Kota was on a mission.
Not a secret agent mission. More like a "search the drawer to find gum and maybe candy Dad forgot about" kind of mission.
He dug through Max's old junk drawer in the living room—papers, receipts from 300 years ago, expired coupons, random batteries, one sock, a half-melted crayon...
Then his hand bumped into something. Something small and leather.
"Oho?" Kota whispered dramatically, lifting it like it was the Holy Grail. "A wallet?! What secrets do you hold, dusty rectangle?!"
He opened it—and there it was.
A photo.
A photo of a younger Max—clean-shaven, wearing his bookstore apron—and beside him was a woman. Smiling. Her dark hair tied up, eyes soft and sharp at the same time.
Noriko.
Between them? A tiny, very round baby Kota drooling on Max's arm like a proud pudding.
Kota stared. The memories came flooding like a broken dam. Her voice. Her scolding. Her very specific way of folding laundry. The weird song she used to sing while cleaning. Her cooking. Her laugh.
Kota blinked.
"...I remember her."
He ran to the kitchen where Max was currently eating chips like a gremlin who found treasure.
"Dad."
"Mmrgh?"
"Who's this?" Kota held up the photo.
Max took one glance—and froze.
He blinked once.
Then twice.
His eyes landed on Noriko's face. Her smile. The way her hand was resting on his shoulder like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like they belonged.
He didn't say anything. Just stared. Like if he looked long enough, she'd step out of the photo and speak.
Kota, ever the destroyer of solemn moments, snorted and pointed. "Dang, Dad. You looked like a K-drama lead. Look at that apron. And HER—look at her—Ms. Bookstore Boss with the perfect hair and the luscious lips—"
Max snapped out of his daze like someone dumped water on him.
"LUSCIOUS WHAT?"
Kota cackled. "You were totally in love, huh? Like—'Hi, would you like a receipt and maybe MY HEART?'"
Max lunged. "You little goblin!"
"AHH—DON'T TOUCH ME I'M FRAGILE—"
Max grabbed him and tickled him mercilessly. Kota screamed like a kettle going off in space.
"Confess! You made the luscious lips comment just to die!"
"YES! AND IT WAS WORTH IT!"
They collapsed on the couch, breathless, laughing.
Then it got quiet.
Max held the photo a little longer. His smile faded into something softer. Something older.
"...I miss her," he finally said.
Kota looked over. Max wasn't crying. But his eyes were distant. Empty. Like he was somewhere else.
Kota frowned.
He reached over and patted Max's back.
"It's hard being an old man, huh?"
Max snorted.
"You little—"
"I'm just saying," Kota said, grinning. "You got creaky bones and a tragic backstory. You're basically an anime character now."
Max looked at him. Then they both burst out laughing again.
Their voices echoed through the small apartment like the warmth of a memory not yet lost.
---
Somewhere else...
In a high-rise condo in Las Vegas, neon lights blinking outside the windows, a phone buzzed and buzzed.
The screen lit up: 7 New Notifications.
On the couch lay a man—scruffy beard, long hair, belly poking out from under a shirt that said "Taco Tuesday."
He didn't move.
But his eyes slowly opened.
The light of the phone reflected in his irises.
He looked tired. Like someone who forgot how to smile.
The buzzing stopped.
Silence.
Then—
Ping.
He stared at the message.
No reaction.
But something in his chest stirred.
Very faint.
And the chapter ends.