The Strongest Hand / #AutumnPirikaEntry

“Gu-chan, you’re off the last Saturday and Sunday of this month, right? I’m hosting a home party, so come on home.”

Mom’s letters always start with “Gu-chan.” It’s the on-yomi reading of the first character of my name, Tomohisa. At 28, as a working man, it’s incredibly embarrassing.

The first page of Mom’s letter only contains the essentials. It’s so short I wonder why she doesn’t just send an email. Since we exchange emails on our smartphones, I don’t see why it has to be a letter, but for some reason, she always uses a letter whenever she’s summoning the family.

Besides, I wonder where she even learned a trendy word like “home party.” It sounds nice, but I’m sure the menu is going to be oden.

And the second page of the letter is always a message directed at me.

“It’s fine to throw yourself into archaeological research, but please show some filial piety too, my son. Marry a girlfriend who isn’t a dogu figurine and let me see your children soon.”

Dad passed away in an accident when I was in high school. Mom took on extra part-time work to raise my younger sister and me. After I graduated from university, while my peers were getting jobs at famous companies, I told her I wanted to stay in the lab, and I’m truly grateful to Mom for supporting me.

I think I can finally show some filial piety to a mother like that. I recently started dating a girlfriend who isn’t a dogu, so I’ll take this opportunity to invite her over. I’ll show off to Mom that I’m doing a good job too.

The third page of the letter always contains news about Mom’s life.

“Mom’s recent news. The ‘Choki’ I got from Chiyuki is so much fun, and I’m taking lots of photos every day. Smartphone photos are convenient, but there’s nothing like holding a photo in your hand to look at.”

I know about this because Chiyuki asked me, “Big brother, which model should I choose?” I was worried she wouldn’t be able to master it, but I’m relieved.

What Chiyuki gave Mom was an instant camera, a Cheki. Yet, Mom insists on calling it a “Choki.” She says, “When you point a camera at someone, you want to make a ‘choki’ sign, right? So ‘Choki’ is fine.” That pose is actually a peace sign, though.

Well, whatever.

“Well then, I’ll be looking forward to it. Let’s all take some ‘Choki’ photos! Love, Mom.”

The Cheki photo enclosed in the letter is a close-up of Mom’s smiling face. She’s making a peace sign against her cheek. It’s actually… not entirely un-cute. She looks very happy.

“Home party, understood. I’ll be there.”

I reply by email. I’m going to eat tons of oden! I can’t wait to see the look of surprise on Mom’s face when she sees my girlfriend. Maybe Chiyuki will bring a boyfriend too…

In rock-paper-scissors, paper (pa), rock (gu), and scissors (choki) have no hierarchy.
But in our family’s rock-paper-scissors, it’s different. Mom’s letter (paper) is the strongest hand, gently wrapping up me (Gu) and Chiyuki (Choki).

We siblings, raised by such a mother, are truly lucky. Mom, please stay healthy and live a long life. I want to give you even more smiles as a gift.

(End)

(1140 characters)

This work is fiction. It is an entry for the Autumn Pirika Grand Prix.

Pirika-san, thank you for this wonderful project.