The old lady’s name was Haruko.
“You really are a good man, mister.”
Kai couldn’t just leave her there, so he now found himself listening to her incessant praise as he pushed the carriage along in her stead. The black cat on board hardly stirred and remained still as they walked along.
The walk to Haruko’s house took thirty minutes from the park—though Kai alone could have made it in ten. Her home was a solitary unit made of wood, and sectioned off by a concrete fence. There was a path to the garden right beside the front door, and Miyo trotted along it until she was out of view once she noticed they were home.
“I’ll feel awful if you don’t at least help yourself to some tea before you go,” Haruko offered with a smile. Kai couldn’t figure out a way to decline.
Once inside, there was a staircase immediately in front of the entrance. The old woman showed him past it to the doorway on the left, which led to a traditional Japanese living room floored with tatami mats. She instructed him to sit down on a floor cushion and headed to the kitchen in the room over. The garden was right outside of the living room, and Kai could see Miyo curled up in a ball, sunbathing out on the veranda.
It was an idle, warm space in which time stood still. Until—tap tap tap, a set of footsteps rang down the staircase. Those footsteps—or rather, the girl they belonged to—didn’t seem to notice Kai’s presence as they approached.
“Grandmaaa? You’re finally back! Are you okay? Geez, this is why I told you that I’d walk Miyo in—” her voice tapered off into silence.
Kai locked eyes with her.
She probably had a room on the second floor, and had come down when she sensed her grandmother was home. Her hair was messier than what Kai had seen at school, and she was lightly dressed: she only had on a thin camisole and a light jacket sloppily sliding off her shoulder. Her eyes were wide open, and her shock was surprisingly easy to read.
Aina rubbed her eyes in an exaggerated way. Kai did the same.
...Oh god, this is reality, he thought. What now?
“Wha—” Her eyes grew sharp as she shouted, “What are you doing here?!”
“No, well, there’s a reason for—whoa, wait!”
“Wait for—oh,” she suddenly paused. Aina had been stomping toward him, but finally realized what she was wearing as she did so. “I can’t believe you!”
“But that wasn’t my fau—” he tried to protest.
“Shut up! In the first place, why are you even—”
“Aina! Quit that!” Haruko returned to scold her granddaughter. “Watch that mouth around our guest!”
“B-But, Grandma, this idiot—”
“Don’t go calling him an idiot,” she chided. “This nice young gentleman helped me find Miyo when she got lost, and went out of his way to bring her all the way home for me. We ought to be thanking him, not insulting him... Now, where’s your ‘I’m sorry’?”
“B-But, Grandma...”
“Aina.”
“...I... I’m... Sorry.”
It appeared that Aina couldn’t lift a finger against her grandmother, and her face was a complicated mish-mash of embarrassment and frustration. Kai could hardly believe she was the same person as the cool beauty at school.
“Good girl,” Haruko praised her.
“You! Don’t you dare leave!” Aina demanded with an outstretched pointer finger. Then, she turned to clamber back up to the second floor.
“Here you are, mister,” Haruko said encouragingly. “Drink up.”
“Th-Thank you.” Kai took a sip of the barley tea that had been placed in front of him to calm his restless heart. As the chilled tea made its way down his throat, he finally felt like he could face the situation he was in.
“Do you know Aina?” Haruko asked.
“...We’re in the same club,” he told her reluctantly.
“Is ’at so. Mister... do you know Aina?”
Do I know her? Kai could tell what the old woman meant from the look in her eyes. “...I do.”
After their encounter at the bookstore, he had looked her up online. Aina’s parents were famous enough to have their own Wikipedia pages: her father was an academy award-winning actor, and her mother was a top class model who toured overseas. Written alongside their accolades was information about their thoroughbred daughter, Yozakura Aina, who had worked under her real name as a child star. She had inherited her father’s acting prowess and her mother’s charisma to make for a level of genius that certainly went beyond riding her parents’ coattails. However, the article ended by stating that their talented daughter suddenly quit her line of work and disappeared from the entertainment industry.
“Children... don’t get to choose their parents.” Haruko’s voice was accompanied by the refreshing jingle of the wind chimes hung on the veranda. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her talk to one of her friends... It’s supposed to be so normal. Please, just be her friend.” Haruko spoke as if to entrust her fate to the wind, and her words echoed in Kai’s ears.