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*
A month before Taichi’s thirty-third birthday, his father dies. It had taken several hours for him to do so. Through it all, Hikari sounds the emptiest she’d ever been, narrating news of change in a series of voice notes they leave each other. The emptiness could also be the shaky connection, weak signals unable to carry the weight of a word. Satellite calls never held as well as imagined, even though he isn’t supposed to be using his for this. Still, Taichi is thinking about when he will have time to write Mission comms about the connectivity problem, and whether he can get their office to expense the fix rather than his, when Hikari sends him the voice note saying it’s over, and Taichi sends her back an okay as the flight attendant brings him a club soda, so Taichi also says thanks, and his sister does not know how to ask what thanks is supposed to mean. In the end, Hikari just repeats herself, so Taichi says okay. Twenty-six minutes to home. It’s only after the plane lands—bumpily, in a sea of fog—that he remembers the drink in his hand, and how it’s all too late now.
*
In the days that follow that day there are a lot of people, all around and everywhere. It’s something he hadn’t noticed as a witness or a guest at other mourning rituals, how little permission there is to be by yourself. Instead, Taichi has to adjust every sense in his body to the steady stream of bodies all around him. If he’s dazed, and not himself, it’s surely because of this, and not because all week his mother wouldn’t get out of bed and then off the floor, or because his sister keeps apologizing to him for his having to step in and help with arrangements when she knows how busy he is, or because Jou and Yamato and Koushiro are somehow always in sight, unable to leave him alone, or imagine that alone is something Taichi might desire. Their attention loosens something strange inside him, and this strangeness is what keeps his eyes dry when he looks in the bathroom mirror on the morning of the funeral and sees his father looking back at him. Susumu appears as exactly half his age, dressed in a black suit and tie, a white shirt. Taichi frowns, and his father frowns, too. You finally found time, did you? asks Susumu. Yeah, I found it, says Taichi. I mean, you always have time. You just have to want to make time, too. Okay, says his father, like they understand each other at last. And is this the time you wanted?
*
There’s an odd noise coming from one side of the reception room. Taichi only looks when he realizes it’s something the people around him at the funeral dinner are hearing, too. This time, the gradual collection of his senses takes the form of Koushiro with his neck bent in half, his face parallel to the table. He’s crying ugly, the tops of his ears blood red. Taichi feels his own getting warm then, too, stomach knotting, something vile on his tongue. Opens his mouth to let the monster out, and a palm settles along the back of his neck, holding him to the earth. Yamato draws his hand away only after Koushiro has regained himself, too, even though he has yet to lift his head, look Taichi in the eye. Knows it won’t do them any good if he does, because Taichi is not in the frame of mind to see him. Still, it’s hard for Koushiro not to flinch when he hears he isn’t even his dad crawling out from the back of Taichi’s throat, and Yamato saying we all loved him, and Jou not saying anything at all.
*
As a matter of habit, Taichi had not packed for more than a week, because had not had to be home for longer than a week since he was twenty. Now with bereavement leave and matters of estate, he found himself with tediously domestic problems. At least this was a simple one, a carbon copy of his father. Two days after they sealed away the bones and ash, Taichi goes into his parents’ wardrobe and comes back wearing faded parachute pants, a red crew neck pullover, a clip on tie, and an Orix Buffaloes baseball cap. His mother laughs for the first time all day. He loved that team more than me, she says. Than any of us, says Hikari, laughing, too. No, you two were his whole life, says Yuuko. Taichi can tell she means this, because her eyes are so happy. Don’t you think if that were true, he starts to ask, but his sister interrupts him, Taichi. Their mother gets very quiet. He grins and turns the hat the wrong way. The band is too tight, pinches the flesh of his temple. I’m joking, he says. They both just stare at him, seeing the ghost. He takes the cap off. Whatever, says Taichi. Then, looking at his mother’s face, Yeah, we were his whole life.
*
It occurs to Taichi he should call his mother sometime between the fifth and eighth shot, but Jou will not lend him his phone. What’re ya ‘fraid I’ll see? he asks. Cozies closer, eyebrows dancing. Jou sputters, fizzles, but ultimately deflates, sheltering under the protective order of an unamused Yamato. Drink your water, says Yamato. Make me, says Taichi. They don’t, of course. None of them have made him do anything, recently. He’s not really sure how to feel about it, so he mostly feels angry. His whole body a live wire. It gets worse whenever he sees Koushiro looking out for him, round eyes all soft and lonely, understanding. His most loyal friend. Oldest, too. The kind of childhood friendship that holds you in both place and time, unable to grow out of each other. And, he tells himself afterwards, the kind that also gives him permission to turn to Koushiro and address him direct. You know you can stop being weird, right? says Taichi. You already lost a dad. Or did you forget? Koushiro doesn’t reply, because Yamato’s fist does it for him. Taichi stays on the floor of the bar. Not even Jou helps him up.
*
But Jou does bring him something cold for the swelling. Joins him on the ground in a low squat with a plastic cup of ice, loans him a handkerchief to wrap the cubes two at a time. The bar floor is sticky and unwashed. His disdain with this fact makes Taichi smile, and that makes his jaw hurt more. Ow, he says, for the drama. Jou frowns, You’re going to make people tired about feeling sorry for you. It’s not cool to talk about your feelings, says Taichi. When have you been cool? asks Jou. Taichi says ow again. Jou moves his hand off his cheek to check the bruising. His touch is so tender it makes Taichi’s eyes sting, but that could also just be the force behind Yamato’s undefeated right hook. The fact is, Taichi still hasn’t cried about his dad. Not even now, when he looks over at his friend like a kid who hasn’t grown out of himself. Jou, he says, slow with the disbelief. I think my dad died. I think that’s something that is happening to me. Yeah, says Jou, remembering back to when it had been his turn to sit on a floor in his disbelief. He did. And I’m sorry, Taichi, but I think that’s what dads do.
*
Yuuko tells him she doesn’t believe that Yamato would do something so mean. The dark welt across Taichi’s jaw does nothing to change her opinion. You really think he’s perfect, teases Taichi. He’s a good boy, Yuuko says. That’s what you say about the family dog, says Taichi. His mother is displeased, but at least she stops talking about Yamato now. At the table, Taichi continues eating the breakfast she made him out of the side of his mouth. The eggs are mushy, as they usually are, but this time he’s grateful, as he can’t open his mouth too wide anyway. Probably a cosmic sign. Yuuko finds a straw in her catch-all kitchen drawer, which she puts in his glass of tomato juice. It’s a curvy, crazy pink thing, with a little flamingo topper. I thought the kids were in their dinosaur phase, he says. Oh, they are, says his mother. He got these because birds are dinosaurs. I know, I know. Your sister made that same face at him. Taichi pictures the exchange easily: his nephews’ confusion, Susumu’s enthusiasm. I mean, he’s not wrong. Notes the tense he’d used at the same time his mother does. He looks down at his eggs. I wish, starts Yuuko, I wish you could have been here. He loved you so much. He wanted to tell you that himself. He waited as long as he could, to tell you. I know he did.
*
It’s another week, and his jaw should not be hurting this much. Oh, shit, says Yamato, when he sees how purple half his face is now. They’re at an outside table, at the coffee shop next to Yamato’s office. Taichi had shown up bored, and Yamato had made him wait over an hour. Didn’t feel guilty about it until he saw him. I mean. Fuck. Sorry. I deserved it, says Taichi. Honest like this only like this, when it’s just the two of them. Not really, says Yamato, honest, too. He pauses a moment. There’s no rush to get back to yourself. Just try not to take it out on anyone else. Taichi turns his head, May I present you with my cracked jaw? Shut up, says Yamato. He looks worried. Maybe we should stop by Jou’s clinic. Taichi snorts, You know Jou’s a vet, right? Be insulted if you want, shrugs Yamato. That’s my problem, says Taichi. I don’t know shame. Feel free to disagree, he adds when Yamato stays silent. Hey, did you know my mom thinks of you as part of the family? Wanna guess which part? No, thanks, says Yamato finally, politely, sipping his coffee slow. You know my rule for dating is no one with kids. Gross, and fuck you, says Taichi, who still laughs until his face stops hurting, or at least until the hurt is not the only thing he can feel.
*
Koushiro has eaten dinner with the Yagamis on Thursdays since he was eight years old. This Thursday, he’s in Hikari’s old chair, Taichi across from him, and Yuuko in the middle. She piles Koushiro’s rice bowl as high as Taichi’s. Later, alone over digestive tea—another of his mother’s unique kitchen inventions—Taichi tries to tell Koushiro he’s sorry without using those words. Instead, he says, I can't believe you’re going to be the first one of us with a kid. It’s too early to say, answers Koushiro, deferential as an instinct. Taichi rolls his eyes, Okay. Well, not like the three of us are beating you there in the next couple of months. He talked about you all the time, says Koushiro, into the teacup, getting right to the heart of what he had come here to say. He’d ask me to explain what we were doing, things with the Mission. He’d say he didn’t want to bother you, so he’d ask me. That was, that was what we would talk about. You. Pausing, Koushiro braves a glance across the table. Taichi isn’t looking anywhere. Isn’t seeing anything either. Then, I didn’t tell him not to bother me. If that’s what he told you. I just didn’t always want to make the time to call back. You know? Koushiro is starting to look sorry again, and Taichi doesn’t want to go there. Whatever. Fathers and sons, right? Koushiro looks into his teacup and Taichi wishes he weren’t such a shitty person. As you’ll soon find out, he says, trying to move on. Actually, whispers Koushiro, we’re having a daughter. No shit, says Taichi. That’s great. Girl dad. Koushiro nods, Girl dad. Then, looking up at Taichi again, Do you think that I, I mean, do you think I’ll be good at it? Yeah, Kou, says Taichi, quiet, and his smile real. I think you’ll be good.
*
The next morning, Taichi wakes up at thirty-three. His mother makes him the mushiest eggs yet, and his sister calls him on speaker so her kids can musically butcher the happy birthday song before they’re rushed off to preschool. I’ll see you and Mom for dinner? asks Hikari, and then hangs up on him as he’s in the middle of answering her, because one of her sons has gotten his tongue stuck in his jacket zipper, and the other one is already trying to eat his packed lunch. After breakfast, Yuuko reminds him about his sister’s new home address and then goes out to meet her friends, which makes Taichi want to hunt down his friends, too. He’s disappointed to find they’re all at work, the traitors. But it’s a national holiday, he says into the voice note. I renounce my citizenship, says Yamato’s text reply. We’ll take you for drinks after your dinner, says Jou. And Koushiro says, Happy birthday, Taichi. Alone, and quiet, Taichi leaves the family living room and goes into his parents’ wardrobe again. He takes out the baseball cap, puts it on, and studies himself in the bathroom vanity. Guess what? he says to his father looking back at him in the mirror. Today, I’m as old as you were when you had me. Isn’t that weird? Then, when Susumu does not answer, Taichi says, Another thirty three and I’ll be all caught up. Hey, what do you think I’ll make of it? Taichi waits and listens and looks for as long as he can. After even longer than that, he scrubs his face dry. Turns the hat the wrong way, and goes back to the rest of his life.
*