Uncle Hikigaya is Forever Young [15]

Miura Kōzō and Hikigaya Ryōhei had always gotten along well. From elementary school all the way through middle school, they'd been classmates and best friends.

Later, Ryōhei was admitted to Tokyo Gakugei University, while Miura Kōzō took the school's employment recommendation and joined a medium-sized foreign trade company. From that point onward, they didn’t see each other as often, yet they still maintained a close friendship, regularly checking in with one another.

Every person—unless a total bastard—usually had one or two truly trustworthy friends worth holding onto for a lifetime.

For Ryōhei, Miura Kōzō was exactly that kind of friend.

“You still haven’t gotten rid of this piano, huh… But yeah, it'd be a pity to throw it away; it must've been expensive.” Miura Kōzō casually kicked off his shoes and sat cross-legged on the tatami mats, half-urging and half-mocking Ryōhei.

Although Kōzō guessed his old friend was probably still recovering from the blow dealt by Tōma Kazusa leaving him, logically, he shouldn’t be bringing up the piano at all. But he couldn’t help feeling frustrated at his friend’s weakness, and wanted to prod him a little.

Good advice was rarely pleasant to the ear, after all!

Just thinking of how his good buddy had cried himself half to death over a woman made him furious!

“I’m planning to sell it at a secondhand market.” Ryōhei responded calmly while changing clothes, as though the piano had nothing whatsoever to do with him.

“Selling it, good... Wait—you're really going to sell it?”

It took Miura Kōzō two seconds to register before shouting aloud in shock.
His face was filled with disbelief.

When Tōma Kazusa had first divorced him a while back, this idiot had been utterly devastated.

He'd even sobbed uncontrollably at the table while drinking with him.

How often would a grown man allow anyone else to see his tears?

An adult man’s tears were as rare as diamonds, yet this idiot had cried his heart out in front of another man… Tsk, tsk! Thankfully Yumiko’s mother was gentle, understanding, kind-hearted, and virtuous!

Ah… Kōzō suddenly remembered his wife's illness, and his previously high spirits, brought on by visiting his friend, immediately sank again.

“Sell! Of course, I'm selling it. I can't even play, and neither Hachiman nor Komachi have any use for it.”

Ryōhei had already finished changing—actually, he'd just thrown on a random jacket. He deliberately maintained a composed, neutral expression in front of Miura Kōzō. Even if Kōzō noticed his personality and behavior had changed, it could still be explained away as lingering damage from Tōma Kazusa's abandonment.

“So you're really selling it. Well, suit yourself.” Miura Kōzō studied Ryōhei’s stiff expression carefully for a moment and sighed deeply. For a family, having a good woman around really made all the difference.

Ryōhei—aside from his two children, Hachiman and Komachi—had seen his career and family life practically collapse overnight, sending him straight back to square one. Who knew how many years it'd take for him to recover?

“Alright, let's get going. I'm taking you out for a meal today. Consider it a celebration for finally getting rid of that awful woman Tōma Kazusa!”

Miura Kōzō briskly stood up and gave Ryōhei a hearty slap on the shoulder.

Seeing his friend seemingly moving forward, Kōzō felt genuinely happy. His brain instantly began scrolling through all the older, single women he knew who were still looking for marriage partners.

He figured Ryōhei was a graduate from a top-tier national university, slightly better-looking than himself, had no bad habits—a textbook definition of a good man…

Even if currently down-and-out and dragging two kids behind him, he still counted as a man with potential.

Miura Kōzō raised an eyebrow at Ryōhei and teased: “Say, Ryōhei, recently have you thought about—ah, never mind, we'll talk about that another time. Let’s go! Time to eat!”

...

An authentic bowl of Japanese ramen could be broken down into noodles, broth, toppings, flavorings, and seasonings. Although ramen culture had been imported from the neighboring East Asian Empire, Japan had developed its own unique style, markedly different.

By flavor, ramen could be categorized into four schools: tonkotsu (pork bone broth), shoyu (soy sauce-based), miso, and shio (salt-based).

Currently, Miura Kōzō and Hikigaya Ryōhei were enjoying ramen at a shoyu ramen shop.

Ryōhei had insisted on choosing this inexpensive ramen place rather than the proper restaurant Kōzō had suggested. Kōzō didn't insist further, but made a point of paying for both their ramen, saying that he absolutely had to treat Ryōhei at least this much.

Given their friendship, Miura Kōzō saw nothing wrong with Ryōhei wanting to save him money.

The two drank beer, casually chatting about mundane topics.

Miura Kōzō had already noticed subtle changes in Ryōhei compared to before: fewer words, calmer eyes.

The biggest change was that whenever Ryōhei mentioned Tōma Kazusa—however briefly—it was like talking about a stranger he'd never met before.

This finally put Kōzō's heart at ease, and he didn’t pay much attention to other minor changes.

The topics between middle-aged men revolved around careers, family, and children.

Ryōhei’s career was in ruins, and Kōzō tactfully avoided that painful subject.

Regarding family, after cursing Tōma Kazusa a few times by himself, Kōzō quickly lost interest.

Eventually, they settled on discussing their children instead.

When Kōzō learned that Ryōhei’s eldest son, Hikigaya Hachiman, had been admitted to the prestigious Sobu High—a school with a rather impressive deviation value—he became genuinely interested in that kid, whom he vaguely remembered as having strange-looking eyes.

“Sobu High, huh? Your Hachiman’s pretty good then. Speaking of which, my daughter—Yumiko, you've met her a couple of times—she also got into Sobu High. Honestly, I hadn't been very optimistic at first.”

Although Kōzō said this, his face betrayed him, practically glowing with pride.

“Is that right? Your daughter… Yumiko-chan, which class?” Ryōhei casually asked, taking a sip of broth.

“Class 1-F,” Kōzō answered immediately.

“Gulp!” Ryōhei swallowed hard and struggled out, “Hachiman's in the same class, huh? What a coincidence...”

Because yesterday Hachiman had mentioned school would be starting soon, Ryōhei had carefully studied Sobu High’s details and Hachiman’s admission papers the previous night, naturally remembering the class number clearly.

“Must be fate!” Miura Kōzō was very pleased that his daughter and his good friend's son had gotten into the same school and even the same class. He and Ryōhei had become lifelong friends precisely because they’d miraculously ended up in the same class again and again.

If their children could inherit this friendship, Kōzō would feel truly gratified just sitting here thinking about it.

“Uh, yeah, definitely fated,” Ryōhei said helplessly, echoing Kōzō’s enthusiasm.

“Oh, here’s a photo of my daughter,” Kōzō mentioned, immediately pulling out his phone to show Ryōhei, the very picture of a proud father with a lovely daughter.

“This girl insisted on dyeing her hair recently because I'd promised to let her if she got into Sobu High. Honestly, I don’t really like girls dyeing their hair like that…”

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This is a fan translation of 比企谷大叔永远年轻 by Stargazer All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!