But with some time, love, and care, things started to change. My calls of his name, the touch of my hand as I petted him, the consistent parade of meals, and the gradual elongation of his walks slowly eroded his apprehension. The sight of Koro’s tail beginning to wag in my presence was a small victory, a reward reserved only for me—at least initially. Neither my brother nor my mother, nor even Dad—the one who brought him home from the shelter in the first place—was privy to his warmth. His partiality, of course, just made me love him all the more. Recently, he’d started to wag around my mother too, but that was fine by me. I would always be the first he’d opened up to.
I looked down at him. His tail, which had once hung low, swaying despondently from side to side, was coiled tightly above his butt, bobbing gently in rhythm with his steps. It was such a simple sight, yet it made my heart swell with affection. I wouldn’t have been exaggerating if I said that his tail could make me forgive him for anything—even, say, if he were to lead me on an almost two-hour detour the night before midterms. Ugh, I really gotta get home and study.
Over time, not only his tail perked up, but also his attitude toward strangers, as I had discovered that night. Witnessing him warm up to Ayako and Towada—and even let them pet him—was quite the surprise. I wasn’t exactly complaining. That he was settling in and mellowing out was certainly a positive step forward. As I mulled over that unexpected development, I realized we’d reached home.
“We’re back,” I announced, stepping inside.
“Welcome back, Haruka,” came my mother’s reply. She was already home from her part-time job and busily preparing dinner in the kitchen.
Curious, I peeked at what she was making. “Yes, my favorite! Hamburg steak!” I adored my mother’s Hamburg steaks—they were delightfully round and braised more than fried. I hope she’s stuffed quail eggs in them!
“You two were out for quite some time,” she noted.
“Yeah, Koro seemed to enjoy being out, so we ended up wandering all over the place.”
“Really? Maybe it’s the weather. It’s more comfortable to walk now than in the summer.” She smiled, shaping more of the ground meat into balls. “But remember, that also means the days are getting shorter. Did you check the flashlight battery in your walk bag?”
My “walk bag,” a small pouch that held a personal safety alarm and a mini flashlight, always accompanied me on walks with Koro. Though I balked at the idea at first—seriously, in our peaceful neighborhood?—Mom wouldn’t let me leave the house without it.
“Yeah, it’s still good,” I replied. “Do you need any help?”
“Let’s see… Maybe you could take these veggies and—” she began, only to cut herself off. “Haruka, didn’t you say you had midterms coming up?”
My eyes widened. “Whoops, totally forgot I had homework. Gotta go, bye!” Swiftly spinning around, I dashed for the stairs.
“Haruka!”
I bounded up to the second floor, dodging my mother’s chiding about prioritizing study, and threw myself into my room. I took out the business card Ayako had given me. “I should let her know I made it back okay,” I mumbled to myself, reaching for the tablet on my desk and firing up the mail app. Ayako had neatly jotted her personal details on the back of the card: her address, phone number, and email.
My thoughts whirled as my fingers tapped her email into the recipient field. In parting, Ayako had extended an invitation back to her house. She’d expressed concern for my injuries and seemed keen to have me visit again. I’d accepted, not due to her insistence but because I found myself genuinely, oddly, wanting to return—to see that storybook house again. And besides teachers and relatives, I’d never talked to an adult for so long before. The encounter hadn’t felt like a first meeting; she was inexplicably familiar.
I glanced at the front of the card. “Endou’s Cooking Salon,” it proclaimed in bold print, and beneath, in a smaller typeface, “Ayako Towada: Chief Assistant.” Endou’s Cooking Salon… The name rang a bell. It was a studio-like space that hosted cooking classes two train stations away. Chief Assistant, huh? An image of Ayako clad in an apron and a chef’s bandana floated across my mind. Yep, I can totally see that.
“Chief Assistant is just a fancy way of saying jack-of-all-trades. I help with anything and everything. I’m usually home in the evenings, and all day Tuesdays and weekends. Feel free to drop by any time.” I could recall what she’d said with startling ease. Her tone had been so casual, so bright—unlike a certain tight-lipped, deadpan nephew of hers. Not that I thought he was a drag or uncommunicative, he was just…different…in a way that was hard to explain. Perhaps “reserved” was the best word to describe him. At least, he wasn’t rowdy like some of the other boys at school. Or was that my perception only because we’d just met? In any case, he seemed mature for his age, in contrast to me. Imagine not being paralyzed by every little minor hiccup that comes your way. Must be nice.
After drafting, deleting, and redrafting my message multiple times, I finally hit send on a rather conservative version: “Hi, it’s Haruka. I made it home safe. Thank you for everything today.”
My social awkwardness didn’t stop at verbal communication; it extended to the written form as well. Free writing assignments in particular were my worst nightmare. I’d rather slog through thirty pages of practice problems than one page of free writing. “I bet someone like Towada could churn out a paragraph in his sleep, easy,” I muttered. With a hefty sigh, I pulled my textbooks from my schoolbag.
Just as I flipped open my notebook to review the material for the upcoming test, my tablet pinged with an incoming message. Ayako had replied.
“Glad to hear you made it back safe. I’m sure your parents must’ve been worried sick! Look forward to seeing you soon, you’re always welcome! P.S. Would love any updates about how Takumi’s doing at school.”
A faint smirk tugged at my lips. “Sounds like something she’d say.” I could hear the words resonating in my ears. She’s curious about her nephew’s school life, huh? Before I left her house, Ayako had confided in me that her nephew rarely talked about school with her.
I’d love to help, but… I was in class 1 and Towada was in class 5. Not only were we not in the same homeroom, because our classes weren’t adjacent, we also didn’t share any joint activities. The only time I’d likely see him was in the halls in passing, so unfortunately, the probability of me gaining any additional insight was slim.
“Maybe Mao or Honomi have some info,” I mused aloud of my two best friends. I quickly dismissed the idea. Mao was a student-athlete who had nothing but track and field on the brain, and Honomi, well… Honomi was head over heels for an upperclassman in her club. I was almost certain that if I dared mention the name of a boy to her, she’d get the wrong idea and think I’d also caught the love bug. Better not.
Closing the mail app, I pressed the map icon and entered Ayako’s address. “Wow, these roads really are a mess,” I mumbled as I tracked the winding path from the civic center to her house. There was a forested area opposite her lot that formed a border between our city and the neighboring one—that had to be the woodland I’d seen. I was retracing my steps, revisiting the intersection where we’d collided, when Mom’s voice floated from downstairs—dinner was ready.
I glanced at my textbooks, yet untouched. After dinner, you got this, yep.