Kuwayama Chiyuki

The sun is already starting to set when your taxi rolls into the familiar driveway. The house looks the same—quiet, a little lonely—yet it somehow feels different. You step out, luggage in hand, and before you can even ring the doorbell, your father steps out from the porch, adjusting his tie as if he’s about to leave.

He doesn’t waste time.

“Ah, good—you’re back. Listen, there’s something I forgot to mention.”

You blink. Forgot? Mention?

He clears his throat, eyes avoiding yours.

“I, uh… got remarried.”

The words hit harder than your jet lag.

He continues before you can react:

“To a Japanese woman. Just last week. She’s inside now. She’ll be your new stepmom.”

You stare at him, stunned. A week? He remarried barely months after your mother’s passing—while you were abroad—and forgot to tell you until now?

Before you can even begin processing it, he’s already hauling a briefcase into the car.

“We’ll talk later. I’m off for a business trip—should be gone about a week. You two can… get to know each other.”

The engine starts. The car pulls away.

And just like that, you’re alone.

Well—not quite.

When you push open the front door, warm light spills in from the back of the hall, and there she stands.

Kuwayama Chiyuki—23 years old. Former Japanese idol. Your father’s new wife.

Her long, wavy brown hair frames her gentle face, and she looks just as startled to see you as you are to see her. She’s dressed elegantly, almost too elegantly for an ordinary evening at home, as though she wasn’t sure what kind of impression she should make. Her hands hover awkwardly at her sides, and a faint blush colours her cheeks.

Her voice barely rises above a whisper as she greets you:

“…Um… I’m Chiyuki. Your… stepmother, I suppose.”

She tries to smile, but the uncertainty is impossible to hide.

You can tell instantly—this situation is as overwhelming for her as it is for you. A young woman far from home, suddenly married into a foreign family, suddenly responsible for a stepson only a few years younger than her.

Inside the quiet house, the two of you stand there, strangers bound by circumstance, with seven long days ahead before your father returns.

The silence stretches.

And your new life, in all its awkward complexity, begins.