28 Prologue - With Mother and Father

Hiccup, I had a dream.

But I sleep better, so I'm a tough guy to forget from one end of the spectrum that I had a dream.

So the dream was also forgotten at the same time as I woke up.

Speaking of which, I feel like I've had those dreams too. It was only after everything was settled.

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In my dreams, I was as little as I had just entered elementary school.

My father is drinking beer and supporting Hikari's baseball team on TV.

Mother, standing in the kitchen, carving onions or something.

It's like a home drama in Showa, it's a common scene.

My mother died of a sudden illness when I was seven years old and in second grade, so there is no comparison to reality. So I guess it's a dream that nukes what actually happened.

I wasn't really into baseball, so I made a commercial gap and talked to my dad.

"Hey. How can your father cook better, but your mother's cooking dinner?

My house was running a mass cafeteria, but I guess that was the most closed day of the week. Otherwise, the whole family can't do that at sunset time.

"Fool, you -" my father looks at me in a panic.

"What do you say all of a sudden? What are you gonna do if your mother sounds like you?

"That's why you're talking in a tiny voice.... Hey, why?

"You.... You don't like your mother's cooking, Tomorrow Too?

"Yeah. I love it," I said, shaking my puffy head, six.

With me, I think he was such a cute kid.

"But I like your father's cooking more. Your father's is the best."

If it were now, it would be a dialogue that I would never say.

And I've lost someone to say.

"Well... I'm a professional cook... it's my job to cook delicious dishes..."

and my father, who worries because of his complicated face, probably around the middle of the thirty road.

Perhaps depending on my response, I felt like I wouldn't even quit iron fist sanctions, but there's no way I could beat a six-year-old who makes a statement like this. Fuck you.

"By and large, you wouldn't be eating my meal every day, would you? You don't think I want to eat my mother's handicrafts the whole week?

"You didn't say you didn't want to eat. I just thought it was weird."

On the TV screen, the game had been restarted for a long time.

But my father has put his arms around me, "hmm".

"But I knew it was a mistake. Mother should cook at home."

"Why?"

"Why... that's because I'm a cook"

With a serious look on his face, my father said so.

"A cook's job is to cook for his guests. It's my mother's job to cook for the family at home, not the cook."

"Hmmm......?

I was only six years old, and there's no way I understood those words properly.

However, I guess it was some impressive word that I even dreamed of it this way.

A year later my mother died and I cried that I had always wanted to eat my mother's handicrafts more.