"Are you sure this is a good idea?"
Ayumi stood in the bedroom doorway, watching Hiroshi fold clothes into their suitcase. Her hand rested on her stomach, which was still flat and hiding the secret growing inside.
Hiroshi looked up, adjusting his glasses. "Your parents have been asking us to visit for months. And honestly, I think getting away from the city for a few days would be good for all of us."
"I know, but with everything that happened—"
"Especially because of what happened." He set down the shirt he'd been folding and crossed to her, taking her hands. "Kori needs a distraction, something to take his mind off the accident. We can just be a family celebrating New Year's in the countryside."
Ayumi bit her lip, considering. The nightmares were still waking Kori up at night. She'd heard him in the backyard at 2 AM two nights in a row, using his quirk to process emotions he couldn't say.
But Hiroshi was right. Staying in the city, walking past the intersection where it happened, seeing the local news coverage, it wasn't helping.
"And," Hiroshi added carefully, "you could use the distraction too, with the stress pregnancy, your mother's cooking, and your father's stories might be exactly what we all need."
She smiled. "Ma cooking does fix everything."
"See? And we can tell them about the baby when you're ready. After the first trimester, like we planned."
Ayumi took a deep breath, then nodded. "Okay. Let's go. But we're not telling them about the accident. I don't want to worry them, and I don't want Kori to have to relive it by explaining it to people."
"Agreed. This trip is about moving forward, not dwelling on the past."
They finished packing together, pulling out the traditional shrine clothes they'd need for the New Year's visit. Ayumi held up the small hakama she'd bought for Kori last year, wondering if it still fit. He'd grown so much.
"How long should we stay?" she asked.
"I was thinking six days. Gives us time to actually relax, celebrate New Year's properly, visit the shrine, let Kori run around in the countryside."
"Six days of fresh air and family does sound nice." She said.
I was on the living room floor with Bobby, teaching him to sit on command, when my parents came downstairs with suitcases.
"Kori, we need to talk to you about something," my mother said, settling onto the couch.
I looked up from where Bobby was ignoring my instructions in favor of chewing my shoelace. "About what?"
"How would you feel about taking a trip? To visit your grandparents in the countryside?"
I blinked. "I have grandparents?"
My father laughed. "Of course you do, your mother's parents live in Ogaki, a few hours from here."
"I've never met them." I searched through Kori's memories, but only found vague impressions of elderly faces when I was an infant, which was nothing concrete.
"You were very young the last time we visited," my mother explained. "Barely one year old. They've been asking us to come back, and with New Year's coming up, we thought it would be nice to celebrate with family."
"How long would we be gone?"
"Six days. We'd leave today, come back after New Year's, and you could bring Bobby, if you want. Your grandmother loves dogs."
The idea of leaving the city appealed to me more than I wanted to admit. The past five days had been suffocating. Getting away from Musutafu, even temporarily, sounded like relief.
"Can Bobby really come?"
"Of course. We'll bring his food and toys. He'll love running around their property."
"Then yeah. I want to go."
My parents exchanged a look, relief mixed with something else I couldn't identify.
"Great! Go pack your clothes. We'll need warm things and your shrine clothes for New Year's Day. We're leaving in an hour."
I headed upstairs, Bobby trotting after me. I pulled out my backpack and started packing. Clothes, toiletries, Bobby's favorite toys. My mother came in to help, adding things I'd forgotten, a toothbrush, extra socks, and the formal hakama for the shrine visit.
"Have you ever been to Ogaki?" I asked while she folded my clothes with practiced efficiency.
"Many times when I was young. It's beautiful, mountains, forests, and traditional buildings. Very different from the city." She smiled at some memory. "Your grandfather values hard work and tradition, and your grandmother is a kind person. You'll like them."
"Do they have quirks?"
"No. They are both quirkless. They're from a generation where that was much more common." She smoothed down a wrinkled shirt. "They might seem old-fashioned to you, but they're good people."
I nodded, filing away the information.
"All packed?" my father called from downstairs.
"Almost!"
We finished quickly. I grabbed Bobby, my backpack, and headed down.
The car was already loaded with our suitcases and a cooler full of snacks for the drive. My father was checking the GPS, muttering about traffic.
"Four to five hours, depending on conditions," he announced. "We should arrive around dinnertime."
My mother settled into the passenger seat while I climbed into the back with Bobby. The puppy immediately started exploring, sniffing at the seats, and trying to look out the windows.
My father started the car, and we pulled out of the driveway.
The first twenty minutes passed in relative silence. My parents talked quietly about route options and whether they'd packed everything. I stared out the window, watching Musutafu slide past.
We passed the intersection. I didn't mean to look. But my eyes found the spot automatically. The street had been cleaned, and the ice had long melted.
My hands clenched in Bobby's fur. He whined softly, pressing closer.
"Kori?" My mother had turned around, concerned. "You okay?"
"Fine. Just thinking."
She didn't look convinced but didn't push. Just turned back around, exchanging another one of those glances with my father.
Once we left the city limits, the tension in my shoulders started to ease. The buildings gave way to smaller towns, then to the countryside. Rice fields stretched out on either side of the highway, covered in snow.
"I spy something..." my father started, his voice deliberately cheerful, "...white."
My mother laughed. "The snow, Hiroshi? Really? Everything is white."
"Fine, fine. Your turn."
"I spy something that won't sit still."
I looked down at Bobby, who was now trying to climb onto the center console. "That's not fair. Bobby's the only moving thing back here."
"Correct! Your turn, Kori."
I scanned the landscape rolling past. "I spy something... green."
"The trees," my mother guessed.
"Nope."
"The sign?" my father tried.
"Nope."
"Give us a hint," my mother said.
"It's alive."
They guessed for the next ten minutes, moss, plants, someone's quirk, a passing car, before I finally revealed it was the traditional tea fields we'd passed, their leaves still green despite winter.
The game continued, and it was exactly what I needed. We moved on to other road trip games, twenty questions, the alphabet game, and making up stories about other drivers as we passed.
"That guy in the blue truck," my father said, "is actually a retired hero who now delivers tofu to remote villages."
"And that woman in the red car," my mother added, "is a secret agent transporting classified documents disguised as grocery bags."
"That bus," I contributed, "is full of students going to a secret quirk training facility hidden in the mountains."
Bobby contributed by falling asleep, snoring softly in my lap.
We stopped once for gas and bathroom breaks. My father bought coffee, my mother got tea, and I got a hot chocolate that actually tasted good. We let Bobby run around the grass near the rest stop, stretching our legs before getting back on the road.
The landscape changed as we drove. Flatter areas gave way to rolling hills, then to mountains in the distance.
"We're about an hour out," my father announced, checking the GPS.
The towns got smaller, more traditional. There were also fewer people with visible quirk mutations.
"This is Ogaki?" I asked as we passed through a town that looked like it belonged in a period drama.
"The outskirts," my mother said. "Your grandparents live a bit outside the main town. More rural."
We turned off the main road onto a smaller one, then onto a dirt road that wound between fields and clusters of traditional houses. The sun was setting, painting everything in shades of orange and gold.
Finally, we pulled up to a house that looked like it had stood there for a century. It was made out of dark wood and white walls, also a small garden in front.
"We're here," my mother said softly, something like nostalgia in her voice.
We got out of the car. Bobby immediately started sniffing everything, tail wagging like always.
The front door opened before we could knock.
An elderly woman stood there, small and sturdy, with gray hair pulled back in a neat bun and warm eyes that crinkled at the corners. She wore a simple kimono and an apron, and her face lit up when she saw us.
"Ayumi! Well ain't this somethin'! Finally came to see yer old ma!" She moved forward, pulling my mother into a tight hug. "Been missin' ya somethin' fierce!"
"Hi, Mama. I've missed you, too."
My grandmother released my mother and turned to my father, bowing slightly. "Hiroshi-san. Right kind of ya to bring our girl all this way."
"It's our pleasure, Okaasama. Thank you for having us."
Then her eyes found me, and her expression melted into pure joy.
"And this here must be little Kori! Well, I'll be! Look how big ya got!" She knelt down, which was impressive flexibility for someone her age, and cupped my face in her hands. "Ain't ya just the handsomest thing! And them eyes! Like ice crystals, they are!"
Before I could respond, she pulled me into a hug that smelled like cooking and soap and something floral.
"Grandma, you're squishing him," my mother said, laughing.
"Course I am! Ain't seen this boy since he was just a babe!" She released me but kept her hands on my shoulders, studying my face. "Spittin' image of yer mama at this age. Always thinkin' on somethin', same serious look an' all."
"Um. Thank you?"
She laughed, "Come on inside now, all of ya! Must be plumb tuckered out from that long drive. And who's this here?"
Bobby had wandered over, curious about the new person.
"That's Bobby," I said. "My dog. Mom said we could bring him."
"A Husky! Well now, perfect for a boy with an ice quirk like yerself!" She bent down to pet him, and Bobby immediately rolled over for belly rubs. "Ain't he just the sweetest pup!"
"Come on, let's get inside before we freeze," my mother said.
We gathered our bags and followed Grandmother into the house. The interior was exactly what I'd expected, traditional Japanese style with tatami mats, sliding shoji doors, and low furniture. But it was warm and lived-in, with family photos on the walls and the smell of something delicious cooking.
An elderly man sat at a low table in the main room, reading a newspaper. He looked up when we entered, and his stern face softened slightly.
"'Bout time ya came to visit," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.
"Hello, Otousan," my mother said, bowing respectfully.
He stood up; he was taller than Grandmother and was lean with sharp eyes behind his glasses.
"Hiroshi," he acknowledged my father with a nod.
"Thank you for having us, sir."
"Hmph. Took ya long enough." But his eyes were warm when they landed on my mother. "Yer lookin' thin. Chiyoko will fix that right up."
"I'm fine, Otousan."
"We'll see 'bout that." He turned his attention to me. "So this here's the boy?"
"This is Kori," my mother confirmed. "Kori, greet your grandfather properly."
I bowed, deeper than I normally would, sensing this man valued formality. "It's an honor to meet you, Ojiichan."
"Good posture. Yer folks are teachin' ya proper respect, I see." "Heard tell ya got an ice quirk."
"Yes, sir."
"Strong one?"
"Getting stronger, sir."
"Hmm. Power ain't worth spit without discipline. Ya got discipline, boy?"
The question caught me off guard. "I... I try to, sir."
"Tryin' ain't the same as doin'." But there was approval in his tone. "We'll talk more later. For now, yer guests. Chiyoko got food ready."
He moved to the kitchen area, where Grandmother was already pulling out sake bottles and cups.
"Hiroshi, Ayumi, come sit. Have a drink with this old man."
My parents joined him at the table while Grandmother fussed with the sake, pouring generous amounts into small cups.
"To family," Grandfather said, raising his cup.
"To family," my parents echoed.
They drank, and I could see some of the tension drain from my mother's shoulders. Being here, with her parents, seemed to ease something in her.
Grandmother appeared next to me, smiling. "Come on now, Kori. Let me show ya where ya'll be sleepin'. And that sweet pup can come along too."
I followed her down a hallway lined with more family photos. She slid open a shoji door to reveal a small room with tatami floors, a futon already laid out, and a window overlooking the garden.
"This here was yer mama's room when she'd lived as a little girl," Grandmother said. "Hope it suits ya just fine."
"It's perfect. Thank you."
She knelt down, her movements still spry despite her age, and looked at me seriously. "Yer mama seems right stressed. Yer papa too. Somethin' goin' on back home?"
"Just busy with work and school," I said. The lie came easily.
"Mm-hmm." She didn't look convinced but didn't push. "Well, yer here now. Time to rest and be with family. That's what New Year's is for, leavin' the old troubles behind and startin' fresh."
She patted my head gently, then stood. "Ya can explore the house if ya like. Dinner'll be ready in 'bout an hour. Oh, and there's someone else here ya should meet."
"Someone else?"
"Our foster daughter, Shouko. She's sixteen and she'll be joinin' us for dinner."
Before I could ask more, Grandmother bustled back toward the kitchen, already calling instructions to my mother about helping with the food.
I set my bag down and looked at Bobby. "Well, boy. Want to explore?"
His tail wagged happily.
The house was larger than it looked from the outside, with several rooms branching off the main hallway. Most were low tables, floor cushions with minimal decoration. But one room at the end of the hall had a closed door, which had to be Shouko's room.
I approached slowly, Bobby following beside me. The door wasn't fully closed, just pulled most of the way shut. I could hear music playing softly inside, something pop-rock with a fast beat.
Curiosity won out over politeness. I nudged the door open and peeked inside.
The room was a stark contrast to the rest of the house. Posters of bands and heroes covered the walls. A small TV sat on a low dresser, manga volumes stacked haphazardly beside it. Clothes were draped over a chair.
And sitting cross-legged on the futon, scrolling through her phone, was presumably Shouko.
She had long, dark hair that fell past her shoulders in a straight, sleek curtain. Her face was delicate. She looked up from her phone the moment I pushed the door open. She wore casual clothes, an oversized sweater, and leggings.
"The hell?" she said. "Who are you?"
"Um, Kori. Ayumi's son? I'm visiting."
"Oh! Right, Grandma said someone was comin'." She set her phone aside and stood, revealing she was taller than I'd expected. "My bad. Thought y'all were comin' tomorrow or somethin'. Lost track of time."
She started walking toward me, probably to introduce herself properly, but Bobby chose that moment to bark and run into the room, investigating this new space.
"You brought a dog! Oh my god, he's adorable!" Shouko's entire demeanor changed, dropping to her knees to pet Bobby. "What's his name?"
"Bobby. He's a Husky."
"He's so fluffy! How old?"
"Eight weeks."
She looked up at me, grinning. "You're livin' my dream, kid. Been beggin' Grandma and Gramps for a dog for years now."
She stood up, dusting off her knees. "So, Kori. You're what, six? Seven?"
"Six."
"Cool. I'm Shouko, and like, way cooler and older than you."
Despite everything that's been going on, I felt my lips twitch into a small smile.
"Way cooler," I agreed dryly.
She laughed. "Oh, you're a smartass. I like that. Most kids your age are either annoyin' or scared of me."
"Why would they be scared of you?"
"'Cause I'm tall and loud and got opinions." She flopped back onto her futon. "Also 'cause I'm in foster care, and apparently that makes me 'troubled' or whatever."
"That's stupid."
"Right?" She gestured at me. "See, you get it. We're gonna be friends, Kori."
Bobby had finished investigating her room and came back to sit at my feet, looking up at me expectantly.
"So what brings ya out to the countryside?" Shouko asked, picking her phone back up but keeping her attention on me. "Family visit? Runnin' from the city? Witness protection?"
"Just visiting for New Year's."
"How long ya stayin'?"
"Six days."
"Nice! So you'll be here for everythin'. That'll be fun. The local shrine's actually pretty cool, even if Gramps' traditional speeches go on forever."
We talked for a while longer, and she told me about the town, about how different it was from city life, about the local kids who were "fine but boring as hell." I told her about Bobby, about skating, about school in vague terms that didn't include recent trauma.
It felt easy talking to her, and eventually, Grandmother's voice called down the hallway. "Dinner! Everyone, come eat!"
"That's our cue," Shouko said, standing and stretching. "Come on, Grandma's cookin' is amazin'. You haven't lived 'til you've had her miso soup."
We headed back to the main room together, Bobby between us.
The table was filled with food like rice, fish, pickled vegetables, miso soup, and several dishes I didn't recognize but smelled incredible. My parents were already seated, looking more relaxed than I'd seen them in days.
Grandfather sat at the head of the table, and Grandmother bustled around, making sure everyone had full bowls and cups.
"Sit, sit! Kori, ya sit here next to Shouko. And that pup can have some water in the kitchen."
I settled Bobby with a bowl of water and some of his food, then took my place at the table.
"Now we're all together," Grandmother said, beaming. "A proper family dinner."
Grandfather raised his cup. "To family. To tradition. To carryin' forward what matters."
"To family," we echoed.
And for the first time in five days, I felt something like peace.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
A/N: Happy New Year again
300 Powerstones: Incomplete
450 Powerstones: Incomplete