The next morning, Hikari woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside her paper screen window. It was sunny, but quiet—quieter than usual. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and looked across the room at her bookshelf filled with picture books and an old stuffed bear her mother gave her.
There was no sound of chatter. No footsteps in the hallway. No smell of Grandpa's pipe smoke.
Just miso soup… and Sayoko's humming from the kitchen.
She slipped on her slippers and tiptoed toward the dining room. There were only two bowls on the table again. Hers and Sayoko's.
"Good morning, Hikari-chan," Sayoko said with a cheerful tone. She was already dressed in her neat gray uniform, her apron spotless as always. Her hair was tied back in the same perfect bun.
Hikari sat down.
"Sayoko-san… when will Mama come back?"
Sayoko paused for just a second. Her hand stilled over the pot. Then she turned around with that same gentle smile. "Your mother is working very hard. It might take her a while. But don't worry, she'll be so proud of how well you're doing."
Hikari nodded, though something didn't feel right. "Can I call her?"
"I'm sorry," Sayoko said quickly, placing a bowl of rice before her. "Her phone doesn't work where she is. It's far. But I'll let her know you miss her."
That was the same answer as yesterday. And the day before.
And the day before that.
After breakfast, Hikari played alone in the tatami room. She lined up her dolls in a circle, like she used to do with her cousin. She poured invisible tea into small plastic cups and whispered to her toys.
"You have to stay quiet," she told them. "Because the grown-ups are busy working far away."
Her bear, Kuma-chan, stared back blankly.
She turned to one of the sliding doors that led to the now-empty guest room. It was locked.
"Sayoko-san?" she called out.
"Yes, sweetie?"
"Why are all the rooms locked now?"
Sayoko stepped into the hallway, her face calm. "Because no one's using them anymore. I have to keep the house clean and safe. Wouldn't want you to trip on something, right?"
Hikari nodded again. That made sense.
Sayoko always made sense.
But when she pressed her ear against the guest room door later, she thought she heard something. A creak. Maybe something fell. Or maybe—
thump.
She jumped.
But when she opened her mouth to call for Sayoko, the sound was already gone. Silence returned.
That evening, Sayoko made sukiyaki.
The beef was marbled. The sauce sweet and savory. She even added extra tofu, just the way Hikari liked it. They ate together in the warm yellow glow of the kitchen light.
"Do you like it?" Sayoko asked.
Hikari nodded. "It's really good. It tastes like…"
She stopped.
Sayoko looked up. "Like what?"
Hikari's brows furrowed. "Like the one Papa used to make."
Sayoko's hand froze for a second.
Then she smiled again. "Your Papa must've been a very good cook."
Hikari smiled too.
But she didn't remember her Papa ever cooking.
That night, as she lay in bed, Hikari stared at the ceiling.
The house creaked.
Somewhere, a door clicked shut.
She pulled her blanket up to her chin, whispering to Kuma-chan:
"I think they're not really coming back…"