Between Yesterday & Tomorrow

By the time morning rolled around, I felt like I’d been awake for three days straight and lost at least two of them to existential dread.
    Stretching and shaking off the remnants of sleep like a dog after a downpour, I threw on the first outfit I could find and headed for the hospital. It had only been a day, but after everything that happened, wild horses couldn’t have kept me from getting my sister out of there.
    “You’re here for Azusa Kurokawa, yes?” the front desk staff asked as I approached.
    “Yeah. I’m here to pick her up.”
     “She’s already cleared for discharge. Just a moment.”
     Moments later, Azusa emerged from the hallway, escorted by a nurse. As soon as she spotted me, she raised her whiteboard with impeccable speed.
     “Took you long enough.”
     I let out a dry laugh.
     “Didn’t know you were in such a hurry to leave the land of free pudding.”
     She rolled her eyes in response. A familiar gesture, and one I’d somehow missed.
     “Come on, let’s get going.”
    The moment we stepped out through the hospital’s main entrance, my gaze drifted—no, locked—onto a silver car idling by the curb. And wouldn’t you know it—leaning against it like a post-credits cameo was a woman in a wisteria-coloured kimono, arms folded, sunglasses perched on her nose like the finishing touch to a fashion crime scene.
    She took them off and waved. Dramatically.
     Here I thought that woman was the epitome of subtlety. Guess all that had long since been donated to charity.
    Azusa tilted her board, puzzled: “Who’s that?”
     “Chiyo,” I explained. “She’s actually Kotoha’s aunt. One that runs a tea parlor.”
     Azusa tugged lightly at my shirt, face caught between a dozen questions.
     “Don’t worry,” I said, patting her shoulder. “Chiyo’s eccentric, but you can trust her.”
     She gave me a look like I’d just handed her a cursed talisman and told her to keep it warm.
     “Ah, Kaoru my boy,” Chiyo greeted as we approached. “Took you long enough.”
    “I don’t recall making an appointment. What brings you here?”
    “Oh. Coincidence,” she replied, wearing that mischievous smirk meant solely for her.
    “Sure... and a comet’s scheduled to crash into my apartment this afternoon.”
    With Chiyo, coincidence ranked somewhere between urban legend and tax evasion. And asking her for a straight answer was like asking a cat to pay rent.
    Azusa glanced between us and scribbled: “Psychic?”
    “Something like that.”
    “You must be Azusa,” Chiyo said, kneeling slightly to meet her eye-level.
    She’d worked up her sweetest voice, like a seasoned con artist greeting their next mark—but the kind that offers tea and life advice instead of financial ruin. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from your brother.”
    Azusa blushed and immediately ducked behind me like I was her personal anti-social firewall.
    “Don’t worry,” I said. “Chiyo means well. Probably.”
    Azusa didn’t seem too reassured, but her whiteboard read: “I hope so too.”
    “Please, just call me Chiyo,” she said with a wink. “I’m certain we’ll get along just fine.”
    “Hop in, we’re leaving,” she added, proceeding to unlock the car with a chirp.
    “Where to?”
    “You two haven’t eaten yet, have you?”
    “Not really…”
    Azusa shook her head so vigorously I was briefly worried she’d unscrew it.
    “Come along, then. I can’t, in good conscience, let my dear companions wander the mortal plane on empty stomachs.”
    “Please take care of us,” Azusa wrote dutifully.
    I slid into the passenger seat while Azusa climbed into the back. As we pulled out of the lot, I glanced at her in the rearview mirror. She was studying Chiyo like an especially chaotic Sudoku puzzle—part awe, part concern, part who even is this woman.
    I knew the feeling well.
    Chiyo’s car was surprisingly normal. Disappointingly so, if I might add.
    I was half-expecting something more… Chiyo-esque. A hearse with flower decals, or a vintage convertible that ran on incense and incantations.
    Reading my thoughts—because of course she did—Chiyo smiled without taking her eyes off the road.
    “It’s what a perfectly normal person would drive, Kaoru.”
    “I still find it hard to believe you drive this by choice. What happened? Did your magical broom go on strike?”
    “I lent it to a tengu with a midlife crisis. Poor thing wanted to feel young again,” she replied with a chuckle, brushing a stray hair behind her ear.
    “So here you are, back on the road like a common mortal. I see the all-seeing psychic still needs a license.”
    “Even I can’t drive with my eyes closed, my dear boy.”
    “Really? Here I thought you had everything figured out.”
    “Auto-pilot’s not available yet. Still waiting on the Guugle Divination update for the local GPS.”
    “Right. So we’re one wrong turn from getting isekai’d via compact sedan.”
    “Indeed. Would be such a pain to explain to the hospital if I returned your sister possessed by a vending machine spirit right after she’d gotten discharged.”
I glanced back at Azusa, blissfully unaware, drawing little spirals on the fogged-up window.
    “I would very much like you not to endanger the safety of the only two passengers in this realm.”
    “Oh dear,” she sighed. “There go my grand designs of dimensional time-travel.”
For all the nonsense we’d just exchanged, there wasn’t a single doubt in my mind that our resident driver-psychic—eyes closed or not—would get us to our destination in one piece.
    Whether that destination was breakfast… or a back-alley summoning circle? Well, that part remained unclear.
     But sure enough, after a few more turns and one suspiciously meaningful glance from a passing crow, the familiar signage of Ushinoya loomed into view—glowing like a beacon for the hungry, the broke, and the narratively cornered.
     “…This is your idea of ordinary?” I asked as we stepped out.
     “It’s a family restaurant,” Chiyo declared, gesturing like she was unveiling a royal banquet. “It doesn’t get more ordinary than this!”
     She led the way inside, humming some tune lost to time, her kimono sleeves swaying with every step—like she’d just stepped off the set of an Edo-period travel ad and decided to cosplay as chaos in heels.
     Azusa and I followed in silence, while ran the calculations of the odds of this turning into a breakfast, a riddle, or some elaborate trap disguised as pancakes.
     But honestly, I was too hungry to care.

“Nothing like a good meal to get things going~” Chiyo stretched her arms overhead with a satisfied sigh.
     I stifled a yawn, rubbing at my eyes as we slid into the booth. My brain was lagging by at least three frames.
     Across from me, Chiyo wore that infuriatingly amused smile. For no reason. Just because she could.
     “Oh dear, Kaoru, you look absolutely dreadful.”
     I let my head flop against the table like a dying seal.
     “You showing up unannounced is why I’m aging ten years ahead of schedule. At this rate, I’ll die before my pension even kicks in.”
     She gasped theatrically, pressing a hand to her chest in feigned distress.
     “How tragic! And here I thought I was a guiding light in your otherwise dreary existence.”
     Azusa, flipping through the menu, covered her mouth with one hand as her shoulders trembled.
     Traitor.
     “Yeah, yeah. A guiding light that barges in uninvited and reroutes my entire day.”
    “Oh? You had a schedule? I wasn’t aware that moping around counted as one.”
    I gave her the flattest look known to mankind. Azusa giggled—soundlessly, of course—but the betrayal still stung.
    Chiyo latched onto my sister gleefully.
    “See? Azusa appreciates me. You should take notes.”
    “You’re fun to watch. I kind-of like you already,” Azusa wrote.
    “Am I now?” Chiyo clutched her cheeks like she'd just won a pageant. “How flattering, my dear.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Between you and me, I think your brother secretly enjoys our banter—but he’s far too shy to admit it.”
    “Of course. That’s exactly what this is—me enjoying the constant psychological warfare.
    You’re definitely not a bad influence at all.”
    Azusa’s shoulders were shaking again. In laughter.
    “Don’t be mean to Chiyo!”
    “I’m the villain now?!”
    A two-pronged assault. How was I supposed to fight back against that?
    Thankfully, salvation arrived in the form of food. The waitress placed our trays on the table, and for a moment, I genuinely considered starting a religion in her honour.
    Chiyo picked up her chopsticks, lifting a piece of meat with reverence.
   “A fine choice, if I say so myself.”
    Azusa clapped her hands together in a silent itadakimasu and took a careful bite—then another, like she was prepping for a speed-eating tournament.
    “You see? Impeccable taste,” Chiyo said proudly.
    I scoffed, but didn’t argue. To each their own. The food was good. But saying it out loud felt like conceding.
    Eventually, Chiyo turned to Azusa. “So, tell me—what’s it like having Kaoru as a brother?”
    Ah. So we’re going straight for the jugular now.
    Azusa reached for her board with the urgency of a squirrel stockpiling for winter.
    “Reliable… but he’s a real handful.”
    “Gee. Thanks.”
    Honestly? A pretty generous review. I could get by with that.
    “The same goes for you,” I muttered. Not that anyone acknowledged it.
    “Ah, the delicate balance of sibling love,” Chiyo mused.
    Azusa paused before writing again: “I think he worries too much.”
    A rare wistfulness surfaced behind Chiyo’s usual mirth.
    “The burdens of an older sibling… how lovely.”
    “Aren’t you in the same boat?” I asked, shooting her a questioning glance. She was acting like she’d just remembered something mildly inconvenient.
    “You mean my dear family? Has Kotoha been gossiping?”
    “She said you’re not exactly on speaking terms.”
    Chiyo chuckled lightly while Azusa shot her a look brimming with unspoken questions.
    “That’s putting it generously.”
    “Do you not get along with your family?”
    “Oh my, such sweethearts,” Chiyo said, folding her hands like a benevolent aunt. “You make me want to spoil you both even more.”
    She spun a chopstick thoughtfully between her fingers, her voice settling into something milder.
   “Old families get stuck—in pride, in tradition, in who they think you should be. If you don’t fit the mould, you’re the loose screw.”
    A loose screw, huh…
    This woman definitely checked more than one box.
    “They cut you off?”
    She dismissed the question with a wave.
    “More like I was politely encouraged to remove myself from the family portrait. I just hope Kotoha doesn’t become a carbon copy of my sister and our charming parents.”
    “She won’t.”
    Chiyo raised a brow, my firmer-than-intended tone not escaping her. But instead of pushing it, she let out a snicker.
    “Not yet. We’ll see.”
    I had a feeling she had just penciled my fate into her mental calendar.
    “Do you regret it?” Azusa wrote hesitantly.
   “Regret? Hardly. I’m living my best life.” She reached across and lightly tapped my forehead with the clean end of her chopsticks. “And so should you. Especially you.”
    Probably the least grown-up thing Chiyo’s ever said.
    Or maybe the most.
    It didn’t make her sound any more callous for acting that way.
   Am I misunderstanding something?
   Man, I don’t know at all.
    I exhaled, resting my chopsticks across the bowl. “I’m trying. For Azusa’s sake, more than my own.”
    “Ah. So you’ve finally decided to stop living like a tragic side character.”
    “Something like that.”
   I glanced down at the half-empty bowl.
   “It’s just… after everything, I don’t want to stay stuck in rewind. But figuring out what ‘play’ looks like isn’t exactly in the tutorial.”
   Chiyo rested her chin in her palm, studying me with her soft gaze.
   “That’ll do for now. It’s the intention that counts.”
   Azusa perked up, scribbling quickly: “Is there anything you can do to help us?”
   “Oh, I might just have the perfect thing in mind,” Chiyo said, smiling knowingly.
   “And that is?”
   She raised a finger to her lips, barely hiding a dangerous grin.
   “A secret.”
   “Again with the secrets,” I groaned in disbelief. “Can you be serious for once?”
   “It’s not a secret-secret. Just something that requires a little preparation. Patience, my dear boy.”
   “…Right.”
   “Anyway!” She clapped her hands together cheerfully, about to reveal her master plan. “I have something far more pressing to discuss.”
    Azusa and I exchanged a sibling glance reserved for emergencies, ready to brace for impact.
    “And that would be?”
   With all the flair of a stage magician, Chiyo pulled a folded flyer from her sleeve and slid it across the table.
   “Behold! The shining pinnacle of summer civilization—paper lanterns, goldfish scooping, and enough yakisoba to bribe a minor deity!”
   The bold words Summer Festival blazed across the page in festive print.
   “Of course. It had to be this.”
   “Not just this.” She exclaimed enthusiastically, “The most anticipated festival of the summer. Fireworks! Food stalls! Lively performances! It’s literally the event of the season!”
   Azusa’s eyes lit up.
   “No,” I said immediately, setting down my chopsticks. “Whatever you’re about to propose, the answer is no.”
   Chiyo pouted. “Oh? And here I thought there might be someone you’d want to escort under the glow of fireworks.”
   Azusa gasped quietly.
   “I’m sure Kotoha wouldn’t mind if you asked her.”
   “Don’t even start. It’s not like that between us.”
   “Yet.”
   That gleam in Chiyo’s eyes wasn’t one you’d associate with sane people.
   Azusa pointed at the flyer with her finger.
   “It sounds fun!”
   “Why yes! A thousand times yes. You’d love it, Azusa.”
   She turned to me with those wide, innocent eyes that really ought to be outlawed.
   “Can we go?”
   “You don’t even like crowds.”
   “But Chiyo said it would be fun…”
   That’s rich coming from the same person who found the supermarket too overwhelming.
   “I’ll wear earplugs.”
   “You know that’s not the problem…”
   Across the table, Chiyo was glowing like a smug jack-o'-lantern.
   “Don’t be a party pooper, Kaoru.”
   Oh, she was enjoying this.
   Azusa added another line: “I want to go with you.”
   There it was. The critical hit.
   At this rate, I was being negotiated into submission by two professionals.
   “…I guess.”
   “It’s settled, then,” Chiyo declared.
   “I haven’t agreed to—”
   “Oh hush. I’ll handle everything.”
   That was a dangerous promise if I ever heard one.
   “And what does that mean?”
   “It means you’re both getting dressed properly.”
   Azusa tilted her head.
   “Yukatas, of course! Have you ever worn one?”
   The both of us shook our heads.
   “Perfect. We’re going shopping. By the time I’m done, you’ll both be festival-ready. Why, Kaoru might even pass for… charming.”
   That felt like a personal attack disguised as a compliment.
   “You’re just making plans for us on the go now, aren’t you?”
   Chiyo purred.
   “Kaoru, I was certain you’d love playing dress-up.”
   Azusa trembled with silent laughter, fully enjoying my public execution.
   “No complaints,” Chiyo added with a wicked grin. “It’s a necessary investment.”
   “Remind me again—who exactly is this investment for?”
   “For both of you, obviously. Consider it your grand reintroduction to society.”
   “…You make it sound like we’re shut-ins.”
   Half-right. But anyway.
   Azusa tugged my sleeve again, flashing her board: “Shopping does sounds fun.”
   “We don’t have a choice, dearest sister. But make no mistake, I’m not wearing anything weird.”
   “You can only resist for so long.”
   Oh no.
   We were marching straight into another one of Chiyo’s ‘adventures.’ May the gods have mercy on my dignity.
   After we exited the restaurant, Chiyo suddenly slowed, fishing out her phone from her sleeve.
   “Ah. Speak of the devil,” she muttered, checking the screen.
   “What is it?”
   “Nothing to worry about,” she replied breezily. “Just something I must attend to.”
   She stepped a few paces away to take the call.
   Azusa tapped my sleeve.
   “What’s going on?”
   Honestly, I didn’t know either and gave her a shrug.
   “You’ll get used to it.”

Chiyo brought us to a traditional fabrics store which, in weirdly nostalgic way, reminded me of her own tea parlor.
   The smell of tatami and bamboo mingled with the scent of something resembling fabric softener. Rows of wooden shelves lining the interior, each stacked with neatly folded textiles in every color and pattern imaginable.
   “Welcome—” A warm voice called from across the store before pausing with a note of recognition. “Oh, if it isn’t you again.”
    The voice belonged to a woman who greeted us with an elegant bow and the kind of refinement reserved for people who would never stub their toes in the dark.
   She stood a little shorter than Chiyo, with dark hazel eyes, long black hair tied into a single braid that fell past her waist. Her yukata had a retro-lolita flair that looked straight out of the Taisho era, but somehow she pulled it off.
    “I had a feeling you’d drop by soon, Chiyo,” the woman remarked with folded arms. “It’s been a while.”
   “You say that like we don’t share tea and talk shop every so often,” Chiyo replied with her clockwork smirk.
   “That’s business. This, I assume, is personal?”
   “But of course~ These two darlings are my guests today,” Chiyo said, gestured toward us excitedly.
   “My word. Quite the rare sight. I see you’ve taken to mentoring impressionable youth these days,” the store owner said, giving me a passing glance before focusing on Azusa.
   Azusa flinched and promptly ducked behind me.
   Naturally, I was just doing my duty again as her licensed emotional support animal.
   “Oh, you know me. I can’t resist meddling in the lives of cute little siblings.”
   Wait, what?
   “Extremely misleading, Chiyo,” I said pointedly.
   “No need to be nervous. Any guest of Chiyo’s is a guest of mine. You’re in good hands.” She offered a respectful nod followed by a small gesture resembling a curtsey. “I’m Shigure Sasamori, the current owner of this humble establishment. A pleasure.”
   “Nice to meet you,” Azusa wrote with some reservations.
   I caught the barest twitch in Shigure’s brow—likely from registering Azusa’s manner of greeting—but her warm smile never faded.
   “A polite one. I like her already.”
   Chiyo placed a hand on Azusa’s shoulder, her voice turning dangerously sweet.
   “Let’s get you properly dressed, shall we? Shigure here is the best in the business.”
   Azusa’s eyes darted toward me, silently requesting the official brotherly seal of approval—which, naturally, I granted with a small ‘okay’ gesture.
   As if sensing her unease, Shigure adopted a lighter tone.
   “Why don’t we start with colors and patterns? You can pick whatever catches your eye.”
   Azusa let herself be led toward the yukata display, albeit with some reluctance. Her fingers initially grazing the fabrics like she was afraid they might disintegrate under pressure.
   “Well… that worked fast.”
   Chiyo tapped her cheek thoughtfully.
   “Mmm… that’s one of Shigure’s rare talents. She has a way of making people relax before they even realize it.
   Were all of Chiyo’s associates this disarming, or was I just surrounded by some secret cabal of dangerously competent women?
   “You bring guests here often?” I asked, trying not to sound too accusatory.
   Shigure, who clearly caught that, let out a soft chuckle.
   “Chiyo’s an excellent patron. She tends to bring in plenty of... interesting business. Though she rarely shops for herself.” She gave Chiyo a side glance. “Personally, I’d love to see her in my fitting room more often.”
   “You wound me, Shigure. Didn’t I get my last kimono tailored here? You’re the only one I trust.”
   “Flattery gets you nowhere, Chiyo.”
   I glanced around. Even to an amateur like me, the quality of the fabrics was obvious. The embroidery on some of them looked worthy of a museum exhibit titled Craftsmanship That Will Bankrupt You.
   A dangerous thought struck me.
   “…These clothes aren’t cheap, are they?”
   “How astute,” Chiyo chimed, materializing behind me like a cheerful debt collector.
   “Absolutely reassuring.”
   “Oh, don’t worry,” she waved off breezily. “Think of it as my investment in your aesthetic development.”
   “And that doesn’t concern you at all?”
   “Once Chiyo sets her mind on something, there’s no stopping her,” Shigure added, sounding far too entertained by my growing distress.
   “You know me so well~” Chiyo winked.
   I rubbed my temples. We hadn’t even started and my stress budget was already in the red. Might as well hire a financial advisor while I was at it.
    Meanwhile, Azusa had warmed up fast. Shigure and Chiyo were now engaged in what could only be described as a tag-team fashion show, presenting options as if they were stylists prepping a celebrity for a red carpet.
   “How about this one, Azusa dear?” Chiyo held up a pale orange yukata patterned with koi. “It matches your aura~”
   Before Azusa could even react, Chiyo snagged another off the rack. “Oh—but this pink one is absolutely precious! Now I can’t decide.”
   Shigure, utterly unfazed, offered the most dangerous solution possible:
   “Why not try both?”
   “Excellent idea!” Chiyo sparkled. “Come, come! Aunt Chiyo shall assist you herself~”
   Azusa’s cowered like she’d accidentally triggered a boss fight cutscene.
   She turned to me with a silent plea that basically screamed: Please save me! I returned a look that calmly replied: May the spirits be with you, soldier.
   And thus, she was abducted behind the curtain.
   I leaned against the counter, settling in for whatever this was now, until Shigure glided back beside me with the stealth of a cat burglar.
   “You’re surprisingly composed for someone being forcibly inducted into high society.”
   I gave her a sidelong glance in response to her remark.
   “Am I?”
   “I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable.”
   Shigure, unlike Chiyo, had the emotional effect of a warm compress and a full night’s sleep. It was comfortable just being around her.
   “Not at all,” I said. “The only threat to my mental stability is the woman dragging my sister into multiple costume changes.”
   “She’s a handful, yes,” Shigure chuckled in agreement. “But she has a good eye for people. I suspect she sees something special in you two.”
   “…Hard to argue when you put it like that, Miss Shigure.”
   “Well, as far as Chiyo is concerned, she rarely invests her time in people without a reason.”
   “You seem to know her well.”
   “Oh, did Chiyo not mention? We were classmates in high school.”
   “…Huh?!”
   My jaw made a valiant attempt at detaching itself. Reality had apparently patched my character bio without consulting me.
   “As fellow heirs to long-standing family trades, we had a great deal in common,” Shigure continued smoothly. “That said… between the two of us, Chiyo was always the bigger oddball.”
   That… checked out. Horrifyingly so.
   “I never would’ve guessed.”
   “She chose freedom. I stayed behind and inherited the business. But I don’t regret it,” Shigure said, running a hand down the length of her neatly fashioned braid. “Still, I do admire how she’s managed to build a life out of chasing whim after whim.”
   Our little chat was cut short by the telltale rustling of fabric behind the curtain.
   Azusa emerged in a peach-hued yukata embroidered with intricate floral motifs, standing stiff like she wasn’t entirely sure if this counted as public indecency or ceremonial cosplay.
Chiyo clasped her hands together like a stage mother watching her prodigy’s big debut.
   “It’s perfect!”
   Azusa threw me an uncertain glance suggesting a silent Well?
   Once again, I gave her my official brotherly seal of approval—a solid thumbs-up—promptly seconded by Shigure.
   “Lovely fit.”
   “Told you so~” Chiyo chirped before promptly spinning her back toward the changing room. “Now, let’s try the next one!”
   Azusa was swiftly swept away again like a soldier redeployed to the front lines.
   Shigure turned her attention to me next.
   “Now then. Your turn.”
   “…I don’t see why not. I’ll leave it to your judgement.”
   “Wonderful.” She motioned toward the men’s section with the grace reminiscent of a certain tea hostess.
   The cycle repeated. Azusa emerged in one yukata after another, each somehow more elegant than the last, while Chiyo circled her like her personal stylist-slash-overenthusiastic pageant mom.
   Meanwhile, I loitered like a man auditioning for the role of 'supportive furniture'—quietly eyeing the racks for something that wouldn’t outright label me a fashion victim in training.
   “You’ve made your choice already?” a voice purred right beside me—precisely as I was about to commit to what I thought might become my greatest (or most regrettable) fashion decision.
   “GAAH—!”
   I nearly launched the fabric across the room. Chiyo had materialized over my shoulder, looking entirely too pleased with herself.
   “Relax. You look like I just caught you shoplifting from the women’s section.”
   “Would you not say things like that in public?”
   She peeked at my selection, visibly intrigued.
   “Well, well… someone’s indecisive.”
   “…I haven’t even decided if it suits me.”
   Chiyo sighed with performative disappointment, “Hopeless.” With a snap of her fingers like she was summoning backup, Shigure materialized right on cue.
   “Of course~”
   “Wait, hold on—”
   Before I could mount a defense, a folded yukata was unceremoniously deposited into my arms.
   “I don’t even know if this fits—”
   “That’s why it’s called trying it on,” Chiyo said sweetly.
   “Not to worry, “I’ve already taken your measurements into consideration,” Shigure added with a knowing smile and my brain bluescreened.
   I glanced between the two women, who exchanged a glance and, in perfect unison, smiled in coordinated impish sync.
   Danger. Danger everywhere.
   At that exact moment, Azusa emerged just in time to witness my downfall. She tried to keep it together but ultimately offered an encouraging wave—one that doubled as good luck, my dear brother.
   My sigh that followed could’ve powered a wind turbine.
   I swear. These women are terrifying.
   A few minutes later, I stepped out from behind the curtain, adjusting the sleeves of my new yukata. The fabric draped comfortably—suspiciously so.
   Shigure’s attention to detail was no joke…
   Predictably, both women lit up like judges at a talent show.
   Azusa’s eyes sparkled, somewhere between awe and did my brother just get a glow-up? She wasted no time flipping up her board: “You’re looking really good!”
   Shigure, ever the professional, gave me a quick once-over before nodding.
   “I am in full agreement. A fine choice indeed.”
   “You look fabulous, Kaoru,” Chiyo chimed, sauntering closer like she was ready to auction me off. “Dare I say, you could charm a lucky lady or two dressed like that.”
   I instinctively shuffled back half a step. “Spoken like one of the few women reckless enough to get involved with me.”
   “Oh my, are you trying to hit on me now?” she teased, wiggling her brows with dangerous enthusiasm.
   “Spare me, Chiyo. I lose a few minutes off my life every time you say something terrifying.”
   “Aww.” She pouted, looking entirely too satisfied.
   Shigure chuckled softly before reverting to her professional tone. “How does it feel? Any discomfort?”
   I flexed my arms slightly, testing the fit.
   “Surprisingly good. I was expecting burrito-level suffocation, but it’s breathable. Snug, but not strangling.”
   “As it should be.” Shigure nodded. “A garment should fit its wearer—not bind them.”
   With that, I retreated back behind the curtain like a man escaping with whatever shreds of dignity remained.
   Naturally, just as I slid it shut, Chiyo’s voice rang out across the store:
   “Ahh, such a shame. That sight wasted on just us old ladies~”
   …I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear that.

Outside, Azusa was fidgeting with the strap of the cloth bag now dangling from her shoulder, casting occasional glances toward the counter where our garments were being finalized. She lifted her whiteboard toward Chiyo, eyes darting with mild concern.
   “Is this really a good idea?”
   Chiyo waved a hand as if brushing off the concept of fiscal responsibility.
   “No need to fret, my dear. I have a very good relationship with this shop, you see~”
   “That sounds suspiciously like cheating.”
   “Now that is a terrible thing to accuse me of,” Chiyo huffed, folding her arms with feigned indignation. “I would never exploit a friend’s generosity.”
   I turned to Shigure with the expression of a man double-checking whether the fire alarm was real or just another one of Chiyo’s social drills.
   “Are you really fine with this, Miss Shigure?”
   “It’s perfectly fine. Chiyo’s been a faithful client for years. Letting her spoil her guests once in a while is a small price to pay,” Shigure answered cheerfully as she wrapped up our spoils with ease.
   “Right? And besides—” Chiyo jumped on the opening like she’d been waiting for the cue, “—I do take care of dear Shigure in many ways.”
   “It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement,” Shigure agreed smoothly.
   Chiyo patted my shoulder like a benevolent loan shark.
   “All you two need to do is smile and accept the goodwill of your sponsor.”
   “Then… I’ll treasure this. Thank you Chiyo!” Azusa wrote delightedly.
   Seeing no viable escape routes, I offered the only form of surrender acceptable.
   “…Thanks for the generous gifts, Chiyo.”
   “There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
   Thus concluded my formal adoption by chaos.
   There was no undoing it now.
   “…I feel like I lost something in this exchange.”
   Shigure bundled up the garments and passed them over to Chiyo, who handled it like she was picking up groceries rather than half a boutique.
   “Thanks for having us, Miss Shigure.” I offered her a small bow.
   “You’re very welcome. I hope to see you all again,” she returned with a graceful nod as she saw us off.
   As we were leaving, Chiyo leaned in toward Shigure, dropping her voice into an exaggerated whisper.
   “What about my request?”
   “I haven’t forgotten. It’s part of the arrangement.”
   Judging by how they phrased it, you’d think they were plotting world domination.
   “Knew I could count on you~”
   “As long as you keep bringing me business, we’re even.”
   Honestly, I had no clue what that was about, and I was certain I’d live longer not finding out.
   Discretion being the better part of not dying, I quietly followed Azusa out the door.
   “This is way more exhausting than I expected...”
   “Oh?” Chiyo chirped sweetly, catching up. “Here I thought you were a man of endurance.”
   “No, no—you’re the exception. You drain me on a spiritual level.”
   Chiyo turned to Azusa, putting on the airs of a wronged empress.
   “Azusa! Your meanie of a brother is saying cruel things again! What ever shall I do?”
   Azusa raised her whiteboard, looking a little more tired than bothered: “I’m not taking sides, but… I am a little exhausted from all that shopping…”
   As if she had been presented with a perfect excuse, Chiyo flipped a switch.
   “Then it’s settled! We’ll go grab some refreshments~”
   “There she goes again…”
   And just like that, we were once again abducted by the human embodiment of whimsical impulse.

Azusa was halfway through her donut, chomping like a rabbit that had just discovered caffeine. So much for delicacy—though in her defence, Chiyo had picked the most secluded table in the patisserie, safely tucked into a corner where prying eyes and ears were of no concern.
   She’s being oddly considerate again… how very carefree. I thought, watching her casually sipping her tea like this was any other pleasant afternoon.
   “Kaoru dear,” Chiyo murmured, lazily swirling her spoon like a bored villainess waiting for Act II, “you don’t have to treat every situation like a grand conspiracy.”
   “I can’t help it when you’re involved.”
   “So little trust,” she clicked her tongue lightly. “I’m not some predator about to devour you.”
   “My self-preservation instincts would like to disagree.”
   Azusa cut in between bites, holding up her board: “You run a tea parlour, don’t you, Chiyo?”
   “That’s correct, my dear.”
   “Can I visit sometime?”
   Chiyo lit up instantly. “I’d be delighted! You’re welcome anytime—provided your overprotective brother gives his royal permission.”
   “Of course you can,” I sighed. There was no reality where I’d win that one.
   There wasn’t really any scenario where I’d win that one.
   Her smile could’ve powered national infrastructure.
   At this rate, she was already bonding with Chiyo like they'd known each other for years. My sister, master of rapid assimilation.
   Chiyo, meanwhile, looked like she’d just secured exclusive distribution rights to a new favorite niece.
   Kotoha may have serious competition now.
   And me? I was starting to feel severely outnumbered.

“Pardon me. Miss Chiyo. And... Mr. Kurokawa, was it?”
   A polite, unfamiliar voice burst our bubble.
   An older man stood beside our table, posture stiff enough to qualify as medically concerning. Late fifties, silver-streaked hair, neatly trimmed mustache, glasses, simple button-up and slacks.
   Zero recognition.
   “I’m sorry, but who—?”
   “Ah, you’ve arrived,” Chiyo interrupted smoothly, setting down her teacup. “Let me introduce you, Kaoru. This is Mr. Hiroki Arai.”
   Nope, still didn’t ring a bell.
   “Mr. Arai used to work at a certain post office you’re… familiar with.”
   And just like that, the dots connected. My stomach tightened.
   Azusa gasped, dropping her marker.
   “What are you trying to pull?!” My chair scraped against the floor when I stood up.
   Chiyo raised a hand calmly.
   “Listen, Kaoru. I’m not doing this for my amusement. I don’t play games with the trauma of my clients.”
   Her violet eyes—normally filled with mischief—were dead serious.
   I sat back down. Slowly. Mr. Arai stood there, visibly uncomfortable.
   “It wasn’t my idea,” Chiyo continued. “He asked for this meeting. I just arranged it.”
   “…Fine.”
   Might as well hear what the man wanted.
   Chiyo stood, motioning to Azusa.
   “Come, dear. Let’s give your brother some privacy.”
   Azusa looked torn, but I nodded.
   “It’s okay. Go.”
   She followed reluctantly.
   “Well then! I’ll leave you gentlemen to your serious talk. Take all the time you need~” Chiyo added, vanishing like a spring storm.
   Hiroki Arai.
   A name I’d never heard until today. Yet it felt tangled up with me somehow.
   Mr. Arai cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses.
   “I should introduce myself properly, Mr. Kurokawa.”
   “Just call me Kaoru.”
   He gave a brief nod before continuing.
   “As Miss Chiyo said, I worked at the post office. I was there that day... when the robbery happened.”
   My fingers twitched under the table, but I said nothing.
   “You might not remember me, but I was the clerk who got shot,” he said, gesturing to his shoulder where the scar must have been.
   And suddenly, everything came flooding back.
   The sound of the gunshot. The scent of blood in the air. The clerk collapsing behind the counter. Cries of terror.
   I reminded myself to breathe.
   Of course I remembered. My brain had never let me forget.
   “How could I ever forget…?”

That day had started like any other weekday.
   Mom took Azusa and me to run errands at the post office. The place wasn’t crowded yet. While Mom handled paperwork, Azusa and I sat off to the side.
   I had been absently watching people come and go, when I noticed a certain man in a bomber jacket.
   Fidgety hands. Twitchy eyes. Unsteady movements.
   The kind of guy you instinctively didn’t want anywhere within a five-foot radius of you.
   He had pushed past the queue—shoved my mom to the floor—and pulled out a gun, pointing it at the counter.
   Threats were issued. Chaos followed.
   The man’s voice boomed as he waved his gun, yelling incoherently at the male clerk, who had been standing frozen behind the counter, hands half-raised in surrender.
   He barked an order demanding money.
   The clerk—Mr. Arai, hesitated a moment too long.
   BANG.
   The sound of a gunshot rang through the air. Blood sprayed across the counter as he collapsed. The man in the bomber jacket yelled at everyone to get down on the floor. Screams erupted.
   Somewhere amidst the mess, I saw Azusa running toward towards Mom. Before she could reach her, the man in the bomber jacket shoved her roughly to the floor, then grabbed her by the collar and shook her violently.
   “Shut up, stupid kid!”
   Every nerve in my body screamed at me to do something, but I was rooted in place.
   Whether it was his impatience or delirious state that drove his actions, he had decided to point his gun at my sister instead.
   I stopped breathing. No thoughts came to mind except for something snapping.
   My legs moved before my mind caught up.
   I lunged and bit into the man’s wrist with all the desperation in my ten-year-old body. He howled in pain, momentarily loosening his grip on Azusa.
   The gun slipped from his grasp.
   We both dove for it. My fingers found the cold metal first.
   He lunged at me again, hands grabbing at my arms. We struggled, rolling against the ground, the weight of the gun pressing into my palms. My fingers clenched involuntarily—
   BANG.
   A sharp intake of breath and unnerving silence followed like time had stopped.
   The man stiffened, staring at his chest where blood blossomed. With a strangled groan, his eyes rolled backwards as he collapsed onto the ground with a deafening thud.
   Only when I’d met the faces filled with fear of everyone else, including my own mother, did realization sink in—
   That at the age of ten, I was staring down at the lifeless body of a man I had just killed.

“…You were there,” I finally muttered. “You watched everything unfold.”
   Mr. Arai nodded solemnly.
   “That I did.”
   It hit harder when someone else said it out loud.
   “…Then you know. I killed a man.”
   “Yes. You did.”
   I gritted my teeth.
   “But you also saved us.”
   My fists tightened. I couldn’t look him in the eye.
   “I—”
   “You think you should’ve done nothing? That the rest of us—adults—should’ve stood by while a child did what we couldn’t?”
   His gaze dropped down to his cup.
   “We failed you. We let a boy carry a burden that should never have been his.”
   My throat tightened, but no other words came.
   “I spent months in the hospital. Recovery was slow. But I lived. And every day since, I’ve carried the shame of leaving that burden to a child.” His voice shook a little. “I wanted to apologize,” he continued, meeting my eyes. “We left you alone with that pain. None of us spoke up. No one reached out. We all pretended if we moved on, it would stop existing.”
My hands felt strangely cold. I didn’t know how to respond.
   “So on behalf of everyone who was there that day…” His voice softened, no longer sounding like guilt, but something closer to prayer. “Thank you. For carrying what we didn’t.”
   No, stop.
   “…I don’t deserve that,” I whispered. Why was he apologizing?
   It all felt wrong.
   “You acted when the rest of us didn’t. You protected your sister. You saved my life. And because of you, I got to return home to my family.”
   He pulled out his phone and showed me a photo. A wedding portrait.
   Mr. Arai stood beside the newlyweds, their face bright with joy—framed in a moment that wouldn’t have otherwise existed.
   “That’s my daughter,” he said, pointing at the bride with pride. “She got married last month. I got to walk her down the aisle.”
   I made that happen…?
   “You see, Kaoru... that’s every father’s wish. And because of you, I got to be there.”
   I felt something in my chest crack. A weight. An exhaustion. Something giving way.
   “You’ve carried this burden long enough. You don’t have to anymore.”
   My eyes were becoming moist.
   “Huh? What?”
   Oh no.
   This wasn’t supposed to happen. My body had apparently skipped the part where I get a say.
   Mr. Arai placed his hand on my shoulder in understanding.
   “You deserved to hear that a long time ago. I’m sorry you could only hear it now.”
   “…Thank you.”

Yes. Those were the words nobody told me I needed to hear, but hearing them in person sheared away years of unspoken guilt and the chains that bound me.
   The suffocating weight had noticeably lightened.
   Mr. Arai stayed a while longer to finish his drink, making use of Chiyo’s goodwill in setting up this entire arrangement—and covering the bill, naturally. As did I.
   Honestly, there wasn’t much left for either of us to say.
   Sometimes, the heaviest conversations end not with some grand, cinematic closing line — but with a cup of coffee.
   So much for all that dramatic buildup.
   If this were one of those neatly written stories, the author would probably insert some tidy metaphor about closure right about now.
   You know the kind:
   The past is a weight you carry until you learn to set it down.
   The rain outside washing away old sins.
   The first breath of clean air after years underwater.
   ...But no such metaphor came to mind.
   I blame the author of my story for this injustice.
   At this point, I just felt tired. And maybe, if I dared admit it, light enough to actually stand a little straighter.
   Which, frankly, is probably as close to catharsis as someone like me gets.
   We exchanged our goodbyes — Mr. Arai shook my hand like I’d saved an entire nation or something, which we both knew wasn’t the case.
   “I don’t know if we’ll cross paths again,” he said, “but I hope you find the peace you deserve.”
I think he meant closure.
   But I’ll take either.

The sky overhead had darkened, clouds stacking like layers of old regrets finally ready to clear by the time I exited the store. Damp air wrapped around me—heavy, humid, and carrying that metallic sharpness that always shows up before the sky throws a tantrum.
   Before I forgot, I fired a brief text to Chiyo to inform her of the conclusion of our meeting:
   > It’s done.
   A reply came instantly as if she had been waiting with her finger already resting over the send button.
   > Good for you.
   > I’ll send Azusa home safely, so take your time.
   Always one step ahead, that woman. Before I could even start typing, another message arrived:
   > Don’t dawdle too long. A storm’s coming.
   I let out something halfway between a sigh and a laugh.
   Even now, she still managed to look out for me. Subtlety never was her strong suit when she decided so.
   > Will do.
   > And… thanks, Chiyo. For everything.
   I slipped my phone back into my pocket and tilted my head skyward.
   The drizzle had started for real now — thin needles of rain tapping gently against my face, as if the sky was testing its aim before the main event.
   Chiyo was right. If I stood here too long, I’d be soaked down to my soul.
   Time to head home.