Room 201 of Maison Yōnan. Morning sunlight streamed through the south-facing window. Mid-spring. Yōnan Town, Honami City. A regional municipality of seventy-two thousand people, where the new school year had only just begun. Saya opened the mailbox. Six-thirty in the morning. That quiet hour before waking Ren. The shared mailbox on the landing was usually filled with new letters and notices at the start of each month. But this time, only two advertising flyers were crammed inside. A supermarket sale notice and an investment pitch from a real estate company. Both were worthless papers to Saya. *(Again.)* A small murmur from the depths of her heart. The transfer notice for child support from her ex-husband hadn't come. It hadn't come last month either, or the month before that. Thirty thousand yen a month—that was what the divorce agreement stipulated. That he couldn't even manage that. Saya closed the mailbox quietly. Her black hair, cut short to her shoulders, had a slight wave from the morning's faint humidity. Deep brown eyes held the fatigue and wariness cultivated over thirty-four years of life. A white blouse and black slacks. The convenience store uniform, freshly cleaned, would be hanging on the apartment stairs. On her left wrist was a delicate, small tattoo-like pattern in traditional Japanese design—a trace of quiet rebellion she'd once hidden from her husband. Her footsteps up the stairs and back to the room were, as always, silent. "Ren, it's morning." Her ten-year-old son was curled up in his futon in the four-and-a-half-mat bedroom. Ren. Fourth grade. Quiet, sensitive. He loved reading and didn't belong to any particular group at school. Saya gently stroked his hair. Only in that moment did softness—a mother's softness—return to her expression. "Mm..." Ren rubbed his eyes. There was always a small gap before he opened them fully. Saya had grown accustomed to waiting through that tiny span of time. "Breakfast is ready." Once she confirmed Ren was sitting up, Saya headed to the kitchen. A narrow kitchen. A two-burner stove. Tofu she'd bought the day before yesterday, seaweed, natto in the refrigerator. The rice had finished cooking five minutes ago. She'd reheat the miso soup. The same combination every morning. Cheap, nutritious, quick to prepare. "Is school fun?" She asked gently as Ren sat at the table. As a mother, she believed she had to show at least minimal interest. "...I guess." Ren was stirring his natto. "How's your new homeroom teacher?" Spring new term. Ren's class had been reorganized, and his teacher had changed. Saya pretended to read the newspaper while waiting, barely perceptibly, for her son's response. "...He's weird." Ren murmured. "Weird?" "He doesn't smile much. And the way he talks is kind of... stiff." Saya nodded. What the school teacher was like didn't matter. But she had to listen to Ren's words. That was the bare minimum of her duty as a mother, she believed. "I see. But teachers are important, so listen carefully, okay?" A contradiction—a mother who couldn't believe in herself, telling her child to "listen carefully." But Saya didn't notice it. Or rather, she noticed but looked away. Ren replied "okay" and continued eating in silence. That was the extent of their morning conversation. That was their daily routine. Six fifty. Forty minutes until Ren's departure for school. Saya packed his lunch. Fried chicken from yesterday, frozen broccoli and corn, small mustard greens she'd stir-fried the night before. A small mandarin orange for dessert. On fifteen thousand yen a month for food, she made his lunch every day. Calculating nutrition, computing costs, keeping track of what Ren liked and disliked, executing it all within limited time. That repetition was nearly the entirety of Saya's life. Eight in the morning. Ren shouldered his school bag. "I'm going." A small voice. "Have a good day. Be careful." At the entrance, Saya watched Ren's back disappear. In the small flower bed in front of Maison Yōnan, the landlady Ando Setsuko was tending to the seasonal flowers. A woman nearing seventy, but her posture was straight. "Good morning, Ren. Have a good day." Setsuko smiled at him. Ren waved back, a little shy. Saya withdrew to the edge of the apartment, watching Ren walk down the school route toward Sakura Bridge. The cherry trees along the Honami River were already beginning to scatter. Spring wind lifted the petals into the air. The sight should have been beautiful, but it didn't register in Saya's eyes. Once Ren was out of sight, she returned to the room. --- Daily Mart Yōnan Branch. Nine in the morning. "Good morning." Saya gave a light bow to the assistant manager, Hatano Kenta. Kenta was thirty-eight. A former Japan Self-Defense Force member, judging by his build and posture. Short-cropped hair, angular features. Even in the convenience store uniform, something militaristic and stern emanated from him. Minimum wage: 1,020 yen per hour. Five days a week. Six hours a day. Because of this, she wasn't enrolled in social insurance. "Good morning, Hiiragi. Please do your best from the start of the shift today." Kenta greeted her with a smile. Saya was aware that something beyond mere kindness was mixed into that smile. But she didn't want to acknowledge it. She took her place at the register. From nine-thirty to eleven in the morning, regular customers increased. Housewives came to buy daily necessities. Among them were people who knew about Saya. "Oh, Hiiragi. Thank you for all your hard work." An older woman. A regular who came three or four times a week. "Thank you so much for always shopping with us." A smile. Saya's smile was perfect. So perfect that no one knew the truth. In the store, two other housewives were talking. Fragments of their conversation reached Saya's ears. "...I heard that woman got divorced." "Oh, that one?" "Yes. She left her husband and now lives in an apartment with just her son. It must be tough." Saya didn't stop placing products on the shelf. She'd made it a habit to pretend not to notice when she became the topic of conversation. Noon. Break time. In the back room, Saya ate a convenience store bento. Fried chicken bento. Three hundred ninety-eight yen. She'd bought it with a half-price sticker. While eating, she checked her smartphone. Three unread messages from her ex-husband remained. She didn't open them. She didn't have the energy to open them. *(It's just excuses anyway.)* During last year's divorce negotiations and immediately after, messages from her ex-husband always followed the same pattern. "Sorry, I'll definitely send it next month." "Work's been busy." "I got a new girlfriend." She no longer believed the words of a man who couldn't even pay thirty thousand yen in child support. Three in the afternoon. Saya's shift ended. She rode her bicycle home. From Daily Mart to home was five minutes by bike. Ren's arrival time was three-thirty. To make it in time, Saya left at this hour every day. She crossed the bridge over the Honami River. Spring wind was blowing. The cherry trees along the river were truly beautiful. Next month, the "Honami Cherry Blossom Festival" would be held. About twelve thousand people visited every year, or so she'd heard. Saya and Ren had never gone. Too many people at festivals. It cost money. For those reasons, they didn't go. Home. She climbed the stairs of Maison Yōnan and entered room 201. Three twenty in the afternoon. Saya waited for Ren to come home. The entrance door opened. "I'm home." Ren's voice was smaller than usual. Saya looked up. "Welcome home." Ren's expression seemed harder than usual. "What's wrong? Did something happen?" As Saya asked, Ren answered while removing his shoes. "The new homeroom teacher talked at the morning assembly in front of everyone. He's... scary." "Scary?" "His voice is really quiet, but there's something... strict about it. He doesn't smile much. Everyone seemed confused about the teacher, and we were all quiet." As Saya listened to Ren's story, she felt nothing inside. Whatever kind of teacher the school had, as long as it didn't affect Ren's grades, it was fine. That practical thinking occupied her mind. "I see. But that's how teachers are. Listen carefully to what he says." "...Okay." Ren headed toward the back of the room. To do his homework. Saya checked her bankbook. Part-time wages: 120,000 yen. Child support allowance: 43,000 yen. Monthly take-home was approximately 163,000 yen. Rent was 45,000. Utilities were 10,000. Food was 15,000. Phone bill was 3,000. The rest went to emergency funds, Ren's school supplies, and clothing purchases. When she calculated it, there was barely anything left over each month. *(Not enough.)* That word always surfaced. And the next word that always followed was the same. *(But there's nothing I can do.)* Six in the evening. Dinner preparation. The refrigerator had leftover pork soup from yesterday. She reheated it. Cooked rice. Put out pickles. A simple table. The same repetition every day. Ren finished his homework and sat at the table. "Sounds like a lot happened at school today." Saya tried to encourage her son to talk. But it wasn't from genuine interest—it was an action to play the role of a "good mother." She knew that about herself. "...Yeah. We had relay team selections. I didn't get picked." Ren's voice was small. "I see. But it's natural that people who are good at it do it. Don't worry about it." Saya replied flatly. She didn't have the energy or capacity to pick up on her son's disappointment. They continued eating. Seven-thirty in the evening. While Ren did his homework, Saya folded laundry beside him. She carefully folded her uniform. Folded Ren's underwear and socks. Folded towels. It was hypnotic work, and her hands moved as they always did. "Mom, are you tired?" Ren said. Saya's chest ached at that question. Her exhaustion was visible to her son. "I'm fine. Just a little sleepy." She forced a smile. She knew that smile was truly a lie. Outside the window, the cherry trees along the Honami River were visible in the thin moonlight. Spring wind was blowing. The seasons changed, but her daily life did not. Nine at night. Ren fell asleep. Saya lay alone in her futon. Staring at the ceiling, she whispered. "Tomorrow, the same day will come again." For some reason, those words tightened her chest. Ren's words—"the teacher is weird"—lingered in her mind. She didn't know what kind of person that homeroom teacher was. She didn't need to know. As long as Ren got through school safely, that was enough. *(Really?)* A small voice whispered from the depths of her heart. Didn't she really want to know more about Ren? Didn't she really want to be more involved? But she didn't have the capacity for that involvement. Saya closed her eyes. Tomorrow, at six-thirty in the morning, she'd open the mailbox again. Again, only advertisements would be inside. Again, she'd wake Ren. Again, she'd make his lunch. Again, she'd work at the convenience store for 1,020 yen an hour. That repetition was how she lived. Spring wind was still blowing. In this corner of Honami City, a mother and a child spent the night quietly. Tomorrow morning, Ren would head to school. And he would come to know more about that new homeroom teacher's time. That expressionless, frightening teacher. But Saya didn't know that yet. Only Ren's words—"the weird teacher"—left a faint ripple in the depths of her heart. What that ripple would bring, she didn't yet know. The spring night grew quiet, deepening into darkness.