[Whistle!][Mizuno Mariko][G]

[lilacfield.livejournal.com]

Title: Yet if you had a desire for good or beautiful things
Author: array_of_colors / Eve
Rating: G
Warnings: Only if you don't know Mizuno Tatsuya's backstory.
Prompt: 152) Oh, I am arm'd with more than complete steel,/ The justice of my quarrel. -- Aphra Behn. (not used)
Summary: Her family are the people from whom Mariko draws her strength, and she always gives back what she takes.
Whistle! © Higuchi Daisuke, et al.


On her way back from the fridge, Takako happened to notice that the door to the veranda was partly open. Mariko was sitting outside, wearing a snug brown sweater, her feet bare. It was eight-thirty in the evening and Tatsuya was already asleep. Mariko's long hair was held back with a turtleshell hair slide that she had bought during her middle school years - Takako knew this because she was with Mariko on that particular shopping expedition. When Takako sat beside her and offered a can of cold beer, Mariko shook her head.

"I'm going to the hairdresser tomorrow," she said, seemingly apropos of nothing. "I feel like a new haircut. After that, maybe Yuriko can show me the latest tricks she's learned. The last thing she said to me before I moved out was that I ought to try eye shadows with darker colors."

"Are you all right? Is Tatsuya all right?"

Mariko laced her fingers together, draped them over one knee. "Tatsuya is angry with his father. It's normal. It's why he chose to come with me. And he's a boy who feels things deeply, so I suppose he'll stay angry for some time. But he'll be fine."

"And you?"

"Oh, don't worry about me. I'll manage. I'll just keep doing what I've always done - be a mother and a homemaker." Her eyes twinkled. "In the meantime, you and Yuriko will constantly drop hints that it's not too late for me, that I can still start a new life, though maybe not with a new man, or not immediately - better wait until Tatsuya is in high school."

That startled Takako into a snort. "You never were like Yuriko and me. The fast lane has never been your style."

"You don't envy me, I hope?"

"Not a chance." Takako finished the rest of her beer and climbed to her feet. "Would you like me and Yuriko to go to the hairdresser with you tomorrow? We can go to this neat new cafe afterward - they serve the most delectable caramel pudding. No? You'd rather be on your own? Fine by me. Let us know if you change your mind." She went back inside, the extra beer can dangling from her hand.

The silence that followed was companionable, peaceful. Mariko leaned back on her arms, gazing up at the clear moonless sky. She did not have to imagine what Souichirou would be doing at the moment; all too often she had seen him retreat into his collection of Chinese poetry books for solace. She could picture him very clearly now, book in hand, a cup of steaming tea at his elbow, firmly believing that things would work out all right. Whatever that might entail. She was glad that they shared this one belief, at the very least.

--

There was a two-week period during which Tatsuya avoided her. He locked himself in his bedroom when he was at home, doing his homework or tuning in to the latest songs. Mariko did not take offense at this. Tatsuya, like Souichirou, always valued some time alone, whether or not it would help them.

---

Seasons slipped by, and Tatsuya went to a middle school with mediocre reputation in soccer; Mariko said nothing at all. Takako told him that he should bring his friends over once in a while. Yuriko seconded the idea, mischievously adding that she would like to see if he had cute classmates. To her older sisters, she insisted that it was time they check for the beginning of lines and sagging skin around their eyes and mouths, and do something about them. Mariko dutifully read Yuriko's list of recommended beauty products, feeling amused, feeling old - feeling loved.

She led a happy life, and if she sometimes felt Souichirou needed someone to keep an eye on him, on account of his health, she kept the premonition under the surface. Until that night, but even then she was not as shaken as she had expected to be. Some things were simply due in coming.

---

Kazamatsuri said he had contacted one of his ex-seniors in Musashinomori, for which Mariko thanked him. He looked very uncomfortable when she ordered him to take off his blood-splashed clothes and change into the clean shirt she brought with her. "You can't walk in the streets looking like that," she said, cutting off his further apologies by a gentle reminder that it was already late and he should go home.

Souichirou was awake. Mariko sat on the bedside chair, hands on her lap, making no move to touch him. His hair, she noticed with a twinge of unease, had gone a complete, dusty white.

"I spoke to the doctor. He said it's likely that you overworked yourself."

He contemplated the single lightbulb on the ceiling. "Tatsuya is a very, very stubborn person."

There was no need to rush him for details, so she replied, "He takes after you."

"I only want what's best for him."

"I know, dear." After all these years, the word felt stilted, artificial, like a piece of bad dialogue in a script, but also oddly relieving. She did not think he noticed she had spoken it.

"Don't tell him about this."

"I won't if Kazamatsuri-kun won't."

He finally looked at her. His expression was troubled. "Tell me honestly, Mariko. Was I wrong? Should I have let him do as he chooses?"

"You are wrong, but only in wishing you could live his life for him. That's all Tatsuya sees, you know. That's how all of this started."

His answering smile was crooked; he closed his eyes. She reached out, slowly, and held his hand until he fell asleep.

Yes, she was content, and her men neither complicated her life nor disturbed her equilibrium. They kept her on her toes, with their simmering animosity toward each other; their very presence kept her anchored and therefore clear-headed. She might never contribute to their reconciliation - assuming something of the sort would ever take place - and the three of them might always exist this way, until Tatsuya came to his own and would be less reluctant to speak to Souichirou over the self-imposed fence. And she would be here in the meanwhile, not to push down or saw away at the fence, but to help Tatsuya unsee it, as she was now teaching him to see past his ever-fresh resentment. It was a thankless task, and also a fulfilling one. For she was a woman and a mother.

Releasing Souichirou's hand and laying it down on the blanket, she sat with her ankles crossed, waiting for a nurse to peer in and give her an excuse to leave.