“I’m—ready,” I huffed, while trying to catch my breath.

  “Took you long enough,” Baa-san’s stern voice responded while she was holding up a doll. She was sitting on the sofa with my little sister, who was giggling like the world couldn’t be any brighter.

  “Aren’t we going yet?” I asked, plopping down cross-legged on the floor.

  “In a bit. Maybe a few more minutes until the cab gets here,” Baa-san replied without looking up, still half-absorbed in the game.

  Mama returned just then, carrying a tray with three cups, a pot of steaming tea, and a neat plate of biscuits. There was also a container of milk.

  She set them gently on the table, making my little sister notice. Kohana’s eyes sparkled, and in a flash, she stood up and snatched one biscuit, biting into it with unrestrained joy.

  “Ah! Kohana-chan, that’s bad manners,” Mama scolded, her voice stern but not unkind.

  “It’s fine,” Baa-san said casually, waving the concern and Mama’s rebuke, away. “She’s just eating.”

  She placed the doll down neatly on the sofa and reached for the teapot. Then Baa-san took a whiff of the lingering scent and with a small smile, began pouring herself a cup.

  Mama arched an eyebrow, one lip curving into a wry smile. “Oh? And who was it just now, that said that I shouldn’t spoil her too much?”

  For a moment, the room filled with Kohana’s cheerful munching. I bit back a laugh, enjoying the rare sight of Mama and Baa-san bickering like schoolgirls.

  Baa-san smiled at my Mama’s rebuttal.

  “There is a difference between her eating cookies,” Baa-san said before her eyes turned sharp as she looked at me. “And her upbringing.”

  “T—eh! What did I do!?” I asked indignantly, suddenly getting pulled in the argument.

  Kohana giggled through a mouthful of crumbs, clearly enjoying the shift in attention.

  “What’s this I hear about you wanting to cook—” Baa-san paused, gave it a moment’s thought, then added tiredly, “—again?”

  “Hahaue, Rei-chan’s cooking has nothing to do with her upbringing,” Mama said a bit defensively.

  “It has everything to do with her upbringing,” Baa-san cut in sharply. “If you had just said her cooking is nasty—”

  “My cooking isn’t that nasty!” I shot back, before mumbling, “It just needs—a little bit of work.”

  Baa-san sighed heavily and with one hand began to massage her head, before she picked up her cup.

  “Hahaue, you’re being dramatic,” Mama sighed while she brushed crumbs off Kohana’s dress. “She’s still learning. Not everything has to be a test.”

  “That’s right!” I chimed in quickly, seizing the chance to side with Mama.

  “And it is different for Kohana,” Mama said, turning her stern gaze back to Kohana. “It’s bad manners to simply take something without permission. What’s more I don’t want you to get fat from overeating sweets.”

  Kohana froze mid-bite on her fourth biscuit, cheeks still stuffed with crumbs, her wide eyes darting between us as though caught in some grand crime.

  “Is this one of the boy’s gifts?” Baa-san asked suddenly, while staring at her cup.

  Mama was surprised for just a fraction before replying, “Uhm, yes, this is a tea that I recently heard about, but it’s like drinking chocolate especially when you add milk. I think it’s called Golden needle Dianhong. As for the tea, he gave a lot, five flavors, 8 boxes each.”

  “That’s just like him,” Baa-san said with a small fond smile before she asked, “did Seiji like any of it?”

  “We had to stop him from drinking all of it in one go. I personally like this one and we drank most it during cold season.” Mama explained with a sigh. She also poured herself a cup and took a sip. “All in all, we finished the Darjeeling, 1st and 2nd flush, but still have one box of Keemun, Ceylon, and a bit more of Dianhong.”

  Baa-san’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she lifted her cup, inhaling the fragrant steam, before smiling. She then let out a breath, long and quiet, before lifting the cup closer to her face and taking a sip.

  She closed her eyes as she savored the taste as well as the rising steam, the fragrance of the tea softening the hard edges of her expression. For a fleeting moment, she looked less like the stern matriarch and more like someone remembering something far away.

  The tension in the room seemed to ease with her, as if the aroma itself had pressed pause on the conversation.

  “Hmm. At least he has some sense of taste,” Baa-san said, eyes closed. “Unlike someone I know.”

  Before I could say anything, Baa-san shifted her gaze to focus on my little sisters, both me and Mama did the same. Kohana’s little hand was slowly creeping towards another biscuit.

  Baa-san chuckled. “See? Like mother, like daughter.”

  “Kohana-chan, that’s already enough,” Mama said, scooping up my pouting little sister before she could snatch more.

  “I remember a little girl who would steal treats when I was not looking,” Baa-san said wistfully, her gaze resting on the rising steam of her cup and a small smile on her face.

  “That is different?—,” Mama’s voice stuttered a bit, her cheeks going changing into a shade of pink.

  “Or eating an entire box of cookies, in one sitting, on her own, not even bother sharing,” Baa-san continued her onslaught of words and memories mercilessly.

  “Hahaue!” Mama protested as she sat down beside Baa-san with Kohana wriggling in her arms.

  Baa-san took another sip of her tea with a satisfied smile.

  Kohana let out a tiny wail of protest, muffled against Mama’s shoulder and the sofa. For a moment the room was filled with the soft chaos only a family could create—tea steaming, biscuits crumbling, and the weight of old stories brushing against the present.

  Then again, I didn’t think we could ever out-argue Nana Baa-san, so I let myself sink back onto the carpet. Their voices drifted above me, rising and falling like waves I had no hope of steering, and for once it felt easier just to float and listen.

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  THWACK!

  “Ow!”

  “Wake up,” Baa-san said calmly even though she still raised the fan that she’d smacked me with.

  “What did I do?” I asked indignantly, rubbing my head as I sat up. I must have dozed off, so I began to shake away my grogginess. “Baa-san couldn’t you have woken me up nicely—or at least normally?”

  “I did. Twice,” she replied without a hint of remorse.

  “Hurry up, the cab’s here.” With that, she turned and started toward the door.

  I looked around for my luggage, but it was nowhere to be seen. Which meant, Mama had already taken it out. While I sat on the carpet, I brought my hands together and raised them high, an act that stretched my back.

  Just as Baa-san reached the door, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder and added sternly, “wipe that drool off your face.”

  I froze. Then, in a flash, wiped my mouth with the back of my sleeve. No one would notice, so it should be fine.

  Baa-san’s soft chuckle drifted back as she stepped outside.

  After I hauled myself to my feet, I followed her into the sunlight. The air outside was crisp, despite it being in the middle of the morning, filled with the scent of spring on the street and exhaust from the waiting cab.

  Mama was already there, giving last-minute instructions to the driver. Kohana waved when I stood beside her on the porch, crumbs still clinging to her cheeks.

  “Finally awake?” Mama called as she began to walk towards the house.

  “I am,” I replied as I was rubbing my eyes, before I straightened.

  When Mama reached me, she pulled me into a tight embrace and whispered, “Come back home safe.”

  “Of course, Mama, I will,” I replied softly.

  After she let go, I turned to face my little sister. I bent down and wiped the crumbs off her face before hugging her tight. “See you again soon, Kohana-chan.”

  “Rei-nee, bai-bai!” she replied while giggling.

  “We will see you after a week,” Baa-san said to Mama before making her way towards the cab.

  “Hahaue, please come back safely,” Mama called after her, voice tinged with melancholy as she bowed.

  As I climbed in the car, the door shut with a soft thud, sealing all sounds from the outside.

  “Off we go,” Baa-san said to the driver in her usual no-nonsense tone.

  I waved one last time to Mama and Kohana as the cab rolled forward. Then, I leaned my head against the window, half awake, half dreaming, the hum of the engine and the vibrations of the car carried us forward to our destination like a gentle lullaby.

  “Don’t you even dare think about sleeping here,” Baa-san’s voice cut through the calm, startling me. “If you fall asleep, I won’t hesitate to leave you behind.”

  That last remark made the driver glance nervously at us through the rearview mirror.

  “I—I won’t!” I stammered, then I sat up straight, forced my eyes open and willed myself awake.

  “You can sleep on the train,” Baa-san said matter-of-factly, completely unbothered by the driver’s worried look or my protest.

  The ride to the station went by in good time. We got lucky because were not slowed by either traffic or red lights.

  When we arrived, we found the ticketing officer and explained my situation. Fortunately, the hotel management had called ahead, so everything was already arranged. We were given our tickets for the train without any trouble, though he was giving strange looks towards Baa-san.

  Our train ride was also smooth sailing. Nothing strange happened, nor did anyone act up, though we noticed more foreigners than usual. Then again, we were heading to Tokyo, and spring was one of those seasons when the city filled with visitors. So really, there was nothing unusual about it at all.

  I managed to sleep for the rest of the trip, only to be woken by the soft voice of the intercom that announced our stop. When I sat up, Baa-san had already gathered my things with practiced efficiency.

  After she handed me my belongings, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and followed her toward the doors. As they slid open, a rush of cold station air, the scent of coffee, perfume, and a hundred different footsteps spilled from Tokyo station, alive and restless, already moving faster than I could keep up.

  Baa-san on the other hand, was in no hurry and slightly lagged behind the large crowd, walking at her own pace, her cane making audible sounds, cutting clean through the noise.

  “Come on. Keep up. Stay close,” she said sternly. “I’ve got a few people to meet.”

  She seemed on edge, and something about the way she said it made me straighten up a little, my sleepiness fading as I followed her.

  It wasn’t our first time at Tokyo station, but according to our instructions, we were supposed to meet a guide who would take us the rest of the way. Normally, we’d be looking around for them.

  Baa-san, however, seemed to have other plans. She walked straight ahead, unbothered by the crowds, her steps steady and certain, as if she already knew exactly where to go. I had no idea where our destination was, but from the look in her eyes, I knew better than to ask.

  I silently followed her, keeping pace, until I noticed a foreigner standing near one of the pillars, holding what looked like a handmade sign. Judging by our direction, he was probably our destination or our guide considering he has a sign. He was talking on his phone and hadn’t noticed us approaching.

  We stopped just short of talking distance from the man, thus confirming my earlier guess. We waited quietly for him to finish his call. As soon as he turned around, our presence startled him, making him jump and nearly drop his phone and his sign.

  “Remington, what are you doing?” Baa-san asked through furrowed eyebrows. Her expression was a mixture of exasperation and confusion.

  I noticed that Baa-san had asked the man in Japanese. I was about to point out that he may not be able to understand her, but to my surprise, the man responded.

  “Ah, ah—yes—hello,” he stuttered, straightening his posture, and trying to compose himself. “My, uhm—name? Name! Uhm yes, my name, is Remington Percival Clifford-De Lacy. You can call me Remy.”

  I glanced at Baa-san and she had an expression that screamed she was not impressed. Baa-san let out a long, tired sigh before her stern gaze locked on Remy. She fixed him in place with an unblinking stare that could’ve frozen a kettle mid-boil.

  “I know that Remington. I called you by your name a moment ago, did I not?” she said in a tone reserved for particularly hopeless cases. “I am asking, what you are doing, here, in this place, holding that ridiculous piece of garbage.”

  Baa-san said everything slowly and patiently, like she was talking to a dullard.

  “Yes, I uhm, am your guard. Wait! No! Not guard! Guide! Uhm, I mean—” Remy fumbled for words, beads of sweat starting to appear on his forehead. “Ahem, I will be your guide for the duration of the event, honored guests.”

  After he said this, he gave a low bow. When he straightened the face that looked back at us, was somehow, smiling serenely.

  Baa-san looked at him for a few seconds, enough seconds to make the fa?ade he created to start cracking. The corners of his mouth twitched, and he shifted his weight nervously when she still didn’t speak.

  “Everyone—” he began, trying to recover his composure, but Baa-san cut him off.

  “Then hurry up and guide us already. It’s nearly lunchtime,” Baa-san snapped, her voice sharp enough to make Remy stand at attention.

  “Ah, yes! Yes, of course,” Remy stammered, before he hastily folded the cardboard sign in half. He then crossed to the nearest trash bin, and crumpled it further until it fit. After tossing it in, he quickly returned to us in a bit of run.

  “Please, right this way,” he said sketching a bow and gesturing eastward, towards Yaesu Central Concourse. “We have prepared a vehicle to take you to the hotel. But because the station doesn’t allow parking for buses, we have parked at Kajibashi Parking Lot, a few minutes’ walk from here.”

  With Remy’s prompt, Baa-san walked towards the exit, not waiting for confirmation or approval from either me or Remy.

  We scrambled to keep up with her surprisingly agile steps.

  “Mr. Remy, excuse me but, I would like to apologize,” I said, causing him to stop for a moment. I did the same and quickly I bowed my head. “I am sorry about my grandmother.”

  He looked a bit taken aback by my actions, but he nodded and we resumed our walk.

  “Ah, no, no. No harm done,” he said with a casual wave of his hand. “I know her personality well enough, so, it’s no trouble. And please, just call me Remy.”

  He said all of that with a wry smile, while scratching the back of his head. I began to wonder what had Baa-san done to this person to make him like this.

  When we were just a few paces behind her, she called out to us.

  “Remington, be a gentleman and take her luggage,” she said to us without turning, her voice audible above the din of the station crowd.

  “Baa-san!” I said, shocked. I nearly began to protest, but Remy spoke first, before I could.

  “It’s fine,” he half whispered to me, conspiratorially. “I don’t want to get into more trouble with her than I’m already in.”

  “What was that?” Baa-san snapped, stopping suddenly.

  “Nothing! I am being a gentleman and offering to take her burden,” he said out loud though the look he gave me was pleading that I should just do it.

  I sighed slightly and reluctantly handed him my suitcase.

  Remy took happily the handle and said in a cheery tone, “Well then, shall we?” and started walking ahead. I stared at baa-san who was staring at Remy’s back.

  After a few seconds of thought, Baa-san resumed her brisk walk, catching up to Remy in no time. I hurried along, also not wanting to anger her any further.