New Year's Day.
A time to welcome the new year—redundant as that may sound—and here in Japan, it's a day meant for family.
Unlike Christmas, which feels like any other day here, New Year's Day is a true national holiday. No school, no work—just time for families to spend together.
That's exactly the case with my family today. Everyone's home, no need to rush anywhere. Even Kuro, my cat, is peacefully napping at the foot of my bed.
Since it's New Year's, I decided to sleep in. By that, I mean until eight in the morning. Normally, I'd be up earlier for training, but I'll skip it for today.
I got out of bed, yawned, and stretched. Guess it's time to make breakfast—my parents are probably still asleep. They deserve to rest, at least today.
But first, I headed to the bathroom for a shower to wake up properly. I'd stayed up late last night reading a light novel.
Once I finished showering and got dressed, I went downstairs to start preparing breakfast.
As if on cue, Kuro followed me out of the room and padded after me into the kitchen. I suppose he's hungry.
After reaching the counter, I grabbed the ingredients from the fridge along with Kuro's food.
"Enjoy," I said, serving his meal in a small bowl with his name, Kuro, written on it.
"Nya," he meowed happily, as if he actually understood me—though that's impossible, right?
After feeding Kuro, I got ready to cook.
Miso soup, grilled salmon, rice, omelets, and pickles—that should do it.
"All right, let's get to it."
…
Half an hour later, breakfast was ready. Time to wake up the rest of the family.
I took off my apron and headed straight for the stairs.
I decided to start with Rumi; waking up my parents would be tougher, so I'd better save that for last.
When I reached her room, I knocked twice, but there was no answer.
She probably stayed up late reading again, so she's likely in a deep sleep.
After getting no response, I decided to go in.
I'm not really sure what a typical elementary school girl's room looks like, but I'm pretty sure having shelves packed with panda plushies isn't all that common.
And among all the Pan-san plushies, one stood out above the rest—
The XXXL edition of Pan-san, an oversized panda plushie that happens to be Rumi's favorite. She usually sleeps hugging it.
If I remember right, that giant panda was the birthday gift I gave her last year.
And, as you might guess, that plushie wasn't something you could just buy. The only way to get it was at an amusement park—Destinyland, specifically—from a game where you had to knock down moving targets with a ball.
To win the panda, you had to hit five panda-shaped targets in a row.
It was pretty tough. The fifth one moved too fast, with an unpredictable pattern I could barely follow.
It looked simple at first—a big prize for just hitting targets—but it was a nightmare to actually win. Even the game attendant told me to give up.
After countless failed attempts—days of effort and wasted money—I finally did it. I managed the impossible: hitting all five targets in a row. The attendant stared at me in disbelief before handing me the plushie, saying he didn't expect someone like me to win it.
What did he mean by that? Simple—a fourteen-year-old boy with a plain, unremarkable look isn't exactly the ideal candidate for that kind of game.
According to him, others had managed to win before, but all of them happened to play baseball, so their throwing power made sense.
Still, all that effort was worth it—for the smile on my little sister's face when she happily accepted her gift.
I shook my head to snap back to reality. I'd better stop drifting off in my thoughts and wake Rumi up already.
"Rumi, it's time to get up. Breakfast is ready," I said calmly.
She mumbled a few unintelligible words in her sleep.
Weren't little sisters supposed to be more responsible than their big brothers?
I guess you leave me no choice.
I walked over and flicked her forehead lightly with my fingers.
"Ow!"
The hit was super effective—the target woke up.
"Onii-chan, don't you think that's a terrible way to wake someone up?" Rumi said, rubbing her forehead.
I didn't use much force—just enough to remind her she needed to wake up.
"I should be the one saying that. It's rude not to respond when someone's talking to you."
I fixed my gaze on her, and she quickly looked away.
"Let me guess—you stayed up late reading again, didn't you?"
She avoided eye contact completely.
I had already suspected it, but that reaction confirmed my theory. I don't mind her reading a lot—it helps her develop her mind—but sleeping too little at her age isn't good.
"It's fine if you love reading, but don't stay up so late. You need sleep to recover. Without it, you'll have no energy and feel like a zombie."
As her older brother, it's my job to look after her, protect her, and guide her down the right path.
"Tch." She clicked her tongue at my words.
I'll admit, I haven't exactly been the best role model. It's my fault for spoiling her too much—but I can't help it. I sighed inwardly.
"Go wash your face and come down for breakfast," I said in my usual tone.
She simply nodded while rubbing her eyes.
"By the way, good luck waking those two up," Rumi said, offering her condolences.
"Don't remind me." I let out a sigh.
That's always a tough mission since both of them sleep like rocks—especially Dad, who can stay in bed until noon whenever he finishes a big project, having sacrificed his sleep to get it done.
Normally, I'd let him rest, but since it's New Year's, I can't grant him that luxury. Besides, if he refuses to wake up, I've got a secret weapon.
I walked toward my parents' room.
Knocking is useless—if only tapping the door were enough to wake them up, I'd save myself a lot of effort.
When I entered, I was surprised to find Mom already awake, reading something on her laptop.
"Kaa-san, it's unusual to see you up this early on a day off."
"Oh, Raiden." She didn't seem to notice me until I spoke. "I've slept plenty already, and I needed to finish reading some work files."
My mother works as a supervisor, and thanks to that position, money has never been a problem for our family.
Her appearance could be described as that of a Yamato Nadeshiko: long black hair, graceful and devoted to her family, elegant yet strong.
That's what most people see—but as her son, I know there's another side she rarely shows: the terrifying one that comes out when she's truly angry. She might seem calm and kind, but you'd change your mind if you ever saw her upset.
"Breakfast is ready, so you should come eat," I said calmly.
She smiled after hearing that.
"I'm happy to have a son who can take responsibility for things like this."
"Don't mention it—but I hope to see that reflected in my New Year's envelope."
"I get it, I get it. At least accept the greeting before revealing your true motives."
Mom knows me too well.
I can see where Rumi gets her personality—she's basically a reflection of our mother. Mom is clever, sharp, and good at everything she does. Of course, that also means she doesn't spend much time at home.
"By the way, Raiden, what are you going to do about him?" Mom pointed at Dad, who was still sleeping like a log.
"Don't worry, I came prepared for this situation," I said confidently.
"I'd love to see that," she replied, amused.
"All right, Kuro—I choose you!"
A few seconds later, a black furball appeared at the door.
I pointed at my dad.
"Just like we practiced—attack!"
Following my command, Kuro leaped onto my father and began licking his face.
If you have a cat, you know their tongue, unlike a dog's, is pretty rough.
I learned that the hard way thanks to Kuro, one day when I fell asleep and forgot to feed him. I woke up because of a stinging pain on my face—Kuro had been licking me for quite a while. After a few seconds, the irritation on my skin was enough to fully wake me up.
And just as I predicted, my dad started trying to push Kuro away while still half-asleep. Unfortunately for him, Kuro's got a lot of attitude and doesn't give up easily. In fact, judging by his size and temperament, I'd say he's a pretty tough cat.
After about thirty seconds of being licked, my dad finally got up.
"Hey, Oyaji, how long are you planning to sleep?"
"Raiden, that's not exactly the best way to wake your father…" he said, rubbing his eyes and petting Kuro.
My dad looks exactly like what you'd imagine a typical Japanese office worker to look like—black hair, calm expression, and an easygoing demeanor. Still, I've always been curious about what he was like when he was younger; he always avoids the topic, and even my mom jokes about it.
"If you woke up like a normal person, I wouldn't have to use Kuro as an alarm clock."
As if proud of his actions, Kuro let out a confident meow. Sometimes I think that cat's smarter than he looks.
"Can't you just let me wake up naturally?" my dad said, clearly irritated about having to get up.
"You can keep sleeping if you want," I replied, "but I'll give your breakfast to Kuro so you can sleep all you want. And don't expect lunch or dinner either."
Since it's New Year's, we have a tradition of visiting a shrine around noon, so we usually end up eating out.
"Alright, alright, no need for threats. Why can't you be more patient with your poor father?"
"I'm not the one who turned down a promotion that would've made things easier for you," I teased.
After years of hard work, my father was offered a promotion—but he refused it.
"Raiden, could you stop making your father sound more pitiful than he already is?" my mom said cheerfully as she headed to the bathroom to wash her face.
"Thanks for the kind words, dear…" my dad sighed, looking defeated.
"When you're done, come to the dining room. I don't want breakfast to get cold."
After saying that, I headed to the dining room.
…
"Your cooking is as delicious as ever, Raiden." My mother looked happy as she ate the breakfast I'd made.
"Although I still don't approve of your earlier actions, you really did make a good breakfast, son." It seemed my father was still annoyed about how I woke him up.
Not my fault he's such a heavy sleeper.
It's good to learn how to cook for yourself. Besides, with modern technology, you can teach yourself pretty easily—and if you have enough reasoning, it's not that complicated. That said, I can't really make any fancy dishes.
"By the way, Raiden, which high school are you planning to apply to?" my mother asked, lifting her cup of coffee.
"I'm thinking of applying to Sobu High."
"I don't think you should underestimate that school. It's quite demanding, and the acceptance rate is low," my father said, taking a sip of his own coffee.
"I'll keep that in mind. Still, don't worry—I don't think I'll have trouble getting in."
If I aimed to get first place or rank in the top ten, that'd be a different story. But if we're just talking about passing the entrance exam with the minimum required score, I don't think I'll have any problems. Or so I think…
My father nodded cheerfully; he knows I have no reason to lie, so if I say there's nothing to worry about, it means there really isn't.
"By the way, Raiden," my mother said, her eyes narrowing, "I haven't had much time to ask because of work, but is it true you brought girls over to the house?"
The moment my dad heard that, he started coughing—it looked like he choked on his coffee.
I swallowed hard; my mother's gaze seemed to pierce right through any word I might say.
Subtly, I glanced at Rumi. She avoided eye contact.
I think I found the culprit.
It's normal for someone my age to bring female friends home, but I never really showed any interest in that—except for that idiot. But she's a childhood friend, and since our parents are friends too, that doesn't count.
So at my age, bringing girls home can only mean one thing—and to a mother, that's never good news.
"First, it's not what you're thinking, and Rumi can vouch for me. Second, they're just classmates from school and the academy, so they're only my friends."
"So, you're not denying that you brought girls over?"
Lying is pointless against my mother—she has what people call mother's intuition.
"I'm not going to deny it," I replied, meeting her gaze.
Her stare was terrifying.
"I think you're old enough to hear this now. You're much more mature than most boys your age, so I'll just say it—use protection."
I never wondered where Rumi got her blunt way of speaking from—now I know.
My father and I both started coughing; we almost choked on our drinks. I did not expect Mom to say that.
Rumi looked confused by her words. I'm glad she doesn't understand what that means.
"Don't you think that's something a mother shouldn't say? Besides, I'm not even sixteen yet."
In Japan, the age of consent for that sort of thing is sixteen—it's to avoid future trouble, especially if you end up with a girl who's a bit unhinged.
"Dear, Raiden's right. I don't think you should bring that up while we're eating. Besides, he's responsible enough not to do that kind of thing at his age."
Sometimes my father actually acts like a responsible parent. Good job—please, keep it up.
My mother seemed thoughtful for a moment.
"You're right. But I've said what needed to be said, so that's enough. I just don't want to become a grandmother too soon."
I think my mom can act so carefree it's like she's a completely different person.
After our little talk, we went back to eating while Mom asked Rumi how things were going at school.
When breakfast was over, the moment every Japanese kid looks forward to finally arrived.
"Don't spend it all at once."
My father handed each of us a white envelope. Its contents were obvious.
When I opened it, I counted the money—30,000 yen.
No problem buying the new novels and games coming out.
"Thanks, I'll make good use of it."
"You're growing up, and you help out a lot around the house. It's the least I can do."
It's common for parents not to spend much time with their children because of work.
Since I'm the oldest, it's natural that the amount I receive is a bit higher than Rumi's. Still, she looked happy with what she got.
"Thanks, Dad! I'll try not to waste it!"
You could interpret that as: part of that money will definitely be wasted by Rumi.
Well, it's her money—she has to learn how to manage it.
"Don't worry. If you need more, just tell me. I'll give you whatever you want," my father said enthusiastically as Rumi hugged him.
"Hey, don't spoil her like that."
"It's just money. Nothing compares to my daughter's love."
He might sound like a great father, but he's the exact opposite…
"Dear, don't make Rumi dependent on money," my mother said, smacking him lightly on the head.
"I'll keep that in mind…"
He totally deserved that.
"Putting your father aside, this one's from me," she said, handing us another envelope.
In Japanese society, it's common for the husband to work while the wife takes care of the children.
But when both parents work, there's usually more money—though the kids often grow up feeling their absence, and some end up becoming distant from them.
I, on the other hand, never really thought much about that.
Having lived another life, I understand why both parents need to work—so their children won't lack anything, and they can give them a proper home.
When I opened the envelope from my mother, I counted fifty thousand yen.
"I don't think you're the best person to lecture others about not making their kids money-dependent."
With a big smile, my mother smacked me on the head.
"Ouch."
"You're supposed to say"—she cleared her throat—"'Thank you, dear mother.'"
My mother's smacks always hurt more than you'd expect.
"You're the best, Mom," I said in my best childlike voice.
"That's better." She puffed out her chest proudly.
"I was going to say the same thing as Onii-chan… good thing I didn't," Rumi sighed in relief, still holding the money our mother had given her.
"Rumi?" Mother looked at her sharply.
"Okaa-sama!" Rumi quickly hugged her.
A touching moment between mother and daughter—but Rumi's expression was just a mask to keep from upsetting her.
Rule number one in the Tsurumi family: don't make Mom angry.
Rumi and I both love our parents. Even though they spend most of their time working, I always remind her that it's because of their hard work that we lack for nothing.
Still, expecting us to be overly affectionate might be asking too much. It's not that we dislike them—it's just that, in that sense, we're a pretty typical Japanese family.
I looked down at the money in my hands. Combined, it amounted to about what you'd earn from a part-time job. Not bad.
And as the responsible adult I am deep down, I'll save it… or spend it on unnecessary stuff.
The second option sounds more likely.
"For now, put the money away and get ready—we're going to the shrine. I'd rather avoid long lines," my father yawned as he spoke. He probably just wanted to go back to sleep.
"If you wanted to avoid long lines, we should've gone earlier."
Shrines usually open around eight in the morning and stay open until the afternoon. If you want to avoid crowds, timing is everything.
"In that case, maybe we should just go another…"
Before my father could finish, my mother placed a hand on his shoulder.
"What were you going to say, dear?"
She wasn't even looking at me, but I still got chills all over.
"I-I'll go get ready!"
Without wasting a second, he rushed to his room.
"And that's supposed to be our father…?"
"I wonder the same thing," I replied to Rumi.
In Japanese society, men are traditionally seen as the head of the household for cultural and historical reasons.
But there are exceptions—like in our family, where my mother clearly runs the show.
"You two, what are you waiting for?" she said in the friendliest tone imaginable, which didn't match her calm expression that radiated anything but calmness.
"We're on it!"
"We're on it!"
We shouted in unison and hurried off to our rooms.