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Good Morning, America – Part 03

“You’re not making any sense, Kujou!”

Astonished, Kazuya asked, “Why? What’s wrong with me? Why, why, why?”

Victorique narrowed her eyes irritably. “Since we arrived yesterday, you’ve been yapping about doing your best with so much enthusiasm. What exactly are you so determined to achieve? And when did you develop such a laughable mindset? Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

“Laughable? Fallen? Now look here. W-We need to find you a home, and for that I need a job. And then Father…”

Before Kazuya could finish, Victorique abruptly pressed her hands against his face.

“Hmm? Victorique?”

“I could happily nap here for the rest of my days. It’s a rather pleasant state of nothingness. Your father would be envious.”

“Y-You can’t do that!” Kazuya snapped.

Victorique blinked in genuine surprise. She let go and stared at his face as if he were an oddity.

Kazuya spread his hands wide. “This is Ruri’s and my brother-in-law’s home. He works to provide for his family.”

“Work? Provide? What are you talking about, Kujou? Is it some peculiar and enthralling arrangement?”

“I doubt it. I’m sure it’s tough.”

Victorique pondered for a moment, then clapped her hands. “I understand. So your brother-in-law is an oddball.”

“No!”

“Then what are you trying to say? You blockhead.”

“Blockhead? Listen. We’re freeloading here right now. You keep losing your cushions. S-So, I will protect your cushions. Wait, no. What was I saying again? Oh, you. I meant to protect you.”

“Why are you blushing over cushions? I don’t get it. You’re so weird today. Ah, I hate this!”

Victorique flopped sideways. Rokushou tugged at her yukata‘s obi, but she didn’t pay it any heed.

“Let me get this straight,” she said with a yawn. “You’re worried about something trivial like cushions. I’m bored, Kujou! You’re so boring, I’m bored. Good night, most unremarkable man in the New World.”

“You should at least be a little worried too. We just arrived in the New World. We have no home, no living expenses, nothing. You’re an incredible person, but Father doesn’t see it that way, calling you mischievous and mean.”

Victorique awkwardly turned her gaze away. Kazuya failed to notice.

“I hate it, but the truth is, we have nothing right now. No sweets, no books, no nice clothes, no interesting cases, not even a comfortable floor to lounge on. None! And it’s all my fault. I’m sorry, Victorique!”

“But I can stay anywhere. In a church, a crumbling tower, on a ship, in Ruri’s house. As long as you’re there, I… don’t need cushions.”

“I’m not talking about cushions! You need new things in the New World!”

Victorique suddenly frowned, turning red. “You’re so loud for someone who doesn’t even listen.”

“Huh? Did you say something? Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

“Eggplant! Watermelon! Spinach!”

“Why are you suddenly upset? First you’re sleepy, then in a foul mood. You’re acting very strange, Victorique.”

Victorique grew more indignant. “You’re the bizarre one,” she said sharply. “Making a big deal out of stupid things like a weirdo. You creepy primate. Must be some new type of illness. Go see a doctor.”

“I’m just being rational.”

“Rational? Rationality is the epitome of degradation.” Victorique rolled around on the floor. “Wilted cabbage! Salty pickles! Chewed-up rice cake!” She half-opened her eyes and gazed into the distance.

“Oh,” Kazuya breathed.

A faint shadow of anxiety flickered on Victorique’s porcelain face, but it was so brief he wondered if he’d imagined it. The magical green light in her eyes wavered faintly.

Sunlight sparkled outside. The trees were lush with foliage, and pink flowers swayed gently in the breeze.

Kazuya’s expression softened. “Well, let’s talk about our future slowly. We have plenty of time now to discover many things together.”

Victorique, rolling around on the floor, looked up at him. Kazuya added, “It took a long time to get here.” Victorique kept rolling around.

The sunlight from the window was dazzling. The trees stirred in the pleasant summer breeze.

Kazuya sat up straight in front of the low table. Trying to change the mood, he picked up a newspaper and spread it open.

“It’s been a while since I read an English newspaper. Oh, there are all sorts of articles at the back. Missing persons… job listings! And even an apartment section. This is great!” He started reading enthusiastically.

Victorique got up, shuffled closer on her knees, and peered over. “Oh.”

Kazuya lifted his gaze and noticed Victorique’s face lit up with interest. “What is it? Did you find a mystery to stave off your boredom?”

“Not quite a mystery, but look at this,” Victorique pointed eagerly with her chubby finger.

It was an announcement for a boxing match: “Featured Boxing Match! Champion vs. Challenger, Tonight’s Big Fight!”

Kazuya nodded. “Boxing, huh. My brothers back home were good at it, and they made me do it too. It came in handy during our adventures in the Old World. But you seem really interested.”

Victorique read the article with excitement. Kazuya, intrigued, began reading with her, their cheeks touching.

“Hmm. According to the article, the champion is the son of a famous former mayor of Brooklyn. The challenger, on the other hand, grew up in a poor family in the South. Their photos are included, and they look very different. The champion is a smart and handsome young man. The challenger has a scary face and a big scar.”

Victorique tried to push Kazuya away with her chubby cheek. “Indeed. They seem unlikely to meet, but it says they actually know each other.”

“Uh-huh.”

“They were assigned to the same unit during the Second World War. And there was a mysterious murder in the unit that remains unsolved. This led to a grudge between the champion and the challenger. The war ended, they returned home, but the unresolved mystery still haunts them.”

“I see… I can relate to that. It was a global chaos, so much happened everywhere, and people returned to their lives carrying those burdens.”

He looked down and rubbed his right leg. Victorique watched him closely.

Kazuya suddenly brightened, trying to change the mood. “Oh, I think I understand how you feel, Victorique.”

He poked her nose. Victorique made a face like she was trying to suppress a sneeze. Kazuya smiled as he inched closer.

“You must be really bored already. We just went through such a huge incident.”

Victorique buried her face in the newspaper, staying silent.

“I see. Newspapers might be useful to you too until we get more books.”

Victorique pulled a blue radio from her sleeve. “This too.”

Kazuya nodded. “Got it.”

Ruri came bustling back into the living room, the cook following behind. Both carried bouquets of pale pink flowers.

“Oh, those flowers are beautiful,” Kazuya remarked.

Ruri turned and smiled. “Aren’t they? I cut them from the yard. They’re summer flowers in the New World.” She arranged them in a large Arita porcelain vase. “These are cranberry flowers. Victorique, do you know them?” she asked with a smile.

Victorique and Kazuya tilted their heads in the same direction, studying the vase.

Countless pink elongated petals spread out, glistening as they danced lightly in the breeze. Silver butterflies flitted around the vase.

“Also known as Immigrant’s Flower.”

Victorique listened with a mix of interest and indifference.

“In the early 17th century, the Pilgrim Fathers boarded the Mayflower from England to America. Look, these dolls represent them.”

Ruri picked up a model of an old ship and white-bearded hermits from the scattered toys. Holding a man in one hand and the ship in the other, she rocked them as if they were traveling across the ocean. Slipping into her old school teacher self, she began her lecture.

“The Puritans from England were serious and deeply religious. Their great adventure began the development of the New World. The story of these quiet heroes is in history textbooks and has always been popular.”

Her upright posture was strikingly similar to that of her younger brother, Kazuya.

“When the Mayflower crossed the terrifying Atlantic and finally reached the New World, it was summer, and pink flowers were blooming everywhere. The sight reminded them of the rich nature in their homeland. They held hope for the New World, and came to love this flower as a symbol of hope and nostalgia.”

Victorique and Kazuya listened attentively like students.

“Oh, so that’s why it’s also called the Immigrant’s Flower,” Kazuya commented.

“Yes. They tilled the hard land, survived the winter, and finally had their first harvest the following autumn. The feast they held to give thanks and enjoy the bounty is said to be the origin of Thanksgiving.”

“Thanksgiving is as important as Christmas in the New World, right?”

“Yes. And cranberry sauce was used in the feast. That’s why it’s traditional to serve cranberry sauce with Thanksgiving turkey.”

The cook chimed in from the side. “The cranberry flower is also featured in a famous country song.”

“That’s right. Umm…” Ruri began to sing. “When the cranberry flowers bloom, I… something, something. I forgot the rest.”

The cook cocked her head. “Was it ‘I want to dance with you’? No, ‘I want to run with you’?”

Kazuya glanced down at Victorique and smiled. “It’s the same color as your yukata, Victorique.”

Victorique compared the flowers and her yukata, murmuring, “Oh?”

The cranberry petals and the hem of the yukata fluttered in the wind. Time passed slowly. A sweet fragrance filled the air. Sunlight shone brightly through the window.

Just then, the old Japanese clock on the wall began to chime loudly. It rang eight times and then stopped.

Kazuya straightened up and rose to his feet. “Oh, it’s already eight o’clock!”