Dong... dong... dong!
"Coming, coming! Who is it?" Miyamura Yui's familiar voice rang from inside the house as the knocking abruptly stopped.
"Grandma Miyamura!" / "Grandma!" came the bright, obedient voices of Akira and Shouko as soon as the door cracked open.
"Well, well, well!" Grandma Yui's smile widened when she saw her grandson and future granddaughter-in-law. She reached out to ruffle both their heads, then looked up at her son and daughter-in-law standing behind them. Her expression instantly cooled.
"What brings you two here?"
Miyamura Daiki sensed the subtle look of disdain in his mother's eyes and quickly laughed it off. "Haha! It's just that we haven't visited in a while, so I brought Akira and the others to keep you company."
"Didn't you just show up a month ago with two big fish?" Yui rolled her eyes, speechless, but gently took Akira and Shouko's hands and led them inside. As she walked, she called back over her shoulder, "Close the door behind you."
Once everyone had taken off their shoes and settled around the living room table, Shouko held out a blank envelope with both hands.
"Grandma, this is for you."
Yui accepted it with a curious smile. "Let me guess…" She examined the envelope for a moment, then turned to the kids and sighed, "You're not seriously planning to have Grandma write a letter and bury it in the ground, are you?"
Akira immediately caught her wording. "Wait... 'also'? Why did you say also, Grandma?"
Yui's lips curved knowingly. She waited until Daiki and Shizuka finished removing their shoes and joined them in the room before answering.
"That's because over ten years ago, the day before your dad and mom got married, they buried something like this too. A time capsule. Right out in the front yard."
She picked up the purplish-red capsule Akira had placed on the coffee table and gave it a little shake.
Daiki sat beside her, picked up an orange, and began peeling. "We did? I don't remember that at all..."
Just as he was about to pop a slice in his mouth, his mother snatched it away without a word. Daiki sighed and reached for another one.
"I'm not even old enough for early-onset Alzheimer's..." he muttered.
"That's right!" Shizuka suddenly exclaimed, drawing everyone's attention—except Yui, who ignored them and started writing her own letter for the capsule.
"If Mom hadn't reminded me, I would've completely forgotten! I was planning to dig it up when Akira turned ten, but we missed it thanks to someone not reminding me." She lightly smacked Daiki's shoulder and took the orange he had just peeled.
Shouko blinked in surprise. "Auntie, you buried a time capsule too?"
Cough cough. Akira cleared his throat, then leaned in to whisper to her, "Shouko, every mom used to be a naive girl once. They just grow up and change... unless they're lucky enough to stay wrapped in love their whole lives."
Shouko giggled at the unexpected wisdom but started to wonder: what was her mom like when she was younger?
"I'm finished!" Yui placed her pen down, slipped her letter into an envelope, and handed it to Shouko. "Let's go. I'll take you to bury it in the same spot where theirs is."
As they stood, Akira asked, "Grandma, how do you still remember this, when even Dad and Mom forgot?"
Yui's smile disappeared, replaced by a grumble. "Because I dig up that darn capsule every time I replant my vegetables. I always cover it back up and wait for someone to come looking. And none of you did for ten years!"
She raised her hand to whack her son again—she wouldn't hit her obedient grandson or daughter-in-law, but Daiki was fair game.
Nobody dared to ask why Grandma never reminded them. Some things don't need to be said out loud. The fact that she always reburied it in the exact same place said enough.
"Are you sure it's here, Mom?" Daiki asked as they reached the front yard, where a small vegetable patch had been planted. He stood holding a hoe, looking doubtful.
"Positive. How many times are you going to ask? Just dig already!" Yui rolled her eyes and moved to take the hoe from him herself.
Daiki dodged and chuckled. "I got it, I got it. You can relax."
After a couple of minutes, Akira's eyes widened. His dad had actually dug up a large, rust-covered iron capsule about half a meter long.
"They really spent money on this thing," Akira muttered.
Shizuka knelt beside it with concern. "I wonder if the stuff inside is still okay…"
She couldn't even remember what they'd put in there. It had been over a decade, after all. Her curiosity battled with a little anxiety.
"Let's just open it," Daiki said, squatting down. "After we see what's inside, we can put Shouko's letter in here too. It'll last longer than that plastic thing."
Unfortunately, despite his best efforts, Daiki couldn't get it open after three or four minutes.
"Uncle, are you even—" Shouko started, but Akira quickly clapped a hand over her mouth.
She looked at him in confusion.
"Shhh. You can't say stuff like that to a man," Akira whispered seriously.
He let go and changed the subject before his dad noticed. "Haha… You got this, Dad! We believe in you!"
Eventually, Daiki brought over a few tools and, after another five minutes of effort, finally managed to unscrew the lid.
Everyone leaned in.
Shouko crouched down, picked up a yellowed photo from inside, and studied it carefully.
"Is this… Auntie and Uncle? They don't look like them at all!"
Akira came over and took the photo from her. Though aged and faded, the figures were still clearly visible.
Shizuka and Daiki joined them and took the photo from their son. For a moment, they stared at their younger selves—two youthful faces smiling up from more than ten years ago.
"Who were those people back then?" Shouko asked softly, her eyes flicking between the photo and the couple beside her.
Akira didn't answer.
Because in that moment, watching his parents share a quiet smile, even he wasn't sure.
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POWER STONE!!!
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