Chapter 37: “A Question at the Dinner Table”

Dinner ended quietly.

The plates were cleared. The rice cooker clicked off. Yui moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, humming faintly as she rinsed dishes. Touko had already excused herself, saying she needed to finish homework. Her footsteps faded up the stairs, light and obedient.

Kei remained at the table.

He watched Yui for a long moment before speaking, fingers wrapped around a glass of water he hadn’t touched.

“Yui,” he said.

She glanced over her shoulder. “Hmm?”

“There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Something in his voice made her turn fully this time. She dried her hands slowly, then sat across from him. Her expression softened into concern, the way it always did when he sounded like this.

“What is it?” she asked.

Kei took a breath.

He told her everything.

Not all at once. Not dramatically. He spoke the way he always did when handling difficult things. Calm. Ordered. Careful with details. He explained the incident at the station again, then what happened afterward. The police. The school. The hospital room that smelled like disinfectant and loneliness.

He did not exaggerate.

He did not soften it either.

Yui listened without interrupting, her hands folded in her lap. Her brow furrowed as the story went on. When he mentioned the livestream, she flinched. When he mentioned the girl’s mother being taken away, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“And now,” Kei finished, “she has no one.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

Yui exhaled slowly. “That’s… awful,” she said. “She’s only a student, right? Touko’s age?”

“Yes,” Kei replied. “Same grade.”

Yui shook her head faintly. “No child should go through something like that.”

Kei nodded. He waited. He knew her well enough not to rush this part.

“She’s still in the hospital,” he continued. “The school counselor is involved. Social services too. But… it’s going to take time. And during that time, she’ll be alone.”

Yui looked down at the table. “Is there no family? Relatives?”

“None they can contact right now,” Kei said. “Her father isn’t in the picture. Her mother…” He paused. “Won’t be coming back anytime soon.”

Yui swallowed.

The kitchen clock ticked softly on the wall.

Kei’s fingers tightened slightly around the glass.

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about,” he said.

Yui looked up.

“I don’t want this to sound sudden,” he went on. “I’ve thought it through. I’ve spoken to the school. To the hospital staff. Legally, there are options.”

She tilted her head, cautious now. “What kind of options?”

Kei met her eyes.

“Adoption,” he said.

The word landed gently. He made sure of that. He did not frame it as a plea or a grand gesture. Just a statement. An option placed carefully on the table between them.

Yui blinked.

“Oh,” she said.

Kei continued before she could retreat into silence. “Not immediately. Not without proper steps. But temporary guardianship could become permanent. We have the space. The stability. And she already knows us. At least a little.”

Yui leaned back slightly, her hand rising to her chest.

“That’s… a big decision,” she said.

“I know,” Kei replied. “I wouldn’t bring it up if I hadn’t thought it through.”

Her gaze drifted toward the staircase. Toward Touko’s room.

“What about Touko?” she asked.

Kei hesitated for the first time.

“She’s kind,” he said. “She’s thoughtful. She understands more than we give her credit for.”

Yui nodded slowly. “She is a good girl.”

The words came easily. Comfortingly.

“She’ll understand,” Yui said after a moment. “She always does.”

Kei felt a quiet sense of relief at that. He did not notice how quickly the decision was settling. How naturally it fit into the space of their lives.

Yui rubbed her arms, as if suddenly cold.

“It won’t be easy,” she said. “Another child. Another set of needs. Another history.”

“I know,” Kei said. “But that’s exactly why we should do it.”

She studied him. The man she had married. Reliable. Gentle. Always stepping in when someone needed help.

“You feel responsible,” she said softly.

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.

Yui sighed. Then, after a long pause, she smiled faintly.

“If we don’t help her,” she said, “who will?”

Kei let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“So… you’re okay with it?” he asked.

She nodded. “I am. We’ll do it properly. Slowly. We’ll talk to Touko soon.”

“Yes,” Kei said. “Of course.”

Yui stood and reached across the table, resting her hand over his.

“She’ll understand,” she repeated. “Touko is a good girl.”

Neither of them noticed the slight shift in the air.

They did not see the shadow at the top of the stairs.

Touko stood there, her hand resting lightly on the railing. She had not meant to listen at first. She had only come down for water. But the word adoption had stopped her cold.

She did not move.

She did not breathe loudly.

She listened as if committing every word to memory.

Another child.

Same age.

A girl who had touched Papa.

A girl who would come into their home.

Touko’s face remained calm. Perfectly still. Anyone looking at her would have thought she felt nothing at all.

But something deep inside her shifted.

Not anger.

Not fear.

Something quieter.

Something deliberate.

When the conversation below ended and the chairs scraped softly against the floor, Touko stepped back into the darkness of the hallway.

She returned to her room.

She closed the door.

And she smiled.