Chapter 4: The Outfitters

The alarm chimed at five-thirty, but Kenzo had already been awake for twenty minutes, mentally running through the day’s itinerary. He heard his mother moving in the kitchen—the soft shuffle of slippers on tile, the quiet clink of the coffee pot. Good. She was up and oriented. That was half the battle.

He dressed quickly and found Midori at the stove, staring at the package of bacon in her hands.

“Morning, Mom.” He kissed her cheek and gently took the package from her. “I’ll get this started. Why don’t you crack the eggs?”

She nodded, relieved, and reached for the carton. Kenzo had learned years ago that his mother functioned best with clear, simple tasks. The bacon went into the pan, and he turned to check on his sisters.

Kioko stood in the hallway, already dressed in jeans and a sweater, but her hand rested on the doorframe as if she couldn’t quite commit to entering the kitchen.

“Come sit down, Kioki,” Kenzo said, his voice warm. “Coffee or juice?”

“I ... coffee, I think?” She looked at him for confirmation.

“Coffee sounds perfect. Go ahead and sit.”

Hikari emerged next, her hair still damp from the shower. She made it to the table but immediately froze when Midori asked, “Do you want your eggs scrambled or fried?”

“I...” Hikari’s eyes widened slightly, that familiar panic creeping in.

“Scrambled for everyone,” Kenzo interjected smoothly. “Easier to keep warm that way. Sound good?”

Three grateful nods answered him.

Mioki was the last to appear, hovering at the kitchen entrance in her pajamas.

“Mioki, you need to get dressed,” Kenzo reminded her gently. “We’re leaving by seven.”

“I don’t ... which shirt should I...”

“The blue one you laid out last night, remember? We picked it together.”

“Oh. Right.” She didn’t move.

Kenzo flipped the bacon. “Tell you what—go put on the blue shirt and your jeans, then come back for breakfast. Five minutes, okay?”

The specific timeframe seemed to help. Mioki nodded and retreated to her room.

By six-thirty, they were all seated around the table. Midori had managed the eggs beautifully once Kenzo had set up the bowl and whisk for her. The bacon was crisp, the toast golden. It was a small victory, but Kenzo had learned to appreciate these moments.

“So,” he said, spreading jam on his toast, “here’s the plan. We’ll hit Mountain Ridge Outfitters first—they open at eight. That’s where we’ll get your boots fitted. Then we’ll check Adventure Supply for the other gear. Packs, water bottles, that kind of thing.”

Kioko pushed her eggs around her plate. “What if ... what if the boots don’t fit right?”

“Then we try different ones until they do,” Kenzo said. “That’s why we’re going today instead of the morning of the hike. No pressure.”

“What should I look for in boots?” Hikari asked quietly.

“The salesperson will help you. But I’ll be right there too.”

Midori had gone still, her fork halfway to her mouth. Kenzo recognized that look—the overwhelm starting to creep in.

“Mom, after breakfast, all you need to do is get your purse and get in the car. I’ve got everything else handled.”

She exhaled slowly and resumed eating.

The SUV was loaded and ready by seven-fifteen. Kenzo had triple-checked the list the night before: wallet, water bottles, the cooler for later, his phone fully charged. He’d learned that preparation was everything—not just for the activity itself, but to minimize the small decisions that could paralyze his family throughout the day.

Mountain Ridge Outfitters was a warehouse-style store that smelled of canvas and rubber and possibility. Kenzo had called ahead yesterday to explain the situation to the manager, a weathered woman named Patricia who’d assured him they’d take good care of his family.

She met them at the door with a warm smile. “You must be the Tanaka family. Come on in.”

Mioki immediately moved closer to Kenzo’s side. Hikari and Kioko exchanged uncertain glances.

“Let’s start with getting everyone’s feet measured,” Patricia said. “Then we’ll bring out some options. How does that sound?”

Kenzo nodded encouragingly at his sisters. “That sounds great.”

The measuring process went smoothly because Patricia had a system: she’d measure one foot, announce the size, then measure the other to confirm. No choices required. When she brought out the first round of boots, she narrowed it down herself.

“For your foot shape, Kioko, I’d recommend starting with these two models. Both are excellent for day hikes, good ankle support, already broken in. Let’s see how they feel.”

Kioko looked to Kenzo. He smiled. “Try the brown ones first.”

Having the decision made for her, Kioko relaxed enough to actually focus on how the boots felt. “They’re ... comfortable. I think.”

“Walk around a bit,” Patricia suggested. “Use that incline ramp over there. Your feet will tell you what works.”

Hikari was next, and Kenzo employed the same strategy—Patricia presented options, he suggested which to try first, and gradually his sister’s confidence built enough that she could articulate what felt right.

Mioki proved more challenging. Every boot felt wrong, or maybe right, or she couldn’t tell. Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes.

Kenzo knelt beside her chair. “Mio-chan, remember what we talked about? Your body knows what it needs. You don’t have to explain it to me. Just walk in these, then nod yes or shake your head no. That’s all.”

She managed three head shakes before finally nodding at a pair of gray hiking boots with pink laces.

“Perfect,” Kenzo said. “Patricia, we’ll take those.”

Midori had been sitting quietly on a bench, watching. When Patricia approached with a sizing device, she looked terrified.