Chapter 8

6 A Woman Who Looks Like Me? It was Friday afternoon, the beginning of my first weekend as a junior high schooler, and I was excited. “Today, we’re having simmered Hamburg steak and daikon miso soup! ” I chimed to myself while stirring the pot. At first, I’d been an awful cook, but I had been improving little by little with Ichika’s advice. The daikon was tender, and the dashi had melted in. All that was left was to add the miso… “Cooking’s kinda fun once you get the hang of it,” I murmured to myself just as Nitori popped up from behind me and peeked into the pot. “That looks seriously yummy! Restaurant-quality miso soup. Teach me how to make it, too. What’s the next step? Anything I can help with?” “Next is… Wait, huh? Nitori, weren’t you working on the baked potatoes…?” Nitori had searched up a baked-potato recipe online before we started on dinner and had gotten all fired up about it. “These are super trendy! I wanna make ’em!” Had she already finished? Right then, I smelled something burning. “N-Nitori!” Ichika quickly shut off the oven the moment she noticed. “Aaah!” Nitori screamed, and the instant she opened the oven… Fwoom! …Yikes, black smoke came pouring out! “Cough, cough… Ugh, they’re burned to a crisp.” Nitori peeked into the oven, and her shoulders slumped. Maybe cooking wasn’t her forte. She couldn’t sit around for too long without getting antsy. “Phew… I’m glad we didn’t have a fire on our hands.” Ichika sighed. I’d have to be more careful, too… I heard a thunk and looked next to me to see Shizuki setting out bowls for the soup. “Thanks, Shizuki.” “…No problem.” She quickly turned away and busied herself with the rice bowls next. She probably still felt shy. But she was helping out, so I was sure we’d grow closer soon enough. Meanwhile, Nitori could hardly wait. “I’m starving. Let’s eat!” I poured the miso soup into bowls, dished out the rice, and lined them up with chopsticks and teacups. I was just about to take my seat, but… “Ha-ha-ha, slow down, Mifu! You mixed up everyone’s chopsticks and rice bowls.” Nitori looked at the table and burst out laughing. “Ichika’s rice bowl is here. The red one is mine. You swapped your and Ichika’s chopsticks, and my and Shizu’s teacups are switched, too.” “Oh! Sorry…” Now I’d done it. I hurried to set things right. “It slipped my mind; everyone had the same color rice bowls back at Kanro.” “I get it. Facilities don’t really assign the kids their own bowls, huh.” “Exactly. It’s just a habit,” I answered Ichika, when something hit me. “Huh? Ichika, you’ve been at a facility before?” “Oh…” Ichika stopped helping me, clammed up for a bit, then continued after a short pause, “Yeah. I started out in a children’s home. Then I moved to my foster family.” “That makes sense.” I returned to my seat, nodding. Nitori was adopted, so living with a family was normal for her. That’s why the idea of having your own tableware was so matter-of-fact to her. Did…Ichika have her own chopsticks and rice bowl at her foster family’s house? We were quadruplets, but we’d grown up separately. We might look the same, but we weren’t the same inside… That’s just how it was. A mix of joy and sadness passed through me. Anyway, it was dinnertime. I couldn’t waste all the good food we had! I took in the meal in front of me. The simmered Hamburg steak was topped with a thick demi-glace sauce and looked really delicious. Steam wafted gently from the piping hot white rice and daikon miso soup. I found myself gulping because my mouth was watering. “Let’s dig in! But first…” Snap! I took a picture on my phone and sent it. We’d completed this week’s independence mission: cook and eat dinner together. I gave a hearty, confident laugh. Then… Ding! …a text came through. “Oh…!” It was from Minato. We’d exchanged contact info, but it was the first time he’d messaged me, so it made my heart pound… “Sorry for the sudden message. I figured I should let you know, Mifu. I stayed after school a little late today, and a strange woman came up to me on my way home and asked if I knew the quadruplets. I said I didn’t, just to be safe, but she kind of looked like you…” “Huh?” A woman who looked like me? A restless breeze, like the air before a summer storm, tore through my heart. My heart thumped steadily, gradually getting quicker. I hadn’t noticed how tightly I was gripping my phone. “What’s wrong, Mifu?” “Food’s gonna get cold.” “R-right…” With both my big sisters pressuring me, I put my phone on the corner of the table and pretended nothing was wrong. The Hamburg steak and miso soup were delicious. My sisters and I all had seconds—even Shizuki, who was normally a light eater. But even as I smiled and mentioned how good dinner was, Minato’s message weighed on my mind. After we finished, I grabbed my phone and hurried back to my room, immediately opening my texts. “Could you tell me more about what happened?” It was a short message, but in my panic, I made typo after typo before I corrected them all. I finally managed to hit send. There was no way…right? Ba-dump, ba-dump… My heart was pounding so loudly, I could hear it in my ears. My whole body was starting to feel heavy with heat. Ding! He answered me right away. I opened the message immediately. “She showed up in a big, black car, wearing flashy, expensive-looking clothes… Not your average person. She kind of stood out. Sorry if I worried you. I was just a little concerned.” I closed my eyes, and phew—a big sigh of relief escaped me. A big car, flashy clothes… It definitely wasn’t her. I sat against the wall, the tension draining from my limbs. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t our mom. Our mom must not have been able to afford to raise four kids, and that was why she’d left us at the facility. A rich woman couldn’t be her. I felt kind of pathetic getting that worked up at the possibility. “There’s probably tons of people who look like her. It’s not Mom,” I muttered to calm myself down and flopped onto the mat. Then I heard a voice call from downstairs. “Hey…! What the heck is this…?” It sounded like Ichika. What happened? I was curious, so I left my room and headed downstairs.