Fago had already prepared lunch by the time I got back. While I felt guilty about imposing on her, I ate gratefully along with the others. Afterward, Nito and Fago got back to work, focused on adjusting the former’s boots, and Charolles switched out with me, heading off to the temple library. Therefore, I was stuck sitting on the sofa with too much time on my hands.
The tea that followed the meal had been delicious, but the teapot didn’t make a great conversationalist. Boredom soon had my gaze wandering, bouncing from item to item in the room. Someone had hammered boards into the wall to make a set of three shelves. There were several framed photos displayed neatly on the shelves, but one of them had been turned facedown. I couldn’t help but be curious. I stood up without really thinking about it and picked up the photo. It showed a young woman and a boy, both dressed up, and the boy looked a bit tense. Guess he’s Fago’s son?
I looked through the other pictures, but oddly, he wasn’t in any of them. There was Fago, someone that was probably her husband, and a girl that must have been her daughter. The girl was in several pictures—she went from a small child to an adult, and then showed up alongside a young man and new children—but there was only that one picture of the boy.
“He’s dead.”
I rushed to put back the picture in my hand, but I knew it was already too late. Still holding it, I turned around awkwardly to find Fago coming through the doorway with Nito in tow. We stood in silence for a moment.
“Sorry,” I finally said. “I couldn’t help myself.”
“Going through facedown photos is hardly the best look.”
I couldn’t refute that and just softly returned the photo to the shelf.
“Was it an illness?”
“No, we killed him.”
I definitely hadn’t seen that coming. I stared at her in shock, with Nito mirroring my reaction. Fago wasn’t smiling like she’d just told a joke. Her expression was gravely serious.
“Raising children is hard. However much we care for them, we parents are still only human,” she told us, pouring a cup from the teapot.
I couldn’t exactly parse her abstract way of wording it, and Nito probably couldn’t either. Fago’s mood didn’t seem to have worsened, but intruding on such a personal topic was definitely a delicate problem. I wasn’t sure whether to actually ask any further, so I just stayed silent.
“Do you...regret it?” Nito asked.
“Regret?” Fago repeated, closing her eyes and bringing the cup to her lips. “You’re rather insensitive too. What good would that do? Regrets and repentant prayers wouldn’t bring my child back.”
She inclined the cup, taking a sip, then lowered it again and let out a shallow breath that felt a lot heavier than it sounded.
Nito opened her mouth again and I shook my head in warning. Family matters were about as private and personal as issues got. Digging at that kind of stuff out of pure curiosity was one of the rudest things I could think of. Whatever the circumstances were, only the actual people involved could understand or resolve them.
Nito’s lips twisted as she gave a jerky nod in response. She was wearing her normal boots, so I assumed they were done adjusting the fit for the moment. Things weren’t exactly awkward, and Fago didn’t seem angry either. I just felt too out of place to stay in the same room as her, so I spoke up.
“We should head off, then.”
“Right. Come back tomorrow. I want to hear how they fit.”
We left Fago’s house and climbed aboard the Kettle without speaking. I drove off, moving down the hill at a crawl. I would need to turn the Kettle around to head back up to the temple, and the roads around her house were too narrow for that, so I needed to find somewhere more open.
“I wonder what happened,” Nito said eventually.
She was compassionate and earnest, so she had a tendency to treat other people’s problems as her own.
“Whatever happened, I don’t think we should ask about it.”
“But she said she killed her son.”
“It’s a family matter.”
Nito fell silent, but I could feel her gaze on me. We came upon a house with a big front yard, so I drove into it and backed out onto the road again.
“Keisuke,” she asked eventually, “aren’t you curious?”
“Of course I am. But asking won’t do any good, even if she did kill him.”
We climbed the road back toward the temple, the Kettle feeling much heavier as we went past Fago’s house.
“Doesn’t speaking to someone about a burden like this make it easier to bear than holding onto it alone?” she asked.
“I think so, yes. It’s probably easier that way,” I answered, before adding, “But it isn’t our place to ask after it or decide who that confidant should be.”
“That...sounds like a very detached way of looking at things.”
“Well, yeah, asking about difficult things might be kind in a certain way, but giving solace like that’s the role of the gods, and we’re far from gods. Actually, I guess here it’d be the saint.”
Fago had prayed to that saint’s statue the day before. I didn’t know for sure what had been in her prayers. Maybe they’d been about her son, maybe not, but it seemed likely that she would pray about that type of thing.
Nito didn’t reply, so I spared a glance at her. She sat in silence with a slight pout on her face. Her own kindness had probably left her feeling unhappy. Nito was too earnest to abandon her curiosity and urge to meddle. She was the sort of girl that always wanted to understand people’s worries, to ease their pain.
“Are your boots finished?” I asked.
Nito didn’t complain about my blatantly changing the subject. She just had a slightly sulky tone to her voice as she answered me. “She added cushions that match the shape of my feet. If they don’t work, she’ll adjust them tomorrow.”
“And how do they feel now?”
“They’re rather agreeable.”
I couldn’t help but snort slightly at her unique way of speaking. Soon, we finished climbing the hill and drove into the space in front of the temple. I stopped the Kettle next to the entrance and checked my watch. It was already nearly evening, so I decided that we wouldn’t be going out again that day and extinguished the boiler before hopping out. Nito had left the Kettle before me and waited by the entrance.
“Did you finish the delivery?” she asked when I walked up to her.
“Ah.”
I put my hand to my chest and found the receipt from the guinea pig in my breast pocket. I’d completely forgotten.
“I’ll go finish it now.”
I turned around and saw the sun starting to set before my eyes. It was moving slowly—the evenings were still long and summery—and I expected I’d have the time to deliver the receipt and be back before it had fully set. Having to make another round trip in the car was kind of annoying, though, and I’d just put the boiler out, which made it all the more irritating. My emotions must have shown on my face, because Nito was looking up at me with a smile.
“You could do it tomorrow instead.”
I thought it over for a moment. It wasn’t a particularly urgent errand, so it likely wouldn’t be an issue. Fago would probably head up to the temple to clean in the morning, and we had to go back to get Nito’s boots checked anyway. It would literally be no issue to do it tomorrow; I’d just need to accept going to sleep with a minor bit of regret.
Just as I was about to say so, though, I had a thought.
“This is a job for a pro,” I declared.
Nito gave me an odd look as we entered the temple. I headed for the library with her close behind. As we got there, Charolles had just closed a book and was standing up.
“I have a job for you,” I told her.
It was only at times like this that Charolles ever seemed surprised. She looked at me for a moment, puzzled, but her face soon smoothed back into her usual blank expression.
“Well, that came out of nowhere.”
“It’s the perfect job for a courier. But maybe it’s a bit too difficult for you?”
I added just a little challenge to my words. She put the book in her hands back on the shelf and faced me again.
“What kind of job?”
I pulled the receipt out of my pocket and proffered it.
“I want you to take this to Fago.”
She was silent for a beat.
“What is this, a kid’s errand?”
Well, yes, pretty much.
“That’s not all. This is the more important bit: once you’re done, you need to head to the theater on Mercian Street. It’s the biggest building on the street, so you’ll see it right away. There’s someone called Paula there. Tell her that I sent you, and then you’ll understand.”
Charolles frowned doubtfully.
“I don’t see the point.”
“What matters is whether or not you can do it.”
“Fine. What’s the pay?”
“Dinner tonight. Along with a shock the likes of which you’ve never before experienced.”
“I hate people that are all talk,” she warned me.
I just smiled back at her. She looked me over, evaluating me, but not for very long. In the time it took to blink, she’d taken the receipt.
“I’m looking forward to it. Just a little though.”
I kept my laughter under control as I watched her leave. It was just a little joke. People needed fun like this in their lives. While I was musing, Nito pulled at my sleeve.
“What’s this ‘shock the likes of which you’ve never before experienced’? I’m curious too.”
Her eyes were sparkling with said curiosity, but I hesitated to explain.
“You’re a little young,” I told her eventually.
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”
“It’s just sorta too intense, or something.”
That didn’t quell her interest, though, and after her wheedling wore me down, I ended up promising to take her there the next day.