Chapter 10: Aunt Hakari
Alan had officially moved into his aunt, Towa Hakari’s house when he was six years old.
After the doctors gave up on his parents following the accident, she held him in the hospital corridor and cried.
Long, ragged sobs that shook them both.
Before that day, Alan had barely known his aunt. Once a year at most, New Year visits with polite bows and brief greetings. Nothing more.
Compared to her storm of grief, his own sorrow felt strangely muted.
Alan figured that most of her tears came from losing her younger brother. After all, if he himself had a younger sister who’d died together with her husband in an accident, he knew he would grieve for his sister, not the brother-in-law.
If the one who survived had been the brother-in-law instead, Alan was certain he would have blamed him for the rest of his life. As it was, the man had died alongside her, sparing Alan most of that imagined rage.
Yes. That was how he thought he would have felt.
Only later, during a memorial visit, did Aunt Hakari pull out old photo albums, pictures of his parents back in high school.
That night, he learned the truth.
His mother had been her best friend since junior high.
From middle school to high school, through university and into adulthood, Alan listened as Hakari wept her way through every memory.
Only then did he understand. Her love for his mother ran just as deep as her love for her own brother.
Perhaps that was why she raised him as if he were a living echo of the two people she’d lost.
Clothes, food, school trips, anything other kids had, she bought for him before he could even ask.
At the time, she had no children of her own. Uncle Towa Shin joked that the Towa bloodline was doomed.
Hakari chased him around the living room with a cushion for half an hour.
They’d known each other since high school, and their marriage was one of equals, Hakari’s temper ensured that.
She worried Alan might misunderstand the joke, but he wasn’t that fragile.
He knew exactly how much they loved him. And even then, he’d already decided he would take care of them when they grew old.
By the time Alan entered junior high, the couple finally had a child.
Hakari’s hovering eased somewhat, though she still cornered him for long, heartfelt talks.
The new baby tightened the household budget.
Government subsidies helped, but nowhere near enough.
Fortunately, Uncle Shin’s job was stable, until it wasn’t.
As always, disaster struck at the weakest seam.
During the recession, Shin slipped on the stairs, broke his leg, and was laid off.
Aunt Hakari took on part-time work. Once the cast came off, Uncle Shin searched for jobs day after day.
The crisis dragged on until Alan’s first year of middle school.
One evening, Alan handed Aunt Hakari a bank card.
Three million yen.
“No more night shifts,” he said calmly. “We don’t have to worry about money anymore.”
Her first reaction was sheer horror.
She rushed into the kitchen, grabbed a rolling pin, and demanded to know what crime he’d committed.
Tears streaming down her face, she threatened to call the police, crying out his parents’ names and blaming herself for failing them.
Alan pulled out his songwriter’s contract.
She didn’t even look at it.
“Don’t wave papers at me! You were tone-deaf at karaoke, now you’re telling me you’re a composer?”
“If you’d said you won a kendo tournament, I might’ve believed you. You’re hopeless, Alan. What if you can’t even get into college? I won’t let you ruin your life!”
“You’re still a minor. Turn the money in, confess, and you’ll be out in a year. I’ll wait for you.”
Aunt Hakari was already reaching for the phone to “do the right thing” when Alan, panicking, called Akari Hojo over.
It was Hojo’s first visit to the Towa household.
Alan knew instantly, his aunt adored her. Absolutely adored her. The kind of helpless delight that couldn’t be hidden.
Maybe it was because both her own children were boys. Hakari had always longed for a daughter, and Hojo was heartbreakingly beautiful.
After just two sentences of explanation—before any proof—his aunt believed everything.
She tucked the rolling pin back into her apron pocket, her face swinging from tragedy to sunshine, and dragged Hojo to the couch for tea.
At first, her questions were innocent. How they’d met. When Alan started writing songs.
But the moment she learned they were dating, her eyes lit up as if she’d won the lottery.
Her delight was almost terrifying.
“Really? You’re dating?”
“What on earth do you see in Alan? He’s useless at everything. When he was little, he even wet the—.”
“Aunt,” Alan cut in quickly.
Once Hakari confirmed that Hojo was every inch the gentle Yamato Nadeshiko she’d always dreamed of, she began probing about family plans and wedding dates.
Alan finally invented urgent recording studio obligations and whisked Hojo away.
From that day on, Aunt Hakari asked about their relationship every few days. She even hinted that if teenage hormones ever got out of control, there were precautions for a reason.
She even slipped condoms into his school bag.
Hojo had teased him mercilessly about it, her cheeks bright red.
Environment shapes belief.
Aunt Hakari and Uncle Shin had met in school and married after college.
Alan’s parents had done the same, childhood friends who stayed together through every hardship.
So in Hakari’s mind, the love you found as a teenager was the love you married.
To her, Hojo was already her daughter-in-law.
Alan knew that. Which was why, when he broke up with Hojo, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her.
In the breakup letter, he’d suggested they cool things off for a while, for his aunt’s sake.
Hojo, gentle and perceptive, would understand.
But now Hojo had gone to see Aunt Hakari herself.
Something she had never done before.
“Speak up! Did you break up with Hojo?!”
Aunt Hakari’s voice cracked through the phone.
Alan snapped back to the present, opened his mouth, and found nothing.
A dull, drum-like thud of defeat echoed inside him.
“…Yeah.”
Two seconds of silence.
“…Half a year ago?”
“…Yeah.”
“Something this important, and you didn’t tell me at all? Am I even your aunt anymore?!”
Because I knew you wouldn’t accept it.
“Answer me! Why? Was it some fox-spirit woman who tricked you? Seduced you? I warned you, they’re everywhere! Pretty faces that only want your money!”
“Look at yourself, plain, boring, only good at songwriting, kendo, and making money. What else do you have besides that?”
“I—”
Alan honestly couldn’t tell whether she was insulting him or complimenting him.
“Don’t ‘I’ me! Do you think any woman besides Hojo could ever love you for real?”
“Take leave and come home. Now. Explain this to my face.”
“No excuses. This is more important than anything, more important than all your money!”
Click.
The line went dead before Alan could reply.
He stared at his phone, then rubbed his temples.
“What’s wrong?”
Nozomi Sakura had drifted over. Alan turned and met her captivating gaze.
Fox spirit? …Huh.
He shook his head. “Nothing. Done eating?”
“Yeah.”
Nozomi nodded. She’d covertly watched his call while finishing her breakfast.
Seeing his brows knit together had been oddly satisfying.
The jerk had been bullying her for days. Nice to know someone could still rattle him.
Curiosity flickered, who on earth had called?
But she hadn’t mapped out Alan’s temperament yet, and had no desire to pry and provoke him.
Whatever she needed to know, she’d learn in time.
The “million-yen job” he’d mentioned was tempting, but there was no rush.
Besides, he clearly had some ulterior motive where she was concerned.
When she finally caught him red-handed, she’d make him regret everything.
With that pleasant thought, Nozomi put on the perfect, understanding-girlfriend smile.
“Something urgent?”
“Not really…”
“Alright. Then let’s pick this up later. Call or text whenever you need me. I’m free all day, I’ll come running.”
Alan’s mind wasn’t on her. Whatever crisis had landed could wait another day or two.
He gave a short nod.
“Right. I’ve got things to deal with today. We’ll talk next time.”
“Then I’ll get out of your head. See you~”
Nozomi sent him one last devoted look, then turned and walked out.
Alan watched her leave, clicked his tongue, and glanced at the half-eaten rice balls.
His appetite was gone.
He let out a heavy sigh, covering his face with one hand as he mulled over the situation.
Shit…
He opened his contacts, about to call Akari Hojo.
When a new message flashed onto the screen.
“Alan?”
“Have you been eating properly?”
It was from Akari Hojo.
