An IV drip, taking medicine, temperature dropping back to normal, discharge, then driving off to eat—another day gone by.
On the drive to the restaurant, the emotions Soyo had locked away inside began to stir quietly once more.
She thought of her own mother.
As a child she would resent her; a little older, she began to feel for her; and as an adult, facing all manner of pressures from society and the countless partings and reunions, joys and sorrows she'd been through.. Soyo had once again started to "resent" her mama a little.
This resentment came hand in hand with the appearance of gratitude. It wasn't strong, but it absolutely existed—even if only a tiny pinch of it.
Why would she resent her mother?
Why was it that, having gotten through the middle-school years when she had the most reason to resent her mother, she had instead only begun to resent her afterward?
Was it because, after discovering she no longer had a single friend she could really talk to, there was no one left to blame?
How exactly had the life of her, Nagasaki Soyo, ended up turning out this way?
Those two weeks of band life back in middle school. They'd been so happy, hadn't they.
Why did the band she'd regarded as [home] fall apart and crumble so quickly? Even though she herself had done nothing wrong at all.
By now Soyo already knew the answer. She was in her early thirties, and had long since seen through many of the world's problems.
[Sometimes life is just like that. It isn't necessarily that you did anything wrong—a lot of the time all you can do is quietly watch the tragedy unfold. At most, you tack on one last line at the end:]
[That's how things are.]
"Mama? Mama?"
The little girl's soft, limp call roused Soyo from her memories. Lately she was always zoning out like this.. was it because she was getting old?
She realized the red light in front of her had long since turned green, and the cars behind her had impatiently started honking at her.
"Sorry about that—I was just thinking about something."
I'm being a bit irresponsible again, aren't I. Haah.
Turning at the intersection up ahead, following a dead-straight path up a slope, and finally making a left at the crossroads—
and there it was: an utterly unremarkable izakaya that Soyo came back to patronize every now and then.
"Mama? What do those words say?"
Pointing groggily at the name of the izakaya outside the window, Soyo unconsciously knit her brows, but still answered patiently:
"Edo Tachiba Cuisine."
"Eh? What does that mean?"
"Hmm.. I don't actually know either."
A very good question—one that left Soyo at a loss for words.
After all, she'd long since passed that curious-little-explorer stage of brimming with the thirst for knowledge.
In Soyo's eyes, it didn't matter what a restaurant was called, and she wouldn't go digging into it or asking around... after all, there was no real point.
So she found herself unable to give this child any halfway-decent answer.
"Come on, let's go eat. You definitely won't dislike this place."
The place Nagasaki Soyo took Nagasaki Chiose to eat was a thoroughly authentic old-Tokyo izakaya.
It huddled in a little corner of the city; unless you went looking for it on purpose, it was all too easy to unconsciously overlook.
There was no signboard at the entrance, no neon lights on the eaves; compared to the bustle of the Tokyo metropolis, this place was a shabby little hidden find, as though one had stepped into another world entirely.
The shop's business card read "Edo Tachiba Cuisine."
From the moment they entered until now, Chiose had been curiously looking all around, though she didn't make a sound to disturb Soyo.
Perhaps because it was still too early to be a proper dinner hour, Chiose and Soyo were the only two diners inside. Soyo took the menu the waiter handed over and skimmed the dishes with practiced ease.
"Is there anything you'd like to eat?"
There was a menu in front of Chiose too; next to the great big menu, the tiny little Chiose looked as cute as a figurine.
"I... can't read..."
"Ah.. I forgot. Then how about the pictures—is there anything you like?"
She tried to cover up her awkwardness with a strained smile, but Soyo felt that the more she smiled the more awkward it got.
She really had just forgotten that her daughter was only six years old.
"Pictures? Lemme look... Ah! Mama! This one!"
"Hm?"
Soyo looked over to where Chiose was pointing. The menu was paper, and the picture of the ginseng chicken soup stood out especially vividly on it.
"Ginseng chicken soup? You like this dish?"
"Mm-hmm!"
I super love it, my adorable little daughter!
Nagasaki Chiose nodded "amiably," swearing that her wanting to eat ginseng chicken soup absolutely wasn't out of any mischievous bad taste.
It was just.. the only thing on this menu she was interested in was the ginseng chicken soup. After all, to be having dinner with Soyo once again—and at a different age, sharing a meal with a Soyo of a different age too—there had to be some sense of ceremony to it, didn't there.
Not so long ago it had been her, nearly thirty, taking a Soyo just past ten to drink ginseng chicken soup.
And in the blink of an eye it had become a Soyo in her early thirties taking a six-year-old her to eat ginseng chicken soup.
It'd be fun if the Soyo before her were that one she used to know. I wonder how that Soyo is getting on in the other world.
"All right, all right, this one it is."
Soyo failed to catch the complicated flicker that flashed through Chiose's eyes. After ordering, she sat quietly staring at this little girl.
"Chi—Little Chiose, are you going to kindergarten these days? I'll take you there."
"Mama, it's summer break right now."
"Ahem... oh, right, I forgot."
It seemed Mother had even mentioned it to her over the phone a few days before she fell into her coma.
It was just that Soyo hadn't paid it any mind at the time. Ah.. how derelict of me.
Soyo felt she'd let Chiose down somewhat, but she didn't know how she was supposed to make up for it.
The only methods she could think of were to give the other better living conditions, and to make sure the other never wanted for food or drink.
That should be enough to make up for it, right.
As the ginseng chicken soup was set on the table, Chiose, who had been silent all this while, slowly spoke up.
Her voice was clear and bright, putting Soyo's heart at ease:
"Grandma says! When you're sick you have to eat ginseng chicken soup!"
"Hm? Mm..."
Mama seemed to have said something similar when Soyo was little; Soyo vaguely remembered that back then Mama had also said..
"Mama! Ginseng chicken soup is good for the eyes—let's eat it together."
"My eyes are perfectly fine, you know."
"Then why are the rims of Mama's eyes so often red?"
"Ha? You little thing."
Could it be that, back when she'd been drinking alone and grieving at Mother's house, this little one had been watching her the whole time?
To think she'd even be thinking of showing concern for her mother... She still doesn't know I'm not her birth mother, does she.
Then again, a child probably couldn't sort out concepts like these, and explaining would be a hassle—better to wait until she's a bit older to talk about it.
The ginseng chicken soup tasted very light; Soyo quite liked this sort of feeling.
Chiose gave the chicken a gentle nudge with her chopsticks and it came right off the bone; the next instant, Chiose picked up the chicken and placed it into.. Soyo's bowl?
"I can serve myself food, there's no need to.."
"Eat a bit more, Mama. I put you through so much trouble today—being in the hospital must have taken up a lot of Mama's time."
"..."
Who on earth did this child learn this from—how is she so considerate!
Nagasaki Soyo felt her conscience being put to the question; in her eyes, Chiose seemed almost to be glowing.
Gulp——
She realized that, compared to Chiose, she was rather like some dim, damp reptile crawling around in the sewer.
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