Chapter 23: New Year Special

New Year’s Eve started early, at least for me, Kiko, and Himawari. Mi had other plans and so we left her to sleep, trying to be quiet with our preparations. The Christmas decorations came down, floors swept, rugs beaten, counters wiped, even the indoor slippers getting a run through the washing machine.

After that, the food preparations began—and were shortly interrupted by the doorbell.

“I’ll get it!” Himawari said, already racing off.

I smiled, covering the rice before following her through. Sure enough, door already open, she was chatting to Nana-chan, Nana’s mother watching with a smile of her own. Once she noticed me coming over, she gave a small wave.

“I’ll pick her up around eight?” she asked in Japanese, her tone a little more casual every time Nana visited.

“Sure,” I replied.

While Nana was still shy around me, we all coped pretty well by keeping Himawari in the middle and today was no different, Nana dragged to the kitchen. Before I followed them through, I spotted Kiko poking her head out at the top of the stairs. Our eyes meeting, I tapped my nose and, a second later, she tapped her nose, ducking her head.

Still so sweet.

By the time I joined them, Himawari had Nana in an apron, hair tied, sleeves rolled up. Oh they were so cute together, I often just stood back and watched their antics.

However, today wasn’t a day I could do that.

“Come on, Millie-san,” Himawari said, beckoning me over.

Smiling, I took my place on Himawari’s other side.

The plan for today was something fun. We began by preparing some glutinous rice (I thought of it as sticky rice) and, while that soaked and steamed, we started on lunch. After a few more times, most of the girls had come to like octopus filling for takoyaki—now including Nana—so we chopped up some octopus to start with. Natalie had become vegetarian, but liked cheese and tomato (separately) as fillings; we reserved the small griddle for her. Well, Himawari quite liked the cheese ones too.

For deep-fried snacks, we prepared calamari rings, onion rings, and potato slices, and made a tomato relish to go with them, as well as our own Japanese mayo. A holiday could be a little indulgent. Still, we also prepared cucumber and celery and miso soup as a palate cleanser, and some baked tofu “chips” for something lighter, just seasoned with pepper and garlic powder.

This all took quite a while. Honestly, I probably could have done it faster on my own, but that would’ve been no fun—and the real fun was about to begin.

My present from Kiko was a giant mortar. Not the war thing, the pestle and mortar thing, mortars being the bowl. And when I say giant, I mean I could fit my head inside it. Mi and Himawari, then, gifted me the giant “pestle”, more of a mallet, to go with it. While this might seem like a strange gift, it was entirely what I wanted for one reason: mochi pounding.

“Careful, Hime-chan, don’t rush,” I said, watching with a pounding heart.

Releasing goddess-knew how much anger, Himawari swung the mallet, leaving a dent in the rice goop and an echo in the house, her shout of, “Ay!” mimicking the master mochi maker we’d watched a month ago. Before she swung down again, Nana hastily turned the goop over and yanked back her hands like she’d been shocked.

I didn’t blame her, Himawari’s next swing coming down with another bellowing, “Ay!”

Needless to say, Kiko and Mi soon joined us in the kitchen, one looking very amused and the other… not. Fortunately, we had a good means of relieving frustration, Mi having a turn at the pounding.

Just as we were finishing up that, the doorbell rang again and, this time, Mi rushed off to answer. Himawari, Nana, and I started on the kneading, Sakura and Natalie soon coming through.

The first thing Natalie said was, “We don’t get to pound mochi?”

I chuckled. “Well, we can do some more later? It takes a while to prepare,” I said.

“Fiiiine,” Natalie said, entirely too comfortable with me. Growing up in America hadn’t quite instilled the same respect for adults.

I glanced at Nana and saw her wide-eyed, making me wince internally. The struggle of culture-clashes. “It’s okay, Nana-chan, Nat-chan likes to joke with me because I’m also from abroad, but she’s a polite girl.”

Helping matters, Natalie swooped in for a hug from her second adopted little sister. At least, she both tried to hug Nana and tried to adopt her, but Himawari was blocking her off at both attempts.

“You have to ask first!” Himawari said, mouth set in a pout, eyes narrowed, hands on her hips.

“I did ask! Just… in my head,” Natalie said, ending with a pout of her own.

Himawari eyed Natalie up for a moment longer, then turned around and quietly asked, “Is it okay?” Nana weakly nodded. Himawari nodded back, turned around again, and finally stepped aside. “Okay, but just a little one—she’s shy.”

Natalie didn’t waste any time, shooting forwards so quick it made Nana flinch. Thankfully, that calmed Natalie down and she only gave Nana a brief hug before stepping away, positively beaming. Himawari let out a sigh of relief entirely unsuited to her cuteness, only to then be aggressively hugged by Natalie, picked up in the air and swung around, losing a slipper.

“Nat-onee-san, put me down!” she screamed.

I winced; Himawari had rather found her voice these last months.

Once she had a foot on the floor, though, she burst into giggles, giving Natalie a few playful hits before hopping to her lost slipper. Considering I’d seen just how hard she’d pounded the mochi, Natalie was lucky to get off so lightly.

Our moment of entertainment over, we went back to cooking. Sakura joined us; Kiko, Mi, and Natalie headed out. Step by step, we finished preparing lunch. Filled the mochi, fried the snacks, made the takoyaki batter, then moved to the dining room to actually cook the takoyaki.

It was as fun as ever. Everyone experienced with takoyaki by now, they all called out the ones they wanted, carefully turning them over, sneaking in secret ingredients.

After finding the joy of jalapeños on pizza, Mi added them to her takoyaki—which also kept her safe from poaching, except that Sakura had to try stealing at least one, then regret it the whole time, eyes tearing up. Kiko and I agreed that was a form of flirting for them.

Like her big sister, Himawari had to add her touch too, but to Nana’s takoyaki. She liked the cheese ones most, so added cheese to the one she carefully tended to for Nana. We were conscious of not putting presumptions on Himawari until she decided for herself, but, secretly, Kiko and I agreed this habit was very cute even if it wasn’t flirting.

While the takoyaki cooked, everyone helped themselves to the snacks and sauces. I always felt so happy watching my food be eaten with smiles. A happiness I’d never known before, whether alone or “dating”. Putting a ready-meal in the oven, then sitting in front of a TV, not even talking to each other—how could that have sparked any joy?

Once the main meal was over, we heated the mochi in the takoyaki grills. It wasn’t necessary, but, the weather cold, a toasty mochi tasted all the sweeter. Sweeter still, Kiko insisted on toasting my mochi since, “You’ve done so much already.”

I loved her so much. Loved all of them, watching Himawari struggle to break the stretchy mochi, head back and arms out, Nana fretting at her side; Mi whispering in Sakura’s ear, a blush coming to her poor cheeks; Natalie glancing at her phone with a smile, no doubt who’d sent the message she was reading.

In the aftermath, the big girls tidied and cleaned. Copying Kiko, something Mi had done often these days, we were told we had done so much already. Once they finished, I still went through. It was hard to trust teenagers to clean some of my more niche cooking utensils. Not like they’d spend an hour reading up on mochi mortar maintenance.

While I was carefully oiling the mortar, Kiko came to join me. I didn’t think anything of it at first, smiling at her as she stepped through, but then she closed the door behind her.

My subconscious rather clever, I licked my lips, hands stilling, heart racing with anticipation.

She didn’t disappoint, coming behind me and enveloping me in a hug before leaving a kiss on my jawline. A tingle ran through me, breath caught in my throat, burning where she’d kissed. Desperate for more, I turned around to give her more of me to kiss. She obliged, leaving a trail of kisses along my jaw until she came to my chin, at which point I couldn’t stop myself from ducking to bring her lips to mine. Soft and gentle and warm, so different to the kisses she gave me at night. So precious. Her, her kiss, her shyness.

When she dared pull away, I pulled her down and trailed kisses up her cheek to her forehead. After that last one, I held her close, closer than anyone.

My beloved.

If anyone entered at that moment, it would have been hard to explain why Kiko was so red and I was so smug. Fortunately, no one did, leaving me to enjoy my girlfriend’s embarrassment for a little longer.

Of course, our little heaven wouldn’t be complete with just the two of us. Soon enough, the door creaked and Kiko turned away, hiding her still-pink cheeks.

“Ah, mama? Nana-chan said she’s going to the temple at seven tomorrow, so—”

“Yes, that’s fine,” Kiko said, impatient.

Oh Himawari beamed hearing that. “Thank you, mama!” she said, door shut a second after, her happy footsteps pattering back to the lounge.

I stared at the door with a smile that became ever more bittersweet. Obviously so, Kiko coming over to give me a hug. “Is something wrong?” she whispered, loosely holding me.

Although I didn’t want to say, such an ugly feeling, I was trying to be open with her, learning to be. It was hard to rely on someone else after so long of being burned for trusting anyone.

“I’m jealous that she always comes to you,” I said.

Just saying that felt like a weight off my shoulders. Now it wasn’t in my head, I could take a step back and see how small it was. Not only that, but Kiko replied with another hug, squeezing me tight for a moment.

“Lily,” she softly whispered.

She could have used anta or kimi or omae, different words for “you” that were both rude and also romantic, languages being strange like that. Normally, she would’ve shortened my name, but Millie shortened to Mi and calling your lover and adopted daughter by the same name was kind of weird, so Lili it was and that had softened into what I heard as lily.

As for her, she was my precious: “Kiko.”

After the squeeze, she stepped back enough to look me in the eye. Her hand came up and, ever so gently, brushed my fringe, her touch on my ear lingering long after she’d taken her hand back. A smouldering fire waiting for a little more fuel.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the time for such fires, left to burn itself out as her gaze burned a hole in my eyes.

“It’s funny,” she said, smile ironic. “I feel jealous of you. All the time you spend together cooking and baking and doing those plasticine movies.”

Feeling awkward, I instinctively looked away, shy. “I mean, those aren’t really important moments?”

“They are very important. They’re… the moments that woman never gave her. If she has children one day, she’s going to teach them to cook the same way you taught her. If she makes a movie one day, she’s going to praise you for encouraging her,” Kiko said, her voice a touch hoarse by the end.

She took a moment to breathe and I waited in case she wasn’t finished.

She wasn’t. “All I did was sit with her, then you came along and I realised she could talk so much. I always told myself it was fine, that Mi was special to her, nothing more I could do….”

My heart ached listening to her pain, but I was also happy. We were both learning to open up. To rely on each other.

As for what she’d said…. “She asks you to put her to bed. When she’s sick, she wants you. Mi is special to her and, now, you are too. She trusts you so much.”

Kiko let out a breathless laugh, settling into a small smile after. “We make a good team,” she whispered, eyes glistening as she blinked away the tears before they fell.

“The best team,” I whispered back.

Although we usually avoided kissing when there were guests over, there was no helping it now, closing my eyes and tilting my head. She knew what I was asking for, her lips sealing mine. Gentle and chaste, and oh so soft, flavoured with strawberry. My heart slowed, every beat harder to make up for it. The slow and steady rhythm of our love.

“Love you, Kiko,” I mumbled in English.

“Aishetru, Lily,” she mumbled back, her use of Japanese making it all the more impactful.

I laughed to keep back the tears, her kindness sewing up the wound I’d opened. “My mother… never really spent time with me, so I’d see other people’s mothers drop them at school, or they’d complain their mother bothered them when they’re sick. The things you do for her. For them.”

She sadly smiled, running her hand through my hair, caressing my cheek as she did. “It seems silly to compare yourself to what you think a mother is when you never had one. I think, instead, you should keep being the you that Hima-chan and Mi-chan need.”

I couldn’t help but cup her warm cheeks in my hands, wanted to kiss her silly. “Okay.”

Her smile brightened, ever so beautiful. Oh I wanted to kiss her again. If only she didn’t blush so easily and for so long and so obviously.

Well, our kids would eventually grow up and leave, then she could spend every day stained with my kisses.

“I, um, should check Nat-san isn’t upsetting Hima-chan,” she mumbled.

“Okay,” I said. After a last pat of her cheeks, I let her go, watched her leave, knowing she would always come back.

Alone in the kitchen, I carefully felt my own cheeks and found they weren’t exactly cool either. Smiling to myself, I got back to caring for my mortar and mallet.

Once the kitchen was sorted, I joined everyone in the lounge, settling in to watch TV with them. Plenty of family shows to watch.

That said, the best entertainment was around me. Himawari and Nana were snuggled up so cutely, sharing the quilt we practised sewing on, full of small holes where we’d undone stitches and odd knots and faint pencil marks where we’d stencilled designs. Mi and Sakura, whatever they were doing under their blanket was written on their faces, mouths stuck in a half-shy smile, perpetually blushing. Whether or not Natalie was complicit, she sat forward a little, hiding them from Himawari and Nana, now and then glancing at the lovebirds, smiling whenever she did.

Kiko was on her phone. If I had to guess, letting Nana’s mother know how lunch went. While Nakamura-san was polite enough to me, she spoke to Kiko about visits and such, which was fair enough, Kiko officially the girls’ parent.

Shame, though. Nana’s brothers were quite a bit older and, since the older one had turned twenty, he wanted to drink. Nakamura-san didn’t want Nana watching that, so the family had come to some agreement. Well, we only knew what we were told and we guessed the younger brother would also be drinking, eighteen himself.

Anyway, no drinking planned here. Maybe a glass of wine after Himawari went to bed. And we were happy to have Nana over, nice to see Himawari acting mature. Easy to think she was more like eight than twelve.

Not as easy as it used to be, though. With healthy food and a regular sleeping routine, she’d really shot up. Still far from tall, but she’d gone from short for her age to about average. It had even become a joke around the house that Kiko would end up the shortest in the family. She acted like she wasn’t bothered, but I’d seen her looking at shoes with raised heels.

The tangled web of our lives, joined by countless threads.

After an hour of watching, Himawari and Nana were getting bored, so I suggested they work on their movie and they bolted out the room, so fast they skidded in the hallway. I could only laugh, no chance to chide them.

Not in the mood to sit around myself, I went around asking, “Hot chocolate?” We’d had green tea with lunch, after all.

“Yes, thank you,” Kiko said, gently nodding.

“Yes please!” Natalie answered, Mi and Sakura exchanging a look and mutters before Mi held up two fingers, saying, “Thanks.”

I shook my head, such a cheeky brat.

By the stairs, I called up and Himawari appeared after a few seconds. “Marshmallows?” she asked.

“You had mochi already, but I guess it is New Year’s Eve,” I said.

She disappeared around the corner, only her hand remaining visible. Another few seconds, then she popped back and said, “Yes, please, with marshmallows.”

“Okay, two specials coming right up,” I said, giving her a thumbs up.

She gave me one back before disappearing again. I stood there for a moment, smiling up at where she’d been, cherishing. Cherishing this little moment.

While I busied myself with mugs and cocoa powder and warming up milk, I drifted back to the little I’d spoken with Kiko earlier. I didn’t have any happy memories before swapping with Mi. I probably did have happy moments, maybe even with my parents, but their abuse trained me to fear, something that lasted into my relationships even after leaving home.

Trained to be hyper-conscious of their triggers, to never rely on them, to never ask for anything. Every moment I did anything “wrong” ingrained in my head so I wouldn’t dare make the same mistake again, pushing out everything else. Stuck in survival mode.

No wonder I felt what I did for Himawari was useless, trapped in my false-normality. I wanted to be the opposite of my mother, but the opposite of loud was quiet, a quiet happiness to soften the bumps and scrapes of life. I wanted to be the mother Himawari needed, not the mother I wished I had.

That went for Mi too, but I’d come to terms with her needing more of a mentor and confidante than a mother-figure, especially since therapy had helped her readjust so well. So that’s who I tried to be for Mi.

My thoughts came to an end with the hot chocolates almost done, which was when Kiko arrived. “Need help carrying them through?” she asked.

“Sure. That’s Mi, Sakura, Nat, yours,” I said, pointing out the four mugs, each one with slightly different mixes to suit everyone’s taste. Half a spoon of sugar for Kiko to take off the bitter edge, three for Natalie and her sweet tooth, two for Mi and Sakura, but Sakura had a sensitive tongue, so extra milk to cool it. Fortunately for Kiko, they were all personal mugs, so no need to remember the order I pointed.

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She chuckled, picking up a tray to put them on. “You’re just taking your own?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

“Hime-chan and Nana-chan,” I said, pointing at the smaller, matching mugs. They were very pink and very sparkly and had their names on them—the Kanji.

Kiko looked at the mugs, then at the now-open bag of marshmallows next to them. “Don’t spoil them too much, sweetie,” she said, switching to English for the pet name.

“I’ll try not to, darling,” I said back, finishing with a tap of my nose.

A second passed, then she tapped her nose and quickly shuffled off with the tray. I watched her go, chuckling the whole time.

Marshmallows and spoons-for-eating-the-marshmallows added, I carefully carried their mugs upstairs along with my own, coming to Himawari’s room. A bit awkward, I knocked with my elbow.

“Come in!” Himawari said.

So I awkwardly used my elbow to push down the handle. I could have asked them to open it, but, well, I wasn’t used to asking for help just yet.

“Thank you, Millie-san,” Himawari said, Nana echoing the words a moment after, albeit more of a whisper.

However, they didn’t move, hunched over the desk. I walked over and saw the little plasticine figures, accompanied by a digital camera with a mount that clamped onto the side of her desk. Her Christmas present. Not just the figures, she and Nana had worked on backgrounds, carefully painting the insides of cut cardboard boxes, mostly cereal boxes. A few props too.

“I can’t wait to see the finished movie,” I said, putting down their mugs to the side.

From my angle, I could see Himawari frowning in concentration. “Mm, it’s almost done,” she said, plastic scalpel shaping the snail’s expression.

I wanted to pat her head, but she was focused and Nana was around. Had to save it for later.

“Let me know if you need anything,” I said.

“Yes, Millie-san,” Himawari said, Nana answering with a shy nod.

“Oh, and I’m making the soba noodles later—do you want to help, girls?” I asked.

“Yes!” Himawari said quickly, turning to Nana.

After a moment, Nana mumbled, “Ah, yes, Millie-san.”

“I’ll let you know when I start.” Smiling, I left the two to it.

A sip from my mug in the hallway, then I shuffled downstairs, joining the others again. Without Himawari and Nana around, Mi and Sakura were a lot more… comfortable, Sakura resting her head on Mi’s shoulder. Adorable. Kiko and Natalie, meanwhile, were talking about something, America from what I heard before they stopped. Kiko gave me a smile as I sat down, tempting me with a kiss. Not that we ever kissed in front of guests, but I made a note, tallying up all the kisses she owed me later.

“How are they?” she asked.

“Working hard,” I said, sipped some more. “It looks great.”

Natalie eager to gossip about her adopted sisters, she tapped her fingertips together and asked, “Do you know the story they’re doing yet?”

I gave a mysterious smile and sipped more of my hot chocolate. “Well, there’s a snail who’s sad she’s not pretty, and she befriends a fairy. Though the snail asks the fairy to magic her into something more beautiful, the fairy instead decorates her with a tiny flower crown and paints her shell. The snail loves this, but worries that the flowers will wilt and the paint will wash off, but the fairy reassures her that she will always be there to replace them.”

The more I said, the more Natalie melted, a puddle by the end as all she could say was, “Awww.”

Not that I could talk: when I’d read their hastily scribbled ideas for the story, I almost cried. They were just so cute and precious.

Though I would have loved to talk about them and their movie all day, I had the feeling that, if I did, Natalie would end up needing to go interfere. Not in a bad way, but I tried to give the girls space to explore their creativity.

“How is Dory?” I asked, switching to English.

“Busy,” Natalie said, near enough sighing out the word. “My parents made me go back for Christmas, now her parents want her to help with her uncle’s shrine—I haven’t even seen her since I left.”

“Poor thing,” I said, trying not to smile as I found her pouting adorable.

Not one to be teased, Natalie glanced at Kiko and then back at me. “You don’t have that problem, so you wouldn’t know,” she said.

Unfortunately for her, Kiko was the shy one. Brightly smiling, I said, “Nope.”

She tried to look upset, but barely lasted a second before giggling. “You’re great. I wish my mom was more like you.”

My heart thumped a little at that, happy with the compliment. “I’m sure your mum is great in other ways, and we’re definitely both lacking in our own ways,” I said.

She smiled, then her attention drifted back to the TV.

What we were watching wasn’t anything interesting. Family shows—sometimes a sort of “normal person” documentary, like the everyday life of a farmer; sometimes a quiz show; sometimes celebrities being forced into awkward situations, like a scavenger hunt in a market. Nothing serious. The sort of thing you could watch while talking to each other or checking your phone, background noise.

So the afternoon trickled by in meaningless conversations, hot chocolate drunk and mugs rinsed, salted peanuts and other nuts on offer for snacking, until it was time to start cooking again. I got up slowly, feeling the excitement of the last few days getting to me.

“Do you want us to handle it?” Kiko asked, her concern genuine enough that she held my hand, forgetting she wasn’t supposed to in front of guests.

I didn’t remind her. “No, I’m fine. You made Christmas special for me, so I want to make New Year’s special for you,” I said.

She stared at me for a moment longer, then took back her hand and turned away, looking thoroughly awkward. “Ah, okay,” she muttered.

Through in the kitchen, I started preparing more sticky rice for mochi, as well as some rice for our dinner. After that, I leisurely began taking out ingredients. Maybe it was my job bleeding into my home life, but I liked to be very organised when cooking.

Everything prepared, I sent Himawari a message. She’d only had a phone once Kiko started the adoption process, those people never getting her one and Mi had so much else on her plate. No wonder she didn’t have many friends in this age of smartphones. Hard to hang out when they all arranged to meet up on LINE.

My musings were cut short there, two sets of light footsteps drumming down the stairs. A second later, the kitchen door opened an inch, then swung open all the way, presenting my sous chefs.

“Eager, are we?” I said, laughing.

Himawari beamed, Nana half-hiding behind her.

“Okay, let’s get started. I have the flour here, so we have to measure it out first,” I said, arranging the relevant things for them.

Little by little, making a little mess, we weighed and sifted and mixed and kneaded, ending up with a smooth dough. After rolling it out, we sort of folded it while not mixing it, starch between the layers, which made it easier to cut into noodles. Not particularly uniform noodles, but noodles nonetheless.

“Nana-chan, do you want to take some home? Maybe you can add them to your toshikoshi meal?” I said.

Of course, she couldn’t directly answer me, instead looking at Himawari as she said, “That is, is it okay?”

“With so many growing children in the house, I always make extra,” I said.

She glanced at me, then back at Himawari, but only when Himawari gave a tiny nod did Nana say, “Thank you very much.”

“I’ll put some in a box for you,” I said. Making treats and such was such a common thing these days, I had some spare lunch boxes—Nana always gave them back to Himawari the next door. What a good girl.

“Th-thank you,” she said again, this time with a bow.

I knew better than to tell her she didn’t need to, instead bowed back to her (albeit not as deeply, my back stiff). “And thank you.”

That put her in a nervous fluster, a treat for the soul, until Himawari calmed her with a hug, combined with a scowl at me. Obviously, only Himawari was allowed to tease Nana-chan.

Giggling away, I packed a portion of noodles, then carried on other preparations with their help. Mostly washing and cutting vegetables. Being the perpetually-hungry children they were, some snacking was involved, mostly carrot and bean sprouts.

That took us to Nana’s departure, her mother arriving as I was showing them the yakiniku sauce I’d made yesterday.

So we sent her off with a smile and her portion of noodles, Himawari peppering her with promises until the door closed—“I’ll send you the video!”

Then there was silence.

After a few seconds, I brought up my hand and patted Himawari’s head. “Did you two have fun?” I asked.

She looked up, smiling so wide. “Yeah!”

I smiled back.

From then on, it was a normal enough night for us, just with the TV showing the somewhat-of-a-tradition music battle programme in the background. The girls helped me serve up dinner: soba in hot dashi with scallions; teppenyaki (sliced meat and vegetables and mushrooms, cooked on two hot plates, keeping one meat-free for Natalie); and some fried rice with crispy tofu cubes.

Despite measuring out for eight, the six of us ate it all… and Kiko and I were still pretty full from lunch. At the least, it kept Natalie quiet for an hour before she asked about the mochi. Nothing for it, she and Sakura had a turn at mochi pounding, then Sakura helped me finish making the mochi—Himawari was pretty content to cuddle with Mi by this time of the evening.

Little by little, the evening the slipped away, Himawari starting to nod off. A special occasion, Kiko and I didn’t want to send her to bed just yet. She was a good girl; when she was ready, she’d say.

I just didn’t expect that, when she did, she would say, “Millie-san, can you put me to bed?”

For a moment, I was frozen, then Kiko squeezed my hand and I practically jumped up. “Of course, Hime-chan, let’s go,” I said, offering my hand.

She took it, her little hand holding mine.

The whole time, I couldn’t believe it, surreal. She was twelve and didn’t need help with anything, but, after brushing her teeth and changing, I brushed out her hair. It was really nice these days. She didn’t like it too long, but it was still past her shoulders, and well-maintained. There was certainly no shortage of volunteers to brush it.

A metaphor for her and Mi.

After that, I tucked her in and read a chapter of her book. She wasn’t much of a reader, but liked stories, so we spoiled her. By the time I finished, I’d thought she was asleep. Her eyes had drifted closed a minute before and hadn’t opened since.

I was wrong.

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

“You’re welcome,” I said and leaned forwards, gently stroking the top of her head before leaving a kiss on her forehead. “Oyasumi.”

Rather than say it back, she took her hand out the blanket and pinched my blouse. Smiling to myself, I stayed where I was.

“Is there something you want to talk about?” I whispered.

Her hand tensed for a moment, then relaxed, my blouse slipping out from her fingers. “I talked to Mi-onee-chan, and she… said I can call you mummy if I want to.”

My poor heart couldn’t take it, missing a beat only for the next one to double-up. “You want to call me mummy?”

A second, then she gently nodded, her eyes still firmly shut. Even more firmly than before, brow wrinkled.

I could have laughed and maybe should have to keep back the tears. Instead, the tears rolled down my cheek, over my smile. “If you want to, I would be happy to be called mummy.”

Her mouth moved, but no sound came out, then her hand felt around until she found my hand, giving it a squeeze. “Oyasumi, mummy,” she whispered.

“Oyasumi, my daughter,” I whispered.

When I eventually went downstairs, I couldn’t stop smiling. Everyone surely noticed, but nothing was said. Calm, quiet, a house full of love. Of all kinds of love.

The girls had planned a midnight shrine visit, which would last until the first sunrise of the year. So, instead of the usual evening tea, I got up to make coffee. At our age, Kiko and I needed the help staying up to midnight. Not that we were particularly old.

So I was busying away in the kitchen, measuring out the instant coffee and sugar for everyone, only to be joined by Mi. I thought nothing of it at first, then the precious moment I’d shared with Himawari hit me.

And I started crying.

The cool, calm, collected Mi took one look and panicked. It was adorable. Eyes wide, mouth open, unsure what to do with her hands. Sparing her, I just pulled her into a hug. Squeezed her tight, but hopefully not so tight it hurt, trying for that balance. After a second, she patted my back.

“There, there,” she mumbled.

I had to laugh, drying up the tears. As I pulled away from her, I looked her in the eye and softly said, “Thank you.”

She tried to play it off, rubbing her cheek as she looked away. “For what?”

“Hime called me mummy,” I said.

Her bravado turned shy in a flash. “Well, you are. More than that woman ever was.”

I kept staring at her, all the love I felt bubbling up. Not the giddy kind of love I felt with Kiko, but a warm and gentle love, wanting to hug her to death and back.

For now, I just patted her head. “We’re here for you too, okay? Whenever you need us. Whatever you need.”

She let my hand stay there for a good few seconds before shuffling over to the mugs. Getting the message, we made the coffees. Once they were done, though, she quietly said, “I’ve been thinking, it’s not really strange for people to have two mums, so is three mums any stranger?”

I heard what she didn’t say, melting inside. “Whenever you want to, even if that’s never. You’ll always be our daughter.”

Facing away from me, she said, “Maybe next year.”

A thought coming to me, I couldn’t help but tease her. “When do you think Sakura will start calling me okaa-san?”

Though she didn’t answer, still facing away, her ears gave away her blush.

“Soon?” I asked, stepping forward in hopes of glimpsing her expression.

“I’ll take ours through,” she mumbled, picking up her and Sakura’s mugs, then leaving in a hurry.

What a wonderful year to look forward to.