Chapter 4: Ch. 4 Inertia

Rather than go home, Himawari and I went one house farther—to Sakura’s. Her mother greeted us at the door, pulling Himawari into a big hug.

“I’ve left the groceries in your fridge,” she said afterwards, looking at me.

“Thank you,” I said, the translation in my head not quite capturing how polite it was, but how I bowed was obviously very polite.

She quickly stopped me, giving my shoulder a pat. “There’s no need for that. What good are adults if we can’t look after children?” she said, her tone almost musical. Maybe the old me never noticed, but I felt the chill behind those words now. She didn’t think highly of our parents.

Anyway, as precocious as Himawari had been even at the gate, that had entirely evaporated, now tugging at “Mrs” Fujiyama’s cardigan, asking to help with the cooking. It wasn’t like she’d learned to make karaage by herself or at baking club.

Sakura and I helped too, the routine we’d fallen into. Skip lunch, have a snack on the way back with Himawari, then pick at the food as we cooked a huge dinner, packing up leftovers to cover a couple more meals. Himawari was good at cooking, but I wasn’t going to have an eleven-year-old take on that much responsibility. Honestly, especially now, I would’ve rather she didn’t do any cooking, but I understood it was a small part of her world that she actually had control of, that made her feel like she was contributing.

The rest of Sakura’s family joined us for dinner. I barely knew her little brother, kept to himself, and Sakura didn’t talk about him much either. Her father arrived as the food was being served, perfectly punctual as always. He seemed a bit cold to me, but had heard that he was only like that around outsiders. A traditional, conservative upbringing, melted on the inside by his family.

Afterwards, Sakura walked us home—all two steps of the way. She always said it was in case Himawari and I both forgot our keys.

She was also feeling a little chatty today, apparently. “So… Toyama-sensei is babysitting tomorrow, right?” she said.

“It’s not babysitting!” Himawari said, stamping her foot and crossing her arms.

I silently chuckled, patting her back. “She’s coming over to tutor Hime-chan,” I said.

Sakura nodded a few times, then seemed to gather her resolve, clenching her fists. “Um, if you have time after, maybe, um, we can practise English?” she asked, not quite looking me in the eye.

Softly smiling, I shook my head and the way she deflated just crushed my heart. “I’m redoing a lot of work tomorrow, but that means I can do it faster in the future, so next Sunday,” I said.

A withered flower watered, she perked up, looking at me with eyes almost as innocent as Himawari’s. “Really?” she asked.

“Really,” I said.

She burst into a smile, then ducked her head, blush colouring her cheeks. “Okay! I can’t wait,” she said and, as if making good on that, rushed back home.

I watched her go, slightly smiling. She was too amusing sometimes.

Himawari’s pout growing by the second, I turned all my attention back to her for the rest of the evening, especially since I wouldn’t see her much the next day. We watched what she wanted, I braided her hair, she talked endlessly about everything that had happened at school this week, and I listened, giving her the attention she desperately needed in this family that hadn’t had any parents for a lot longer than the months we’d lived here alone.

A bath, then I put her to bed, staying with her until she drifted off, staying a little longer, just looking at her face. A few days and my instincts were already adopting her, or maybe that was the old me’s instincts.

As nice as it would have been to relax and indulge in our make-believe family, I continued with the overhaul, the sooner I was done with the work the better.

Of course, this body had other ideas and, eventually, I was keenly aware of the wooden desk under my head, knocks sounding like they were coming from inside my head rather than the door.

“Mi-onee-chan, are you awake? Kiko-sensei will be here soon!”

Himawari’s sharp voice dug in deep, my face scrunching up, but I pushed through the impulsive frustration and settled into comfortable numbness. “I’m awake,” I loudly said.

I heard her hesitation, a long second before her reply. “Okay, I’ll make some breakfast,” she said, quieter. There was another pause before her footsteps sounded, finally leaving.

It didn’t take me long to bounce back, the perks of being a teen again, in good shape when “Kiko-sensei” did arrive.

Despite Himawari knowing that meant I’d be gone all day, she still raced to the door, grinning. Traitor.

Jokes aside, I felt an instinctive happiness too. The Fujiyamas next door had been “my” biggest help, even before our parents left, but there was a feeling of being pitied to it. Strays they put a bowl of food out for. With Toyama, “I” felt like she treated me as a young adult.

Well, regardless of feelings, the truth of it was that she was willing to help.

Opening the door, Himawari turned a little shy, mumbling, “Hello, Kiko-sensei.”

Toyama chuckled. “Hello, Hima-chan. Ready to learn?”

“Yes!” Himawari said, her courage back once she turned around, already rushing off to the kitchen table where her books were already out.

We both watched her go, then I turned to Toyama. “We’ll be in your care,” I said, bowing.

She waved me off, smiling. “No need to be so formal,” she said.

“I’m not in trouble?” I asked, face scrunched up with a cheeky grin.

She rolled her eyes, but her sigh still slipped out through a smile.

No time to waste, she went to help Himawari and I went to my room, getting to work. I’d made a good dent into it already, but redoing a month’s work wasn’t easy. I was confident I could get back on schedule, though, and future milestones wouldn’t require another crunch.

Not that I hated this crunch, giving me a break from this overwhelming “heaven”.

Minutes passed like seconds and hours like days, one moment setting up the database, the next devouring lunch at my desk, the next getting up to turn on the light, room engulfed in darkness, finally sending out a test email from the mailing list to myself, a heavy sense of relief filling me at seeing it appear in my inbox, exhaustion catching up to me now the pressure was off.

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I rubbed my eyes, then checked the time. Wincing, I forced myself up, expecting my body to groan a lot worse than it actually did. The joys of youth.

Through in the lounge, Toyama was by herself, a pile of papers to mark. No reason she couldn’t do some work too, especially after Himawari went to bed.

Hearing my footsteps, Toyama looked up.

“She was okay today?” I asked.

Toyama put the lid on her pen and settled into a polite smile. “Very chatty,” she said, laughter in her voice.

I chuckled, too tired for the smile to linger. “She’s been genki this week,” I said, that word I didn’t know fitting better than any English word, meaning something like “full of energy”.

For some reason, that sentence cooled her expression. “I think I know why,” she said, something in her eyes I couldn’t read.

So I asked: “Why?”

Her smile returned for a moment, disappeared the next, her gaze dropping to the papers again. “You seemed like you were slowly shutting down ever since your parents left, so I’m glad you’ve bounced back.”

I didn’t know exactly what she meant, the last few months hazy for me, but maybe that was the proof. As for what she said, I didn’t know what to say except, “Thank you.”

She waved me off, pretending to focus on her marking.

Unfortunately for her, I had more to say, feeling a rush of gratitude for how she’d looked after Himawari when “I” couldn’t. I knew just how much she’d done by how happy Himawari was when she arrived. “Thank you for everything.”

She heard the strain in my voice and looked up, all of a sudden looking a little flustered. “Really, I didn’t do any exceptional,” she said.

Softly smiling, I pulled out a chair and joined her at the table. “I know I’m not doing the right thing, but all I want is for Himawari to be happy, so thank you.”

Even if it wasn’t my intention, seeing Toyama flustered was so funny I couldn’t look away. Something so cute about her bowed head, a light blush, lips moving as she tried to speak before she had something to say.

Taking pity on her, I asked, “Where does Kiko come from?”

It obviously didn’t come from Toyama or Riku, so I was curious. She’d used it when introducing herself to Himawari and “I” hadn’t asked, feeling like I couldn’t, but I wasn’t “I” now and I was curious.

She looked more flustered at first, but then quickly cooled into an empty smile. Nostalgic, I thought, but not necessarily of happy memories.

“Your mother’s nickname for me, or rather my nickname for her to use,” she said, barely above a whisper. “You see, my home wasn’t happy either, so I didn’t like any part of my name. She was my homeroom teacher and every time she called on me, I couldn’t help but scowl at her. However, she was so kind, she talked to me and, once I told her, she suggested I take two things I like and make a new name that will make me smile when I hear it.”

I nodded along, what went unsaid filling in gaps. Before, she’d only said she knew my late mother—my birth mother. And it explained why she was willing to help me, both because she liked my mother and because she knew what a bad home was like.

But it didn’t answer my question. “So, what things make up Kiko?” I asked.

She chuckled, brushing off a lot of the darkness that had settled on her face. “You’re not allowed to laugh, okay? Kiki’s Delivery Service, and Coca-Cola.”

Kiki Cola, KiCo.

I pressed my lips together, eyes shut tight, breath held.

Until she eventually said, “Fine, you can laugh.”

Oh did I, laugh after laugh spilling out, eyes watering and mouth hurting from smiling so much.

“It’s not that funny,” she mumbled.

Breathless, I said, “It’s funny and sweet and cute, Kiko-sensei.”

I couldn’t look away, her expression so adorable. Embarrassment dyed her face, an awkward smile colouring her lips, bowed head letting me see her long eyelashes over the top of her stylish glasses. The old “me” held her in such high esteem, but I just saw someone my age—my old age—trying to be an adult. Indeed, if my mother had taught her, then she would’ve been late twenties or so.

Glancing up, she caught my gaze. Perhaps I should have tried to look contrite because she collected herself and took away my fun. Soon enough, she was back to the teacher I knew.

“Well, I think that’s enough,” she said, tone controlled. “I am your home room teacher.”

“Yes, Kiko-sensei,” I said, bowing to hide my cheeky grin.

Sighing, she collected her papers. “I did mean it, though—it’s good you’re also genki.”

“Mm, yes, sensei,” I softly said.

A silent walk to the door, a brief goodbye, a reminder to get to bed soon, then she was gone. The house felt so empty. Well, I hadn’t spent any time with Himawari, locked in my room the whole day, so it was natural to feel lonely.

After all, before I woke up in this “heaven”, I’d been lonely for so long.

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