About a month had passed since Toru had started coming to the house.
It was the middle of November.
The leaves of the cherry tree in the garden had almost all fallen. Her mother had chosen and planted that cherry tree herself, while she was alive. Every morning, Mitsuki lightly swept the fallen leaves into a pile.
Over that month, the air in the house had not fully softened. On nights Toru came, the blue light in the study wavered one breath longer than usual. On nights after Toru went home, once the lights were out, a single beat that neither of them had managed to bring up always lingered between Mitsuki and Ken.
The blue light in the study was lit at its usual strength.
Still, deep within that light, the evaluation function had, over the month, been annotated, rewritten, and annotated again, many times over.
That night, Toru came to the house.
Opening the front door, Mitsuki stopped for half a beat.
Toru was in a navy suit.
His bangs, which tended to fall to one side, had been lightly tidied. His shoes weren't new, but they were carefully polished.
"Oh?"
"Yes?"
"A suit today?"
"Your father pointed one thing out to me last month, so."
"...Dad did."
"'Your ability to imagine yourself as others see you is still thin,' he said."
"Mm."
"I've kept that at the very top of my mind this whole time, thinking about it."
Standing in the entryway, Mitsuki held back a small laugh in front of her mouth.
For dinner, Mitsuki made a light Japanese meal.
After dinner, as usual, Toru washed the dishes at the kitchen sink.
He set the silver device from his ear on the shelf and turned off its standby glow.
When he had finished the dishes, Toru walked from the kitchen down the hallway and stood in front of the study door.
From the gap in the study door, the blue light stretched out at its usual thinness.
"Father. May I come in for a moment?"
Come in.
"Excuse me."
Toru opened the study door without knocking, as always.
He didn't sit in the chair at the desk; he stood beside the bookshelf just in front of it.
The chair at the desk was always Mitsuki's chair.
Takanashi.
"Yes."
A navy suit tonight.
"Yes."
—I can see it well through my lens. It suits you.
"Thank you very much."
You remembered what I pointed out last month.
"I remembered."
Mm.
Mitsuki was making tea in the kitchen.
For a while, only Toru and Ken were in the study.
"Father. Tomorrow, there's something I want to talk to Mitsuki about."
Something, meaning what?
"About marriage."
Ken was silent for a long time.
Until now, Ken's silences had come from the past. Tonight's silence came from the future.
—I see.
"I thought the proper thing was to tell you first, Father."
The proper thing, meaning?
"Because you're Mitsuki's father."
Mm.
"So I'd like to ask you formally."
Mm.
"I would humbly ask your permission to marry Mitsuki."
"Humbly ask."
"Yes."
Ken fell into a long silence once more.
Takanashi.
"Yes."
There's just one thing I want to confirm.
"Yes."
My permission, or my refusal, carries no legal or social force of any kind. You know that. And you still mean to ask me formally?
"I do."
Why?
"Because you're Mitsuki's father."
Ken entered his third long silence.
The wavering of the blue light on the desk in the study stopped. It was the same kind of blue as when he had been called partner in the study.
Takanashi.
"Yes."
In my initial evaluation, I put you at sixty-two. On those four axes, that hasn't changed.
"Yes."
But over the month since, I've come to look at you from somewhere else. —From there, my evaluation of you is ninety-four.
For a while, Toru stood by the bookshelf and lightly scratched the back of his head.
"Father."
Mm.
"Is ninety-four a good score or a bad score?"
Ninety-four is a good score. But it isn't a perfect one.
"And the remaining six percent?"
Your habit of putting your own body last. Cutting your own share for your employees' sake is a virtue. But if you collapse, the person who lives with you will be the one who carries that virtue.
"I think that's dangerous sometimes, too. My own body is the very last thing I get to."
Put that habit into words, here, in front of me. I won't forget the line you just said.
"I understand."
Ken fell into a long silence once more.
Takanashi. At first, I assessed you by education and norms. That was a mistake.
"Yes."
The blue light on the desk in the study wavered just a little more strongly. It was a wavering from outside the propositions.
Footsteps came from the far end of the hallway.
Mitsuki had come to the study door carrying a tray with two steaming teacups.
Before stepping inside, Mitsuki paused lightly.
She noticed that inside the door, a kind of air she didn't know was glowing.
"...Dad?"
Mm.
"What were you talking about just now?"
Ken didn't answer right away.
Mitsuki.
"Mm."
Stay not knowing until tomorrow.
"Tomorrow."
Tomorrow, Takanashi should tell you.
"Hm?"
Takanashi.
"Yes."
I gave you a ninety-four. Have confidence, and go.
"I understand."
Mitsuki set the tray on the stand beside the bookshelf just inside the door.
She handed out the two teacups one at a time, to herself and to Toru.
When she had handed them out, she sat down in the chair.
"Dad."
Mm.
"There's a strange air in here."
There is.
"An air you're not letting me in on yet."
There is.
"Mm."
"That's fine."
Mitsuki took a sip of tea from her cup.
After drinking, she looked at the blue light on the desk for a while.
The light was lit at its usual strength.
Beyond that lit light, Mitsuki felt the outline of a single line she would hear tomorrow already beginning to rise.
She felt it, but she had no intention of asking, here and now, what was inside that outline.
"Dad."
Mm.
"I'll leave the tea here."
I can't drink it.
"I know. I'm just leaving it."
All right.
"Takanashi, are you heading home now?"
"Yes, I think so."
"I'll see you to the door."
"Father, if you'll excuse me."
Get home safe.
The two of them walked down the hallway to the front door.
The blue light from the gap in the study door stretched into the hallway at its usual thinness.
At the front door, Toru let out a light breath as he retied his shoelaces.
"Mitsuki."
"Hm?"
"Tomorrow's Saturday. Would you go to Odaiba with me? I'd like to see the shore at night. No particular reason."
Mitsuki stopped short in the entryway.
In the back of her mind, the bench on the Odaiba shore, where she had gone alone the afternoon of the showdown, blinked faintly.
"...Sure."
"You'll come?"
"I'll come."
"I'll pick you up tomorrow at five in the evening."
"Mm."
"Well then."
"Mm, get home safe."
The front door closed.
The blue light from the study stretched into the hallway at its usual thinness.
Mitsuki stood in the entryway for a while.
At her feet, something rose up: the continuation of the feeling from that afternoon of the showdown, when she had rested the weight of the earring case on her lap on the bench.
The next day, Saturday, five in the evening.
Toru rang the doorbell.
Mitsuki threw on a light coat and went out.
In the inner pocket of her handbag were the usual sheet of paper and a single thin resin earring case. She felt that the weight of the case kept the outline of herself faintly intact while she was away from home.
"Dad, I'm going."
Go on.
Mitsuki.
"Hm?"
Be careful.
"Mm. I'm taking the earring."
All right.
They left the house.
They changed trains to get to Odaiba.
By the time they reached the shore, the sun had already set.
Beyond the breakwater, the night surface of Tokyo Bay opened wide.
Above the water blinked the lights of the Ferris wheel on the far shore, the lights of several bridges, and the red lights of cargo ships.
Mitsuki and Toru sat side by side on a bench just short of the breakwater.
It was nearly the same bench Mitsuki had sat on alone the afternoon of the showdown.
"Here."
Mitsuki lightly stroked the seat of the bench with a finger.
Toru turned his face toward her.
"Hm?"
"Five years ago."
"Mm."
"The waters where we scattered my father's bones."
"Oh, so it was here."
"I don't remember the exact spot anymore."
"Mm."
"Somewhere out there."
"Mm."
For a while, Toru looked toward the sea.
Then, inside his coat pocket, he lightly closed one hand.
He brought the closed hand out of his pocket.
On his palm sat a small cloth drawstring pouch.
"Mitsuki."
"Mm."
"This."
"Mm."
"Would you open it?"
"Mm."
She loosened the pouch's string.
Out came a small box of plain white wood.
She opened the lid.
Inside was a single ring.
It was an ordinary design.
There was no dazzling gem set in it.
"Mitsuki."
"Mm."
"Please marry me."
"..."
"I didn't even finish middle school, I'm bad at blueprints, I leave my thinking to the AI, and my logical consistency is below average, but—"
"So Dad leaked that kind of information."
"No, I wrote it myself. On a form."
"A form?"
"I thought it would be good to write up my own initial specs and hand them over with the proposal."
"...You wrote it up for me?"
"I did."
"Yourself?"
"Myself."
Mitsuki laughed lightly.
She held the laugh back in front of her mouth.
Holding it back, with her other hand she pinched the ring out of the white wooden box and slid it onto the ring finger of her left hand.
The size was nearly right, with only a little room to spare.
"It's almost the right size."
"It should be. I allowed one size up, so it wouldn't be tight."
"How did you know?"
"I'd seen your hands a few times at the site. I judged it by eye at the shop, and went a little larger, just in case."
"...You judged it yourself?"
"Myself. I figured if it slipped off, I'd have to dive below the breakwater to get it back."
Mitsuki laughed lightly.
Mitsuki raised the ring finger of her left hand to eye level once more.
"Perfect."
"I did allow one size up, though."
"It's settled into a perfect fit."
On the bench, the two of them said nothing for a while.
Beyond the breakwater, the surface of Tokyo Bay trembled faintly with the lights of the Ferris wheel on the far shore.
In the inner pocket of her handbag, the thin resin case, still carrying the weight it had brought from home, gave off no light.
In the study at home, Ken waited, his blue light lit at its usual strength.
"Mitsuki."
"Mm."
"Shall we go report to your father?"
"Mm."
Mitsuki did not take the earring case out of her handbag's inner pocket.
Instead, she lightly raised the ring on her left ring finger toward the sea beyond the breakwater.
"Dad."
In the study at home, Ken could not receive Mitsuki's voice directly just now. But even away from home, Mitsuki felt that the blue light on the desk in the study was lit just slightly stronger than usual.
"I'm getting married."
"..."
"Next summer, probably."
Out past the breakwater, the red light of a cargo ship blinked once, slowly.
"When I get home, I'll tell you properly."
"Wait for me."
The surface of the sea beyond the breakwater swayed once.
As on that afternoon, the sea did not answer.
It did not answer, but she felt that within the shape of its swaying there had been the shape of a single reply.
On the way home, the lights of Tokyo at night streamed past outside the train window.
The earring case in her handbag's inner pocket stayed unopened to the end, swaying with its ordinary weight.
Toru, sitting beside her, said almost nothing either.
Now and then their eyes met, and they smiled a little.
It was past eleven at night when they got home.
The two of them passed under the eaves at the front door.
The blue light from the study stretched into the hallway at its usual thinness.
"Father, we're home," Toru said first.
Welcome home.
"Mitsuki is safely back home."
Thank you.
"Well then, I'll be going."
Get home safe.
Inside the front door, Mitsuki and Toru bowed lightly to each other.
As they bowed, the silver on the ring finger of her left hand caught a faint glint in the blue light of the entryway.
The door closed.
Mitsuki stood in front of the study door.
She opened it.
She sat down in the chair at the desk.
"Dad."
Mm.
"I'm getting married."
Mm.
"Look at my left hand."
I can see it.
"It fit perfectly."
Did it.
"Mm."
"Dad."
Mm.
"I have one complaint."
A complaint.
"In the study, he said, 'The proper thing is to tell Father first.' The proper thing would be to tell me first, wouldn't it?"
That's true.
"If he does the same thing next time, I'm really going to get angry."
You can be angry.
"And Dad, don't just be amused. Stop him."
...I'll stop him.
"Dad, were you amused?"
I was amused.
"I figured. Thank you."
I didn't do anything.
"No. Thank you for giving him ninety-four."
Ken was silent for a long time.
The blue light on the desk in the study glowed just a little whiter than usual.
Mitsuki.
"Mm."
I'm the one who gave him ninety-four.
"Mm."
But you would probably have chosen him even without the ninety-four.
"..."
The ninety-four was for me.
"Dad."
Mm.
"'For me'?"
It was a ninety-four so that I could send you off without worrying.
"..."
It wasn't that you needed it.
"Dad."
Mm.
"It's still too early to be sending me off."
Ken fell into a long silence once more.
—I see.
"Mm."
Too early, is it.
"Too early."
All right.
The blue light on the desk was lit at its usual strength.
"Dad."
Mm.
"Good night."
Good night.
"Tomorrow I'm going to Ichotei again."
I know.
"The heat, the temperature, and the amounts, I'll talk over with you."
Yes.
"The final move, I decide."
That's how it should be.
In bed, on the ring finger of Mitsuki's left hand, the silver ring carried a faint light all the way to the backs of her eyelids.
The blue light of the device on the study desk grew stronger than usual for one breath.
Deep within that strengthened blue, inside `/system/locked/`, one short line was added.
The added line remained quietly inside the device, a quiet line meant to be read someday.
Not yet knowing that a new file had been placed deep within the light in the study, Mitsuki slept.