The walk home from Usagi dredges on. The girl takes in the sights of the street leading up to her home, litter, plastic, old cans of steel trash, not modern recycling bins. The drunkard on the street stares at her, completely dazed by his surroundings.

  “You really need to clean up your act. But here.” She takes out 1,000 yen and hands it to him. “Please don’t spend this on anything unnecessary, sir.”

  “I, blarg, thaaank, it’s great!” he stumbles out.

  “Yeah, I’d figure you say as much.” She softly sighs, making her way home. Her stepping down onto the sheet metal is a signal for her mother. She comes to the door, leaning against the frame, and she notices her daughter’s downcast.

  “Hard day today, dear?” she asks.

  “Hey, Mom. Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Her lungs relax, and her mother can see the twinge in her eyes.

  “Come in, dear. I made you dinner.” They made their way to the dinner table, the shanty floor creaking and wobbling as they both rested on plain wood chairs. The scent of dinner is apparent, her favorite once again.

  “Udon, why did you make that tonight? You usually only do that on special occasions,” she says.

  Stirring the pot gingerly, she pours the meal into a ceramic bowl. Her mother’s silence speaks volumes to her.

  “I only wish to make my dear daughter better. You’ve been coming back home with a pain somewhere in you. A mother always knows.” The fantastic dish is placed in front of her. Her eyes meet it, then move up to her mother. A soft, gentle, and welcoming hand is placed under her chin. It’s warm and inviting, making a smile form.

  “Yeah… I’m sorry, Mom, it’s just been an uncertain time in my life, is all.” She doesn’t wish to say the true reason why she feels the way she does. If she does, her mother will never let her leave the house. There would be pure fear in her heart for her safety. She chooses to circle around it.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “You are at that age. Newly adult years can be a rather confusing time for anyone. Life is just starting out for you and your friends.” She partakes in her own bowl, the steam coming off and brushing her face. Seeing her mother like this always feels calming, especially seeing her close her eyes. It almost makes her appear more happy.

  “You don’t know the half of it, Mom. It’s just, you know… sometimes I worry about Okazaki…” She suddenly comes up with a good workaround to discuss the thing she wishes. “I worry about him and his reckless behavior. On that motorcycle of his, I mean. What if he gets in a crash and gets hurt?”

  “Dear, please don’t say things like that. Thinking that way can be bad karma,” she says sternly.

  “Sorry… It’s just something that replays in my head and weighs on me.”

  Her mother pours them a drink of green tea. “Well, dear, how would you and your friends feel if that were to happen?”

  “Terrible. Awful… I’d never get over it,” she says with a hint of sorrow.

  “Feelings are often shared by people who care about a person, dear. How you feel and how your friends feel are how his family and people close to him will feel. That is why I hold in my heart that he never comes to that fate, but I can’t control him. It’s not my place. He is his own person. Simple hope is all I can hold.”

  There is a pause in Usagi. Her solemn face stares down at her udon. It continues to cool.

  “I guess those feelings would go for any one of us?” she finally says.

  “Naturally, dear. Your friends have all been friends to me, too, in a sense. They don’t come around as often, but those nights when I made you all food, hearing you all laugh and have fun together, playing games and making memories, it was so wonderful to me too.” She holds her cup, a grin on her face. Usagi returns it, finishing the last ounce of her meal and going to clean the dish.

  “Thank you, Mom. I needed to hear that tonight.” Without warning, her arms run over, wrapping around her mother, softly gripping her neck from behind.

  “My, my girl is affectionate tonight, aren’t you?” She chuckles lightly, tapping her arm in reassurance. “Just like when you were a baby.” It fills her mother with a pleasant nostalgia.

  Letting her go now, she makes her way to her room, stopping for a second.

  “I will do my best to protect them.” Even myself. I will protect myself for you, Mom. She closes the door.