Farewell
"Come, come—sit down first. Let me analyze this for you."
Keiko was reluctantly pulled onto the sofa by Takuto. She folded her arms and snapped, her face full of frustration.
"Then speak."
"Calm down first. Look—hasn't Shiro basically been ostracized by the whole Village?"
"So that's exactly why we should help him even more!"
"But Shiro doesn't want us to," Takuto said patiently. "He doesn't want this to drag us down either. Otherwise, he wouldn't have come back home at all this time."
"It's fine for now. The neighbors are helping cover for us. But if you go over too often, people will notice—and that's the last thing Shiro wants."
"But I'm worried about him," Keiko insisted, her voice starting to shake. "How do you expect him to live alone like this? What if he can't buy food? Or daily necessities? What if he—"
Her voice broke, and tears began to fall.
"He's still just a child."
Takuto pulled her into his arms, gently patting her back.
"Alright, alright. I know you're worried," he said softly. "But Shiro is a ninja. These things won't stop him. You don't need to worry so much."
"Think about it this way: if our relationship with Shiro gets exposed, then everything you're worried about for him will become our reality instead."
"And Shiro still has missions. If he has to worry about us while carrying out missions, do you really think that's right?"
"So stop crying," he said gently. "Don't go tomorrow. We'll just make things harder for him. If you really want to help… then take even better care of Shiro's medicinal field."
As he spoke, Takuto wiped away her tears.
"I understand," Keiko said quietly. "I won't go tomorrow, then. But… can I go once in a while?"
"No," Takuto shook his head. "We wait for Shiro to contact us. We don't understand ninja affairs—let's not make things worse, okay?"
"…Alright." Keiko sighed. "I'll put my bag away. You eat while it's hot."
"Mm. Oh—pour me some wine after you're done."
"It's gone."
"What? How is it gone? Didn't we just buy it yesterday?"
"It expired. Hmph."
"…"
Watching her leave, Takuto lowered his head and continued eating in silence.
What else could he do? If he kept talking, even the freshly cooked food might "expire" next.
After finishing his meal and resting for a while, Takuto stood up and went to study to prepare for work the next day.
Swish—
As he pushed the door open, Takuto paused slightly. He glanced toward the kitchen, where Keiko was busy, said nothing, then closed the door behind him and walked inside.
"When did you arrive?" he asked calmly.
"Not long ago," Shiro replied. "Right around the time you were getting scolded by Mom."
Shiro wore a familiar mischievous grin—bright, shameless, and faintly annoying.
"This is all because of you, brat!"
"Tch. If you're scared, just admit it. Don't make excuses."
"How many times do I have to tell you?" Takuto snapped. "That's love, not fear!"
"Alright, alright—whatever you say." Shiro chuckled. "But… thanks, Dad."
"Hah. Why say something like that? I'm your father." Takuto waved him off, then narrowed his eyes.
"You didn't come just to watch me embarrass myself, did you? Speak. What is it?"
"It's nothing serious. I just wanted to see you both." Shiro paused. "I'll be leaving the Village in a couple of days—for training. I won't be back for a long time."
Takuto fell silent, studying his son.
"…How long?" he finally asked.
"Not sure. Depends on how the training goes."
"I see." Takuto exhaled slowly. "That might be for the best. With all the rumors in the Village, lying low outside for a while isn't a bad thing."
"Mm."
"You're not going to tell your mom, are you?"
"No." Shiro shook his head. "You know her. She'd worry herself sick."
Takuto snorted. "And you're not worried that I'll be in a bad mood worrying about you? You heartless little brat."
"Hehe. Dad, you're reasonable. I trust you."
"…Be careful," Takuto said quietly.
"I will."
The two sat across from each other in silence after that, neither speaking, simply sharing the moment.
After a while, under Shiro's curious gaze, Takuto stood up and pulled a bottle of wine and two cups from a hidden compartment in the bookshelf.
"Dad, this is…?"
"Don't tell anyone." Takuto lowered his voice. "This is good wine Jiro and I saved up to buy. Don't let your mom find out."
"…So when you came in here before, you weren't busy with work—you were drinking?"
"Occasionally. Occasionally." Takuto coughed. "Come. Let's drink—father and son."
As he poured the wine, Shiro hesitated.
"Dad, I'm not old enough to drink."
"Don't pretend," Takuto scoffed. "You think I don't know? I've seen it more than once."
"That was with friends—out of necessity."
"Sure, sure. Just drink a little."
"…Alright."
But just as Shiro reached for the cup—
The door suddenly opened.
"You left something—"
Keiko froze, staring at Takuto mid-drink, his head tilted back.
"Husband," she smiled sweetly, "that's quite a unique way of 'working.'"
Takuto's heart skipped. He immediately looked to Shiro's seat—
Empty.
Shiro had already vanished, slipping away with a swift Body Flicker the moment he heard footsteps.
…Ninjutsu really is convenient, Takuto thought bitterly.
Unfortunately, he had forgotten one very important thing.
There was still someone else here.
"Mr. Chikashi," Keiko said calmly, cracking her knuckles,
"Care to explain?"
"Keiko, listen—"
Too late.
When a woman says she wants an explanation, it usually means she no longer wants to hear one.
Thus, tragedy struck.
"Keiko, I was wrong!"
"No, you're not wrong," she replied coldly. "I am. I'll go buy you some wine right now."
"No—no need! I've already quit!"
Was he crazy? Let Keiko buy wine?
When Keiko bought "wine," she went to the hospital.
There was only alcohol there. No wine.
After suffering several times before—buying wine at the hospital, cigarettes at the pharmacy—Takuto had learned his lesson.
His strategy was simple.
Surrender immediately.
One surrender solves a thousand problems.
Fortunately, Keiko never noticed Shiro's presence.
Meanwhile, the boy Takuto was worrying about sat quietly on the roof of his house, listening to the noise below. A faint smile curved his lips—not the mischievous one, but a gentle, peaceful smile.
He wasn't worried. They'd been married for decades. Small arguments were nothing.
Scolding was just another form of affection.
In fact… he liked this atmosphere.
It was warm.
And so, Shiro remained there on the rooftop, listening to their lively quarrel, until much later—
only then quietly departing.
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