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Mama Hyodo emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of pudding large enough to feed an entire baseball team. “Dessert’s ready, boys!”
The two boys at her kitchen table sat up straight, trying very hard to look like they weren’t bickering furiously mere moments ago. She set the pudding down heavily and watched their faces light up – Juza’s with joy, Banri’s with trepidation.
“You like pudding, Banri?” she asked, despite knowing the answer.
Banri laid his head on the table and groaned. “Please have mercy. I’m still recovering from dinner.”
“I’ve lost my appetite,” said Juza, glaring at him.
Mama Hyodo mentally rolled her eyes. Actors. They’re all such drama queens.
“We both know that’s not true, Juza,” she said. Turning to Banri, she ruffled his sandy-brown hair. “And unfortunately, young man, I’m afraid the only options are ‘too much pudding’ and ‘way too much pudding.’”
“Why does that not surprise me,” said Banri, his blue eyes darting towards Juza pointedly.
Juza made a rude gesture at Banri that he probably thought she didn’t see.
“Too much pudding it is, then.” Mama Hyodo served him a generous bowl. “What about you, honey?”
“The usual,” said Juza.
Mama Hyodo spooned a truly extraordinary amount of pudding into his bowl and slid it across the table. Banri’s gaze followed it with a mixture of disgust, apprehension, admiration, and jealousy.
“Dig in, boys,” she prompted.
“Thanks, Mama,” the two chorused, then glared daggers at one another. Mama Hyodo mentally rolled her eyes again. Actors. Never wanna share the spotlight.
As Banri politely picked at his pudding and Juza mercilessly demolished his, Mama Hyodo considered the situation. She knew if Juza devoured his pudding at the usual breakneck rate, she only had a small window in which he would be unable to argue.
It was time to put her plan into motion.
Carefully and casually, she lifted the photo album out of the box and set it on the table. Juza, mouth full and eyes wide, grunted in protest, but only succeeded in drawing Banri’s attention to the album.
“What’s that?”
Mama Hyodo brushed an invisible layer of dust off the cover. “Oh, I found this while I was cleaning out the attic earlier, and it brought back so many memories, I just had to show Juza.” She pointed to the gold-embossed title. “Look, honey! It’s the photos from the 43rd Annual Hyodo-Sakisaka Family Reunion!”
Juza tried to speak around a mouthful of pudding. “Mama-“
“That’s the big party you guys throw every year, right?” Banri interrupted.
“That’s right.” Mama Hyodo smiled from ear to ear. “We’ve had some wild little shindigs over the years. Oh, the stories I could tell you...”
Juza grumbled. “Mama. You promised you wouldn’t tell any embarrassing stories.”
Mama Hyodo pouted. “Aw, honey. The story of your super-ultra best friend isn’t embarrassing. It’s beautiful.”
Juza choked on his pudding.
Banri sat bolt upright in his chair and looked at Mama Hyodo like Christmas had come early. “His super-ultra what?”
Juza turned approximately thirteen shades of red. “NO!” he hissed. “That’s the MOST embarrassing one!”
“Hmm, maybe you’re right,” said Mama Hyodo. “It’s a pretty long story, anyway.”
Banri Settsu, bless his heart, took the bait hook, line, and sinker.
“No, no,” he said, leaning forward in his chair with a sardonic smirk. “I wanna hear allllll about this.”
Juza put his head in his hands. “Mama, please. I’m begging you. Please don’t tell him.”
“Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport, honey,” said Mama Hyodo. “Besides, don’t you wanna know your super-ultra best friend’s name?”
Juza snapped to attention like she’d just said the name of his favorite dessert. “What?”
“That’s right, hotshot. You heard me.”
“B-But-“ Juza stuttered. “You always say you didn’t know his name-“
“Well, maybe I found a little something that jogged my memory,” said Mama Hyodo coolly.
Juza stared holes into her, trying to discern whether or not she was bluffing. Most people would have flinched under a gaze that intense, but Mama Hyodo was not most people.
“Well, Hyodo?” Banri raised his eyebrows in a clear declaration of war. “You in or not?”
Juza let out a long sigh. “Fine. ONE story. But only if I get the rest of the pudding.”
Mama Hyodo chuckled. “Deal.” She pushed the pudding bowl towards him with one hand and flipped open the photo album with the other. “Scooch over here so you can see, Banri.”
Banri pushed his chair around and peered over her shoulder at the rows of photographs, carefully labelled and dated.
Mama Hyodo pointed at the first picture. “Guess who.”
Banri squinted. “Kumon?”
“Close, but no dice.”
Banri’s eyes widened. “Hyodo?”
“Ding ding ding!” She beamed with pride. “Isn’t he a cutie?”
Banri was at a loss for words for several beats. He looked at her son, then at the photo, then back at her son. “What the hell happened?” he finally said.
Juza glowered at him, Mama Hyodo cleared her throat, and Banri’s face shifted to one of instant regret.
“Uh,” he said, “I mean, um-“
“I know, I know. It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?” Mama Hyodo said. “How did this cutie patootie turn into such a stud muffin?”
Juza groaned in agony. “MAMA.”
“All right, all right.” Chuckling, Mama Hyodo took a sip of water. “Enough preamble, then. On with the story.”
Banri nodded, trying not to look too excited and failing.
“So it all started on the day of the 43rd Annual Hyodo-Sakisaka Family Reunion, when Juza was very nearly five years old...”
***
“Just one more picture, Juza honey,” his mom called from behind her camera.
Juza squirmed in place. He glanced at the baby carrier next to him, where a small boy with hair like pink cotton candy was fast asleep. This was Muku – the youngest member of the Hyodo-Sakisaka family – and even though all he did was sleep, everyone couldn’t stop talking about him and how cute and wonderful and amazing he was. This was good because it meant that most of the adults were fawning over Muku instead of talking to him. This was bad because it meant that most of the adults were fawning over Muku instead of talking to him.
And this was extra bad because it meant his mom wanted a hundred photos of him and his baby cousin together.
His mom tsked. “Juza, honey... If you don’t smile as big as you can, the camera won’t take the picture.”
Very reluctantly, Juza bared his teeth at the camera.
His mom took the picture and sighed. “Oh, all right. Good enough.” She straightened up and dusted the sand off her strawberry-patterned dress.
“Can I go play?” Juza asked. “Please,” he added, remembering his manners.
His mom nodded. “You want to go play with your cousins? Sure thing, honey.” She kissed him on the top of the head. “Don’t go too far from the party, okay?”
Juza hadn’t meant that he wanted to play with his cousins, exactly. Most of them were third graders, which was scary enough, but he’d overheard that some of them were in secondary school, and that sounded even more scary. Instead of telling his mom all of this, though, he just nodded and ran off down the beach.
He stopped when he reached the ocean’s edge. The cold water surged in and rolled over his feet, and he hopped back with a squeak of surprise. He glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, but it appeared that no one was paying any attention to him.
He stared down into the clear blue water and wished with all his heart that Kumon were here – but he was sick in bed, at home with his dad. For a second, he almost wished that they had traded places, and he was the one who was too sick to go to the family reunion.
Absorbed in this fantasy, he didn’t notice the leopard-patterned ball sailing towards him until it was almost too late.
Someone shouted, and he looked up, just in time to catch the ball a second before it slammed into his head. His heart thudding in his chest, he stared down at it, bewildered. Where did it come from? Had one of his cousins thrown it at him?
“Hey, you!”
Startled, Juza looked around wildly, trying to pinpoint the voice. He finally spotted its source – a figure emerging from the ocean. He almost dropped the ball in surprise. A mermaid?!
Then he saw that the figure had legs and was slightly disappointed – and then he saw that the figure was a boy around the same age as him, and his heart started thudding all over again.
The boy’s hair was the color of sand, and it was so long that it brushed against his shoulders. Juza had never seen a boy with such long hair before. He almost asked if he was a girl, but thought it would be impolite.
The sandy-haired boy tilted his head. “That’s my ball.”
Juza jumped – what if the boy thought he was stealing it? He thrust it towards him frantically. “I-I’m sorry-“
“You caught it!” The boy’s face twisted into a smile, and Juza saw that his front tooth was missing. “How’d you do that?”
“What happened to your tooth?” asked Juza.
“What happened to your eye?” the boy asked back, pointing.
“I asked you first,” Juza retorted.
The boy stuck his tongue through the gap. “I lost it,” he said proudly. “Yesterday the Tooth Fairy came to my house and took it.”
“Really?”
“Yep. And guess what?” He leaned closer to Juza.
“What?”
The boy whispered in his ear. “She gave me two dollars.”
“Two dollars?!” Juza cried. “Two whole dollars?”
The boy nodded, beaming. “Two whole dollars.”
Juza couldn’t believe his ears. He’d never had two dollars in his whole life. “That’s – You could – You could buy a car!”
The boy burst out laughing. “You can’t buy a CAR with two dollars, silly!”
“You can’t?”
“Of course not,” said the boy matter-of-factly. “A car costs at LEAST ten dollars.”
“Oh,” said Juza. He didn’t know that.
“What happened to your eye?” the boy asked again.
Juza touched the bruise, and it twinged, making him wince. “I got in a fight,” he mumbled.
The boy’s big blue eyes grew even wider. “You got in a fight?”
“Yeah.”
All at once, the boy’s face lit up with a smile. “That’s so COOL!”
Juza was taken aback. “W-What?”
“What happened?” the boy asked, eyes shining with curiosity. “How many guys were there? Did you win?!”
Juza didn’t really want to tell the story again, but the other boy looked so excited that he gave in.
“One of my friends at daycare... They took my truck and they wouldn’t give it back. And when I said to please give it back, they hit me.”
The boy let out a soft gasp. “And then what?”
“And then... I hit them.” Juza’s stomach churned at the memory. “And I got in big trouble.”
“What?” The boy’s mouth hung open in shock. “But... But they started it! Why did YOU get in trouble?”
“I dunno,” said Juza.
The boy balled his hands into fists. “But that’s not FAIR.”
Juza shrugged.
Still looking at him with concern, the boy scooted closer to Juza and touched the bruise on his face, very, very gently. His fingers were cold and wet from the ocean, and they felt nice on Juza’s hot skin.
“It’s all green and purple,” he said, with reverence.
“Yeah.”
The boy closed his eyes. “So cool,” he whispered.
Juza lit up with pride. “R-Really?”
“I never met anyone who was in a fight before,” the boy went on. “My dad says – my dad says that’s what REAL men do.”
“Real men...” Juza breathed.
“Real men fight for what they believe in,” the boy recited.
It was the coolest sentence Juza had ever heard. He gaped at the other boy, hardly able to comprehend how cool he was. He’d never wanted to be friends with somebody so bad.
“Um, um, what’s your name?” he stammered out.
“What’s YOUR name?”
“I asked you first.”
The other boy extended a hand. “I’m Banri,” he said, smiling his gap-toothed smile.
Juza shook it. “I’m Juza.”
“Nice to meetcha, Juchan,” Banri declared, and Juza felt a rush of happiness – nobody but Kumon had ever called him Juchan before.
“Banchan,” he said hesitantly, and Banri’s smile grew even wider in response. “Do you wanna play?”
Banri was already pulling him down the sand. “Let’s go swim, Juchan!”
***
Before meeting Banri, Juza had thought that his mom was the smartest person on planet Earth, but now he wasn’t so sure.
When they played, not only did Banri know how to play all of Juza’s favorite games, but he knew games that Juza had never heard of – games like Warriors, where you ran around on all fours and pretended to be a cat, or Wrestlemania, where you shouted things like “BRAIN BUSTER!” and then tried to hug each other. When they went to the tide pools, Banri knew the names of all the rainbow fish swimming in the sea, because his sister – a fourth grader! - had taught him. (“She wants to be a mareen by-ol-gist,” he’d said proudly, and Juza nodded like he knew exactly what that meant.) And when they threw Banri’s leopard-patterned plastic ball back and forth, no matter how high or how fast or how far Juza threw the ball, Banri would always, always catch it.
That is, until Juza threw it too close to the tide pools and, when Banri ran after it, he tripped on the slippery rocks and fell, hard. The ball bounced away, but Banri didn’t get up and go get it. He just lay there.
Juza, concerned, sprinted to his side. “Banchan? Are you okay?”
Banri was quiet, trembling – and then Juza saw a streak of red on the rocks, and his heart splashed into his stomach. Banri had scraped his elbow.
“You...” Juza stammered. “You’re bleeding...”
“Ow,” said Banri, clutching his arm as blood dripped between his fingers. “Ow!” he said again, panic creeping into his voice, and he looked at Juza with tear-filled eyes.
Juza was starting to panic himself when, out of nowhere, his mom’s voice popped into his head.
This is the first-aid kit, Juza. This is what you use when somebody’s hurt.
He relaxed. He knew what to do. Channeling his mom, he looked straight into Banri’s eyes. “Stay right here. I’ll be right back,” he commanded.
Banri’s eyes were frightened and confused, but he swallowed hard and nodded.
Juza took off down the beach as fast as his legs would carry him, straight towards the Hyodo-Sakisaka party. He could see his mom’s big purple donut-patterned umbrella from a mile away, and as he drew near, he spotted her purse, momentarily unattended.
There was no time to think, and before he could consider the consequences of touching his mom’s purse – which she always told him not to touch – he was rifling through it, looking for the white box with the red X on it.
Just when he was beginning to wonder if maybe she’d forgotten it at home, he spotted it in the bottom of the bag, and he let out a sigh of relief.
Cradling it in his arms as gently as if he was cradling his little brother, he ran back to Banri, making extra sure not to slip on the wet rocks. Banri was exactly where he had left him, holding his arm and sniffling like he had a cold.
“This is my mom’s first aid kit,” said Juza triumphantly, and he opened it with a flourish after fumbling with the clasp for several seconds. Banri, despite being in untold amounts of pain, peered into it with curiosity.
“What’s all that?” he asked.
Juza wasn’t sure what most of it was, but he recognized the bottle with the blue lid. “This is dis-in-fec-tant,” he said, pronouncing the word slowly and clearly. “It makes it so the germs don’t get in.”
“Oh,” said Banri. “I knew that.”
Juza poured what he assumed was an appropriate amount onto one of the small white cloths. “It’s gonna sting a whole lot,” he said, echoing his mom’s words, “but you have to be brave, all right?”
Banri gave a single, brave nod.
As gently as he possibly could, Juza dabbed the cloth on the cut. Banri gasped in pain and twisted away like Juza had punched him.
Guilt slamming into him like a train, Juza squeaked, “I’m sorry!”
Banri took a deep, shuddering breath. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice small.
Juza gritted his teeth and brushed all the sand and dirt away from the cut, while Banri squeezed his eyes shut and breathed heavily. A single tear rolled down his cheek, and he swiped at it angrily.
“Banchan,” said Juza reassuringly. “It’s okay to cry if you need to. My mom says that’s what real men do.”
Banri gave him a look of utter shock.
“Real men cry,” Juza repeated, his voice firm.
“But-“ Now it was Banri’s turn to stammer. “But the man on TV said that boys don’t cry.”
“My mom says you can’t believe everything you see on TV,” said Juza wisely.
Banri titled his head and stared at him, nonplussed. “Oh,” he said at length. “I knew that.”
Having finished cleaning Banri’s wound, Juza tucked the bloody cloth back underneath the clean ones and reached for the box of band-aids. “What colors do you want? There’s the green stripey ones, or the orange polka-dot ones, or the purple leopard-“
“Purple leopard-print!” Banri exclaimed, his face aglow with joy.
Somehow, Juza thought Banri might say that. He carefully chose five purple leopard-print band-aids – five seemed like the proper amount for a cut as big as that – and stuck each one over the wound as Banri wriggled in delight.
“All done,” he said. “Does it hurt?”
Banri surveyed his elbow carefully. “Nope,” he said.
“Not even a little?”
“Not even a little.”
Juza grinned. “Thank Heavens,” he said. That was another thing his mom said often.
Banri grinned too – and then he said something completely unexpected.
“Juchan, do you wanna be super-ultra best friends?”
Juza’s jaw dropped.
It was like Christmas, Halloween, and his birthday had all come at once. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think he would become someone’s best friend – let alone someone’s super-ultra best friend. He beamed. He bloomed.
“Yes!” he said, more strongly than he had ever said yes before. “Let’s be super-ultra best friends, Banchan!”
Banri laughed, his gap-toothed smile as wide as a piano, and Juza was sure he was smiling just as big. He sprang to his feet and stuck out his hand. “Let’s go!” he declared.
“Go? Go where?”
“To the party!” Juza laughed. “I wanna take you to the party!”
Banri’s face lit up. “A party?!”
In truth, Juza was fairly sure you had to be either a Hyodo or a Sakisaka to go to a Hyodo-Sakisaka party, but – but Banri was his super-ultra best friend. Surely his mom would understand.
“We’ve got lots of food and drinks and stuff,” he explained. “There’s watermelon and cake and pudding – but our pudding is the best, my mom says Aunt Yukiko’s pudding comes out of a box so it’s not REAL pudding – and iced tea and sushi-“
At the word sushi, Banri’s eyes sparkled. “Do they have Calforna rolls?!”
Juza had no idea what a Calforna roll was, but he said, “I think so.”
Banri grabbed Juza’s hand. “Let’s go, let’s go!” He jumped to his feet, all the pain in his elbow forgotten. “Come on, Juchan!”
Juza’s face was starting to tingle from smiling so much. “Follow me.”
Hand in hand, they stampeded down the beach towards the Hyodo-Sakisaka party.
***
Juza hadn’t even noticed how low the sun had gotten in the sky until, from far away, he heard someone calling Banri’s name.
He looked up from his slice of watermelon. “Who’s that, Banchan?”
Banri, wiping the juice from his chin, stood up like a shot. “It’s my dad! You gotta meet him!” Without waiting for Juza to put down his watermelon, he grabbed Juza’s arm and pulled him across the sand. Juza stared after the watermelon mournfully, but promised himself they’d come back and finish it later.
Banri waved as he approached the sandy-haired man who’d been calling him. “Dad!” he shouted. “Dad, look, look, this is Juchan, he’s my super-ultra best friend and he caught my ball and then we played Warriors and he was a tiger and I was a leopard and I fell down and bled all over the place but I didn’t cry at all and then-“
“Where the hell have you been?”
The smile vanished from Banri’s face in the blink of an eye. “I...” he said quietly. “W-Well...”
Juza had only a vague idea of what hell was or what it meant, but he knew that it was very, very bad. He stared down at the sand, petrified of looking Banri’s dad in the eyes.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Banri’s dad went on, his voice so low it was practically a growl. “Your sister and mother have already gone home. I’ve been looking for you for the past half hour.”
“D-Dad, I-“
“I don’t want to hear it, young man,” said Banri’s dad, and both Banri and Juza shivered. “You are coming with me right now, and we will discuss this in the car.”
Juza’s stomach twisted into a big, tight knot. Banri was leaving?
“But-!” Banri burst into tears. “But we’re not done playing-!”
“Please,” said Juza, as politely as he could through his tears, “please, can we play just a little longer-?”
“Just five more minutes, please, he’s my super-ultra-best friend-“
“Pretty, pretty please-?”
“That’s ENOUGH!” Banri’s dad boomed, and Juza was stunned into terrified silence. “Stop trying to cause a scene. We are leaving. Right. Now.”
He grabbed Banri’s wrist. Banri shrieked, Juza yelled, “NO!” and pulled his other arm, and just when he thought Banri might get torn in two-
“Excuse me! What exactly is going on here?”
Juza looked up to see a familiar figure in a strawberry-patterned dress standing over them.
His mom! Juza nearly collapsed from relief.
Banri’s dad let go of Banri’s wrist, and, shaking like a leaf, Banri wrapped his arms around Juza and bawled, and Juza held him tight and bawled right back.
“Who are you?” shouted Banri’s dad over the noise.
“I’m Nanako Hyodo. This boy is my son,” said Juza’s mom. “Is there a problem here?”
Banri’s dad rubbed the back of his neck. “From what I can tell, my boy’s throwing a temper tantrum because I told him it’s time to leave, and... well, I’m not sure why your boy’s so upset about it.” He sighed. “Kids, am I right?”
“Is that so,” said Juza’s mom. “May I try talking to them?”
Banri’s dad stepped back in defeat. “Be my guest, ma’am.”
Juza’s mom looked down at the two of them, and though her face was serious, there wasn’t a shred of anger on it. “Juza, honey. Who’s this?”
“H-He’s...” Juza gulped. He was crying so hard he could barely speak. “He’s B-Banchan...”
Juza’s mom turned to Banri. Her gaze lingered on the purple leopard-print bandaids covering his elbow for a moment, but she didn’t say a word about them. Instead, she said, “It’s very nice to meet you, Banchan. I’m Juza’s mommy. You’re Juza’s new friend, right?”
“NO!” Banri wailed. “W-We’re super-ultra best friends...!”
Juza’s mom raised her eyebrows. “You two are super-ultra best friends?”
Juza nodded tearfully.
“Wow,” said Juza’s mom. “That’s even better than best friends, right?”
“Yeah,” hiccupped Banri. “It’s like... b-bestest friends in the whole wide world...”
Juza’s mom crouched down so they were the same height, and she put one hand on each of their shoulders.
“Well, if you two are super-ultra best friends, then that means you’re connected by fate, right?”
“Connected... by fate?” repeated Juza. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but it sounded important.
Juza’s mom smiled. “That means even if you have to say goodbye today, someday, you’ll surely reunite.”
“R-Really?” sniffed Banri.
“Really. It might be tomorrow, or it might be a very long time in the future... but you’ll definitely see each other again.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
Juza looked at Banri, and Banri looked at him. His eyes were shining with tears, but also with resolve. He took a deep breath and wiped the tears away.
“Don’t cry, Juchan,” he said, shakily but bravely. “We’ll... We’ll deffintly see each other again.”
Juza nodded vigorously, and, following suit, wiped his face on the hem of his mom’s dress.
“Juza, honey...” His mom sighed. Then, straightening up, she clapped her hands. “Tell you what. I’ll make sure you two won’t ever forget one another.”
“How?”
With a wink, Juza’s mom pointed to her camera. “I’ll take a picture of the two of you.”
Juza gasped. That was the special Hyodo-Sakisaka family reunion camera! Was it really okay to have a picture of someone else on it?
“Are you sure?” said Banri’s dad. “You really don’t have to-“
Juza’s mom waved her hand dismissively. “It’s no trouble at all.” She turned and motioned for Banri and Juza to back up. “Go stand next to the water, boys, okay?”
Grinning, Juza took Banri’s hand and pulled him across the sand, until the waves licked at their feet. Turning, he stood up as tall as he possibly could. “Smile, Banchan!” he said. “Or else the camera won’t work.”
Banri blinked. “Huh?”
“If you don’t smile as big as you can,” Juza explained, “the camera won’t take the picture. That’s how it’s works.”
“Oh,” said Banri. “I knew that.”
“Juza, honey, look this way!” Juza’s mom called. “Okay, boys, say... smelly socks!”
“SMELLY SOCKS!” they both hollered before collapsing into a fit of giggles.
Juza’s mom gave a thumbs-up. “Perfect!”
The two of them ran back and peered into the camera’s tiny screen, trying to see the picture. But before either of them could get a good look, Banri’s dad said, “It’s time to GO, Banri.”
“Would you like me to send you the picture?” said Juza’s mom.
Banri’s dad grunted. “Sure, why not. Here’s my email.” He hunted around in his pockets for something.
Juza’s mom glanced down at him. “Say goodbye, honey.”
At the word goodbye, tears prickled in the corners of Juza’s eyes – but then he remembered his mom’s words.
You’re connected by fate.
He took Banri’s hand in both of his and squeezed it as tight as he could. “Thank you for playing with me,” he said, and his voice didn’t tremble, not even a little bit. “I hope we can play again soon.”
Banri squeezed his hand back. “Me too,” he said. “I’ll never forget you, Juchan.”
And then, Banri did something completely unexpected. He kissed Juza on the cheek.
It was the first time anyone besides his mom or Kumon had kissed him on the cheek. Juza was completely flabbergasted. In fact, his gast was so thoroughly flabbered that before he realized it, Banri had let go of his hand and was running after his dad, who was walking far away.
Juza, a rush of panic filling him, cupped his hands around his mouth. “I’ll never forget you either, Banchan!” he hollered.
Banri, holding his dad’s hand with one hand, turned around and waved at him with the other, and if Juza squinted, he could almost see his gap-toothed smile.
Juza’s mom put a hand on his shoulder. “Wave bye-bye, honey.”
Juza waved and waved and waved. “Bye-bye!” he shouted, as loud as he possibly could, and he could hear Banri shouting back at him. “Bye-bye, Banchan!”
***
“...And you kept waving until long after Banchan and his dad were out of sight.”
Mama Hyodo gazed down at the photograph fondly. The orange colors of the sunset were somewhat faded, but the tear-streaked, beaming faces of the boys were no less bright than the day it was taken.
Lost in her reverie, it took her a moment to notice the deathly silence that hung over the kitchen table.
Juza, his eyes as wide as dinner plates, was gawking at Banri like he was seeing him for the very first time. Banri, meanwhile, was gazing at the photograph and doing a remarkably accurate impression of a dying fish. Mama Hyodo surveyed their faces and tried as hard as she could not to burst out laughing.
That truly was the hardest part of parenting, she thought to herself – trying not to laugh.
“Are you all right, honey?” she said to neither boy in particular. “You look a little pale.”
Banri brushed a lock of sandy-brown hair out of his face and stared at Mama Hyodo with his big blue eyes. He tried several times to speak and failed miserably each time.
“How...” he finally gasped out. “How long did you...”
She smiled warmly at him. “Long time no see, Banchan.”
Banri made a noise like a fox getting run over by a car and turned to face her son, who looked like he was having seventeen existential crises all at the same time.
Mama Hyodo watched Banri run his fingers over the scar on his elbow as he spoke.
“Ju...” he said, his voice shaking under the weight of a decade of emotion. “Juchan?”
“H...” said Juza in a trembling voice.
“What?” said Banri.
“HOW ARE YOU SO STUPID?!” her son yelled, pushing his chair back with a screech.
“LOOK WHO’S TALKING!” Banri yelled right back, leaping to his feet.
“HOW?!” Juza howled, pointing an accusing finger at him. “HOW DID YOU NEVER – NOT EVEN ONCE - PUT TOGETHER THAT I WAS JUCHAN?!”
“HOW DID YOU NEVER PUT TOGETHER THAT I WAS BANCHAN?!”
“I ASKED YOU FIRST!”
And as the two super-ultra best friends continued to yell at each other, their faces cycling between shock, rage, confusion, and joy, Mama Hyodo sat back in her chair and chuckled until her stomach hurt.