Chapter 24: This Priest Needs Some Popcorn
The scent of incense and flowers hung heavy in the air, clinging to Mina's clothes and sinking deep into her lungs. The priest's steady recitation of sutras blended with the quiet sound of her brother Kaoru's soft weeping. Her red-rimmed eyes remained fixed on the white casket behind the priest as he continued his chants.
She held Kaoru's hand tightly. He wore a small black suit jacket, a white button-up shirt, a tiny clip-on tie, and black shorts, socks, and shoes. He wiped at his tears with his sleeve, but they wouldn't stop coming. Mina herself wore a black kimono—something she hadn't worn in years—but she'd wanted to look her best to honor her mother.
The incense smoke curled in the air like drifting memories, making her eyes sting. She wasn't sure if it was from the smoke… or something else.
In the Takayama family's private temple, it was only her, Kaoru, her mother's most faithful attendants, Kaito, and the priest. Banri hadn't shown up—not that she expected him to. He hadn't come during her mother's final moments, so why would he bother with the funeral?
Most of her aunts, uncles, and cousins hadn't come either. They'd barely known her mother—a sister-in-law they rarely saw. And they certainly didn't get along with Banri, their own blood relative, whose behavior many considered a stain on the family. Why would they care about his neglected wife?
Kaito was the only cousin who had come of his own accord. Raised differently from the rest, he was expected to take over the family after their grandfather. Supporting even the isolated or overlooked members of the family had become a personal goal of his—because, to him, that's what a good future head should do. While that reasoning sometimes annoyed Mina, she was still grateful. He was, at the very least, better than the others who offered only cold indifference.
He stood behind them in a crisp black suit, hair neatly styled, head bowed, hands folded in respect. He didn't have strong feelings for this particular aunt—but he was there for Mina.
"We're here to honor the life of Misami Takayama. Friends and family may now come forward, light the incense, and offer a short prayer on her behalf," the priest said, pausing his chants as his eyes crinkled with a gentle smile.
Mina stepped forward. She gazed down at her mother's face. Though illness had wasted her away in the end, they had done their best to restore her appearance—leaving her looking peaceful, and almost beautiful again. Her hair had been brushed into smooth waves, and light makeup had been applied to soften her pale features.
She lit a stick of incense and bowed her head in prayer.
'If there's a next life after this… I hope you find happiness and freedom,' she thought, a single tear slipping down her cheek.
The heat from the incense tingled faintly in her nose. She pressed her hands together and closed her eyes.
When she finished, she knelt beside Kaoru and gently showed him how to light the incense and pray. He watched her closely and mimicked her movements with trembling hands.
"Mommy, please think of Kaoru and be safe until Kaoru can see you in the next life," he mumbled, eyes shut and hands pressed together. "I hope I can be your baby again."
Mina's eyes welled up again at his small, sincere voice. She smiled gently, brushing a hand through his hair.
"You'll always be Mommy's and my baby," she whispered.
Kaito and the rest of the maids came up one by one. Most kept their prayers silent, so the room remained hushed. But then Mina heard a collective gasp from the maids.
She looked up to see the maids—and Kaito—bowing toward the entrance of the room.
A tall, dignified man had just walked in. He wore a black tailored suit, and his salt-and-pepper hair was neatly trimmed and styled. His sharp eyes swept across the room with quiet authority as he stood ramrod straight. He raised a hand, signaling for everyone to stop bowing.
It was Akio—her grandfather.
"I apologize for arriving late," he said calmly. "No need to bow or pay attention to me. This is about Misami, after all." With his hands clasped behind his back, he walked toward the casket.
Mina's eyes widened in surprise. Her grandfather? Here?
She felt a flicker of anger—followed by confusion. Why had he come to her mother's funeral?
Akio stood silently before the casket, gazing down at Misami's face. After a few long seconds, he bowed deeply and brought his hands together in prayer.
Mina watched, her fists clenched and trembling ever so slightly. She didn't even notice the iron-tier aura leaking from her body, causing the room to feel suffocating.
Akio slowly opened his eyes and turned toward her. With a calm expression, he used his own silver-tier power to easily suppress the aura she was unintentionally releasing.
"Even if you have something to say to me, control your aura," he said, his eyes shifting briefly to the pale-faced Kaoru and the other non-Awakeners in the room. "You'll end up hurting others if you let it run unchecked. You've grown sloppy while you've been away."
Mina wanted to argue, but she knew he was right. She'd nearly put Kaoru and the maids in danger. She inhaled deeply, then closed her eyes to collect herself. After a few breaths, she opened them again.
"Why are you even here?" she asked, her voice more composed.
Akio's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her face. After a moment, he replied, "No matter what, she was my daughter-in-law. She gave this family two exceptional children. It's only right I come to pay my respects. My only regret is that I didn't have more time to visit her while she was ill."
Mina's vision blurred. Rage clawed at her chest, but she forced her voice to stay steady.
"You—You didn't visit her at all while I've been here," she said, her voice low and shaking. "She did well? She brought two exceptional children into this family? What a joke. She lived miserably in this house from the day she married into it—because of that beast of a son you raised."
She felt Kaoru squeeze her hand; he seemed a little distressed by the sudden hostility that had come over her. She gently squeezed back to comfort him.
One of Misami's former maids opened her mouth to speak, but Kaito silently raised a hand in front of her, shaking his head. The woman pressed her lips together, brow furrowed, and said nothing.
Kaito sighed inwardly. He already knew what the maid had wanted to say.
Unknown to Mina, their grandfather had actually visited Misami nearly every night in secret. He would sit by her bedside for hours, using his powers and acupuncture techniques to ease her pain. But if he had chosen to keep it secret, there was nothing Kaito could do to correct Mina's misunderstanding.
Akio had never come openly. It was his way of protecting them—keeping those with unchecked ambition from turning their attention toward Misami and her children.
In a family like theirs, where unity was often just a facade, politics and underhanded tricks were constant weapons. Many wore the mask of concerned relatives while hiding their true motives. Mina didn't yet understand the full extent of the internal and external conflicts the head of the family had to manage.
Kaoru nervously bit his finger, his eyes flicking between his sister and grandfather.
"I see," Akio said, his tone as calm as ever. "Your mother deserved at least this much respect. As for Banri… I can't control him. He's a fully grown adult who makes his own choices. All I can say is that I failed to raise him properly when he was young—and for that, I'm sorry."
"Ha!" Mina scoffed. "What an excuse."
Akio stared at her for a long moment. For just a second, Mina thought she saw something flicker in his expression—softness, maybe even some remorse. 'But that's impossible,' she thought, brushing the feeling aside.
"Just as you've made your own choices, regardless of how you were raised, children do the same. Some make decisions that make their parents proud… others make choices that bring quiet grief and shame. I'm sorry."
Kaito and the maid both widened their eyes. Mina had actually gotten the proud family head to apologize not once—but twice. But Mina didn't seem moved. She just let out another snort, ready to fire back a retort.
Akio, however, didn't give her the chance. He turned toward the exit and walked with steady steps, his footsteps echoing softly through the room.
"I have some things to take care of. My apologies for my brief stay," he said, turning his head.
Without waiting for a response, he walked out the door. Mina stared at it blankly, a heavy emptiness filling her chest. Was that really what she had wanted to say to her grandfather after three years?
"Sister." A crisp voice broke her from her thoughts. She turned to look down at Kaoru. He hesitated once he had her attention, fiddling with his fingers. Mina waited patiently.
"Yes," she said gently, most of her earlier negative feelings gone.
"Um, I know you're upset with Grandpa, but he's not that bad… Actually, Kaoru sees him sometimes when he uses the restroom at night. Sometimes, he rubs my head while I'm sleeping. His hand is really warm," Kaoru said, with glossy eyes.
Mina smiled at him. Kaoru probably imagined it—or dreamed it. She wouldn't crush that fantasy, no matter how bad her own relationship with Akio was.
"I'm sorry, Kaoru. I'll try not to fight with Grandpa," she apologized. At least not directly in front of Kaoru.
Kaoru beamed and squeezed her hand again. They all turned to the priest, who looked like he'd been watching a show. But his expression settled so quickly, everyone thought they imagined it.
"Let us continue the service," the priest said gently. "Throughout the night, we'll ensure the incense is kept burning so Misami may find her way safely to the other side. For those who choose to stay, a simple meal has been prepared."
Everyone nodded and kneeled in preparation to stay up late.
'The drama in these rich families is so much fun,' the priest thought, keeping his composed, pious outward expression while he started chanting Buddhist scriptures again. 'I'll have something to tell my wife later. Who needs cable TV when you see family dramas like this all the time?'
No one was the wiser to the priest's thoughts.
---
Meanwhile, Akio was walking steadily down the hill from the temple. The stars twinkled beautifully above. Compared to the city, the stars were far brighter. His footsteps clacked softly against the stone steps, then shifted to a gentle swish as he reached the soft grass. The temple sat atop a small grassy hill, about half a kilometer from the rest of the estate. It was their personal temple on their grounds.
As he walked down, he noticed a figure slouched against some bushes. He stopped for a moment to observe. It was a handsome man—his face bright red, his clothes reeking of alcohol, with a half-empty bottle of sake hanging loosely from his fingers. The man sat in a drunken daze until he noticed someone watching him.
"What are you looking at, old man?" he snapped, eyes sharp and hostile.
Akio's brow furrowed as he recognized the figure. It was his youngest son, Banri.
"Do you know who you're talking to?" Akio asked, a threat laced in his otherwise calm voice.
A sardonic smile spread across Banri's face, "E–even if I'm drunk, I won't–hic– forget the face of my old man," he slurred out, pushing himself to stand up. The sudden movement caused his stomach to spin. He keeled over and puked into the bush.
Akio watched as he vomited, completely drunk out of his mind. A flicker of derision flashed in his eyes as he looked at the son he once had great expectations for—now nearly passed out, intoxicated, and indifferent to who might see him, only a few yards from the temple where his own wife's funeral was being held.
"Are you feeling ashamed, Banri? Is that why you're getting drunk out here, not daring to walk in?" Akio's voice was unusually sharp and icy, a break from his usual calm tone.
Banri wiped his mouth and frowned. He turned his eyes to Akio and stood up again, this time speaking a little more clearly.
"Me? Ashamed? Not a chance. I just got lost while having a drink, that's all."
A long silence followed as Akio studied him carefully.
"Banri, you're a grown man in your forties, so I won't lecture you like a child," Akio said slowly, straightening his back and folding his hands behind him. "Perhaps your abhorrent actions are a form of childish rebellion against me, but I assure you—your choices hurt you far more than they hurt me." He turned his head to glance back at the temple.
"You had a good wife. And you still have good children. But once you're done with these immature stunts, you'll realize there's no one left who truly cares about you. You can't live your whole life off other women and alcohol, Banri. Perhaps one day, you'll feel sorry… and by then, it'll be too late," he finished with a sigh.
After saying his piece, Akio turned and walked away, leaving Banri behind with nothing but the crickets and stars for company.
Banri sneered and took another swig from the bottle in his hand. He swallowed and muttered to himself, "My lifestyle isn't wrong. Why would I regret it?"
He turned his eyes toward the temple and raised his bottle in its direction.
"Yeah… have a safe trip to the other side, Misami."
A flicker of her face crossed his mind—the last image he remembered. He frowned. 'Was she always that thin?' he wondered. He couldn't recall the last time she'd smiled or laughed at him, either.
He brushed the thought aside.
"I'm drunk," he mumbled as he stumbled away.