I should mention that this wasn’t my first time going back to my hometown.

When my old man carked, I decided to go to his wake with my uncle. Anzu-chan was sick, so she and my aunt couldn’t come.

The wake was held in a funeral home, as wakes usually were. As a direct member of his family, I sat in the very front row, right in front of his casket. The whole place reeked of nauseating incense.

From front to back, it was packed with men, women, and even some children, all dressed in black. Yet, I could hardly recognize a single face within the crowd. Likewise, I went through the whole thing with barely anybody recognizing me as the son of the deceased.

I spent most of the wake as an uneasy, fidgety mess. It was strange to face the portrait of my old man which rested upon his decorated casket. 

The first time I looked at his portrait, I had no doubt in my mind that the man pictured within was my old man. He looked how I remembered, though a bit older. However, as the wake went on, as the black masses wept and prayed, my doubts engulfed the portrait. I wondered whether or not that was even his face and whether or not he even bore a resemblance to my uncle or me.

His face was plainly portrayed within the photograph, yet the longer I looked at it, the less I recognized it.

Was that really my old man?

Was that really the man who raised me for the better part of a decade?

My head continued to swirl as the ceremony went on.

The sutras went through one ear and out the next. I said my prayers, but I couldn't understand the words coming out of my mouth. The alien faces of those gathered blurred and blended together, their inaudible mutterings and whispers like a radio underwater.

I didn’t understand why I was here.

Why was I dressed in black?

Why did I have front row seats to see the portrait of a stranger?

Sweat oozed out of every inch of my body. Breaths could hardly escape my constricted chest. In this bewildered state, one sentence rang inside my muddled mind like a tolling bell.

“What the hell am I doing here?”

I hoped my uncle could somehow catch onto my distress and whisk me away, but his gaze was fixed on his brother’s portrait... However, there was no mourning in it. He glared a hole through the photograph.

There wasn’t a single tear in his eyes.

I felt a bit relieved.

My old man was a local celebrity, a hometown hero. It was no wonder that his funeral would have such a large turnout. Everybody present cried for him, save for me and my uncle. To them, they lost a chivalrous, just, and kind Samaritan. He was a paragon of virtue who brought joy and happiness to his community.

On the other hand, I only lost a bit of my mind.

I was never around for any of what my old man was praised to high hell for. To me, he was nothing but a man who was never there.

Who never cared.

Who bothered not to spare me a passing glance. 

I thought I could come to some sort of understanding by attending this whole thing, but I left more confused than when I came in.

Instead of staying over for a vigil, my uncle decided to take me back to the hotel we were staying in. He noticed I looked pale, chalked it up to fatigue from the commute here, and decided to let me rest for the night.

We didn’t speak a single word in the car ride back, with only the songs on the radio filling the silence between us. My uncle disliked loud music, so the radio was dialed down pretty low. It was summer, but the weather that night was a slight drizzle. I laid down on the back seat of the car with my arm over my eyes, soaking in the muffled pitter-patter of rain droplets.

I plopped right onto the bed as soon as we got back to our room.

The ceiling twisted and contorted as if it were a cyclone, so I flipped over to my side and closed my eyes. My uncle sat at my bedside and rested his hand on my shoulder.

“You alright, So-chan?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just a little… under the weather, I guess. The incense was a little too much for me…”

“Mhmm.” My uncle nodded.

I opened my eyes to see that my nausea had faded somewhat.

I pulled out my phone to see a LINE message pop up as I turned on the display. It was a simple message of condolences. A little late, but whatever.

My finger quivered over the message preview. I took a deep breath, built up my resolve, and replied to the message.

“Thank you… I’m alright. I appreciate the concern. You take care of yourself too, okay? Night.” I replied.

I shut off the display and closed my eyes.

“You think you can come tomorrow, So-chan?”

“Hmm?”

“The funeral. You think you can come?”

“I think I’ll pass…”

My phone vibrated. There was another message.

“Good night.” It simply said.

“You sure you’re alright, So-chan?”

I let out a sigh.

“Nothing to worry about, uncle.”

“Hmm… Okay, So-chan. I’ll tell everyone else you’re sick, okay? The funeral’s tomorrow, but you think you can make it to the cremation and burial?”

Some sort of fuse lit within me.

“No…” I covered my eyes with my arm.

“So-chan…”

“I won’t pick the bones of a stranger.”

I let out a gasp right as I said that and pursed my lips.  Though I couldn’t see my uncle’s expression, I imagined that it must have looked like he was faced with a spoilt and shameless child. However, all he did was take in a deep breath.

“Okay, So-chan… Sorry for bringing you here.”

“No… I shouldn’t have decided to come in the first place. I thought I could learn or come to understand something about my old man or something like that… Haha…” I flipped over away from my uncle.

I made one hell of a face and I didn’t want him to see it.

After a moment of thick silence between us, my uncle spoke once more.

“Ah, yes.” he rustled for something in his pocket.

He pulled out a crumpled-up envelope and handed it to me.

“It’s Genzaburou’s will.”

I shot a puzzled glance before grabbing the envelope from his hand and taking out the piece of paper contained within. It was damp from the rain and smelled like our detergent.

Written in calligraphy-like characters, the contents of the paper stated just three things. The first was for me to inherit all of his fortunes, the second was that I was to inherit the house and shrine he left behind, and the third was for nobody to alter his room from the state it was in when he last lived in it.

I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I handed the will back to my uncle for him to read.

He scanned the paper’s contents, his face twisted in confusion at what he read.

“You’re trying to be a father now, huh? Is this your idea of redemption…?”

My gaze retreated to the floor. He took the words right out of my mouth.

“Well, that aside…” my uncle said as he clapped.

“That aside?”

“You can stay in the hotel, So-chan. I’ll tell everyone you came down with something nasty, so don’t worry about it. Truth be told, I don’t wanna attend these things either!” he shrugged with a grin.

“That so, huh…?” I rested my chin on my hand.

“But adults have adult responsibilities and images to uphold, you know? You gotta do what you gotta do. It can’t be helped.”

“Remind me to never grow up…”                               

My uncle let out a roaring cackle.

“You must be starving, right? Wanna go get some room service?” he asked.

“I’d rather get some takeout, to be honest. I can hardly read a single thing on the menu.”

“Takeout?! We can finally get some good food and you still want takeout?” he flailed his arms.

“I’m a lot more familiar with ramen than with whatever the hell a… ‘Zürcher Geschnetzeltes’ is.” I read off the room service menu.

“You’ll never know what that is if you don’t try, So-chan! By the way, that’s a Swiss veal stew made with wine, cream, and mushrooms. It’s got a nice, smooth, and rich flavor to it.”

“Say that again while looking at the price tag, uncle. You could buy a nuclear winter’s worth of ramen with that.”

“Hmm… I guess you’re right, but I call dibs on where we’re getting the takeout from, okay? One thing I won’t compromise on is taste!” my uncle said as he pulled out his phone.

Just like that, without another mention of my old man, we spent the night without a care in the world. Before long, it was the next day and the next and as usual, I was a damp ‘ol sponge in the morning.

Well, that was just an old story. Coincidentally, it was also what I dreamt of the first night I spent at my childhood home.