Wayside - 1920s Japan Dramedy

「Wonderful, so it's agreed you will teach Mieko Tuesday through Friday starting next week.」

The light clang of silverware rang across the dining table, accompanying the idle chatter of Mister Takahara and Mister Fosters.

「She truly needs more time with you, after five months with your teaching it's apparent her previous tutor was of no benefit whatsoever.」

Mieko held back a cringe as Mister Fosters hummed in agreement.

「Yes, if I recall correctly, that Mrs. O'Halloran always incorporated a rather unnecessary amount of-what to call it-」 Mister Fosters rolled his eyes to the ceiling before reaching for his wine glass. 「-American enthusiasm in her lessons.」 Raising his eyebrows, he took a laughably small sip before continuing. 「Such a shame, she seemed to be a promising young woman, fit for structured teaching.」

「I was of the mindset that a female teacher would encourage her to speak English in a...soft manner.」 Mister Takahara raised a hand towards his daughter, completely unaware of the toll the conversation was having on her. 「But after hearing that woman's accent, I knew I was sorely mistaken.」

Mieko held her eyes on her plate, fixated on a clump of vegetables while attempting to ignore her father's unwarranted criticism.

American enthusiasm? I'd take Mrs. O'halloran's “American enthusiasm” over this bore any day.

She tapped her knee with her pinky, hands resting on the blue dress she had donned the hour prior.

Kazuma was probably being inundated with "American enthusiasm" everyday, and his English was just fine.

In fact, it was probably even better than it had been, what with all the crazy adventures and exploits he wrote about in his million-page long letters every month.

Her father's thick voice sounded across the table once more.

「What I should have done was inquire about a Canadian female. I hear they're less animated, what do you think about that?」

「Now now, I’m not sure if I want to compromise my job, Mister Takahara.」 Both men chuckled at Mister Foster’s jest while Mieko poked at her food. 「But, I've only been to the United States twice, and the dialect varies among location.」 Mister Fosters' gaze bounced between Mieko and her father as he stabbed into his salmon. 「But I can say with certainty that no one in Vancouver, especially no ladies I knew, spoke in such a way resembling Mrs. O'Halloran.」 A wave of his fork emphasized his words, 「I suppose that's one positive of being raised in the north: we decided inclement weather was more favorable than inclement women.」

Weak laughter rumbled from the two men as Mieko forced her lips into an agreeable smile.

Another positive would have been if a polar bear came along and ate y–

「Speaking of America, one of your boys is returning home soon, yes?」

「He's not my son, but with the amount of money I've given to him he may as well be.」

Mieko held down a scoff at her father's spiteful tone.

The amount of money you've given him? More like the amount of money he's made for you.

Mieko couldn't stand how her father constantly vilified Kazuma, even during times when he wasn't present to defend himself.

Eyeing his daughter from across the table, Mister Takahara decided to tread lightly. 「With what he's learned during his time there, he'll hopefully have the proper experience to take over.」

「I've never been, but New York is certainly the place to be for finance, as well as—」 Mister Fosters huffed as his napkin met his lips. 「–other things.」

Mieko perked up. Other things? Surely, Kazuma had told her everything worth telling!

Although she tried to hide her intrigue and not feed her tutor’s ego any further, Mieko's eyes were alight with curiosity.

「What kinds of things?」

Mister Fosters turned his head towards Mieko, as if her presence was truly being acknowledged for the first time that evening.

「Yes.」 Folding his hands underneath his chin, Mister Takahara appeared just as taken as his daughter. 「I've always had the feeling Kazuma was hiding something in his letters, now I’m nearly positive my hunch was correct.」

「Crime. Crime everywhere, so I've heard.」 A haughty laugh followed Mister Fosters' blunt declaration. 「It's all out war in some areas–I've heard.」

Mieko winced as the grip on her fork grew tighter, every word prodding the small but present urge to slap this man across his face once the opportunity presented itself.

So I've heard–what an annoying phrase, just who came up with that?

It's not polite to babble on about things you know nothing about–so I've heard.

Now she really couldn't wait until Kazuma returned home. She already had their new inside joke.

「Now now, it's no laughing matter, Mieko.」 Mister Fosters wagged a finger in the air, unaware of the subtle twitch traveling across Mieko's stony smile.

「Ever since they passed that 'no alcohol' law or whatever they're calling it, that city–that country–has been run by criminals.」

By this point in the evening it was usually Mister Takahara's cue to solemnly nod and down his very own glass of alcohol, and tonight was no different than the others.

The prices to pay for a daughter's education.

「Now I know you have the yakuza gangs, but they're not placing innocent bystanders' lives in danger. The mafia goons over there on the other hand–they're out of control, simply put! If Wilson had half the brain they claim he has, he'd have never even considered such an asinine law.」

Mieko blinked in confusion.

Wilson?

「Wh-?」 She didn't even bother to finish as her father's voice boomed over her own.

「Well, as soon as I'm able to see Kazuma, I'll have to ask him more about this...intriguing situation.」

As thankful as Mieko was for her father's opportune timing in cutting off Mister Fosters' tirade, something was off about his choice of words.

As soon as he's able? The first thing Kazuma was going to do once he stepped off that boat was come back to Osaka and see them. Right?

Mieko was even hoping that her father would suggest they go and surprise Kazuma at the station, but by this point in the evening that was a low possibility.

「He's coming to see us tomorrow.」 The matter-of-fact tone would have normally surprised even herself, but someone had to be the voice of reason. 「There's no reason he wouldn't, right? I want to see him.」

「He'll be exhausted, Mieko, surely. And quite honestly, I don’t really know myself when his train arrives. He never bothered to send a set schedule. It might be tomorrow.」 Her father shrugged. 「Or it might be the day after, or the day after that.」

Mieko simply sat there, her jaw working overtime to ensure that her mouth wouldn't fall flat to the floor at her father's nonchalance.

He still didn't care.

Kazuma had been gone for three years, and not once had her father ever shown any signs of missing his company.

While Mieko lay in bed each night reeling about the adventures written in Kazuma's letters, her father sometimes didn't even bother to skim through them.

If he reads them, he'll miss him. It's his loss, but once Kazuma does come home, Father will definitely be thrilled.

That was her original thought.

Boy, no time like the present to prove how wrong she was.

「How can you not know?」 As soon as they flew off her tongue, Mieko instantly knew she would come to regret those words.

「How can I not know.」 Her father repeated the words as if they were a riddle for the ages. Tingles shot up Mieko's fingers and through her arms as his voice lingered throughout the dining room.

Mister Fosters was of no help at all: his gray eyes were glazed, eyebrows raised, and his mouth was shut during the one time Mieko would have loved for him to ramble on about anything his heart desired.

「There is one thing I miss about Kazuma.」 With her father's every word, the confidence and certainty coursing through Mieko moments ago steadily plummeted into her stomach–and he knew. 「Since you're sentimental, perhaps now is a good time to reminisce.」

Clang. Clang.

Mister Takahara tapped his knife against his porcelain plate, a bad habit he normally would never admit to or showcase in front of anyone but his daughter.

Clang.

「Kazuma knew when to stop talking.」

Clang.

「Whenever I decide to allow him in this house again, perhaps he'll take some time to teach you to keep your mouth shut.」

Seeing her father tapping away at his plate, hearing the incessant clanging, knowing Mister Foster's eyes were glued onto her waiting for some kind of reaction–it was enough to make Mieko go mad, but instead she hung her head.

「Okay.」 Ignoring the pain burning behind her eyes and in her throat, she silently celebrated her short yet audible reply as she studied the tablecloth pattern beneath her.

She reminded herself to properly thank the universe at a later date as Mister Fosters finally decided to cut in.

「As much as I would love nothing more than to stay in your company, I did unfortunately make a promise to the missus to be home before she retires for the evening.」

It was a sorry excuse, what with the half-finished fish still lying lifelessly on his plate, but Mieko nor her father could have cared any less.

「She's always going on about how I have too much fun without her, whatever she's implying I haven't a clue.」 Dabbing his cracked lips with a napkin, he began to rise from his chair. As his hands plucked away at his tie and collar, he flashed Mister Takahara a knowing grin. 「It must be nice to have peace and quiet whenever you get home, nobody breathing down your neck.」

Knife still gripped between his fingers, Mister Takahara froze. He didn't dare look at his daughter.

「Mm.」 His lips pursed into a straight line as he also rose from the table, dropping his silverware and summoning the courage to steal a glimpse at Mieko.

"Good night, Mister Fosters."

Mister Takahara's chest tightened as he heard his daughter’s monotone voice. Mieko having the strength to make eye contact let alone reply to her tutor after that comment was enough for her father to overlook her behavior.

"Good night, my dear. Your pronunciation is nearly perfect, now! Next time I see you, we'll keep working on it."

Her gut churned as Mister Fosters and her father headed towards the hallway.

Well, so much for going to bed and not feeling sick.

As the voices grew softer and the footsteps less booming, Mieko winced at the pain settling atop her shoulders.

Surely with him finally gone, she should be joyously hopping right back into her bedroom and into a deep sleep, flighty dreams coaxing her to forget the horrible evening altogether.

Instead, she found herself obligated to stay stuck to her chair, its plush cushioning irritating her strained muscles rather than comforting them.

And she waited.

It wasn't long until her father returned to the dining room, standing at the hallway entrance instructing a pair of maids to tidy up for the evening.

Her mouth grew dry.

Here he goes again.

How can he be this way?

Trying to ignore the help now swirling about the room, Mieko's body lurched forward, hands gripping the cool fabric of her skirt.

「Dad–」

「I'm tired." He turned away. "If this is about Kazuma, it can wait until morning.」

「It's not about Kazuma, it's about–」

「Go to bed.」

The bite in his voice surprised even Mister Takahara himself. He refused to look back at his daughter, at her watery eyes and stiffened lip.

It was too much, it had always been too much.

It was the one challenge he could never overcome.

It was the one challenge he didn't want to overcome.

He started for his room.