Chapter 1:
Childhood
AT AGE SEVEN, I understood what “divorce” was, and when my parents asked me to choose one of them to live with, I didn’t throw a fit.
My father was a celebrated researcher in his field while my mother came from a wealthy family. No matter who I chose, I would have all the financial security I needed, so I was free to let my heart decide—and ultimately, I chose my mother. Not because I loved her more than my father, but because I was afraid I would get in the way of his work if I was around.
The root cause of their divorce was poor communication. My father spent many a night at his laboratory, and whenever he came home, he would tell my mother all about his work. Naturally, to her, it was total gibberish. Alas, my father was the kind of man who automatically assumed everyone else understood all the same things he did, and I often watched my mother struggle in conversations with him while he remained blissfully unaware.
Therefore, based on their personalities, I decided Mom was the better choice. Well, no—I’m sure my thought process at age seven wasn’t quite that clear-cut, but you get the point.
Ironically, the divorce dramatically improved my parents’ relationship, and they cheerfully traded me back and forth at least once a month. Obviously, they had to have loved each other very much considering they got married and had a child in the first place, but it was clear this degree of separation was healthy for them. Personally, I was just happy that they stopped fighting and relieved that it wasn’t because of me.
What I remember most strongly from my childhood was that just a few months after my mother and I moved in with her parents, my father bought me an airsoft gun.
Mom and I went to the park one sunny weekend to meet up with him. I thought I would really miss him now that I only saw him once a month instead of every day, but his work hours were so irregular that I hadn’t really spent that much quality time with him prior to the divorce. If anything, now that we were going on scheduled monthly outings as a family, he was arguably more present in my life than ever.
“Koyomi!”
My father said my name for the first time in a month. How often had he called for me back when we all lived together? I couldn’t really remember. But considering I now felt so happy hearing the sound of my own name, perhaps this new relationship wasn’t so bad.
“Is there anything on your wish list, kiddo?”
My eighth birthday was just a couple of days prior to that visit, so he probably wanted to get me a belated present. Before the divorce, Mom was the only one who ever bought me stuff, so the prospect of a gift from Dad delighted me. And as it happened, there was something I was hoping to get…
“An airsoft gun!”
“An airsoft gun? What for?”
“Everybody at school has one except me!”
“Huh. Where do they even sell them…?”
Luckily, I knew the answer to that! One of my classmates bragged to me that his parents had bought one for him in the toy aisle of a certain department store. I dragged Mom and Dad to the store and found the shelf with a few airsoft guns still in stock. I didn’t know anything about the different types—I just wanted to have a cool toy like everyone else had. I grabbed one blindly off the shelf and held it out to Dad.
“This one!”
“Oh, it’s cheaper than I thought. Not even 2,000 yen. Okay then…”
But just then, he froze. I looked at him. He was squinting down at the box.
“This says it’s for ages ten and up.”
Uh-oh. I had only just turned eight. But it went without saying that all my bragging classmates were my same age or younger—clearly, a lot of parents were really cool and didn’t fret about the small stuff, right? Was my dad that kind of dad? Sure, Mom was the fretting type, but this was a gift from Dad, so her opinion didn’t matter this time! (Or so I thought. Ah, sweet childhood innocence.)
Either way, if he tried to tell me I was too young for an airsoft gun, I was planning to persuade him by pointing out that all my classmates had one, and that being eight was really no different from being ten, and I’d promise to always be careful not to hurt anyone! I had so much prepared to say…but in the end, I was worried for nothing.
“Eh, eight’s not that different from ten.”
Internally, I did a fist pump. My dad was a cool dad! Unsurprisingly, my mom frowned at this, but she didn’t protest—looking back, they’d only just gotten divorced, so she must’ve been feeling a little guilty towards me at the time. And with that, I got my mitts on an airsoft gun meant for older kids.
Back at the park, I played with my new toy for a bit. After a while, I started feeling hungry, so we had lunch. We all agreed to meet up again a month, and then we parted ways with Dad and headed home.
Back at the house, our big golden retriever jumped up to greet me, tail wagging behind her.
“We’re home, Yuno!” I gave her a scritch behind the ears, her favorite.
My grandpa first adopted Yuno right after I was born, and before the divorce, I’d play with her whenever we visited. Now that we lived together, I got to play with her every day! That was definitely one highlight of living here with my grandparents.
“My dad bought me this! Isn’t it cool?” I bragged as I showed her the airsoft gun. The dog cocked her head at it. If I pointed it at her, could she learn to play dead like I’d seen some other dogs do on TV?
“Don’t you dare point it at Yuno,” Mom scolded me lightly, as if she read my mind.
“Okaaay…”
On the way home, she warned me a thousand times not to point it at people. I get it already! Jeez! Then, after giving Yuno lots of pets, I went into the living room to say hi to my grandpa.
“We’re home, Grandpa!”
“Oh, welcome home, Koyomi. Did you have fun?” he asked with a warm smile. He was a man of few words, but overall he was a nice guy who always gave me candy.
“Sure did! Can I have a piece of candy?”
“You had one earlier! One per day, remember?”
That said, I did think he was stingy for refusing to give me more than one per day. He always had my favorite candy, but he kept it squirreled away in a tall drawer that he knew I couldn’t reach on my own, all because “too much candy is bad for you.”
Ah, but if only I thought a little harder about his personality before I showed him the airsoft gun.
“Fine, whatever. Anyway, check this out!”
“Oh, an airsoft gun! Little boys just love those things, don’t they? Why, when I was your age…” A moment later, the serene smile vanished from his face and his eyes hardened. “Let me see that, Koyomi.”
“Huh? Okay…” He sounded uncommonly grave, so I obediently handed over the box with the gun inside.
“This says ‘ages ten and up.’ You’re too young,” he said firmly, pointing at the label. He then rose to his feet and left the room. When he came back, the airsoft gun was nowhere to be found.
He…threw it away?
I sobbed and wailed, and from that day forward, I hated my grandpa, and I was convinced that he must’ve hated me too. The more Grandma consoled me, the more attached I grew to her, and soon I stopped talking to Grandpa much at all.
I didn’t understand how much he actually loved me until two years later when he passed away…leaving behind a mystery for me to solve.