Hey Dad!
It's Day Three, and everything's still GREAT! How're you? How's Kanzaburo? Did you take the trash out? There's a zipline this year! You're supposed to be ten to do it, but Susamaru said I could do it if you gave permission. She's the rec counselor. I put the permission slip in here but it'd be faster if you called and asked for her so you can tell her. I wrote the phone number for the camp on the permission slip for you, and I put down the camp's official office hours. Remember, I'm in the Camellia Cabin, if anyone asks!
I've gone on the canoe four times and done the Blob a million times and organized some water games, and I can tread water for two and a half minutes, which is half a minute better than last year and better than anyone in my cabin. Because of all the practice this year at home! YEAH. I think my cabin's going to win the underwater treasure hunt in the pool at the end of the week. We're also going to win the weekly Ultra Clean Award, which is this golden plunger you can hang from the porch of your cabin. It's unused, so it's NOT GROSS.
I put everyone else's letters in this big envelope, that's why it's so thick. I saw it at the camp store and thought it was cool! Can you take them to Water Wheel and pass them out? And over to the gym? I wrote Tengen and Rengoku and the Soyamas' letters too. AND SHINYA AND HAYATO. Don't leave theirs out please. If you don't want to take them to the gym, Uncle Sabito or Uncle Tanjiro will do it. I might've mentioned it in their letters in case you forgot to do it on purpose. Also don't forget (on purpose or not) it's Uncle Sabito's birthday in two weeks, and you have to get a present from both of us.
MISS YOU, LOVE YOU, WRITE ME BACK!
Akemi
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"Here. Letters from Akemi."
"Hell yeah," Sabito said, snatching the stack from Giyuu. He flicked through the envelopes until he found his own. The rest he gave to Urokodaki as he walked by on his way to the kitchen, casually passing them off before he ripped into his letter.
Around them, people read or talked or played quiet games, enjoying the atmosphere that Makomo had carefully cultivated in the café. The main space had several nooks that people could hide in if they didn't want to be bothered, and there were water features throughout, including an old working wooden water wheel against one wall.
Water Wheel Café was a decent-sized coffee shop and bakery that Makomo had opened up about twelve years ago. Somehow she had wrangled the rest of them into working for her, though Giyuu had cut his hours down to almost nothing over the years.
Urokodaki frowned at Sabito's retreating back and then glanced down at the pile of letters he was holding. "Get started on those scones."
"Tanjiro's doing it!" Sabito yelled back.
"No, he's working on macarons," Nezuko called from the front, where she was filling a customer's order. "The scones are your responsibility, Sabito."
Tanjiro's laugh drifted in from the kitchen. "It's okay, I can start the scones, too—"
"See, he can multitask," Sabito cut in. "Learn from your brother."
"Don't shirk," Nezuko said, nearly splashing the shot of espresso onto her apron. "You shirker!"
"It's okaaay, I really don't mind," Tanjiro said, raising his voice as Sabito and Nezuko continued arguing.
Giyuu sat down at the counter, wondering if his family was going to give him a headache today or not. It seemed to be shaping up that way, but then again, there was always a chance they would calm down.
Urokodaki stood beside him, glancing at him searchingly. "You're not moping, are you?"
"I'm fine," Giyuu said.
Urokodaki's eyebrows came together.
Giyuu frowned right back. "I'm fine." And he missed his daughter immensely. It was nice, on occasion, to have a silent home. But when the silence went on, he started wondering where his child was and what havoc she was wreaking and if she was all right and... He realized each summer that a perpetually quiet home made him increasingly anxious.
"Go out and do something fun!" Sabito shouted from the kitchen, having overhead the conversation. "I'll take you rock climbing or something."
"Giyuu and fun," Makomo said, a slight smile on her face. She had one elbow on the counter as she focused on a notepad, probably daydreaming about new additions to the café. While she came off as something of an airhead according to other people, she was actually very observant. More than one person had regretted calling her an airhead in front of her siblings. "I think you're putting together two things that have difficulty existing in the same location."
Giyuu made a face. "That's not true." And he did have plans for the evening. He just wasn't going to share them with his family just yet because they would make a never-ending fuss at the fact he was dating again.
The family was made up of Urokodaki and his adopted children. He and his late wife Masako had fostered kids for years, and they had adopted five of them: Makomo, Sabito, Giyuu, Tanjiro, and Nezuko. Each of them had lost their biological families and ended up with the Urokodakis.
Sabito had been adopted first when he was four, having survived a car crash that had killed the rest of his family. He was now 34, the same age as Giyuu. Makomo, the eldest at 35, had been adopted when she was eight after a house fire, while Giyuu had been adopted when he was twelve, after losing his last surviving relative, his elder sister Tsutako. An earthquake had taken Tanjiro and Nezuko's family, and they had been fostered by Urokodaki at thirteen and twelve, respectively. They had been the last foster children taken in before Masako passed away.
"Akemi is being very diligent with her writing this year," Urokodaki said as he found his letter, his tone tinged with warm approval. As the beloved grandchild, Akemi always had it easier when it came to earning praise from Urokodaki.
"Where's mine?" Nezuko said, appearing at Urokodaki's elbow, her eager eyes on the letters. She set a coffee mug in front of Giyuu. Dark blue and the perfect size, filled with a hazelnut blend he loved. He offered her a satisfied smile, and she grinned back.
"Can you bring me my letter, too, Nezuko?" Makomo asked.
"Sure," Nezuko said, looking at Urokodaki expectantly and with a hint of mischief.
"Patience," Urokodaki mumbled. But similar to Akemi, Nezuko was often treated gentler by Urokodaki. The favoritism for the youngest was clear. He handed her the pile, allowing her to riffle through for her own and Makomo's.
"Why're Rengoku's and Tengen's and everyone's in here too?" Nezuko asked.
Giyuu took a long sip of his coffee. "They'll come over here eventually."
"You're not going to drop them off?"
Another long sip of coffee. They stared at each other. Giyuu looked away first, focusing on his coffee as if enjoying it was his main concern right now.
Nezuko rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, you don't mind Rengoku!"
"It's the other ones," Makomo said, "They're a little...overwhelming at times."
"Hakuji and Tengen aren't that bad." Nezuko handed an envelope to Makomo. "Are they?"
"Don't forget Inosuke," Makomo said. She tapped her pen against her notepad. "The gym is just..."
"Loud," Giyuu supplied, and Makomo nodded.
"I'll take them over there," Sabito said, leaning out of the kitchen. There was a smear of flour across the bridge of his nose and forehead. He smirked. "You wimps."
"Thanks, I think," Giyuu said. At least the coffee was keeping his potential headache at bay. And if he stayed long enough, they would give him free bakery food. Giyuu got out his phone and started sending off emails. He had a few hours until his date with Saika. Might as well get some work done until then.
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Dear Mom,
Another day has passed and the situation has not really improved. I did go on a nature walk today that was by itself enjoyable, but I was scolded for going during the time we were supposed to be at the craft tent. I feel this was unfair. I do NOT want to go to the craft tent. I don't want to make a small clay pot without any instruction on techniques or the history of pottery or even the chance to glaze it and fire it. They're going to be sun dried. They will crack. I'd rather learn pottery with the older campers, but my requests have been denied. I might have to appeal.
The lake is usually calm until Camellia Cabin appears. They are very loud as a whole, and their assumed leader is quite obnoxious. She has started at least five splash battles that I have no interest in joining, though my fellow Honey Bee Cabin members have participated. I have avoided actual contact with her at all cost, which is difficult because she's overly friendly.
I have started befriending a squirrel that likes to eat from the bird feeders. I've been keeping pieces of my breakfast to feed her, and she seems to like it. I need to name her, but I want to make sure it's a name she'll like. If you or anyone else has suggestions, please send them to me as options.
I'm looking forward to the two week mark. I will continue to write. I wish you were here.
Sincerely and with love while waiting,
Moriko
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"You would think I signed her up for four weeks of torture."
"Summer camp. Torture. Same thing," grumbled Sanemi.
Shinobu pursed her lips and gave her brother-in-law a tense smile as she gently bounced his and Kanae's one-year-old son Satsuki on her knee. "No one asked you."
Sanemi shrugged and glanced over at Kanae, a silent communication that she should take the reins. Kanae put down the letter Moriko had sent Shinobu, folding it into the perfect three-part sections Moriko had sent it in.
"I like the hedgehogs," Kanae said, smoothing the edges of the letter. "I think she'll adjust."
"Let me go get her, Shinobu," Sanemi said, leaning back in his chair. "Why bother making her stay there if she's just going to be unhappy?" His eyebrow twitched. "She's making friends with squirrels."
Shinobu snuggled Satsuki to her for a second, trying to get him to giggle. Unfortunately, he stayed as stoic as always. He had the most serious little face. She sighed. "Because, like Kanae, I think she'll eventually enjoy it. Soon." Hopefully tomorrow? The next day? The weekend was coming up soon, and she hoped for better news from Moriko then. Maybe she would start singing the praises of summer camp and tell Shinobu that she had learned how to make friendship bracelets... One friend. One non-squirrel friend.
Why did her daughter want to be friends with a squirrel, anyways. With their creep beady eyes and long claws and those overgrown pipe cleaner tails... This was why they only had a fish at home.
Kanae and Sanemi had a dog, but it blessedly left Shinobu alone whenever she came over, like tonight. The living room was lively and comfortable during the post-dinner hours. Aoi, who was an honorary member of their family, had already gone home to focus on her master's program homework. The rest of them were passing around the letter from Moriko that Shinobu had brought.
"I think we should think of squirrel names," Kanae said. She settled down on the couch beside Sanemi, partially curled up so that her feet were pressed against his leg. "That's more useful than contemplating a covert rescue mission, hmm?"
Sanemi glowered at anything besides Kanae until his gaze landed on Genya and Kanao, who were busy playing a board game with Yoshiko. The white-haired, purple-eyed seven-year-old was Kanae and Sanemi's daughter and first child. "Go get Moriko, you two. Be useful."
Kanao didn't bother looking up from the game.
"I don't want Shinobu to kill me," Genya said, ducking his head. Yoshiko patted his hand.
Sanemi's glare intensified. "What if I kill you instead?"
"Fratricide is decidedly illegal," Kanao said calmly, still not getting distracted from the game. "You have children and a wife to think of, if you're considering jail time." She slid her game piece to a different square. "Your turn, Yoshiko."
"Don't kill Uncle Genya, Daddy," Yoshiko said, hugging onto Genya's arm. "I like it when he's alive."
Sanemi's glare instantly melted under his daughter's pleading gaze. "I was kidding. Mostly."
"Completely," Kanae said, her hand on his arm. She held out her arms to Satsuki, and the one-year-old instantly went to her, abandoning Shinobu. What a mama's boy.
Shinobu reached over and picked up the letter from where Kanae had set it on the table. She put her hand on top of it and then crumpled the edge of it.
"You made the right choice, Shinobu," Kanae said. "It's not all bad."
"Right," Shinobu said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "She made a fuzzy forest friend. Yay."
"It could have rabies," Sanemi said. It earned him a poke in the side by Kanae, who had narrowed her eyes just enough that Sanemi could tell she was annoyed. "But it's Moriko. She would recognize rabies symptoms."
Well, that was true. There were enough medical or pre-med members in their family that Moriko's medical knowledge was almost as impressive as her vocabulary. "I just want her to have a good time."
"She will," Kanae said with a certainty Shinobu wished she also felt.
"And if she doesn't, I'll go get her in a week and a half," Sanemi said firmly.
All three of the Kochou women shared an identical exasperated look.
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Dear Cats of Winds of Love Cat Cafe,
I'd address this letter to each of you individually, but I didn't know if Mitsuri might have added more kittens. I know she was thinking about it. I hope you're all having a very nice summer with lots of treats. I think about all of you each day, and I'm constantly wishing that the adoptables find very nice homes with kind, generous people who know how to treat cats very well. I'm surviving camp. I will endure until the two week mark, and then I'll come home. Please don't miss me too much since I won't be away very long.
Sincerely and with love,
Moriko
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"What are you doing?"
"Putting the letter where the cats can see it," Mitsuri answered her husband as he walked into the cat café proper, his slippers soft on the wooden floor. She was sitting on the floor, taping Moriko's letter to the wall between two of the cat hideaways. One was shaped like a little house while the other was shaped like a burger. They were too cute.
"I could do it," Obanai said, crouching down next to her. It was a testament to how much he loved her that he didn't counter the idea that the cats would appreciate a letter. "You should've asked me."
"You just got off work," she replied, "And I'm not helpless."
"I'm very aware," he said. Reaching over, he touched the end of one of her braids. "You can still ask for help."
"Maybe in a couple months," she said, grinning at him. "When I'm a complete whale."
Obanai stared. "Being pregnant does not make you a whale."
"I mean, I don't want anyone else to call me that," she said, putting another piece of yellow frog washi tape on the paper. "But I can call myself that, if I want." She ran her free hand over her rounded stomach. "Right now, I'm more like a dolphin. Or a shark." With a carefree laugh, she pretended to snap at him. "Grr!"
Obanai leaned back, halfway playing along with her. When she went back to sticking the letter to the wall, he fully sat down, joining her. He had to have been tired, having just finished a twelve-hour shift at the hospital, where he worked as a surgeon. Still, he had shown up to help her close up the café. Two of the new kittens wandered over and crawled into his lap.
"They like you," Mitsuri said, putting another piece of tape on the letter. "I think I'm going to call them Chips and Dip. The tabby is Chips and the black one with the white tipped tail is Dip."
"Okay," Obanai said, running his hand over the back of the black and white kitten. "People will like that."
"We could always adopt them—"
"We already have two cats," he said, "And we're adding a baby."
"A baby is not a pet!" Mitsuri said, puffing her cheeks out.
He half-smiled. "I just meant that we'll be very busy. It might be best for them to be adopted by people with more time to devote to a kitten."
Mitsuri leaned back on her hands, blowing her bangs upwards with a huff of air. "All riiiight." Suddenly she sat up, her hand going back to her stomach. "Oh!"
Obanai tensed and jerked toward her, hovering, eyes huge. The kittens fled. "What, what is it? Do I need to call—"
"She's kicking me, hold on," Mitsuri said, not registering how freaked out he was. She grabbed his hand and placed it on her stomach, moving it around until she found the right spot. "There!"
She watched as the concern faded and contentment and wonder took its place. He always got that look on his face when he felt the baby move. They had gotten married two years ago, not long after she had moved to the city and they had started dating. Both of them had been looking forward to starting a family.
"Two more months," she said, "Are you sure we can't adopt the kittens?"
"Very sure," he said, leaning over and nuzzling her.