Zoro remained silent.
Today, the child had just turned three. It was natural not to understand what death meant or what happened to those who died.
'I should tell him.'
Zoro didn't know how to sugarcoat the death of a parent. Even if it were possible, this wasn't a topic to be glossed over with a plausible lie.
Megumi was Chie's child, too. Though young, he had the right to know about Chie's death, even if the details didn't need to be fully explained yet.
So, Zoro replied succinctly.
"She can't come."
"Why?"
"Those who have died can't return."
There were rare exceptions, like Brook or Zoro himself, who had returned from death... But well, Brook had eaten a Devil's Fruit in his lifetime, and even Zoro couldn't return to his original world.
Even the curse Chie left behind had now forever departed from Zoro.
She cannot return.
Megumi spread his fingers wide apart.
"Even if I sleep this much?"
"Even if you sleep ten nights ten times more."
Megumi couldn't yet calculate exactly how much time that would be, but he understood it was a very long time.
"Never see her?"
"That's right."
The little hands slowly fell. The pink lips pressed tightly shut.
Megumi might not have understood death well, but Zoro did. When Zoro said something couldn't be done so definitively, it meant it was impossible. Whether Megumi threw a tantrum, cried, screamed, rolled on the floor, or calmly explained his wishes.
Nothing ever changed.
Nothing at all.
Tears welled up in the green eyes. Curled up in Zoro's embrace, Megumi clenched his fists tightly.
"Why..."
Everyone else has one. The bears in storybooks, the kids on TV, the children they meet on the streets. They all have a Mama who holds their hand, smiles, and stays by their side.
Why do I, why am I the only one...
Megumi sobbed softly. Zoro pulled him closer into his embrace.
"I want to see her."
"You've already seen her, Megumi."
"I don't remember!"
What her face looked like, how she hugged him, what her voice sounded like, what she said.
"I don't knoow..."
"..."
"I don't know!"
As Megumi cried with hiccupping sobs, Zoro held him tightly.
"Go away, you!"
Megumi said this, kicking Zoro with his feet. Of course, Zoro didn't feel any pain, but he let go of Megumi as he showed a gesture of refusal.
Feeling unjust and resentful, Megumi huffed and glared at Zoro with teary eyes.
"You're mean, brother."
"..."
"Because of you, because you—"
"Megumi."
Startled by the sudden appearance of Toji, who had been silent, Megumi stopped crying abruptly.
Toji, having overheard their entire conversation due to his exceptional hearing, carefully lifted Megumi from Zoro's embrace and comforted him in his own.
He softly said,
"Don't say mean things to your brother."
Chie's death wasn't Zoro's fault. Nor was it wrong for Zoro to have told Megumi about it. It was Toji who should have explained it but found the memory too painful, so Zoro did it in his stead.
'Zoro won't be hurt by just being blamed, but for Megumi's sake, it's better to stop him from saying such things.'
"It's best not to say or do things you might regret, Megumi."
By the time you want to correct them, it might be too late.
That was one of the few truths Toji Zenin could teach his child.
"…uh, uh..."
Megumi no longer blamed Zoro and quietly sobbed. Toji slowly stroked Megumi's back. Zoro glanced at the sleeping Tsumiki and then back to Megumi.
After a while, when the tears had stopped, Megumi looked at Zoro.
"Say sorry to him."
"…sorry, s-sorry."
"It's okay."
It really didn't bother him. Zoro reached out and gently stroked Megumi's hair. With a slightly anxious look, Megumi asked,
"But you won't die, right?"
Zoro hesitated, then smiled bitterly.
"...Everyone dies someday, Megumi."
No matter how strong someone is, even if they're the strongest, they can't avoid death. Even those who had evaded death in various ways in their previous lives, in the end, faced it. Having already experienced death once made Zoro even more reluctant to simply say, "I will."
Megumi's complexion turned pale.
"No!"
"..."
"Don't die."
Zoro couldn't promise something he might not be able to keep. Despite Megumi's pleading not to die, Zoro couldn't just say, "Okay."
He just stayed by Megumi's side. Continuously.
...
Megumi was laid to bed, exhausted from crying. Toji went to the kitchen to make a cold wet towel and wiped around Megumi's reddened eyes, quietly saying,
"Weren't you a bit too harsh?"
He was still a child. It was natural to feel anxious about the death of a mother and fear that other family members might also die. He could have lied to reassure him by saying that he wouldn't die.
Zoro looked tiredly back at Toji.
"Can you promise me that you will never die?"
"..."
"See."
Everyone dies eventually. Especially for people like Zoro and Toji, their lives are practically on the edge of a knife. They couldn't possibly make a promise never to die.
If they said they wouldn't die and then died, that would be a huge shock to Megumi as well. Being honest was the best Zoro could do.
That's not to say it was the right thing to do.
"...It's hard."
Couldn't there have been a better way to tell him? A way to lessen the pain a little.
...But the death of a family is inherently tragic, and the grief of loss is also a part of love.
It was just heartbreaking that this had to happen to Megumi.
"I'm sleepy."
"Then sleep."
Toji stroked Zoro's head. Zoro held the small, curled-up body of Megumi in his arms and tried to fall asleep.
It was a particularly longing day.
...
For the next few days, Megumi quietly lingered around Zoro without saying much. Zoro didn't explicitly point out his anxious behavior and quietly accepted it.
Then, on the day before Toji's birthday, Megumi sat quietly next to Zoro, who was training at home, and softly said,
"I want to see Mama."
Zoro's lifting of the weights stopped abruptly in mid-air. That was significantly different from the 'I miss Mama' Megumi had been saying.
Slowly placing the weights down, Zoro squatted to be at eye level with Megumi.
"Are you sure?"
"No."
It wasn't okay. Still, in Megumi's heart, the hope that maybe Mama would come back and the desire to hit Zoro for saying she wouldn't return coexisted.
But still, he felt like he needed to see.
"..."
Zoro carefully examined Megumi.
Even when it seemed far off, at some point, they grow up surprisingly. There's no need to grow up so quickly.
'Mother and father too…'
Did they feel the same looking at me?
…I'm sorry.
Silently watching his sibling, Zoro took out his cell phone from his belt and called Toji, who was out on a mission. After hearing what Zoro had to say, Toji was silent for a moment before replying shortly,
"...I'll be there soon, wait for me."
True to his word, Toji soon returned home. Taking the children in the car, he drove straight to the cemetery where Chie was buried.
Standing at the entrance of the cemetery, Toji covered his mouth with his hand. His stomach churned. It felt like everything inside him wanted to come up. His head throbbed as if it would split open, and he wanted to run away right then.
But this time, he had to go.
He had promised.
If young Megumi could face it, there was no running away for him.
Zoro took Toji's hand, and with his other hand, he took Megumi's.
Together, they stepped forward. Chie's grave wasn't far.
That's how Toji, for the first time, stood in front of Chie's grave.
"..."
Chie's grave was clean. Of course, there were faint traces left by rain and weather, but because Zoro occasionally stopped by to water and clean it, it was neat.
That was all. Beyond its cleanliness, there was no sense of anything special about the ordinary grave.
However, the name inscribed on the tombstone was far too heavy.
'...I'm here.'
Nothing more would have been needed if only she could tell him he was late.
No matter how much he drank, even in dreams, the face that never appeared before him didn't show up this time either.
Standing still next to Toji, looking at the tombstone as if he had forgotten how to breathe, Zoro placed down a bouquet of white flowers he had bought on the way.
Megumi glared at the characters inscribed on the tombstone. She couldn't read them. The same was true for Tsumiki, who asked cautiously,
"What's the name?"
"Tanaka Chie."
Just as her name Chie (千愛: a thousand loves) suggested, she was someone who gave much love.
Megumi reached out to touch the tombstone. It felt no different from ordinary stone - cool and slightly rough. He called out, Mama, but like any stone you might step over on the roadside, no sound came back.
"..."
Only then did Megumi understand why Zoro had so clearly said that Mama couldn't come back.
This wasn't Mama.
Mama might be here a little, but that couldn't be Mama.
As Megumi staggered and took a step back, Zoro caught him. Zoro closely observed Megumi's face, but there were no tears. He was still a young child, so it was natural he couldn't perfectly hide his sadness. He tried hard not to let it show, attempting to bear it alone... much like Zoro himself.
Zoro sighed internally.
'Why did you have to be so much like me?'
He had never imagined feeling such sorrow seeing someone resemble him.
Zoro then glanced at the tombstone, silently invoking her name in his heart.
'Chie.'
I'm showing her to you, Megumi.
Am I doing the right thing?
Being like me could make things difficult for this child. Zoro knew his path in life wasn't easy; nobody knew that better than he did himself.
Hence, seeing his younger brother trying to stifle tears in front of the grave of a loved one brought Zoro an indescribable mix of emotions.
Tsumiki hugged Megumi tightly, and Zoro, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and relief, met Megumi's gaze.
"Megumi."
Megumi directly looked back at Zoro with reddened eyes, a change from a few days ago when he had clung to Zoro, anxious and clearly disliking being away from him.
It was both bitter and regrettable, yet also something Zoro felt proud of.
"I'm your brother."
No matter what dreams you chase.
Even if you spend time with others besides me.
Even if our paths diverge, and you aim for something different.
Even if we end up on opposing sides.
No matter what anyone else might call you.
I am still your brother.
Zoro's way of life is filled with hardships, and Megumi, having observed and learned from him, would likely face many challenges as well.
He couldn't promise to always be there for every moment.
But, someday.
"When you're faced with a situation you can't handle on your own."
Remember to call for me. Okay?
Because I will be there, for you.
"…Aaaaah!"
Unable to hold back any longer, Megumi burst into tears and threw himself into Zoro's arms. Tsumiki, also crying, joined them in Zoro's embrace.
Toji gently stroked Zoro's hair as he held his children. Zoro pretended not to see the fleeting tears in his father's eyes.
It was the moment when the family was finally all together.
...
Days passed, and Toji's birthday on the last day of the year was quietly celebrated. There were no grand celebrations or gifts, but being with his children was enough for Toji.
Then, one day after Toji's birthday, it became January 1st.
The beginning of 2006.
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