Chapter 67: Departure from LA
The golden hour bled across the driveway, turning the cracked asphalt into a path of warm, dusty light. Jasmine clung to the air, thick and sweet, mingling with the damp scent of earth from the overgrown garden beside the garage. The rusted swing hanging from the massive oak tree moved slightly in the breeze, a silent metronome.
Taichi heaved his duffel bag into the bed of Noah’s truck, next to the toolboxes and a coiled lasso. The solid thump of it landing felt final. He’d done this a dozen times—leaving for school, for away games—but never like this. Never with this particular weight in his chest, part dread, part exhilarating lightness.
Noah finished securing the tailgate, his movements efficient. He wiped his hands on his jeans and turned back toward the house. The screen door creaked open.
Yuuko emerged first, followed by Susumu and a visibly pouting Hikari. They formed a loose semi-circle on the driveway, a quiet audience to the departure.
“You boys drive safe, now,” Susumu said, stepping forward. He extended his hand to Noah. His grip was, as always, firm and testing. But this time, he held it a beat longer, his eyes locking onto Noah’s. “You take care of that truck. And my son.”
Noah, for once, seemed at a loss for his easy charm. He just nodded, his voice unusually gravelly. “I will, sir. Promise.”
Susumu gave a single, solemn nod of approval. It wasn’t a smile, but it was better. It was a treaty.
Then Yuuko moved. She went straight to Noah, her steps quick and decisive. Before he could react, she pulled him into a hug. It wasn’t one of those polite, pat-on-the-back things. It was full and warm and motherly, her head barely coming to his chest. Noah stiffened for a second, surprised, then slowly let his arms come around her, his large hands resting gently on her back.
She whispered something, her voice a hushed murmur only for him. Taichi saw Noah’s eyes close tight. He saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. When Yuuko pulled back, her own eyes were bright, but she was smiling. Noah blinked rapidly, looking down at the asphalt as if searching for lost words.
“Thank you for the chicken, ma’am,” was all he managed, his drawl thick.
“You come back anytime,” she said, patting his arm. Then she turned to Taichi, and her composure wavered. She cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing his cheeks. “You call us. Not just texts. I want to hear your voice.”
“I will, Mom.”
She pulled him in, kissing his forehead, and he breathed in her familiar scent of citrus soap and incense. “Be happy,” she whispered, so soft it was almost inaudible.
Then Hikari launched herself at him, her arms locking around his waist like twin vices. Her face was buried in his shirt. “Don’t go,” she mumbled, her voice muffled.
“I have to, bug.”
“No. You just got here.”
“Hikari,” he said softly, prying at her arms. She only tightened her grip.
It was Noah who crouched down beside them, his movement slow and easy. “Hey, champion,” he said, his voice gentle. “You gonna hold up the whole rodeo? We got miles to make.”
Hikari peeked one eye out at him. “So?”
“So,” Noah said, a grin tugging at his lips. “I was gonna make your brother promise we’d come back for your next big soccer game. But if you break his ribs right now, he might not heal in time.”
Hikari’s grip loosened a fraction. She turned her head fully. “You’d come?”
“Try and stop us.” Noah’s tone was dead serious. He held out a hand, pinky extended. “Deal?”
She studied his face, then her brother’s. Reluctantly, she unwound one arm and linked her pinky with his. “Deal.” She let Taichi go, but immediately threw her arms around Noah’s neck, surprising him again. “Bye, Noah.”
He patted her back, his expression momentarily stunned, then impossibly tender. “Bye, kiddo.”
The goodbyes were done. The space in the driveway suddenly felt too wide. Taichi gave his father one last nod—a communication of miles and unspoken things—and slid into the passenger seat. The old truck’s interior was warm, smelling of leather, dust, and Noah.
Noah cranked the engine, the sound jarringly loud in the quiet street. He gave a final wave out the window, then put the truck in reverse.
Taichi twisted in his seat, watching through the side mirror. His family stood together, growing smaller with every foot of asphalt. Yuuko had her arm around Hikari’s shoulders. Susumu’s hand was raised in a still wave. They were a snapshot framed in the dimming rectangle of the mirror, bathed in that forgiving golden light.
His throat closed. It was too much. The acceptance, the whispered words, the pinky promise, the way his father had looked at Noah. It was a gift so profound he didn’t know how to hold it. He faced forward, blinking hard, the suburban streets blurring into streaks of green and grey.
They drove in silence for ten minutes, until the neighborhoods gave way to the flat expanse of the highway on-ramp. The truck merged with the steady flow of traffic, the setting sun glaring off the windshields ahead.
Noah’s right hand left the gear shift. It didn’t go to the wheel. Instead, it came to rest on Taichi’s left thigh, a solid, warm weight through the fabric of his jeans. His calloused thumb stroked once, back and forth.
“You okay?” Noah asked, his eyes on the road.
Taichi took a shuddering breath, the tightness in his chest finally cracking. He covered Noah’s hand with his own, lacing their fingers together right there on the seat, in the open, where anyone driving past could see.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice rough. He looked at their joined hands, then out at the wide-open road stretching ahead, painted in the last furious colors of the sunset. “I’m okay.”
Noah just nodded, his grip tightening. He didn’t let go. Not for miles.