Work Text:
12.
My friends are always telling me how I should act more like a teenager, but I think I'm just about the same as them. I often see others my age waking in and out of my cram school, just as I am. It's normal, if you're interested in getting into a good college and having a stable career to come.
And that's what I want, partly. I guess it's also exciting to see if my hard work will pay off on my tests, and to see my parents smiling.
When they tell me that I must hate my life because of how full my schedule is, I tell them I'm just as happy as they are.
Maybe it'd be nice to go to Phoenix Wonderland over the weekend, but it's just as nice to review what I've learned in my classes today. I'm not alone in this, at the very least.
Why is it that you must care so much about my choices when so many others are choosing to do the same, my friend?
In the end, aren't all variants of happiness valid?
--
It's quite late when I arrive home. When I walk inside, my mom and dad are there to greet me.
"Welcome home, Mafuyu."
"You've come just in time. Dinner's ready."
I give them a small smile as I head towards my bedroom, opening the door and changing into more comfortable clothes. The aromatic smell of dinner after a tiring day of school is just what I needed to wake myself up.
We sit around the table, my parents next to each other while I face them. They aren't very talkative as we each begin to finish our meals, but my mom soon speaks up.
"Mafuyu, how is school?" she asks.
"It was good. We received our test papers back, and I got one-hundred-percent," I say, tilting my head upward to show that I hear what she is saying.
"Really?" Dad asks, letting out a small laugh.
"Of course. Mafuyu studied hard for this test, and naturally she does well," my mom replies, then turning her head slightly to face me. "Mafuyu, congratulations. Your hard work pays off every time."
"Hehe, thank you. I'll keep doing my best."
Mom mentions it a few more times that night.
--
13.
Sometimes I think about if I'm living my life wrong.
Of course the correct answer is "no, I'm living my life as it is supposed to be," but it's hard to get something out of my head once it's in there.
Some days I doubt if I am really happy, but the next day I always bounce back.
The worries leave my mind as quickly as they come.
They're always coming.
When I look online, it seems to be normal. The world is so big, it's easy to get lost in it. I guess it's the same for me.
So when my teachers ask me if I'm doing okay, I tell them I am.
After all, I'm sure they've heard enough of these complaints coming from their other students. It can't hurt to not become one of them.
It's not like I have any idea what else I should be doing.
--
As usual, the sky has darkened by the time I open the door.
My dad isn't home yet; he's been much busier lately, with his job and all. He always has, but recently he hasn't been present during dinnertime. Mom says he's working overtime.
"I made curry for dinner," Mom says as she plates both of our dinner onto our plates, along with rice and vegetables.
"It looks good. I'll get changed and come out right away," I say, wanting to help with the preparations, but knowing that my mom already has it done I keep my mouth shut.
Tonight we sit directly opposite of each other. I scoop up some of the curry and take a small sip. Usually, Mom makes her curry sweet and savory, but today it tastes a bit different.
I've been told that Japanese curry is usually milder than Indian curry, and once my parents have brought me out to try some. Afterward, when I ate my mom's curry at home, I realized the tastes were actually quite distinct. They aren't the same at all, even if they're both called curry.
Mom's curry has always tasted like an explosion of colors in my mouth, where one thing mixes with another to create a whole different flavor.
This is just—
Bland?
Bland. Bland?
How can it be? Mom's cooking is always the best. Could it be that she forgot to add something today? Maybe she's using a different recipe. Maybe—
"How does it taste, Mafuyu?" Her words cut off my train of thought.
No, it doesn't. It only makes me spiral deeper.
If I say it tastes good, will she accuse me of lying? If we both taste the same thing, won't she know that I'm not telling the truth? Even if I say Mom's food is my favorite, that doesn't mean it always has to be the best, right?
"It's...a bit different, compared to your usual," I reply, choosing my words carefully. I take a bite of rice and curry.
It really is more than a bit different... How can Mom's curry taste like this?
"Did you—"
"That's right—"
We speak at the same time, cutting each other off.
"Ah, you can speak first," I say, lowering my head.
"Hehe, thank you, Mafuyu. As I was saying, I did do something different as I was preparing the curry."
What a relief.
"Can I guess what you did differently?"
"Give it a try, Mafuyu."
"Um." I think for a moment. There's no way Mom would completely remove all of the spices and seasoning that goes into the curry. But...she's not perfect. Maybe she didn't expect it to lose all flavor just by taking out some of the ingredients. "Did you use less spices when making it?"
"Hm? Hehe, Mafuyu, where did that come from?"
But is it wrong?
"Ah, then..." I pause, wanting to redeem myself, but I stop myself from rambling. "What did you do differently this time, Mom?"
"I added instant coffee this time. I was looking up methods to improve the taste of curry, and I discovered that a lot of recipes use coffee. The biggest difference as far as I know now is that it's a bit more bitter, and the texture is smoother. Oh, but... This may be why you think it's a bit flavorless."
"Oh." I take another spoonful of the curry onto my mouth, and let it linger on my tongue for a bit. "It's... You're right. I couldn't tell before you told me, but it definitely feels a lot more balanced. I think Dad would like to try it as well."
"Yes... I'm sure he'd enjoy it just as much as you do, Mafuyu."
"Hehe. Of course. Your cooking is the best, Mom."
It's just my fault that I can't taste a thing, Mom. I'm sorry.
--
14.
Recently I've begun creating my own songs and uploading it under the name "OWN."
I heard that music is a good way of expressing your emotions, and I realize that it's much easier for me to explore my identity when using music as a medium.
A lot of my classmates are interested in music. It's thanks to them that I now know a way to discover what these feelings inside me are.
I don't know if Mom knows about this. I'm sure she wouldn't want me to be doing this, losing sleep over something as minor as creating silly songs that will never truly be appreciated by anyone.
I'm sure I'm such an ungrateful daughter.
I shouldn't be doing this to my benevolent mother who is the reason why I am privileged enough to be doing well in all of my classes.
It's thanks to her support that I'm here.
You,
Ungrateful.
--
Once again, I come home late enough for the windows of every house to be shining with the lights inside.
Dad is missing in action, but it doesn't change much. Still, sometimes it'd be nice if he were here too. I almost forget what it's like to talk to him.
"Mafuyu, what did you do in school today?" Mom asks me as we eat our dinner.
I answer with a smile, listing out the things I can remember doing: Studying with some of my classmates during our break time, being the first.
"Is that so? You're very busy, Mafuyu." She laughs; a warm sound that doesn't reach my heart. "Don't overdo it. Getting good grades is important, but managing your time is number one."
"Thank you, Mom. I'll remember it the next time I feel like I'm working too hard," I say, not particularly aware of what I'm saying.
Stupid. Don't take your mother's words for nothing.
"Mhm. No patient would trust a doctor with their life, when she always looks like she's about to pass out herself, after all," Mom jokes—I think she's joking.
It has to be a joke, because I'm no doctor yet.
"Right? I'm so glad I have you to keep me up. It's thanks to your presence in my life that I can keep moving forward," I say seriously, hoping it doesn't sound anything cheeky.
Who treats a joke as something serious? You're making a fool of yourself. Are you trying to make your mother hate you?
"Hehe. Mafuyu, you're such a good girl. Even in times like this, when life gets stressful, you never complain."
"I can't complain when I'm grateful for having these opportunities," I say.
But when am I ever grateful? By lying to Mom like this... I'm taking everything for granted. I'm doing bad things behind your back, Mom. I'm sorry.
My mom lets out a small sigh, a comforting smile on her face. "But I'm serious, Mafuyu. If you ever find yourself stuck, you can always come to me. I'll understand."
"...Yes, Mom. Thank you—"
It's not as if you can understand what this thankless daughter of yours truly thinks of you. Did you know? She thinks she's so misunderstood by everyone that she can't even reveal her passion for creating songs to her mom.
"—but I'm serious, too."
--
15.
I have a person.
Her name is K. We first talked on Nightcord, an app where people can message and call each other on.
I had stumbled upon one of her songs and used the synthesizer I had found in the closet to create my own song based on hers, under the alias Yuki. Honestly, I don't know what happened to me. K's songs are all so warm to me. I've never felt this kind of emotion as OWN, creating songs out of these emotions that have been with me for longer than anything.
K had messaged me first, saying that she listened to my song and wanted to work with me.
Music brings people together, I'm sure.
I just don't know if it really brings "me" together with K.
--
The lights are on when I open the door, as usual.
My bag feels a lot heavier. It's my last year of junior high, so I have a lot of studying to do for these final weeks before I officially go to high school.
I'm sure a lot of students are feeling the pressure...
"Mafuyu, welcome home!" my mom calls from the kitchen where she is washing the dishes. "Dinner's ready, but I haven't put the bowls out yet."
She must have been waiting for me. I had thought that she'd already be done setting up the table by the time I come home, since I did leave cram school a bit later than usual.
"I'll get changed quickly and help you," I say.
I think I hear Mom say something about what a "good girl" I am. Usually, that's something she calls me when she is happy with me.
I feel bad for tricking you like this, Mom. I'm so sorry.
We are quiet when we eat. The only noise I can hear is the chewing of rice and the slurping of miso soup. It's a heartwarming dish, I'm sure, but my heart feels colder than ever if I know a thing.
We are quiet until Mom talks:
"How is school, Mafuyu?"
School? Why, it's amazing.
"Everyone is on edge. It's normal, since junior high school is about to end and some of us aren't yet ready for high school. But I've also found a good group of classmates who I can study with during breaks."
"Don't work too hard. It's good to put your all into something you're passionate for, but you're a smart girl. And you're my daughter, Mafuyu. Even if you don't do well, it won't change anything."
Are you only saying this because you know there's no way I won't exceed your expectations? Then, what if I actually...?
I give Mom a small smile, lowering my chopsticks. I stare at the empty dishes in front of me. My stomach is full, but somehow...
"Thank you for your assurance and the food, Mom. I'm a bit worried about this change as well, but I won't waver. I'll do my best in high school, too."
"That's my girl," she says, smiling proudly at me. "You always have a way of making me smile. When you become a doctor, your patients won't regret being under you."
I smile. Hesitate.
And I nod.
"Hehe, thank you for your kind words. Even if I...don't...become a doctor, I'll always strive to be that kind of person."
"Yes," my mom agrees, surprisingly. "I'm sure that every version of my Mafuyu is a kind girl, even if she isn't a doctor. But this world's Mafuyu wishes to be a doctor, and she always gets what she wishes for."
I smile, again.
I don't deserve it, so I won't ask for forgiveness.
--
16.
There are two more people. Enanan and Amia. Enanan is our illustrator, and Amia is our animator.
We call ourselves "Nightcord at 25:00," because we meet up on Nightcord at 25 o'clock to collaborate.
Even more recently, I've discovered a strange song on my phone, called "Untitled." When I clicked on it, it brought me to a place "Miku" calls SEKAI. Empty SEKAI, specifically, because it is as it is named: empty. Barren.
Miku says the SEKAI is created from my emotions, and "Untitled" will become a song once I figure out what my feelings are.
I hear it's easier to learn things when you're younger.
If that's true, I'm sure I am only walking farther away from the truth every day.
If that's true, I doubt I will find myself any time soon.
--
For once, I arrive home early for the natural light to be enough to brighten the room.
Mom greets me with a small smile. She must have walked into the living room at the sound of my footsteps.
"You're home early, Mafuyu. I've been meaning to ask, how have you been adjusting to high school?"
"It's not much different from junior high, actually... My classmates are nice, too."
"Is that so? And what clubs are you planning on joining?"
"Oh... I'm in the archery club."
My mom smiles, nodding. "Archery club? It's...a good way to train your focus, yes?"
I nod after her, but truthfully, I hadn't joined for any particular. Just that someone had asked me to, and I had said "yes"—couldn't say "no."
"And...what about class representative?" Mom asks, taking an apple from a bowl of fruits on the counter.
"I'm...a class representative, and I'm on the class committee," I say, unsure why I hesitate so. It's not so surprising anymore, is it?
"I see. You're a bright girl, Mafuyu. Would you like some apples? There was a deal, so I bought quite a few."
I look at the bowl my mom pushes forward, closer to me. They're delicately cut, but they don't look like anything special. And it's not like it'll taste like anything, but...
"Thank you, Mom. I'll get changed and we can eat it together, maybe...?"
She doesn't respond for a while; only shakes her head with a small smile. Then, she says, "Unfortunately, I cannot accompany you. I'm sure you're hungry after studying so hard, so you can have the entire bowl. Rest assured, I am full."
So I change and return to the kitchen where the bowl of apples is placed on the counter. I grab a fork and bring the apples to the table, sitting down and taking a bite.
Honestly, it's bad to get my hopes up like this.
No matter how warm a memory is, once you lose your taste, I guess you'll never feel that again. I'm sure Mom put lots of love into preparing this for me. Had she not cared at all, she wouldn't have even offered it to me.
You're such a waste of energy. People care for you and you can't even reciprocate. What are you? A leecher?
"But...I'm trying my best..."
It's hard to swallow. It feels like something's stuck in my throat.
It's uncomfortable.
I hate this.
I...
I want to talk to someone.
And who would want to talk to me.
But I don't want to talk at all.
Mom cut the apple up into eight slices. I've eaten three already. As I pick up the fork to stab into the flesh of the fourth wedge, I feel my appetite slowly disappearing.
All of these thoughts—Stupid, why are you even thinking about it? You're privileged enough to have a mom who cares about your future...
I should finish the rest. If Mom really did spend her time arranging this for me, I can't let it go to waste. Even an ungrateful daughter must convince herself she is not...
--
17.
I ran away.
Mizuki says it's okay to run away if everything becomes too much.
I don't know if it's too much.
All that happened is I got my computer taken away.
I can't access SEKAI.
I didn't do so well on my test.
But Mom said it's okay to do poorly.
I don't know which is worse.
Why am I here?
Why did I go to Kanade?
What am I supposed to do now?
I can't.
Face her.
--
I arrive at the front door as the sun is still up in the sky, barely setting.
I don't go to cram school anymore, so I don't have to stay out until nighttime. It's not much different. It only means I have to work harder during the daytime—
But for what?
For who?
Mochizuki-san is should still be here. When I enter, we lock eyes. She's making dinner.
"Asahina-senpai, you're back...!" she says, surprised but not shocked. She must have known I'd be here soon. "Oh, I'm making dinner for Yoisaki-san... I think there's enough for two people, Asahina-senpai. Why don't you join us for dinner?"
"Are you also eating?" I ask, ignoring how that sharp voice in my head reminds me of how I still haven't regained my sense of taste.
Mochizuki-san is being nice. She's like this on a daily basis. She means well. And she's aware of your situation, even if it's only a bit. There's no reason to get upset. Even I will die if I don't eat. But—
"—I wouldn't want to be a bother," Mochizuki-san insists, then thinks for a moment. "Actually, I...'a-accidentally' ate two apple pies before coming here... I'm not so hungry right now, so you two can enjoy your meal together."
"...Really? Is it that good?"
"Ah, well...! Yes, for me, it's one of the best! And... Oh, Yoisaki-san..."
Kanade leaves her room, probably from hearing the overlapping voices in the kitchen. She must have been expecting me as well, seeing as she doesn't look disturbed at all.
But it's been a few days since I've ran, anyway.
"Um, dinner will be ready in a few minutes. If you'd like, Asahina-senpai, you can make yourself comfortable first. It won't take long, but I'm sure you'd at least feel better if you changed out of your uniform!"
Mochizuki-san, considerate as ever.
I wonder if she's finally the version of herself that she had told me she wants to be.
Not that I could do anything about it.
I get myself changed and sit down at the table where Mochizuki-san and Kanade are chatting, light smiles painting their faces as they talk over a cup of water. When the chair scratches across the floor, they look up.
"Mafuyu," Kanade says my name, and only my name.
"Asahina-senpai, I'll get your bowls. I realized the food is a bit hot right now, but I'm sure it cooled down a bit when I let it set for a bit."
It's a kind of noodle dish, though I'm not sure what it should taste like.
"It's called jajamen," Mochizuki-san explains, pointing to the noodles coated in a brownish-black sauce. "It originated from China, but when it was brought to Japan locals changed a few things to fit our tastes. In China they call it...'zhajiangmian.'"
"I've never tried it before," Kanade comments, mixing the noodles with the sauce. "It smells good."
There are a few vegetables on top, like cucumbers and carrots. The sauce... Well, I can't tell.
"What you smell is probably the black bean sauce," Mochizuki-san explains. "Actually, I followed a tutorial online... They were making zhajiangmian, so it isn't the jajamen we know of. I'll definitely try to make jajamen next time, so we can compare it. Oh, and there's also a variant from Korea called jajangmyeon. It's a bit similar, but I think it's supposed to be a bit...sweeter? I'm not sure."
"That's nice," Kanade says. "It tastes good, too. The cucumbers and carrots on top balance out with the salty...um, was it black bean sauce?"
Mochizuki-san nods.
"Right, and... The noodles are good, too. They're soft and chewy. Thank you for the meal, Mochizuki-san."
"...Thank you for the meal," I repeat after Kanade.
It doesn't really taste like anything. I wonder if it really does taste as good as Kanade praises Mochizuki-san so. I'm sure it does. Even if Kanade has been eating cup noodles as her main meal for a while, I suppose that if Mizuki and Ena who have good taste like the flavor of it, it must be good. Thus, Kanade must know if it really is good.
I don't feel any fuller after this meal.
But for some reason, I feel lighter.
Yet—
How can you live so leisurely when your mom is suffering because of you?
--
18.
It doesn't get better.
When I had thought everything could be better, it only got worse. Dad understands my situation now, but what difference does it make?
He's not the problem here. He's doing all he can to support me and keep me on my feet.
It's me.
I'm the problem.
I shouldn't be like this.
Mom is trying her hardest. She's trying to change. I'm trying to change.
Why do I only continue to bring pain to everyone around me?
I'm just dragging them down with me.
Everything.
--
Once again, I return as the sun is setting.
I could have come back earlier, but why—why is saying "no" so hard? It's not like it will affect someone so much if I don't show up to a karaoke hangout that's meant for a group of friends—which doesn't include me.
But,
They had invited me.
Normally, they would have dismissed me saying I'm an honors student; I have no time for such loitering reserved for the average student.
There's no way I can just refuse.
After all, aren't I trying to prove that I'm more than just that? A "good girl" who excels at everything she does.
But it's not like there's much to prove.
I don't even know who I am even after all this time.
And then, once I'm graduating...
I open the door and Kanade greets me with her back turned, facing the kitchen countertop where an candle is burning. It smells of flowers.
"I'm home," I say, only realizing the implications of my words once they're out of my mouth.
To live in Kanade's house... Would it really help me move forward?
"Oh, Mafuyu..." Kanade turns around and faces me, smiling. "Um, this candle... Hoshino-san created it. When we were making scented candles for Valentine's Day."
"Hoshino-san?" I pause. Then remember. "I can remember the candles... You gave it to us."
"That's right. Hoshino-san... This scented candle that she made for me helped me relax. It helped me...fall asleep."
"It's calming," I say.
As calming as a candle can be, it feels oddly comforting. Warm. Like a hug.
Their hands were warm too... Like Kanade's, and everyone else's...
Mom just wants the best for me. I'm sure I wanted to be a nurse, but...
I don't know anymore.
"...Mafuyu," Kanade says. "I....have leftovers from what Mochizuki-san made me last time. Let's eat together."
"Okay," I say.
It's not like I don't want to.
See, this is easy.
We finish the meal quickly. The atmosphere is lighter than I expected. It's almost like the time Ena and her brother had been arguing over the dinner table, when I had visited. They were almost friendly with each other, even when close to ripping each other's faces off.
But that dinner, with Mom and Dad.
I know they meant well, but—
It moves too quickly.
Not even twenty-four hours and I had been brought back to the exact same place I set out from.
Am I not meant for this kind of reconciliation?
"...Mafuyu. It will be okay. It's okay to think about the past; let's just take it slow. We'll figure out what works best for you, with your parents and with your future."
An abrupt burst of confidence.
A futile attempt at conciliation.
Yet, it makes me feel a bit better.
"We," I say. "And is it okay to encounter setbacks?"
"Of course... Life itself is a big setback, is it not?" Kanade smiles.
She looks at the candle, its smell reminiscent of a certain underclassman.
"Is it?"
The candle burns brightly.
I'm not sure if I smile back, but Kanade seems to think so.
It must be, then.