Chapter 985 - Mother and Son
"—Alright then, if you need anything, feel free to wake me up, even if it's the middle of the night."
"Mm."
"Okay!"
"Good night."
Our party stretched on and on, and it was now nearly midnight. The three girls, having taken turns bathing while the game tournament continued, were now gathered in the guest room where their futons were laid out.
Ashe, in a very casual shirt and shorts that was unbecoming of her character… or perhaps perfectly suited to it. Nia, in a baggy T-shirt that struck a perfect balance between stylish and sloppy, was a familiar sight. But Sora, in a nightgown I was seeing for the first time, was a sight to behold.
"Good night. You must have been on your best behavior, so rest well."
I offered a smile that was half gratitude, half encouragement, and closed the door.
It was a short trip, but not the kind of situation for staying up all night being rowdy. We all agreed it was time to quietly go to bed.
And so, I headed to my own room, of course. Two doors down, past the storeroom, the comforting wall muted the presence of the girls next door—
"Fwaah…"
Thump. I flopped onto my bed.
I was tired, too. I felt like I could fall asleep the moment I closed my eyes.
—————…
———…
—…
"………………, …Alright."
And so, in the dead of night.
After about an hour, I opened my eyes, sat up, and shook my head, which was sleepy but not groggy… I left my room, though no one had called for me.
I was heading, of course…
"—Oh, good morning?"
…downstairs to the living room. My mother was there, sitting in front of the TV with a coffee in hand, killing time as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
We hadn't made any promises.
But my mother, as if she already knew, didn't scold me for my late-night wandering. Instead, she stood up with a small grunt.
"Tea? Coffee?"
"Coffee, I guess."
On the dining table, a cup for me was already waiting. She picked it up and went into the kitchen. —Again, we hadn't made any promises.
It was simply a case of a mother who saw that her son wanted to talk, and a son who knew he'd been seen through, meeting without needing to arrange it.
And so, after a minute or so.
I had taken a seat on the end of the long sofa where my mother had been sitting.
"Here, a special blend."
"It's just instant coffee."
"It's a special blend born from corporate efforts."
Clink. A steaming cup of coffee was placed on the low table, and mother and son were settled on the sofa.
""………………""
—We sat like that for a few minutes. Or maybe longer.
We both sipped from our cups from time to time, with some inoffensive drama playing on the TV as background noise, not really watching or listening.
Then, without any particular intention of timing it, after a period of mutual silence…
"You have something to talk about, don't you?"
"I do."
"Then let me hear it."
We started speaking at the same time. But my mother, turning up the volume on the TV, was a fraction of a second faster. So, in response, I nodded and began the conversation.
At this point, there was no hesitation or doubt.
"—I'm thinking of confessing."
"…………"
"No, that's not right. I'm thinking of giving my answer to their confessions."
"…When's the plan?"
"As soon as possible."
Not during this trip home.
This was something I had decided a long time ago. In fact, this trip home was part of the plan… or rather, a necessary step I had factored in. My mind had been made up for a while.
"………………"
My mother's dark eyes stared at me intently. I met her gaze from the side, not running or looking away, and took another sip of the bitter coffee.
"Should I tell you what I'm planning to do?"
I asked, despite already knowing the answer.
"Even if you didn't tell me, I'd know. Obviously."
As expected, my mother replied as if telling me not to ask the obvious.
"Just watching you for one day… I couldn't help but figure it out."
It wasn't telepathy. It was just a parent who knows their child, letting out a sigh.
And after she sighed,
"Haa… As a parent, I feel I should at least ask. Can you really handle it?"
"I have to, don't I?"
To her obligatory question, I replied as if stating my own obligation.
Yes, that's right.
I had chosen a weight I could neither avoid nor ignore, and I had resigned myself to the fact that I had no choice but to live with that reality for the rest of my life.
…No, that's not it. It wasn't resignation, but a final acceptance—
"—Ow, huh?"
Just then, a fist came down from above and bonked me on the top of my head.
It didn't hurt, of course. The sound I made was just a reflex. When I looked up, my mother's expression wasn't one of anger or exasperation, but was colored by an indescribable emotion.
"…For you two…"
My mother said.
"It infuriates me that I'm such a foolish parent who can't say a thing about your love lives."
As if she were confessing a sin to us.
I knew without asking who the 'us' she was referring to included—me, and one other person. So I let a small smile form, knowing it was what I should do.
And then,
"—If it's about my brother, I'm okay now."
"…………"
"I managed to get back to a minimal level of mental stability on my own. And now, I'm doing even better."
"…………"
"I've learned to like myself. Just as I am."
"………………"
"Everyone told me it was okay. So I think I can finally believe in myself, too."
"……………………"
Another fist descended.
It was uncharacteristically gentle for my mother, and I laughed, wondering what was up with her.
"Mom."
"…What is it?"
I looked at her, reassured. I know my mother isn't the type to cry easily. So, as expected, she glared back at me, and I smiled again, thinking how much she was like herself.
"I'm sorry for being such a ridiculously stupid son, but please watch over me for a long time to come."
"…………Haa… —If, by some chance, you come home crying…"
My mother, who seemed to have guessed my 'answer' without me saying it, let out her biggest sigh of the day.
"I'll take responsibility and slap some sense back into you."
"Ah, yeah, okay. I'm counting on you."
One more time, she gave my head a slightly firmer bonk.
It's okay. No one heard you.