being stuck in the same place, but being unwilling to change your course, to take that risk. Of course, taking risks wasn’t easy for everyone. It was harder to convince yourself to change than to stay the same. This you was the one who could cope with the life you currently led. This was the you who had made it this far.

But can this you take you even farther, or take you to the place you want?

That was the constant struggle I had with myself. To become the person Mi and Himawari needed, I had to change. I wanted to change. The old me was who I’d needed to be to survive, and now I wanted to be the me who flourished.

I wanted them to flourish.

Unfortunately, a good therapist wasn’t going to see them without their parents permission—and would probably be bound by law to report the abuse they’d suffered. It seemed like the only “safe” option was waiting until Mi turned eighteen, then she could “adopt” Himawari and what happened to their parents wouldn’t be an issue. Of course, once I was more settled, I wanted to talk to professionals, but, until then….

I couldn’t be their therapist, only ease their burden.

We settled into our new routine and it seemed like everyone enjoyed it, a happy, happy month passing.

Then one afternoon, Himawari stopped me from standing up, saying, “I want to make it myself, so you can’t help, okay?”

I smiled, but stood up anyway. “Sure. I’m only going to watch in case you hurt yourself, okay?”

Her expression turned from stern to slightly stunned, a change that was, unfortunately, common when I expressed concern for her. However, she was getting used to it and quickly regained her composure. “Sure.”

Step by step, she prepared Mi’s precious karaage and fried potato slices, and I watched, making sure she didn’t endanger herself. I couldn’t find a Mi memory about Himawari burning herself or anything, so I trusted her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still doing something dangerous. If anything went wrong, I wanted to be there for her. Especially since we were deep-frying more than shallow-frying now.

Well, not that anything went wrong. Even if it never did, though, I was happy to be there for her if she needed me.

She stared at the food she’d made. “Good job,” I said, getting the urge to pat her head like I did at least once every visit, resisting it like always.

Turning around, she showed me a wonderful smile. Then, after looking at me for a second, she darted in for a hug—the quickest hug I’d ever seen, but a hug nonetheless. “Thank you for teaching me. I’m definitely better than Sakura-san now,” she said, grinning.

I chuckled and, since she seemed okay with physical contact, asked her, “May I pat your head?”

Oh she scowled at that, mouth puckered up in a pout. “I’m not a dog,” she mumbled, looking away.

Holding back another laugh, I said, “My apologies.”

A long second passed, then she mumbled, “I didn’t say you can’t.”

“Then, are you saying I can? It’s your body, your choice,” I softly said, trying to make clear to her I wasn’t teasing.

For another long second, she sort of fidgeted and avoided looking at me. Eventually, she nodded. Of course, I didn’t waste a second, hand coming up and giving her head a gentle rub.

“Good job,” I said again.

She let out a little giggle and it was just the cutest thing in the world.

“Let’s call the others so they can see how good you did,” I said.

“Yeah,” she mumbled.

From there, it was like any other night, only with more praising of Himawari. We all ate, Himawari and I fiddled with plasticine before watching some anime her friend recommended, then it was time for her to go to bed.

Himawari was a good girl and, even though we all could tell she always wanted Mi to put her to bed, she’d usually let Kiko do it unless her day had been rough. Tonight, she was so happy she practically dragged Kiko away.

Leaving Mi and me alone.

“How was school, and how are things with Sakura?” I asked in English, leaning in with a conspiratorial smile.

She laughed at me. “You always ask that,” she said, going a bit shy as she then muttered, “You’re as bad as Nat.”

I kept smiling at her until she looked away, then went all the way in to kiss the top of her head. She squirmed a moment before giving me a hug. Longer than Himawari’s, but still brief.

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t mess things up with Sakura for you,” I said lightly.

Ducking her head, she chuckled. “I would’ve told her the same thing. No, I probably would’ve messed it up…. It’s funny, she actually apologised to me because, well, she knows I’m… I can’t date like normal, but she just felt so guilty and….”

“She’s a good girl,” I said, stroking her head.

“Yeah, the best,” she whispered.

Although I stopped after a few seconds, the mood lingered. A time for speaking honestly and openly. So I told her, “Just so you know, none of this is your fault.”

Awkwardly laughing, she said, “What do you mean?”

She knew. “It’s not your fault your mum died, it’s not your fault your dad emotionally abandoned you, and it’s not your fault your step-mother abused Hime and you,” I said, hard to keep my voice from cracking with the pain that came from remembering, remembering as if I’d been through it all.

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“I know that,” she mumbled.

“But do you believe it?” I asked, holding her hand, squeezing it.

She squeezed my hand back so hard it hurt, but I didn’t wince.

“It’s not your fault, and you’re so strong for coming this far,” I whispered.

She couldn’t look at me, tears in her eyes. Her mouth moved a couple of times before she gave up and just hugged me, burying her face against my arm.

“I’m so proud of you, and I love you,” I whispered, rubbing circles on her back as she shook, silent tears staining my shirt.

Something I knew too well was the fear of crying aloud yet no one coming. Better to be silent, to hide the pain, lest even that last shred of hope was lost.

No more.

“I’m here for you, Toyama-san’s here for you, Sakura and Nat are here for you, and even Hime is. We all love you and want you to be happy,” I said.

By the time Kiko came back from putting Himawari to sleep, Mi was calm again, albeit snuggled up against me. Hearing her, I looked over and our eyes met and, after a second, she burst into a smile, softly shaking her head. I wondered why until I looked and… Mi had fallen asleep.

“Poor girl,” I whispered to Kiko.

Softly nodding, her smile turned sad.

Although neither of us were in a rush to leave, there wasn’t a point to keeping Mi up. So we gently woke her and made her brush her teeth before going on our way. Just that, as we were saying goodbye, Mi gave me a hug and whispered, “I love you too.”

Then the big surprise came: she also hugged Kiko.

The walk back to her car was quiet, turning silent once inside, the murmuring background noise muffled to nothing. If I didn’t think she’d been surprised by the hug before, that she hadn’t started the car after a minute of sitting there told me how shocked she was.

“She… thanked me and said she loved me,” Kiko whispered.

“You’ve done a lot for her.” Reaching over, I patted her hand on the steering wheel. “Far more than a teacher has to.”

She sat there for a moment, then leaned forwards, lowering her head and rubbing her eyes. “I’m still so lost,” she mumbled.

“I don’t think you’re lost. I think you’re exactly where you want and need to be,” I said, spurred by a need to reassure her, the strain in her voice scratching at my heart. “And I’m here with you, so you’ll be okay.”

She snorted and followed with breathless laughs into a deep sigh. Giving her face a last rub, she sat up, eyes forward. “I see why Mi-chan needed you,” she said.

A spike of panic ran through me until I realised she had no way of knowing the truth. Obviously, she meant it more generally.

While I worked through that, she started the car, my gaze soon drawn to the twilight sights. Eventually, she continued. “I didn’t feel like I was doing anything to help. I didn’t feel like I was doing enough. I had so many doubts, but couldn’t do nothing, and even then I wondered if I was only doing it for myself.”

She blinked a few times, fortunately not tearing up to the point it was dangerous to drive.

“Then she changed and it was because of you and I felt… even more useless. I wondered if I was being helpful,” she said, her voice wavering. Finally too much, she pulled over.

I gave her a second to see if she would continue, then reached over and squeezed her hand. “She wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”

To my surprise and delight, she turned her hand over to squeeze mine back. Not so soft hands, had written so many words, handled so many papers. She probably had more on her mind than hand creams back when she was a teen and that carried on to now.

Even though I knew it wasn’t the time, I couldn’t help myself, stroked her palm with my thumb. I thought I felt her tense, so quickly stopped, but a moment later she shifted her hand around so our fingers slid between each other’s.

My heart stopped, entire body frozen in disbelief and, even when it sunk in, I could only believe I was misunderstanding. A friendly gesture.

“We make a good pair,” she whispered, then took her hand back.

Ambiguous.

What felt like a moment later, we were outside my new place, my mind still paralysed by what she’d meant, afraid to hope and yet hoping was so easy.

“Goodnight, Millie,” she said, smiling.

I spent all evening reliving that moment, trying to read into what she’d done and said and came up empty every time. Well, the answer I didn’t want to accept was that she’d meant it in a friendly way.

Love was a dangerous thing.

If left to my thoughts, I might have spent hours laying in bed, pondering the meaning. Fortunately, a message eventually broke me out of my stupor.

A small message from Kiko that simply read: “Sweet dreams.” In English.

Grinning at my phone, I fought the urge to hug it, every bit a teenager in love cherishing a message from her crush. At least for tonight, a bit of hope couldn’t hurt.

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