"Father, this is my pay from my part-time job. It's a little over 40,000 Yen."
After dinner, Hachiman knelt before Ryohei and presented an envelope.
"You worked hard. Will you continue?"
"School starts in a week, so..."
"Then rest at home and keep Komachi company. You two should use the last of the break to go out and have some fun."
Ryohei waved it off, then drew a 10,000 Yen bill (Yukichi Fukuzawa) and gave it to Komachi.
"Eh? But... Dad, aren't you coming?" Komachi looked at the bill, her face lacking the joy a child should have.
"Dad won't be going! You and your brother go enjoy yourselves. And Hachiman! Once school starts, focus on your studies. Don't worry about money; leave that to me. No more working during the semester."
Ryohei wanted them to relax. He knew from his years as a teacher that divorce leaves long-lasting scars on children.
Simply keeping them fed wasn't enough to be a father. Even if poverty lay ahead, they had to find a way to live well.
The greatest impact of divorce on a child is the feeling of being abandoned. Komachi Hikigaya, despite her cheerful exterior, clearly felt this. She often dreamed of the rainy day her mother left.
There was an argument, and then her mother simply packed a bag and walked out.
She had waved a tearful goodbye at the door: "Mom is leaving..."
Little Komachi had followed her to the street, asking, "Mom, don't you want me anymore?"
Her mother hadn't spoken; her eyes were red like a rabbit's. Komachi couldn't tell if she was crying because the rain was too heavy.
Her mother had pushed her away and told her to go back, then strode off.
"Dad, will you leave Komachi, too?"
*****
The next morning, Ryohei woke Komachi gently.
"Time to get up! Breakfast is ready. You and Hachiman go out today. Eat lunch outside, no need to rush back."
Ryohei spent the morning on a "Danshari" (decluttering) mission. The tiny room was packed with boxes from their old life.
In the corner sat the grand piano.
It was a massive waste of space. Ryohei could imagine the previous Ryohei struggling to move it here, unable to part with his ex-wife's instrument.
"This thing is heavy... looks well-maintained. I'll sell it to a second-hand shop this afternoon. It should be worth at least two or three months' rent."
He didn't know music and had no attachment to it.
He took several photos to list it.
As he cleared boxes, he found one containing three beautiful dresses—one purple silk summer dress, one beige autumn skirt, and a grey winter gown.
Of course, he kept these as souvenirs.
He just couldn't let go.
He picked up the purple dress.
The tags were still on. Price: 157,108 Yen.
Ryohei wanted to slap himself. You bought her a 150,000 Yen dress, and she didn't even wear it once?
What a waste!
He tucked the box back into the closet. He'd find a way to sell those, too.
Knock, knock!
"Yo, Ryohei! Doing some spring cleaning?" Miura Kosanjuro walked in.
Miura and Ryohei were best friends from primary school through high school. While Miura had gone into foreign trade, Ryohei had been the elite graduate.
They were the kind of "life-long" friends everyone needs.
"That piano... You still haven't gotten rid of it? It's a shame to toss it, though. Must have been expensive."
Miura kicked off his shoes and sat on the tatami.
He'd intended to tease Ryohei about his obsession with Kazusa's things, but he was mostly just frustrated by his friend's lack of spine.
"I'm planning to sell it at a second-hand market," Ryohei said calmly while changing his clothes.
"Good that you're selling it... Wait, what? You're actually selling it?!"
Miura shouted, taking two seconds to process the news.
This chapter deepens the "New Ryohei's" social standing, contrasting his predecessor's emotional fragility with his current "Zen" pragmatism. We also see the first connection between the Hikigaya family and the Miura family through their children.
Miura Kosanjuro couldn't believe his eyes.
When Ryohei had first divorced Kazusa, the man was a wreck.
He remembered Ryohei sobbing face-down on a bar table. How many people does a man let see his tears? Adult tears are rare as diamonds, yet Ryohei had wept like a child in front of him.
Tsk! Thank god Yumiko's mother is gentle and virtuous, Miura thought, though his mood quickly dipped as he remembered his wife's illness.
"I'm selling it," Ryohei said, snapping Miura out of his thoughts.
"I don't play, and neither do the kids." Ryohei maintained a mask of calm detachment. He wanted Miura to believe that this personality change was simply a result of the trauma from the divorce.
"If you're sure... fine by me," Miura sighed.
He felt for his friend; Ryohei had essentially returned to "Ground Zero" overnight.
"Come on, let's go eat. My treat! Consider it a celebration of finally getting that woman out of your life!"
Miura clapped Ryohei on the shoulder.
Seeing his friend "recovering," he was already mentally scanning his list of eligible bachelors and single women.
Ryohei is a graduate of a top National University; he's slightly more handsome than I, and he's a textbook 'Good Man.' Even with two kids, he's still a 'Blue Chip' stock.
"So, Ryohei," Miura winked, "have you thought about... never mind, we'll talk later. Let's eat!"
The two men sat in a small Soy Sauce Ramen shop. Ryohei had insisted on a cheap place over a formal restaurant, and Miura, knowing their bond, didn't argue, though he insisted on paying.
Over beer, they talked about the usual "Uncle" topics: work, family, and kids.
Miura noticed the change.
Ryohei spoke less, and his eyes were steady.
Most importantly, when Ryohei mentioned Kazusa, he spoke of her as if she were a total stranger. This finally put Miura's mind at ease.
"So, your Hachiman is going to Sobu High?" Miura asked.
"My daughter, Yumiko, you've met her, she got in too. I didn't have high hopes, but she pulled it off." Miura beamed with pride.
"Which class?" Ryohei asked, sipping his soup.
"Class 1-F."
Ryohei nearly choked on his broth.
"Hachiman is in that class too. What a..."
"Fate!" Miura laughed.
"It's fate! We were always in the same classes, and now our kids are too. It's comforting to think the friendship will pass down."
"Yeah... fate," Ryohei muttered.
He remembered Miura's daughter from his own memory fragments. He knew what was coming next.
"Here, look at her," Miura said, showing off a photo of a girl with dyed blonde hair.
"She insisted on dyeing it if she got into Sobu. I don't like it, but a deal's a deal..."