Chapter 59: “Mother Knows”

Yui chose the afternoon.

Not late enough to feel confrontational. Not early enough to feel planned. The house was quiet in the way it got when everyone pretended they were fine.

Touko was at the dining table, doing homework. She always did homework there. Visibility mattered.

Yui set down two cups of tea and sat across from her.

“Chamomile,” Yui said. “It helps with focus.”

Touko nodded. “Thank you.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds. The kind that tested patience. Touko passed easily.

Yui stirred her tea. Once. Twice. Then she spoke, like she was continuing a conversation that had started days ago.

“You know,” she said, “when I was your age, I used to think bad things announced themselves.”

Touko looked up. Interested. “Announced?”

“Yes. Loud. Obvious. Easy to point at.” Yui smiled faintly. “Turns out they’re very polite. They wait their turn.”

Touko returned to her work. “Most things do.”

Yui watched her write. Clean handwriting. No pressure marks. No hesitation.

“Rurika seems calmer,” Yui said.

“She needed rest,” Touko replied. “Structure.”

“Of course.” Yui took a sip. “You’re good at that. Structure.”

Touko did not respond. She did not need to.

Yui leaned back slightly. “I was wondering something.”

Touko waited.

“How did you know which messages to erase?”

Touko’s pen stopped.

The silence shifted. Not sharp. Just honest.

Yui held her gaze easily. No accusation. No tension. Just curiosity.

Touko set the pen down carefully. “They were redundant.”

Yui nodded. “I thought so.”

Another pause.

“And the complaint,” Yui continued. “The wording was very specific. HR phrasing, but softened. Someone who knew how adults liked to hear things.”

Touko folded her hands. “Adults dislike conflict. They prefer concern.”

Yui smiled. Wider this time.

“You didn’t deny anything,” she said.

Touko met her eyes. “You didn’t ask if I did it.”

Yui laughed quietly. “No. I asked how.”

They drank their tea.

“You remind me of my mother,” Yui said suddenly.

Touko tilted her head. “In what way?”

“She always knew when people were about to break,” Yui said. “She never touched them. Just… arranged the room.”

Touko considered this. “Did it bother you?”

Yui shrugged. “It taught me a lot.”

Footsteps upstairs. Rurika moving. Kei still at work.

Yui leaned forward, lowering her voice. “You were careful with Rurika.”

Touko’s expression did not change. “She’s fragile.”

“She’s useful,” Yui corrected gently.

Touko did not argue.

Yui reached across the table and adjusted Touko’s collar, like a mother fixing something small.

“You inherited more than you think,” Yui said. “From both sides.”

Touko’s lips curved slightly. “So did you.”

Yui’s smile held. Recognition passed between them, clean and mutual.

“I won’t interfere,” Yui said. “As long as the house stays standing.”

“It will,” Touko replied. “I make sure of that.”

Yui stood, gathering the cups. “Good. Kei needs stability. And Rurika needs guidance.”

“And you?” Touko asked.

Yui paused at the doorway. “I need honesty. I prefer it unspoken.”

Their eyes met one last time.

Yui smiled. Not kindly. Not cruelly.

Knowingly.

“Carry on,” she said, and left the room.

Touko picked up her pen again.

The house remained quiet.

Nothing had changed.

Everything had been confirmed.