A night had passed, and I must admit that it took me a long time to fall asleep.
I kept overthinking, about bad things, about Ema, of course. Intrusive thoughts filled up my mind for hours until everything randomly faded black to the next day.
I woke up to a scent I hadn't smelled in a long time. Miso soup, freshly cooked rice, and grilled fish.
'What's this feeling...?' I thought, feeling a bittersweet sensation in my heart, before realization hit. "Ah, Miso soup... My father's favorite dish. I wonder why mama has made it..."
For a split second, in the haze of awakening, my brain erased the last twenty-four hours. I thought it was just a regular Sunday. Or rather, one of those ideal Sundays I had always dreamed of but that had never actually happened.
Then, the dull ache in my back reminded me I was on the couch. And the silence in the house wasn't the relaxed quiet of a holiday morning, but the tense silence of people holding their breath to avoid making noise.
I sat up, rubbing my eyes. The blanket slid to the floor. From the kitchen came the faint clinking of dishes.
I walked to the door and stopped on the threshold, paralyzed.
Kanna was there, standing in front of the stove. She was still wearing Ema's pajamas. The sleeves were slightly too long for her, covering half of her hands as she carefully handled the chopsticks. Her short black hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, leaving exposed the bruise on her cheek that now, in the morning light, looked like a cruel, purple brand.
Judging from her surprised expression, she was coming to wake me up.
She looked... perfect. She looked like she had lived here forever.
And it was terrible. I literally saw her sister for a second.
"Ah... Good morning, Fumihiro," she said, turning abruptly as if I had caught her doing something forbidden. She tried to smile, but her eyes frantically searched my face for reassurance. "I hope you don't mind... I wanted to make myself useful to thank you for your hospitality, so come down for breakfast." She said before walking down , towards the kitchen.
She didn't even wait for my reply.
I followed her, silently, and walked down the stairs directly to the kitchen.
My mother, seated at the table with a steaming cup of tea in her hands, shot me an indecipherable look. She didn't say anything, but I knew she had been watching Kanna move around that kitchen the whole time—judging, assessing, perhaps feeling pity.
"You didn't have to," I said, my voice still thick with sleep. "You're hurt."
"It doesn't hurt, really," she rushed to say, bringing the bowls to the table. "Please, sit down."
I sat. It was absurd. Kanna was serving me breakfast in my own home, wearing the clothes of the girl who had destroyed my heart, acting like she was my... what?
At that moment, Takibi trotted into the kitchen, his hair sticking up in every direction. "Mh... smells good..." he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. He climbed onto his chair and looked at the set table with shining eyes, then turned toward Kanna.
The smile froze on his lips. He tilted his head, confused.
"Where is Ema-neechan?" he asked, with the brutal innocence only children possess. "Why is Kanna-neechan wearing Ema's pajamas?"
His innocence and sincerity made him ask these questions.
The sound of Kanna's chopsticks hitting the bowl rang out like a gunshot. She froze, her face turning pale, then flushing a deep red. She lowered her gaze, unable to answer.
I felt a pang in my stomach. It was a scene I didn't want to see. Kanna, desperately trying to fill a mold that wasn't hers, unmasked by a six-year-old.
"Takibi," my mother intervened, her voice firm but gentle. "Eat. Kanna is our guest today. Don't ask rude questions." She added, while gently patting his head.
"But..."
"Eat," she repeated, ending the conversation.
"Ooookayyyy~" he replied-
Breakfast continued in a tomb-like silence. The only sound was Takibi slurping his soup. Kanna ate in small bites, keeping her head down, as if she wanted to disappear inside the bowl. Every now and then, she would steal a glance at me, perhaps hoping for a compliment, a kind word.
But I couldn't speak. The food tasted like ash. Every thoughtful gesture from Kanna—pouring me water before the glass was empty, passing me napkins—made me feel like I was suffocating. It was a play. A sweet, desperate domestic play staged on the rubble of my relationship.
I wanted to run away and have some time alone.
As soon as I swallowed the last bite, I put down my chopsticks. The sharp click made Kanna flinch.
"Thanks for the food," I said, standing up immediately.
"A-Already?" she asked, looking up with glossy eyes. "There's still tea if you want..."
"No," I replied, perhaps too quickly. "I have to go out."
Kanna seemed to physically take the blow. Her shoulders slumped. "Ah... I see. Are you going... going to her? To Evangeline?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with repressed jealousy or... something else.
The name of Evangeline probably came out from Ema during their 'fight'.
I shook my head as I grabbed my phone from the living room table. "No. I have to run some errands. I need to buy some staff paper to write down some music."
My mother arched an eyebrow, knowing full well I still had a stash in my drawer, but she didn't call me out. "Paper... for music?" Kanna asked, latching onto that detail. "Are you going to write something?"
"Maybe," I cut it short. "I need to clear my head. I'll be back... I don't know. Later."
I didn't wait for her reply. I didn't want to see the expression of someone being abandoned all over again. I rapidly went up to my room to fix my hair and change into some normal clothes and then walked out of the house as if escaping a fire, closing the door behind me and breathing in the cool morning air like it was pure oxygen.
I walked quickly, without a specific destination, distancing myself from that house that suddenly felt too tight. The sky was gray, promising rain, perfectly reflecting my mood.
'I guess I'm in line with the universe today'. I thought, smirking bitterly.
I stopped in front of a vending machine and bought a canned coffee, just to have something warm in my hands that hadn't been prepared by Kanna. I sat on a low wall and pulled out my phone.
The screen still showed the notification from last night.
Kazuha: "Hey... I know it's late and maybe it's the wrong time. But can we meet tomorrow? We need to talk."
I stared at the message. Last night I was too tired, too hollowed out. But now, after that surreal breakfast, the prospect of talking to Kazuha—someone who seemed to know the truth behind Ema's lies, someone who wasn't trying to play a role—seemed like the only lifeline.
I typed quickly.
"Sorry, just read this now. I was wrecked last night. I'm up. What happened? If you want, we can meet."
I sent the message and waited. Minutes passed. I dangled the empty can between my fingers, watching the cars go by. I thought maybe she was still asleep. It was Saturday morning, after all.
That's why I was thinking of starting my walk again.
The phone vibrated just as I was about to put it back in my pocket and head toward the stationery store to make my lie true.
It was her.
Kazuha: "Sorry for the delay. I just finished work."
I read the sentence twice. I looked at the time in the top right corner of the screen: 08:15 AM.
Finished work? Now?
What kind of job did a high school girl have that ended at eight in the morning on a Saturday? I vaguely remembered the rumors about her family... debts, shady business. A cold shiver ran down my spine, different from the one caused by the morning air.
Kazuha was hiding something as big as Ema. Maybe bigger.
I typed a reply, hesitating.
"Work...? At this hour? Is everything okay?"