My arms dropped, and my legs went. I ran through into the convenience store nearly hitting myself at the sliding glass door. It was my first time meeting my father since my childhood. My first steps towards him, all grown up. Would he even recognize me? My rationality returned to balance my excitement as my run turned into a confident walk. I shouldn’t use an explosive approach.

My father still focused his attention on helping Sorah with the map while I casually walked over. My voice cracked a bit, as I wiped my hair of sweat and rain. “Sir.”

The older man turned around, as Sorah dealt with the transaction of the map. My father’s gaze fixed onto me for a while in silence. “Good afternoon to you too. Do you need anything?”

I could read him like a book after all this time dealing with Qawasumi and Sorah. “Greetings, I’m Kaizenji Kawari. Are you…”

“Uh, surely you are joking.” He glanced away from me, with a nervous smile. “My name is Kaizenji Makoto. My wife and son are already…”

“No dad, I’m right here.” I extended my arm out to him, while he refused to take it. Something was clearly holding him back. He recognized my face, he recognized my voice even when it had changed throughout the years. “You told me that, everything would turn out alright in the end? Well, I’m here in front of you, right now.”

“...” He bit his lip, while making sure no one else saw. Sorah had already finished paying, standing right behind my father as his eyes trembled. “So you really are Kawari?...”

The rain stopped, and the clouds parted for the sun. A step towards taking responsibility. To visit my father. Kaizenji Makoto reached out his arm and took mine to shake it. We’d accomplished our goal. A personal one of mine, but I felt that it was needed. I’d done something I wouldn’t have done before I walked into that parallel world.

“Gah, why didn’t you tell me directly? I was expecting more of an emotional welcome,” My father said as soon as we exited the convenience store together, heading down the road. It seemed his mood took a switcharound. “You’ve matured quite a bit last time I saw you. What has it been? How many years?”

“Eleven years.”

“That’s… Well.” He ignored the large number. “So, you’ve got a job?”

“Um, that’s… Well.”

He sighed, patting my back aggressively. “D’you finish university? You know me and Ayu… Your mother… We both split the tuition.”

“Yeah, I did.” I was reverting back to my old self back in those days, where my younger timid nature got the best of me. I needed to respond as my current self. My better version of me.

“Something’s been bothering me, Kawari.” He stopped walking, before turning us around. “Care to introduce me to those two?”

My father pointed to Sorah and Qawasumi, who trailed behind us quietly. Sorah quickly realized and stopped his foot, signaling Qawasumi to do the same. Right. I had to explain the same thing to my mother. There was no need to lie. Maybe if I told him the truth, then he would be at ease.

“Hm…” He scratched his spiky chin, his beard clearly shaved recently. He snapped his fingers. “These are your foreigner friends, huh?”

My eyes went blank. “Yeah, foreign friends.”

My father stepped forward and extended his hand to Sorah. “Nice to meet you. Name’s Kaizenji Makoto, Kawari’s father. I don’t know what you are to him, but thank you for being by his side.”

Sorah shook his head, easing himself to take Makoto’s hand. “Nice to meet you. My name is Totshigui Sorah. Your son… is a very good person. He help us very much.”

“And you?”

“Eh?... Uh…” Qawasumi’s shoulders perked up as she immediately hid behind Sorah’s back, peeking from his shoulder.

“I’m apologize. Her name is Qawasumi Ruri. She no speak Japanese.” He answered for her, gesturing with his hands. Sorah’s Japanese really improved over a matter of time, and they hadn’t been out for a month yet. I guessed that spending months in Itogutshi reading picture dictionaries actually work.

I turned towards my father again, to see that in his eyes a shocked expression, mixed with an emotion I could only akin to something else. He didn’t reach out his hand to her but turned to continue walking forward.

“You’ve got some nice friends.” He gave a complicated smile. I couldn’t decipher what emotions were hidden in it. “So, what are you all doing here in Hakone? I don’t think that you came just to see me, Kawari.”

“To be honest, that was the only reason.”

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“Huh? Surely you came here for the ryokan, or Lake Ashi—”

“I’m serious.” I made sure my face matched my words. No more misunderstandings or skirting around. I wanted to visit him. That was all there was to it. However he didn’t seem too happy about it, with all the tension in his face. “I was also thinking about staying at your place—”

He sniffled while he frantically covered his eyes with his arm.

“D… dad?” I rushed to him, holding my arm out. “Dad, what’s wrong?”

“You can stay here as long as you want…” He kept his face hidden, while people passing by stared at us as some covered their mouths in curiosity. “I’m glad you came here, Kawari. Everything will be alright. Everything…”

At that moment, I misunderstood his emotions. How he’d been feeling. That was something I couldn’t comprehend simply because I hadn’t seen him all this time. I needed to talk. I needed to understand. Understanding led to trust. Rebuilding old bridges lost to time, I truly questioned whether that could be done. My journey until now, what did really matter?

With Makoto, I clearly remembered the route to his house. The house where my parents and I lived for my first decade of life. There the four of us stood at the front, an traditional house that survived multiple renovations and estates sprawling around it. I remembered it a bit tidier, but now that one person was left to occupy it some of it was in disarray.

Once inside, my father offered the guestroom to Sorah and Qawasumi. Even though Makoto did his best to make them feel welcomed, Qawasumi still feared him. He attempted to hide his reaction, but nevertheless a hint of sadness flickered in his eyes. I opted to unpack my baggage in the main room, lounging on the tatami floor and around a lowered table.

“I’m home.” I said to myself, my gaze fixing onto the ceiling. Reminiscing the times I’ve played here, drawing, eating, crying together with my brother and parents, I felt that now I’d done something I’d always wanted to do, I was capable of doing anything. Whether I could live up to that feeling, was a different story.

We spent the rest of the day here, even getting a fresh shower I hadn’t had in ages. The modern world… Compared to the parallel one it felt like a utopia. Coming out from the shower room wearing a white shirt and shorts and rubbing a towel on my head, I looked down the empty hallway. I made sure to open each door one by one, testing if ‘that door’ would suddenly appear. It did not.

Night befell Hakone as the windows darkened. June cicadas hummed their evening tune. Remnants of rain trickled down the glass and gabled roofs of the home. The pedestal fan in the corner huffed and puffed, struggling to give cool air to the main room. Sorah and Qawasumi didn’t come out from the guestroom, so I just returned to my seat as before, idling. My father entered soon after, carrying a beer or two. The happoshulow-malt beer kind.

“Kawari, you’re old enough to drink now, right?”

“Of course I am.” I swiped one from his hand and held it up. “Thanks.”

We cracked our cans open and stared out the sliding window to the left. I was sure we thought of the same thing. When mother used to take me out to the yard, watching me catching all sorts of bugs. Or when he used to make yakitori for us by himself.

This was the time to spill the truth, now when we were both getting ourselves hammered. I myself couldn’t get drunk on beer, though. But Makoto should be more accepting of the truth when his inhibitors were down. He never made eye contact with me.

I took a sip, leading into the conversation. “So dad, there’s something I need to tell you. About Sorah and Miss Qawasumi.”

“They ain’t from this world, right?”

My head faced him directly, genuinely shocked. Getting hammered was straight out of question. He knew the entire time. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Take one look at ‘em, Kawari. They’re wearing clothes I would think would only exist in the Heian Period, somethin’ like that.” Makoto rationalized, gently shaking the can in his hand. As expected of my father with a keen eye. “But I don’t mind. I jus’ know that whatever situation you in, it’ll turn out alright.”

“I see…” My voice dropped off seemingly. The more alcohol he consumed the more his rural dialect came in fast.

“How’s Ayu… your mother?”

“You can call her by her name, dad. It’s been a long time already. She’s still bitter as always.”

“Ayumi… Do you still hate me?”

“No one hates you.” I placed my hand on the table, having finished one beer already.

“But after all these years… After Ayumi took you to Tokyo way back when, she nevah told me about you or any plans to visit Hakone. I thought about wantin’ to come to y’all, though I nevah knew where y’all lived.” One hand curled up in his lap, while the other crushed one can. “I’m sorry for what happened back then. It was my fault.” Makoto stood up and walked to my side of the table and kneeled on the ground. Then he proceeded to bow onto the floor. “I’m so sorry…”

“Dad, please get up… There’s no need for that.” I put my other hand on his back, trying to get him to sit upright. Before I knew it water condensed in my eyes. “I don’t hate you at all. And I don’t blame anyone for you and mom’s separation.”

No words like ‘I love you dad’ or ‘I love you both’ could express the admiration I had. I strove to understand now, after everything. I didn’t want to judge, nor declare a side. My father didn’t have any resentment towards my mother. He blamed himself for the divorce.

“Remember what you told me, dad?”

“...”

“‘Everything will be okay’, right?”

He slowly lifted up his head, his unspoken response hanging in the air. “I said that to you as a throwaway phrase… But is it okay to not be okay?”

The ultimate question I had contemplated my entire life. My hectic way of living, living full of regret and unfulfilled responsibilities. Paths I should’ve chosen but never chose. Things I should’ve said but never articulated. Murderers, criminals, mental health, stigma, what did these things mean to society? To us?

“To me, it’s not a throwaway phrase. It’s my mantra.” I softly shook my head, putting both hands on his shoulders to sit himself upright. “I want to search for an answer. I want to understand that question. There are reasons why mom became so discontent. There are reasons why people do the things they do. I will eventually find an answer, so I know everything will turn out alright.”

A thump sounded from the hallway, something clearly falling to the floor. Perhaps a floor lamp or painting. As we turned our heads to the sound, a door slid shut from the guestroom. Sorah or Qawasumi, one of the two, most likely. I took it as the cue to turn in for the night. I’d gotten to say the things I wanted to say. Misunderstandings, all cleared. I still had my responsibilities, but now with newfound confidence.

I rested easy that night.