Chapter 7: Ch. 7 Foundation Crumbling

Sunday morning, I woke up to Himawari’s knocking, somehow back in my bed. I’d probably woken up in the night and walked over.

“Mi-onee-chan, Kiko-sensei’s coming soon! Do you want breakfast?”

I pushed through the lingering sleepiness and sat up. “Yes, thank you,” I loudly said.

A couple seconds, then her footsteps pitter-pattered off. I smiled to myself, imagining her leaning against the door and listening.

The morning went like last Sunday’s, me powering through my work, Himawari kept busy by Toyama. Milestones met, there wasn’t the same pressure on me. In fact, I had a bonus, enough to spoil Himawari. Maybe I should have saved everything, but I believed in my ability to work and didn’t want to give Himawari any more scars. I’d known friends who grew up poor, how it left a mark on them, whether it was how they wore shoes until they fell apart, or how they were desperate to spend their money before a bill swallowed it up.

Anyway, I finished up by lunch and joined them to eat. Very fun.

“Kiko-sensei said I did very well on my English homework,” Himawari said, chin up, practically glowing with pride.

“You did? That’s great,” I said and put down my chopsticks to pat her head. “All our practice worked out.”

Toyama chuckled at that, covering her mouth. “Yes, Hima-chan said you watched English TV?” she said.

“Are you interested too?” I asked, humour in my voice.

The light behind her smile dimmed and I knew what she was going to say before she said it. “Your mother’s, right? She brought some in for the culture festival and we did an English cinema. I still remember hearing her snort at the back, enjoying it far more than any of our customers did.”

I softly smiled. “You must have liked my mother a lot,” I said.

She stiffened up for a moment, then almost laughed, but caught it, lowering her head in a slight nod. “I liked her very much,” she whispered.

Glancing at Himawari, I left it there for now, but, at the end of the meal, I asked Himawari if she could watch something for a minute. She looked at me, then at Toyama, then nodded with a smile. “Can you put on Wallace and Gromit?” she asked.

I chuckled and gave her head another pat. “Sure.”

With that arranged, I led Toyama to the master bedroom—to the few photos of my mother on top of the chest of drawers. “Sorry, it’s, um…” I mumbled, suddenly realising how weird it was.

But she understood, unable to keep the cold anger out her voice as she asked, “Your father didn’t….”

“No, I just took these out of storage last week, and I don’t, I don’t even know where to begin,” I said, barely a whisper by the end.

“I’ll have it sorted—if you don’t mind,” she said, funny how her tone shifted from so stern to so gentle. If the mood wasn’t so sombre, I would’ve laughed.

Throat closed up, I nodded, then forced out a quiet, “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” she said. Confused, I looked over and saw her staring at the photos of my mother. Such a tender look, more like she was looking at her own mother than her old teacher. Even after all she’d done for us, I couldn’t imagine looking at her like that, but maybe death was the difference. It was easy to lie about dead people, especially when no one wanted to be the one to speak ill of them.

The old me had a lot to say on that.

We stayed there for a while longer, or rather Toyama did and I looked out the window, giving her some privacy as she paid her respects. When she moved around, I turned back and, sure enough, she looked at peace, like she’d been holding onto some of the same pain this body had all this time.

Our eyes met, small smiles coming to both of us.

“You seem more mature these days, Mi-chan,” she said, punctuating her point with the sort of childish-sounding nickname.

But it didn’t bother me and maybe that was part of what she meant. Anyway, telling her the truth sounded like, at best, being committed to a psychiatry ward, at worst being subjected to an exorcism ritual—if she believed me in the first place.

I didn’t want to lie to her, though, so settled for a half-truth, or maybe a quarter-truth. “There’s someone in England I’m talking to. She’s worked in programming for ages and gave me a lot of advice, and I started thinking what she would do, so that’s probably why.”

An awkward explanation, but it was probably believable that a struggling teen would try to emulate a successful role-model, right?

Toyama’s thoughts were hidden behind a chuckle. “So a stranger on the Internet is more helpful than me?” she said jokingly.

“No, no, you’ve done so much, I just—”

“It’s okay, Mi-chan, I’m only teasing you. Really, I think it’s great. You’re very clever and I’m glad you found someone that is helping you make the most of your talent,” she said, her even tone entirely that of a teacher.

I pouted, uncomfortable being lectured. Much preferred being the one teasing her.

After another chuckle, probably at my pout, she patted my shoulder and turned to the door. “We shouldn’t keep Hima-chan waiting.”

I hesitated, then said, “She also left behind… clothes and books and stuff. If you’d like—”

Her hand stilled by the door handle, or was it shaking? “Mm, I’ll look at the books, but I’m sure Fujiyama’s mother will help with the clothes.”

“Okay,” I said, guessing I was asking too much from her.

Once we went through the door, it was like nothing had happened. All smiles. Not that she stayed much longer, no reason for her to—and Natalie was probably driving Sakura mad by now.

As she left, she said, “The Fujiyamas have a key, right? I’ll arrange for the butsudan with them. Or would something… Christian be better?”

The strange words triggered memories, finally recalling what the “family shrines” were called in Japanese. Buddhist ones. As far as her question went, “I” had no clue, and I could only guess my mother was probably a member of the Church of England if she was religious. But it wasn’t like Himawari or anyone else would be paying respects to her.

“Just something simple. I’d like to burn incense and frame her photographs,” I said, realising I probably didn’t need her help after all.

“I’m sure I have some spares around. When I find them, I’ll give them to you at school,” she said.

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Sure, “spares”. I didn’t call her out on that, though, appreciating her care. “Thank you.”

A minute after she left, Natalie and Sakura were over, ready to binge the afternoon away on Scooby Doo and a couple other old cartoons. Not the worst way to spend a Sunday.

Then it was Monday, much easier to cope with now my sleep schedule wasn’t entirely based around passing out at my desk, but I still skipped the mid-morning’s maths class to catch up. Over lunch, the weekend came up again—last one and next one.

“Just, like, there’s so much I want to watch,” Natalie said, settling into a pout.

I chuckled and went to reply, only to stop myself. Poor Sakura was being left out and ready to pout too. In Japanese, I said, “I was thinking, on Sunday, we go to the sentō, then order pizza and watch a movie?”

“With Himawari?” Natalie asked.

I nodded.

“Of course! That sounds great,” Natalie said, clapping her hands together. Then she leaned in and asked, “What’s a sentō?”

“Public baths,” I said in English.

That visually doused Natalie’s enthusiasm, but didn’t put it out. “Like a spa.”

Smile crooked, I said, “A self-service spa.”

She chuckled at that and didn’t have any more questions, so I turned to Sakura. She apparently hadn’t warmed up to the idea since I’d last mentioned it, staring down at her fidgeting hands, looking that much paler without her usual blush.

“You don’t want to? We can do something else, I just—”

“No,” she quickly said, then took a moment to carry on. “I’ll come too.”

I slowly nodded. “Great, it will be fun to go together.”

She forced a weak smile.

The chilly reaction obviously made me rethink it, but they’d agreed. Not like going once would be the end of the world. Oh well, I just had to make up for it with a great movie.

Their reaction lingering in my thoughts through the week, by Wednesday afternoon, really, I was ready to call it off. Back home, Himawari and I were settling down to do our homework. At least, she was, I was trying to find the words, not wanting to disappoint her.

Digging the knife in, she randomly burst into giggles.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“I can’t wait to go to the sentō! It’s like a trip,” she said, mouth scrunched into a smile.

Deeper went the knife with a twist for good measure. My gaze dropped, unable to look her in the eye. “Mm, did you have fun with your friends today?” I said, far from subtle in changing the topic.

“Mm, I guess,” she said, her roller-coaster mood coming back down.

Something I had noticed.

Not a delicate bone in my body, I fumbled around. “Is there, you know, a problem at school or anything?”

“No,” she said, more of a sigh. “I just, you know, they all seem so childish. All they want to talk about is anime or boys.” She practically spat that last word out, amusing me since she would surely change her tune on that subject in a couple years. And I also wanted to laugh since all she wanted to do recently was watch “western anime”.

But “I’m not like other girls” was a common enough phase, she was just an early bloomer. Of course, I knew why, nothing like an emotionally distressing home to force a child to lose their childhood. That was why I indulged her childishness, letting her make up for her lost years.

However, I wasn’t perfect and unfortunately not in a good place to get her a therapist—my father wouldn’t agree to it. I mean, he knew what would happen if there was an investigation into our situation. Still, I wanted her to get on with children her age, not just hang around with Sakura and Natalie.

“What about Nana-chan? Maybe we should go to the sentō with her and her mother, and we can go with Sakura and Natalie another time,” I said.

“No!” she shouted, the first time I’d really ever heard her raise her voice, and she knew that too, instantly curling up, hiding in her arms. “I want onee-san.”

Nothing in life could be easy. But that was okay, I was strong. I needed to be strong.

Half-standing, I reached over and patted her head, then gave it a gentle stroke as I pulled back, sitting back down. Only, I changed my mind and stood up again. “Let’s go shopping—right now.”

“Wh-what?” she said, peeking out with wrinkles between her eyebrows.

“Let’s get matching pyjamas for after our trip,” I said.

Her head raised a little more, showing me her shimmering eyes. Broke my heart. Maybe she was worried I was upset at her for shouting and fussing, worried I’d leave her too.

All the more reason to spoil her.

“And some cute accessories,” I said, combing my fingers through her hair. Poor thing. Her hair had always gone from unmanageably long to hacked short, her first real haircut a couple months ago. “Ribbons, hair clips, scrunchies, and you’re already so cute! What am I going to do?”

A smile bloomed, pinching her eyes. “I’m not cute,” she mumbled, pouting to try and keep off the smile… and failing.

“You are the sweetest, cutest, best little sister in the whole world,” I said, finishing with a kiss on her forehead and a big hug.

She was tense for a second, then melted, hugging me back tightly. Desperately. The past wasn’t something that could be forgotten, we could only build a mountain of memories to keep it out of sight.

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