RP: YSS Miharu [Central Uesureya] Into Welcoming Arms

[MoonMan]

As Sanjuro emerged from the spaceport after his short shuttle trip, he paused for a moment. Central Uesureya was still remarkably similar to the way he had left it, those months ago after enrollment into the Star Army. He recalled the circumstances and his apprehension at becoming a military medical officer, and how his family discouraged it so. All this reminiscing, however, came to an abrupt end as he finally spotted that which had had been looking for in the first place; a black-paneled car, window rolled down and familiar face half-smiling, half-grimacing at him from the confines.

“Mr. Ashitaka,” the man greeted, a middle-aged gentleman of professional appearance, clothes very similar to Sanjuro’s sharp business suit. “Glad to see you’re still alive.” Sanjuro nodded quietly in reply, opening the passenger side door and placing his briefcase on the floor. After he had buckled in, the driver pulled out of the terminal and into the street.

“Thank you for agreeing to pick me up, Mr. Watanabe.” Sanjuro said blandly, gaze piercing out of the windshield. “I could not reach my family, and was unable to get another person to drive me my vehicle.” Watanabe smiled as he replied at his passenger. “Well, I’ve been your lawyer for quite a while; we’re practically business partners. I’ll have you know you’re one of my top clients.” Sanjuro didn’t look too pleased with that remark. Who would, after all, enjoy being told that they frequently require the assistance of a lawyer in their daily life? Mr. Watanabe apparently came to this same realization, and patted Sanjuro on the shoulder lightly. “That was a joke Sanjuro, common. You shouldn’t worry so much; the woman isn’t pressing charges, so your record won’t be called into question. I’ve gotten you out of this situation before, right? Trust me.”

Sanjuro agreed wordlessly with a nod. Watanabe did his job well.

The car rounded another corner into a suburban block of artificial homesteads. This was the kind of neighborhood where all of the grass and trees were transplanted from more appropriate areas, where the entrance to the street was walled off by a gate that covered little more than the road and all of the homes were comprised of two or three alternating models; a neighborhood for the well-off middle class, too poor to afford helicopter pads and multiple-car garages, but rich enough to maintain classy indoor pools and, on the occasion, get-togethers with friends talking about profits over light alcohol and h’our dourves of “authentic” foreign cuisine. Watanabe pressed a series of keys at the front gate and followed the road in for a block or so.

“I’ll contact you if any more details about the case turn up. They allow you to receive messages while on those ships, right?” Watanabe asked as they pulled into the driveway of a particularly large house at the end of the cul-de-sac. “I can only receive the message once we get back to a Yamataian planet. They don’t risk sending out communications that can be traced out on the field,” Sanjuro replied as he gathered his things and opened the door. Watanabe merely nodded in understanding. “Right, right…well, you’ll have a message waiting for you when you return then. I’ll see you later Sanjuro.”

Sanjuro thanked his lawyer again and watched as he pulled out of the driveway and back out the road. When he could no longer see Watanabe’s fading headlights, the solemn doctor turned and face the house, fixing his tie lightly with his one free hand as he walked down the concrete walkway to the door. Sanjuro knelt over and lifted up the welcome mat, producing a rough copper key which fit the rustic brass handle of the door perfectly.

Sanjuro unlocked it and replaced the key, turned the handle and walked in. The Ashitaka family home…the same way he’d left it.

 

[MoonMan]

Sanjuro took off his dress jacket at the front door, revealing his slim-fitting white dress shirt and tie as he carefully placed the jacket on a coat rack next to the door. The hallway before him was respectfully decorated; flowers and small statuettes on a clear glass coffee table to the side, an elaborately decorated hanging lantern to illuminate the hallway…it was all very nice, but also all very unremarkable. Sanjuro turned at the first doorway and made his way into the kitchen.

“Ah. Sanjuro. Back so soon?”

Sanjuro turned to find an older Yamataian woman sitting at the dinner table behind him, nose buried in a hard-cover book. The woman didn’t bother to stop reading her novel, but continued to talk to Sanjuro all the same. Sanjuro, in the meantime, had gotten over the momentary shock of the situation and reset to his initial task; filling his empty stomach. Upon opening the cabinets lining the walls of the kitchen, Sanjuro wrinkled his nose slightly at what he saw. Although most of the items were seemingly well-placed and proper, it was obvious to Sanjuro that Rika had been sneaking around in Sanjuro’s absence, forgetting to replace condiments and spices in their proper places.

“I’m sorry that nobody could pick you up from the spaceport,” Jumi said. “Your father and I just had the cars cleaned. You understand how we’d want to keep them that way, and it looks like it’s going to rain.”
“It’s fine. Mr. Watanabe offered me a ride.”
“Ah, I see.”

“Where are the others?” Sanjuro asked, his eyes focused on his search for a particular item in the cabinets. Sanjuro’s mother, Jumi Ashitaka, didn’t seem to notice her sons lack of eye-contact; her own eyes were still buried in her novel.

“Your father is working late tonight,” Jumi answered nonchalantly.
“And your other children?”
“Oh. Gunpei is at sports practice.”
“Which sports practice?”
“I don’t know Sanjuro. He has so many. I don’t keep track of them all.”
“What about Pai and Rika?”
“Pai is at her violin lessons.”
“Violin lessons? She’s only four years old. What about her ballet?” Sanjuro said, a small ounce of concern in his voice.
“Yes, I know, we started her a bit late. She’s taking double the course hours to make up for it. And she’s still in ballet,” Jumi replied with a sigh. She didn’t sound as concerned.
“And Rika?”
“Rika is at her boyfriend’s house.”
“Which one?”
“One of the K’s. Ken or Kuwabara or Koshi. One of those three.”
“So they will all be back late tonight, I assume?” Sanjuro asked.
“Eventually, yes.”
Sanjuro simply replied with a nod.

Not once during the conversation did the mother and son even so much as look at one another…they were far too busy. Jumi’s novel was just reaching a not-so-surprising twist, and Sanjuro had finished preparations for a dumpling dish and began making the preparations to cook the enticing plate. Neither of them found this to be any different than when Sanjuro lived at home, or at any point in Sanjuro’s life for that matter. It was just how they interacted. It was always that way, and ones such as these two tend to not take notice to the mundane and repeated aspects of life. He also made a mental note to ask the parents of other children on Gunpei’s sports teams for recordings of his games as well. He didn’t like missing out on anything.

As for Rika…it seems she had forgotten about the “No More Than Five Boyfriends” rule Sanjuro had imposed right before he headed off to the recruitment office. With three potential suitors in a single letter category, Sanjuro wasn’t all that willing to believe Rika was still adhering to his declaration.

And as for Pai…

“…I didn’t receive the video of Pai’s ballet recital. Did you forget to send it?” Sanjuro said as he worked.
“Pai had a ballet recital?”
“Yes. Two weeks ago, Tuesday evening. I asked you and father to record it for me.”
“Oh. Sanjuro, your father and I didn’t go to that. We had dinner plans at the Lantern Gardens. You can ask one of the other parents for a copy of it if you want.”
Sanjuro nodded again.

The medical officer somewhat expected this anyway, and had previously asked two other sets of parents for copies of the recital recording. They were happy to oblige, but, of course, each video was focused on the other families child most of the time. Luckily, there were a few sections where Pai was clearly visible in each recording. It would have to do. Sanjuro silently decided to coach Pai on the more complex aspects of ballet whenever he found the time…he rather enjoyed watching his littlest sister dance.

There was silence after the end of that conversation, for quite a length of time. Sanjuro finished his food and sat neatly at the table to consume it. Near the end of his meal, however, Jumi spoke up one last time.

“So. Will you be staying long?” Jumi queried.
“I’m afraid not. I have to leave after this…my leave isn’t long, and I have to see some of my superiors about some of the concerns I have for some of the members of my current crew.”
“That’s too bad. I’m sure the children would’ve like to see you again.”
“Tell them I’m sorry,” Sanjuro apologized, taking his dishes to the dishwasher and straightening out his tie in his reflection on the window. “Next time I’ll be sure to sanction more time to spend with them. Goodbye mother.”

“Goodbye, Sanjuro,” his mother returned his farewell, not bothering to watch as Sanjuro retrieved his jacket from the hallway coat rack.

Sanjuro took a moment or two to make sure his appearance was presentable enough and reached for the handle. At first, he didn’t turn it…just simply held the brass, looking behind him further into the house for a couple of seconds. When his eyes had a fill of the view, Sanjuro opened the door and headed towards his own vehicle.

Overall, a very pleasant visit home for Sanjuro Ashitaka.