From Friday night to Sunday morning, I slept like a log. Despite that, whenever I woke up, my arms and eyes still searched for Ushio of their own accord. In public, I could use my persona to keep a lid on my feelings; but alone in my condo, I would get so utterly depressed and lonely that I’d turn on all the lights and crank up the heater, all the while telling myself not to give up.
I could vaguely remember the return address written on the letter from Ushio’s “grandma” (unconfirmed). At the very least, I remembered the name of her district and that her apartment complex had some kind of French-sounding name, like Ratatouille or Mille-feuille. I googled a combination of those keywords until I finally struck upon Sofille, a luxury retirement community offering assisted living services. That had to be it. I didn’t know the woman’s phone or apartment number, but maybe I could find out if I went there. It was a philosophy I learned through field reporting: if you wanna get somewhere, you gotta take that first step.
Seeing as I’d be dropping in unannounced, my next thought was to bring a gift, but I didn’t know a thing about her likes or dislikes. Plus, as an elderly woman, she probably had certain health restrictions… I didn’t have a grandma of my own to ask, so I decided to send a LINE message to the next best thing: my own mother, fresh out of the hospital.
“What’s on your wish list right now?”
“Hawaii.”
She was not helpful.
I put on a nice suit and stopped by the TV station. There, I filled out an order form to acquire some “promotional materials” in the form of Asazou mascot merch: a hand towel, a set of ballpoint pens in three different colors, and a plastic file folder. These items weren’t meant for commercial sale, would help prove my identity, and they were probably a safer bet than bringing something edible.
Two train rides later, I arrived at the community in question. The first thing I did was walk around to the back and check the cluster mailbox for nameplates. Thankfully, I found the name Tsuzuki listed under apartment 705. With that information in hand, I walked back to the intercom system at the entrance and punched in 705.
“Hello?”
A soft, feminine voice answered. Likewise, I readied my “approachable, non-threatening male” voice.
“I’m so sorry to bother you. My name is Kunieda… I’m acquainted with your grandson, Tsuzuki Ushio-san, and I was wondering—”
“What?!” Before I could even finish, her voice raised sharply. “By any chance, are you that newscaster from TV?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“My goodness, I see you on all the time! Oh, err, please do come on up!”
And so I easily gained access inside, to the elevators. When I arrived at the seventh floor, she was waiting for me with the door open. Being famous had its perks sometimes.
“Nice to meet you.”
She ignored my standard greeting and purred, “You’re even more handsome in person.”
Somehow, I had already maxed out her affection meter. I was used to this with strangers, of course, but with Ushio’s own grandmother, it was a little embarrassing.
With the bog-standard “pardon the mess,” Tsuzuki Sayoko let me into her one-bedroom apartment—but the place was so lightly furnished, a mess didn’t seem physically possible. The entryway was adorned with trophies and plaques, possibly awards Ushio received for his animation work.
When I handed her the mascot merch, she said, “My, how adorable!” and kindly poured me some tea. She really did seem like a normal, sweet-and-tidy little grandma.
“My grandson did some work for your station, didn’t he?” she asked.
“Yes, that’s how we first met.”
“Oh, that Ushio—he never even hinted that he was friends with you! Didn’t want me asking for your autograph, I suppose.”
“About him, actually…” To add a pause to the conversation, I took a single sip of tea before returning the cup to its saucer. “Ever since he moved back to his parents’ house last week, I haven’t been able to get in touch with him. Has he spoken with you at all?”
“He hasn’t, no…” Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry you haven’t been able to reach him. Would you like me to call their landline?”
Evidently, Grandma Tsuzuki was still in contact with the Wakamiya estate. I hadn’t expected that. “No, that’s all right. I’m sure the issue will resolve itself eventually. I’ve come to you because I realized I hardly know anything about him, and if it’s not too much to ask, I’d like you to tell me what you can.”
Another hard-and-fast rule of field reporting: keep the lies to a minimum.
“Ah…” She gazed into the distance for a moment, then smiled stiffly. “I understand completely. He can be so stubborn about the strangest things…but you do know a little already, yes?”
“I know that he lost his mother at an early age, that he and his father don’t get along. And that he cut ties with the family at fifteen years old.”
“Yes. But he doesn’t like to talk about his time living at the Wakamiya house, not even with me. Honestly, we’re not very close, the two of us. I generally kept my nose out of my daughter’s business, so I’d say I usually only saw him about once a year.”
“What about after he left the Wakamiya house?” I asked.
“I was shocked, I tell you. But he begged me on his knees to let him stay, swore up and down he wouldn’t be any trouble… What else was I supposed to say? I just lost my daughter, and my husband the year before that, and I was still raw. Looking back, though, I suspect he was worried I might drag him back there. It would explain why he spent all his time at school and work and generally avoided me. But he paid rent every month and never asked for anything except my signature on any papers that called for a parent or guardian… I’ll bet he’s been aloof with you too, hasn’t he?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered with a smile.
“I knew it!”
Once she had warmed to me, I decided to take another step. “Could I ask a…slightly personal question?” This particular skill of cleverly steering the conversation wasn’t something I could assign purely to work, and as such, I didn’t enjoy it. Regardless, I shooed my guilt back into the shadows. “About Tsuzuki-san’s father…”
“Ah, Homare-san, yes. It seems he’s really made a name for himself over the years.”
According to Ushio, his mother lost her life while supporting his father’s political campaign. Naturally, I suspected that his mother’s mother might have some complicated feelings toward the man. Instead, she spoke casually and rather candidly.
“When they say power changes people, they sure aren’t kidding,” she said. “He used to be so laid-back!”
“He did…?” I couldn’t picture that at all.
“Homare-san was the younger of two sons. The elder was a competent young man, and of course, he was originally going to carry on the family legacy. He even served as his father’s secretary. Meanwhile, Homare-san was off working at a design company or some such, always drawing things in his spare time. Not to be rude, but his life was rather carefree. I mean, he never would have been allowed to marry an ordinary girl otherwise. Financially, our two families were about this far apart!” She gestured with both hands to indicate opposite sides of the class divide. “I imagine Wakamiya Senior wasn’t too interested in his second son or any of us in-laws. But that was just fine for Homare-san; he left home to live with my daughter, and Ushio was born soon after… But then, when Ushio would have been about two years old, Homare-san’s parents and older brother were all tragically lost in a car accident.”