Tachyon turned and gave me a wicked little grin. "To be honest, I'm only about sixty percent full. But it's getting late for lunch. Best not to overdo it so I have room for a midnight snack."
She disappeared around the corner. I wasn't entirely convinced, but I turned back to my father. "Dad, next time you go shopping, take me with you. I have some Umamusume coupons."
"Sure," he nodded. He went back to staring at the kitchen wall, silently drying the dishes.
I returned to the kotatsu, feeling restless. Kosuke was there, hunched over his phone with a handheld console in his lap, completely absorbed in a game.
"What are you playing?" I asked.
"Isekai Spacetime," he muttered.
"...Oh, that one. I played it for a bit. Isn't it an FPS? Not really my style."
"Yeah, whatever."
Kosuke clearly wasn't listening. He was playing an online match; in the heat of a real-time battle, the words of a brother are just background noise. I knew the feeling. In fact, I often tuned people out even in offline games. At least he'd given me a "whatever."
I had my own handheld tucked away in my bag, but I didn't feel like pulling it out. I was halfway bored with my current game, and the atmosphere in the house was still making me feel on edge.
My eyes wandered to a shelf behind Kosuke. It was about waist-high, and I noticed several photos that hadn't been there the last time I visited. My father must have put them out recently.
There were three family photos. The first was from when my father, Kensuke, and my mother, Mika, were still young, with me and Kosuke as toddlers. The second was from when I was in middle school and Kosuke was in elementary. The third was of my mother in her hospital gown. I was in my third year of middle school then.
There was a fourth frame, too. But it was empty—a shiny, decorated case with silver borders and patterns of birds and flowers. I thought it was strange, but I didn't dwell on it. I picked up the three family photos and brought them back to the kotatsu to look at them more closely.
Tachyon returned from the restroom just then. She almost bumped into me, looking up with a start, but I was so engrossed in the pictures that I didn't even notice. She followed me back to the kotatsu and slid in.
"What are those? Photos?" she asked.
It took a second for her voice to register. "Oh... yeah. Photos. From back when my mom was still alive."
I fell silent again, staring at the images. Looking at them brought back a flood of memories—some of which carried a heat that felt dangerously like anger. I didn't want to call it anger, so let's call it a "searing, sunset-red emotion." Sunset had a deep connection to me, but now wasn't the time for that story. I just sat there, silent, staring.
Tachyon clearly wanted to say something, but sensing my mood, she decided against it. Instead, she reached out and picked up one of the frames to examine it herself.
The one she grabbed was from my elementary school days. Everyone was smiling; it was a generic, happy scene. She picked up another one—me as a small child. Same thing. Everyone looked perfectly, frustratingly happy.
Realizing she wasn't going to find any "data" in these, she set them back on the table and leaned over to look at the one I was still holding. The ceiling light reflected off the glass, obscuring the image. She gave up and looked around for something else to do.
Her eyes met Kosuke's. He had just finished a round of his game and was reaching for a snack. He gave her a playful, exaggerated wink. Tachyon let out a little "pfft" of a laugh. Kosuke immediately went back to his game, and Tachyon was bored again.
She reached for a chocolate from the table. It was sweet—just the way she liked it—but there was a faint, inexplicable bitterness beneath the sugar that made her nose crinkle. There wasn't anything else that looked particularly appetizing, so she took one more and stood up.
She decided she might as well read. She turned toward the sliding fusuma doors and went into the adjacent room to get a book from her suitcase.
She'd left the suitcase right by the door, so she only had to crack the fusuma a few inches to reach in and fish out a book. As she stood back up, her eyes fell on the butsudan—the family altar—standing nearby.
In the center was a photograph of a woman smiling. The mother from the family photos. Tachyon stared at it, her expression unreadable.
"People really do die, don't they?"
The voice behind her made her jump. She thought it was me, but the tone was different. It was Kosuke. Gone was the playful, teasing boy from moments ago; his dark eyes were deep and clouded with thought. He stood behind Tachyon, staring at the photo of his mother as if talking to himself.
Tachyon couldn't find an answer. She just watched him, noting the deep furrow in his brow.
I walked over and joined them. I'd looked up from the photos to see the two of them standing by the altar. Standing there next to his brother, Kosuke's profile was a mirror image of my own.
"Ah... Mom..." I whispered sadly.
From the kitchen, I heard the sound of running water. Then, the squeak-squeak of the faucet being tightened. Then, silence.
I stepped forward and placed a hand on Tachyon's shoulder. "Move a bit, please," I said softly. She didn't understand at first, but then she saw me reach for the candles. I knelt before the altar and lit the incense. I gave the sticks a sharp flick to douse the flame, leaving only the glowing red tips and a thin ribbon of smoke.
I looked back at Tachyon and Kosuke. Kosuke immediately knelt down beside me without being told. Tachyon hesitated—should she join in? She didn't move right away.
"You don't have to push yourself," I said gently. "If you don't want to pray, that's fine."
Tachyon looked at me, her expression a mix of conflict and irritation. To her, standing there while the people she was with prayed felt awkward—almost rude. Despite her internal grumbling, she lowered her knees and settled into a formal seiza position with us.