Chapter 80: Questions That Shouldn't Hurt
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
The alarm clock screamed like it wanted revenge.
Max's eyes snapped open instantly.
"…Shit."
He looked at the clock.
Then his soul left his body.
"SHIT, KOTA!"
The blanket flew into the air as Max launched himself off the bed. He immediately stepped on something soft.
"SQUAWK!"
Max looked down.
A rubber chicken.
"…Why is this in my room?!"
No time.
He sprinted through the hallway half-awake, hair completely ruined, shirt twisted backward. He nearly slipped on the wooden floor before slamming himself against Kota's bedroom door.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
"KOTA!"
BANG! BANG!
"KOTA! KOTA! KOTA!"
Inside the room, Kota remained asleep.
Dreaming.
Voices echoed faintly inside his head.
"You don't look alike at all."
"Your dad has dark eyes. Yours are lighter."
"Your hair isn't even similar."
"Are you really his kid?"
Kota stood in the middle of the dream silently.
He remembered hearing those words many times before.
At parks.
Stores.
School events.
Sometimes adults whispered carelessly.
Sometimes children asked directly.
And sometimes…
Kota wondered too.
He looked different from Max.
His eyes.
His face.
Even the way he smiled.
Sometimes he caught himself staring at Max secretly.
Comparing.
Thinking.
Maybe…
The thought hurt strangely.
Maybe he isn't really my dad.
Then—
BANG!
"KOTA!"
BANG! BANG!
"COME ON, WAKE UP, KIDDO!"
Kota's eyes snapped open violently.
"…Ugh."
Another loud knock.
"Dad, why are you breaking the door?!"
"SHOWER NOW!"
"Huh?"
Max opened the door dramatically like a soldier entering war.
"We're gonna miss our flight!"
Silence.
Then—
"…WAIT WHAT?!"
Kota jumped out of bed immediately.
Absolute chaos followed.
---
The bathroom became a battlefield.
Both father and son brushed their teeth aggressively beside each other while half asleep.
Kota looked at the mirror.
Max looked horrifying.
Hair everywhere.
Eyebags.
Foam dripping from his mouth.
"…Dad."
"Mhm?"
"You look like a divorced alpaca."
Max slowly turned.
"…You woke up and chose violence."
Kota grinned while washing his face.
Max suddenly splashed water at him.
"HEY!"
"That's for the alpaca comment."
"You literally look like you eat drywall!"
"GET DRESSED!"
---
Ten minutes later—
Both of them exited their rooms wearing their favorite shirts.
Kota wore a hoodie with a dragon design.
Max wore a simple black jacket and jeans.
"Do I look cool?" Kota asked proudly.
"You look unemployed."
"I'm six."
"Start preparing."
Kota gasped dramatically.
Max loaded the luggage into the backseat while Kota struggled to carry a tiny bag that somehow weighed like bricks.
"What did you put in this thing?"
"Essentials."
Max opened it slightly.
"…Why is there a frying pan inside?"
"In case danger appears."
"What danger requires cookware?!"
"The edible kind."
Max sighed deeply.
"You're impossible."
Finally, both entered the car.
The morning streets remained quiet as Max inserted the key into the ignition.
Then—
"Dad?"
Max paused.
"Hm?"
Kota stared quietly ahead.
"…Is it really true that I'm your son?"
Silence.
The question hit harder than Max expected.
Like something sharp digging directly into his chest.
His fingers froze slightly on the steering wheel.
For a second…
He couldn't breathe.
Because the truth was—
Sometimes he wondered too.
Not because he didn't love Kota.
Not because he wanted to doubt him.
But because…
They really didn't look alike.
Not even slightly.
Different eyes.
Different expressions.
Different features.
And yet—
He remembered the DNA test.
He remembered holding baby Kota for the first time.
He remembered sleepless nights.
Warm tiny hands grabbing his finger.
Laughter filling his empty life.
The loneliness he carried before Kota disappeared because of that child.
No matter what anyone said…
In Max's heart—
Kota was his son.
Only son.
The one person who made life worth continuing.
Max swallowed quietly.
"…Where did you get that question?"
Kota shrugged awkwardly.
"People say we don't look alike."
Max stayed silent.
"They say we're not similar."
"…Is that so?"
"Uh huh."
Max slowly looked at him.
Kota looked strangely nervous.
Small.
Vulnerable.
Like a child afraid of hearing the wrong answer.
Max's chest tightened painfully.
Then suddenly—
Max grabbed him aggressively.
"WAH—"
"TICKLE ATTACK!"
"DAD!"
Max attacked mercilessly.
Kota burst into uncontrollable laughter instantly.
"STOP! STOOOOP!"
"Oh? So you question my fatherhood?"
"NOOO!"
Max grinned slightly.
"If we're not related then why do you have my smile?"
Kota blinked.
"Huh?"
Max ruffled his hair gently afterward.
"No matter what anyone says…"
His voice softened.
"You're my flesh and blood."
Kota stared at him quietly.
"And my only son."
The words settled deeply inside the car.
Warmly.
Safely.
"Understood?"
Kota slowly smiled.
"…Yeah."
Max smiled back faintly.
"Good."
Then immediately—
"Now buckle up before we become latey."
Kota groaned loudly.
"Dad…"
"What?"
"Never say latey again."
"I'll say it twice now."
"NO—"
The car finally started moving.
---
As they drove through the quiet streets, Max glanced toward Kota occasionally.
Then again.
Then again.
Something bothered him.
Something strange.
Sometimes when Kota smiled…
He looked familiar.
Painfully familiar.
But Max could never pinpoint why.
Or who.
Every time he tried remembering—
It slipped away.
Like smoke.
Then suddenly—
A flash.
Not a memory from Max.
Something else.
---
"WHAT?! After me leaving that loser, you're gonna leave me too?!"
A woman's furious voice echoed sharply.
Another laugh followed.
"Hey, maybe it's karma."
"Fuck you!"
The woman shoved the man hard.
"After you had your way with me you were moaning louder than a girl last night!"
The man burst into laughter.
"Pfft. Me? Like a girl? Please."
He smirked arrogantly.
"I smacked those cheeks and you liked it."
"AS IF!"
The woman crossed her arms angrily.
"You made me do all the work!"
"Come on," the man yawned lazily. "I'm bored with you already."
The woman's eyes widened.
"…Asshole!"
---
Aiko suddenly opened her eyes sharply.
The airplane cabin lights flickered softly around her.
Passengers slept quietly nearby.
Aiko rubbed her forehead tiredly.
"…That asshole."
She looked out the airplane window silently.
Clouds stretched endlessly outside.
"…I shouldn't have let him do that to me."
Her voice sounded bitter.
Regretful.
Years ago…
She was ambitious.
Too ambitious.
She wanted money.
Status.
Influence.
Luxury.
And love became secondary.
No.
Maybe even lower than that.
She remembered him.
The man she actually loved.
Kind.
Honest.
Poor.
Too poor.
And she left him.
Not because she didn't love him.
That was the painful part.
She did.
But love couldn't give her the life she wanted back then.
Then his rich, influential friend entered the picture.
And everything became messy after that.
Aiko laughed bitterly to herself.
"…I'm such a jerk."
Her eyes slowly lowered toward her reflection on the airplane window.
"And now I'm…"
She stopped.
Unable to finish the sentence.
Because for the first time in years—
She wasn't sure what she had become anymore.
The airplane continued flying quietly toward Japan.
Toward old memories.
Toward buried truths.
Toward people whose lives were about to collide once again.