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Yuka twists in her seat, steadying herself with a hand on Ken’s shoulder. She’s rewarded with the sight of her shining daughter fast asleep alongside her friends, her star clips reflecting the night sky outside the car window. The outer Tokyo highway races past at a spectacular few kilometers per hour; the Friday night traffic is unbearable, but taking the van over the train was necessary to haul the four teenagers, their coach, and their number one fan to the event venue along with everything they needed to perform—not to mention the other three’s luggage for staying over at their house tonight.
“Wow… they really did pass out in 20 minutes…” she murmurs.
“What’d I tell ya?” Ken replies, sparing a glance in the mirror to check on them. “Wait until Akito starts sleep-singing.”
“Oh~ They’re just too cute.” Yuka fishes her phone from her purse and takes a quick picture of An with her head nearly falling out of her hand resting on the door.
“C’mon, leave ‘em be. They worked hard today.”
Yuka sits forward in her seat again. The taillights of the car in front of them are much more boring to look at, so she looks to her right. Ken sits slightly leaning back into his seat, both hands gripped on the wheel a bit too tight, and sunken eyes blink and squint against red, gold, and white lights that are seemingly never-ending. This new sight matched with his occasional yawns hidden behind a lazy hand brings a thin smile to her face.
“There’s a rest stop coming up,” she says.
“Why? You need something?”
“I’ll drive the rest of the way home. You’re just as tired as they are.”
Ken brushes it off, and shakes his head, “You should get some rest, you were up for work at five this morning. I can make it back just fine.”
Yuka drops a loving hand on her husband's knee and burns a knowing stare into a stubbled side profile. “As if I don’t know you didn’t get a wink of sleep last night.” Ken opens his mouth to defend himself but she doesn’t give him the opportunity. She retorts, hushed to not wake the kids, “You were turning all night. You were sooo nervous for this event.”
“I don’t get nervous.”
“Yeah, okay.” Yuka pats his leg. “Whatever you say, hun.”
“I don’t!”
Yuka shushes him.
He repeats, under his breath. “I don’t.” He grabs her hand and keeps it between his fingers like that would get her to back off. He knows better than that.
“Well,” Yuka sighs, “I’ve still got some excitement left in me from their win. And my kids went easy on me today, so don’t worry about me. You deserve to rest too, coach.”
After minutes of sitting in the sleepy quiet, radio music barely loud enough for the front-riders to hear, the rest stop’s exit sign comes into view.
Yuka nods at it. “Pull over.”
“Yuka, I—”
“Ken.”
He doesn’t say anything more. It’s a losing battle against her stare that he is physically incapable of saying ‘no’ to.
He flicks on his turn signal, and Yuka squeezes his hand.
“That’s what I thought.”