The afternoon sun leaned lazily against the rooftops as Ken, Sachiko, and Haruo stood outside the eatery with a printed checklist in hand. The second task had been crossed out just an hour ago, ink still fresh, and now a big red circle sat around the third one like it was the "final boss" in an old RPG.
"3. Family Reunion – Full Group"
Under it were scribbled names: cousins, nieces, nephews, and one granddaughter with a heart drawn next to her name.
Sachiko tapped the page with her pen. "This one… this one is the mountain we must climb."
Haruo puffed up his chest. "I've climbed plenty of mountains."
"You couldn't even climb the stairs yesterday without complaining," Sachiko shot back.
Ken tried to hold in a laugh, but Haruo pointed at him. "Don't you start. You're my accomplice in this."
"Right, right…" Ken sighed, pushing his hair back. "So… are they all coming? You contacted everybody?"
"Mostly," Sachiko muttered.
Ken paused. "Mostly?"
She gave him a small, nervous smile. "Well… some replied. Some didn't. Some left a thumbs-up sticker. One sent a picture of their dinner."
Haruo growled, "That was my cousin Hiroshi. He never listens."
For a few second it was tense before Ken broke the silent.
"Now… how about you two dressed up before we go?" Ken said, brushing a bit of dust off his sleeve while eyeing the couple with an approving grin. Sachiko paused mid-step, blinking at him as if the idea hadn't crossed her mind at all. Haruo raised an eyebrow like Ken had just suggested they run a marathon.
Ken pointed lightly toward their bedroom. "You know… something nice. Today's pretty important, right? Might as well show up with a bit of shine."
Sachiko slowly smiled, that soft, proud kind of smile she used to wear in old photos. "You're right… we should look presentable. It has been a while." She tapped Haruo's shoulder. "Come on, old man. Let's not embarrass ourselves in front of the children."
Haruo scoffed, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth gave away that he liked the idea more than he let on. "I suppose I can dust off that Jinbei. Haven't worn it since… what was it… I forget."
Ken chuckled. "Just wear that one. It may suits you."
Then Haruo grumbled something about "kids these days thinking they know fashion," but he still headed toward the back room with a faint spring in his step. Sachiko followed him, adjusting her hair with both hands, humming nervously like she was preparing for a school recital.
Before slipping behind the door, she looked back at Ken. "Give us a moment, Ken-kun. We'll surprise you."
Ken nodded and moved aside so they could pass, listening to their quiet chatter fade into the room–Sachiko fussing about colors and Haruo pretending not to care while clearly caring way too much.
A few minutes later the door slid open, and the two stepped out together, standing side by side like a pair of characters returning from a time when everything was still black and white.
"Wow, that fit is stunning for you two… like a nice old days couple." Ken stepped back to admire them properly this time, letting his eyes trace the careful details of their outfits. Sachiko's soft-colored yukata with its floral pattern made her look younger, almost glowing, while Haruo's simple but crisp dark-toned jinbei gave him the vibe of an old festival guardian who had seen every summer since the beginning of time.
The couple exchanged a shy glance, as if the compliment reached deeper than they expected. Sachiko lifted a hand, half embarrassed, smoothing the fabric at her sleeve while trying to hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "You're exaggerating, Ken-kun… we're just two wrinkly old folks trying not to look like lost tourists." Haruo gave a gruff but clearly pleased nod, adjusting the waistband of his jinbei as if Ken's comment had instantly made him stand taller.
"Hmph. Took me twenty minutes to tie this thing. I nearly strangled myself once."
"Twice,"
Sachiko corrected with a little laugh. "I saved him both times."
"Which means," Haruo said, puffing his chest a little, "I survived twice as many near-death encounters and still look this good."
Ken chuckled softly, wiping his palms on his pants. "Honestly, both of you look great. Really… it suits the day. People are going to think you're the hosts of the reunion, not just guests."
Sachiko's eyes warmed at that, almost melting for a second. Her hand reached for Haruo's arm, squeezing lightly–not for support, but affection.
"It's been so long since we dressed up for a family gathering," she whispered, almost to herself. Haruo nodded, quieter than before. "Makes you remember things… the good things."
Ken softened at the tone but didn't push. Instead he moved forward to adjust a small fold near Sachiko's collar, carefully fixing it the way she had shown him earlier. "There," he said gently. "Perfect."
Sachiko blinked, touched. "Ken-kun… you really are too kind."
"No," he replied with a small, warm shrug.
"Just returning the favor for all the meals and late-night lectures." Haruo snorted. "You deserved every lecture." But the old man's eyes carried gratitude underneath the teasing.
Ken gave them both a nod toward the door. "Shall we go then? The others should already be waiting," he said, his voice light but carrying that tiny thread of nerves that always came before meeting a whole bunch of people he'd never seen before.
Sachiko gave her obi a final tug and nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes, we shouldn't be late. They've probably been fussing since dawn, you know how my cousins are–half of them panic when the rice cooker clicks too loudly."
Haruo grunted in amusement as he slipped on his shoes. "If they've been waiting, they can wait a bit more. We moved slow even when we were young."
Ken chuckled under his breath. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me."
They stepped outside together, the afternoon light washing over the three of them. Ken locked the door behind them. Then the three of them continued, their footsteps falling into an easy rhythm–slow, steady, and oddly peaceful.
Ken followed behind Sachiko and Haruo as they walked through the quiet outskirts of Osaka, heading toward a large house that sat at the end of a sloped neighborhood road. It was the kind of place that already had noise spilling from the windows–laughter, clinking dishes, and someone shouting for another chair. The air felt charged, like a storm of relatives was waiting inside.
Sachiko looked strangely energized despite her condition. "This is the third one, remember," she whispered to Ken with a smile, "the big one."
Haruo straightened his Jinbei, took a steadying breath, and nodded. "Been too long since we've seen everyone together like this."
When they stepped through the gate, a handful of faces turned toward them. An elderly cousin broke into a grin immediately, rushing over with arms wide. "Sachiko! Haruo! You two finally made it!" Others followed, some in their forties, some younger, even a little girl running circles around everyone with a sparkler in hand despite it being early afternoon.
And naturally, the moment someone noticed Ken standing a little behind the couple, the questions came.
A middle-aged relative with a loud voice pointed at him. "Oi! Who's that young man? New boyfriend of someone?" A few others laughed.
Sachiko lightly smacked the man's arm. "Don't tease. This is Ken. He's been helping us lately."
Another relative–a woman in her thirties, stepped up, eyes bright with curiosity. "Helping you? With what?" Then she turned to Ken. "You good with computers or something? Or cooking?"
Before Ken could answer, Haruo lifted a hand calmly. "He's… family in spirit. He's been looking out for us."
That earned Ken a few surprised looks, a couple nods, and one enthusiastic greeting from an older uncle who clapped him on the back like they'd known each other for twenty years. "Good man! Anyone who helps these two is welcome."
One younger cousin, probably around Ken's age, leaned closer and whispered with a grin, "Don't mind the shouting. They're always like this. Welcome to the chaos."
The noise picked up instantly. Someone dragged out extra cushions. Another person yelled toward the kitchen that more tea was needed. A grandmotherly figure popped her head out of a sliding door and scolded everyone for not letting the guests sit first. All the while, the room kept filling with voices and warm breaths and the smell of simmering broth.
Sachiko and Haruo were swallowed immediately by hugs. A tall relative lifted Haruo slightly off the ground, making him cough and laugh at the same time. Sachiko was surrounded by nieces and cousins touching her shoulders, asking how she'd been, if she was eating well, if she needed anything. She waved them off with a soft smile, insisting she was fine.
Ken stood nearby, hands loosely folded, absorbing everything. For a moment he thought of his own parents–how gatherings like this used to feel–and that old ache pressed quietly behind his ribs. But then a little girl tugged his sleeve.
"Mister! Are you grandma Sachiko's friend?" she asked with wide eyes.
He nodded gently. "Yeah. Something like that."
She beamed, grabbed his hand, and dragged him toward a low table stacked with plates. "Then you sit here! Grandma likes people who eat a lot!"
The whole room burst into laughter when they heard that.
Plates of food appeared one after another. Bowls of miso soup, karaage, grilled vegetables, and a perfectly browned taiyaki someone insisted he try. Ken ate politely at first, but the family's energy was so overwhelming and warm that he eventually stopped holding back. It wasn't long before the loud cousin shouted across the room, "See! The kid's got spirit! Keep feeding him!"
Haruo sat across from him, chuckling. "Told you they'd like you."
As the afternoon rolled on, stories began flowing about Sachiko and Haruo's earlier years–their stubbornness, their generosity, their small everyday acts that had stayed in everyone's memories. Laughter kept breaking out every few minutes. Even the arguments had a warm edge to them.
At one point, a relative raised a half-filled cup. "It's been too long since we all sat down with you," he said to Sachiko and Haruo, his tone steadying. "Whatever happens next–today's important."
Sachiko squeezed his hand, grateful but calm. Haruo nodded with quiet agreement.
Ken noticed the subtle shifts–the way some relatives watched the couple with too much softness, the way certain smiles held a shadow behind them–but the room never dipped into sadness. Everyone tried to fill the day with life instead.
Near sunset, the family insisted on taking a group photo. The house buzzed with commotion as people arranged themselves. Ken attempted to step aside, not wanting to intrude, but Sachiko pulled him back by the wrist.
"You're part of this today," she told him with gentle firmness.
He didn't argue.
The camera timer beeped, people leaned in close, and the photograph captured a freeze-frame of warmth: arms tangled, kids giggling, elders smiling, Haruo giving a thumbs-up, Sachiko glowing with quiet joy, and Ken standing among them with a small but genuine smile of his own.
As the night settled and people began leaving in twos and threes, Ken helped clean up–carrying plates, folding cushions, gathering cups. Several relatives thanked him directly now, calling him by name, patting his shoulder, telling him to come again.
When he finally stepped outside with Sachiko and Haruo, the street felt calm and cool. They walked slowly, tired but fulfilled.
Sachiko looked up at the darkening sky. "That was… good."
Haruo slipped his arm around her waist. "More than good."
Ken walked beside them, hands in pockets, feeling lighter than he had in a while. The reunion had been loud, chaotic, messy–and absolutely alive. And for Sachiko and Haruo, it was one more piece of closure, one more moment of peace.
They continued down the quiet road, the laughter of the family still echoing faintly behind them, and Ken understood why this one mattered so much.