(Yui's point of view)
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After hanging out with Himari, Yuki, Roxanne, and all the people inside the orphanage, we head back home and exchange goodbyes.
It suddenly becomes peaceful when I step inside my home. Although my parents are in the kitchen, preparing our dinner, I cannot compare to the liveliness I have experienced during my stay in the foundling home. I can only hear the sizzling meat frying in the deep oil pan mixed with the shaking bottles of cocktails.
There must be a surprise waiting on the other side of the room.
They prove my hunch as I slide to the hall. I see both my parents readying the plates to the table. The two of them see me standing in the aisle, dumbfounded about the strong alcohol in their hands. I could not stress them enough to hide those things away from me.
"This booze may help you with your performance?" My dad chuckles at his joke.
However, the girl beside him is not that impressed. Mother hits dad with her elbow, which makes him almost spill the glass on the ground. Despite the accident, my father chortles yet again.
"I told you she would come early," Mum says, while glaring at my dad.
I could not hide my laughter anymore at their amusing conversation. Regardless of my hands blocking my mouth, a peal of soft-pitch laughter escapes.
"You guys, it is already late," I tell them while marking the clock hanging on the wall.
All of them avert their gaze and follow my hands. Their eyes widen in shock after realising it is now ten o'clock in the evening.
My mother changes mood instantly and places both of her arms on each part of her waist. Her beam morphs into a hot-boiling rage of madness. But I feel that is just a facade, especially since they are my parents.
"Come on, honey. You know, kids these days, partying and stuff." My dad defends me and places the goodies on top of the table.
My mother shifts her focus to my dad and retorts, "What if those Japanese men did something to my baby!"
She is not from Japan, but a half-Korean and a half-American. Her lineage is a complicated bunch, so it is better if I have not asked. My father is Japanese, but the two of them met when they both worked at a company. Both of my parents moved to a different company here in Tokyo, Japan. Conveniently, that is where my mother lives and her relatives.
"Japanese would never do a thing to her, probably."
"Probably!" my mother screams.
"Every man would eye out our daughter. I mean, look at her." My father attempts to justify his comment but fails miserably after looking me in the eye.
He scratches his hair and apologises to me, telling me he has crossed the line.
"Japanese boys are not that perverted or creepy. In fact, I kinda like it here." I confess, while shyly looking away.
"You better be! This place is my hometown, after all!"
After my mother concludes the conversation, the three of us storm towards the dining table. Various meals and beverages greet my eyes as they lay all the delicacies on the board. It becomes more strenuous for me to choose from since all the food is my favourite.
The plates have mixed Korean and Japanese-style cousins with a pint of American snacks. Korean Bibimbap looks gorgeous on the plate. It simply translates to "mixed rice with meat and assorted vegetables," so there is a mixture of colours. There are endless variations to this dish depending on the preference of the consumer. Our parents prefer raw beef and raw egg yolk along with other vegetables.
We also have Bulgogi, the most popular Korean dish. It has thinly sliced meat with extraordinary smoke-sweet flavour.
For Japanese food, we have sushi, one of the best known Japanese foods around the world, and miso soup. Sushi refers to a dish of pressed vinegar rice with a piece of raw fish or shellfish, called a neta, on the surface. Soy sauce and wasabi go hand in hand with sushi since it brings out most of the flavour. But I am not a fan of eating that spice thing inside my mouth because of the peculiar sensation on my tongue. I prefer eating "Sabi-nuki". It means I do not want wasabi on my sushi.
The miso soup is another famous Japanese food, renowned for its great taste and health benefits. This soup is conventionally drunk, accompanied by the other side and main dishes.
My parents do not bother adding more varieties using American food. They throw all the stuff that we had in America before and place it on the table right now. The usual french fries, carbonated soda, and three pieces of burgers. It does not look good on the table, but these snacks are still cheap and tasty.
"Do not forget the proper way of eating sushi now, Yui." My mother reminds me while raising her brow.
"I know, mother," I answer.
I pick my chopsticks and grip them in my hands. My mother always tells me to turn over my sushi and apply the soy sauce to the neta (it means the toppings), rather than the rice itself. This act prevents the rice from sucking up too much soy sauce and erasing the original taste of the neta itself.
"So, uh, how is your club doing lately?" My father is the first person to speak up and strike a conversation.
It has been a sensitive topic for me to talk about, especially what they have seen before. My parents know I am nervous every time I speak up on stage. I am always afraid of the judging eyes of others or how they would react.
"It was fun," I answer and munch on the unfortunate pork belly inside my mouth.
"How fun? Do you mind if you share it with us?" My father adds, doing the same thing. He crunches the meat and takes another set of rice on his plate.
This entire thing is the first time that I enthusiastically respond to my parents. I have never felt so alive telling them what happened in the orphanage.
Fortunately, the talk with Himari somewhat changed my perspective, but not entirely. The thought strikes me every time I remember her words.
"Being good at something needs to practise, and once you become better at something, people will judge you, and that's okay."
I have not noticed my voice leaking out from my mouth. Both of my parents stare at me with confused looks, wondering what on Earth I have mumbled.
"Sorry. I was just talking to myself." I explain while brushing my hair.
"No, Yui. It is fine." My mother replies.
"We are more surprised that your friends told you that. That motivated you, right?" My father appends, still choosing the leftover meat stuck inside his tongue.
I nod in response and bow my head in my bowl. My face nearly touches the miso soup, but I pay it no mind. I am more concerned about what I have uttered than the food wetting my eyes.
"We are happy to see you having fun again on acting." With my father's words, I raise my head and look him in the eyes.
A tear passes through my eyelids knowing that it has been aeons ago that I feel delighted about my performance. I can still etch inside my head about the practice we have had with Himari and other orphan children gathering around me. They have these goggling eyes, waiting for my following lines.
These kids did not care if I was terrible or not. I do not think that they actually criticized me when I performed in front of them! They were all having fun, watching me tell a tragic story. I would bet that some of them even cried during that time.
I cannot help but express all my experiences to my parents as we continue devouring the last pieces of meat on the table. I tell them I met the secretary and the vice-president of my school, visited a foundling home, met myriads of orphan children, and Himari.
We laugh together, smile, and even cheer every time I tell them something exciting or a goal I have achieved.
"This question may be sudden to you, but can you act in front of us? You know, we have been waiting for you to gather your confidence." My father confesses as he clasps my mother's hands.
"Your father has always listened to your constant monologue inside your room. We could not watch you there and steal a peek. We knew you would fly to your bed and hide under your blankets." Mother adds.
"Okay, mom, dad. I understand." I answer and move to the middle, bringing with me a smile on my face.
But that smile changes, in a good way, as I say the first lines that I have remembered from the theatrical play of Hamilton.