Reminiscence. Heart of Stone

Reminiscence. Heart of Stone REMINISCENCE Heart of Stone

My first social gathering, at six years old, opened my eyes to how others perceived our family.

“Oh? Is that Suou … ? I had no idea he was already back in Japan.”

“Is the child behind him his son? This is the first time I have ever seen him…”

“Yes, this is apparently his first social gathering. I believe his name was…Gensei. Still, for both of his parents to show absolutely no concern for their small child like that—well, I suppose that’s the Suou family for you. It’s impressive, in a way…”

“Even the boy doesn’t seem to care… He seems…relaxed, I guess you could say? He doesn’t really act like a child, though. That family truly is…”

An extremely capable, yet cold-blooded family—that was how the elites of high society viewed the Suou name. And my father, the head of the Suou family, was the very embodiment of that reputation.

“Our Suou family has protected and supported this nation for over eight-hundred years. Being born as my son into the main family of such a lineage means that you were a public servant from the moment you drew your first breath. Never forget that you exist for the public good, and never let yourself be led astray for personal gain.”

My father was flawless in every regard, bearing the dignity and burden of our prestigious lineage without the slightest imperfection; naturally, he expected nothing less from my brother and me.

“Gensei, you forgot Mr. Inoue’s name a moment ago, didn’t you? In social gatherings such as this, remembering the faces, names, family businesses, and recent affairs of the attendees is the bare minimum. Therefore, forgetting someone’s name is absolutely unacceptable. Make sure this never happens again.”

While my mother was equally capable in social settings, she was cold toward her own family at home. From the moment I was born, I had never once felt any parental affection from either of them. And yet, I never found myself resenting them or even questioning it. Though they weren’t kind, my parents were respectable figures, worthy of admiration, and never spoke anything but the truth. I looked up to them and took pride in living up to their expectations. But my brother, two years younger than me, didn’t seem to feel the same.

“Are you not frustrated?”

“Why would I be?”

“Because Mom and Dad always lecture us… My classmates’ parents all play and go shopping with them, but our parents always just…”

“But they’re ordinary families, right? We’re Suous, so you can’t even compare us. And while we’re at it, do something about that pathetic, timid way you speak.”

My brother was certainly capable and never brought shame to the Suou name, but he was also inexplicably spineless. Timid and overly cautious, he constantly observed our parents’ expressions to gauge their mood…and he observed mine as well. His behavior irritated me. It disgusted me, especially since I was painfully average, despite being the eldest son of the Suou family. If he hated being scolded and lectured so much, then why didn’t he try to work harder?

Unlike myself, cursed with mediocrity, he had everything he needed to meet our parents’ expectations and could have easily done so if he’d possessed even a shred of determination. So how dare he grumble about our parents while ignoring his own lack of effort? Surely, he was the one who’d inherited the brilliance of the Suou line, and I got their cold-bloodedness. Our parents were flawless examples of what it meant to be Suou, but fate had damned them with disappointing successors.

“The one who builds his network at Seirei Academy and succeeds in joining the First Light Committee shall become my successor.”

It was only natural, then, that my father imposed that condition in order to determine the next head of the Suou family. He had probably already seen the shortcomings in both my brother and me, and was likely considering a member from outside the main family as his successor if necessary.

“I wonder if Dad hates us?”

From then on, my brother began to voice his anxieties and frustrations more often. Maybe, in his own way, he was depending on me as his older brother, but even then, I couldn’t bring myself to sympathize with him. All I felt was disgust toward a brother who came to me with complaints I could only see as petty.

“It’s not about liking or disliking anyone. As the head of the Suou family, it’s only natural to choose the most suitable individual to become the successor. More importantly, how about you start working harder to meet our parents’ expectations if you’re worried about being hated so much?”

I kept pushing him away until eventually, he stopped speaking to me altogether. Day by day, his defiance toward our parents intensified, and before long, he began constantly running away from home.

I, however, dismissed it as nothing more than teenage rebellion and didn’t give it much thought—instead immersing myself entirely in my studies. Unlike my brother, I was painfully average, so simply keeping up with the classes at Seirei Academy was a challenge, never mind preparing to become a diplomat.

Though I was outmatched by my brother in nearly every way, there was one ability I possessed that stood above the rest: an uncanny instinct for recognizing talent. I could gauge a person’s intellect just by looking at their face and reading their expressions, assess their physical capabilities through the way they moved, and determine if they were trustworthy after a single conversation. When I spent enough time around someone, I could even pinpoint their specific strengths and the environment where they were most likely to thrive.

Thanks to this unique gift, winning over my peers at the academy came naturally. I created opportunities for the capable to shine, regardless of their background or gender, and dismantled the influence of the incompetent who had coasted on status alone. Perhaps because I myself had no exceptional talent despite being born into a prestigious family, I never discriminated based on status, either, which seemed to have worked in my favor.

“I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for you!”

“You were the only one who saw value in me when no one else even spared me a glance. Wherever you go, I will be right there behind you.”

“You saved me. If you ever need anything, you let me know, and I will drop whatever I’m doing to help you.”

Before long, capable individuals who admired me began to rally around me, and with their support, I was able to secure a position in the First Light Committee immediately after graduating from high school, despite my own mediocrity.

“Well done, Gensei. You have lived up to your status as the Suou family’s firstborn son. I hereby recognize you as my official successor.”

“I am so proud of you. You have grown into a fine young man. Please continue to live up to the expectations that your father and I have placed upon you.”

That might have been the first time my parents praised me without reservation. Their recognition made me genuinely happy and proud. As groundwork for becoming the head of the Suou family, I pursued diplomatic studies after entering university, all while expanding my personal network. I built connections with promising individuals, sometimes investing in them, and steadily increased my influence within the First Light Committee. Meanwhile, I also searched for a suitable partner to become a diplomat’s wife and was formally introduced to several women by my parents.

With the exception of what was going on with my brother, who had essentially abandoned our home, everything seemed to be going smoothly…when news broke of an infectious disease outbreak in the country where my father was stationed.

One night, I received an international call from my father, who told me my mother had contracted the infectious disease, that she was unconscious and in critical condition, and that he had contracted the disease as well. I was confused by the news and began to panic…when my father scolded me over the phone.

“Pull yourself together, Gensei! Nothing good will come from you losing your nerve!”

His words hit me like lightning as I gasped, snapping back to my senses. My father gave me as many orders as he could before ending the call, explaining he still had matters he needed to convey to his subordinates and colleagues as well. Even with his wife teetering between life and death and his own health at risk, my father stood firm as a public servant, unyielding to the very end.

“It is your duty to take over for the Suou family when I die, Gensei.”

Those were the last words my father ever spoke to me. Just hours later, his condition took a sudden turn for the worse, and he passed away in that distant land, almost simultaneously with my mother.

When the news eventually reached us, my brother broke down crying…but I didn’t shed a single tear.

“Pull yourself together, Gensei! Nothing good will come from you losing your nerve! What you must do now is fulfill your duty as a Suou!”

My father’s words—the words of a man who embodied the Suou spirit until his last breath—etched themselves deep into my heart. If he were here, he would have scolded me if I had even thought of crying, and he would demand I carry out my duty as a Suou. So I didn’t shed a tear. Instead, I simply fulfilled my duties as the new head of the Suou family.

Even with the instructions my father gave me before his death, the days that followed were terrifyingly busy and chaotic. Due to the circumstances surrounding their deaths, bringing my parents’ bodies back to Japan proved incredibly difficult as well. Yet, against all odds, I managed to give them a proper funeral in the end.

It was then, for the first time in ages, that I finally got to speak with my brother.

“There’s still work I must do as the head of the family, but there are some areas which I simply cannot manage alone. I need your cooperation.”

However, my brother frowned and replied:

“No.”

“What?”

“I said no. Why would I help you?” my brother snapped. Though I was slightly surprised by his defiance and how his demeanor had completely changed over the past few years, I replied calmly.

“While you may not be the head of the family, you are still a Suou. Don’t you think you should help the family, now that our parents have passed away?”

“I’m a Suou? Help the family? To hell with that. That’s your logic, not mine!” my brother shouted, as if spewing out everything he had held inside these past few years.

“I’m sick of this! I’m sick of this family name—of all of you! Even on his deathbed, our father didn’t have any last words for me—his own son. Not that I was expecting any fatherly affection anymore, but damn, he really was a terrible parent. But he was still our father! They were still our parents! So of course, it hurts that they’re gone! Of course, I’m going to cry! And yet! You didn’t even shed a single tear at their funeral! And the first thing you say to me is that? You want to talk about the family ? Do you even have a heart?!”

I didn’t even know how to respond to his outburst as he fiercely glared at me before turning on his heel.

“Maybe I would have helped if you had comforted me even a little when I was crying. But it’s too late now. I’m leaving. I don’t need any of the inheritance, so do whatever you want with it.”

And with that, my brother left the Suou residence. In the end, I couldn’t find the right words to stop him and could only watch his back grow smaller as he walked away. Once my brother was gone, I was truly alone, buried in the endless responsibilities of the Suou family, but no matter how busy I became, his parting words still lingered in my mind.

“Do you even have a heart?!”

Maybe he was right. Maybe I really didn’t have a heart. Looking back, I couldn’t recall a single moment where I genuinely showed my brother any kindness. I respected our parents, but if asked whether I loved them, I wouldn’t be able to answer with certainty. No… Deep down inside, I probably didn’t love them. If I had, I probably would have at least shed a tear at their funeral.

“Is it true that you turned down every single prospective marriage partner you were set up with?”

For the first time in ages, I met up with some friends from university at our usual caf é …when one of them suddenly asked me that question.

“…Yes.”

“What?! Why?! What a waste! That means you turned down the extremely intelligent and famous Ms. Ousaka, too, right?!”

“I even heard you turned down the young lady from the Kujou family as well! You really turned everyone down?!”

“Yes.”

“What?!” my friends cried in disbelief.

Each of the candidates came from prestigious families and possessed the education and ambition that would make them ideal wives for a diplomat. But no matter which of them I married, I could only imagine a future that mirrored my parents’ relationship. Of course, up until recently, I thought that was acceptable, but…

What would I do if we had a child who turned out like my brother? Would I simply watch in silence as he walked out the door, unable to give him the love and warmth that he desires from his parents?

And when I thought about it that way, I couldn’t bring myself to marry any of them. What my future wife needed wasn’t pedigree or perfection, but…

“Sorry to keep you guys waiting! Here are your three hot coffees and one espresso.”

One of my friends raised an eyebrow at the female waitress who brought over our drinks.

“Oh! Uh … ? Are you new?”

“Yes, I started working here last week. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” She smiled brilliantly. She wasn’t particularly beautiful, and my first impression of her was that she seemed utterly ordinary.

“This isn’t what I ordered…”

“Huh? Ah! I-I’m so sorry.”

My second impression of her was that she went beyond simply being ordinary. She was dull-witted as well. Yet, for some reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Initially, I assumed it was the novelty—the result of being surrounded only by exceptional people my entire life. However, she continued to intrigue me, and I began frequenting the caf é often, even by myself.

“Oh, Mr. Suou. Nice to see you again so soon.”

“…Yes.”

We grew more familiar, and during quiet hours at the caf é , we would make small talk, but my impression of her remained the same.

“Which is why they’re saying that it’s crucial to start building ties with those developing countries in that region.”

“Oh, really?”

“…Do you even understand what I’m saying?”

“Hmm… I understand that it’s all very difficult?”

She was slow-witted, lacking in knowledge and refinement. Yet she never stopped smiling and listening earnestly to my stories—dull as they must have been to her. She was always polite and kind to everyone and never spoke ill of others or complained.

“That’s love.”

“Kimishima… What are you talking about? That makes absolutely no sense.”

“Oh, come on. You find yourself going to that caf é to see her whenever you have free time, right? And before you realize it, you’re following her with your eyes. That’s love.”

Love. I never thought I was capable of such an emotion. And yet…I strangely felt as though I could build a warm, loving home with her. I was sure that, unlike my parents or myself, she would shower her family with kindness and affection.

“Hmm… Kimishima, teach me how to court a woman.”

“What … ? What?! Uh… Oh! Well, uh… Hmm… Why not buy her a gift? Something women like. And…how about flowers? Traditionally, when men ask women out, they dress up in a snappy suit and hand them a bouquet of dark red roses… At least I think they do.”

“Hmm… I see.”

Following my friend’s advice, I bought every gift I could think of: jewelry, bags, hats, wallets—the sort of things my former arranged marriage candidates had adored. Truthfully, I couldn’t picture her enjoying any of them, but I had no idea what else to get, so I got everything I could carry. I also made sure to get a large bouquet of red roses. Nevertheless, it turned out to be more than I could manage alone, so I eventually had to ask my friend to help me carry everything.

“Come on, you bought way too much! This is, like, a year’s worth of gifts!”

After that, I led my grumbling friend—who had paper bags in both hands—to the usual caf é , then presented the bouquet of roses to the wide-eyed waitress and said:

“Marry me.”

“…What? Whaaat?!?!”

“Wh-what?!”

Both she and my friend were utterly stunned, and the caf é owner berated me, demanding that I take it outside because the smell of roses was making his eyes water. Yet somehow, my ridiculously unconventional proposal worked, and we became engaged.

She didn’t seem to know much about my family, and when I finally invited her over, astonishment struck her once more. Furthermore, when I began to explain who the Suou family was, she looked at if steam were about to come out of both ears.

“U-uh… Do I really belong here? I… I don’t know how to talk to important people, and I don’t know much about manners, either, much less anything about foreign people or their cultures…”

She looked visibly dazed, as if the weight of it all had finally hit her, so I assured her in a fluster:

“You don’t need to worry about that. All I ask from you is to build a warm, loving family.”

“What … ? That’s all I need to do?”

“That’s all you need to do.”

“…Then I think I’ll be okay, because I love kids!”

Seeing her radiant smile convinced me that I had made the right choice. Whether as my fianc é e, my wife, and eventually as a mother to my children, she never changed. She always wore that luminous smile, listened with genuine interest to my dull stories, and was a woman who was happier with a simple flower than a lavish gift.

“It looks like we’re out of vases!”

“Hmm…”

She rubbed her large belly and smiled in a troubled manner in the hospital room.

“…I apologize, but I don’t know any other way.”

I didn’t know how to make women happy, so I always got her a bouquet of flowers that I thought she would like.

“Making women happy is easy. All you have to do is look them in the eye and tell them you love them!” She laughed.

“That’s…”

I couldn’t bring myself to say it. Words like “ I love you ” or “ I like you ” felt too precious to be casually spoken by someone who lacked a heart. Simply uttering the words would forever taint them, and so I never did.

“Oh, you’re so silly… Ah, I know!” she said, as though she had just had an idea, while I lowered my head and frowned.

“How about from now on, whenever you want to express your love or gratitude to me, you go to the florist and get just a single flower—the most beautiful one you see that day?”

“…Only a single flower? Are you sure?”

“Of course. In addition … ,” she continued, gently rubbing her large stomach and her young son sleeping by her side.

“…Please give our children heartfelt presents on their birthdays every year. And when the day comes where they speak of their dreams to you, I want you to give them your full support.”

“ … ! That’s…”

Perhaps it was only natural for a parent to completely support their children’s dreams, but it was never something that I could promise so easily as the head of the Suou family. What if both our children chose paths other than diplomacy? Who then would succeed me? Who then would carry on the Suou name? Burdened by those thoughts, I simply couldn’t give her a straightforward answer. Yet in the midst of my hesitation…

“And if necessary, I promise to work hard until I can bear you a child who wants to become a diplomat,” she casually exclaimed, as if the solution really was that simple.

“Hm?! V-very well. I—I can do that.”

“It’s a promise, then.”

“…Yes, it’s a promise.”

“Hooray! Then there’s nothing to worry about. I will raise these two with all the love in my heart.” She smiled, gently rubbing our son’s head and the unborn child still resting in her womb.

“So you just focus on what you need to do, because I love you for exactly who you are.”

Those words, that smile—they stayed with me, etched into my soul, even then.

“Dad! Mom is…!”

Once again, I was told of a tragedy involving my family over the phone. If I had immediately left for Japan, then perhaps I might have made it in time. I might have been able to hold my wife’s hand in the hospital room and pull her back. However…

“So you just focus on what you need to do, because I love you for exactly who you are.”

“Pull yourself together, Gensei! Nothing good will come from you losing your nerve! What you must do now is fulfill your duty as a Suou!”

The words of my wife and father echoed in my mind. Furthermore, I had an important conference related to Japan’s national defense scheduled for the next day as well.

“ … !”

I agonized over the decision for a few seconds—a long few seconds—and then…

“…Take care of your mother. I’ll be there as soon as the conference is over.”

I chose to be a Suou. By the time I finished all my duties and returned to Japan, my wife had already passed away.

“Mom … !!”

“ Sniffle … Hic!”

It seemed I truly did not have a heart. Even as I stood before my wife’s still body in the hospital room, even as our son and daughter wept beside her, not a single tear ran down my cheeks. I simply did what I had to do as the head of the Suou family.

What I did feel was an inexpressible sense of loss, as though the fragile sprout of a heart that had just begun to grow inside me had been torn out at the root. That sense of emptiness became irrevocable when our son died in an accident not long after. From that moment on, I buried myself in the responsibilities of the Suou name, clinging to them as my only refuge from grief I could neither understand nor face.

“Dad! I’m going to become a diplomat! I’m going to become a diplomat and take over for the Suou family in my brother’s place!”

My daughter started making such claims after my son’s death, but I had made a promise with my wife.

“That’s not what I need from you.”

Furthermore, as far as I could see, my daughter lacked the aptitude to become a diplomat. Therefore, asking her to shoulder the same role as her late brother would have been cruel, especially when she had even less natural ability than I did.

“Don’t even think about trying to replace Naotaka. All I need from you is to find a husband worthy of the Suou family name. That’s it. You’re free to do whatever you want as long as you do that.”

Nevertheless, my daughter gave up her dream of becoming a pianist and set her sights on becoming a diplomat instead. If that was her choice, then so be it. I decided to let her pursue her new dream until she was satisfied, while I dedicated myself to my work abroad.

However, one year later, when I returned to celebrate my daughter’s birthday as I had promised my wife, I was aghast at what I saw. Her cheeks were hollow, and her eyes were lifeless. The daughter standing before me was nothing like the girl I remembered.

What had I been doing all this time? I had devoted myself entirely to my work as the head of the Suou family and as a diplomat. Even when I heard that she had been wandering around late at night, I left everything to the family doctor and never once checked on her myself, despite there being no one left to offer her the love and warmth of a family.

“…You seem to have lost a lot of weight.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“…All right.”

Yet, even then, I still didn’t know how to speak to my daughter. The only way I knew how to show kindness was the way my wife had taught me. I tried to be there for her, increasing the time I spent in Japan, but that was all I could manage. I felt that any words I could offer would only push her further into a corner, and so in the end, I didn’t say anything at all.

“Kimishima, I am considering hiring someone to take care of Yumi. Do you know of anyone like that?”

“Like a maid of some sort? Hmm…”

“How well they perform at work isn’t the priority. What I need is someone who can show her love and affection. Do you know of anyone who can do that?”

“In that case, if I may be so bold, how about my wife? She is already acquainted with your daughter, and with our son recently moving into a dormitory, as of late she seems to have a bit more time on her hands.”

“Really? Then could you ask her for me?”

“Of course.”

All I could do was depend on those more capable than myself, just as I had relied on my wife to raise our children. The days went by and I immersed myself in my work once more…until one day, my daughter brought a boy home.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Kyoutarou Kuze. Yumi and I have been dating for the past month.”

I could immediately tell that he was a boy brimming with talent and—more importantly—that he was someone who, like my wife and son, could offer my daughter the warmth and affection I never could.

“Yumi, I want to speak with him alone. Please give us a moment.”

Once we were alone in the study, the boy nervously squeaked:

“Yumi told me about the Suou family and explained the situation! And I am prepared to become a diplomat in order to earn your blessing to be with her!”

He seemed to be jumping to conclusions, so I told him:

“Don’t worry about that.”

“Uh … ?!”

“…What I want from you…is to show Yumi kindness and affection.” I lowered my head. “I beg of you.”

“Wh-what?! Please raise your head!” the boy said, panicking. Then he smiled and declared, “I am still going to become a diplomat, because I want to become the man that Yumi deserves.”

The boy ended up becoming a diplomat as promised and grew into a strong, respectable young man. He became my son-in-law and gave me two grandchildren with my daughter. Their children, too, were gifted, showing signs of both talent and the same warmth and kindness that had defined my wife and son.

“…”

The Suou family, once known for its cold-blooded nature, was slowly changing, transformed by my wife and the children she raised. I alone remained unchanged. I’d had a heart of stone from the moment I chose to be a Suou over being a husband. Perhaps it was far too late to change even now, even if given a real heart.

If I hadn’t been a Suou, I would have been there when my wife died. If I hadn’t been a diplomat, my son wouldn’t have lost his life. And yet, knowing all this, I chose to remain both a Suou and a diplomat. How could I possibly become a loving father to my daughter or a devoted grandfather to my grandchildren now? If I were truly capable of that, then why couldn’t I have been a husband who comforted his wife or a father who mourned his son when it mattered most?

I will live my life until the end as a Suou…and die as one.

I had no other choice. Therefore, even when my grandchild tried to leave, just like my younger brother once did, I responded not as a parent or a grandfather, but as the head of the Suou family.

“That’s not the only reason though, right? Deep down inside, you allowed Masachika to leave…because you wanted him to forget about the Suou name. You wanted him to be truly free. Am I wrong?”

My kind son-in-law offered those gracious words, but he was overestimating me. I merely did what was right as the head of the Suou family. Nothing more. There was no kindness or affection in my actions. No matter what I did, I was a Suou… A foolish father and a terrible grandfather.

In a cemetery crowded with countless memorials, Gensei stood in a secluded corner. Before him was a gravestone—neither imposing nor ornate, but simple and unremarkable like countless others. However, this was not the Suou family’s ancestral grave where generations of Suou members slept. It was the humble resting place of his wife and son.

“Masachika—your grandson…and your nephew—came home for the first time in ages…and he brought a young lady with him as well from, of all families, the Kujou family.”

He spoke with the same detached expression and indifferent tone.

“I heard the youngest daughter of the main family practically ran away from home…and now, it seems that this young girl from that very family is classmates with our grandson. She must take after her grandmother. She’s fiercely determined and ambitiously driven.”

He suddenly relaxed his expression slightly, a faint smile on his lips.

“I don’t know if it’s because he was influenced by her, but Masachika confronted me head-on, declaring that this was war…and for some reason, it reminded me of Yumi back when she brought Kyoutarou home,” he noted with a hint of amusement. Gensei then let his smile fade as he gazed blankly into the distance and whispered, “You were right.”

His words were swept away with the breeze, and when the time was right, he turned on his heel.

“I’ll come back soon,” Gensei muttered over his shoulder. The gravestone behind him watched quietly as he left, and in its shadow, a lone pink orchid swayed gently in the breeze.