Saturday came and I started with my usual workout routine—morning stretches, running to the riverside, high intensity exercises at the park, and jogging back. As I was approaching my house, I noticed Dad walking up to the front door so I picked up the pace and ran up to him right as he reached for it.
"You're back early."
He turned around before I started to speak, probably heard me running over. Giving me a long look top to bottom, he raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Good morning, how may I help you?"
I snorted a little while panting, hands on my knees trying to breath slowly. "Ha ha, very funny Dad. Good morning! How are you? How was the trip?"
"C'mon in kiddo, we can talk all about it inside."
Mom was walking out of her room as we entered and greeted us both. Before we could talk about anything, she interjected. "Not. Right. Now." She looked at me and said, "You are sweating and reek… Go upstairs and freshen up first." Then turning to Dad, "And you too dear, don't you need to rest after all this work and travelling."
We both looked at each other, laughed and sighed, reserving ourselves to our fates we walk away to our rooms.
It took me about an hour to cool down, take a bath and freshen up before I came down for breakfast. Mom and Maki were in the kitchen—Mom finishing up the breakfast and Maki telling her all about her art class and how the girl sitting in front of her had drawn the funniest and most disfigured dog that looked more like a giraffe.
I silently waltzed over and started setting up the table. Mom noticed me and gave me a smile, "Call your Father after you finish there, okay?"
"Yes ma'am!"
After setting up all the plates and cutlery, I walked over to my parents room where I noticed my Father lying on the bed, taking a nap.
"Dad," I said softly, knocking on the doorframe. "Breakfast's ready."
He stirred, opening one eye and smiling faintly. "Already? How long was I out for?"
"Not long," I said with a grin. "Definitely less than 2 days."
He chuckled, rubbing his eyes as he got up. "Your Mom would have killed me if I had ignored her for that long."
We sat around the table together—the four of us for the first time in what felt like ages. Dad looked different in daylight: the tan on his face a shade deeper, lines near his eyes slightly more visible. But there was a brightness in him too, a kind of relief.
"So," Mom said, serving rice. "How did everything go in Kansai?"
Dad took a sip of miso soup before answering. "Better than expected. The new branch hit its first-quarter goal two months early. The team's shaping up well. We're still ironing out logistics, but things are moving faster than planned."
Mom's face glowed with pride. "I knew it. All that late-night work is finally paying off."
Maki clapped her hands, grinning. "Does that mean we get to celebrate today?"
Dad laughed. "Sharp as ever. Yes, we're going out tonight. So, everyone, clear your schedules."
Mom smiled knowingly. "I'll make a reservation then. Yakitori, right?"
Dad grinned. "You know me too well."
*****
The rest of the morning passed peacefully. I helped Mom around the house, wiped down the furniture, and carried some groceries from the car. Every so often, Dad would pop in and comment about my "military precision" before heading back to his laptop for a quick email check.
Around noon, Maki came into my room holding one of her sketchbooks. "You really are turning weird, you know?"
I looked up from my stretches. "Only now realizing that?"
She ignored me, flipping through the pages until she found what she wanted. "I drew something for you."
It was a sketch of me, running along the sidewalk. I could clearly notice myself in the features, with sweat dripping down and shading depicting the early morning sunlight. I was exceptional even for a grown up, let alone a 10 year-old. I didn't know my sister was this talented… and how come she didn't pursue this in my previous life?
I blinked. "When did you draw this?"
"Yesterday morning," she said proudly. "You looked like one of those anime heroes training for a tournament."
I laughed softly. "Thanks, Maki. You've got real talent. Keep it up."
She smiled, clearly pleased, and then whispered, "Mom said Dad's taking us to that place near the station. The one with pudding on the menu."
"Then you must be the happiest one here," I said, reaching out to ruffle her hair.
I finished my afternoon workout, showered, and put on my cleanest casual outfit—white shirt, navy shorts, sneakers still smelling faintly of detergent. When I walked out, Dad was already by the door, fixing his tie despite Mom insisting it wasn't necessary.
"You're overdressed for yakitori," I said.
He smirked. "And you're underdressed for attending your old man's success party."
The restaurant, Torishima Grill, was a small but lively place near Meguro Station. The smell of grilled chicken and soy sauce greeted us before the sliding doors even opened. We took a corner booth, the four of us squeezed in comfortably, laughter and sizzling sounds filling the air.
For a moment, I simply sat there, watching them all. Mom and Dad sharing quiet jokes about coworkers, Maki waving her chopsticks like a conductor, her eyes sparkling every time the waiter brought out something new. I couldn't remember the last time we'd done something like this together.
Halfway through dinner, Dad leaned toward me. "Your mother tells me you quit the team."
I paused, chopsticks midair. "Yeah. I decided to train on my own for a while."
He didn't scold me. Didn't even look surprised. He just nodded slowly. "You sure about that?"
"I am," I said firmly. "I've got a plan. I just need time."
He studied me for a long moment. "That's brave," he said finally. "Most kids would rather be seen than to actually put in the work." He smiled again. "Your mother tells me you've been eating well, too. Keep going. If you're serious about this, you'll have my support."
His approval landed in my chest like a warm stone. It wasn't a thunderclap, but it was steady—enough to fasten my breath.
Another silent second later, he smiled and said, "You sound much more mature than I was at your age. Just make sure you finish what you start, alright?"
"I will," I said, meeting his gaze.
Mom smiled softly. "Our son's growing up."
"Too fast," Dad murmured, though his eyes were filled with pride.
The rest of dinner passed in easy conversation and laughter. Maki devoured her pudding with a seriousness that rivaled my batting drills.
Walking back through the cool night air, the city lights shimmered in the distance, reflections dancing across the river. Dad carried Maki on his back as she dozed off midway, her head resting on his shoulder. Mom walked a few steps ahead, humming softly.
I lingered behind, hands in my pockets, letting the rhythm of their steps echo in my ears. This warmth, this quiet unity, it was something I hadn't felt in years in my previous life.
For a long time, I had thought that success would be defined by numbers, trophies, or applause. But now, looking at my family, happy and together, I realized it was these moments that gave everything else meaning. This was something I wished to have too. It was another form, another aspect of the success I wanted in this life.
'Don't worry. You'll achieve it all this time around.' With this thought I continued following them smiling at the idea of one day starting a family of my own.
When we reached home, Mom carried Maki to her room, and Dad went to change out of his suit. I stayed a while longer in the living room, glancing at the empty baseball glove resting on the shelf.
Tomorrow, the grind would start again. But tonight, for the first time in forever, I let myself just be—grateful, content, and quietly determined.
I turned off the lights, whispered the silent promise to myself again, and went up to my room.