Late at night, Soyo couldn't sleep.
In the end, she had managed to coax Little Chiose back, but her heart had grown heavy once again.
The various wounds of childhood take a lifetime to soothe, yet as time passes, people come to realize that every single thing that happens for the rest of their lives is merely a miniature of their childhood.
Soyo had washed Chiose clean and carried her into bed, and the two of them—mother and daughter—whispered to each other until Chiose sank into deep sleep.
But Soyo simply couldn't fall asleep.
Even though Little Chiose, cradled in her arms, was soft and comfortable—the very best kind of sleeping pillow—Soyo still couldn't drift off into dreamland no matter what.
Many memories of her mother had only begun to surface, little by little, alongside Chiose's arrival, ever since her mother fell into a coma and was hospitalized.
What kind of person had her mother really been?
Soyo remembered that her mother had been a very strong, successful woman—out in the world, facing all manner of challenges and the danger-ridden crises of business, she had seemed utterly impregnable.
At home, though, she would become lively and cheerful, even more like a little girl than Soyo herself.
She was amazing, wasn't she?
She... sometimes she made Soyo feel as if she were actually hiding a great many things.
Behind every single smile after coming home, what sort of pressure and bitterness had she been concealing?
"Hah..."
Rising to her feet, slipping them into the childish, adorable bunny-ear slippers, Soyo walked downstairs.
No lights on, the curtains open, the moon the only source of light in the room.
[Go home.]
Soyo wanted to go home.
Not to the house she had bought... but to that home in her memory that felt so devoid of human warmth, that place her mother had bought and then loudly shown off to her, fishing for praise...
Mother had always been so adorable like that...
Picking the car keys up off the table, Soyo couldn't bear to stay another moment.
The child was already asleep; tonight was a complete defeat for the no-staying-up-late faction.
She drove away from the seaside, a chaotic jumble of responses echoing through her mind.
[Go home...]
[Even if it's just standing at the doorway in a daze, I have to go back and take a look...]
[What exactly did Mother say back then? What did Mother do afterward? Why...]
[Why was the teddy bear stitched up and finally end up in Little Chiose's hands?]
People always go searching for answers carrying their questions. Waiting alone for the red light to change on the deserted road of the Yoho District, Soyo rolled down the car window to let the fresh air rush in.
"The air no longer carries the scent of seawater."
But inside the car there was still Little Chiose's scent—a lingering, gentle, distinctive fragrance, that peculiar perfume unique to the wild lilies blooming in a valley just before they wither.
It was only two streets away from the old address now.
The shops and greenery along the street hadn't changed much since the last time she'd passed by, but compared to decades ago, it had been transformed beyond recognition.
Standing below the building, stepping into the elevator, and at last swiftly standing before the door.
"..."
She hadn't brought a key, so all she could do was truly stand there at the doorway.
There was a fingerprint lock, actually, but Soyo simply couldn't lift her hand to press her thumb onto the corresponding spot.
Her hand felt as if it weighed a thousand catties—already beyond the weight that Soyo's life could bear.
Perhaps it was because she could sense that a part of her former memories lay sealed away behind that door.
That place where she had endured countless nights all alone was just inside that door—the Nagasaki residence, where her mother had occasionally come to live afterward but which had likely gone unvisited for a very long time, was right here.
Right...
Beep——
Even Soyo herself didn't know how she had raised her hand or how she had pressed it down, but when her senses returned, she found herself already standing in the very center of the living room.
Everything her gaze could catch was familiar furniture.
Soyo had originally thought she might never return for the rest of her life, yet on a sleepless night like this, she had somehow graced this place with her presence once more.
What was she supposed to do next? Complain about her mother, complain about herself, complain about everyone to an empty room like some sort of failure, and then flee back to the seaside to sleep beside her daughter?
"Sigh..."
She passed by her own room, but had no intention of going inside.
Nagasaki Soyo chose to go upstairs.
Her two feet carried her stiff body to just outside her mother's bedroom.
Should she open the door? She somehow felt she could find something inside.
Her mother had always been great, but Soyo was even more interested in the things her mother had hidden away... Her mother was probably just like her—only showing the best side of herself as much as possible.
So, Mother, will you let me understand you a little better...
The me of now has also become a mother, and at last I have the chance... to come to understand you.
The door creaked, and a faint scent of dust wafted into her face.
The room really hadn't been lived in for a long time.
It seemed that ever since five years ago, when she'd bought her mother a new house, this place had been left vacant.
Nagasaki Soyo pressed the light switch as she went, and the room was illuminated after so long.
This was her mother's room, a place without too much decoration.
Even back when she had lived here as a child, aside from cleaning, Soyo had hardly ever come in here.
But there was no doubt that here she could absolutely fill in many memories about her mother. This was also the reason Soyo had come home.
It was only a dozen-some years into adulthood that Soyo had begun to want to understand her own mother.
The room's furnishings, in truth, had nothing much worth mentioning—just a simple, elegant arrangement.
One wall was lake-green, and all the rest was pure white; beside the large bed in the center of the bedroom sat her mother's writing desk.
Brushing away the thin layer of dust on the grayish-brown desk, Soyo discovered a family photo.
Although... the part with her father in it had been cut away.
What about the rest? The desk was very large; there couldn't possibly be just one photograph.
Looking up along the bookshelf, there were many files and old books, and—mm—Soyo even saw her own elementary and middle school textbooks, neatly collected by her mother and placed inside a glass cabinet door.
Many fragmentary memories began to surface. Soyo recalled a time when her mother had come home, lain across her lap, and acted spoiled with her.
"Pfft..."
Back then, Mother had been more like the daughter.
Honestly, perhaps Mother... she hadn't been ready to be a mother either.
And on top of that, she was just like Soyo—a single mother.
Carving out her own territory in a city that changed with each passing day, Ms. Nagasaki's abilities had been, without a doubt, formidable... Soyo remembered one sports day in fifth grade of elementary school when only her mother had come with her.
Her mother hadn't been wealthy at the time, but she had still chosen to use every last bit of her spare cash to buy Soyo an order of takoyaki.
Mm...
In a daze, Soyo let out a sigh of murky breath. Her vision was blurry, but she still made out the silver needle in the corner and... a ball of yarn?
Sensing something was off, Nagasaki Soyo pulled the drawer straight open, and sure enough, she saw a small bag of cotton stuffing inside the drawer.
This... this...
Were these the tools her mother had used to stitch up her teddy bear for her?
So every time her mother came home when she was little and hid away in her room—it turned out she had been doing these things?
Ah...
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