The week after my “date” with Kiko was incredible in the smallest ways. It felt like we were friends, sending a few messages through the day, every time my phone vibrated bringing a smile to my face. Such mundane messages about the weather or how our days were, yet they were my precious love letters, cherished and held close, helping me through the “culture shock” of my new job.

When Sunday came around, I thought about offering to cook for her again before deciding against it. Love was scary. The more I indulged, the more I lost sight of why I’d come to Japan. More than anything, I didn’t want a day to come where I lied to myself that Mi was fine, that she didn’t need my help any more.

Mi and Himawari needed to come first.

So Kiko picked me up and we spent another fun morning with the kids. At the least, Kiko was less wary of me, so she brought along her marking to do. It was very sweet watching her and Himawari sit next to each other, focused on their respective homeworks.

Like a mother and daughter, I thought to myself, smiling.

When Himawari finished, I entertained her with the plasticine. We made a little movie about the mascot character she liked. Well, actually: “I don’t really like her, because the show’s for little girls, but my friend watches it,” was what Himawari told me.

I smiled to myself, wondering if she was making these movies for her friend. So sweet. Maybe because of my own situation, I thought about if she maybe had a crush on her friend. It was the sort of thing you’d naturally say if her friend was a boy, after all, an innocent crush. Reminded me of the “friend crushes” I had that, in retrospect, may have simply been “crushes”. Wanting them to be happy, wanting to monopolise them, changing what I liked to match them. Yellow had become my favourite colour because of a crush when I was… nine? Around that age.

Anyway, we made a little movie, then started on lunch. True to my word, we made macaroni gratin again, this time enough to save some for later in the week. I brought some bacon along for that serving, wary about reheating chicken—and so it was a little different. A tasty meal wasn’t as good when eaten twice a week. I’d also brought more ice-cream, this time asking Mi beforehand which flavours everyone liked. Oh she’d tried to tell me it wasn’t necessary and this and that and so I told her, “Either I’ll bring every flavour, or you can tell me what four you all like.” She still tried to cheat by saying her favourite was the same one as Himawari, which I knew was a lie since, you know, goddess body-swap magic, but I let her have that small victory. It wasn’t like she hated the flavour.

Another fun Sunday.

The week that followed was then normal enough until Mi called me one evening.

“What’s up?” I asked in English; I didn’t get to use it much day-to-day and, for us, it was more private if Himawari was eavesdropping.

“Well, you see,” Mi mumbled, and I could just imagine her sitting there, fretting.

So I giggled and said, “You know you can tell me anything.”

I heard her take a deep breath and let it out, the line crackling slightly at her exhale, making me wonder what could possibly be so hard to say.

“Um, Nat’s… friend is coming to Tokyo for a week with her big sister. So, you know, they’re going to… hang out… and she maybe asked if Sakura and I want to… come too.”

Her awkward shyness amused me to no end. “Oh, a double date? That sounds great.”

I heard her inhale this time, a second passing with no rebuttal, then finally a defeated mumble of, “Yeah.”

“So, you need someone to watch Hime-chan?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she mumbled, even quieter—guiltier.

Things clicking into place, my smile turned gentle. “It’s okay to want to do things. You don’t have to devote every single moment of your life to her,” I softly said.

It wouldn’t be enough to settle her conscience, I knew, but this was another little-by-little healing.

“I know,” she said without sounding any less guilty.

“Well, I’d be happy to, but I promised Toyama-san I wouldn’t visit without her,” I said.

“Oh.”

I waited a second and, no reply coming, said, “D’you want me to ask her?”

“…. Please,” she said.

Chuckling, I leaned back, my smile back. “What day? Saturday?”

Once that conversation wrapped up, I sent Kiko a message asking if she was free to talk. After a back-and-forth, I rang her, barely a ring getting off before she answered.

“So, what is it?” she asked, the sound of cars going past in the background.

“Are you out somewhere?”

She chuckled, so sweet. “I’m by the window,” she said, the cars growing quiet as I guessed she stepped away.

“Oh, well,” I said, taking a moment to get back on topic. “It’s like this: Mi-chan wants to go out with her friends and needs someone to watch Hime-chan, but I promised you—”

“Yes, I understand. You want to babysit her by yourself.”

My smile turning shy, I suddenly felt so nervous, heart pounding—as if I was asking her out for a date. “Actually, I want to know if you are busy Saturday. You can bring work to do and I’ll entertain Hime-chan. She would feel more comfortable with you there too, after all. Oh, but Mi-chan can ask Sakura’s mother or Hime-chan’s friend’s mother if you’re not,” I said, rushing that last bit.

A long few seconds passed in silence; I would’ve thought she’d disconnected if not for the slight static coming through.

“Okay,” she finally said.

“Really? You’re free?” I asked, the giddiness threatening to spill certainly not suitable for someone who had secured an afternoon of babysitting.

“Yes.”

The rest of the week, I was full of stupid excitement. It wasn’t like I expected anything to happen, just spending time with Kiko—and with Himawari. I found a “hobby shop” that sold plasticine and found videos online about doing stop motion and even bought the first season of the show the weird dog-cat thing was from, watching it before bed. (It really was for young girls, about magical girls who did stuff like clean up the mess after an “evil spirit” pushed a shelf over in a supermarket, which made it perfect for helping me fall asleep.)

At last, it was Saturday.

The kids still had school in the morning, so Kiko picked me up after lunch and we met them at Himawari’s school—she skipped her baking club. It was easy to see neither sister was happy about the situation, both trying to act strong for the other. Smiles with nothing behind them and eyebrows that couldn’t help but droop.

One last hug, Mi leaving a kiss atop Himawari’s head, and she quietly said, “I promise I’ll be back by dinner.”

It wasn’t my place, but it wasn’t going to become my place if I never stepped up, so that’s what I did, stepping to their side and patting both their shoulders. “We’ll be fine, have as much fun as you want,” I said. Looking down, I squeezed Himawari’s shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Hime-chan?” I asked with a smile.

She wasn’t that young, could understand some things that went unsaid and probably more than either Mi or I thought she did. Seeing my smile, she copied it and showed it to Mi, a bit of borrowed bravery.

“Yes, see you later,” she said, an ever-so-slight quiver to her voice.

Mi reached out to her, but hesitated, hand hovering in the air for a long moment before giving Himawari a last pat on the head. “See you later,” she said.

It would’ve been funny how dramatic they were over spending an afternoon apart if it wasn’t so heartbreaking. They were the only ones they could rely on, who knew the full extent of what they had suffered through. I wouldn’t be surprised if Himawari was always so excited when Mi came home because she’d spent the entire time home alone afraid that Mi had come to hate her and left her like her “parents” had.

My thoughts were interrupted there, Kiko reaching over to poke my shoulder. I looked at her and she shook her head, smiled, then glanced down. Understanding what she wasn’t saying, I squeezed Himawari’s hand.

“You know, I brought some more plasticine—should we continue our movie?” I asked.

She didn’t magically forget all the pain, but her smile looked more natural than polite and her voice had some energy when she said, “Yeah.”

Catching Kiko’s eye again, I mouthed, “Arigatō.”

She smiled back.

The rest of the walk to the car felt magical in the simplest way, both of us either side of Himawari, holding her hand—like a family. Well, I had the intention of adopting Himawari and Mi, but this was the first time it occurred to me that it didn’t have to just be me.

Wow, wasn’t that fantasy painfully bright. In an instant, I imagined countless family scenes of us like that. Eating dinner together. Sending off the other three to school. Snuggled in bed together, Mi and Himawari bringing us breakfast for mothers’ day.

A fantasy, though, and no more. I couldn’t expect her to take on this responsibility too, even if we did start dating. And maybe we couldn’t date if I took on this responsibility. That was possible too, and I wouldn’t blame her for it.

Well, that was if she was even interested in me that way at all, not like just because she was also (maybe) gay that she would like me.

My thoughts going to weird places, I went back to thinking of us as a family—only for this car ride. Mum and mum and daughter. I’d probably go by mum and Kiko by haha or another Japanese word for mother. Mama and haha?

At the house, there was a mild sadness to Himawari even after I had her distracted with plasticine. Now and then, she’d pause and look at Mi’s room. Codependent didn’t half describe them. As soon as I could, I needed to get them into therapy. Love alone couldn’t heal these deep, infected wounds.

The afternoon longer than the morning, we accomplished a lot and watched most of the anime’s first season when Mi’s message came, telling us she was on her way back. Didn’t that perk Himawari up. Although Sakura’s mother usually made dinner for them, today was different, so Himawari and I cooked. I checked with Mi first, then we set out to cook for everyone.

That “we” included Kiko, albeit her role consisted mostly of washing vegetables and setting out cutlery.

Again, it was nothing fancy, my skills hardly perfect after a few months, but it was tasty and healthy and Japanese: karē raisu, or curry with rice. Frozen prawns and a bunch of summer veggies and mushrooms (cut very small), perfect for growing children.

Best of all, Himawari smiled the whole time.

Soon enough, everything was cooked, kept warm in the pressure cooker, just waiting for the girls to get back. Quick to make, it was another anime episode’s wait before the muffled sound of chatting came from outside the front and Himawari was off in a flash.

I chuckled, following after, and caught her hesitating over whether to open the door yet.

“Go say hello,” I said.

She stilled for a moment, then didn’t even look back, opening the door and running out with her inside slippers still on. I could only shake my head. Looking over, I caught Kiko’s eye and we both burst into giggles.

Eventually, Mi made it in, Himawari clinging to her, friends in tow.

“Hime-chan told me she had a lot of fun,” Mi said, voice thick with emotion.

I looked down at Himawari and she tried to hide behind Mi, but quickly gave up and looked back, smiling. “Mm, I had a lot of fun too.” Looking up, I saw Natalie and her girlfriend holding hands, Sakura subtly pinching Mi’s shirt. “And it looks like you all had fun too.”

They each had their own interesting reaction to that, from Sakura’s lowered head with a blush while still firmly holding onto Mi’s shirt, to Natalie pulling her girlfriend over to loop an arm around her shoulder, to the girlfriend giving a sort of mischievous smile, to Mi’s awkward smile as she glanced at Kiko.

It was great we were all getting closer, little by little, day by day.