“Thank you,” Kyoko said softly, tears in her eyes. She was moved by his thoughtful kindness in adding the coffee that Kinuyo had loved, even though she never ordered it.

Bereavement.

It’s a part of life, and carrying out acts of mourning allows us not to forget. Perhaps in the case of the large Christmas tree that Kei had left, the tree embodied not only her wish to never be forgotten, but was also a sign that she would always be watching over them. As for the way the Christmas tree was used, well, it was unconventional. But if Miki enjoyed it, it was certainly being used in accordance with Kei’s wish.

“How much was it again?” asked Kyoko, wiping a tear.

Nagare narrowed his eyes further, perhaps in embarrassment. “Er, two thousand, three hundred and sixty yen,” he replied softly.

Kyoko pulled the money out of her purse. “Here you go,” she said, handing him a five-thousand-yen note and three hundred and sixty yen in change.

Nagare took the money and pressed the clunky keys of the cash register.

“By the way,” he said, then paused. “He’s moving back to Tokyo, isn’t he? What’s his name, Yukio, was it?” he asked Kyoko. Yukio was Kyoko’s younger brother, who had moved to Kyoto to become a studio potter.

“Yes, he’s coming home! Things were pretty hard for a while, but he’s found himself a job.”

It hadn’t been easy for Yukio to find proper work. He had spent his adult years up until his late thirties solely focused on ceramics, leaving him with no qualifications. He was open to any field of work, so he sought help from Hello-Work, the public employment placement service. After eleven unsuccessful applications, he was hired by a small company that sold Western-style tableware. Newly arrived in Tokyo, he chose to live in a company apartment. In this way, he took the first steps toward beginning a second life.

“Oh, that’s wonderful to hear,” said Nagare as he handed Kyoko the change. Kazu, who was listening in on the conversation behind Nagare, also bowed her head. Kyoko’s expression, however, darkened a little. She looked over at the man in that chair and let out a small sigh.

“It never crossed my mind that Yukio was thinking about suicide,” she lamented. “I’m really so grateful,” she said, bowing her head deeply.

“Don’t mention it,” said Kazu. Her deadpan expression did not change, so it was difficult for Kyoko to know how well she had conveyed her feelings. Nevertheless, Kyoko nodded, seemingly satisfied.

“I’ve done another one!” exclaimed a boisterous Miki, who had finished writing another wish.

“Oh, have you? What’s the wish?” asked Kyoko with a smile.

“That Daddy becomes happy.” Miki read it out loudly, and then giggled.