Date: Mid-April, Meiji 33 (1900)
Age:
Kai – 7
Mitsuri – 7
Kanae – 10
Shinobu – 6
Spring sunlight filtered softly through the paper windows of the Kocho household, warm and forgiving.
Kanae sat with her back straight, hands folded neatly in her lap. Shinobu sat beside her, legs tucked under her, expression carefully neutral. Across from them, Mitsuri fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, pink hair catching the light every time she shifted.
This wasn't a casual gathering.
They all felt it.
Mrs. Kocho poured tea with unhurried grace, her movements steady and practiced. Mrs. Kanroji sat beside her, posture relaxed, eyes kind but sharp—she missed very little.
"So," Mrs. Kocho said gently, setting the teapot down, "Kanae told me you wanted to talk."
Mitsuri swallowed.
"Yes, ma'am."
Shinobu glanced at her sister, then looked away.
Kanae took a slow breath. "We… wanted advice."
Mrs. Kanroji smiled softly. "About Kai, I assume?"
Mitsuri's face turned crimson instantly. "H-How did you know?!"
Mrs. Kanroji chuckled. "Sweetheart, you wear your heart on your sleeves. And sometimes on your face."
Mrs. Kocho's lips curved slightly. "And sometimes in the way you look toward the door when he isn't there."
That only made Mitsuri sink lower.
Shinobu crossed her arms. "…This was a bad idea."
"No," Mrs. Kocho said calmly. "This was a brave one."
Shinobu stilled.
---
Kanae spoke first.
"I don't think any of us are confused about what we feel," she said carefully. "But we don't know what those feelings mean—or what we should do with them."
Mrs. Kocho nodded. "That's an important distinction."
Shinobu clenched her fists. "I don't like him like that," she blurted out, then winced. "I mean—maybe I do—but I don't want to. I just—he makes me angry. And calm. And I hate that."
Mrs. Kanroji laughed softly, not unkindly. "Oh, Shinobu dear… that's a very familiar kind of trouble."
Shinobu scowled. "It is?"
"Very," Mrs. Kanroji said. "Especially for people who don't like feeling vulnerable."
Kanae watched Shinobu carefully, then spoke again.
"For me," she said, voice steady, "I feel… concern. Respect. Something warm. I don't want to possess him. I just want him to be okay."
Mrs. Kocho studied her eldest daughter with quiet pride.
"That's affection rooted in empathy," she said. "Not romantic yet—but it could become so, given time."
Mitsuri's hands twisted together.
"I think mine is different," she admitted softly. "I like him. I really like him. When he's nearby, I feel happy. When he smiles at me, I feel special. And when he's tired, I want to help."
Her eyes shimmered, but she didn't cry.
"I don't want to rush him," she added quickly. "I just… want to stay close."
The room fell quiet.
Mrs. Kocho folded her hands. "You're all describing different shades of the same thing."
Shinobu looked up. "…Which is?"
"Connection," Mrs. Kocho replied. "Care."
Mrs. Kanroji nodded. "And those feelings are not wrong. But they are young."
Mitsuri stiffened. "That doesn't mean they're fake."
Mrs. Kanroji smiled warmly. "No, sweetheart. It means they're fragile. And precious."
Kanae felt something ease in her chest.
---
Mrs. Kocho leaned forward slightly.
"Now," she said, "we need to talk about Kai."
All three girls tensed.
"He is… unusual," Mrs. Kocho continued carefully. "Not because he's gifted—but because he carries himself like someone who's already lost something important."
Kanae's fingers tightened.
"Yes," she whispered. "That's exactly it."
"He is kind," Mrs. Kocho said. "But cautious. He listens more than he speaks. And when people grow attached to him, he feels responsible for their hearts."
Shinobu frowned. "…That's stupid."
"It's human," her mother corrected gently.
Mrs. Kanroji sighed. "That boy reminds me of someone who learned too early that strength has consequences."
Mitsuri hugged her knees. "So… should we stop feeling this way?"
Mrs. Kocho shook her head immediately. "No."
"Then what?" Shinobu demanded.
Mrs. Kocho met each of their eyes in turn.
"You don't compete," she said. "You don't demand. And you don't try to fix him."
Kanae nodded slowly.
"You walk alongside him," Mrs. Kanroji added. "At your own pace. Let him grow. Let yourselves grow."
Mitsuri's voice trembled. "What if one of us gets hurt?"
Mrs. Kocho smiled sadly. "Then you will learn something important."
Shinobu looked down. "…And if he leaves someday?"
The question hung heavy.
Mrs. Kocho didn't avoid it.
"Then the time you shared will still have mattered."
Kanae felt tears sting her eyes.
---
There was a long silence.
Then Mitsuri scooted closer to the others.
"I don't want to fight," she said quietly. "I don't want this to break us."
Shinobu hesitated, then muttered, "…Me neither."
Kanae reached out, placing her hand over theirs again—just like before.
"We'll be honest," she said. "With ourselves. And with each other."
Mrs. Kanroji smiled. "That's more mature than many adults manage."
Mrs. Kocho stood, signaling the end of the talk.
"You've done well today," she said. "All of you."
As the girls rose, lighter but thoughtful, Mitsuri paused at the doorway.
"…Thank you," she said sincerely.
Mrs. Kocho inclined her head. "Remember—feelings don't demand answers immediately. They ask for patience."
---
Outside, the wisteria swayed gently.
Unaware of the conversation it had sheltered.
Unaware of the quiet promises made beneath it.
And somewhere down the street, Kai walked with a basket under his arm, breath steady, unaware that three hearts—and two wise women—had carefully chosen not to pull him in different directions.
But to let him walk forward.
Surrounded.
Not trapped.
For now, that was enough.