Doraemon: Starting by Taking Care of Tamako Nobi

The evening fell quiet after the funeral.

Back at home, Nobita had gone straight to his room and fallen asleep, worn out from all the crying. Upstairs, Doraemon sat quietly beside him, gently stroking his hair, offering silent comfort.

Downstairs in the master bedroom, Tamako sat alone at the table, her posture rigid as she poured herself a small glass of sake. Her eyes were puffy, her cheeks damp. The silence around her was thick with sorrow.

A soft sob escaped her lips.

Tears fell, trailing down her face and neck, soaking into her black mourning dress. Her glasses had been set aside, revealing a face both beautiful and broken. Even grief couldn't hide her quiet dignity.

To be beautiful in mourning there had been something timeless in that saying. Tonight, Tamako embodied it in full.

"Tamako-auntie…" Hiro Nobita's voice broke the silence.

He had come downstairs, drawn by the heavy stillness in the air. When he saw her trembling back in the dim light, his heart ached.

She turned to him slowly, startled. And before he could say anything else, she stood and wrapped her arms around him.

"Hiro… why did this happen? Why did your uncle suddenly lose control like that? Why us?" she whispered, her words broken by sobs.

Hiro froze for a moment. Then, gently, he brought his arms up to hold her.

"I don't know either, Aunt Tamako," he said softly. "But whatever happened… we're still here. And we have to take care of each other now. That's what Uncle would have wanted."

Tamako clutched at him like someone afraid to drown.

He felt the tension in her body, the way sorrow threatened to swallow her whole. Guilt, grief, loneliness all buried under years of strained affection and empty words with a husband who had long since become a shadow of his former self.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to fall apart in front of you," she murmured, pulling back slightly and forcing a smile as she wiped her tears. "I should be stronger. I shouldn't rely on a child like you…"

"You're not alone," Hiro said simply. "And I'm not a child anymore."

She looked at him, startled, and for a moment, something unreadable flickered in her eyes pain, maybe, or longing for something lost long ago. Then she chuckled, weary but sincere.

"You've grown up so quickly," she said. "Your uncle would be proud."

She placed a hand gently on his shoulder, then stepped away. The warmth lingered.

"I should go rest," she said, turning toward the hallway. "We all need rest."

"Good night, Aunt Tamako."

"Good night, Hiro."

He watched her disappear down the corridor, her black silhouette framed by the hallway light. Then he turned, heading back up to his room.

But even after he laid down, Hiro couldn't sleep.

He kept thinking about Tamako's broken voice, her trembling hands, and the photo of his uncle that sat on the family altar smiling, unaware of the fate that would claim him so suddenly.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He had a strong suspicion now one he dared not speak aloud. If his guess was right, the cause of Uncle Nobisuke's madness had been the cookie. The one containing the Fool's Bomb. And the person who had taken it with him that morning…

That meant Nobita, unintentionally, had a hand in what happened. Hiro clenched his fists.

No. No one could ever know. He would carry that truth alone.

He turned his face to the ceiling and whispered, "Uncle, rest in peace. I promise I'll take care of them now. I'll protect this family. You have my word."

And with that silent vow, he closed his eyes and drifted into uneasy sleep.