Work Text:
Vacuuming is my form of meditation. The pleasant hum of the machine as a slides it across the carpet in neat lines. Watching pieces of dust and debris be swallowed up into the void is extremely satisfying. When I open the supply closet and pull out my trusty companion, I feel at peace with my place in life. My coworkers find it surprising that I do the majority of chores in the household. Homemaking is considered to by the duty of a devoted, submissive wife. Since Ryoba makes it abundantly clear who wears the pants in this relationship (and who carries the knives), it falls to me to cook, clean, and prepare my precious daughter to be a productive member of society.
It's not all bad.
Ryoba can't drug me if I prepare and purchase all the food.
Having to wash the blood stains out of her work uniform is a great reminder that there is no man alive who could escape her. Over the years Ryoba's gotten a lot more empathetic. She feels guilty making me wash my own blood out of the bed sheets on the nights I don't feel like cooperating. Ryoba got it into her that head that we need to have more children as a testament of our enduring love. Gotta keep that birth rate from declining after all. With the assistance of my father-in-law, I was able to go behind her back and get a pipe cut. I'd love to have a few more brats like Ayano running around but I can't be responsible for releasing more Aishi women on the public.
Sundays are reserved for grocery shopping. Aya-chan's appetite has been improving over the past few weeks. It helps that she's friends with that bottomless pit of the Gurins. Considering that they own the best grocer in the neighborhood it wasn't surprising that our daughters became fast friends. The moment we step into the store, Midori pops out of thin air and drags Ayano to play in the storeroom. Aya-chan is responsible enough not to break anything back there so I usually give her a firm reminder to be respectful to employees. As the daughter of the owners, Midori has no problems ordering a cashier to give her several boxes of strawberry Pocky for her “absolute best friend Yan-chan.” Someone really needs to teach that child manner. Kuchiro's always relieved for someone keeping his daughter from under foot during the busiest day of the week so Midori's lack of tact typically translates into a few free pounds of rice.
Ryoba clings to my arm as I push the shopping cart down the long aisles. Balancing my wife's weight while keeping a firm grip on the cart is the best metaphor for our marriage. Her aggressive nature is good for getting a discount on the pricier items. I pity the cashiers who try to charge her full price for manju. Sweets are her one weakness so our first stop is always the bakery. Higashi, daifuku, mochi. If it's cute and stuffed with sugar she wants it. I should probably start monitoring my wife's blood sugar. Ayano's too. Childhood diabetes is on the rise in many countries.
The next stop is ingredients for bento. It's shameful how many parents buy their children that prepackaged crap. Why don't you just give them a bowl of uncooked rice and a raw egg while you're at it. For the past few weeks, Aya-chan has insisted on making her own bento. Some days she even makes one for Midori and Kuu. Only a second year in middle school and my angel is becoming so independent!
Ryoba enjoys making me “love bento” with all the fixings. Ryoba makes wonderful onigiri and the way she rolls her omelets almost makes up for...nothing really but damn that woman can cook when she puts her mind to. Fruit cut into little hearts, love notes written in ketchup on my rice, and on special occasions she even arranges it to look like Doraemon! At lunch my male coworkers often watch jealously as my wife glides a pair of lacquered chopsticks into my mouth. We've had more than a few discussions about her simulating oral sex when I do the same to her.
An hour or two later and Ayano meets us at the checkout line. Midori trots along behind her babbling about the latest episode of some anime. Ayano nods at all the right moments and maintains eye contact with her classmate. It's...better. Better than before when she never spoke to anyone. Kuchiro makes it a point to thank us for our patronage when we're halfway out the door. He drops a few nonsubtle hints that how great it would be if our daughters had a play date soon. Your kid follows mind home everyday after school, Gurin. I'm gonna start charging you by the hour for all this babysitting.
A quick glare from Ryoba has him clamming up. We exchange bows and finally get to leave.
Why do I go there every week? I really need to make better life decisions. Considering I'm married to a serial killer and father to an adorable yet empty shell, I should be grateful for whatever scraps of normalcy come my way. Death til us part and all that.
I love my family.
I just have to keep telling myself that.
I should probably vacuum the living room one more time just in case.