"How did you think about it?"
Takumi stretched, brushing the tiredness from his fingers, as he handed the second draft of Kaitō Kid to Alice. It was late, and the golden light streaming in through the window enveloped the manuscripts with a delicacy that could not be replicated digitally.
Alice received him as if she were being handed something from a museum. Flipping through the first few pages was enough to ignite a radiant smile.
"It's wonderful. And I can't think of another word."
His eyes shone as if he saw a freshly polished gem.
"I can't wait to deliver it to the publisher!"
With almost ceremonial care, he put the manuscript in his rigid bag, patted it, as if sealing a promise, and nodded as if to say that something great had just happened.
"Well, then I'm leaving."
Takumi escorted her to the entrance. Alice bent down to adjust her shoes, stepped on them a few times, sat up elegantly, and took the doorknob.
Just as he was about to open the door, he turned.
"By the way... Don't lock yourself in here all day. Walk around a little, exercise when you can. I'm serious."
The recommendation was wrapped in affection, not obligation.
Takumi nodded, though he had already taken note inside: he was thinking of buying a treadmill. The payment for last month's chapter was already in his account, along with the poster bonus: an extra ¥4,000. After deducting rent, he had more than ¥100,000 left. He could afford it.
In addition, her mother could also use it.
Aiko had been looking for a job for weeks. He said that his body was rusting from staying at home so much. Although Takumi understood his motives, he preferred that he not have to go out. It wasn't laziness, it was protection.
That night she returned late, with a bag full of vegetables hanging from each hand. His face was heavy.
"I walked all day and nothing. Nobody wants to hire a woman my age."
He complained as he washed the vegetables. His voice, though calm, sounded frustrated.
"I wasted my time. Takumi, do you think I should go back to Yoshino?"
The question fell like a stone in a pond.
"What are you talking about?"
Takumi frowned. He rested his elbows on the table.
"Mom... Don't joke about it."
"But I... I'm here eating with you every day. And I don't do anything for you. I feel bad."
"Mom..." He laughed in disbelief. "Where have you heard that a mother 'eats' her child? Not that this was a horror story."
He went into the kitchen, took a cutting board, and began to help her without asking permission. It wasn't just to collaborate: I wanted to show him, quietly, that he didn't need to do anything more than be there.
Aiko didn't insist. He just put the rice to cook.
Takumi thought that, deep down, she hadn't lost her roots. It was difficult for him to be away from his homeland. Perhaps he talked to his acquaintances about Yoshino every day. He wondered if Alice felt that way, too. Although he never said it, it was easy to imagine that he called his parents at night.
Dinner was ready: steamed fish, pork with vegetables, steaming rice.
Takumi looked at his plate and sighed bitterly.
"Mom, stop buying meat every day. You're making me fat."
"It's good to have some weight. You're too skinny." She looked at him firmly, as if thinness were a national threat.
"You spend the day drawing, and you don't even eat well. If I don't take care of your body... then who will?"
He said it without drama. She said it as a mother. Like someone who had been there forever and didn't plan to leave.
Takumi knew it.
He had been working non-stop for days. He only slept four hours. I wanted to finish the two episodes of Kaitō Kid before editorial revision.
Aiko did not reproach him. Nor did he demand that he stop.
But he made sure that every meal was nutritious, every break had hot tea... and that every night, he would have a home to return to.
"Do you work so hard, boy, with a manuscript that gives you tens of thousands a month?"
Aiko said it as she picked up the bowls from the table. He had cooked rice with horse mackerel and miso soup. The kitchen still smelled of sweet onions.
"Mom spends almost nothing. I save about seven or eight thousand yen a month, more than enough to help you grow... and get married someday."
Takumi laughed and put a hand to his head. The laughter was light, but it had a shadow behind it.
"I'm barely young, why are you talking about things so far away?"
The dining room was silent. Outside, the night sky was tinged with a purplish blue. But inside Takumi, something was beginning to overflow.
Sometimes, buried thoughts come out without warning.
He didn't just want to work to make money. He didn't just want to thank his mother for raising him alone. I wanted to heal the wounds of a life that I felt I had lived before. And deep down... I was also expecting something. An answer.
"Mom... I want to ask you something."
Aiko turned, still chopsticks in hand.
"Dad was rich?"
He did not say it as an accusation. He said it like someone who opens an old box that has been at the bottom of a closet for years.
Somewhere in his memory, Takumi remembered that the man who had adopted him in another life had an inexplicable economic level. More than six figures per month. A support structure that did not coincide with any of Aiko's relatives. It had to be family, at least by blood.
"…"
Aiko fell silent.
And then, with an empty smile, he shook his head.
"I don't know."
He sat down next to him. "I only know his name. I didn't hear from him anymore."
His words were not filled with resentment. They were full of... resignation.
To her, that man had not been a love story. It had been a strange junction on the road. A happy accident that became a memory.
"What's his name?"
Takumi frowned. I wanted the name to sound familiar, I wanted it to fit with something.
"Sato Chū." The 'Chū' of 'Chū state'. He was the most handsome and perfect man I have ever met."
Aiko's eyes moistened, not with sadness, but with nostalgia.
"To be honest, I was the one who chased him."
Takumi blinked. He sat up a little more.
"Is it... did you pursue?"
The respect was immediate. Not because of the decision, but because of the courage.
"Yes. I fell in love at first sight." Aiko smiled, with an expression that was not traceable in her photos of her youth.
"At that time I believed in myself a lot. He was clearly depressed, so I tried to make him laugh. One day he asked me why, and I told him that I was fascinated by it."
His face was tinged with a blush that seemed impossible to reach in its current version.
"And then you came."
Takumi was silent. He tried... But he couldn't help but feel strangely shocked.
His mother had had strength. More than he had imagined. She had chosen to raise him alone, not giving in to the urge to start over with someone else. I had decided to stay with that story... and with him.
"Mom... the reason you didn't marry again was because of me... or for him?"
The question was not a reproach. It was a search.
Aiko looked at him tenderly.
"Both. I don't want you to leave me... but also, when a woman has seen someone like your father, it's hard to be interested in other men."
Takumi sighed. But the discomfort pushed him to be honest.
"Even if he abandoned his wife and son? Even if you didn't know anything about him?"
The rage was covered with melancholy.
"Mom... why does it sound like you're a teenager in love? Is it enough for a man to look good?"
Aiko laughed, softly.
"No. It's not enough."
He sat up, picked up the last dishes, and before going to the sink, he said:
"But sometimes... there are people who cross you only once... and change you forever."
Takumi said nothing.
And he didn't ask again. He just sat there, the dim light of the dining room falling on the table, trying to find in himself what this man had left in it.
Aiko's smile stopped.
"Takumi...
His voice trembled for just a second, and he said no more. She just looked at him with tired eyes, as if her past had suddenly returned.
"Do you want to go and get it?"
"No.
Takumi shook his head. He took the bowl in his hands, held it for a few seconds without eating, and then leaned over it again in silence.
For years, he had worked tirelessly, with the silent thought that perhaps one day his father would seek him out. Maybe if he achieved excellence, if he became capable, visible... Then that man would appear. Perhaps his absence had been a punishment for not being "good enough."
But now... something had changed.
Aiko's words had pushed him to another reflection. Why wish for the presence of someone who decided not to be there?
Abandonment did not deserve reward. And Takumi, in this life, could build complete happiness without him.
His goal was no longer to be found. It was to become unbreakable. Someone who could hold the world on his shoulders without staggering. A silent promise made to the woman who had sacrificed everything for him.
Aiko watched him from across the table. But his gaze became confused, almost unfocused.
Takumi's face—leaning over his bowl—had a different light. His eyes, once youthful, were now clear, firm. The outline of his face had changed. His eyebrows were thicker than half a year ago... Their expressions calmer. Quieter.
And for a moment... Aiko thought she saw traces of Chū Sato in him.
He shook his head. She was sure it had been just an illusion. Nostalgia, sometimes, transforms reality.
But even so... He couldn't help but think that crossed his mind.