Chapter 2 - My Fun Life

The following day, on a bright Wednesday, my Uncle had promised to accompany me off the estate as soon as I returned home from school. I was eagerly looking forward to it. The school day seemed to last an eternity, but finally, the ringing of the final bell signaled the end of classes. Without delay, I headed home, excited to spend some quality time with my uncle, as it had been quite some time since we had gone out together.

Growing up, our house was a far cry from the glitzy mansion I dreamed of for rich folks. Whenever we ran out of supplies or needed a snack, Uncle would make a quick phone call, and voila! Everything appeared on our doorstep like magic. Despite all this, I never pried into his finances, but I couldn't help but wonder if he was loaded. I mean, our estate was the biggest in the city if not the country! Our land stretches several kilometers, even including a whole forest and mountain peak. Plus, he never said no to any of my outrageous requests, like the time I begged for a pet pony. But then again, there were also things that didn't quite fit the bill, like his plain, no-frills wardrobe and not having a ton of buddies. Who knows? Maybe Uncle's wealth is a mystery for the ages.

"Maybe I'll learn more about him today," I thought with excitement as I headed home from school.

Upon arriving home, I found that my uncle had already dressed for our outing. He was wearing a plain brown shirt and short black jeans, which seemed to be his attempt at dressing youthfully. However, it appeared to be a bit of a mismatch. I recall reminding him about our scheduled dinner reservation for the evening.

"You got home early today," Uncle teased, pinching my left ear. "I didn't sneak out of class early, I promise," I assured him.

"We'll find out later. Now, go change your clothes," he said.

After changing out of my school uniform, my uncle and I departed from our estate, walking alongside each other. While strolling down the street, my uncle glanced at me and asked, "What's our first destination?"

"I have an idea! We could head to the arcade and test your sharpshooting skills," I exclaimed playfully. Upon arriving at the arcade, we were greeted with a lively atmosphere akin to a bustling circus. The arcade was teeming with patrons of all ages, and we had to exercise caution to avoid getting separated in the crowd. The anticipation of gaming was palpable in the air.

Our intended location was the sharpshooting section, featuring a vivid array of prizes mounted approximately 20 feet away. An assortment of targets was available, each boasting an enticing bullseye. To participate, one was required to obtain a toy shooter and aim at one of the prizes on the wall. Hitting the bullseye guaranteed a win while missing necessitated payment for the attempt. The prizes ranged from teddy bears and consoles to microphones, mystery boxes, binoculars, and more.

Uncle turned to me with a playful smile. "So, which gift would you like, Maki?" he asked as he grabbed one of the toy guns.

My eyes scanned the rainbow of dazzling prizes, and after a brief pause, I knew exactly what I wanted. "I choose the enigmatic mystery box!" I boldly proclaimed.

"Very well, I shall acquire one for you," Uncle said with confidence, even as we witnessed individuals ahead of us in the queue repeatedly failing to hit the bullseye.

After waiting for approximately ten minutes and witnessing no one hitting a bullseye on any prize, I couldn't help but express my surprise, "It's weird that no one has won anything yet."

"Be mindful of the teddy bear prize," my uncle indicated, "and inform me immediately if you observe anything out of the ordinary."

I nodded in agreement and intently observed as another participant stepped up to take their shot. This person targeted their aim meticulously, leaning forward as if trying to capture the console box. They pulled the trigger, and a small ball was released, missing the bullseye as predicted. However, this time, I observed something peculiar.

"Whoa!" I blurted, caught off guard. I quickly scanned the room to see if anyone else had caught the sudden move, but it looked like I was the only one. Turning to my uncle, I blurted out, "Did you catch that?"

He chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Hehe, don't worry, the game might be rigged, but I'll still get you that mystery box."

I was fascinated by my uncle's strategy to circumvent the rigged game. The game presented a formidable challenge, with the odds stacked against us, seemingly rendering hitting the bullseye impossible.

Careful observation revealed a subtle trick at play. The walls on which the prizes were displayed were slightly in motion, hindering participants' efforts to hit the bullseye. The clever use of symmetrical paintings on the wall, depicting birds soaring in a cloudy sky, made it difficult to detect any movement. The abundance of birds and symmetrical clouds provided perfect camouflage for even minor shifts in the wall.

"How is the wall moving, though?" I asked, puzzled by this deception.

"Likely, there's an individual behind the wall, manipulating it as directed. The rewards aren't affixed directly to the wall, but instead, they are attached to a cardboard piece of the same width and nearly identical length. If you examine it closely, you'll observe the length is not exactly perfect," Uncle explained, revealing the subtle nuances.

It became apparent that the cardboard partition did not extend all the way to the ceiling, leaving a gap between it and the actual wall. This realization confirmed that someone was located behind the board with the prizes. Despite uncovering the deception, my uncle remained steadfast in his pursuit of winning the enigmatic box.

Now, it was his turn. He confidently held the toy gun in his right hand and closed his left eye to enhance his accuracy. With a resounding "POW!" he fired, and miraculously, one of the mystery boxes tumbled to the floor, perfectly hitting the bullseye. "WOW! That's amazing!" I cheered. Being the first to hit the bullseye, my uncle earned a round of applause from the surrounding crowd.

"Maki, it's your turn," my uncle suddenly declared.

"What? I wasn't planning to participate," I protested. I had only intended to witness my uncle's skills in action.

"That simply won't do, Maki. We're at an arcade, and you even waited in line with me. Take a shot," Uncle insisted.

"But—"

"Take the shot," he interrupted, his voice firm.

"Fine, I'll do it," I reluctantly agreed, taking a deep breath. Like my uncle, I gripped the toy gun with my right hand and took aim. However, I knew that my turn wouldn't be as straightforward as he had been. For some reason, the wall had remained still during his turn, granting him a fair shot. He was simply fortunate to have been chosen by the cheaters to win that round. Regardless of whether they cheated or not, my uncle would have emerged victorious.

I pretended to pull the trigger halfway, fooling the onlookers for a moment. In that split second, I saw the wall move, and that's when I pulled the trigger for real. "BULLSEYE!" I shouted as my shot hit another mystery box.

Uncle Reo applauded, seemingly proud of my achievement. His smile was so wide that it nearly surprised me. "That's my girl," he praised. "You still remember what I taught you," he added with genuine delight.

"How could I forget? 'Never target someone's current position, always go for their next position or move,'" I recited those childhood lessons.

After leaving the sharpshooter's station, we wasted no time opening our mystery packages, brimming with anticipation. Amidst the unwrapping frenzy, my uncle scored a new smartphone, maybe not quite on par with his current one, but still pretty nifty. "Well hey, it's a great backup option," I chimed in with a grin.

"I don't mind; I'll keep it," Uncle said enthusiastically, gazing at his new phone with childlike wonder. It was endearing to witness his excitement.

"As for our next destination, there's so much to do," Uncle Reo said, his anticipation palpable.

"For someone who initially didn't want to go out, look at you now," I teased.

"Well, I'm with you," he replied, his cheeks turning slightly red.

"All right, let's play some video games. You love those," I suggested.

"Absolutely! Let's do it," Uncle agreed.

For the next hour, we lost track of time, engrossed in various games—racing, fighting, and puzzle games. Our last stop was a dart game in which we competed to score the most points.

It came as no surprise that my uncle dominated the competition, but I managed to hold my own somehow. Whenever he scored a bullseye, I felt compelled to do the same. As we neared the end of the game, we were tied with 50 points each. The next couple of throws will determine the winner.

"It's impressive that I've held on this long, considering your talent," I remarked.

"Well, to be honest, I'm a bit rusty at this sort of thing. Nevertheless, you're impressive for keeping up with me," Uncle complimented.

I took my final dart and, as planned, hit the bullseye. That left me with 25 points, our game was different from the general version where each person gets three throws. Uncle and I were only taking one throw per turn. It was now Uncle's turn, and he also scored a bullseye. In the end, I cam out as the victor. "Now that that's over, I've made reservations at a hotel outside the city. I've heard it's a real delight," I reminded him.

"Wait, outside the city? This is the first I've heard of this," Uncle Reo exclaimed.

"We're going all the way, Uncle. Let's get going," I said, pulling his arm.

We traveled 20 kilometers from our hometown, Almon City, to the "Angel Whereabouts Feast (A.W.F)" restaurant, with our uncle Reo as the driver. After a half-hour drive, we arrived at the restaurant, where a table had already been reserved for us with menus readily available.

"What are you going to eat?" I asked Uncle, considering the vast array of options on the menu. Uncle was taking too long with a reply so I went ahead and chose for him.

"Alright, I know you adore seafood, so that's what we're ordering," I told him.

"With chorizo?" my uncle asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Like I could ever forget that!" I chuckled, sharing a knowing look.

As we settled into our table at the cozy restaurant, the waitress approached, her eyes fixated on my uncle for an unusually long moment. It was as if she had stumbled upon an old acquaintance. "Do I know you?" Uncle Reo finally asked, breaking the awkward silence.

The waitress abruptly emerged from her daydream, momentarily startled, before swiftly regaining her composure. She offered an apologetic bow and inquired, "My apologies, it's a bad habit of mine. Can I assist you in placing your order?"

"We'll take your number six, please, along with grape juice for me," I said.

Uncle Reo chimed in, "And a glass of wine for me, thank you."

The waitress bowed again, signaling that she had taken our order, but her gaze lingered on Uncle Reo once more. It was becoming increasingly perplexing. "Is something the matter?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry," she stammered and hurried off to the kitchen. Uncle and I exchanged puzzled glances.

"Does she know you from somewhere?" I asked curiously.

Uncle Reo sighed, his eyes scanning the restaurant's surroundings. "Who knows? I hope not."

I couldn't help but tease him, "Well, that woman was rather striking. Must be nice to have someone take an interest in you, regardless of your age."

Uncle Reo chuckled and retorted, "That's not funny, Maki. I'm old enough to be her father, you know."

I couldn't resist teasing him further, "Age is just a number, Uncle. The next time she comes over, you should definitely ask for her name."

"Maki," he said my name with a hint of both amusement and resignation.

I wanted my uncle to find happiness, and I suspected that he had been avoiding potential relationships for my sake. He knew about my tumultuous experiences with different mother figures from my past family, and he may have believed that protecting me meant avoiding entanglements with women. But I needed him to understand that I didn't mind anymore.

"Uncle, I'm a grown woman now. You don't have to worry about me as much as you used to," I reminded him.

"Nonsense," he replied, half-jokingly. "You're still a hatchling barely out of the nest."

"Are you implying that you haven't pursued relationships because of me?" I asked.

"Sometimes, I do feel that way," he admitted with a soft chuckle.

"I knew it! Please, Uncle, do what makes you happy. Don't let me hold you back. Your happiness is my happiness," I earnestly told him.

Uncle Reo fell into a contemplative silence, his demeanor turning serious. His words, when they came, carried an air of wisdom and gravity that sent shivers down my spine. "Maki, remember this well. My happiness is not your happiness. Live for yourself, not for others, because in the end, we all die alone."

I felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry, I was out of line," I apologized.

An awkward silence settled between us until the waitress returned with our dinner. She placed our dishes on the table and asked, "Would you like anything else?"

I replied, "No, I'm good," while Uncle Reo seemed lost in thought, still pondering the waitress's earlier fixation on him.

"Do we know each other?" he finally asked her.

The question caught her off guard, and she stuttered as she tried to come up with a response. "I—I guess...you're a war hero, right? I've heard stories about you."

Uncle Reo promptly dismissed her theory, saying, "Oh, I'm sorry, you have the wrong person."

She seemed doubtful. "Are you sure?" she pressed.

"I am not who you think I am. In fact, pretend as if I never visited here," he firmly told her.

With a nod, she left our table, and I couldn't help but smile. "A war hero, huh? That's pretty cool."

Uncle Reo, however, didn't share my sentiment. "What's cool about it? That title is nothing but rubbish. A true hero is someone who prevents wars, not one who indulges in them."

"You're pretty deep right now," I laughed at his sudden philosophical perspective.

With a contented sigh, we finally reached the end of our meal, and like magic, all the lingering tension between us vanished into thin air. Forks and knives clinked merrily, and the gentle jazz tunes set a comforting mood. The snug ambiance of the Italian eatery offered a sense of calmness, I was so glad we decided to visit this place if it were even once in our lives.