Accidentally become a father

~~~ • ~~~

"Morning, Yuna."

The voice came from the front door.

Yuna, who had just opened it, immediately stood up straight.

There—

Misaki.

Behind her were Mika and Hana.

Mika immediately stepped forward.

"Yuna!! Let’s go out!"

Her voice was full of excitement.

Hana chimed in.

"Yeah, Yuna... didn’t we already plan this?"

"The karaoke?" Yuna asked.

"Yeah!" Mika nodded quickly.

"But not just karaoke—we also want to go to the cat cafe, the park, to—"

She stopped.

Turned to Misaki.

"Where else, Sis?"

Misaki smiled softly.

"Let’s just head out first."

"We’ll see where else we want to go later."

Then she looked at Yuna.

"How about it? Want to come?"

Yuna hesitated for a moment.

Then looked back inside.

"Let me ask Papa first!"

She immediately ran inside.

Her little footsteps were quick.

"Papa!"

I was still sitting in front of the TV.

"Hmm?"

"Mika and Hana invited me to go out!"

"Miss Misaki is coming with us!"

She stood in front of me.

Her eyes were sparkling.

"Can I?"

I looked at her for a moment.

Then nodded.

"Sure."

She immediately broke into a wide smile.

"But don’t stay out too late."

"Okay!"

"Thank you, Papa!"

She immediately turned around.

Ran back to the door.

"I’m coming!"

"Wait, let me change my clothes first!"

She went back further inside.

_

I stood up.

Walked to the door.

...

They were still there.

Waiting.

Misaki turned her head as I approached.

"Morning, Itsuki-san."

"Yeah, morning."

We looked at each other.

Briefly.

Then both of us looked away.

Mika and Hana were busy in their own little world.

Whispering.

Letting out occasional giggles.

Misaki glanced inside the house.

For a second.

As if observing.

"..."

Then she looked back at me.

"Itsuki-san..."

"Hmm?"

"Do you want to come too?"

"To hang out."

I shook my head.

"No."

"I’ll just stay home."

She frowned slightly.

"Why?"

"Do you have work to do?"

"Not really."

Silence.

...

...

...

Her gaze changed.

Slightly... thoughtful.

I could guess why.

A modest house.

A small apartment.

Yesterday—

premium meat.

The contrast.

It was only natural for her to wonder.

"Hey, Misaki."

She snapped out of it.

"Hm? What is it?"

I stepped closer.

One step.

My hand reached up.

Touching her shoulder.

I leaned down slightly.

Getting closer to her ear.

"It seems..." I whispered softly,

"your head has been full of questions since you saw my house."

She instantly stiffened.

"N-No—"

"I know."

I cut her off gently.

Then whispered again.

"There’s no need to think about it."

I took a small breath.

"Yuna and I are doing fine. And this is just how I live."

I pulled away.

My hand dropped.

Taking one step back.

_

"Papa!"

Yuna returned.

Her clothes were neat.

Ready to head out.

I glanced at her.

Then back to Misaki.

Her expression had changed.

Slightly different from before.

From inside—

the sound of a game could still be heard.

A menu screen left unclosed.

"What were you doing just now?" Misaki asked.

"I heard a sound."

"PS," I answered.

"Yeah!" Yuna immediately chimed in.

"I was playing with Papa earlier!"

She pouted.

"...but Papa cheated."

Mika and Hana immediately turned their heads.

"What’s a PS?"

They asked almost in unison.

Yuna smiled.

"I’ll tell you guys later."

Misaki looked at me again.

Then—

"Itsuki-san..."

"Just come with us."

I shook my head.

"No, I’ll just stay home."

She was quiet for a moment.

Then gave a small nod.

"Alright..."

I almost turned around.

Then stopped.

"Oh, right."

I looked back.

"Look after Yuna."

"Don’t let her come home too late."

Misaki nodded.

"I understand."

She glanced inside the house one more time.

The sound of the game could still be heard.

"Next time..." she said softly,

"can I play that game with you?"

"If there’s time."

She smiled faintly.

"Alright."

She stepped back a little.

"We’ll be going, then."

"Bye, Mister!" Mika said.

Hana gave a small bow.

"Papa, I’m heading out..."

Yuna approached.

Bowed her head.

Her hands reached for mine.

Her forehead touched the back of my hand.

Salim.

"Hm. Be careful."

They turned around.

Started walking.

Footsteps fading away.

Their voices slowly disappearing.

_

I stood at the doorway.

Watching them go.

Until they disappeared at the end of the street.

.

.

.

I went back inside.

Closed the door.

Click.

_

The sounds of the house returned to normal.

But quieter.

___$

I stood in the middle of the room.

The TV was still on.

The sounds of the game were still playing.

"Haa..."

I let out a long sigh.

My head felt full.

Noisy.

I stepped closer.

Pressed the button.

Click.

Click.

The screen went black.

The PS powered off.

Silence.

Quieter than before.

But the noise in my mind only grew louder.

_

My hand reached up to the top of the cabinet.

Grabbed a notebook.

A writing notebook.

With a pen tucked into the side.

I sat down.

Leaned back.

Opened it slowly.

The first page that opened—

was full.

Slanted cursive.

Messy.

Some parts neat.

Others—

barely legible.

Scribbles.

Numbers.

Symbols.

Little notes in the margins.

Even I—

needed time to decipher my own handwriting.

I turned the page.

One.

Two.

Three.

Further back—

the denser it got.

Almost no empty space left.

Until finally—

a blank page appeared.

_

I took the pen.

Held it in the air for a moment.

Thinking.

The tip touched the paper.

I started writing.

Slowly.

Short.

Fragmented.

This month.

Summer.

Yuna.

Me.

Next line.

Monthly.

Daily.

School.

Food.

Then—

Bills.

My hand stopped for a moment.

Then moved down to the bottom of the page.

Stagehand.

Monthly.

Core.

Event.

I stared at it.

Silent.

For a few seconds.

...

Then—

Thud.

I tossed the notebook onto the table.

My hands went up to my head.

Messing up my own hair.

"Argh..."

I looked down.

"What’s the way out..."

_

I reached for my coffee.

Took a sip.

It tasted—

bitter.

I picked up the notebook again.

Opened it.

The same page.

The pen touched the paper once more.

Future.

The handwriting was neater this time.

Longer.

Overall expenses.

I stopped.

Drew a line.

Then wrote beneath it.

Covered by stagehand income.

Almost 100% of my monthly salary.

The tip of the pen paused.

A little longer this time.

Then moved again.

Savings haven’t grown these past few months.

Decreasing.

Emergencies → use savings.

I pressed the pen a little harder.

The ink looked thicker.

Savings:

1,800,000 Yen.

I stared at that number.

Silent.

A number accumulated over three years.

Slowly—

eroding.

In danger of continually decreasing.

I took a breath.

Wrote again.

Desires:

A stable life.

A house of our own.

The next writing—

pressed deeper.

Heavier.

Threatened.

_

"What’s the way out..."

I whispered softly.

The pen moved again.

What’s the way out

What’s the way out

What’s the way out

What’s the way out

The sentence filled the page.

Repeating.

Without pause.

Without pattern.

Until there was almost no space left.

I stopped.

My hand trembling slightly.

Took a deep breath.

Then—

wrote again.

Main problem =

...

The pen stopped.

For a few seconds.

Then—

I wrote one word.

Yuna.

I stared at it.

For a long time.

...

...

...

My hand moved.

Crossing it out.

Once.

Twice.

Over and over.

Until the word—

was no longer visible.

Covered in ink.

Unreadable.

I took a breath.

Deeper.

"No..."

I shook my head slowly.

Yuna wasn’t the problem.

Yuna—

was me.

A part of me.

I wrote again at the bottom.

Slower.

Without Yuna...

The pen stopped.

A few seconds.

Then continued.

Empty.

Without purpose.

Without drive.

A mess.

_

I turned the page.

A new page.

Blank.

Title.

Way out.

Beneath it—

Needs.

Solutions.

Capital.

Skills.

I stared at it.

For a long time.

...

Work somewhere else.

I wrote quickly.

Then—

stopped.

High pressure.

Inflexible.

I crossed it out.

"Impossible..."

_

The notebook dropped into my lap.

I leaned back.

Grabbed a cigarette.

Lit it.

A small flame.

The first puff of smoke escaped.

Then the second.

And the third.

I took a deep drag.

Exhaled slowly.

The smoke rose.

Hung in the air.

The longer I sat—

the thicker it got.

The room began to cloud with a thin haze.

Like something that refused to leave.

"A way out..."

I stared blankly ahead.

Then—

a thought surfaced.

Slowly.

Simple.

Ask someone with more experience.

I wrote down one word.

(Father)

The pen stopped.

_

I closed the notebook.

Slowly.

Stood up.

Placed it back on top of the cabinet.

Walked to the windows.

Opened them one by one.

The outside air rushed in.

Fresh.

Different.

I turned on the fan.

The smoke began to move.

Out.

Slowly fading away.

I stood there.

Looking outside.

Taking a deep breath of the air.

Exhaling.

"Haa..."

Silence.

Calmer.

But not yet over.

I stared off into the distance.

As if looking at something that wasn’t there.

It seems...

I need to go home.

To the village.

___

Meanwhile—

The sound of music filled the small room.

Colorful lights spun slowly.

A large screen displayed the lyrics of a song.

Yuna stood at the front.

Holding the mic.

A little stiff.

Mika had already taken her turn singing.

Full of energy.

Jumping all over the place.

Hana sat on the sofa.

Humming along quietly.

As for Misaki—

she leaned back casually.

Watching them.

"Yuna, your turn!" Mika called out.

Yuna stared at the screen.

The lyrics rolled.

She took a breath.

Then began to sing.

Her voice was soft.

But stable.

Not off-key.

Mika paused for a moment.

Turned her head.

"Eh... not bad."

The song ended.

A smattering of light applause.

Yuna smiled faintly.

Then sat down.

"Hey, Yuna," Mika approached.

"Why didn’t your dad come along earlier?"

Yuna shrugged.

"Mmm... maybe Papa doesn’t like singing."

She thought for a second.

"But..."

"Papa’s voice is good."

Mika was immediately intrigued.

"Seriously??"

Hana also turned to look.

"What’s it sound like?"

Yuna furrowed her brow.

Trying to explain.

"Like..."

She moved her hands.

"...hoo haa... dom bar... hoo haa..."

Misaki blinked slowly.

Confused.

"...What is that supposed to mean?"

Mika and Hana looked at each other.

Then nodded.

"Oh... I get it."

"Yeah, yeah... that one."

Misaki just stayed silent.

Still not understanding.

_

A while later.

They stepped out.

Moved to another place.

A cat cafe.

As soon as the door opened—

the atmosphere changed.

Calmer.

Warmer.

The distinct smell of animals.

And—

lots of cats.

"There are... so many cats..." Yuna muttered.

She stood near the door.

A little hesitant.

"They don’t scratch, right?" she asked quietly.

"No, they don’t," Misaki answered casually.

"They’re all tame."

"Look at this, Yuna!"

Hana was already sitting on the floor.

Surrounded by several cats.

Her hands petting them gently.

The cats looked perfectly comfortable.

Mika jogged over.

Scooped up a cat.

"I like this one!"

"I want to take it home!"

"You can’t do that, Mika."

"It belongs to this place."

"Aww... come on, sis..."

Yuna walked slowly.

Approaching a cat.

"Here, kitty..."

She reached out her hand.

The cat backed away.

Retreated.

"Come here..."

Yuna took a small step forward.

The cat turned around.

Walked off.

Yuna stopped.

Looked at another cat.

Approached again.

That cat also moved away.

One.

Two.

All the same.

None of them came close.

She turned her head.

Looking at her friends.

Mika—

laughing while hugging a cat.

Hana—

sitting calmly, cats in her lap and by her side.

Misaki—

with two cats in her lap.

Petting them slowly.

Calm.

Yuna looked down slightly.

"I want to..." she muttered softly.

"...pet a cat too."

She walked toward Hana.

"Hana..."

Hana turned.

Immediately understood.

"Oh... here."

She lifted one of the cats.

Offered it to Yuna.

"Here you go."

Yuna reached out her hand.

Slowly.

Almost touching it—

"Nya!"

"Ah—"

The cat scratched her.

Fast.

A reflex.

Yuna pulled her hand back.

"Ow..."

A red line appeared.

A little blood welled up.

"Yuna!"

Hana immediately panicked.

Let go of the cat.

The cat ran off.

Hana grabbed Yuna’s hand.

"Are you okay?!"

"I’m... okay..."

Yuna’s voice was quiet.

A single tear fell.

Misaki had already stood up.

Approached.

Looked at the scratch.

Without saying much—

she turned around.

Went over to the staff.

Spoke for a moment.

Then returned.

Bringing a band-aid.

"Here."

She held Yuna’s hand.

Cleaned the scratch.

Her movements were gentle.

Careful.

She applied the band-aid.

"There. It’s fine. It’ll heal in no time."

Yuna just nodded.

Silent.

_

Afternoon.

At home.

The door opened.

Creak.

Yuna stepped inside.

Her footsteps were slow.

Inside—

I was sitting.

At the table.

My left elbow propping up my head.

My right hand holding a cigarette.

My eyes were on the clock.

Tick... tick... tick...

The sound of the hands was clear.

Small footsteps approached.

I glanced over.

Yuna.

Her head was bowed.

"Welcome home..." I said softly.

"What’s wrong?"

"I’m home, Papa..."

She walked closer.

Right up to me.

Then—

thud.

She dropped to her knees.

Her body slumped forward.

Her face pressed against my thigh.

"What is it..."

"Tell me."

"Papa..."

Her voice was weak.

"Yeah..."

She completely slumped over now.

Her head resting in my lap.

"I went to a cat cafe earlier..."

"Hmm..."

"I wanted to pet a cat..."

Her voice trembled.

"...but none of them wanted anything to do with me..."

I stayed silent.

Listening.

"They all walked away..."

"Ran..."

"...and scratched me..."

Her hand lifted.

Showing the band-aid.

Then dropped again.

"Oh..."

My hand moved.

Stroking her hair.

Slowly.

"There, there..."

"It’s alright."

She started to cry softly.

Sniffling.

My hand didn’t stop.

Rubbing gently.

Comforting.

Quiet.

Only the sound of breathing.

And soft sobs.

"Come with me tomorrow."

She paused.

Slightly.

"Where...?"

"To my father’s place."

She turned her head.

Looked up at me.

Her eyes were still wet.

"Papa’s... dad’s place?"

"Grandpa’s?"

"Yeah."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

Her expression changed.

Slowly.

The sadness faded.

Replaced by—

something lighter.

Her head returned to my lap.

Her eyes began to close.

A small smile appeared.

"I like it... when Papa pets my head..."

I heard her.

But didn’t answer.

My hand kept moving.

Slowly.

Rhythmically.

Inside my chest—

there was something warm.

Quiet.

But I could feel it.

~~~ • ~~~