11

It was the first day of summer break.

Breakfast had been the same as always—loud, thanks to my father. His voice always dominated the dining table like a megaphone nobody asked for, bouncing from one anecdote to another. Misaki-san was no different, with her constant teasing and playfulness a perfect alarm in the morning.

Meanwhile, Asahina-san and I were quiet as statues. We only gave them constant nods at each time questions were directed at us. It's hard to pretend that there's a rift between us, and I'm surprised that my parents haven't noticed despite the comical mismatch.

Perhaps people would say 'Who the hell can't get along with their family?' as if it was something that should be easily fixed. Well, I'd be the first to disagree with them—even though we're family now, they're technically strangers to me—especially Asahina-san. I can't adjust immediately to being around someone I don't know very well—not to mention women, of all genders.

Somehow, every thought about this subject blurs when I'm slouching in front of my computer. Apart from study, I mentioned that I am fond of fighting games, especially "Takedown", of which I am currently playing right now.

It's just your typical two player fighting game with each player battling it out to win three rounds.

It must have been a contrast to my belief that people who spend summer breaks doing nothing but entertainment are the worst kind of people. That's true—but this game isn't just entertainment. It helps me work on my reflexes and deduction as it's a requirement to work on knowing your enemy's intentions and predicting their next moves just like in chess.

And it's not exactly boring either.

"You win!"

Those two words that echoed through my headphones said all the explanation needed.

As the match finished, I stretched my arms and laid by the futon to rest for a moment.

I picked up this game randomly about six months ago. At first, it was just something to kill time after school. But after knowing that it elevates my mental ability and allows me to see things to the tiniest detail, it became my unconventional method of learning.

And this method of learning made me climb two thousand five hundred points in the first two months I touched the game. My hands already learned the rhythm, my eyes adapted to miniscule movements, and I dominated their counterstrategy with a counter of my own.

I'm two thousand nine hundred now.

I believe it's high enough to stand in the same arena as pro players—and I believe that I could climb higher.

However, a higher rank is equivalent to spotlight and attention which doesn't sit well with me. I’ve had enough of that kind of unwanted attention for a lifetime.

As another match was about to start, the door suddenly opened. I didn't pay attention at first as a millisecond gap in focus could be exploited by my opponent to turn the tide around.

The presence stepped closer and I immediately recognized the sharp and masculine perfume he always wore after Misaki-san and Asahina-san moved in.

"Knock before entering, would you?" I said without turning away from the screen.

"Do I need to?" He sounded amused, which meant that he was probably thinking that I should learn how to greet guests instead of ignoring them.

Still not looking back, I replied, "Yes. I'm already sixteen, and I'm aware of my privacy."

He chuckled softly in response and leaned over to peek over the game.

"Well, the door was half-opened when I arrived and I saw you playing Takedown. Mind if I join after this one?”

"Did you take the day off just to play video games with me?”

He shrugged.

“Not a chance. This is my first day off since golden week, right? I’m here to rest and spend time with my family. Busy people like me don’t get much of that.”

Typical. He was always pushing that ‘family time’ agenda, like it was his saving grace.

"You sure? You haven't played recently, right? I can beat you with my eyes closed."

His chuckle turned into a full laugh.

"Aha, you're resorting to cheap hubris tricks?"

"It's not hubris, it's confidence."

"And do you think that alone wins championships? Experience beats confidence with eyes closed."

As he said that, my current round ended with another narrow win.

I exhaled and handed him a spare controller. “Enough of the philosophical arguments. Let’s see how rusty you are.”

And so we began.

He immediately picked his favorite police character, Kyouya. That alone was a statement of his competitive intent but I'm not going to back down. My counterpick was a no-brainer choice, Lucien, a character that specializes long-range fencing stabs.

The mismatch was a nightmare for my father, and thus I won the first set without breaking a sweat.

As expected, he laughed it off, scratching his chin like he was studying the screen itself.

The second set was different. My old man had started to adjust and learned from my earlier aggression. While my character has the range, it lacks the speed to combat Kyouya head on. He closed up the space between us and it was practically disadvantageous at that point on. With our controllers clacking and characters exchanging blow by blow, I scored the first round, and lost the next three.

I frowned. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Tch… I shouldn’t get complacent.”

"Come on, who's rusty now?"

"You're just lucky."

After all, he wasn’t a casual player. My old man sat around 2400 rank points, a step below me. In terms of skill, the gap wasn’t as wide as the numbers made it look.

We played on, trading wins like boxers exchanging jabs. Back and forth, momentum swinging.

When I finally looked to taunt him, I noticed that something was off. He's smiling the whole time, yes—but the way he's holding the joystick lacked the usual cocky energy and enthusiasm.

He was out of control.

It made me think that maybe he was concerned about something beyond this game, which is pulling his attention away from competition.

The more I looked, the clearer my hypothesis became. He's distracting himself from something else.

I lowered my controller during a load screen.

"Dad, you okay?”

Everyone would miss the details I'm seeing because he's known to be constantly lively and cheerful.

It was a rational move since I already saw him at his worst, getting cheated on by my biological mom two years ago, and at times he puts masks in front of others.

For a moment, he didn’t answer. His eyes grew distant and unfocused, thumb frozen over the joystick. Then, quietly, almost too quietly for the man I knew, he said:

“…I’m planning to divorce Misaki-san.”

My controller fell off my fingertips. The expensive cracking sound it made resonated throughout the room.

"Divorce...?" I echoed, as if I couldn't believe it. Of course I cannot. This man right here, clearly enjoying the future he's about to build with his new partner, suddenly tells me that he decided to throw everything away? It's impossible not to feel upset.

He looked away.

When I realized I had just stared wordlessly at him without moving, I averted my eyes and picked up the controller from the floorboard.

The round timer just kept ticking down as we both sat in uncomfortable silence. I could hear my heart pounding inside my chest.

"...Why?" I finally managed to ask, barely above a whisper.

After all, he hadn't said it with bitterness or anger. He said it like he was already regretting the idea, as if something forced him on it.

"...You're actually concerned about it?" he answered, finally looking at me with a hint of surprise in his face.

"Of course I would. What kind of son do you think I am? Of course, I care since it's about our family."

He laughed bitterly at that. "Well, I guess it's because I'm a shitty dad..."

"You're not. Self-deprecation wouldn't answer that question.”

“But—”

“I'm simply asking why because you seem to be forcing yourself into such an insane decision. Even I wouldn't do something so reckless without consulting others."

My thumb still hovered over the controller, the screen flickering "You Lose" in bright red.

Inside my head, though, another match had already started.

They weren't hostile or acting like strangers as Asahina-san and I, so incompatibility is already out of the question. To be fair, Misaki-san genuinely loves his company and can't stop laughing at his stupid jokes. I can see their relationship progressing further and deeper with every passing day. If anything, Misaki-san is much more fit for him than my biological mother will ever be.

So, if their relationship was broken, I would've seen cracks and acted accordingly.

And I saw none.

“Didn’t you protest when I married again? Or at least hate the idea?"

That threw me.

Me, protesting and hating his remarriage? I searched my memories, from the time he told me everything at the garage and at the day they moved in.

All I found was the unfamiliar faces and footsteps in the house, and my way of acknowledging and adjusting to the new members of our family. Nothing that deserved the word hate.

I didn’t reply immediately. Speaking too quickly would’ve felt cheap, so I have to put reason and play my cards well.

“…No.” I forced my eyes to stay on him. “I didn’t.”

He tilted his head, studying me as though waiting for me to correct myself. When I didn’t, he sighed, like he’d miscalculated something.

"I really thought that you were unhappy with me ending up with Misaki-san. I mean, who else wouldn't? She's my senior manager, and everyone at work says that I got promoted just because I seduced her. You know how society works today, see."

Confusion gnawed at me until clarity arrived like the slow solving of a puzzle. There were no fights or distance between them. I bet the rumors alone aren't enough to break that kind of bond. So if it wasn't about incompatibility, it was about us.

Asahina-san and me.

"I can't say that I'm unhappy. That's not it. I don't hate Misaki-san as part of the family. If there was a little grudge about your remarriage, then that's because I was reminded too late. That's all."

As I spoke, the pieces kept falling into place. The question slipped, unfiltered but on point.

“…Is this about the summer plans?”

He blinked. For me, that was the same as nodding.

I let out a breath, remembering our breakfast earlier. They planned a family trip to Osaka which we politely declined.

They tried not to sound disappointed but their faces gave way. They already sorted their day-offs. It's hard to ask for mine since I used it all for reviewing in the end-of-term exams. Asahina-san meanwhile mentioned cram school and chores as if it was a significant excuse.

I pressed my palm against my forehead. “…So, what, you thought because our schedules didn’t line up, you two should just—what, give up?”

“Kaede,” he said gently, “it’s not just schedules. I don’t want to drag Misaki-san into a house that isn’t a home. And if even my own son can’t—”

“Stop.” My voice came out sharper than I intended. “I accepted your marriage the moment you announced it. I told myself that if you're truly happy, then I'm cheering you on. I don't care where you met Misaki-san, or what circumstances led you to fall for each other. For me, seeing you happy and content since mom left, who the hell am I to ruin it just because I’m slow at catching up?”

He finally fixed that hole in his heart and for heaven’s sake I wish that this situation would be permanent.

For a moment, he just stared at me.

“…Kaede…”

I looked away. If I kept meeting his eyes, I’d say more than I should.

"You might have decided on impulse, but I'm glad you consulted me first."

This time, a smile formed in his face.

"I'll make sure not to do that again.”

I nodded, feeling relieved. But that wouldn't last for long as he dropped the cold question, “What about Shiori-chan?”

“What about her?”

“Do you dislike her?” The way he said it—tentative, almost pleading—made it clear he already feared the answer.

“…No.”

“No?” He echoed it as if testing my honesty.

I tilted my head back, staring at the ceiling. Was that what he saw? A boy who couldn’t connect? That's true, save for my circumstances.

“Not hating and not liking are two different things,” I admitted. “We’re distant, but that doesn't equate to hate. I'm in the process of adjustment since it's the first time having a girl around, let alone one with the same age. I don't even know what kind of attitude I should have to fit with her. So I either say wrong and embarrassing things or nothing at all."

I paused to muster my courage.

“But…I’m happy I have a stepsister, even if it doesn’t look like it.”

I left the rest—the scandal, the resentful history between Asahina-san and I, buried in silence. That truth wasn’t his burden. Besides, the only thing that matters now is love, the future, and the family itself.

"I know I'm not perfect," he admitted. "And Misaki-san's probably not either. We may act the same, and share the same taste in food and clothes, but I know that doesn't define a happy family at all.”

I nodded.

“So, don’t expect perfection or constant happiness—that's something someone needs to earn.” I finally spoke up.

“Mhm…” he hummed in agreement. “I think I should focus on being a better father and a husband, and along the way, take care of all of you."

That sounds so simple yet complicated on equal terms. Yet I'm happy that he finally understood that he shouldn't throw people right away when they become inconvenient. If he did, what makes her different from Mom?

"...It's the first time I'm finally getting a read from you, Kaede-kun. I know you had full distrust of people from what happened before, and I understand it. You don't need to fully trust them right away. But it won't hurt if you give yourself some time to get along with them."

I had no objections to it. It's partly my fault that I didn't embrace my past and became a mess of a person myself. If having my nemesis become my stepsister is the universe's way of saying 'you need to heal', then fine. I'll do my best and try to accept her, even if she never changes and is still a problematic child herself.

"I will."

And then his arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a hug that smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and aftershave.

It startled me, how small he felt up close. The man I always thought was unshakable was trembling against my shoulder.

“…Kaede-kun. Thank you.” he spoke against my shoulder.

"Stop being cheesy, would you?"

He kept holding me even though I was keen on pushing him back. Though after a moment, he did, and forced a smile through damp eyes.

“…I’ll think again. I was too quick and underestimated your growth and maturity. Next time, I'll consult you if it involves the topic about our family.”

I just casually nodded and threw the other console to him.

"If you're talking about my growth, my game will speak for me. Let's get this stalemate over with."

We were tied at one point when he started talking about divorce. I was frustrated at his nonsense, so I would vent it on by beating the hell out of him in this game.

The game started, and as expected, there was a fire in his eyes that promised bloodshed. It was far from what he had earlier, and there's no lingering pain behind it.

By the deciding round our match had gone back and forth until we emptied whatever was inside us that needed emptying. He cursed under his breath when I broke a hold; I tutted when he punished my habit. We traded wins like the quiet men we were—no triumphal shouts, no trashtalks, and we're letting the soft clack of plastic and an occasional: “Good one,” or, “Nice read.” to echo between us.

When it was over, I’d won by a hair. He stared at the screen for a beat then looked at me, and that cheeky smile tugged at his lips again.

“Okay,” he said, voice rough but steadier than before. “Maybe you have…grown.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” I said, standing and stretching stiff shoulders.

“I won’t. But—Kaede-kun?”

“Yeah?”

“Help me."

"Hm?"

"Not just with summer plans." as he scratched his head. "Help me keep this family from falling apart while I figure things out.”

I hesitated, because promises mean things and I’ve been careful about them.

Then I nodded.

“I’ll try.”