It was just past noon in Uji. A soft lull settled over the farmhouse, that quiet hour when the babies napped and even the wind seemed to take a break. The sun filtered lazily through the paper screens, casting warm amber tones across the tatami mats. Outside, the green rows of tea plants shimmered in stillness, as if the earth itself was pausing to exhale.
Phuby stood in the kitchen, stirring a pot of bubbling miso soup. Hana had taken the morning shift with the twins, and now it was his turn to prepare lunch while she napped beside their cribs. He worked quietly, trying not to clatter the ladle or let the wooden cupboard doors creak too loudly.
His life had become a delicate rhythm—timed between feeding, napping, cleaning, tending to farm orders, checking invoices, and slipping in moments of peace when possible. Not that he minded.
He looked up as soft footsteps approached behind him.
"You're supposed to be resting," he said without turning.
"I was," Hana mumbled, still half-asleep, rubbing her eyes. "But I smelled tofu and seaweed."
Phuby chuckled. "Ah, the wife's sixth sense."
She hugged him from behind, pressing her cheek against his back. "It's unfair how you can cook well and still look relaxed."
He smiled and glanced at the stove. "Give it ten more years, and I'll be using a cane while stirring."
"You'll still be handsome," Hana teased.
They ate quietly at the low table by the engawa, just the two of them. The twins were still sleeping, and the house was unusually still—Emi Fujiwara wouldn't come until tomorrow, and the workers were busy managing the greenhouse and weeding outside the tea rows.
Hana sipped her miso and looked out at the garden.
"Do you ever feel like… we're too young to have all of this?"
Phuby glanced up. "Sometimes. But then I remember how hard we worked for it."
"We?" she teased.
He rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay. Mostly me and my mysterious cashback fairy."
She grinned, but then her gaze turned thoughtful. "I've been thinking…"
"Dangerous," Phuby said immediately.
She smacked his arm playfully. "Seriously. I've been thinking about the future. The kids… the business… and something else."
He paused. "What something else?"
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded flyer—a paper she'd picked up at a small cultural center in Kyoto last week. It was in both Japanese and English, a glossy pamphlet titled:
"Uji Heritage Program – Teach the Next Generation"
"It's a volunteer education program," Hana explained. "They're looking for locals who can teach farming, sustainability, or cultural traditions to school kids on field trips. Especially those with small farms like us."
Phuby blinked. "You want to teach?"
"Not full-time," she said quickly. "But I thought, once the twins are older, we could host weekend workshops. Show kids how tea is harvested, or how strawberries grow. Maybe let them feed chickens if we get some."
He sat back, genuinely impressed. "That's… actually a really great idea."
She bit her lip. "You think so?"
"I do." He reached for her hand across the table. "It's perfect. It gives something back to the community without turning this place into a tourist trap. It gives the kids fresh air. And it'll make Haru and Yui proud of where they grew up."
She smiled and leaned forward. "Then we'll think more about it."
After lunch, Phuby stepped outside to check on the greenhouse. The newly installed Smart Greenhouse Kit, purchased a few weeks ago, had become an incredible upgrade to their little plot. Inside, the temperature was perfectly controlled, and the seedlings—mostly heirloom vegetables—were thriving.
Yuji waved from the back, holding a tray of sprouting greens.
"All going smoothly?" Phuby asked.
Yuji nodded. "No pests. Moisture's perfect. It's like the greenhouse is smarter than us."
Phuby grinned. "It probably is."
They chatted briefly about the harvest schedule and the next shipment going to a café in Kyoto, and then Phuby returned to the house.
As he passed through the genkan, a notification pulsed on his phone.
[System Notice – Passive Mode Active]All standard functions running. No tasks pending.💡 Tip: Sustainable community outreach may trigger new opportunity pathways.
"Huh." He tapped the message but it faded like a wisp.
"More riddles," he muttered. "I thought the system was taking a break."
He tucked the phone away and headed inside. Hana was already preparing a bottle for Haru, who had begun his post-nap fussing. Yui was quietly awake, staring at the sunlight patterns on the ceiling with wide eyes.
"I had another idea," Hana said while shaking the bottle.
Phuby groaned. "You're on a roll today."
She smiled. "What if we made a recipe blog? Like… not just tea and strawberries, but all the dishes we make here. Japanese fusion, Indonesian home cooking, and whatever weird combo you come up with."
He tilted his head. "Actually… that's not bad."
"Right? You film, I write. We call it From Farm to Futon or something dumb like that."
"Genius," he said, grabbing a notebook and already scribbling.
That night, after dinner and bath time and a long lullaby session, the house fell into silence again. Phuby walked out to the garden alone, staring up at the stars.
He felt something shifting inside—like the stillness before a new season.
A whisper of something bigger, but not yet clear.
He took a deep breath and looked up.
"Alright, universe," he said. "We've planted the seeds. Let's see what grows."