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She wakes on the floor, a blanket around her shoulders and Hayato asleep on her lap. It's touching, for a moment, but something feels off.
Something is off. The house is too still. She glances up at the table, to the three meals that remain untouched. She gulps, hoping her husband had just been so tired that he didn't want to eat.
Hayato stirs slightly, rolling a little in his sleep. Shinobu runs a hand gently across his head — when was the last time they'd had a sweet moment like this? — and sighs. Things have been so strange lately, with Kousaku suddenly friendly and Hayato seemingly drifting further away. She'd begun to think they'd fought with each other, which is strange, because Kousaku is not a man of confrontation and she's sure she's raised her son better than to piss off his own father.
It's not like she can ask, either. Despite her newfound love for her husband, she still didn't feel close to him. There was this strange distance, like he was hiding something from her. And that leads her to her thoughts now…
She gets up slowly, careful to not wake Hayato. She folds a corner of the blanket and props his head on it, a makeshift pillow. He makes a quiet noise, and goes still again.
Shinobu turns to the table. It's a shame they didn't eat anything, it was good food. She isn't totally sure what to do with it; she doesn't want to throw it away, but can it really be used as leftovers? She'd figure it out later.
She creeps into the entrance hall, examines the room before her. There's Hayato's things (she might let him miss school today), her own slippers and shoes, and three pairs of Kousaku's, none of which he'd worn yesterday.
That meant two things: He was either still out there somewhere, or he'd come home and left his shoes outside, maybe. His jacket wasn't there, either, but Shinobu assured herself there are plenty of reasons why it wouldn't be there.
She moves to the living room, untouched as well. She begins to believe her first theory — Kousaku really was so tired he'd gone straight up to bed. But wouldn't he be up now?
(And why, if this was true, did he come home so late? The first thought that jumps to her mind is affair , and frankly, she'd rather that be the reason than something much much worse. As long as he was safe and sound…)
Each step she takes up the stairs is deafening in the silent, still home. Shinobu isn't sure why she's afraid to reach the top, or dreading to open the door to their bedroom.
At the landing, she pauses, straining to hear even the slightest hint of life. There's nothing, of course. No pattering of feet, no running water, no rustling of fabric, no flushing of the toilet, no snoring (not that he snored), no breathing or talking. No hints that her husband is there.
Her hands are stupidly shaky as she places them on the doorknob to the bedroom. This is normal, right? Kousaku is an adult, just like her. If he wanted to leave, he could. (She'd appreciate it if he'd tell her before, though, so she wouldn't have to be a worried wife.) If he ran away with a mistress, perhaps another man would be looking for his wife, too.
The room is empty and the bed is made, and Shinobu's stomach drops. "He never came home," she mutters, muffling her voice with her hand as she approaches the mattress. She smoothes out the non-existent wrinkles of the blankets with her free hand, watching as she begins to shake. She's hungry and sore and tired and so, so worried. If her husband isn't here, then where did he go?
"Kousaku?" she calls out lamely, like it would do anything. Silence answers her. She sits down on the bed and hides her face in her hands.
Too much has happened in such a little amount of time. Had this been happening a month or two before, she might not care as much as she did. No, she knows she'd be happy . Sure, she doesn't want to raise Hayato on her own, but she could manage.
...could she? Her mind starts to run. She has no job. Kousaku pays the bills, and doesn't do it well. They can't afford the rent. They'll lose the home without Kousaku, without a job. They'll go hungry.
She can't manage without him.
Shinobu starts to sob, her shoulders shaking and breaths coming out choked. She tries to stifle the noise with her hands, biting onto her fingers as a mock-gag, but it only hurts and makes her cry more. She squeezes her eyes shut and hangs her head.
Small, warm arms wrap around her.
"Mom," Hayato murmurs. His voice is still hoarse — she probably woke him up — but he doesn't sound confused.
Shinobu says nothing, cries out louder, and hugs her son back. He's shaking, too, much less violently than his mom, but enough for her to notice. He's crying.
"I'm sorry," he says. Shinobu strokes his head, holds him closer. Hayato starts to say something else, but it comes out as a cry and Shinobu tries to shush him gently.
"Nothing's wrong," she reassures him, her composure slightly regained after a minute of sobs. It's a pitiful, obvious lie, but she can't think of anything better to say. Hayato shakes his head, breaking from the embrace to look up at her.
He has baby eyes, Shinobu thinks. The same fragile, terrified, wide eyes he'd had when they brought him home. She wipes away his tears as she says, "Dad will be home soon."
"No," he whimpers.
It's the truth, whether Shinobu knows it or not. Never, in the years that they'd been married, that he'd been working, had he been gone for the night.
"He's so nice now," Shinobu whispers, as Hayato winces. "Why would he leave us?"
Hayato's face goes dark and he whimpers again. He hugs his mom again, burying his face into her shirt and bawls. Shinobu's heart shatters and she begins to weep.
I shouldn't ask you, she thinks. Hayato wouldn't know. He never talks to Kousaku.
Common sense would be to call his work. But that will wait for later, once her mind clears.
For now, she cherishes Hayato's presence. There's something in her gut telling her that she could have lost him, too.