● April 25 (Monday) Yuuta Asamura

It was a clear day, and the temperature had been rising since morning. The sunlight streaming into the dining room was dazzling, making me think today would be hot again. The light hitting the glass vase on the table split due to the difference in refractive indices by wavelength, scattering a prism of seven colors. The forecast said some areas in Kanto would exceed 30°C today.

“It’s gonna get hot, huh.”

When I said that, Ayase-san, sitting across the table, nodded.

It was almost 8 o’clock now. Even with her short commute, Ayase-san wouldn’t make it to her first period on time. But today, that wasn’t an issue. Ayase-san didn’t have any lectures she wanted to take on Monday mornings, so she was free, and while I had a first period, it was canceled today because the professor was attending a conference. That’s why we were taking it easy this morning, basking in the morning light for the first time in a while.

“Want another cup of coffee?”

When Ayase-san asked, I replied, “Might as well.”

“Got it. Hand me your cup, I’ll wash it.”

“It’s fine as is, isn’t it?”

“Since we’re opening a new bag of beans, don’t you want it to taste good?”

I see. It seemed the beans had run out after our post-breakfast coffee, so she was opening a new bag.

“Then I’ll wash it. Saki, can you handle brewing the coffee?”

“Sure.”

As we were having this conversation, I heard the front door open along with a “I’m home.”

It was Akiko-okaasan’s voice. Ayase-san said, “Huh?” and reflexively glanced at the wall clock. I followed her gaze. It was about 8:05. A bit early for coming home.

Soon after, Akiko-okaasan appeared in the dining room, and Ayase-san and I said, “Welcome back.”

“Hi. I’m home. You two are taking it slow today, huh?”

“I’ve got afternoon classes. Yuuta-niisan’s morning class got canceled, right? Um, Mom, have you eaten?”

“Not yet.”

“Then I’ll prepare something. Sit down.”

“I’ll get the bath ready.”

Whether she ate before coming home depended on the day, but I’d heard from Ayase-san that she always took a bath before bed. I headed to the bathroom to check if there was water left in the tub before turning on the reheating switch.

The current bath routine in the Asamura household on weekdays went: Dad → me → Ayase-san → Akiko-okaasan (in the morning). With four people using it, we usually changed the water afterward. But depending on how dirty it got, we might drain it and refill it, so checking was necessary. By the way, Akiko-okaasan apparently took a shower before work to freshen up but didn’t use the tub.

Putting such trivial matters aside, when I returned to the dining room from the bathroom, Akiko-okaasan was unusually sitting at the table without changing, and Ayase-san was handing her a glass of barley tea from the fridge. She tilted the glass, drinking it down thirstily, then let out a big sigh.

“It’s pretty hot outside, huh?”

“Yeah, it already feels like summer. Oh, Yuuta-kun, thanks for getting the bath ready. You’re such a thoughtful son, it’s a big help.”

“It’s not a big deal…”

I tried to brush it off, but Akiko-okaasan looked between me and Ayase-san, saying happily, “You two are really growing up, it’s such a help.” I missed the chance to downplay it and just felt embarrassed.

Ayase-san said, as if it was obvious, “What’s the big deal? We’re 18 already.”

I nodded in agreement with her words.

“Is that so? Hey, Saki.”

“What?”

Prompted by Akiko-okaasan’s eyes, Ayase-san sat down across the table. Her gaze then turned to me, and I realized she was probably telling me to sit too. I took a seat next to Ayase-san.

Akiko-okaasan opened her mouth.

“Being helpful to your parents isn’t the only thing that makes you an adult.”

That’s what she said, but what did it mean?

“This is just my opinion, but—”

With that preface, Akiko-okaasan explained her reasoning.

“I think being an adult means being responsibly irresponsible.”

Responsibly irresponsible—what was that?

“A true adult sticks to what they want to do, no matter what their parents say or do. Because if you give in just because your parents told you to, whether you succeed or fail afterward, their shadow will always loom over it.”

Her words made me think. I mulled them over in my head a few times.

“So, you mean something like this? If you give up on what you want because you’re worried about your parents, you’re just abandoning your own responsibility and pushing it onto them.”

Akiko-okaasan nodded at my words, but Ayase-san didn’t seem to fully get what we were saying.

“But Mom and Taichi-otōsan don’t try to force anything on us, right?”

“That’s true. We don’t want to do that.”

“Then we’re not going to be at odds with you guys, right?”

That made sense.

“I don’t want to do anything that’d make Mom or Taichi-otōsan upset either.”

I got the logic. But Ayase-san was saying she didn’t understand why Akiko-okaasan would bring this up, especially making us sit down to talk about it.

While I was just thinking about the logic, Akiko-okaasan was already a step ahead.

“Saki, Yuuta-kun, can you decide your futures without worrying about me or Taichi-san?”

Her sudden question caught me off guard.

But Akiko-okaasan’s expression at that moment was more serious than I’d ever seen, and I sensed she was about to say something important.

“Uh…”

My hands started to sweat. I was getting nervous. Looking at the barley tea left in the sweaty glass in front of me, I suddenly felt thirsty.

Can I decide my future without worrying about Akiko-okaasan or Dad?

That’s what she was asking, but I couldn’t help wondering if this was a roundabout way of addressing me and Ayase-san’s relationship. I glanced at Ayase-san sitting beside me. She looked somewhat confused, tense even.

What if Dad or Akiko-okaasan—or both—opposed me and Ayase-san becoming a couple? What if they begged us to stop?

“I don’t want to make my parents sad… but that doesn’t mean I’ll do whatever they say. Leaving decisions we should make ourselves to our parents is like pushing our responsibilities onto them.”

“Yeah. I feel the same.”

Ayase-san said.

Akiko-okaasan let out a sigh.

“I want you both to prioritize your own lives the most. We can’t guarantee our judgment is always right…”

That was logically obvious, but whether a parent could say that to their kids was another matter. Parents probably wanted their kids to see them as infallible.

“So—”

With a tone that clearly shifted the topic, Akiko-okaasan started speaking. Ayase-san beside me gasped. For her to be this surprised, what could it be—?

“A little brother or sister… our family might grow.”

What? A brother or sister. Wait, did that mean…? A child between Dad and Akiko-okaasan?

My mind went blank for a moment at the sudden news.

But then it hit me.

She said it might grow, not that she was asking for permission.

They weren’t seeking our approval.

That made sense. If we opposed it and Dad or Akiko-okaasan gave up, it’d be like if they begged us to give up something, and we’d have to comply.

In reality, many parents gave up things for their kids’ sake. But that wouldn’t work here. If we knew they gave something up for us, it’d make us feel like we had to give up some of our own choices too.

I want you both to prioritize your own lives the most.

To make that convincing, they couldn’t ask for our permission here.

Even if the positions of parents and children weren’t truly equal.

I looked at Akiko-okaasan again. Her hands, clasped on the table, were tightly gripped, as if trying to crush her anxiety about whether her words would get through.

As a young child, I thought parents—like Akiko-okaasan—were infallible. But as I grew closer to adulthood, I realized parents were just humans like us, struggling, hesitating, and making the best decisions they could.

So I abandoned all the answers I’d been mulling over and simply said…

“I’m happy about the family growing. Saki probably feels the same.”

A small gasp escaped—whether from Akiko-okaasan or Ayase-san beside me, I couldn’t tell.

Akiko-okaasan unclasped her hands and said, “Can you promise not to hold back on what you want to do because of this?”

In other words, a baby might make life harder, but she and Dad would handle it, so we shouldn’t adjust our lives out of excessive concern. It was as if she was saying they’d rather not have another child than burden me or Ayase-san.

The positions of parents and children weren’t equal—or perhaps it was more accurate to say they didn’t feel equal. While telling us to live freely, they were thinking they didn’t want to force anything if we were against it. That, I realized, was what being a parent meant.

“It’s okay. I promise.”

“Yeah, I promise too,” Ayase-san added. “But if you’re ever in trouble, tell us. We’re family.”

I nodded beside her.

Akiko-okaasan let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you.”

Then, with a slightly shy smile, she continued, “I’d originally planned to wait until you both graduated university and started living on your own to quietly have another child.” With a small smile, she added that, considering her age and stamina, this year or next might be her limit.

I’d never faced the risks or struggles of pregnancy and childbirth, so all I could do was listen. Akiko-okaasan said she loved me and Ayase-san as a parent and was proud of how we’d grown. But alongside that, she genuinely wanted to have and raise a child with Taichi-san.

When she finished, she murmured, “Well, it’s not like you can just decide to have one and it happens…”

Her words made me realize something.

Ayase-san had said before that it might be a gamble that takes months to know the results and nearly a year to see the final outcome. Now that I knew the answer, I wondered why I hadn’t caught on back then.

“A little brother or sister. I’m looking forward to it,” I said as cheerfully as I could. If Akiko-okaasan was feeling anxious, that was the least I could do as her son. Of course, I’d help however I could. Being excited was my honest feeling.

When the conversation ended and Ayase-san and I stood to return to our rooms to prepare for school, Akiko-okaasan called out, “Oh, Saki, one sec.”

Figuring there were things only women talked about, I headed back to my room. While packing my textbooks into my bag, I thought about the changes that might come in a year or so. The family growing.

I looked around the room. Just two years ago, I’d thought this house was too big for just me and Dad. But now—a kid’s room would be good, right?

That’s what I was thinking.