Chapter 21: Epilogue

I stood by the door, heart racing. Months and so many tears led to this moment. Muffled chatter, sounding happy, footsteps ever closer, the grating of a key in the lock and the click of the door opening.

Kiko stood there, Himawari holding her hand, Mi a step behind. Taller than I remembered her.

For a moment, I just stared at the girls and they stared back, then I looked at Kiko. It had only been a few hours since I’d last seen her, yet even staring for a few hours wasn’t enough for me. Especially now, standing with the girls. It didn’t look at all strange despite none of them being related. A naturalness, a comfort, a small happiness that couldn’t be described.

Kiko had kept her promise. Through it all, she had been there for the girls, and now she brought them home. She made my dream real—our dream.

Perhaps we stared for too long because the girls giggled and, when I looked, I saw them grinning at each other before giving Kiko a gentle push forwards. I was confused for a second, then saw the look in Kiko’s eye and knew what was coming.

Her hand on my cheek, my eyes fluttered closed, heart pounding until I felt her lips on mine. I tried not to cry. I didn’t succeed, but I tried. “Thank you,” I mouthed into our kiss, hoping she understood.

Maybe she did, her hand stroking my cheek.

As emotional as we were, our greeting kiss didn’t linger much longer than usual, Kiko maybe a little shy. Pulling back, she said, “Tadaima,” and gave me the sweetest smile.

Himawari and Mi quickly said, “Tadaima,” too.

“Okaeri,” I said to her, then again to Himawari, and finally to Mi. For good measure, I also said it in English: “Welcome home.”

I lowered myself and looked at Himawari. Before I could even raise my arms, she ran into me, holding me tightly.

“There, there,” I whispered, rubbing circles on her back. “You’re home now.”

She sniffled, loud in my ear with her face buried in my shoulder. Looking up, I caught Mi’s eye and, with a little wave, she joined our hug. Under the two of them, I could barely keep my balance.

Once I felt Himawari relax, I kissed the top of her head, then Mi’s forehead. “Okaeri,” I said again. Wanted to say it over and over and over again.

Feeling another cry coming, I took a deep breath, then stood up and gestured for them to follow. “Come see your rooms.”

It wasn’t a huge house, but bigger than their old one, four rooms upstairs. We went to Himawari’s room first and it was basically empty. Why? Well: “Ready to paint?” I asked.

Oh, she had the biggest grin, cheeks all puffed up. Before she could dart off, Kiko held her shoulders. “Apron first.”

“’Kay, mama,” she said, plucking one of the disposable aprons on her way to the paint cans.

Under her breath, I heard Kiko mutter, “This is going to get messy.”

I chuckled, idly nodding in agreement.

While Mi’s room also needed painting, she opted to help Himawari first, donning an apron as well and taking up a roller. Kiko and I had wiped down the walls and all that prep work, so all they had to do was put on a few layers of paint. Yellow, Himawari chose, a shade like sunflower petals. Very suitable since that was what her name meant. She’d also picked out a bunch of posters to put up, most of them from the anime she and her friend loved.

Incidentally, the shade of pink Mi had chosen was named after cherry blossoms—sakura.

Watching the girls get stuck in, my heart melted. Kiko and I had discussed things like going to a fancy restaurant or a theme park, but, no, this was perfect. They were making this their home.

A fresh start.

Just as they were finishing up the first layer, the doorbell rang. Not short of expected visitors, I hurried back down while Kiko sorted the kids out. Our kids.

“Yes, who is it?” I loudly asked, reaching the door.

It opened to show not just Sakura and Natalie, but Natalie’s girlfriend too.

“Come in, come in, the girls will just be a moment,” I said, ushering them through to the lounge, handing out their house slippers. Well, Sakura and Natalie had their own ones, Dory having to make do with guest slippers. (If she was going to be a frequent guest, we’d definitely need to get her her own pair too.)

In the lounge, there were three couches and plenty of throw cushions, such gatherings something we planned on having often.

“Can I get anything? Drinks? Snacks?” I asked, excitement bubbling over again. Sakura and Natalie giggled, I guessed familiar enough with me to be comfortable. My gaze drifting over to Dory, she just shook her head, then snuggled closer to Natalie. “Good to see you again. I didn’t get to ask last time, but do you prefer Chidori-chan or Dory, or something else?” I asked.

“Dory’s fine,” she said—in English.

I smiled, nodding. “I’m Millie, no honorific necessary,” I said.

She bowed her head and, back to Japanese, said, “A pleasure to meet you, Millie-san.”

I tried not to laugh, so it took me a moment to reply. “You too.”

Our little back-and-forth had given the girls time to clean up, their footsteps making a beat down the stairs. Wasn’t it just the funniest thing to see Himawari rush ahead, only to then freeze when she saw Dory, switching over to shy mode.

Some things changed, others didn’t—not so quickly.

Our guests had their congratulations to give, hugs aplenty. Kiko and I stayed out of it, letting them have this time to themselves, preparing in the kitchen instead. The last months hadn’t been spent idle, now capable of many more recipes and healthier recipes at that. Fried food wasn’t exactly the ideal diet for growing children.

That said, today was a day to celebrate, so the menu was on the indulgent side. Plenty of vegetables, but covering them in batter and deep-frying them maybe made them a little less healthy….

For now, green tea and dango—little balls of rice dough, soft and chewy, but not much flavour, so I had some sauces prepared. Red bean paste, (sweet) soy sauce, strawberry sauce, honey too. Wanted to make sure all our guests had something they liked.

I’d made the “dough” earlier, so it only took a couple of minutes to boil them. Cooked and cooled and skewered (Kiko’s job), then I brought out the tray, all the little jugs rattling as I went.

You are reading story One Man’s Heaven, One Woman’s Hell at novel35.com

“Ooh, did you make these?” Natalie asked, eyes glued to the skewers.

“Yes. Something to keep me busy while I waited for the girls to come back,” I said.

She stuffed one in, not even bothering with a sauce, and chewed it up quick. “I used to make them with my mum when I was little,” she said.

I couldn’t help but look at Himawari hearing that, and she looked back, breaking into a sweet smile.

Just after the girls went through a skewer each and their cup of tea, the doorbell rang again. Still bursting with giddiness at having the girls home, I beat Kiko, up to my feet in a flash. “I’ll get it,” I said.

“You’ll get it,” she said, humour in her voice.

Walking over, I heard the muffled sound of a young girl chattering. It very much reminded me of Himawari when she got going and so I suspected I knew who our visitors were. Sure enough, opening the door, Nana-chan and her mother stood there.

And Nana instantly stopped talking, hiding behind her mother while staring at the floor.

I could’ve laughed, but that wouldn’t have been polite, so instead said a quick hello before turning around and shouting, “Hime-chan, Nana-chan’s here!”

There was a second, then quick footsteps pattered through, Himawari skidding as she came out the lounge.

“How about you show her the dango?” I said to her, then turned around to Nana’s mother. “Excuse me, we made dango to celebrate—is it okay for Nana-chan to have some?”

“Oh she would love that, wouldn’t you?” she said, trying to push Nana forwards.

What was much more successful was Himawari walking over and grabbing Nana’s hand. She didn’t exactly drag her friend, but Nana went with her (wearing her house slippers), Himawari already talking about painting her room together.

This time, I did softly laugh. Such a different side to her I’d never seen before. Similar to her cheekiness with Sakura, similar to her enthusiasm talking to me about Nana, but not the same.

“Don’t they just get on so well?” Nana’s mother said, letting out a sigh. “She’s so shy, I’m glad she has a friend like Himawari-chan.”

I nodded along, then asked her, “Can I get you a green tea?”

“Oh, I would love a cup,” she said, shuffling out of her shoes and into the guest slippers. A good thing we had so many.

On the way through, I stopped by the lounge to suggest the other girls help Mi with painting her room, which they immediately agreed to, Dory stuffing her last dango into her mouth. I knew teenagers were never not hungry.

It didn’t escape my notice how Sakura pinched Mi’s cuff, only for Mi to hold her hand. Things were going well.

After Kiko helped Himawari and Nana with the dangos, she accompanied them upstairs for more painting. Twelve was a responsible age, but not always a great age for thinking through the consequences—paint could have very stubborn consequences.

Which left me and Nana’s mother, Nakamura-san, to chat. Oh did she have a lot to say.

“I’ve heard a lot about you from Himawari-chan,” she said, a constant wrinkle between her brows that made me think she wasn’t wearing her glasses. “You’re awfully sweet to the girls considering the circumstances—how long have you known Toyama-san?”

“Oh, a few months?” I said, politely smiling. “I met her shortly after coming here for work and we just clicked.”

She nodded along, still looking overly concerned. “Well, Himawari-chan just adores you. If I didn’t know better, I would think you’re the one adopting her,” she said, ending with a little laugh.

“I would if I could.”

The chat carried on for a while, nothing too deep, but I imagined she would want to know me better if Nana was going to be visiting, so I answered nicely. Besides, I didn’t get the impression she disliked me. Something I’d unfortunately run into a lot was xenophobia. Polite xenophobia, the kind where they kept a certain distance, maybe assumed I was less capable (which could have also been misogyny, hard to tell). Anyway, she didn’t seem to mind me being a foreigner, even curious about my old life in London. Perhaps her and Kiko would get on well.

Our conversation eventually ended at the sound of footsteps down the stairs, both of us turning to the doorway in time to see Kiko step through, a splodge of paint on her face.

I bit my lip, but couldn’t keep away the smile. “Oh dear, do you want me to help?” I asked.

“Please,” she said, bowing her head slightly.

Nakamura burst into a giggle at that. I turned to her with a confused look and she quickly switched to an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, but you two sounded just like a couple there,” she said.

“Is that so?” I said, hiding my thoughts behind a polite smile.

I went upstairs with Kiko and rummaged through our makeup drawer, thinking makeup remover was practically the same as paint thinner.

“Looks like it works,” I muttered, carefully rubbing her cheek.

She hummed a note.

A little awkwardness hung in the air from what Nakamura had said, but I focused on the paint for now. Once it was almost gone, I said, “We share a bed, kiss each other, and now we have kids together. If I didn’t know better, I would think we’re a couple too.”

Kiko broke, trying to stay still while her body shook in silent laughter. Eventually, she started to calm down, so I kissed her.

“I love you, and I love our family,” I said, hand idly stroking her cheek.

“Me too,” she whispered.