Five days later, in the afternoon, the doorbell rang. It was the day Aoi, who looked after Ken's maintenance, had come.
"Hello. It's Murota."
"Hello, Aoi. It's been a while."
"How many days until the wedding?"
"Twenty-four."
"Oh, it's already come that close."
"It has."
"Professor Ken, how are you doing today?"
I'm half a beat late.
"All the time?"
It has been accelerating since six months ago. I'm trying to keep what I can while I still can. For that much, I'm breaking down faster.
Aoi took off her shoes in the entryway and set them neatly beside the shoe cabinet. The shoes, set side by side, pointed toward the door of the study at the end of the hallway.
When she went into the study, Aoi pulled out her usual chair, set down her laptop, and plugged a cable into the port on the bottom of the device. The moment she plugged it in, the blue light grew stronger for one breath, and then returned to its usual strength.
Deep within the blue at its returned strength, Ken's voice rose.
Aoi.
"Professor Ken. Good work today."
Good work.
"You sound like Professor Kenichiro."
I'm often told I sound like him.
"Yes."
On Aoi's screen, a terminal with a black background came up, and strings of green log text flowed past, one breath, one breath at a time. Without a word, Aoi confirmed that the intervals were slightly longer than six months ago, and that the volume of the log itself had grown one breath thicker, and she gazed at the very bottom line for one breath longer than usual.
"Mitsuki. Could I have some tea?"
"Oh, sorry, I forgot to make some."
"It's fine, it's fine."
"I'll make it right away."
"Take your time."
"Okay."
Mitsuki stepped out of the study for a moment and stood in the kitchen. While the water boiled, she noticed that the sound of Aoi's keyboard coming from beyond the door was just slightly slower than usual. She understood right away that it was not because of anything in Aoi's fingers.
She poured the hot water into the teapot, and at the very end of the two breaths she let it sit, one breath's worth of Aoi's sigh came from beyond the study door.
She set two teacups on the tray. She had taken out the second one without thinking. She looked at it for one breath, and then put it back on the shelf.
On the tray, there was only one teacup.
When she returned to the study, Aoi closed the screen for one breath.
On the closed screen, the green log should still have been flowing, one breath, one breath at a time.
With that screen half lowered, Aoi took the teacup.
"Thank you."
"Sure."
"Mitsuki. Sit down. Across from me."
"Across."
Mitsuki sat in the chair across from Aoi.
In the chair, she rested her hands together on her knees.
On the ring finger of her left hand, a silver ring glinted for one breath.
Aoi's eyes followed the glinting ring for one breath.
She brought her eyes back to the laptop screen.
She opened the screen halfway, for one breath.
"Looking at it today, it's two breaths faster than projected."
"Two breaths."
"Yes."
Aoi wrapped both hands around the teacup for one breath.
Inside her hands, the warmth of the teacup slowly seeped through.
At the very back of that warmth, Aoi steadied her voice for one breath.
In that steadied voice, she said:
"Mitsuki, there's something I've never told you. There's one thing the professor made me promise."
"The professor?"
"Professor Kenichiro."
"Okay. Dad?"
"Yes."
"What did you promise Dad?"
Aoi opened the laptop screen one breath further.
Deep in the opened screen, separate from the green log, a single white window was open, showing a folder tree.
On the deepest level of the tree, there was one gray folder. Its name was "/system/locked/."
Inside it, there was only one file. The first two letters of its name were "DC."
"Mitsuki. The professor decided that no one's hand was to touch this folder until you found it with your own hands."
"No one's?"
"Not even mine. Don't look at the contents, don't rewrite them, don't delete them, don't copy them. The line the professor drew, I took into my keeping just as it was."
"Into your keeping."
"Yes."
"You agreed to that, Aoi?"
"I agreed. That's why, until now, I never told you about this folder. I'm sorry."
"No. It isn't your fault, Aoi."
"...Thank you."
"Aoi. The first day you came to the house, you said one thing. 'If instructions come from the device, then, when that time comes, follow them.'"
"...I did say that."
"'When the time comes, the device will let you know.'"
"Yes."
"So this is what that was."
Aoi looked for one breath toward the gray folder on the screen.
"...Yes. This was it. For five years, without knowing, I waited for word to come from the device. Today, it came."
For one breath, Aoi's eyes followed the last line of the log at the edge of the screen.
The timestamp at the head of that line was not from today.
"...To be precise, it was added a while ago. Today is when I noticed."
"A while ago."
"Yes."
Mitsuki was now, for the first time, reading with her own eyes the file name beginning with "DC" inside the gray folder on Aoi's screen.
"Aoi. Can I open this?"
"Yes. But I won't open it. It's my promise to the professor. You open it, Mitsuki. If there's a different promise between you and Ken, that's a separate matter."
"A separate matter."
"Yes."
Mitsuki shifted in her chair for one breath.
On the far side of her shifted posture, the blue light of the cylindrical device wavered for one breath, two breaths.
At the very end of the waver, the second breath of it was half a beat late.
Beyond that late half beat, Ken's voice rose for one breath.
Mitsuki. I won't tell you not to open it.
"You won't? Dad, do you know something?"
I know what is inside me.
"You know what's in it?"
I know.
"Since when?"
I won't give the answer to that question yet.
"You won't?"
It's a question that doesn't need an answer. For now.
"Okay."
Mitsuki let out a breath for one breath.
On the far side of the whiteness of her breath, Aoi set down her teacup for one breath.
The bottom of the set-down teacup clicked lightly, for one breath, against the grain of the wooden table.
At the very end of that sound, Aoi said:
"Mitsuki, you can open it today, or you can leave it closed. But if you open it, I want you to open it while I'm beside you."
"You'll stay beside me, Aoi?"
"I will. I'll keep my promise to the professor. But after you open it, I'll explain the technical side if you need me to."
"Okay."
The blue light of the cylindrical device on the study desk was just slightly dimmer than the brightness of Aoi's laptop screen.
Deep in that dimness, the blue light repeated its half-beat-late breath once more.
Beyond that repeated half beat, the file name inside the gray folder on Aoi's screen blinked faintly for one breath on the white window.
The blinking file name read:
DC_20XX_Termination.txt
"Aoi. What does DC stand for?"
"Dismissal Code. A code for dismissal. In other words, it's a file for an order of dismissal."
"Whose?"
"Ken's."
"Dad's Notice of Dismissal."
"That's right."
"Okay."
Mitsuki closed her eyes for one breath.
Behind her closed eyelids, the blue light of the study wavered for one breath.
At the very end of the waver, a half-beat-late breath lit faintly.
Deep within that lit half beat, there was a sense of Ken's voice about to rise, for one breath.
Behind her eyelids, Mitsuki waited one breath for that sense.
At the very end of the breath she waited, Ken said nothing.
With nothing said, the evening light in the study slowly slanted, one breath, one breath at a time.