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Music hummed through the car. Hanging from the ceiling were a bunch of trinkets of various shapes and colours that swayed gently. Hands on the steering wheel, shoulders relaxed, Kojiro was quietly tapping along to the rhythm. Trees passed by one by one ; it was a sunny afternoon.
The sounds of regular clicking came from the passenger seat, Miori holding her camera as she reviewed pictures she had taken during the holidays.
Her soft chuckles could be heard whenever something amusing appeared on screen.
“You have been at it for a while now, how many photographs did you take ?” the man asked her, eyes never leaving the road.
“Probably too many,” she joked. “I just couldn’t miss the opportunity. I’ve seen them so little these past few years...”
Kojiro opened his mouth to answer but stayed silent, and stopped tapping along.
His eyes slipped over the rear-view mirror, shooting a glance at his son in the back.
“Hey Champion ! You’ve been mighty quiet. What are you up to ?”
Teruya looked up, his face brightening up as if hit by a ray of sunshine. He quickly leaned forward as far as his seatbelt allowed him to, holding a colourful drawing to his father’s face.
“Look look ! It’s a jacket that reflects light !” he exclaimed as he shook the drawing around, excited and proud to show off another one of his creations. “You can use it to blind enemies and there’s a hook on the back so ya can hang it to the ceilin’ and use it like a disco ball-”
Kojiro cut him off with a raspy laugh.
“Careful there, Teru. I’m drivin’. You wouldn’t want us to get into an accident, would you ?”
The young man stuck out his tongue to him, displeased, before turning towards his mother.
“Mamaaa !”
The woman ran her hand into the strands of green hair affectionately, scanning each stroke her son had laid on the paper. They were bold and shaky. The lines of a child eager to discover the world.
“It’s beautiful.”
His smile came back full force, making both of his parents’ hearts melt in the process. Miori grabbed his face by the cheeks and kissed him on the forehead.
“You can be unbelievably cute sometimes.”
Teruya smirked, well aware of his parents’ adoration for him.
"But be careful, you know drawing in the car makes you dizzy."
And quickly rolled his eyes at her remarks. He slumped back into his seat and grabbed another sheet to draw on.
The ride was uneventful for a while, their car rolling all alone on the two way, until-
“Mooom...” Teruya whined with a small voice, holding his stomach. “I’m sick..”
“Goodness, what did I tell you.” Miori turned around to look at her son. He sat bent over in his seat with a sheepish look on his face. “Oh, honey...”
Kojiro gave a quick look at his partner.
“Need me to stop the car ?”
“It’s probably better to, yes.”
The man parked the car on the side of the road and stopped the engine.
Miori stepped out of the vehicle and helped her child out, rubbing slow circles along his back.
Outside of their small group, the surroundings were quiet, with only the wind blowing in the nearby fields. As if they were completely out of harm’s reach, if only for a while; if only protected by their tiny bubble of love.
Once he felt better, Teruya took the first opportunity he found to escape from his mother’s grasp and hid between the plants. The colour of his hair was camouflaging him surprisingly well when his childish laughs didn’t.
Kojiro bent over to reach the radio and turned the volume up before seating back into the passenger seat, watching his son run around through the tall patch of grass. The music changed to a slow tune, laying out the story of a life filled with regret.
I messed up/I wasn’t there when I should have been/I couldn’t be who they needed
So many mistakes in so little words. They felt targeted at him. Yet he couldn’t find it in himself to get mad, or to stop the music.
Miori leaned against the cold body of the car. Slowly their eyes met. She smiled.
It was small, and weak. But also so genuine.
His head barely sticking out from the grass, Teruya called his father with exaggerated waves of his arms.
“Papa papa ! I found a grasshopper !”
His mother let out a noise of desperation, as if praying her child wouldn’t bring it with him. But she couldn’t hide the fondness hidden on her inexpressive face.
There were a lot of things Kojiro wished he had done -or had never stumbled upon- but this ? He wouldn’t have traded it, even under torture. These where the kind of moments he knew he was alive for.