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Chapter 11 - The New Routine

The morning sun filtered softly through the shoji screens, casting delicate patterns of light and shadow across the tatami floor. The familiar scent of miso soup and steamed rice was absent, replaced by a lingering stillness that unsettled young Catherine. She rubbed her eyes and sat up in her futon, glancing around her neatly kept room adorned with colorful origami cranes hanging by the window.

Slipping into her slippers, Catherine padded down the hallway toward the dining area. The house felt unusually quiet, each step echoing slightly against the wooden floors. As she approached the kitchen, she noticed the table was set for two instead of the usual three. Her father, Eric, sat alone, sipping tea and reading the newspaper. His face was partially hidden, but there was a rigidity in his posture she hadn't noticed before.

"Good morning, Papa," Catherine greeted softly, trying to shake off the unease creeping into her chest. "Where's Mama?"

Eric lowered the newspaper slowly, his eyes meeting hers with a fleeting softness before they hardened again. "Good morning, Catherine," he replied. "Your mother is resting. She won't be joining us for breakfast today."

Catherine's brow furrowed. "Is she feeling unwell? Can I go see her?"

He hesitated for a moment, the slightest flicker of discomfort crossing his face. "No," he said firmly. "She needs peace and quiet. It's important we let her rest."

"Oh... okay," she murmured, sliding into her seat at the table. A plate of toast and fruit awaited her instead of the usual breakfast Hana would prepare. Catherine picked up a piece of toast, her appetite diminished. The silence between them was thick, broken only by the faint rustling of Eric turning a page.

After a few minutes, Eric cleared his throat. "Catherine, we need to discuss some changes."

She looked up, her large eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and concern. "What kind of changes?"

He folded the newspaper neatly and set it aside. "I've arranged a new schedule for you. From today onwards, we'll be focusing more on your studies and personal development."

She tilted her head. "But what about playtime? And when Mama feels better, can we still go to the park?"

Eric's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "For now, we'll prioritize your education. With your mother being like this, you've scarcely gone to school, even though it's only your second year. It's important for you to excel academically. In the afternoons, I'll be teaching you some physical exercises."

"Exercises?" Catherine repeated, trying to comprehend. "Like the games we play during recess?"

"More structured than that," he replied. "Discipline and strength are essential. You'll understand as you grow older."

She looked down at her plate, her small hands fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth. "If I do well, will Mama be happy?"

Eric's expression softened briefly. "Yes," he said quietly. "It's important to your mother that you become a strong and capable person like her."

Catherine nodded slowly. "Then I'll do my best."

"Good," he replied, standing up. "Finish your breakfast. Your first lesson starts in thirty minutes in the study."

As he left the room, Catherine sat quietly, processing his words. The house felt different—a subtle shift from warmth to something colder, more structured. She missed the sound of her mother's humming in the kitchen, the gentle touch of her hand guiding Catherine's as they folded paper cranes together.

After breakfast, Catherine went to her room to change. She chose a simple dress and tied her hair back meticulously, wanting to present herself properly for her father. Glancing toward her windowsill, she noticed the origami crane she and Hana had made together. She picked it up gently, tracing the delicate folds with her finger.

"I'll make you proud, Mama," she whispered, placing the crane back with care.

In the study, Eric had laid out several textbooks, notebooks, and writing instruments on the desk. As Catherine entered, he gestured for her to sit.

"Today we'll begin with mathematics," he stated, his tone measured. "Pay close attention."

She nodded earnestly, focusing her attention on the numbers and equations he began to explain. The concepts were challenging, but she was determined to grasp them. Time passed methodically, broken only by Eric's instructions and her quiet responses.

By midday, Catherine's mind felt stretched, but she didn't complain. They paused briefly for a simple lunch, and then the lessons resumed—this time focusing on language and writing.

As the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the room, Eric stood up. "That's enough for now. We'll continue with physical training in the dojo."

Catherine blinked, rubbing her slightly strained eyes. "Physical training?"

"Yes," he affirmed. "It's important to keep the body as sharp as the mind. Follow me."

They moved to a cleared space in the house where mats were laid out. Eric began teaching her basic stances and movements, emphasizing balance and control. Catherine found the exercises unfamiliar but intriguing.

"Focus on your center," he instructed, adjusting her posture. "Strength comes from within."

She tried her best to mirror his demonstrations, her small frame moving with growing confidence. Despite the fatigue starting to creep in, she felt a faint spark of accomplishment when she managed to replicate a sequence correctly.

As the day drew to a close, Catherine sat on the porch steps, watching the sky transition to hues of pink and orange. The garden that Hana tended to so lovingly seemed quieter, the flowers gently swaying in the evening breeze.

Eric approached, standing beside her silently for a moment. "How are you feeling?"

"A little tired," she admitted, "but I'll be ready for tomorrow."

He placed a hand on her shoulder—a gesture that was both reassuring and unfamiliar. "You're adapting well. Keep up the effort."

She looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of the warmth she associated with her parents. "Papa, when will Mama be joining us again?"

He gazed out into the distance. "It's hard to say. She needs time."

Catherine nodded slowly. "I hope she feels better soon."

"So do I," he replied softly. "In the meantime, we must focus on what's ahead."

That night, Catherine lay in her bed, sleep eluding her. The house was enveloped in silence, the kind that presses in on you and amplifies every creak and whisper. She hugged her stuffed rabbit close, a gift from Hana on her last birthday.

Closing her eyes tightly, she whispered into the darkness, "Goodnight, Mama. Wherever you are, I hope you can hear me."

Determination welled up inside her. If following this new routine would make her father happy and bring her mother back, then she was willing to do whatever it took. With that resolve, she finally drifted into a restless sleep, the shadows of uncertainty lingering at the edges of her dreams.

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In the days that followed, Catherine adhered strictly to the schedule Eric had laid out. Mornings were filled with intensive studies—mathematics, literature, science. Afternoons transitioned into physical training, where she learned discipline through martial arts and conditioning exercises. Evenings were reserved for quiet reflection or additional reading.

Playtime became a distant memory, reserved only for fleeting moments when she glanced at her origami cranes or caught sight of neighborhood children laughing outside. She pushed aside any feelings of envy or longing, reminding herself of her goal.

Eric remained steadfast in his approach, his interactions with Catherine courteous but devoid of the playful affection she once knew. He rarely mentioned Hana, and any inquiries were met with the same deflective responses.

Despite the growing emptiness she felt, Catherine channeled her emotions into her tasks. Each accomplished lesson and perfected movement became a step toward restoring the family harmony she desperately missed.

One afternoon, during a brief break, she sat in the garden, observing a butterfly fluttering among the flowers. Its delicate wings carried it effortlessly from one blossom to the next.

"You're free," she whispered to the butterfly. "Do you think Mama will be free soon too?"

The butterfly lingered momentarily on a blooming lily before taking off into the sky, disappearing from sight. Catherine sighed and stood up, brushing off her skirt. There was still work to be done.