Madam Fujishiro Could Have Been Saved, but Closed Destiny on Herself

Madam Fujishiro knew I was there. The setting sun hung across us ceremonially, and that golden warmth touched the edges of the apartment.

She came from the upper staircase, purse on, obi and designer hagoromo draped on her arms, phone tucked between her fingers. Her earrings caught the light, long enough to hurt someone with.

“So, it’s true,” she whiffed. “You’re still playing house in my kitchen. You’ve gotten better. I suppose that’s what happens when weeds are left alone.”

“‘To study by firewood is a pleasure afforded to the richest and lowliest. In other words, nothing is drearier than the marginal middle class.’ These are your words exactly. I’m here to impress with my service, purely that.” I answered.

“Oh, you couldn’t even if you tried.”

“I am preparing your meal, Fujishiro-sama. Are you comfortable? If you are hungry before the meal is ready, you may request what you need.”

“I’m here for Kotone,” she stated agitatedly. “Business for the Golden Week tour sprang up and I need her. That’s all. There’s a satisfying feeling to dragging her around, as well as a separate thrill as I discover what’s happening. Kotone is under contract. My contract. She eats what I buy and works when I say. Whatever delusion you’re cultivating, that you’re some back-alley suitor, ends now.”

Still, I cooked attentively.

“I see,” she observed. “You’ve developed a fondness. You’re a worker who’s gotten greedy. The red necklace suits you. Poor enough to be obsequious and arrogant enough to dream.”

I watched her watch me. This wasn’t about me. “Shall I continue cooking, or would you like my attention elsewhere?”

She smiled when I was subordinate.

“You know,” she turned toward the full-length glass across the kitchen, admiring her own reflection instead of mine, “I always knew my daughter would attract sympathy leeches. I have witnessed it firsthand, behind stage. It’s a curse of beautiful women with ambition. The weak get desperate to ‘help.’ They make us feel noble. You are common. You’re an obstacle. Do remember who employs you.”

I remained silent because she wanted me to fight her. She wanted to spin a firestorm and frame me as the firestarter.

I snuffed the oven heat. “I quite adore this place.”

“I can destroy you, you know. You, your shop, your little family’s chocolate. A single release from my side could make your future disappear. Regardless of NDAs, a ‘predatory culinary schoolboy,’ preying on an unstable heiress… Think about it. A scandal involving the Academy’s red-necklace, seducing a girl far above his place– Are you not afraid?” she demanded with offense.

“Please don’t mistake volume for power. It is a common error in fading circles,” I expressed. “If you would prefer to speak with dignity, I shall remain. Otherwise, I suggest we don’t waste each other’s time.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m giving her a warm meal. That’s all.”

“So, cowardice, then.”

“No. Much softer. Something I implore you to recognize.”

She jeered. “Do you think care matters? She will never defy me. Never. She’s trained for this life, for life. She’ll outgrow your little advances and suggestions.”

“She’s not yours to define.”

“Pathetic,” she stomped angrily toward the hallway. She understood that even if she laid me off, the domestic violence secrets were in the palm of my hands. She idolized my cooking anyway.

She halted. “You know, if nothing fears you, she’ll never work again.” Kotone’s mother didn’t need to lay fists; this was simply an extension of her cruelty. She could resort to alternative extreme measures that could starve dreams. “I’ll blacklist her from the industry. I’ll shut every dome she dreams of singing in, all because you couldn’t mind your station, insignificant mutt.”

I heard the front door snap shut.

I didn’t let myself breathe until the garlic hit the pan. The scent curled up and fought back, keeping her vampiric declarations away. Only then did I hear the soft footsteps.

Kotone stood in her idol-wear, hair slightly damp, one hand pressed to the banister. She had heard everything. We both knew it.

It didn’t matter if Kotone’s mother found me insignificant. Even something as insignificant as being present and reminding people to evoke ‘I can, I can, I can,’ could cause consequential outcomes. A mere reminder that they had the power to declare it. Compared to this, Kotone’s radiance shone bounds further. When it came to overcoming my emotional withdrawal, she planted in me this ever-blooming declaration of ‘I want to.’

“Dinner’s almost done,” I winked. “Almost ready, Kotone-san.”

Soon. Not tonight. I’d be here for the moment Kotone fought for herself.

Savior? Please, don’t insult me. Above all, don’t insult her. I was her witness. That time would come soon as well, “I’m safe now. The situation is over. I resolved it,” she would sing it from within.

I affirmed this to myself.

“Insignificant mutt.”

Nevermind, insult her fully. “You shouldn’t parrot words that don’t belong to you, Kotone-san. Especially when they were spoken by someone afraid of how much you’ve improved.”

“All noble and gentle and ugh, humble. You’re obsessed, I shouldn’t, but I am allowed a little indulgence, right? Like, it’s probably illegal. But also, I can, can’t I? A little taste. You know how hard it is to dance in these? Can’t even walk straight after a set.” She wiggled her hips. “But they’re sooo tight, right? Hug every inch. Like they’re jealous. Just because you smell like dinner doesn’t mean you get to look at me like that when you show up late again.”

“How are you?”

“Better. I’m physically unflinching but my heart is overwhelmed. And you?”

“Better.”

“Totally? Totally, totally? Cause I heard you wreck her whole routine. How gifted.”

“If you’re hungry before the meal is ready, ask for what you need.”

“Save the meal,” she replied with less flamboyance, like she wasn’t baiting me as certain colors of resolve flowed in her. “I’ve got work to do.”

“Curious. I was going to suggest the same.”