[fiorio]
HEALING HOPES
by trensaddiction
Akiko never used to mind hospitals. In her youth, she had studied nursing; even flirted with the idea of going to medical school for a while before she met Kouyo and fate made other plans. There was a sense of hope that came with the scent of antiseptic, a feeling that here, life could be made better. In the wash of youthful idealism, Akiko had ignored the undercurrents of worry that lingered in every shadow of these halls. It was harder to ignore them now.
She carefully fixed her smile and picked through the pages of her magazine, staring at the words while her mind dutifully repeated all the more important things she'd meant to remember. The surgery would be delicate, but straightforward. The surgeons were highly skilled. The condition was minor, and had been caught in time. The growth was probably benign. Akira would be better once it was over... Akira, her son, was lying on a table, beyond her reach if anything went wrong...
Ah, no. That was not the image upon which concentrate.
Akiko sighed. It would be easier if she had someone to wait with. When Kouyo had had his heart attack, there had been so many people. Of course, the circumstances of his collapse had also been much more dramatic and terrifying, whereas this was far less life threatening.
“Just a small growth on my spine,” Akira had explained, and “They said it wasn't uncommon and that removing it should help with my balance. It's really nothing.”
Nothing at all to a boy of twenty, perhaps. Quite a bit more to his mother, who had been shocked to hear about it only the day before Akira was scheduled for surgery. If she had not thought to call him, it was likely he wouldn't even have mentioned it - every bit as stoic as his father before the heart attack. Still, she had called and he had mentioned it and so this morning at eight o'clock, she had been here to stand by him through the paperwork and needles of pre-op, despite all his protests that he'd never meant to impose upon her. Akiko had known better than to listen to him.
She gave up on the magazine, setting it aside and glancing at the clock on the wall. Almost nine. If everything were going according to plan, Akira would be fully anesthetized now, and the operation under way. My baby...
She shook her head, forcing her smile back into place. Perhaps she should call Kouyo, but no, he had a match today in Beijing. The cell phone that had materialized in her hand gleamed temptingly all the same. Akiko had called him last night, and they'd agreed that she would call again as soon as it was over. Calling early would only worry her husband, no matter how much she might like to hear his voice, but if he had not had a match, she might have done it anyway. The pale blue walls with their generic paintings had no sympathy to share with a mother.
Of course, wallowing in self-pity was not going to solve anything either. Tea might, though, and getting a cup would give her something to do. Akiko had just stood up with this goal in mind when a familiar face arrived from the hallway. It was not one she'd hoped to see.
---
In every child's life there came a time when he inevitably diverged from his parents. In Akira's case, the divergence had been a long time coming, but when it did it had caught Akiko entirely by surprise. It had also had bleached, blond bangs and the poor sense of timing that led it to kiss her son in the foyer one day just as she was arriving home.
There had been no explanations at the time. The situation had been quite clear enough without discussion, and really Akiko had not known what to say. Six months later, she was still unsure, so perhaps Akira's failure to communicate things like this surgery was not entirely his fault. The silence of that afternoon had stretched into so many other silences - when Kouyo asked after Akira's wellfare, when her sister asked if her son had found a nice girl yet. When her neighbor inquired about the identity of the “handsome young man your son is living with,” it had been easier to answer, “a colleague, Shindou Hikaru,” than “his boyfriend.” Still, she remembered the strange flavor of shame that the half-truth left in her mouth.
Akiko did not like to think of herself as prejudiced, but it was one thing to accept homosexuality in general, and quite another to realize that her dreams of sharing advice and confidences with a daughter-in-law would never be realized.
---
From her vantage point on the far side of the waiting room, Akiko had plenty of time to watch Shindou before he saw her. He was dressed in the sort of generic suit that suggested he'd had an early morning client, and wearing a backpack - which suggested he still had not quite learned how easily suits could wrinkle. Of course, his bleached bangs were another hint that he'd yet to grow into a truly professional comportment, and under other circumstances, Akiko might have found that fact charming.
Shindou's cheeks were a little flushed, as though he'd been running, but when he reached the nurses' station, he only paused a moment and did not actually speak with anyone there. His jaw tightened a little instead, and the young man turned away, clearly looking for a place to sit. When he spotted her, his smile was tentative, but he came right over anyway.
“Touya-san,” he bowed, and glanced at the empty chair across from hers.
“Shindo-san,” she acknowledged, nodding and sitting back down.
He smiled gratefully and dropped his backpack onto the floor, nudging it under the chair. Then he took off his suit coat with only slightly more care, draping it over the back of another empty chair before sitting. He glanced at the clock, and Akiko found herself looking too. Nine-fifteen.
They spoke in unison:
“So Touya-”
“Are you here to-”
-and stopped in unison as well. Shindou looked a little nervous, and Akiko knew she felt the same. Happily, there was politeness to fall back on, circumstances notwithstanding, and Akiko had played the hostess in stranger places than this.
“Please excuse me, Shindou-san, you were saying?”
“Um, sorry. I was just wondering if everything went okay this morning with Touya. I was gonna come with him...” he began, with a familiar regret.
“But you had a client,” she finished for him, knowing how it was.
Shindou seemed to relax a little, smiling cautiously. “Yeah. And he'd kill me if I skipped work just to come and hang around.”
It didn't cost her anything to smile back. “He's like his father: dedicated.”
“Obsessed,” Shindou muttered, eyes widening as he realized how she might take that. “Not that-”
But Akiko laughed lightly, and shook her head. “No, you're probably correct about that one. They are both a little obsessed with what they do.” She rather suspected Shindou was as well, but did not say so. Instead, she followed a minor curiosity. “You know, you could have asked the nurses about his progress.”
Shindou's smile went a little grim around the edges, but when he answered, his tone was light. “Nah. I'm not family. They wouldn't have told me.”
“Oh, yes, I suppose.” It was not as though the nurses would understand 'long time partners,' let alone 'eternal rivals.' Akiko had no such excuse though, and more to the point, she could recognize real concern when she saw it. “They took him into surgery about forty minutes ago,” she supplied. “Akira was very calm, although that was probably the drugs. The doctor said the procedure will probably take about two hours, and then another twenty minutes or so for the anaesthetics to wear off. After that, they'll be keeping him here for observation.”
“Yeah, that part he told me. Just 'til tomorrow, right?” He knew as much as she did - very probably more, considering his... relationship with her son. Still, she could not help but be charmed by his assumption that she still had some degree of maternal omniscience.
Akiko's smile softened a little. “That is what they tell me.”
Shindou nodded gratefully. He shifted in his chair, clearly attempting to relax a little, but his furtive glance at the clock betrayed him. When he saw her watching, the young man smiled, sheepish.
“I'm... not good at waiting.” As if that were not obvious.
Akiko settled back in her own chair and picked up her magazine in gentle demonstration. Shindou took a deep breath and then began rummaging in his back pack. The expected book of kifu never materialized, though. Instead, Shindou's preferred reading material proved to be a volume of shonen manga. Akiko felt her eyebrows lift, and her son's rival grinned.
“Yeah, I have terrible taste. Touya's always trying to get me to read smarter stuff...”
But Akiko was not quite ready to discuss her son's life with this particular friend. She gave him a bland nod and dropped her gaze to the boring pages of her magazine. After a few moments, she heard Shindou turn a page. She wondered whether he were having any more luck concentrating on his comics than she on her articles.
Even if she hadn't already finished the few pieces that actually interested her, Akiko doubted the magazine would have stood a chance. The air felt clammy with boredom, just as it had before Shindou arrived, but now the tension of waiting had a new sharpness to it. The silence felt too charged. It was silly of her, she knew, and petty as well and if Shindou had been any other colleague of her son's, she'd have offered him tea. A little tea and small talk would make the wait go by so much faster... Would small talk really be so impossible? Should it be? Regardless of whatever else Shindou might be to her son, he was a colleague. He was a rival. He was still the same thoughtful young man who had come to visit Kouyo, and she'd been grateful to him then. For that alone, she should owe him a cup of tea-
“Touya-san?” Shindou's voice made her look up quickly, surprised to see him standing. “Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt your reading and stuff. Just, I was gonna go get a drink and I wondered if you wanted anything.”
“Excuse me?” She wasn't entirely sure she had heard him over her own, very similar thoughts.
“Well, there's a vending machine at the end of the hall...” He gestured, and Akiko felt herself blush faintly to have been caught out in a failure of politeness by this boy.
She considered offering an equally polite refusal, but there was something in his face, his posture, that made her reconsider.
“I appreciate it, but it seems I could use a little walk myself,” she said, standing and smoothing her skirt. “Would you mind if I joined you?”
“No!” he said, quickly, “I mean, sure. I mean, you can come, if you want. I... well, that would be fine.” He was too eager, but there were enough nerves between them to more than justify it. Shindou truly did have a good heart.
Good hearts were rare enough to deserve a little effort.
When he gestured for her to go ahead, she started down the hall, but then slowed her steps to walk beside him. When they reached the vending machine, he asked her what she'd like, grinning a little at her choice.
“So that's where he learned it,” Shindou said, punching in the number. “I never used to like that brand, but these days we always have a six pack in the 'fridge.” He chose a second bottle of the same for himself. “I'm starting to like it, too,” he added, twisting off the lid and taking a long swallow.
Akiko followed suit, albeit with a smaller sip. Chugging sweetened tea was a little beyond the call of solidarity. Still, the sugar and the caffeine tasted good.
“I'm sorry to hear Akira's teaching you bad habits,” she offered, in a weak attempt at humor.
Shindou grinned. “Well, I got him to admit cup ramen's edible, so we're probably even.”
“Please tell me that's not all you've been eating.”
“Sometimes we go out for sushi? And one time Touya tried making veggie stir fry, but that really was inedible. He only thinks he can cook.” He saw something in her expression and faltered. “Not, er, that you didn't bring him up right or anything...”
She interrupted before he could dig himself any deeper. “No, no. I am not surprised Akira lacks kitchen skills. He was never very interested, after all, and I always assumed his wife would take care of it-” She froze in realization. “That is...” Shindou's face was already going guarded, and the sight sent her heart into her throat.
---
From the day she'd caught them kissing, this had been the thing she feared: not what the neighbors might think - she was secure enough in herself not to care too much about public opinions - but what her son must think of all her old hopes for him. With that one kiss, he'd become someone she did not really know, and the fear that the feeling was mutual cut sharply. Did he think of her as foolish? Did he think of her at all? Could he possibly understand her need for time to get used to the idea, and that it didn't mean she loved him any less, even though she did feel a little betrayed in the more selfish parts of her heart? And perhaps the worst question: what about Shindou Hikaru? It was clear that he'd captured her son's interest, perhaps even his love, but having done so, would he take Akira away?
That last would have plagued her even if Shindou had been a girl. There was always some friction between mothers and girlfriends, but if Shindou had been a girl, at least Akiko might have felt more assured of her footing. She'd been a girlfriend once herself, after all. Instead, her son had chosen his rival, with all the issues that entailed, and Akiko had dreaded even getting to know him, for fear she might say the wrong thing.
---
Like all dreaded fates, Akiko's had arrived without warning. Her comfortable assumptions had spoken before her brain could stop them, and now the person her son loved most - who was not her - might not forgive. At least, if she let the comment stand.
Shindou Hikaru was a boy, but not an alien. She'd been mother to a boy herself for twenty eventful years. That frozen look on his face was just defense, not condemnation. He was thinking of his own fears, not of her. He was twenty years old, but he was still a boy, and she was old enough to know better than to fear all hope was lost. Really, melodrama like that did not become a forty-six-year-old woman. She had misspoken, yes, but she did not have to leave it at that. She could still hold out an olive branch and hope he'd meet her half way. Akiko made herself smile.
“What I mean is, I'd hoped he'd find a... partner who might be better at it some day. Do you cook at all, Shindou-san?” She held her breath.
And mercifully, Shindou's smile returned, at least as relieved as her own. “My mom taught me how to make sukiyaki,” he said.
---
Conversation came more easily after that. They discussed sukiyaki and other recipes, especially when Shindou expressed an interest in simple meals that didn't involve pre-packaged noodles. When the discussion turned to Akira's favorite foods, Akiko made herself relax and appreciate the fact that Shindou seemed to pay attention to more than her son's go skills. She shared a story or two from Akira's early days, surprising a laugh out of Shindou over the revelation that Akira had refused to eat nori in any form until he was nearly six years old. Shindou promised to tease him over it, but admitted that his own least favorite food at that age had been mushrooms.
By the time eleven o'clock arrived, their conversation had progressed to tourism. Shindou had visited quite a number of the go-related shrines between Tokyo and Innoshima, but Akiko suggested a few other places she'd seen with her husband, as well as kifu libraries and museums in China that might interest a young pro with an interest in history. They'd gotten as far as the the Forbidden City when Shindou excused himself, citing too much tea.
It was while he was gone that the doctor came out to inform Akiko that the surgery had been a success. Utterly relieved, she accompanied him back to the recovery room where Akira would be resting as the anaesthetic wore off, but stopped abruptly in the hall.
“I'm sorry, I forgot something: could you please wait a moment?” She bowed, turning back as the doctor offered to have a nurse wait for her.
When Akiko reached the waiting room, Shindou was standing at the nurses' station, asking for and apparently being refused directions to Akira. She hastened over to the desk.
“Please excuse us for the confusion,” she interrupted smoothly, “but Shindou-san is family.” Then, as the duty nurse amended her chart and Shindou stared at Akiko like a fresh-caught carp, Akira's mother continued quietly, “at least for today? He would want you to be there.”
Shindou nodded quickly, but his surprise faded when she pointed the way down the hall to where a nurse was waiting to guide them. He strode in the nurse's direction without a second thought, clearly focused on seeing her son. Following more slowly, Akiko felt a little light headed, but happily so. The pale blue walls seemed more cheerful now and the antiseptic in the air once more smelled like hope.
by trensaddiction
Akiko never used to mind hospitals. In her youth, she had studied nursing; even flirted with the idea of going to medical school for a while before she met Kouyo and fate made other plans. There was a sense of hope that came with the scent of antiseptic, a feeling that here, life could be made better. In the wash of youthful idealism, Akiko had ignored the undercurrents of worry that lingered in every shadow of these halls. It was harder to ignore them now.
She carefully fixed her smile and picked through the pages of her magazine, staring at the words while her mind dutifully repeated all the more important things she'd meant to remember. The surgery would be delicate, but straightforward. The surgeons were highly skilled. The condition was minor, and had been caught in time. The growth was probably benign. Akira would be better once it was over... Akira, her son, was lying on a table, beyond her reach if anything went wrong...
Ah, no. That was not the image upon which concentrate.
Akiko sighed. It would be easier if she had someone to wait with. When Kouyo had had his heart attack, there had been so many people. Of course, the circumstances of his collapse had also been much more dramatic and terrifying, whereas this was far less life threatening.
“Just a small growth on my spine,” Akira had explained, and “They said it wasn't uncommon and that removing it should help with my balance. It's really nothing.”
Nothing at all to a boy of twenty, perhaps. Quite a bit more to his mother, who had been shocked to hear about it only the day before Akira was scheduled for surgery. If she had not thought to call him, it was likely he wouldn't even have mentioned it - every bit as stoic as his father before the heart attack. Still, she had called and he had mentioned it and so this morning at eight o'clock, she had been here to stand by him through the paperwork and needles of pre-op, despite all his protests that he'd never meant to impose upon her. Akiko had known better than to listen to him.
She gave up on the magazine, setting it aside and glancing at the clock on the wall. Almost nine. If everything were going according to plan, Akira would be fully anesthetized now, and the operation under way. My baby...
She shook her head, forcing her smile back into place. Perhaps she should call Kouyo, but no, he had a match today in Beijing. The cell phone that had materialized in her hand gleamed temptingly all the same. Akiko had called him last night, and they'd agreed that she would call again as soon as it was over. Calling early would only worry her husband, no matter how much she might like to hear his voice, but if he had not had a match, she might have done it anyway. The pale blue walls with their generic paintings had no sympathy to share with a mother.
Of course, wallowing in self-pity was not going to solve anything either. Tea might, though, and getting a cup would give her something to do. Akiko had just stood up with this goal in mind when a familiar face arrived from the hallway. It was not one she'd hoped to see.
---
In every child's life there came a time when he inevitably diverged from his parents. In Akira's case, the divergence had been a long time coming, but when it did it had caught Akiko entirely by surprise. It had also had bleached, blond bangs and the poor sense of timing that led it to kiss her son in the foyer one day just as she was arriving home.
There had been no explanations at the time. The situation had been quite clear enough without discussion, and really Akiko had not known what to say. Six months later, she was still unsure, so perhaps Akira's failure to communicate things like this surgery was not entirely his fault. The silence of that afternoon had stretched into so many other silences - when Kouyo asked after Akira's wellfare, when her sister asked if her son had found a nice girl yet. When her neighbor inquired about the identity of the “handsome young man your son is living with,” it had been easier to answer, “a colleague, Shindou Hikaru,” than “his boyfriend.” Still, she remembered the strange flavor of shame that the half-truth left in her mouth.
Akiko did not like to think of herself as prejudiced, but it was one thing to accept homosexuality in general, and quite another to realize that her dreams of sharing advice and confidences with a daughter-in-law would never be realized.
---
From her vantage point on the far side of the waiting room, Akiko had plenty of time to watch Shindou before he saw her. He was dressed in the sort of generic suit that suggested he'd had an early morning client, and wearing a backpack - which suggested he still had not quite learned how easily suits could wrinkle. Of course, his bleached bangs were another hint that he'd yet to grow into a truly professional comportment, and under other circumstances, Akiko might have found that fact charming.
Shindou's cheeks were a little flushed, as though he'd been running, but when he reached the nurses' station, he only paused a moment and did not actually speak with anyone there. His jaw tightened a little instead, and the young man turned away, clearly looking for a place to sit. When he spotted her, his smile was tentative, but he came right over anyway.
“Touya-san,” he bowed, and glanced at the empty chair across from hers.
“Shindo-san,” she acknowledged, nodding and sitting back down.
He smiled gratefully and dropped his backpack onto the floor, nudging it under the chair. Then he took off his suit coat with only slightly more care, draping it over the back of another empty chair before sitting. He glanced at the clock, and Akiko found herself looking too. Nine-fifteen.
They spoke in unison:
“So Touya-”
“Are you here to-”
-and stopped in unison as well. Shindou looked a little nervous, and Akiko knew she felt the same. Happily, there was politeness to fall back on, circumstances notwithstanding, and Akiko had played the hostess in stranger places than this.
“Please excuse me, Shindou-san, you were saying?”
“Um, sorry. I was just wondering if everything went okay this morning with Touya. I was gonna come with him...” he began, with a familiar regret.
“But you had a client,” she finished for him, knowing how it was.
Shindou seemed to relax a little, smiling cautiously. “Yeah. And he'd kill me if I skipped work just to come and hang around.”
It didn't cost her anything to smile back. “He's like his father: dedicated.”
“Obsessed,” Shindou muttered, eyes widening as he realized how she might take that. “Not that-”
But Akiko laughed lightly, and shook her head. “No, you're probably correct about that one. They are both a little obsessed with what they do.” She rather suspected Shindou was as well, but did not say so. Instead, she followed a minor curiosity. “You know, you could have asked the nurses about his progress.”
Shindou's smile went a little grim around the edges, but when he answered, his tone was light. “Nah. I'm not family. They wouldn't have told me.”
“Oh, yes, I suppose.” It was not as though the nurses would understand 'long time partners,' let alone 'eternal rivals.' Akiko had no such excuse though, and more to the point, she could recognize real concern when she saw it. “They took him into surgery about forty minutes ago,” she supplied. “Akira was very calm, although that was probably the drugs. The doctor said the procedure will probably take about two hours, and then another twenty minutes or so for the anaesthetics to wear off. After that, they'll be keeping him here for observation.”
“Yeah, that part he told me. Just 'til tomorrow, right?” He knew as much as she did - very probably more, considering his... relationship with her son. Still, she could not help but be charmed by his assumption that she still had some degree of maternal omniscience.
Akiko's smile softened a little. “That is what they tell me.”
Shindou nodded gratefully. He shifted in his chair, clearly attempting to relax a little, but his furtive glance at the clock betrayed him. When he saw her watching, the young man smiled, sheepish.
“I'm... not good at waiting.” As if that were not obvious.
Akiko settled back in her own chair and picked up her magazine in gentle demonstration. Shindou took a deep breath and then began rummaging in his back pack. The expected book of kifu never materialized, though. Instead, Shindou's preferred reading material proved to be a volume of shonen manga. Akiko felt her eyebrows lift, and her son's rival grinned.
“Yeah, I have terrible taste. Touya's always trying to get me to read smarter stuff...”
But Akiko was not quite ready to discuss her son's life with this particular friend. She gave him a bland nod and dropped her gaze to the boring pages of her magazine. After a few moments, she heard Shindou turn a page. She wondered whether he were having any more luck concentrating on his comics than she on her articles.
Even if she hadn't already finished the few pieces that actually interested her, Akiko doubted the magazine would have stood a chance. The air felt clammy with boredom, just as it had before Shindou arrived, but now the tension of waiting had a new sharpness to it. The silence felt too charged. It was silly of her, she knew, and petty as well and if Shindou had been any other colleague of her son's, she'd have offered him tea. A little tea and small talk would make the wait go by so much faster... Would small talk really be so impossible? Should it be? Regardless of whatever else Shindou might be to her son, he was a colleague. He was a rival. He was still the same thoughtful young man who had come to visit Kouyo, and she'd been grateful to him then. For that alone, she should owe him a cup of tea-
“Touya-san?” Shindou's voice made her look up quickly, surprised to see him standing. “Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt your reading and stuff. Just, I was gonna go get a drink and I wondered if you wanted anything.”
“Excuse me?” She wasn't entirely sure she had heard him over her own, very similar thoughts.
“Well, there's a vending machine at the end of the hall...” He gestured, and Akiko felt herself blush faintly to have been caught out in a failure of politeness by this boy.
She considered offering an equally polite refusal, but there was something in his face, his posture, that made her reconsider.
“I appreciate it, but it seems I could use a little walk myself,” she said, standing and smoothing her skirt. “Would you mind if I joined you?”
“No!” he said, quickly, “I mean, sure. I mean, you can come, if you want. I... well, that would be fine.” He was too eager, but there were enough nerves between them to more than justify it. Shindou truly did have a good heart.
Good hearts were rare enough to deserve a little effort.
When he gestured for her to go ahead, she started down the hall, but then slowed her steps to walk beside him. When they reached the vending machine, he asked her what she'd like, grinning a little at her choice.
“So that's where he learned it,” Shindou said, punching in the number. “I never used to like that brand, but these days we always have a six pack in the 'fridge.” He chose a second bottle of the same for himself. “I'm starting to like it, too,” he added, twisting off the lid and taking a long swallow.
Akiko followed suit, albeit with a smaller sip. Chugging sweetened tea was a little beyond the call of solidarity. Still, the sugar and the caffeine tasted good.
“I'm sorry to hear Akira's teaching you bad habits,” she offered, in a weak attempt at humor.
Shindou grinned. “Well, I got him to admit cup ramen's edible, so we're probably even.”
“Please tell me that's not all you've been eating.”
“Sometimes we go out for sushi? And one time Touya tried making veggie stir fry, but that really was inedible. He only thinks he can cook.” He saw something in her expression and faltered. “Not, er, that you didn't bring him up right or anything...”
She interrupted before he could dig himself any deeper. “No, no. I am not surprised Akira lacks kitchen skills. He was never very interested, after all, and I always assumed his wife would take care of it-” She froze in realization. “That is...” Shindou's face was already going guarded, and the sight sent her heart into her throat.
---
From the day she'd caught them kissing, this had been the thing she feared: not what the neighbors might think - she was secure enough in herself not to care too much about public opinions - but what her son must think of all her old hopes for him. With that one kiss, he'd become someone she did not really know, and the fear that the feeling was mutual cut sharply. Did he think of her as foolish? Did he think of her at all? Could he possibly understand her need for time to get used to the idea, and that it didn't mean she loved him any less, even though she did feel a little betrayed in the more selfish parts of her heart? And perhaps the worst question: what about Shindou Hikaru? It was clear that he'd captured her son's interest, perhaps even his love, but having done so, would he take Akira away?
That last would have plagued her even if Shindou had been a girl. There was always some friction between mothers and girlfriends, but if Shindou had been a girl, at least Akiko might have felt more assured of her footing. She'd been a girlfriend once herself, after all. Instead, her son had chosen his rival, with all the issues that entailed, and Akiko had dreaded even getting to know him, for fear she might say the wrong thing.
---
Like all dreaded fates, Akiko's had arrived without warning. Her comfortable assumptions had spoken before her brain could stop them, and now the person her son loved most - who was not her - might not forgive. At least, if she let the comment stand.
Shindou Hikaru was a boy, but not an alien. She'd been mother to a boy herself for twenty eventful years. That frozen look on his face was just defense, not condemnation. He was thinking of his own fears, not of her. He was twenty years old, but he was still a boy, and she was old enough to know better than to fear all hope was lost. Really, melodrama like that did not become a forty-six-year-old woman. She had misspoken, yes, but she did not have to leave it at that. She could still hold out an olive branch and hope he'd meet her half way. Akiko made herself smile.
“What I mean is, I'd hoped he'd find a... partner who might be better at it some day. Do you cook at all, Shindou-san?” She held her breath.
And mercifully, Shindou's smile returned, at least as relieved as her own. “My mom taught me how to make sukiyaki,” he said.
---
Conversation came more easily after that. They discussed sukiyaki and other recipes, especially when Shindou expressed an interest in simple meals that didn't involve pre-packaged noodles. When the discussion turned to Akira's favorite foods, Akiko made herself relax and appreciate the fact that Shindou seemed to pay attention to more than her son's go skills. She shared a story or two from Akira's early days, surprising a laugh out of Shindou over the revelation that Akira had refused to eat nori in any form until he was nearly six years old. Shindou promised to tease him over it, but admitted that his own least favorite food at that age had been mushrooms.
By the time eleven o'clock arrived, their conversation had progressed to tourism. Shindou had visited quite a number of the go-related shrines between Tokyo and Innoshima, but Akiko suggested a few other places she'd seen with her husband, as well as kifu libraries and museums in China that might interest a young pro with an interest in history. They'd gotten as far as the the Forbidden City when Shindou excused himself, citing too much tea.
It was while he was gone that the doctor came out to inform Akiko that the surgery had been a success. Utterly relieved, she accompanied him back to the recovery room where Akira would be resting as the anaesthetic wore off, but stopped abruptly in the hall.
“I'm sorry, I forgot something: could you please wait a moment?” She bowed, turning back as the doctor offered to have a nurse wait for her.
When Akiko reached the waiting room, Shindou was standing at the nurses' station, asking for and apparently being refused directions to Akira. She hastened over to the desk.
“Please excuse us for the confusion,” she interrupted smoothly, “but Shindou-san is family.” Then, as the duty nurse amended her chart and Shindou stared at Akiko like a fresh-caught carp, Akira's mother continued quietly, “at least for today? He would want you to be there.”
Shindou nodded quickly, but his surprise faded when she pointed the way down the hall to where a nurse was waiting to guide them. He strode in the nurse's direction without a second thought, clearly focused on seeing her son. Following more slowly, Akiko felt a little light headed, but happily so. The pale blue walls seemed more cheerful now and the antiseptic in the air once more smelled like hope.