Just as he was about to head for the bath, Kuroha Akira hit a sudden snag in his plans: Shinomiya had nothing to change into afterward. She was still in her sailor uniform. She couldn't very well re-don her school clothes after bathing, and letting her go without… well, that was definitely not an option.
"Hey, Baa-chan," he called out. "Do you still have any clothes from your youth? Could you lend her something?"
"I don't keep young girls' clothing lying around. For now, she can wear your sportswear."
"Huh? Then what am I supposed to wear? Are you trying to make me sleep in my school uniform?"
As established, Akira's wardrobe was tragically sparse: his school uniform and a set of sportswear. The summer shorts and tee were currently in the laundry. The only remaining set was the long-pants and jacket combo. If he gave even that to Shinomiya, he'd be left with only his winter uniform.
Sleeping in a heavy, layered uniform in the height of summer? That was a special kind of torture. He'd be a sweating, sleepless mess.
"Um, I can just keep wearing my uniform…" Shinomiya offered hesitantly.
"You've been on the move for two days, haven't you? Your clothes need washing."
"Mmm…"
Girls were sensitive about such things, and Shinomiya was no exception. The idea of putting back on clothes she'd worn for days was… unappealing.
Seeing her troubled expression, Granny Kobayashi let out a short sigh. "Enough of your fussing. I'll find you something to wear. I think there are still a few pieces of my old man's loungewear somewhere…"
"You… kept Grandpa's clothes?" The question slipped out before Akira could filter it.
Granny Kobayashi, usually so unflappable, stiffened for a second. She brought a hand up to cover her eyes, as if to hide a flicker of vulnerability. Custom dictated that clothes of the deceased be disposed of, but she had quietly kept a few items out of sheer sentimentality.
This small act spoke volumes. Granny Kobayashi's love for her husband hadn't dimmed in the slightest since his passing. Though slightly embarrassed to have it exposed, she decided to own it.
"I couldn't bring myself to throw them away, so I kept them. Is there a problem with that?" she retorted, her tone daring him to challenge her.
"Of course not! But why didn't you mention this treasure trove earlier? I've been roasting in my school uniform all this time!"
"You don't mind? These are clothes once worn by the departed."
"Why would I mind? Grandpa Kobayashi is a legendary figure to me. I respect him too much to mind."
"Hmph…"
Though met with a dismissive sniff, the subtle upward curve at the corner of Granny Kobayashi's mouth betrayed her true feelings. A wife couldn't help but feel pleased when her husband was admired.
With her hands clasped behind her back, she turned toward her room. "Come along, then. I'll have a look."
"Right behind you! I'll pay my respects to Grandpa while I'm at it."
Seeing she was about to be left alone in the living room, Shinomiya tentatively raised a hand. "Um, Granny Kobayashi… may I come too?"
"Of course you may! My old man adored lovely children like you, Shion-chan. His granddaughter was his favorite person in the world."
"Thank you."
The two youths followed Granny Kobayashi into her first-floor room. Inside stood a family altar set up for the recently passed Obon festival. On it rested a portrait of Grandpa Kobayashi, offerings of fruit and water, incense sticks, and a homemade 'spirit horse' Akira had crafted by sticking chopsticks into an eggplant.
Usually, the altar was simpler, but it had been arranged for Obon—Japan's equivalent of Ghost Festival or Tomb-Sweeping Day, typically observed from August 13th to 16th, a brief summer break for working adults. Though the festival was over, Granny Kobayashi, missing her husband, hadn't hurried to put it away.
Akira lit a stick of incense. Shinomiya quickly followed suit, offering a respectful bow.
As she rose, she took a closer look at the portrait. Grandpa Kobayashi was a kind-faced old man, his photograph capturing a gentle, benevolent smile.
"Ah, here we are! Just as I thought—a jinbei the old man wore when he was younger."
For clarity, this jinbei wasn't the fish-man martial artist, but a traditional Japanese summer garment for men—a lightweight, comfortable loungewear, somewhat akin to what one might wear in a sauna.
Granny Kobayashi held out the folded garment to Kuroha Akira, but as he reached for it, she kept a firm grip on the fabric, fixing him with a stern, meaningful look. "Treat these with respect. Don't you dare ruin them. And wash yourself thoroughly before you put them on. I won't have you dirtying his things..."
"I know! Are you giving them to me or giving me a lecture?!"
"Alright, alright… go on. After your bath, remember to bring your sportswear down for Shion-chan to wear."
"Yosh! Onward to the bath!" Snatching the clothes, Akira dashed from the room, leaving Shinomiya alone with Granny Kobayashi.
A slightly awkward silence settled over the space. Shinomiya stood with a posture that was almost painfully proper.
"There's no need to be so tense, Shion-chan. Make yourself at home. Really."
"Yes…"
"I do owe you an apology for earlier," Granny continued, her tone softening. "While I own other properties and could have offered you temporary lodging elsewhere, I made a promise to my old man. I won't break it. You are not the person I am meant to help, so I truly cannot take you in under the Kobayashi name."
Ah, a promise. Just like the one she'd made with Akira-kun.
The thought made Shinomiya's lips curve into a natural, understanding smile. If it were her, she wouldn't want to break such a promise either.
"It's alright, I understand. Granny, you must have loved your husband very much, didn't you?"
To Shinomiya's surprise, Granny Kobayashi's expression didn't brighten with fond remembrance. Instead, a complex, wry smile touched her lips. "Love him? I loved and hated him… though I suppose, in the end, the love outweighed the hate."
This answer took Shinomiya aback. Given how preciously Granny had treated her husband's clothes, Shinomiya had assumed she was a woman who, like her own mother, had dedicated herself entirely to love. But that didn't seem to be the case?
"Huh? Why would you hate him? Wasn't he your husband?"
Granny Kobayashi's demeanor shifted suddenly. Her hands clenched into tight fists, her knuckles whitening. "Of course I hated him! Just thinking about it makes my teeth ache! It's only because he's gone that I can say this… Do you have any idea how many women I had to fight because of that man?"
"Mmm…" Shinomiya could only nod, wide-eyed.
"Don't let that harmless face in the photo fool you. He had a silver tongue and a heart that wandered. If I started listing his romantic entanglements, I wouldn't finish in three days and three nights! A widow he was involved with since his student days, nights spent at a geisha's house, rumors of local wives in other towns…"
"Was… was Grandpa Kobayashi really that kind of person?"
"Unfortunately, every word of it is true."
"..."
Shinomiya's face remained a perfect, placid mask, but internally, her image of the benevolent grandfather shattered into a million pieces. So he was a scoundrel grandpa…
"But," Granny Kobayashi declared, a triumphant glint in her eye as she raised her left hand, showcasing the simple platinum band on her ring finger, "I won in the end. Hmph! The reason I bear the name Kobayashi now is because I fought for it myself."
"Granny, you're amazing…"
"Which is why, Shion-chan, you should pay close attention."
"Eh? Me?"
"I see my old man's shadow in that boy. If you've truly taken an interest in him, you'd best keep a sharp eye on him. Otherwise, you'll live to regret it."
It was advice from a veteran, born of hard-won experience. And just like that, Kuroha Akira—who hadn't even begun to walk the path of a scoundrel—was preemptively branded with the potential to become one.