Chapter Text
It had started out as a joke, mostly, at first.
Or, more like a lie. The type you’d associate with a poorly hidden dead body.
They were walking, all three of them, on one of the very few shopping streets that their small neighborhood had - thusly, it was packed to the brim with locals and strangers, floundering about.
Usually, such a crowd would get both papas to be antsy to hell, but when Miri had come up to them in the diner from the curling staircase, her voice raspy and light (like she had just finished a bout of crying) to request for a day out, they drop everything for her beck and call.
Right, today marked the day of… Ah, hell.
Even when Kazuki-Papa had tearfully turned the diner sign to ‘CLOSED’ and mumbled about profit-margin-losses, or when Rei-Papa grumbled something about wanting to try and beat his old high-scores now that his arm was getting into somewhat of a decent shape, they dropped everything for her. They always had.
Really, the bitching at least made her feel normal, about all this. And it was for that act of normalcy, where they could peer a single glance into her and know her entire feelings like her heart was tattooed plainly on her sleeve, that made frustration bubble up underneath her.
She shook the thought away, making it dissipate up into smoke. None of that now.
Her mood had lightened, just a bit, as they made pointless shopping trips; it took everything in Kazuki-Papa to haul Rei-Papa away from some electronics store. His arm hooked around his neck as he groaned about the latest Last Imagination 7 Remake that caused Miri to giggle. Or Miri herself having to flick Kazuki-Papa’s forehead at the mere mention of the fish market, on account of their fridge not having the space for any new produce (and also, not wanting to dirty up her shoes.)
Suddenly, though, her legs had shuffled her to the window front of a small music store. Her eyes glazed over the numerous instruments, before landing on a lone single microphone. The flash of a pale woman in a glittery scarlet dress, illuminated by low, purple florescent lights, long auburn locks flowing freely. Mm-mmm, Mmm-ahh, and oh, she’s forgotten the lyrics already. Or, had she not known them at all, really?
“Miri?” Kazuki-Papa’s gentle, high-pitch voice snaps her out of her daze. “What’s up? You see somethin’ you like?”
They crowd around her again, having previously trailed off without her - or that she had trailed to a stop without them, rather. Hah, her - Miri Unasaka, without her papas. A funny thought.
“Oh, this place.” Rei-Papa’s low timber washed over her, by her side. “’S got lots of nice records. Instruments, too.”
“That what caught your eye?” Kazuki-Papa gives one of his warm smiles, like pancake batter sizzling on their stove.
It was Miri’s turn to be chastised, and she harks a nervous chuckle. The reprimanding never came, however, as the two just looked at her. She cleared her throat, looking away. “N-no, I just thought the interior… looked nice.”
Great, she was a lousy liar like her Kazuki-Papa, too.
“Well, why don’t we take a look inside?” Kazuki-Papa is already grinning as he reaches for her arm, and by habit, Rei-Papa had looped his good arm around hers too, allowing himself to be dragged along.
“Oh, hey- wait, Papas-!”
Well, this wasn’t her plan.
She stares as Kazuki-Papa finishes hauling the guitar case into her room, with Rei-Papa holding a plastic bag of guitar picks, strings, and capo tucked away.
“Hmm…and… Yeah, here.” Kazuki-Papa smiles proudly at himself as he aligns her guitar stand neatly next to her guitar case, next to her wardrobe and between her mirror and- god, she had a guitar?!
…why?!
“Figured it out yet?” Rei-Papa asks gently, the smallest of smiles making its place on his usual stoic jaw.
“Huh? Oh, no, still - um, figuring it out.”
“Well, you’ve got the day!” Kazuki-Papa winks at her, before swiveling away in a dramatic fashion and shielding his eyes, the downpour already starting. “Oh, my dear Miri… Soon you’ll run away to start your own rag-tag band…!”
“Idiot,” Rei-Papa snorts at him, “Where was this energy when we bought the damned thing?”
“Oh, you know that I can’t ever say no to our darling Miri!” He’s sniffling now, and Miri is so very confused. “I mean, look at that face!”
She has her shoulders hunched up and her eyes wide, like a deer in the headlights. Again, Rei-Papa snorts. “Er, yeah.”
Just as her other papa was about to dive into theatrics, Miri starts to speak up, “Papas, I love my Christmas present.” It’s lacking the usual shine of her optimism, but it still gets them to smile. “I’ll get to practicing, now.”
“Alright!” His moods changed again and Miri can’t help but to laugh at it softly, “We’ll be downstairs!”
“Can’t wait to hear you play, Miri.” Rei-Papa throws a comforting thumbs up as he’s dragged away by the collar of his shirt, “I’m sure it’ll sound great.”
A sound from a decade ago rings.
“Miri, you really are such a wonderful singer.” Rei-Papa says it with all the fondness of his heart, and Miri hums in delight as she smiles at him.
She tugs on the front of Kazuki-Papa’s Santa suit, “You think my mama heard me? I tried to sing as loouuud as I could!”
Kazuki-Papa gazes at her softly, “Definitely.”
She turns to the photograph adorned on her desk. She likes to think of it as a shrine, less of a grave. Miri realises, now, her Mama’s voice had always been so far away, huh?
Like she sat on top of Mars, humming a peculiar tune. Oooh, ooo-ahhh, ooh.
“Watch me. Okay, Mama?”
With a bated breath, she adjusts her hold on the guitar, and strums.
The entire night is filled with an out-of-tune pitch, tremors of cheap guitar strings echoing throughout the diner.
Rei shivers as he curls up, smiling with a twitchy face.
“So, this is what it’s like, to bleed again…”
Likewise in another room, Kazuki holds the pillow tight over his ears.
The smell of fried batter and fatty lard wafted in the corners of the tiny diner, sticking to the wooden support beams. Miri joyfully makes her way down the steps, a spring in her heel. “Morning, Papas!” Is her morning bellow, as she punctuates her greeting by jumping off two-steps short.
Kazuki-Papa is too sleep deprived to choke on his coffee about it, so he just hums a ‘good morning’ muffled by his mug as she takes a seat next to Rei-Papa.
Likewise, Rei-Papa lets out a gravelly ‘morning’ as he nurses a headache on his temples, his fork pushing around the scrambled eggs on his plate mindlessly.
Miri is in too much of a good mood to notice. “So! Guess what?” She’s shovelling down eggs and tomatoes down her gullet like she’s breathing the stuff in - Kazuki-Papa’s food was pretty good this morning, too. “I was practicing last night!”
“We know.”
It’s said so quietly that Miri barely misses his exasperated tone, eliciting an inquisitive hum from her. Papa-Kazuki catches it, however, and he promptly slaps the morning paper on top his head - too light that it doesn’t really impart a reaction from Rei-Papa.
“So we’ve heard!” Kazuki-Papa smiles though, his reaction a lot nicer than Rei’s. “How’d it go?”
“Mmm.” Miri chews on a piece of bacon as she contemplates her progress. She rolls big bites of pork between her teeth in rhythm with the morning birds that sat on top of the branch nearby, their tiny nest tittering with squeaks from the December cold. She tastes maple - Rei-Papa’s recipe, then. She swallows, “Still needs work!”
“No kidding.”
Kazuki-Papa shuts him up with another smack to head, this time a clean spatula his weapon of choice.
“Well, practice makes perfect Miri. I mean, just look at your Rei-Papa,” Kazuki-Papa proudly waves his hands in a jazz-like fashion. Maybe it was one of his comedic setups back in the day, but it’s got no one laughing now — besides the amused sneer Rei-Papa has on his face. “He was absolutely clueless in the kitchen before! Oh, how far he’s come…”
“Don’t get your tears on the cutleries, customers hate it when you do that.”
Before they could bicker further, Miri spoke up, “Do you think I’ll… really get the hang of it?”
“’Course, Miri.” Kazuki-Papa is sincere then, wiping away plates and settling his mug into the sink, “What-ever you put your mind to it, you’ll go far.”
“Big time.” Rei-Papa tacks on, but its enough.
“As good as Mama was a singer?” She times it with a bite of Rei-Papa’s signature french toast, like she wishes she could have swallowed the question before it tumbled out of her lips.
Kazuki-Papa eyes soften, “Definitely.” Is his answer.
So, really, it was because of Miri’s Papas that she had came home with a flyer on a Monday evening, announcing the school’s talent-show performance. No other reason at all.
It was because they had dragged her into that store that day, walking out with a guitar and picks and a thing called a capo, and it was their encouragement over breakfast that pushed her this far.
No other reason.
(She's laughing nervously as Kazuki starts tearfully sobbing about Miri’s future band exploits, and leave it up to Rei to be the responsible one, asking what time they should be closing the diner to catch her show on time.)
She hopes her Mama will watch her, too. Like Miri herself had done, long ago.