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Ryoko’s comfortably sitting on her new couch, cup of tea in hand, watching a documentary about humpback whales, when the doorbell rings. It’s too late to be the postman, and she’s not expecting anyone. Still, she turns off the TV, and sets her cup to the side.
When she opens the door, a young man’s standing there. It takes her a moment too long to realise that he’s Kazutora.
He’s a fully grown man now, with his natural hair short, and black. He’s wearing a pair of ripped jeans, and a lose shirt, and for a split second Ryoko knows that Keisuke’d call him cool. But she’s all alone in her flat, and Kazutora’s gaze doesn’t quite meet hers, and in the bit of shimmer in his eyes he doesn’t look a day over twelve.
,,I’m sorry’’, he says, breaking their silence.
,,I’m sorry’’, he croaks. His voice is weak, unsteady. But it’s the most genuine she’s ever heard anyone talk.
,,I’m sorry, Ms. Baji, I don’t know—’’
,,Shush’’, she hisses, a lot harsher than she intends.
Kazutora looks at her like a cornered piece of prey. Like he’s only ever done wrong in his life. Like he’s waiting for her to scream at him, to say no, to cry. Like he’s deserving of all the shit that’s happened to him, and of all the shit still coming his way.
Ryoko stops thinking, instead letting herself feel. And then she pulls Kazutora into a hug.
At first, he flinches back, but then he grows rigid in her hold. Awkwardly, he wraps his arms around her. Still way too stiff. So Ryoko tightens her hug, rests her chin on his shoulder, and Kazutora finally relaxes at her touch.
For what feels like an eternity, all they do is stand in the doorway. Arms wrapped around each other, gently swaying from side to side. Kazutora ends up holding her close almost desperately, and she begins to draw circles on his back, the way she’d always done when Keisuke’d cried.
When they finally pull away again, there are unshed tears in the corners of Kazutora’s eyes, but there’s a shy smile on his lips.
,,Come in’’, she says.
She doesn’t wait for an answer. She turns around and walks into the kitchen, expecting Kazutora to close the door, and follow her on his own.
He does. Soon enough, they’re both standing in the kitchen.
,,Would you like something to eat?’’
,,Oh, you don’t have to—’’
,,But I want to’’, Ryoko interrupts him. ,,I want to, Kazutora.’’
You deserve this, she doesn’t say, even you do.
It’s the first time Kazutora properly looks at her. Shyly. Only for the blink of an eye. God, it’s been a long twelve years.
,,I’ve still got some leftover rice from yesterday. Let’s fry it?’’, Ryoko offers, like in old times.
Kazutora’s always loved her egg fried rice, whichever ingredients she’s made it with. They’ve made it with. She’d always tried to get Keisuke to cook with her, and Kazutora had often managed to convince him to agree.
She opens the fridge, fishing for three eggs, a spring onion, and the bowl of leftovers from yesterday.
The onion lands in Kazutora’s hands. Only when he looks at her in question, she remembers that he’s never been to this place before, and he doesn’t know where her cutting boards, or knives are stored.
,,Right’’, she whispers, ,,Sorry.’’
She points to two drawers before opening a third one to get some sesame oil, which she pours into a pan. As Kazutora gets to work, she begins heating up the oil.
,,How did you get my address?’’, she asks.
,,Chifuyu’d picked me up after jail. He offered me to stay at his, and I agreed because I don’t have anywhere else. He told me when I’d asked’’, he explains.
And then he quietly adds, ,,We still have the best bathroom wall paintings in the world.’’
,,I’m glad’’, Ryoko says. That you’ve got a friend. That you like your new home. That the two of you can remember Keisuke without always being sad, but that she doesn’t speak that outloud.
Kazutora throws the green onion into the pan. As Ryoko starts stirring it, Kazutora finds two glasses, and pours water into them, one for either of them.
Soon enough, the rice, and the eggs join the pan, and Kazutora watches her toss the food with the corners of his mouth turned upwards. It doesn’t take long for her to finish up with a splash of soy sauce, and she fills up two bowls for either of them while Kazutora brings their glasses to the table.
When they’re both sitting opposite of each other, before they start, Kazutora mutters, ,,Thank you.’’
,,You’re welcome’’, Ryoko whispers back.
She wants to say, It’s no hassle. You’re no burden. For you, I like to, even after everything. But she isn’t bold enough to.
They start eating their food. It’s peaceful. Until Kazutora speaks up again.
,,Aren’t you angry with me?’’, he asks, voice broken. He stares holes into her cedar table.
Ryoko finishes chewing the food in her mouth, then swallows it down. She tries to look at Kazutora, sincerely, but he doesn’t look back at her.
,,I’ve always hated Toman’’, she begins, drawing out every word, ,,Because I’ve always been afraid of something like this happening. I—’’
She sighs.
,,I was in a gang as a teen, too. One of my friends, one of my girls got killed. I immediately left. I was so angry. Of course I’m upset with Keisuke’s death. But I can’t help but love each of his friends because I know how much he’d loved them, how much they’d loved him, and that you all only ever wanted the best for him. And, Kazutora, of all his friends, I’ve known you the longest. I know you were a broken kid. One that had no clue what to do with his life. I am angry at you. Of course I am. But screaming at you now doesn’t bring back my son, so why should I?’’
It takes Kazutora a bit to say something. He continues staring at the table, fidgeting with his hands, and Ryoko fears he’s about to cry. But then he speaks up again.
,,Ms. Baji—’’
,,Ryoko. Call me Ryoko’’, she interrupts him quietly.
,,Ryoko, I’m sorry. I regret it.’’
,,I know’’, she admits. ,,I’ve always known.’’
And then she starts shoveling the rest of her rice into her mouth, and Kazutora mirrors her.
When they’re both finished, she carries both of their empty bowls to the sink, and begins washing them. Kazutora downs the last of his water, then joins her to dry the clean tableware.
,,Kazutora?’’
He hums, and turns his head to face her.
,,I forgive you.’’ It’s barely a whisper, but Kazutora’s eyes light up. He blinks, and they look glossier than before now, but he doesn’t shed any tears.
,,Thank you’’, he whispers.
Ryoko pulls him into another tight hug.
She forgets that the water is still running. All she focuses on is Kazutora. The way he gently but firmly holds her. The way he breathes into her shoulder.
She draws more circles on his back, and he relaxes further in her hold.
When they part again, Kazutora snuffles a little, but that’s it. He hesitantly lets go of her, and there’s a genuine smilet on his lips.
,,Chifuyu’s waiting for me’’, he explains.
,,Come visit me together with him sometime’’, Ryoko offers, ,,I’d love to hear some more things about both of your lives. About Toman, too.’’
At the mention of Toman, there’s a shadow flashing over Kazutora’s face, but he quickly gathers himself. Ryoko chooses to forget it.
,,I will’’, he promises. And then, he pulls Ryoko into a final hug, and she doesn’t let go until he does.