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The sun that falls on Kanade's face, that sliver through the blackout curtains, is gentle snow - for a moment, the Shibuya sky looks like that of an empty and grey world. It's welcoming, the barest touch of a hand over closed eyes.
She stirs, bleary, and looks outside. The desktop clock reads 4:11, a late-afternoon metronome counted out by its blinking and the quiet hum of a vacuum cleaner. Ah, that's right. Kanade had woken up an hour ago, let her housekeeper into the apartment, and then gone back to her room and collapsed onto her bed. Somewhat embarrassing that she'd slept right through the afternoon, and that she hadn't stayed up to greet her.
Though the computer screen calls to her, begs her to place notes in order and keep composing, just a little further, just a little more, it would be rude to keep her waiting, no? When there's a lull in the vacuuming, Kanade brushes a hand against the doorknob and takes quiet steps down the hall.
Those steps become considerably faster after the crash from the kitchen.
Out of the pantry cupboard spills every type of shelf-stable food that Kanade can think of, and then some. It's a small miracle that none of it seems to have broken, though some containers seem worse for wear. Some of this stuff hasn't seen the light of day in years - Kanade spots a few packages of powdered soup base, the tonkotsu bone stuff that her father likes.
Maybe she should bring that along to her next hospital visit? (Maybe that can stitch together the gash that's just torn into her heart, aching and guilty.)
Mochizuki's hair is pulled back under a bandana today: lightish yellow, printed with chibi Phennys. Perhaps one of her bandmates bought it for her? She stands up quickly when Kanade enters the room, hands full of pickled vegetables and a quick bow in her direction.
"Yoisaki-san! Good afternoon, I'm sorry to have woken you up." She places the jars on a countertop and presses her fingertips together, eyes wide. "Please, don't feel like you have to stay..."
"It's alright, it was about time that I woke up. Thank you for coming over as always." Kanade crouches down next to her, an extra pair of hands for the mess. "Are you alright?"
Through Mochizuki's protests, after confirming that she wasn't hit when the pantry's contents fell, Kanade continues to pick up items to set aside. Once upon a time, this was food that could supplement fresh groceries for a family of three, but now it's far too much for a high school girl living by herself. First the countertops, then the table, fill with goods, and soon Mochizuki directs her to place items on the floor.
"Last time I was here, I noticed that most of your pantry goods were expired for some time now, so I thought it'd be a good idea to clean it," she explains, sweeping her hair back. "You can usually use expired food for a few months or even years after, but..." With the tip of her tongue to her teeth, she pauses, checking the label on a package of dried shiitake mushrooms.
"Right." Boxes of curry mix, cans of vegetables, a bag of rice flour that hasn't been used since before junior high. Kanade places the last one in the pile to discard. "Aside from yourself, no one's really used the kitchen, so I appreciate your kindness in doing this. Besides, if that all had fallen on me, I'd probably have to call emergency services," she adds, a wan smile touching her lips. "Really, I can't thank you enough..."
"Of course! It's what I'm paid to do, after all." Even though she's not looking in Kanade's direction, a brighter smile works its way into Mochizuki's voice. Ah, that could be a good direction for a song. "Oh, but have you eaten at all today? I brought some emergency meals with me, I thought they'd be a good change of pace from eating instant noodles all the time. I haven't started cooking yet, but..."
In truth, that's sounding very tempting, as the last thing she ate was a nutritional bar about seven hours ago. Thankfully, her stomach doesn't growl to betray this. Without too much resistance, they negotiate that Kanade can help until the items are sorted into "things that will be good for the next year or more", "things that will expire soon or have expired at most six months ago", and "things that are most likely no longer safe to eat". Only when Mochizuki starts to rearrange the items on the shelves will Kanade eat her first meal of the day.
As the pantry grows emptier, the last pile swells. Some cabinets haven't been touched in years, judging by the thick layer of dust resting on top of them, and Kanade sneezes as Mochizuki opens them. She pauses to rearrange the goods on the table, re-stacking the goods to avoid another collapse, and is just admiring her handiwork before returning to the new influx of goods. Fortunately, the broth packets can stay.
She blinks. Resting on top of the throw-away pile is a rusty metal tin patterned with wrought leaves and golden swirls.
Her brow furrows. "Wait. This doesn't belong here."
"What shouldn't?" Mochizuki turns to find Kanade with the tin in her hands. After Kanade gives her a nod, she takes it to read over, and frowns. "This says it went bad around eight years ago."
"Oh." Well. It's a good thing that this isn't the tea that she gave Mafuyu when she was sick.
When Kanade doesn't continue, Mochizuki places the container on the counter instead, carefully enough that it doesn't clatter. "Er, I might have read that wrong, though. The language is... Chinese, isn't it?"
"Yes, in traditional characters. My parents bought it during their honeymoon, and it's been in the house as long as I can remember." Long days, cold nights, an earthy scent curled through the kitchen. Though her mother's face is blurry, that's...
She opens the container and breathes in. Despite the rust - yes, there's her father's quiet chuckle, her mother kissing her on the head, gentle humming over curry on the stovetop, bags of tea left by hospital bedsides. Dongfang meiren, her mother said, voice flowing through tones like a song in four syllables. Don-fan-mei-ren, her father echoed with much worse tonal awareness, and her mother smiled with equal parts exasperation and fondness. Dear, aren't you supposed to be the musician in our family?
Dongfang meiren!, Kanade chirped, in perfect tune, and her father ruffled her hair. No, that would be our Kanade, wouldn't it?
When she raises her gaze, Mochizuki is watching her, eyes soft. "Then this must mean a lot to you, right?"
"... Mm. Once my mother passed, my father stopped drinking it, and I forgot that it existed." Kanade laughs to herself, placing it back on the counter. "Whenever you come over, you always bring your own tea, after all. Is it alright if I keep this...?"
"Oh- of course!" Mochizuki stands up too fast and almost hits her head on the cabinet. "Ah- It's your house, I wouldn't want to ask you to get rid of something that means so much to you. But, er..."
"I know. I won't drink any more of it. How long is tea typically good for, anyway?"
With a light frown, her housekeeper places a hand on her cheek. "I know my parents throw out green teas by this point, but... What kind of tea is this?"
"Oolong," Kanade supplies. "I think it was a special blend. They were traveling in Taiwan to meet my mother's family."
Mochizuki squints at the tin, head tilted. "Then it should be alright to drink. Oolong teas are more fermented than green teas, so it shouldn't lose too much of its flavor."
In its way, that's permission to drink, but... How many satchets were in this container to begin with? It couldn't have been more than 40. Now, only three remain, and they rattle when Kanade shakes them.
Her comment hangs unanswered, but in the lull, Mochizuki pulls the last can from the shelf. Satisfied, she nods to herself, then gestures to the piles of food around the kitchen. "I'll put these back after dinner. Would nikujaga be alright today?"
"Yes." Good, she'd forgotten about Kanade's promise of eating. "I'll bag these for pickup-"
Mochizuki's gaze sharpens. "Yoisaki-san. Here's a bag of vegetable chips."
Ah, foiled.
After dispatching the chips in record time, as Mochizuki works first on preparing the meal and then carefully restocking the pantry, Kanade bags the truly expired food to take the garbage pickup. Surprisingly, it's not as physically daunting a task as she expected, although perhaps that's because those intermittent workouts really are paying off. Mochizuki, too, looks impressed when she's able to handle them all without issue.
Still, when she returns, her gaze keeps wandering back to the tea. Even as the stew finishes and is set befor her, the way she keeps picking the tin up and setting it back on the table must be concerning for the other girl, who is at least polite enough not to comment.
The weak sun fades from the sky. there's school tomorrow. Her housekeeper puts away the pantry goods and says goodbye. Kanade does the dishes, then writes a demo full of rushing water and cutlery clinking and a music box melody woven throughout. She ends up nestling the tea on her shelf next to the music box, and occasionally opens the container to take in the scent again.
It's 25:00. She logs in, she says hello, she keeps working. Today, tomorrow, the day after, it's the same: as it has been since her father collapsed, as it will be until he returns home.
... So she'd like to believe. Now, she composes music with other people, and she meets up with them when their songs are complete. She still goes to the hospital and the cemetery, but sometimes she leaves the house to go to other places, and usually even enjoys it. Her house is cleaner. She talks to people. She smiles more. The same as always, but different, and still...
It's not bad. The warmth in her chest and the people dear to her are proof of that. And still, as the night turns to day again, Kanade finds the rusted box in her hands.
(Eyes lit up, a soft voice describing lovely people she's never met in a lovely place she's never been to. All these promises of a beautiful life they'll experience together, with family who loves her at every step, and all she could think about in this warm kitchen was that she already had all of that.)
(The fact that she grew into this life, this house, these friends, doesn't put footsteps into the doorway, doesn't bring laughter to shake these walls again. Different no matter how similar it sounds. Without thinking about it, she places her forehead to the tin and closes her eyes.)
"Mom," Kanade whispers, "I wish you were here."