It was the summer after his first year of high school that Isogai's mother's health took a sharp turn for the worst. She'd always been sickly, so he'd always been helping her care for the house and his siblings, but suddenly she needed his help more than ever before. The inevitable had come, but he'd hoped he'd be able to delay this day by at least a few more years.

"I'm not going to be around much longer, Isogai," she weakly whispered to her eldest son one night, Isogai sitting at her bedside with wide, tired eyes.

"Don't talk like that!" He took her nearest hand and held it tightly, fighting off the urge to cry. "You need to stay positive. You're going to get better."

She didn't contradict him, but her sad smile didn't agree with him either.

"We both know what's going to happen, Isogai," she murmured. "And before that happens... there's something I need to tell you..."

"You should rest, save your strength," Isogai urged, but she shook her head.

"No, Isogai... this is important. There's something... I need you... to know..."

Isogai didn't protest again, but waited pensively for her to continue.

"I was never... completely honest... about your father..."

"My father?" His father had died about ten years ago. It had been an accident. What more to it was that?

"Your father is alive, Isogai..."

He gasped in shock, but she was far from done.

"My husband... was not your father..."

With one fell swoop, he crashed from his momentary sense of hope to a gut-wrenching sense of... loss? Betrayal?

"Then... Orihime and Hitoshi...?" he asked hesitantly, naming his younger siblings with a look of concern.

"They're your half-siblings." She paused to catch her breath, face probably flushed, but it was hard to tell in the glow of street-lights and starlight. "I'm sorry, Isogai..."

"It's okay, it doesn't matter." He rushed to reassure her. He didn't want hr to think that he was upset at her for this; it was what it was, the past couldn't be changed, and he loved her regardless. Her life hadn't been easy, but she'd always done right by him.

"Isogai... when I die... I want you to find your father... and ask him for help."

Isogai wanted to speak, but his tongue felt heavy and his mouth was dry.

"He's a Korean... businessman. He has more... than enough... to support you... when I'm gone."

"Don't talk like that," he pleaded, starting to tear up as he pressed her hand to his cheek. "You're not going to..."

"In the bottom drawer... of my dresser," she continued, disregarding his protests. "You'll find a black box... with a keepsake that will prove... I sent you."

"Mom..." A single tear slid down the side of Isogai's face. He hated it when she spoke about what he should do after she passed on.

"Promise me... that you'll ask him... for help... I need to know that... you will."

"I-I promise," he stammered, then moved her hand from his cheek so he could kiss her knuckles.

"You were always such a good son," she sighed wearily, closing her eyes. She sounded tired, but she was smiling.

Isogai shifted closer to her said, gently holding her hand as he tried to push back the urge to cry.

"What's his name, Mom?"

"Hm?"

"My... real father. What's his name?"

"His name... is Mr. Han."

Isogai sat by his mother all night, but she was dead by morning.

He didn't really have time to grieve for himself, there was too much to do. He had to call the coroner's office and soothe his little siblings, then start cleaning the parts of the house that had been neglected ever since her health had taken a bad turn. He exchanged a few phone calls with the coroner's office and didn't realize what time it was until Meg called. She'd been calling him every day for a while now, sometimes coming over when he needed her help with his siblings. They liked her well enough, and it was good for them to get out of the house for awhile and escape the scent of encroaching death.

Isogai was scrubbing the shower clean, the scent of bleach tickling his nose when his phone started vibrating in his pocket. He sat back on his heels and removed his rubber gloves before he pulled it out of his pocket. The name on the screen sent a shiver of relief through him.

"Hello?"

"Isogai, how are doing? How's your mom?"

Uncomfortable silence.

"She's gone, Meg," he whispered, and she almost didn't hear him.

"I'm coming over, then, and I'm bringing dinner. You haven't started cooking yet, have you?"

"Ah, no, I forgot..."

"Okay, then, I'll be there in an hour. I'll bring groceries with me and just cook there."

"You don't have to—"

"Isogai."

"Yes?"

"I'm doing this because I care. Let me help you."

"... Okay. Thanks, Meg."

"You're welcome."

Isogai always liked the way her voice sounded when she was smiling.

Meg was a huge help in the next couple of weeks while Isogai dealt with the funeral arrangements and the paperwork and all the complications that accompanied the death of a parent. Meanwhile, Meg comforted the younger kids and kept them occupied, letting Isogai continue to work his day job while still compulsively cleaning and organizing the house.

He slept little, never stopping to grieve and forgetting to communicate with any of their other friends. Meg got in touch with Nagisa, Rio, Sugina, and the others, though, telling them what had happened and asking for their support.

When the well-wishes, the flowers, the babysitting offers, the condolence cards, and the pre-made casseroles started rolling in, Isogai was shocked and touched. It wasn't until that night, after Meg had put his brother and sister—half-brother and half-sister—to bed, that he finally had a chance to feel his own grief.

"This is so nice of them," Isogai murmured to himself as he stared into the fridge at the food he'd been given, then turned to look at the cards and flowers cluttering the counter space of his small kitchen. It was his now, because he now owned the house.

He owned a house.

"Even though we've gone separate ways, class 3-E will always stick together," Meg said as she entered the kitchen. She looked a little tired, but not nearly as tired as her boyfriend looked.

"You did this, didn't you?" he asked, a cautious half-smile on his face.

"It's the least I could do." She approached him and tucked her arms around his torso, laying her head on his shoulder as he hugged her in return. She could feel him relax in her arms, and she gave him a brief squeeze.

"You've already helped so much... I don't know how I could ever thank you enough." Isogai leaned back slightly so that he leaning on the closed door of the fridge, eyes closed.

"You taking care of yourself is thanks enough." She straightened up and pecked his cheek. "Speaking of which, have you eaten dinner yet?"

"Ah, not yet." He looked a little embarrassed, but Meg wasn't surprised.

"I'll heat something up for you, then."

Isogai didn't even have the energy to make conversation, so he buried his head in his arms on the kitchen table while she plated his dinner, microwaved it to a decent temperature, then placed it in front of him with a pair of chopsticks. She kissed the top of his head and sat next to him, waiting for him to start eating. He was motionless for a few moments before she lay her hand on his upper back.

"Isogai, are you still awake?"

"Hm?" He sat up slowly, looking quite sleepy, and she realized that he hadn't been awake.

"I thought you might have dozed off." She gave him a sympathetic look, one that bordered on pity. "You really should ask for a few days off. Just let yourself take a break, get some rest"—she smoothed his crooked bangs back, away from his forehead—"let yourself grieve."

Upon hearing the word "grieve" Isogai stiffened a little, the hesitant smile on his face fading immediately. He looked away from Meg and at his food instead. She hesitated slightly before reaching for his hand. He turned his over so that he could hold hers and rub his thumb across the back of her hand. Meg couldn't measure how long they were simply quiet together, the plate of food steaming as it gradually cooled.

"I was trying to stay awake with her that night," Isogai murmured, staring at the old table. Meg's breath caught in her throat, but she didn't interrupt. "I meant to stay awake, but I fell asleep holding her hand... I was only asleep for a couple hours before I woke up, but... it was too late." The tears started to flow, and Meg tugged on Isogai's hand, leading him to the couch where she could hold him properly as he cried. Once the tears started, they began to flow freely, the dam broken by Meg's kindness.

She didn't interrupt him, didn't tell him to stop, just held him in his moments of weakness so that he could be allowed to feel the loss he'd suffered.