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When Kousei was sorting through old music scores in the living room, the last thing he expected to hear was the swinging of the front door.
For a moment, he thought it was Hiroko who came to pick him up for practice; although, he usually went by himself, and he didn’t have to leave for another thirty minutes. Or perhaps Tsubaki and her family, who visited less than Hiroko despite being next door, but nonetheless would poke their heads in to leave a meal or two. Or maybe it was Watari, or Kaori even — Kousei never bothered to lock the front door, to Mrs. Sawabe’s horror, so anyone could just walk in.
But when he poked his head out in the hallway, he saw the familiar form of his dad: disheveled hair, short slightly unbuttoned, and deep eyebags — maybe even deeper than his own. He was in the process of pulling a shoe off with one hand when Kousei walked in.
Takahiko gave him a looped smile with a nod, and then gestured to his ear, where he held his phone.
Business call, Kousei noted. He pressed his lips together and nodded back, before tiptoeing his way to the kitchen, just to get out of his way.
He supposed it was around that time when his father would come home. He had been so distracted by the piano and all of the nonsense that Kaori dragged him into that he hadn’t really thought of it.
Back in the first year of his mother’s death, his dad used to send him a text to tell him when he was coming home. It had been a while since he had done that though. Now, he simply would come home without informing Kousei; often on late nights, to where Kousei would wake up one morning and suddenly find his father in the living room with a cup of coffee.
Kousei grimaced as he flicked on the lights of the kitchen, immediately greeted with two — almost three — full trash bags on the floor. Which were, of course, filled to the brim with packages of egg sandwiches.
He promised himself he would throw them out eventually, but when he was the only one living in the house, it really didn’t matter if trash piled up or not.
Kousei could hear the distant conversation of his dad on the phone, words such as “I can come over Sunday” and “What does the client need, exactly?”
He bit the inside of his cheek. The last thing he needed was for his dad to worry, to assume that he couldn’t take care of himself. So, without thinking too much, he threw the trash bags in the first nearby closet that he found, and shut the door behind him.
Just in time, apparently, as Takahiko walked in then, closing his phone with a click and letting out an awkward laugh.
“Sorry about that, Kousei. Busy week.”
Kousei knew already; when was it not a busy week?
“It’s fine,” he said, hovering near the door. “I know your work is important. I don’t mind, really.”
It was not a lie, technically. Things had always been this way, so why would he mind? He had gotten used to living alone, and if he really needed anything, he could go to Tsubaki’s house, or even Hiroko’s. It didn’t bother him in the slightest.
Maybe Takahiko felt differently though, as he frowned at Kousei’s words.
“So,” Takahiko said, dropping his briefcase on the table. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”
“I made some omelet rice. Tsubaki’s recipe.”
As he spoke, Kousei’s eyes drifted to the stovetop, which was covered by a thin layer of dust. Untouched for years. He immediately grimaced, and searched his brain for a new lie.
But if Takahiko saw the dusty stovetop, or the abandoned pots and pans in the same place they were three years ago, he didn’t say anything. Nor did he know that even after all this time, Kousei really couldn’t cook. His mother’s influence still weighed heavily on his mind, each time he held a knife.
“Really? That sounds good. I miss omelet rice.” Takahiko continued, his voice light. “I ate at the airport, so I’m afraid I won’t be eating any of the leftovers.”
Good, Kousei thought. There isn’t any.
“How’s school?” Takahiko changed the topic quickly, to Kousei’s relief.
“Fine.” Kousei shifted his weight. “Straight A’s — except for P.E.”
“Any plans for high school yet?”
Kousei blinked. He already told everyone he would be going to a music school, either Okutsu’s piano course, or a school overseas, somewhere in Europe. When asked about his parents’ consent, it waved it off, saying that his dad agreed.
Really, he hadn’t talked about it at all. But, knowing his dad…
“Actually, I was thinking of going to a school with a music program.” Kousei said, speaking slowly. “But there aren’t any in the prefecture.”
“So you’ll be moving out?” Takahiko asked. Then, he nodded. “That’d be good for you. Stretching out your wings — that’s what Saki wanted, isn’t it?”
I knew it, Kousei thought. Then, he smiled, meekly. “Yeah. If I can get in, I’ll be moving out.”
“You’ll be fine.” Takahiko said, with confidence. “Didn’t you win a bunch of competitions? No need to worry.”
Really, his old reputation would do little for him now, since he fell so behind, but he didn’t feel like explaining that, so he nodded.
“No problems cleaning the house by yourself?” Takahiko continued, as if nothing ever happened. “It’s a big place.”
The sudden topic change didn’t surprise Kousei either. Many of their conversations played out that way: one of them would ask a question, the other gave the answer, and then they moved on.
Kousei grimaced as the question sank in, and tried not to think about half of the room he hadn’t entered in years — and how much dust must have gathered in those.
“It’s no problem.” he said, the lie slipping out of his mouth with ease. “I like cleaning.”
“I have nothing to worry about, then.” Takahiko said with a laugh. “And here my coworker was telling me, ‘There’s no way a fourteen year old boy can take care of himself alone!’. She’ll be surprised when I tell her.”
The guilt of lying felt suffocating; Kousei was an honest person, he hated to lie. But his dad was so busy all the time without the extra weight of having to take care of Kousei, and really, he was fine. Maybe he lived on packaged egg sandwiches alone, and maybe half of the rooms were covered in so much dust it looked like a ghost house, but it was nothing his dad had to worry about.
He had managed just fine for three years, after all.
“What about that piano competition you had?” Takahiko asked. “The one you were leaving for the last time I was here.”
Kousei blinked. Maihou. Where he crashed and burned horribly and panicked in front of everyone. He tried not to think of it too much, even if Kaori was proud of the results.
His eyes darted to the clock, looking for an escape. “Actually, I have a lesson today. Sorry dad, I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Oh.” Takahiko blinked. “You’re taking lessons again, too?”
Kousei’s eyes shifted from the clock, back to his dad. “Hiroko-san offered. I really should—”
“Oh, yeah. Don’t let me hold you up!” Takahiko said, loosening his tie as he sat down at the table. “I’ll be home for three days, so we have plenty of time to catch up.”
Kousei tried his best to grin. “Sounds great, dad. I’ll see you later.”
He shut the door behind him, and immediately let out a sigh of relief. His hands still felt clammy, and his chest ached, and the guilt of his lies weighed on him. After all, the longer he kept going like this, hiding the truth under pretty lies that his father wanted to hear, the worse it would get when he slipped up, and it all fell apart.
Really, it was a miracle Takahiko didn’t question the dusty stovetop — maybe he assumed the best of Kousei, and thought he was using the Sawabe’s kitchen.
That sort of wrongly placed fate in Kousei was exactly what he wanted, though. He needed his dad to think he was independent, that he could handle himself like an adult. His dad was already crushed by the weight of his work and the loss of his wife.
How could he possibly handle a broken child on top of that?
He promised himself, that night he caught his dad breaking down in front of his mother’s shrine. He wouldn’t be a burden to him. He wouldn’t let him down.
And any messy, unsightly parts of himself that came up, Kousei would paint over them, and brush it off with a smile.
—
“You’re late.”
Nagi was waiting for him at the doorway of the Seto’s household, her hands on her hips. Hiroko was right behind her, leaning against the wall with a cigarette between her fingers. Kousei searched her eyes for disappointment, and sighed when he didn’t see any.
“Sorry,” he said, kicking his shoes off and changing into the slippers Hiroko bought for him. “Dad came home, unexpectedly.”
“Finally decided he wanted to be a dad, did he?” Hiroko took a drag of her cigarette.
“He says he’ll be here for three days.” Kousei continued.
Hiroko clicked her tongue loudly. “Right. Of course.”
Nagi blinked rapidly as her head turned from Kousei, to Hiroko, and back to Kousei. “Huh? What do you mean?”
Kousei shook his head and gave Nagi a smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing. I’m sorry for being late, we can start now.”
He made his way to the piano room then, hoping Nagi would forget about it. They were already busy with the cultural festival coming out, the last thing she needed was to worry about Kousei’s home life.
“If you say so…”
He heard Nagi reluctantly say behind him, before following him.
They began with scales to warm up, but Nagi’s eyes looked faded, as though she were somewhere else. Not to mention how her fingers kept slipping, messing up again, again, again.
“Let’s stop for a moment.” Kousei said, once Nagi fumbled the scale she was on for the fourth time.
Nagi put her hands down with a sigh. Clearly, something was weighing on her mind, perhaps the upcoming performance, or perhaps something that was more personal. Hiroko was much more suited to comfort, but when he turned to the couch, he saw no one there. Maybe she left to make a coffee.
Kousei turned back to Nagi, awkwardly scratching his cheek. He was anything but prepared for the emotional aspect of being a teacher.
“Is… something bothering you?” he asked, and then winced at the wording. “I mean, you aren’t focused right now, so…”
“Arima-sensei,” Nagi said, her eyes never leaving the keys. “Is it true that your mother passed away?”
Kousei blinked twice. That was the last thing he expected to come out of her mouth. “Uh… yeah. Three years ago. Did Hiroko-san tell you?”
Nagi shook her head. “I just heard rumors from someone I know. That your mom passed away right before a competition.”
Kousei hummed and tapped his fingers against his knee. He supposed that his mother’s death was public information; he remembered the day of the competition, and how everyone backstage told him they were sorry for his loss. Or how the audience whispered how cruel he was to be able to play like normal, up until the point where he lost the sound for the first time.
“But you said your dad isn’t usually home.” Nagi continued. “So, who stays with you?”
Kousei grimaced. Nagi didn’t need to worry about his living situation. She had plenty of her own problems: the festival, school, and other things Kousei probably didn’t know about.
But if he lied, then Hiroko would blow his cover in no time. So Kousei pushed away the thought.
“I’ve been living alone, mostly.” Then, he added quickly. “Oh, but it’s fine. I’m friends with neighbors if I need anything.”
That didn’t seem to comfort Nagi though, as she pressed her lips together. “But why?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why not move with Seto-sensei?” Nagi asked. “She’s like a mom to you, isn’t she? It doesn’t make any sense to live alone. You’re a middle schooler too, even if you’re ridiculously tall.”
Kousei laughed at the comment. Was he tall, or was Nagi just short?
“I can’t do that,” he said. “Hiroko-san has her own family to worry about. She doesn’t need a second child.”
Nagi let out a huff of frustration then, swinging her legs back and forth. “Boys are so stupid. I thought my brother was bad, but you’re even worse. You don’t understand a thing.”
Kousei turned to her and blinked. “You have a brother?”
Suddenly, Nagi laughed loudly, as if she was covering something up. It always freaked Kousei out when she suddenly switched up, but when he asked Hiroko why Nagi did that, she shrugged and said it was none of their business.
Nagi coughed, then. “I think Seto-sensei is more worried about you living alone.”
“You do?”
“You’re already a part of her family.” Nagi said, with confidence. “Trust me, I know.”
Kousei hummed in thought. His relationship with Hiroko was… odd. She was a teacher, an adult to rely on, and as a kid, he called her his friend. He knew she saw him like a son, but what did he see her as?
Kousei started tapping harder against his knee. Seeing Hiroko as a mom wasn’t right either: mom was a label that belonged to one woman in his life, and she had already left. Calling anyone else his mom felt wrong, and it made guilt pile up in his chest until he couldn’t breathe.
It wasn’t that he didn’t understand what Nagi was saying, though. It was clear from the way Hiroko looked at the state of his home that she felt the same.
But still…
Kousei shook his head.
“If I’m part of the family, does that mean you’re included too?” he said. “Koharu has already accepted you as her older sister.”
“Idiot!” Nagi exclaimed. “What are you talking about?! I already have a family.”
“So do I.” Kousei pointed out. “There’s nothing wrong with having two families.”
Nagi scowled, pouting her lips. “It’s greedy.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being greedy. It’s human nature.”
Nagi opened her mouth, and then closed it again. Before Kousei could ask her what she wanted to say, Hiroko waltzed in.
“I don’t hear any piano playing in here!” she turned to Kousei as she spoke. “Are you slacking off?”
Koharu, who poked her head from behind Hiroko’s leg, giggled. “Slacking off! Slacking off!”
Nagi turned to Kousei, with a mischievous grin plastered on her face. “Yeah, Arima-sensei. Stop slacking off.”
“But—” Kousei sputtered, pointing at Nagi, and then himself, and back at Nagi. “You were the one who— and I was— I was just trying to—”
“It doesn’t matter who started it.” Hiroko said, sternly. “Time was lost. Let’s bring back our focus.”
Kousei huffed, but dragging it out would only lose even more time, and Hiroko was right: they didn’t have a lot of that in the first place. So he turned back to Nagi with a sigh.
“Alright, from the top…”
—
The lesson passed quickly, and before Kousei knew it, the sky was completely dark, and Nagi was packing her bag. She slipped it on her back, and nodded to Hiroko and Kousei. “Thank you for the lesson, Seto-sensei, Arima-sensei.”
Kousei waved her off, feeling the embarrassment flow straight to his cheeks. He wasn’t sure if he would ever get used to this teacher thing.
“I’ll walk you to the bus station.” Kousei offered.
“Before that,” Hiroko gestured at Kousei with two fingers. “Come here. We gotta talk.”
Kousei gulped as he watched her disappear into the living room, expecting him to follow.
“Arima-sensei is the trouble~” Nagi said in a sing-song voice.
“In trouble!” Koharu echoed.
“Stop it!” Kousei hissed. “You’re making me even more nervous!”
The girls giggled as Kousei dragged his feet over to the living room. Hiroko was leaning against the wall when he walked in, with her arms crossed and her fingers tapping against her arm.
Kousei prepared himself for a lecture. He wasn’t sure what he did, but it must have been bad.
But instead, Hiroko sighed and uncrossed her arms. “Did you talk to your father about your high school plans?”
Kousei nodded. “Yeah.”
“What did he say?”
“He said it was fine.” Kousei said. “So it’s all good.”
“Of course he did.” Hiroko said, rolling her eyes. “He says yes to everything. He was the same way with Saki. What I mean is, did he ask you what schools you applied for?”
Kousei blinked. “No, he didn’t.”
“Did he ask you where they are? How far are they from home?”
Kousei frowned. “Hiroko-san…”
“He didn’t, did he?” Hiroko said, running her hand through her hair. “That man, I swear. I told Saki he was no good…”
“That’s not true.” Kousei kicked at the ground. “He’s trying his best.”
“Is he?” Hiroko asked.
Kousei bit his lip. Of course he was. It wasn’t his dad’s fault he had so much work. He told Kousei all the time that he wished he could be around more often, and Kousei believed him.
“It’s been hard on him.” Kousei said in his defense. “Mom died, and then his new promotion doubled his workload. With mom gone, all of the work is on him, now.”
“Don’t pretend like it hasn’t been hard on you.” Hiroko growled. “Saki’s death destroyed you. You haven’t been the same since. Where has he been?”
Kousei looked away. He didn’t like the way this conversation was going. He appreciated Hiroko’s concern, but really, after seeing the way his father broke down in front of his mother’s shrine, how could he possibly hate him? All he felt was guilt; like another weight that was pulling his dad down.
“Kousei,” Hiroko breathed out a sigh. “Do you know what it means to be a father?”
Kousei furrowed his brow. To help birth a child? To raise them? Really, Kousei didn’t know what Hiroko was getting at.
“It means to be there.” Hiroko continued. “To support, and hold your child when they fall, even if it scraps your knees in the process. Takahiko is still human, he’s allowed to grieve, but it’s his job as an adult to support you, not the other way around.”
Kousei’s chest felt tight again. “But, I can—”
“Don’t you dare tell me you can handle things by yourself.” Hiroko cut him off. “Takahiko is a blind man — anyone can tell that you’re suffering from the state of your house alone. Hell, it’s written all over your face.”
Kousei wished he could hide his face and melt into the ground. He didn’t dare to look up at Hiroko, but he felt her place a hand on his shoulder.
“Kousei.” she said. “Look at me.”
He didn’t want to. He wanted to go back to the front door, where Koharu and Nagi were chatting. But Hiroko waited for him, until he slowly lifted his head.
“To be a bad person and a bad parent are different things.” she told him. “It’s fine to love your father — although I will never understand why — and admit that he failed you. Saki too, failed you. And I’m no better. I failed you, too.”
He felt her grip on his shoulder tighten with the last sentence, and her voice shook ever so slightly.
“What are you talking about?” Kousei’s mouth felt dry. “None of you failed me!”
Hiroko shook her head. “If you choose to resent us later, when you’re an adult, I wouldn’t blame you.”
“I wouldn’t do that…” Kousei mumbled, and his eyes were back on the floor.
“I’ve made up my mind, though.” Hiroko said, rubbing Kousei’s shoulder. “I’m not going to leave you again. I’m not going to let you suffocate alone in that dusty, dark house again, alright? I’m here to stay.”
Kousei still didn’t know what Hiroko was trying to get at, but he nodded anyway. “Alright. Thanks, Hiroko-san.”
Hiroko moved her hand from his shoulder to his back, patting him twice. “I’m done here. You’re free, kiddo. Go take Nagi back home and get some rest — don’t stay up until 3am playing the piano, you already look like a ghost.”
Kousei grumbled at the ghost comment. “I won’t. I’ll sleep.”
Not a lie this time, as he couldn’t play late nights anyways when his father was home. He didn’t want to wake him up, after all.
“Good.” Hiroko grinned. “I’ll see you tomorrow, kiddo.”
Kousei nodded. “Bye, Hiroko-san.”
Nagi and Koharu were still talking when Kousei came back, the two of them sitting on the floor together as Koharu showed her various drawings and Nagi commented on them. Though, the moment Nagi saw Kousei, she immediately sat up.
“You took forever! What were you doing?” she asked.
“Are you in trouble?” Koharu jumped in.
Kousei laughed and shook his head. “No, I’m fine. It’s someone else she’s mad about.”
Koharu gasped. “Someone else is in trouble?”
“Is it your dad?” Nagi asked.
Kousei checked his phone. “It’s getting late. We should leave now, otherwise you’ll miss dinner.”
“He’s dodging the question.” Nagi said, turning to Koharu. “His dad is definitely in trouble.”
Koharu giggled back.
Kousei swung the front door open. “Alright, I’m leaving without you!”
“Wait, don’t close the door on me!”
Despite his words, Kousei waited for Nagi to tumble out the door and catch up to him. Usually, Kousei would buy Nagi food on the way back, and they would discuss the piece as they walked together. They had no time to buy any snacks that night, though, and it was silent between them, except for Nagi softly humming her part of the piece to herself.
Kousei could still feel Hiroko’s hand on his shoulder, and her words he had yet to fully understand.
To love his father and admit his failings as a parent…
How could he do such a thing when he was the one who chose to isolate himself?
But he thought of Hiroko’s promise right after, a promise to stay no matter what, and it sat in his chest. Right next to his fear of being alone; the fear of the bottom of the sea, again.
But Hiroko was there. And Nagi, and Koharu, and Tsubaki, and Watari, and even Kaori.
So maybe, Kousei had been thinking lately, the bottom of the sea was not such a lonely place after all.