The Yokohama Port stretched across the street, where the taxi driver pulled over his car. But the passenger did not budge. She was still sitting in the back seat, staring back at him through the rearview mirror.

"We have arrived," he reminded her. "Aren't you getting out, Nishii-san?"

The woman shook her head confidently. "If it's okay wit you, I would like to know what happened next in your story."

He turned off the meter and the car engine, then lowered the window slightly, so the fresh sea air could flow in. "What happened next was, I was given a second chance."

...

He and Keina endured a seven-year wait before welcoming another child into their lives. Over that time, Keina faced the heartbreak of four miscarriages, each one a painful reminder of her weak womb. Despite trying various medications, injections, even herbal remedies, the pregnancies always ended prematurely, as if the unborn children were unwilling to stay. After the fourth loss, despair crept in. Their obstetrician, Kusama-sensei, offered sobering advice, hinting that they shouldn't set their hopes too high. Even if Keina managed to conceive again, he warned, there might be complications for the baby, like with Hikari.

Only in the fifth pregnancy, a miracle happened—the baby held on. At the four-month mark, an ultrasound revealed a baby boy. Overjoyed, he made the decision to give up hockey entirely to prioritize Keina's well-being. Though his coaches and teammates wouldn't let him go, they understood his choice. He sold the house and car and used the money to start a sporting goods business downtown. Though the shop was small, he managed to carve out a modest living space in the back. Money was tight, but being able to support Keina was worth it.

Nine months and ten days later, their son was born safely into the world. The feeling of fatherhood flooded back as he held the tiny, precious bundle in his arms. Life, which had once seemed stagnant to him, suddenly felt vibrant and full of promise. Eager to ensure their son's health, he arranged for the boy to undergo thorough examinations with multiple specialists in Hachinohe. The results were reassuring—the boy was perfect, without a single issue. They chose the name Takeru 武, symbolizing a warrior's spirit, fitting for a child who had overcome such odds to enter the world.

As Takeru grew, he proved to be a lively, spirited child, with a hint of quietness about him. Despite Keina's reservations, he introduced Takeru to hockey as soon as the boy could walk. As the only son, he harbored dreams of Takeru following in his footsteps, becoming a professional ice hockey player. And with Takeru's resilience and determination, he believed that dream was entirely within reach.

...

One day, when Takeru was eight, he returned home in tears. Sensing something amiss, Keina rushed over to see the boy, concern etched on her face. "What's wrong, Takeru-chan? Why are you crying?"

Takeru sniffled, his eyes red and swollen. "Yamamoto and the others won't let me join them for snow sliding."

"Yamamoto Kiyoshi's son? The banker?" He joined in. "Isn't the boy in fourth grade?"

Takeru nodded. "Yes, and he said I'm too small."

"Too small? Nonsense! Don't they know how skilled you are on the ice?"

"I told them, but they still said no."

"Perhaps they're just worried about Takeru," Keina suggested gently.

"Silly woman." His frustration boiled over. He stared at his son. "You go back and tell them right now that you're Hirose Tora's son, the ice hockey champion!"

"I already told them," Takeru sobbed, his face buried in his mother's stomach. "I said I've been skating since I was five."

"It's okay," Keina comforted the boy. "You don't have to skate today, Takeru-chan."

He yanked Takeru's hand away from Keina's arms. "Boys don't cry and run to their mothers just because they're teased by other kids. Go back there and stand up for yourself!"

"Yamamoto and the others pushed me," Takeru explained. "They told me to leave."

"And you just let them? That's cowardly! Show them who's really afraid!"

"Tora," Keina interjected sternly. "That's enough. Maybe those kids were just envious of Takeru's skills, that's why they sent him away."

"You're not teaching him anything by coddling him like that." He pushed Takeru towards the door. "Don't come back until they've backed down! Understand?"

The boy nodded and left the shop.

An hour later, Takeru returned, accompanied by Sazae-san, a woman who worked in the Misawa High School cafeteria.

"Hirose-san, I found Takeru-chan near the park. His temple was swollen, and his lip was torn. I tried asking him what happened, but he didn't want to say," Sazae-san explained.

"What happened to you?" he asked his son.

"I fell," Takeru replied, quickly glancing at Keina who immediately approached him.

"Fell? On the ice?" Keina inquired.

Takeru nodded. The boy didn't convice him. His son had been skating since five years old and likely more skilled than most of his peers.

Keina thanked Sazae-san and led her to the front terrace of the shop. Once Sazae-san had left, he turned to his son. "You didn't fall, Takeru."

"I did."

"Don't lie to me. Tell me the truth."

"Not now, Tora," Keina intervened, embracing Takeru and guiding the boy to the living room. "Let me clean the wound first."

"You're teaching him to be a coward, and now you want him to lie too?" He gently pulled Keina's hand away from Takeru. "What will he become if you keep shielding him?"

"He's hurt."

"It's just some scratches! On the rink, I'd still play even with a dislocated shoulder or cracked bones! How can he grow strong if you pamper him over such tiny wounds?"

Keina began to protest, but he raised his hand to silence her. Then he turned Takeru to face him. "Takeru, I'll ask you one more time. What really happened?"

"I fell."

"You're lying. Did Yamamoto and his friends punch you?"

Takeru stared at the floor, silent.

"They beat you up, didn't they?"

Takeru nodded slowely.

He darted behind the counter to grab something, then opened it in front of his son.

"Tora," Keina reached out, touching his hand lightly. "What's going on with you?"

"You're head and shoulders above all those kids!" He scooped up the boy, whose tears were now flowing freely. "You should be the one standing up to them! Since you didn't, I guess it's up to me to show you how it's done."

He stuffed Takeru into a plastic bag, pulling it tight around his neck. The boy's wails grew louder, his movements wild, but I just tuned him out.

"TORA!" Keina's voice was sharp with panic. "Are you out of your mind? That's a trash bag! You can't just toss your kid out like garbage!"

"I'm teaching our son a lesson," he shot back, dragging the boy to the porch. "Crying? In this family? No way. Men don't cry. Get a grip, and maybe you can come back in."

Keina was all over him, trying to pull him back, but he slammed the door in her face. "It's freezing out here, Tora! Your boy's hurt! You trying to finish him off?"

"He's not gonna die, Keina. Trust me, he'll come out of this tougher than before."

...

When Takeru turned ten, he reached out to Yamada, the former goaltender of his old hockey team. Yamada, now coaching a youth team, was thrilled at the prospect of training Hirose Junior, the son of Hirose Tora, the legendary center known for his impeccable goal-scoring prowess. Though Takeru still had two years before he was eligible to play hockey—due to concerns over the physical nature of the sport potentially stunting a child's growth and other absurd regulations—he couldn't wait any longer.

"You'll begin hockey practice tomorrow," he announced to Takeru as the boy returned home from school. "You'll be coached Yamada-san, my former teammate. You'll train with the middle school kids. Don't embarrass me. You hear me?"

"I don't like hockey."

"What do you mean?" he demanded.

"I mean, I don't like hockey."

"Don't judge something before you've tried it. Hockey runs in your veins. Once you're out on the rink, gliding with the puck, you'll see how thrilling it can be."

"I've joined the library club at school."

"Why would you join a club like that?"

"I enjoy reading," Takeru replied shortly. "And writing. I have a passion for books."

"The library is for girls, not for boys like you. You'll ruin your eyes reading those tiny letters on books. Quit that silly club immediately. Tomorrow, at three in the afternoon, you'll head to the rink at 3-Chome and start your hockey practice. You can be an great hockey player, just like me."

Takeru remained silent.

"For now, Yamada's gonna loan you some gear, but I've got a special set coming in next week, just for you. Got it?"

Takeru still didn't respond.

He half-expected Takeru to bail the next day. However, around half past three, the boy bid farewell to Keina and left the shop.

"Did Takeru bring the gloves I set out?" he asked his wife. "They're brand new. I left them by the dining table."

Keina disappeared into the back and returned, waving a pair of gloves.

He hurried out of the shop, scanning the street for Takeru. Spotting the boy across the sidewalk, he called out, but Takeru kept walking with his head down, already at a considerable distance. As he reached the intersection, the traffic light turned red.

After three minutes, the light changed to green. He crossed quickly, looking around. Where was Takeru? He could have sworn he saw the boy turn at the end of this road. But that led to the park, not 3-Chome.

He dashed towards the park and spotted Takeru running around with four other children, playing daruma. Takeru was on guard, the lone boy amidst a group of girls.

...

"Mother, why does Father hate me so much?" Takeru's voice came from behind the thin bedroom door where Keina and Takeru were folding clothes.

"Your father doesn't hate you," Keina whispered, unaware that her husband was eavesdropping from outside.

"Father hit me with a tennis racket just because I played daruma with the girls in the park. And when I was in second grade, he put me in a trash bag and kicked me outside."

"Your father doesn't hate you, Takeru-chan. He just wants you to be strong, like him."

"Am I weak?" Takeru asked.

"No," Keina's voice sounded choked up. "You're not weak at all. You're gentle, like me. There's nothing wrong with being kind-hearted."

"Is it because I'm gentle like you that Father hates me?"

This time, it was Keina's turn to be silent. He pressed his ear against the door. For a few seconds, there was no sound. Then came a loud sob.

His wife cried.

...

That night, after Takeru fell asleep, Keina confronted him. Throughout their marriage, she never did such thing. Keina, a traditional Japanese wife who typically obeyed her husband's silent anger, was somewhat shaken.

Dragging him into the narrow laundry room to ensure Takeru wouldn't overhear, Keina spoke in a hushed but urgent tone. "Why do you have to be so cruel to your own child, Tora?"

"I'm educating him, Keina. He's my son."

"The boy thinks you hate him!" Tears streamed down Keina's face. "The look on his face when he said that... It broke my heart!"

"Takeru is our only child. It's my duty as a father to discipline him. If you can be gentle with him, then I must be firm," he argued.

"You're not disciplining him. You're torturing him! His buttocks are bruised because you hit him with that tennis racket just for playing daruma. He won't be able to sit at school tomorrow!"

"He was the only boy in the park."

"So what? Since when are only girls allowed to play daruma?"

"I don't want to argue about this. What do you think will become of him if no one teaches him discipline?"

"He's my son too! My only child!" Keina screamed hysterically. "I can't stand by and watch you hurt him like this, Tora! You have to stop now!"

"Are you threatening me?"

"I'm not threatening you! I'm begging you to stop hurting our child!"

"So you're just going to keep coddling him? Takeru needs to learn resilience and independence. What I did to him was nothing compared to what my father did to me. You know I grew up with nine brothers, right? Our life was tough. Just to get a small bowl of rice, I had to fight my siblings first. If I hadn't become a hockey player, I might still be starving today! I didn't treat Takeru like how my father treated me. I gave him a good life. I just disciplined him in my own way. What's so wrong with that?"

"You're not your father, Tora," Keina's voice softened. "You could be a different kind of father. A loving one."

"Just as a daughter learns from her mother, a son learns from his father. You had your chance with Hikari, Keina. And you failed. Now it's my turn."

"Failed?" Keina was stunned. "You blame me for Hikari's death?"

He left the cramped room, feeling unable to reason with his wife any longer. He waved and went out, leaving his wife sobbing in silence.

...

The next day, Keina didn't say a word to him. He decided to respect her silence.

As Keina saw Takeru off to school, she couldn't help but press a kiss to the boy's head and whispered, "Try not to quit hockey, Takeru-chan. That's the only way to keep Father from getting angry with you again. Promise me, alright?"

Takeru glanced at his mother and nodded.