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Setsuko was a proud woman. She lived her life according to her principles, holding all that she treasured close to her heart. At the center of all of her affections was her son, Baji Keisuke. She knew from the moment she had walked out the door, a small bundle tied to her bosom, that she would do everything to protect him, raise him, love him. Baji didn't deserve a father like that man, nor could she bear to live under the same roof as such a husband. Setsuko was convinced that she was all that Baji would need. With each step she took leaving that dreadful place, the violent shouts impaling her from behind became quieter and quieter. She wasn't afraid of the years of hardship, because she had Keisuke. And Keisuke was her treasure.
--
Setsuko rolled her neck and massaged the small of her back. There were still so many rooms left to clean on this floor. She rolled the grey cart and passed a Do not Disturb sign until she arrived at the next room. After a few knocks to ensure the guests weren't in, she swiped open the door and got to work by stripping the bedding first. The trash cans were emptied, surfaces were dusted, and she was halfway through wiping the bathroom counter when her phone rang. Setsuko let the ringtone play out for just a moment, while she removed one of her gloves.
"Hello. This is Baji speaking."
"Hello, this is Tokyo Metropolitan Hiroo Hospital. Are you Baji Keisuke's mother?"
"Yes, I'm his mother. Is something wrong? Is my son okay?"
Setsuko gripped the cell phone tightly and swallowed. She looked at herself in the mirror while she listened to the operator on the other end. The woman in the mirror didn't look like Setsuko at all. At least, the person who stared back seemed so lifeless and broken, her expression was tight and grim. After the phone call, Setsuko walked out of the half-cleaned room and found her manager to be excused.
The early winter wind whipped onto her face, while she tapped her feet waiting for the bus. Setsuko found herself unable to think or concentrate on anything at all, solely on auto-pilot to get to the hospital destination. When she found a plastic seat in the corner of the bus and sat down, the bus lurching ahead in short bursts, she accidentally let her mind wander just momentarily. The bus passed by an elementary school, where the children in their small uniforms and tiny bags happily walked with their mothers and fathers.
Setsuko would never wish ill on another person, much less a child. But she hoped, prayed that when she got to the hospital, whoever, whatever she would be presented with, had nothing to do with her Keisuke. Perhaps he got into a fight and someone took his id. Maybe there was another Baji Keisuke in the system and the staff dialed the wrong number. There were countless scenarios that played through Setsuko's mind. There was only one, that she did not dare to think about. She would not, could not, suggest that thought.
--
"Ah, Setsuko! It's already 8 in the evening, don't you still need to get home?"
Setsuko tucked her hair under the headband and bowed frantically. "Yes! I'm sorry, my son...I'm so sorry!"
"Don't worry, just go."
She quickly stripped in the locker room, pulling on the sweater that was patched at the elbows, and ran out the backdoor, hoping to catch the bus in time.
"Please! Wait!" she called desperately, but the bus already began to pull away into the blinking traffic.
By the time Setsuko arrived at the center, she began another round of apologies. The daycare worker huffed and told Setsuko that this was her final warning; one more time and they would refuse to look after Baji.
"Mom! Let's go." Baji buried his face into his mother's skirt, pressing his face into the familiar scent. He took her hand and dragged her away from the hellish place. He hated the daycare, where the workers looked at him with disdain arguing who would stay late to wait with him. He hated this place, where the other kids made fun of him and other parents pitied him. Baji held onto his mother's warm, calloused hands. He pretended not to look when his mother shoved a few crumpled bills into the daycare worker's hands, but he couldn't tune out his mother's apologies. How dare they? What was wrong with just Mom?
While mother and son walked home, Baji held onto his mother's hands tightly. He wanted to make her proud, make her smile, and one day, he was going to make sure she didn't have to apologize to anyone.
"Keisuke? What are you thinking about?" Setsuko asked, swinging the arm holding onto her son.
She smiled when she saw his little fangs glistening under the streetlamps, his big eyes waning into crescents.
Baji's grin grew wider, childish laughter chiming. "How much I love mom!"
Setsuko laughed happily with him. "And I love Keisuke so, so much too!"
--
The air conditioner inside the hospital felt colder than the wind outside. Setsuko wove her way between patients and staff to rush towards the help desk in the emergency room. The young woman greeted her and calmly asked for some info. A quick search in the system soon had her brows furrow; she quickly pressed a quick-dial before she turned back towards Setsuko.
The sound of a stretcher rolling across the room screeched. Hurried footsteps and assertive orders sounded throughout the room as the emergency responders wheeled the patient away. A physician cleared their throat and led Setsuko away from the lobby. Setsuko followed the physician, soon joined by a nurse, down the hall opposite of the emergency room.
They led her into the small office, where the nurse invited Setsuko to sit down on one of the chairs. Once seated, the physician got straight to the point.
"I'm afraid we're here to break bad news. Baji has died."
Silence flooded the room while Setsuko blankly stared at the two medical professionals. Her thoughts were delayed and slow. It felt as though hours had passed when she finally croaked out, "Keisuke?"
"He had been badly wounded when the ambulance brought him here. By the time he arrived in the emergency room, it was too late. He was already gone."
The nurse waited for Setsuko's nod before gently continuing, "We have him..."
Words began to jumble and mix together. It was a nightmare that Setsuko couldn't wake from, even after digging her nails into her forearms with all the strength she could muster in her current state.
Afterward, Setsuko asked to see her son. The nurse helped her up to her feet and guided her down the clinical hallways. The temperature dropped exponentially while Setsuko felt her body growing heavier and heavier. But she had to see him, with her own eyes. She couldn't accept anything otherwise. Setsuko dragged her feet one in front of another until she was guided into a private room at the hospital morgue.
--
Setsuko ran out of the apartment, wandering around the dark streets in her house slippers and apron.
"Keisuke! Keisuke!" she called out, making a frantic turn around a corner and continued her search. "I'm sorry, baby, I'm so sorry. Don't scare me, please, okay? Keisuke?"
It was never her intention to lash out at the young boy. She knew that what she did was unacceptable and wrong, no matter how stressed she was. None of her burdens seemed to matter when her baby was missing; losing her job today seemed trivial, the eviction notice she received was only a piece of paper, and the debt collectors sounded harmless.
Setsuko darted past the junkyard and circled around the surrounding parks twice, desperately calling for her son. She finally found him on the base steps of a shrine, kicking a pebble between his two tiny feet. The delicate skin around his eyes was rubbed red and raw.
"Thank goodness, oh thank goodness I found you," Setsuko exclaimed, quickly running over to check Baji for injuries. She knelt down in front of her son after seeing that he was fine and finally broke down. "I'm sorry for yelling at you, Keisuke. I was wrong, Mommy shouldn't have shouted at you. You didn't do anything wrong, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
Baji felt his nose prickle and tears puddle in his eyes again. He hated to see his mother cry, couldn't bear to see her hurt. He threw his short arms around her neck and fell into her embrace. He ran his fingers through her mother's hair, which he had always thought were lovely. "Don't cry, Mom. Don't cry, Keisuke's not mad."
After mother and son dried their tears, tired smiles returning to their faces, they made a slow walk up the steps of the shrine. They tossed a coin into the well and together, they prayed.
For happiness, for safety, for each other.
--
The bodily form was covered by a sheet of white cloth. The length matched exactly. The nurse had already warned her of some of the physical injuries and lacerations that would be on his body. Setsuko prepared herself when the sheet was drawn down. She saw his long black hair spread out on the cold steel around his relaxed expression.
The room was left for Setsuko and Baji. Setsuko took in every little detail on his greying face, void of any flush of life. Cuts marked his skin, and she couldn't dare reach for his head where the doctor notified her was also struck with a blunt object at some point. So many injuries. Setsuko couldn't even begin to count them all. She clamped a hand tightly over her mouth while she murmured, "Keisuke, I'm sorry. Mommy's late again. How could you....how could you?"
Setsuko's hands trembled as they hovered over Keisuke's abdomen. Her whole body shook violently as her hands balled into a tight fist. "You. How could you even..." Stab? Knife? How could he do that to himself? "My son, my son. Did you even think of your poor mother! Ah?!"
How much resolve would it take for a person to drive a blade into their flesh with no hesitation? How much pain he must've been in. Setsuko crumbled down onto the cold tiles, shoving away the nurse who stepped into the room to help her.
"Keisuke! Keisuke!" her wails came out choked and hoarse, echoing down the hall until they were swallowed by the walls. Setsuko cried until she was dizzy and later found herself covered by a hospital blanket. Setsuko found herself alone.
--
Setsuko couldn't believe her good fortune after what she had thought was the worst-case scenario. She was nearly at her wit's end before she learned of the opening of an apartment near Shibuya. Although the neighborhood was old and run-down, it was relatively peaceful and quiet. There were schools nearby, and most of all, the rent was incredibly cheap...almost too cheap. One of the agents quietly told Setsuko, against their manager's instructions to hide the information, that the reason for this bargain was due to noise complaints about a particular neighbor and the rumors spread that it was a family of gangsters.
She visited the area one day after work, Baji in tow. She asked him to look at the surroundings carefully and to tell her if this was a place he wanted to live in. Baji just laughed and said, “Anywhere is fine because I have Mom!”
What a good son, Setsuko thought to herself, giving Baji’s hand a gentle squeeze. Even if she had nothing left to her name, she was proud to have a son like Keisuke. To both of their delight, the neighborhood felt perfect. And the neighbors that they were warned about? The Sano family couldn’t have been kinder and more welcoming. Baji was immediately drawn into the Sano family’s dojo and watched Mikey and Shinichiro practice their katas across the wooden floor. Grandpa Sano invited Setsuko and Baji for dinner, letting mother and son join his grandsons at the table, even though Setsuko told him nothing was finalized yet.
The next day, Setsuko signed the papers for the lease. A week after, Setsuko found a new job as a cleaning worker at a new hotel in Marunouchi, the financial district of Tokyo. Although far away, the pay was much more generous than other jobs Setsuko had.
--
Setsuko wondered why there was so much paperwork involved with the death. The ink on the paper blurred together and the empathetic words from the physicians, hospital staff and funeral workers were warbled, even at her best attempt to concentrate. The funeral directors discussed options with her, comparing services and costs. They were patient while Setsuko flipped through the pages with pictures of examples as though it were a catalog detailing the season’s most sought-after funeral events. The cost didn’t matter; they were just numbers printed on a page. She had the money now.
Setsuko had a special account she carefully stowed money into for Baji’s future. It was a bankbook she hid in a special drawer that she never told Baji about. She didn’t plan to until he became an adult, and she could proudly give him the funds for him to become completely independent. Regardless of how touching the whole gesture was, they were all empty dreams.
Baji’s death was complex and entangled with a bigger gang fight where police had also made a number of arrests. She was also tasked to come into the station for a full briefing of the events that had occurred. They spoke of the process that would follow afterward and presented Setsuko with another stack of papers. Setsuko flipped through the sheets before looking the officer in the eye.
“Officer, when can I go home?”
--
Setsuko sat down in the hotel staff break room. She felt tired, weak, and short-breathed. Last week, she had thought her world was going to crash down. The manager called her aside and told her that the police station was calling for her regarding Baji. She asked to be excused and quickly ran off to the station. She couldn’t understand the situation of how her son could have possibly been involved with theft and murder. Theft. Murder. And Sano Shinichiro’s no less. The crimes seemed too elaborate and heavy to be related to the young boy, with a striped shirt, who was sobbing in the plastic chair.
Parenting books taught about how best to perform infant exercises, what foods to focus on, and how to deal with picky eaters. None of them wrote about how a single mother should handle her son’s involvement with juvenile crime. She didn’t even know of the juvenile organizations or laws until last week.
Near the end of the break, a few fellow coworkers checked in on Setsuko.
“It’ll be alright, Keisuke’s mother. Let me tell you, my son was in a gang too when he was in middle school. That rascal was crazy! I had to whoop his ass almost every night, and he still dared to run off on his bike. Should’ve broken the wheels off!”
“Oh my!” another chimed in.
Setsuko wondered if she was too soft on Baji, whether she should’ve been a lot firmer in setting expectations and ground rules. Maybe she never should’ve let Baji get that bike of his. She only agreed after he begged and begged, and even dragged Shinichiro to vouch that he would learn how to operate the bike safely.
“Keisuke’s mom,” the first co-worker called out. “Setsuko?”
Setsuko returned back to reality. “Yes?”
“Don’t you even worry. He didn’t do anything super serious or anything. Boys just get into trouble at this age, it’s how they’ll become men! Look at my son, he’s doing just fine now. He’s even getting married in a few months!”
“Yea, Setsuko. Keisuke’s a good kid. He’ll be alright. You’re just too kind and worry too much.”
“I hope so…”
“And look at the time, let’s hurry back before the manager scolds us!”
While cleaning one of the master suites, Setsuko thought of Kazutora, the other boy involved with the case. She learned that even after three days of being detained at the station, his parents never showed up to pick him up. Coupled with Kazutora continuously saying that he was responsible for everything, he was soon sent to juvenile detention.
--
Setsuko remembered the night Baji was born very clearly. Her water had broken while she was cooking in the kitchen. Her then-husband couldn't be reached at all. Setsuko laid on the couch and counted the durations between each painful wave while calming her breathing down and cradling her belly.
"Keisuke, are we going to meet soon?"
She had hissed in pain through her excitement while she had picked up the hospital bag that was already packed. She checked in at the very last moment right before the excruciating pressure on her lower back was too much to bear. Labor took nearly eight hours, stretching into the next day, but fatigue completely washed away when she later heard his loud cry echo in the delivery room.
Baji's cry rang so loud and clear, lighting up Setsuko's heart in a moment. The squirming little bundle the nurse placed onto her chest felt magical. Setsuko caressed his wrinkly nose with her pinky, admiring the dark hair curled on top of his small head.
"Keisuke," she had softly called out, her voice light and airy. "Welcome to the world, Keisuke."
The funeral hall was solemn as guests dressed in black followed the organized line to pay respects to the Baji family. Setsuko lifted her head from another bow thanking the guest for coming today. She took a deep breath, smelling the faint scent from the flowers that laid around Baji's portrait and casket.
Mikey stopped in front of Baji's photo for a long time. He stood frozen in the spot, expression focused and tense. Draken followed closely with him and the two knelt down in front of Setsuko. Their foreheads touched the floor in a quiet thud.
"I'm deeply sorry," Mikey spoke quietly and waited for Setsuko's response.
Setsuko sighed and reached out to encourage the boy to sit up. "Thank you for coming today." She paused for a moment before mentioning, "Keisuke...always spoke highly of you two. Thank you for being there for him..." When I couldn't. Mikey and Draken bowed again once more before they took their leave and Setsuko turned her attention to the next guest. She felt her knees void of feeling by the end. Her lower back fiercely ached. That night she kept vigil with her son, passing through the night until it was the third of November.
--
Baji stuffed his hands in his pocket and walked half a step ahead of his mom. He didn't want her to see his bruises or the band-aid patched on his forehead from where someone threw a stone at him. His uniform was torn too, the second one that would be out of commission this month.
When they arrived home, it was already very late in the evening. Baji made a beeline to the bathroom to wash up while Setsuko went to fix a quick dinner in the kitchen. The fridge was nearly empty and Setsuko was too exhausted, mentally and physically, to whip up anything from scratch. She filled the kettle and flipped the switch before collapsing into one of the dining chairs to wait for the water to boil.
Baji stepped foot into the kitchen, stomach growling after he smelled the savory scent of instant yakisoba. He watched his mother finish mixing the sauce and put the styrofoam tray down in front of him, before sitting down in front of him with a tray of her own. The silence felt so uncomfortable.
“You,” he began, unsure of how to continue. He thought back to the strange, livid woman at the principal’s office today. “Mom, you scared me.”
“Did I?” She paused for a brief moment. “I don’t like violence. I don’t like my son fighting others, breaking their noses, or threatening to ‘bash their heads in'. I didn’t allow you to learn karate at the Sano dojo to be violent, but…”
Setsuko reached out over the table to hold her son’s scraped hand. “But I’m also proud of you too. Thank you for defending me today, Keisuke.”
“I wasn’t about to let those assholes say that sort of shit about you,” Baji huffed, returning to his usual demeanor.
Setsuko didn’t bother chiding him about his vocabulary this time. She knew that Baji only took down those four upperclassmen who had been bothering him about his situation growing up in a single-parent household. It wasn’t new to Setsuko or Baji anymore. Teachers had side-eyed and called her in before because Baji’s lunchboxes were what they had deemed “inappropriate” and “inadequate”. She already did her best and she knew Baji didn’t have it easy either. But she was the mother and he was the child. It was her responsibility to stand up for her son in front of the school and all who tried to demean him.
--
The screech of the cremation gates closing was jarring. A funeral worker helped Setsuko to a seat outside while the flames inside the box transformed her son. Setsuko wondered if the flames were painful if the space was cramped. She couldn't move past any thought other than, my child, my child, my child.
Ten whole months of pregnancy, nearly fifteen years of life. What was the magnitude of a mother's devotion or the weight of a boy's life? Setsuko carefully picked the pieces of Baji's bones from the ashes. Each piece was treated with all the care she could muster, each time she placed them into the urn, she felt a part of herself breaking away along with it. It had been many, many years since she could carry her son in her arms.
Even as a young boy, Baji never pestered his mother for piggyback rides or asked to be carried. He seemed to already know the amount of weight on Setsuko's shoulders. But the box that carried her son was so light. Setsuko couldn't believe that was all that remained of her son, right between her palms.
What went on in the mind of a mother who had to bury her son? Setsuko felt her balance nearly topple over until a hand steadied her. She saw from her peripheral that it was Mikey. He didn't let go and supported Setsuko standing while they watched the urn lower into the ground. Once the gravesite was cleaned, Setsuko wondered who she was now. After all, a wife whose husband passed away was a widow. Society called the children who lost their parents orphans. The characters Baji Family Grave stared back at Setsuko, as if demanding an answer to the question, what about a mother whose child had crossed over the Sanzu River?
--
“Mom! Please!” Baji yelled, sliding himself between his mother and her broom, and his beloved bike. The rearview mirror was already shattered on the ground.
“Step aside!” Setsuko roared. “I’m done with this behavior now! I can’t believe you. Flunked the grade?! What have you even been doing!”
It was all because of the bike, Setsuko concluded, and Baji’s “friends”. After all of the hours, she put into work, late nights slaving away scrubbing the grout between tiles that cost more than her income, the meals she skipped to save more money...everything she did and sacrificed to support this fragile household?
“Baji! Keisuke!”
“Mom!” Baji remained in the same spot. “If you’re angry, just hit me. This bike...this bike is really precious to me! Shinichiro worked on it together with me!”
Setsuko gritted her teeth. Fury washed her vision with rage. Just hit, hit him, hit the ungrateful son. She gripped the broom in her hand tightly until her knuckles turned white. But she felt her resolve slip at the sight of her son’s pained expression.
“I’m disappointed in you Keisuke…” she weakly let out before throwing the broom off to the side and heading back into the apartment.
Baji was prepared for physical pain. He was used to scuffles, kicks, and punches. He was ready for whatever his mother was going to beat him with. But instead, it was her soft, defeated voice, her quiet departure, that felt the most torturous.
After he cleaned up the broken glass, Baji also went back in. He was on his way to his room when he heard a sniffle. Baji stood outside his mother’s room, head hanging low, and listened to her mumble to herself about everything she thought she did wrong. How she felt guilty for putting so much pressure on him, how she berated herself for being unable to help him with his studies. Baji bit his lip and went to his room. He hopped under the blankets and felt his own guilt eat away at himself.
A few hours later, Setsuko wiped her eyes and quietly slid open Baji’s door. She saw the huddled form on the bed with covers thrown to a corner and carefully pulled the blankets until they covered Baji’s shoulders. Crouching down next to him, she cleared the hair over his face and whispered a faint sorry. Setsuko sighed and got up. After picking up a few dirty clothes that were on the floor, she exited the room.
When he heard the door close, Baji opened his eyes and tossed the blanket aside again. It was really too hot to be using that thing. But he wanted to cry, he wanted to do so much for his mother. Baji felt around for a random pencil and scribbled on the underside of the shelves that was the roof of his bed nook. I will never flunk a grade ever again. I will study hard and make my mom proud. -Baji Keisuke.
--
The day of the trial was very stormy. The buses ran on a slight delay as roads were wet and slick. Setsuko smoothed out her suit attire and listened to an accompanying officer give their final remarks about how the proceedings would occur. She followed their lead up the courthouse stairs, avoiding any microphones or calls for attention shoved by journalists.
"Baji, please, a word?"
"Is it true that Baji was an important leader in a gang?"
"Were you aware that your son was a gangster?"
"Can you comment on how your failed marriage resulted in Baji deviating from the moral path?"
"Statistics show that 40% of youth delinquents come from single-mother households, can you comment?"
"A word please?"
"Can you comment?"
Anger boiled in her veins as she suddenly turned around to face the journalist crowd. They knew nothing. Short, hurried breaths seethed out between her lips. Flashes compounded and notepads were flipped open, eager to capture the story of a dead, criminal youth's mother. The officer stepped in-between and waved their hands to shoo the crowd. "We're not providing any commentary."
The hall was mostly empty, save for a few familiar faces sitting in the corners. She spotted a few of the Toman boys dispersed around the seats, dressed in the same modest clothing as when they had attended the funeral. Setsuko took a seat near the front, where she wanted to see, up close, what would be the fate of that boy who killed her son.
Then the doors opened. Setsuko saw Kazutora, eyes blank, his hands confined together with metal cuffs. The boy seemed so weightless, easily tugged and pulled by the officers who had their grip on his elbows. The family court decided that he would be tried as an adult, and so they have all gathered today for the trial. All eyes in the room followed Kazutora until he was seated.
Setsuko was quiet throughout the entirety, except for the moments where she had to speak. She limited her words because she had nothing to offer. The efficiency of the law was to make society whole again after the damage had been done. But Setsuko thought that none of it mattered because ultimately, the damage was irreparable. Still, she wanted justice for what happened to her son. She wanted retribution, she wanted them all to suffer the way her son did and feel the same pain that she'd be burdened with every day henceforth.
Kazutora was sentenced to ten years in prison.
--
Baji waited for the bus to arrive at the station. The first few passengers exited the door and went left or right. When Setsuko stepped onto the pavement, she felt a hand lift her bag from her shoulders.
"Thank you, Keisuke."
Baji slung the bag over his shoulder easily and walked next to his mom, turning into the street that would lead to their neighborhood. The streetlamps flickered along the quiet road; most people were already home at this hour.
"Mom?"
"Hm?"
"How do you...endure it all? Put up with all the shit you had to go through?"
Setsuko smiled, thinking back through the time when she flinched under her boss's harsh words or cried while sitting in the empty toilet stall she was supposed to clean, but also remembering seeing Baji's chubby cheeks while he slept soundly next to her, the cold yakisoba left for her on the kitchen counter. She looked at Baji next to her; his baby fat still padded his cheeks but it was slowly beginning to fade away and he was just as tall, maybe even a smidge taller than her now.
"My Keisuke is growing up," she remarked. "Well, we gotta survive somehow right? And I can take it all because of what's most important to me. My treasure." She reached out to tousle his growing hair, letting his growing locks fall through her fingers. "Becoming so handsome now."
"Stop! Ah, you're fucking it up!" Baji scowled and trudged ahead in wide steps.
"Language!" Setsuko called out after him, laughing internally as Baji's quick steps soon slowed down to let her catch up.
"What's for dinner?"
"Just say you want yakisoba again."
"Okay." Baji grinned, fangs peaking out in the corner. He knew it was an expression that his mother couldn't deny. "Mom, I want yakisoba again."
Setsuko snorted and shook her head. "Fine, fine. Yakisoba it is."
"With a fried egg on top."
"Okay, fried egg on top, and extra bonito flakes."
"You're the best."
"Mhm. I know."
--
The door to Baji's room slid open as Setsuko slowly paced in. The room was in the same state as Baji had left it months ago. Setsuko looked around the room, organizers carefully Tetris-ed to maximize the space. There was the half-empty bag of cat food on the desk and the food tray he had bought with his own allowance money.
Meow.
Setsuko heard a quiet scratch at the window and peered over. Two large eyes look at her, tiny teeth flashing in the night. She carefully slid the window open and filled a tray with some food, offering it to the stray cat.
Baji loved cats. He adored animals. Always did. He was a rough boy, but he was loving and gentle. He defended those in need. He put himself at risk for others.
“Do you come here often?” she asked the cat who was nibbling at the food expertly.
The cat paused and looked at her.
“Keisuke’s gone now. I’m his mother...my son’s gone now.”
Meow. The cat licked its nose and stretched before looking around the room. As if it really couldn’t find the boy who would welcome it every night, the cat meowed again and soon left. Setsuko sighed and closed the window.
She took a seat on the nook that was Baji’s bed. She had wanted to redo the room for him, get him a bigger bed to accommodate his growing height. Baji often complained about banging his head when he got up in the mornings and muttered that it was exactly why he "didn't have brain cells".
Setsuko laid down and traced a few pencil doodles marked on the underside of the upper shelves. I will never flunk a grade ever again. I will study hard and make my mom proud. -Baji Keisuke.
Setsuko closed her eyes and tried to sleep, completely exhausted and broken. But the darkness she saw when her eyelids closed would bring the sound of the judge's gavel and the passionate arguments of the lawyers back into her ears. She thought about her feelings when she heard Kazutora’s sentence. There wasn’t any sort of satisfaction at all.
Kazutora was about the same age as her son. He had already suffered an inadequate family life and spent his childhood years in juvenile detention. Baji had told her before too, “Kazutora...he’s in a lot of pain. I know he just needs some help.”
Setsuko blamed herself for not acting sooner. Why she was too sidetracked with work, focused solely on money, money, money under the excuse that everything was for Baji, and did not pay attention to her son’s friendships. Why she, an adult, turned a blind eye to a vulnerable child not once, but twice.
“Keisuke, I’m sorry,” Setsuko sobbed, covering her face with her hands.
She didn’t know how long she cried for or when she fell asleep. But by the time she woke up, the sun was already filtering through Baji’s bedroom.
--
Setsuko worked increasingly long hours at the hotel, often picking up night shifts as well. She reasoned that Baji was more than old enough to take care of himself now and that it would be best if she worked harder now while her health and stamina were still strong. For the past years, the rent at their place had been increasing, along with the general cost of living. Setsuko was determined to keep up with the pace and pull ahead as much as possible.
The wage wouldn’t just pay for rent and necessities; she could afford multiple school uniforms for Baji, and if she were really careful, even save up for his university tuition. Deep down, she knew that Baji wasn’t really cut out for school. She would have to thank the temples for blessing him with a high school diploma. But a mother could hope, and all she could do was try to amass the funds.
Setsuko didn’t worry about Baji getting bullied anymore. Even though she was adamant that he didn’t go around fighting random people, she was a little reassured that his black belt in karate from the Sano dojo would shape him into a fine person. Mental discipline, physical fortitude were all important characteristics.
But Setsuko worried nonetheless. She wondered if Baji had good friends, close friends. The time she spent away from home so often also resulted in a rift between mother and son. He stopped telling her a lot of what was going on in his life, frequently shutting the door or coming home late at night unexplained. Setsuko didn’t want the already rare mother-son times to end in shouting matches. She never liked to raise her voice either. So, she simply worried.
Ring.
“Keisuke? Yes?” Setsuko said into the microphone after checking the caller id. She heard some cats in the background. “Are you at home?”
“Yea, Chifuyu’s over.”
Ah, Setsuko knew Chifuyu, a very polite boy. He hung out with Baji quite often.
“Ma, we’re out of Peyang again. Can you buy some more later?”
A coworker interrupted in the background. “Oi, Setsuko! We need to clean conference room 3.”
Setsuko covered the microphone and called back, “Yes! I’ll be right there!” Then she pressed the cell phone against her ear and quickly told Baji, “Okay, okay, I’ll bring some back. Don’t eat too much of that stuff too okay. I have to go now.”
“Cool.” Then Baji ended the call before Setsuko could say anything more.
She sighed and returned to pushing the cleaning cart down the winding hallway. The tall, full-length glass windows gave her a full view of the most contemporary district in Tokyo. Everything was changing so quickly, technology transformed so much. It was a good idea to purchase that mobile phone for Baji. Even though phone calls were short and expensive, hearing his voice for just a while here and there reassured her.
--
Setsuko walked down the rows of the cemetery. It’s been many months since Baji’s death and Kazutora’s trial. She saw a figure crouched over Baji’s grave. Chifuyu swallowed the last bite of noodles and placed the styrofoam tray on the stone altar.
"This half...Baji, is for you," he whispered. Chifuyu noticed the presence next to him and turned around, shoulders tensing after seeing who it was. He scrambled up to greet Setsuko. "I'm sorry, I'll get going-"
"No worries, sit with me for a bit. Keisuke would hate me if you had to leave so soon."
Chifuyu nodded and sat down after Setsuko set down a bouquet of flowers and took a seat herself. Setsuko looked at the tray of noodles and let the corners of her dried lips tilt upwards. "Eat slowly, Keisuke. Don't choke."
Chifuyu observed Setsuko’s empty-looking frame. Her clothes seemed to weigh her down. He wondered if she had been sleeping at all, the dark shadows under her eyes, and the worried frown she wore was ingrained on her forehead and brow
“I must look dreadful,” Setsuko commented.
“No!” Chifuyu blurted out, a little embarrassed for being caught staring. “You...seem tired.” What would Baji think, if his mother looked as though she was waiting for her lifespan to burn?
“I’m trying to forgive him...Kazutora. Forgive everyone and my unfilial son who left his mother behind.” She picked up the tray with the cold noodles and took a bite of Baji’s half. “I’ll pick up the pieces he left behind...the bitterness, the regrets...I swallowed them all.”
Chifuyu sat in silence next to Setsuko, offering his presence to the grieving woman. After Baji’s death, he sat in his room and thought about the why and how. Mikey had also come up to him and they just talked about Baji, about Kazutora, the childhood that seemed so far away, and the future that felt bleak.
“Thank you Chifuyu.”
Chifuyu turned his head aside. Please don’t thank me, he wanted to say. Not in the same way Baji did. “I owe him so much.
"Chifuyu...could you tell me? Did he say anything else?"
"Baji...he was smiling." Chifuyu fondly remembered. "He said..."
Toman. They are my treasures.
"Treasures,” Setsuko repeated slowly, absorbing every syllable. “Treasures…”
--
Setsuko tore off the October 30th page of the wall calendar before she slipped on her shoes at the front door.
“Mom, you’re leaving?” Baji asked, coming down the hall. “I thought you finally got your schedule adjusted.”
“If I go early, I can come home early, right? Besides—”
Baji wrapped his arms around his mother, resting the weight of his head on her shoulders.
“Keisuke?” she asked, patting his back gently. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing...just wanna hug you. Didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Ah, take a nap later then.” Setsuko brushed her fingers through his hair, easily detangling the morning bed hair. “I have to get going, Keisuke, or I’ll miss the bus.”
Baji didn’t let go. “Mom?”
“Yea?”
“Thanks for everything...I know you endured a lot for me.”A lot of memories flashed in Baji’s mind, all the times he wanted to punch himself after because he knew he messed up. “I get into a lot of trouble, fight in the streets, get called into the principal’s office all the time...I’m not really good with books and—”
Setsuko squeezed her son tightly. “Keisuke, is there something you’re not telling me? You know, you can tell me anything right?”
Baji gently broke the hug. “Nah, I just saw you in the doorway and thought, ‘Wow, that’s my mom. Most beautiful woman ever and I’m blessed with her looks.’”
Setsuko snorted and shook her head, running a hand through her long dark locks where a few silver strands were beginning to appear. “Okay, okay. Enough with the flattery. I’ll be going now, okay?” She pushed open the front door.
“Mom?”
“What now?”
Setsuko turned around and saw Baji smiling widely, showing off the little fangs that she found adorable. “I want fresh homemade yakisoba.”
Setsuko took half a step out of the apartment. “Fried egg on top?”
“Fried egg on top.”
“With extra bonito flakes,” she finished with a matching smile. “Got it, got it. Instant, street stall, homemade... You never get sick of yakisoba, do you? Call if you need anything okay?”
“ Mhm , bye Mom. Love you.”
Setsuko gave Baji a little wave. “Love you too Keisuke. I’ll be off now.”
--
"There's someone waiting for you in the front."
Kazutora nodded thanks and slung the knapsack over his shoulder. He gave the gates one final glance before following the warden out. Stepping into society again felt intimidating and new. The air seemed different, the sounds were busier. Ten years changed him, but also all of Tokyo — no, the world.
Kazutora wondered who could be waiting for him at the front. Was it Mikey? Draken? Perhaps Chifuyu? Kazutora couldn't have ever imagined that the person welcoming him into freedom would be her, Setsuko, Baji Keisuke's mother. She looked much older than he had remembered, deep sets of wrinkles embedded in her face. The folds of her eyelids began to sink lower and her hair was peppered white.
Setsuko's first look at Kazutora was one of surprise. The boy, the man, was very different from when she had last seen him. He wore a gentle expression on his face, and his eyes held the warmest light. Setsuko immediately noticed Kazutora's hair, long locks that swept past his shoulder, in very much the same way Keisuke's did. She smiled, nervousness washing away as she took a few steps towards him.
Setsuko and Kazutora chatted quietly, exchanging simple pleasantries. She asked him if he had anything he wanted to eat in particular, but instead, Kazutora asked to visit Baji. He quickly apologized, suggesting if that were something that would make her uncomfortable, he would respect her wishes and stay away. Guilt burdened Kazutora's shoulder for ten years as the vestiges of the dead and the past haunted him. Even after working through the knots, sessions after sessions, Kazutora felt vulnerable.
Rather than turning him down as Kazutora had expected, Setsuko nodded. "Keisuke would love that very much. Let's go together."
Visiting Baji’s grave together was peaceful. For Setsuko, almost cathartic. Ten years of a journey wandering and feeling lost seemed to have finally arrived at an ending point with Kazutora’s release.
"Thank you."
Setsuko turned towards Kazutora and quietly asked, "What for? I didn't speak up then, nor was I able to lessen your sentence. These years you had to endure alone...it mustn't have been easy."
"I deserved those years. Besides," Kazutora smiled, "I don't think it was all bad. I received a lot of care and help, finally confronted my past and my feelings to make sense of what happened. And the package during the holiday...they must be from you, right?"
Setsuko surveyed his expression before acknowledging a small nod. "Forgive me, I couldn't bring myself to meet you in person. I didn't know what you liked or disliked..."
Kazutora shook his head. “No, I loved it very much. It felt...nice to receive something like that from someone.”
“I’m glad.” Setsuko stood up and began to say her farewell to the stone tablet. “Keisuke, I’ll visit you soon, okay?”
Kazutora also stood up, brushing off some of the dust on his pants. He decided he had to seize this moment, or else there would be no next chance. “Um..excuse me…”
“Yes?”
Kazutora’s gaze met with Setsuko. "If you'll allow me, may I come visit you often? Baji loved and looked up to you so much. I...I want to help him take care of his mother. In his stead."
He couldn’t make out the meaning behind Setsuko’s surprised expression. Her eyes looked over towards Baji’s tomb and flitted back to him. Then she smiled and held her arms slightly open. "May I?"
Kazutora nodded and soon felt himself pulled into a tight embrace that felt safe and maternal. He hugged back.
"Thank you. Thank you for thinking about Keisuke and thinking about me, "Setsuko whispered. She patted his upper back gently. "But you don't have to live in his stead. Kazutora, you're free now to find your own path. I'll happily be there for you in any way I can. As a mother figure or just a friend. I ask that you'll find peace and happiness." This was what Keisuke would have wanted for everyone. This was also her dream for Keisuke’s friends. With Kazutora’s blessings, Setsuko felt her own burdens finally lifted off of her heart and shoulders.
In the years after Baji's passing, she constantly remained in a tense and difficult state, but now, the cathartic feeling of freedom also washed over her. She was Setsuko, always Setsuko. And she was Keisuke’s mother, always would be his mother. That was never going to change. Until the day when mother and son would reunite, Setsuko would continue to proudly live her life.
Kazutora and Setsuko took their time to walk out of the cemetery, quietly strolling in the garden continuing their conversations. The clouds in the sky cleared, making way for the sun's rays to shine through. A warm glow cast itself over the rows upon rows of tablets, lighting up Baji's tombstone, the polished stone glinting.