Interlude on the Close Side: A Cat Returns to Her Cradle

The apartment that I left behind belonged to my family. That was the most reasonable way to describe it.

It was likely that the financial contribution came mostly from my father. It could be said that it belonged to him.

For whatever convoluted reasons that adults had, the apartment was registered in my mother's name. Legally speaking, it could be said to be hers.

My sister was the likely heir to the family. One day, she may be in possession of certain assets, such as the apartment. Thus, it could also be said that it was hers.

The apartment's ownership was ambiguous, partially intentionally. Because of this ambiguity, it was best said to be in the possession of our family as a whole. Such incredulous reasoning could override my father's capital contributions, my mother's signature, and my sister's position.

If I could have a say in the matter, I would undoubtedly say that the most contributing party, my father, ought to be considered its true owner. Yet the overly dense collisions of other factors resulted in the formation of that familial black hole.

Where "family" ended and where "self" started was ambiguous.

In the living room of my proper home, three china cups let loose thin streams of steam. The aroma of black tea filled the air.

"I am glad that you are back, Yukino. I have been worried about you."

My mother opened the conversation. Her thin smile was mesmerising; it was as delicate as a painting.

"Yes, mother," I spoke, "I am back."

My sister sat close by. True to her word, my sister was present to slip in a few words where it would be appropriate. She was not slouching or leaning on anything. She wouldn't do that in front of our mother.

"Well, I am going to be staying for a bit since I helped Yukino-chan move back," spoke my sister, "But I'll be heading out later."

She was noticeably less playful in front of my mother.

"I know there were those circumstances, but that was a long time ago, no?" my mother spoke to me, tilting her head slightly, "It is much better for you to live here instead of out there by yourself. I know you have been through a lot."

She had valid, genuine concerns. There was also the fact that I would probably not be living in that apartment and would continue to be driven to Sobu had that certain incident not occurred. But I didn't dislike that autonomy. It was, after all, one of countless contributing factors that led me to the present situation — without which, I would have stayed forever idle.

"Right. I want to speak to you about something," I said as I nervously shifted my legs.

My anxiety immediately started to sprout. I took a moment to pause and sip some tea before continuing.

My mother had brewed the tea. I had not drunk my mother's tea in a while. Compared to my tea, its subtle notes were more pronounced. The gap was undeniable. Yet, I thought the gap would have shrunken since I made tea everyday for the Service Club.

I continued, "I'm back here now because I want to talk about the future."

"…The future?" my mother repeated my words, her head tilted more than before.

She opened her fan and partially obscured her face with it before continuing, "I'm glad you're thinking about it, but to what, specifically, would you be referring to?"

"It's about the line of work," I replied, "Dad's work."

I looked over at my father's favourite couch. It was well-polished and shone like it was brand-new. There was, of course, no one sitting on that couch currently.

"It's always been my dream. I've always wanted to do it," I spoke.

I looked towards my sister. The unfinished line would have concluded with "in place of her". My sister held a nondescript smile, one that was missing her usual slyness.

Behind the fan, my mother sighed.

"Is that so? I had inklings," my mother responded, "I'm sorry. If I had known, we would have discussed your other options in greater detail."

Her eyes appeared downcast. She did seem genuinely remorseful. However, therein lay the trap. If you took all of that at face value, then you would have already lost.

The meaning of her words twisted and turned as the sentences progressed. While she seemed sympathetic at first, her latter words showed her disagreement with the idea. Yet that misguided first impression would not clear away in your mind so easily. Thus, it was hard to argue back against that sweeping blade, which was intentionally dulled on one edge.

In essence, she ignored what I wanted and skipped straight to her alternative options.

"Just ask Nee-san. She doesn't want to put one-hundred percent of her efforts into it," I spoke, pointing to my sister, "I know for a fact that I've been following dad's work more than she has."

"It's true," confirmed my sister, "Maybe I'd like to do something else."

My mother was silent for a moment, perhaps thinking about something. I continued.

"I'd like to be a member of the diet one day. It's not unusual for women in this day and age. To contribute to society, I think this is the best way."

"It takes certain qualities," my mother suddenly interjected, "When I got close to that wonderful man, I knew."

Most of her face was still obscured by her fan, so I couldn't see her smiling lips. I could imagine it, however. Her far-off eyes seemed elated.

"Though, even then, it took a great deal of nurturing to extract his potential. I think, Yukino, that you can reach the same heights as him if you start now. Then, you can consider what you ought to be doing."

Praise was something that was unilateral, not a two-way argument in a debate. My mother used praise as a vector or tunnel to one-sidedly inflict upon me her own will. She appeared to accommodate me at first. However, she only approved of the means, not the end, wishing for me to arrive at a different point.

"What qualities do you think I should be obtaining to become more like dad?" I asked.

She collapsed her fan. Then, she rested her cheek on her hand.

"There is a lot. There is discipline, and that is something that we can work on together. Other things… perhaps trust or diligence."

She looked directly at me before continuing.

"You would be surrounded on all sides, so most importantly, you would have to be able to handle yourself well."

Ah, I see. It was the same criticism that my sister gave me. As long as I constantly relied on others, I could never hope to stand up alone to the masses and speak. Not without a "self".

Energy and blood seemed to drain from my body. I slumped, ruining my posture in front of my mother.

It was not as if I never tried. Shortly after the Service Club was established, I thought I would be able to solve everything on my own. Reality played out quite differently.

"I can tell you've done a lot of things. However, you don't have to try so hard," gently spoke my mother, "You don't have to be so worried about your reputation right now. You are very talented, Yukino. Where you are talented, you can handle yourself very well."

I hung my head. With words masked behind other meanings, she had said that I completely failed to match up to those necessary characteristics.

By telling me to ease up on my efforts, she implied that she did not trust me to be diligent. Or, I was being diligent in the wrong direction.

Reputation was a result of trust. By telling me not to worry about it, she implied that I was unable to gain enough trust to build a reputation.

She did not say that I was talented at everything but only at a subset of things. Only within that subset could I handle myself well. Of course, that the narrow subset lacked what was needed.

"I… don't disagree," I muttered.

Yet, that was only from her limited point of view. No matter how much she could direct the trajectory of my life, she was not the one experiencing my life or the conflicting emotions. That was especially true since we had not seen each other nearly as much over the past two years.

My own opinions and thoughts — it was I who had the final judgement.

"I may not have grown, but I would be inclined to believe that I had changed at least somewhat over the past year," I stated, "As you know, I am a member of the Service Club."

The past year was tumultuous. What I had been drawn into had given me unforgettable experiences. Things got swept under the rug, people wept, and desires went unfulfilled, as we kept the cogwheels turning. That's why, at the very least, I knew what I disliked and what I did not want to be.

"Therefore, mother, I'd like you to wait just a little while longer. Please watch."

I breathed a sigh, not of relief, but of frustration.

My mother stood up from where she sat. It was not an act of retreat. The night had simply advanced to a time where it would be foolish to stay awake for any longer. To keep one's body in a form fit enough to nurture not only oneself but the rest of the family was the responsibility of an adult.

"We shall speak more of this at another time," my mother spoke with a graceful air, "At that time, I'd like you to speak more clearly about it."

I responded, "Yes, mother. When the time comes."

She sipped her tea, finishing off what was left of it. She placed her empty cup on the table. She asked my sister to clean up here, to which my sister complied. Then, she headed for her bedroom.

"Well, Yukino-chan, I can kind've guess what you're thinking, but this was probably the best possible outcome, right?" said my grinning sister.

"That's true. It was a postponement," I said, nodding.

It gave me time to act once more. But that would be the last time. I could continue to converse with her about it, but her patience was limited. If, at the end, I were to show up empty-handed, it would truly be finality.

My sister gathered up the china. She gave the impression of slobbery and procrastination, but she would still rarely shirk off something she had agreed to do. In fact, she had enough spirit in that developed body to do things that others would find exasperating (though usually to achieve something nefarious). To act and to get results, that was also a trait of adulthood.

Compare that to myself. I would study, think and act with every ounce of my being. Yet a certain other person would always end up stepping in, time and time again.

I was not ashamed of receiving aid. Rather, I was worried that this entire arrangement was causing irreparable damage on either end.

I found myself in such a situation, where my mother could not believe in my own dreams and where I worried about a certain person overextending his reach, because I had failed to grow.

Growing meant attaining a self, one that could set and achieve its own goals. That self was supposed to be reliable and respected by everyone. That was not who I was right now.

Without a proper self, I had to fall back on family. That ambiguous amalgamation was all I had left. Perhaps that was the reason why I felt compelled to return to this cradle.

There was nothing wrong with family itself. What was wrong was trying to steal a self from that family. I was not my sister, but I went too far in trying to emulate her. That was equivalent to living a sham life.

However, family, was also a springboard for growing that self. It was self-evident in the classical order of events: a girl who grew up to become a woman would eventually move out.

In actuality, I had done the opposite and moved back in. My family would not fail to forcibly launch me into adulthood, as wholly designed by my mother, but I would lose all that I had gained. If I stumbled over that last chance, then the Yukinoshita Yukino of today would have to give everything up.

There were distant sounds of running water and clanging cutlery. If that person, who was washing the cups right now, was complaining about the chores, the complaints would have been drowned out by those sounds, if they were at all muttered in the first place. Outside or at the apartment, it would be different. However, at this house, she kept most such mutterings under her breath.

One way or another, I would grow up.

Interlude on the Far Side: A Cub Leaves Her Den

My knees touched the floor. Funnily enough, there was no discomfort, even on the hard and solid ground. The tips of my fingers also met the ground, in front of my body. My back was completely straight; my posture was oh-so-perfect.

"Thank you. Thanks for doing so much for me."

Letting loose those words, smiling all the while, I arched myself forward, until my face was close to the floor. This was a bow, not between a wife and husband, nor was it between a maidservant and her master. There wasn't exactly a feeling of possession or welcoming back or anything. It was just pure gratefulness, between a little sister and her brother, for all 15 years.

Wait, oh my gosh, I actually did it. What's coming over me? I didn't actually trust myself to follow through so well. Oh no, oh wow, what-am-I-doing—

"You idiot, what the heck is that? That's embarrassing, stop that," spat out that gruff person, with a voice as unsteady as that hand holding a vibrating cup of coffee.

"Hehe, I just wanted to try saying that," I said, as good-naturedly and as normally as possible, "I thought it would score me some high points."

Talking about some imaginary points like some video game or hidden counter in a galge was a silly thing that I've always been saying, mostly to my brother. Hey, it's not that weird. Just like how girls keep track of their calories, I keep track of my awesome behaviour.

But even as I thought about those ridiculous things or how I tried to steer our conversation towards our usual banter, I could not stop my face from heating up like a boiling pot of soup. Ah, it's definitely going to spill over at this rate and cause a big mess.

My brother rambled, "You didn't score some high points. Besides, doesn't that sound like you're off to become a bride or something? Nope. I really don't approve of you getting married either way. And also, what? Really, you should sto-"

He left what he was saying unfinished. I could barely understand what was happening in front of my eyes.

His cheeks were blanketed by uncontrollable streams of tears that were as disjointed as his cracked smile. His eyes, usually looking like a dead fish found in any ordinary supermarket, was bursting with both life and sorrow.

"O-Oh, for some reason water is coming from my eyes…" he raspily spoke, "What is this? What? Why am I like this? What is this?"

He repeatedly questioned his dysfunctional self. He was acting like a beached fish flopping on dry land.

I couldn't remember the last time I've seen him like this. No, it might've even been the first time.

I couldn't help it. The sight of my brother leaking tears out of his eyes was so surreal that I unceremoniously laughed.

I pointed out to him, "Those are tears. You're like a robot that has understood feelings for the first times."

He angled his hazy eyes towards the ceiling. His mouth flapped open and close like a puppet.

"THESE ARE… TEARS… THESE ARE… FEELINGS…"

"Why the sudden baby talk…?" I spoke in astonishment.

I chuckled. People could laugh until they cry. But in this moment, if I didn't laugh, I really will cry.

Still robotically staring at the ceiling, my brother remained fixed in place, with odd gurgling moans leaking from his throat. It was truly pitiful. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that my brother doesn't get a lot of thanks for what he does, when he actually does do something deserving thanks. Because of that, this was one of the few things that he didn't have any barriers around.

A brother was duty-bound to accept his grateful sister's thanks in full, even if it was a little early.

I got on my feet. I touched his unkempt hair that was lacking any sort of style as always. I was used to seeing it everyday.

But I already knew. Nurturing was a two-way street. If I actually passed the exam and get admitted to Sobu, Hikigaya Hachiman's job as a brother would be mostly complete. As hopeless as my brother was, I could also tell that my job as a sister was also nearing its end.

That thought threatened to leave my eyes in the wettest of forms.

I faced away so that he couldn't see my face. I was, of course, smiling. If I was only sad, that it would've probably been a lot more bearable. I would have the option of cheering myself up. Right now, I couldn't even decide what to think.

The rotten fruit doesn't fall far from the Hikigaya tree. I was sure that my expression was also super pitiful.

"I'll go heat up the bathtub," I hoarsely spoke, "I'll be the first one to use it, okay?"

I used my excuse to escape. I was still a child, after all. Acting a little troublesome should be forgivable.

Family was a place where siblings could grow together. You would bother each other, spoil each other, and nudge each other closer and closer to adulthood. In time, your worries would grow to beyond family. That's when it would be time to leave the den.

Going on to high school, I was at that door.

Not to call myself a muscly lady, but I was no longer a weak little child. I could take care of myself. I could even take care of someone else. Even if something was difficult, I was more likely to challenge it head-on than to hide behind someone's back. I no longer needed it. That's why I could tell him "thank you".

With new priorities, he was also at that door.

Yukino, Yui, and maybe even another. Or even more. There was a lot more now. The amount of worries that my brother held had finally reached a point where he would usually come home with complicated expressions. In the future, he probably won't have time to worry about his little sister anymore.

That's great, Onii-chan. Komachi will always cheer for you! One way or another, I will always watch out for you, just as you watch out for me.

In the end, I couldn't stop the tears from flowing. As I released myself into the hot water of the bathtub, I silently wept.