The train hummed softly as it cut through the countryside, carrying the group away from the city's neon pulse and into the quiet green that rolled beyond the glass. The light flickered against their faces a rhythm of shadow and sun as the sound of cicadas echoed faintly through the open windows.
Kaoru sat by the window, chin resting on his hand, eyes lost somewhere between the clouds and memory. Aya sat across from him, editing tablet in her lap, stylus tapping rhythmically. Kaede was glued to her phone, humming an idol song under her breath, while Takeshi and Emi shared snacks like two kids on a field trip.
"So, this is the place you grew up in?" Takeshi asked, biting into a rice cracker.
"You never even showed us a photo."
Kaoru smiled faintly. "You'll see soon enough. My family's… traditional."
"Traditional?" Emi tilted her head. "Like, tatami mats and kimonos traditional, or like 'strict family head who drinks tea and speaks in proverbs traditional?'"
Kaede snorted. "Both."
Aya hid a small smile behind her hand. She still remembered the last time they visited how his father, a towering man in an old silk kimono, greeted Kaoru with tears in his eyes as if he'd returned from war.
The train slowed. The voice over the speakers called their stop "Kagami Estate."
The group stepped off into the crisp air. The countryside smelled different. Cleaner. A mix of morning dew, pine, and the faint smoke of distant cooking fires. A long stone path wound its way up a gentle hill, leading toward what looked like a private forest.
At the top stood the Kagami Estate.
It wasn't just a house. It was a piece of history. wide and layered with dark wooden frames, slanted roofs, and wind chimes that sang faintly in the breeze. Rows of lanterns lined the path, glowing softly even in daylight, giving the place a quiet, sacred aura.
Emi's mouth fell open. "This looks like a setting from a Ghibli movie…"
Takeshi whistled. "Bro, you didn't tell us your house was a literal dojo palace."
Kaede smirked. "Told you so."
Kaoru just smiled faintly, walking ahead. Aya followed a step behind, her eyes soft with familiarity.
Before they even reached the gate, it slid open with a clack.
Standing there was a tall man in his late forties, hair tied neatly back, wearing a gray kimono patterned with subtle white waves. His presence was calm but commanding the kind that filled the space without saying a word.
"Kaoru!!!"
Kaoru barely had time to react before his father's arms wrapped around him. A deep, firm hug that caught everyone off guard.
"Dad!—"
"You never call!" his father's voice cracked slightly, half-laughing, half-crying. "Do you know how long your mother's been waiting for this day?!"
Kaoru awkwardly patted his father's back. "You saw me a few months ago…"
"A few months is too long!"
Aya smiled quietly at the sight, remembering how similar it had been the first time she visited. Behind them, Kaoru's mother stepped out gentle, graceful, her long hair streaked with silver, her own kimono patterned in blossoms.
"Welcome home." she said softly. Her voice carried warmth the kind that could calm a storm.
"Mom." Kaoru greeted, bowing slightly before she reached forward to hold his hands, eyes brimming with joy.
Kaede stepped up next, hugging her politely. "Hi Mom."
Her mother's eyes softened instantly. "Kaede, you've grown even prettier."
"Ehehe~ I know~" Kaede grinned proudly, earning a flick to the forehead.
"Don't get cocky.." her mother teased gently.
Behind them, Emi and Takeshi stood awkwardly at the entrance, unsure whether to bow, wave, or vanish. Aya gave them a small nod to encourage them.
Kaoru turned back. "Dad, Mom these are my friends. Emi, Takeshi, and you remember Aya Takahashi."
Aya bowed respectfully. "It's been a while, Mr. and Mrs. Kagami."
Kaoru's father chuckled. "Ah yes, the editor who makes our son sleep properly."
Aya smiled politely. "I try my best."
Takeshi raised a hand nervously. "Uh, nice to meet you, sir. Big fan of… your, uh, house."
Emi followed with a bow so deep she nearly tripped. "Thank you for having us."
Kaoru's mother giggled softly. "Come in, all of you. Dinner's almost ready."
They stepped inside, slipping off their shoes at the genkan. The wooden floor was polished to a mirror's sheen, and the faint scent of tatami and incense filled the air. The walls were lined with old calligraphy scrolls, framed ink paintings, and photos of Kaoru and Kaede as children Kaoru in his school uniform, Kaede grinning with missing teeth.
Emi stared at a photo of young Kaoru holding a science trophy. "Wait.. you were a science fair champion?"
Kaoru rubbed the back of his neck. "It's… an old story."
Aya smiled knowingly.
They gathered in the main hall, where the low table had already been set with food grilled fish, miso soup, vegetables, and a steaming pot of rice. Kaoru's mother motioned for them to sit.
Takeshi whispered."This looks like an anime feast, what a shame naoki couldn't come.."
Kaede elbowed him. "Don't say that out loud!"
But Kaoru's father laughed anyway. "You're not wrong, young man. Eat as much as you like. Takahashi told us last time how hard you all work."
Aya blinked, slightly embarrassed. "I… might have mentioned your cooking."
Kaoru's mother smiled. "Then I'll make extra for her."
Dinner began with the kind of noise that only real families make overlapping voices, clinking chopsticks, and the occasional "pass the soy sauce." Emi tried her best to follow etiquette, Takeshi ate like he hadn't seen food in weeks, and Kaede kept teasing her brother for every tiny thing.
Aya, calm as ever, quietly sipped her tea, occasionally glancing at Kaoru's father a man whose presence carried the same quiet depth as Kaoru's when he worked.
"So, Kaoru." his father began. "how's your manga progressing?"
Kaoru paused, chopsticks hovering over his plate. "...Steady. I'm working on one-shots lately. Trying different stories."
His father nodded thoughtfully. "I see. You were always the type to take small steps before a big leap."
Kaede smirked. "He's just lazy."
Kaoru flicked her forehead again. "Ow!"
Emi laughed quietly, while Takeshi mumbled through a mouthful of rice. "Honestly, one-shots are harder sometimes. You gotta make people care fast."
Kaoru's mother smiled. "It's wonderful that you have such supportive friends."
Aya spoke softly. "They've all grown a lot together."
Kaoru glanced at her briefly, catching the faint smile she gave him.
After dinner, they walked through the garden lanterns glowing faintly against the twilight. Fireflies blinked over the koi pond, and the air carried that peaceful hush only the countryside could hold.
Kaoru's father walked beside him. "You know… your grandfather built this place with his own hands."
Kaoru nodded. "..you told me that before. I still remember."
His father looked at him quietly. "You've changed, Kaoru. But… in a good way."
Kaoru smiled faintly. "I guess so."
Aya watched them from a few steps away, hands clasped behind her back. Kaede and Emi were taking photos by the pond, laughing as Takeshi tried to pose dramatically with a broom he found, pretending it was a katana.
Kaoru's mother joined Aya's side. "He's calmer now, isn't he?"
Aya nodded. "He's found balance, I think. Between what he loves and what he remembers."
Kaoru's mother smiled gently. "You sound like someone who understands him well."
Aya's eyes softened. "I try to."
Kaoru's father called out from the porch. "Kaoru! Bring your friends to the dojo tomorrow morning. There's something I want to show them."
Kaoru blinked. "The old dojo? It's still standing?"
"Of course!" his father said proudly. "A Kagami doesn't throw away history."
Emi's eyes sparkled. "Wait, there's a dojo?"
Takeshi grinned. "This trip just got ten times better."
Kaede sighed. "You two are gonna get yourselves killed."
Aya chuckled quietly as the others broke into chatter again. Kaoru stood still for a moment, looking at the soft lantern light flickering on the garden stones.
It had been years since this place felt alive with laughter. Years since he truly let people see this side of him.
He took a slow breath, the scent of cedar and smoke grounding him.
For a fleeting second, the faint reflection of the koi pond showed not just him but the version of himself who once dreamed of science, sketching stars and molecules in notebooks. The boy who used to chase two passions at once.
Aya caught him staring and spoke gently, "You okay?"
Kaoru nodded. "Yeah. It's… nice to be back."
The wind carried the sound of chimes again, their soft ringing blending with distant laughter from inside.
Aya smiled. "Then let's make this visit count."
He looked at her, and for the first time that day, truly smiled.
"Yeah… let's do it."
The wooden floorboards creaked softly as Kaoru slid the dojo door closed. The air still hummed faintly with the sound of bamboo swords clashing, echoes of laughter fading as everyone else began to leave. Emi and Takeshi were wiping sweat from their brows, joking lightly in the yard; Kaede was speaking quietly with their mother near the porch, the sunlight slipping through the open panels and painting soft patterns across the tatami.
Aya stood nearby, holding her water bottle, but her eyes weren't on the others they were on Kaoru.
He had gone quiet. His expression, usually so lively and full of teasing bravado, had turned unreadable. His hands were loosely hanging by his sides, eyes focused on the far wall where a faded family portrait hung. a young boy with messy hair sitting beside an lab coated old man with proud, kind eyes.
Aya hesitated before speaking. "Kaoru… can I ask something?"
He didn't answer right away, only hummed faintly as if caught between two thoughts. Aya stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Who really is your grandfather?"
The moment those words left her lips, Kaoru's entire demeanor shifted. The man who always cracked dumb manga jokes and pretended to summon dragons with a pen suddenly went still. His gaze lowered, and for a brief moment, his shoulders trembled before he steadied them.
His father, standing by the doorway, heard the question. A sigh escaped his lips slow, controlled, but heavy. "Aya Takahashi, right?"
Aya straightened politely and nodded. "Yes, sir."
Kaoru's father smiled faintly, though his eyes didn't match it. "You have good intuition. Kaoru doesn't talk much about him."
He stepped forward, adjusting the collar of his dark gray kimono. The light from outside drew a soft glow across his weathered face, and his voice carried the tone of a man who had told this story only once before to himself.
"Kaoru's grandfather, my father… was a scientist." he began. "The greatest scientist I've ever known. He worked with NASA, their best leading physicist. He dedicated his life to studying the unknown space, time, things we barely understand even now."
Aya's eyes widened slightly. She glanced at Kaoru, who said nothing.
"But." his father continued, "he left it all behind one day. No warning. No explanation. He just packed up his life in America and came back to Japan. When I asked him why back when I was a kid, he said something strange."
He smiled sadly, staring at the floor as if he could still hear the man's voice.
"He said… 'I finally found my lady science.'"
Aya blinked. "His.. lady science?"
Kaoru's father chuckled faintly. "His grandmother, my mom. He meant her. He called her that because she challenged his feelings of 'love.' the same way the stars did."
There was a pause soft, warm, bittersweet. Kaoru looked away, pretending to be busy with his wooden sword, but Aya could see his hands tremble slightly.
His father looked toward him then, and his tone softened. "He always wanted Kaoru to follow in his footsteps. A scientist's legacy, you know. He believed curiosity runs in blood. But Kaoru… he didn't want that life."
Aya turned toward Kaoru gently. "You didn't?"
Kaoru slowly shook his head, his hands clung onto the wooden sword tightly, as if swinging would erase the pain. "I liked drawing." he said quietly. "I liked stories. Manga, sketching, the sound of a pencil scratching paper. He never got angry about it, though. Just said… 'As long as you're building something, it doesn't matter if it's a rocket or a dream.'"
Aya's chest tightened at the way he said it that soft nostalgia woven with regret.
Kaoru's father smiled faintly. "Your grandfather respected that, even if he didn't understand it. But when Kaoru turned sixteen…" He stopped there for a moment. His hands found their way into his sleeves, hiding the faint tremor. "…he passed away. Peacefully, in his sleep."
Aya lowered her eyes. The sound of wind through the garden trees filled the silence.
Kaoru's father exhaled slowly, continuing. "During the funeral, everyone cried. Except Kaoru. He just stood there, staring at the casket. I thought maybe he was in shock. But later, I found him outside in the rain, clutching a sketchbook. He said…"
He glanced at Kaoru, his voice quiet now. "He said, 'I should've kept my promise.'"
Aya's heart squeezed.
Kaoru stood still, his eyes unfocused, voice barely a whisper. "He asked me to build something for him one day. A telescope that could see past the stars. I told him I would. But I never did. I spent my time drawing manga instead, calling myself a 'visionary artist.' What a joke…"
Aya stepped closer, shaking her head softly. "That's not a joke, Kaoru. He probably would've loved that you kept imagining new worlds."
But Kaoru didn't respond. His father reached out, placing a gentle hand on Aya's shoulder. "Let him rest for a while." he said quietly. "Some stories need silence more than comfort."
Aya nodded, understanding.
As the evening deepened, Kaoru walked alone through the Kagami estate halls. The paper lanterns along the corridor flickered gently, casting ripples of gold light on the walls. He stopped before a door he hadn't opened in years. the one at the end of the hall, where his name was still carved clumsily into the frame.
He turned the handle, the air inside thick with dust and memories. The small room hadn't changed. shelves filled with worn sketchbooks, an old desk cluttered with yellowed paper, and above it, a photograph of him as a child sitting on his grandfather's shoulders, both laughing beneath a rocket model hanging from the ceiling.
Kaoru walked in slowly, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
He sat on the bed, eyes heavy, and whispered to the air, "Why do I even draw…?"
No one answered. Only the faint hum of cicadas and the rustling leaves outside.
He laid down, staring at the ceiling where faint light from the paper window drifted across his face. "Was it ever worth it?" he murmured. "I could've made him proud. I could've done something… real."
'i.. I failed you, I'm sorry..'
Then, quietly, a voice.
"Then why do you keep drawing, Kaoru?"
His eyes opened slightly startled, confused. The voice was deep, familiar, patient. The same tone that once explained the stars to him.
He sat up, looking around the dim room, but there was no one. Only his grandfather's old photograph on the desk, smiling that same warm, knowing smile.
Kaoru's lips trembled. "Grandpa…?"
But his body felt heavy. His vision blurred. He blinked slowly, the fatigue of the day washing over him until his head sank back onto the pillow.
Outside, the wind carried the faint scent of rain and pine.
In his dream, he stood once more beneath the night sky, the stars clearer than ever before. His grandfather stood beside him, hands clasped behind his back, eyes bright with that same mischievous curiosity.
"Drawing or science." the old man said softly, "they both reach for the same thing, understanding. One with ink, one with equations. But both come from the same place."
"Where?" Kaoru asked.
His grandfather smiled. "A wish to see what others can't."
Kaoru's eyes glimmered as he turned to him, the pain in his chest softening into something warmer. "Then maybe… I didn't really break my promise."
His grandfather chuckled. "You never did, kaoru. You just chose a different telescope, you've never disappointed your gramps."
The dream faded gently, leaving only the sound of wind and the scent of paper and ink.
When morning came, Aya knocked on his door softly. "Kaoru? Breakfast's ready."
There was no answer at first only silence. Then, a quiet voice from within:
"…I think I know why I draw now.."
'Thank you for everything, grandpa.'
And somewhere in that stillness, his grandfather's photograph caught the morning light, as though smiling at the grandson who finally understood.
Aya Takahashi stood rooted in place, her back against the wall while the sound of chatter filled the Kagami estate. It was warm unbearably so. Not from the summer air or the tea steaming gently on the table, but from the kind of warmth that came from belonging.
Laughter spilled across the room in waves. Takeshi was teasing Kaede about her miserable gaming skills again, holding up his phone with mock horror.
"Kaede, you died three times in the tutorial!"
Emi burst out laughing, nearly spilling her drink. "Maybe she was roleplaying as the NPC!"
Kaede groaned, waving her hands defensively. "You guys are evil! At least I don't rage quit like Takeshi!"
Kaoru sat among them, bright and carefree, grinning wide enough that even his father had to chuckle at the sight. His mother, as usual, was fluttering between the kitchen and the table with plates of dango, insisting that everyone "eat until you're glowing." His father, calm and strong, placed a hand on Kaoru's shoulder with that same quiet pride that made Aya's throat tighten.
They were all laughing. All together.
Aya forced a small smile, one she'd practiced countless times at company events, the kind that didn't quite reach her eyes. She looked around and tried to join in really tried but every cheerful sound around her only made the silence inside her ring louder.
She murmured under her breath before she could stop herself,
"I think… I feel jealousy..?"
The words were like shards of glass, fragile and sharp, and once they escaped, she couldn't take them back.
It wasn't the money. It wasn't the house or the neatly kept tatami or the glint of wealth that peeked through the walls. It was the love. That simple, effortless way they all fit together, like a picture that had never been broken.
Aya's eyes drifted toward Kaoru again. He was talking animatedly to Kaede and Takeshi, probably about some new story draft or ridiculous manga idea. His hands moved as he spoke expressive, alive. When he laughed, his family laughed too, as if his joy was contagious.
That was what hurt the most. He looked like he belonged in this world of warmth. And she… didn't.
The voices around her faded, swallowed by memory.
Rain.
The sound of it hitting the car windows like a thousand tiny fists.
Her father's off-key singing.
Her mother's laughter.
Her own small giggles from the backseat, hugging her little stuffed rabbit.
"You're our everything, Aya." her mother said, turning just enough to ruffle her hair. The scent of her perfume faint lavender filled the car. "We'll take you to that park again next week, okay?"
Then headlights.
Too bright.
Too close.
A truck's horn screamed through the night.
Her father's sharp intake of breath.
Her mother's hand reaching back not for the seatbelt, but for her.
Then the sound of metal folding, like the world itself collapsing.
They didn't even have time to scream. Her father's arms wrapped around her, her mother pressed against them both. It was warmth and terror, all at once.
"We love you." her father whispered.
Then silence.
Aya woke up in a hospital room filled with the smell of antiseptic and quiet sobbing from someone in the next bed. Her arm was in a cast, her body bruised and aching, but she was alive.
But her parents weren't.
The doctors called it a miracle. The police said they'd died instantly, "without pain."The words blurred together, meaningless.
The social workers came next polite, rehearsed smiles.
"She's very quiet.." they said. "Poor thing."
She went from place to place. An orphanage first cold and echoing, where every night she heard whispers about the car crash girl. Then foster homes, five of them.
The first one was kind but distant, a family who smiled for photos but kept her at arm's length.
The second stricter, where she learned to lower her gaze and stay silent when scolded.
The third the one she still had nightmares about.
The fourth quieter, gentler, but temporary.
The fifth just long enough for her to age out.
By the time she turned eighteen, Aya had learned that the world didn't give second chances. Love was a privilege, not a guarantee.
So she built walls instead. Tall ones. Unscalable.
And inside those walls, she built her career cold, precise, unflinching. She became EditorTakahashi, the woman with sharp eyes and sharper words, who never missed a deadline, who made even seasoned mangaka tremble when she raised a brow.
And then she met Kaoru Kagami.
The boy who was the opposite of everything she was. clumsy, overly dramatic, too emotional for his own good. But also sincere. Kind. Honest in ways that made her chest ache. He didn't flinch when she was strict. He didn't complain when she tore his drafts apart. He listened. He smiled.
He thanked her.
At first, she thought he was just naïve. But as months turned into a couple years, she realized that working with Kaoru made her feel something she hadn't felt since that day in the car.
She had felt.. alive.
He frustrated her. He inspired her. He made her flustered. He reminded her that even broken things could create beauty.
And that terrified her.
Because she couldn't lose him. Not him. Not another person who made her heart remember how to beat. So she hid behind professionalism, behind rules and revisions. She'd rather he think she was cold than risk being hurt again.
But tonight, in this house full of warmth and light, her walls were crumbling.
"Aya?"
Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest.
Kaoru's voice was suddenly beside her, soft and concerned. She turned and saw him holding two cups of tea, steam rising gently between them.
"You've been standing there for a while.." he said. "You okay?"
"I'm fine." Her voice came out sharper than intended.
He blinked, then smiled faintly. "You sure? You look like you're mentally editing everyone in this room."
She almost laughed at that.. almost. "I was just… thinking."
Kaoru offered her a cup. "Then think with tea. It's scientifically proven to calm editors who overwork themselves."
Despite herself, she took it. Their fingers brushed, and her heart skipped. She looked down quickly, mumbling, "You should worry about your deadlines, not my tea consumption."
He chuckled and leaned on the wall beside her, close enough that she could feel his warmth. "Deadlines can wait. You look… far away."
Aya stared into her cup, watching the reflection of the lights shimmer on the surface. "I just…" She hesitated, unsure if the words would make her sound weak."You have a nice family."
He blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity. "Oh. Uh… thanks."
"They're kind." she continued quietly. "You're… lucky."
Kaoru's expression softened. "Yeah. I really am."
Aya nodded, forcing a small smile. "Don't take that for granted."
There was a pause gentle, but heavy. Then Kaoru turned toward her, voice low. "You sound like someone who knows what that's like."
Her chest tightened. She didn't answer. Couldn't. The words clawed at her throat, desperate to escape. 'I lost them. I lost everyone.' but all she managed was a quiet, "Maybe."
Kaoru didn't press. He just stood beside her, silent. That was what she liked about him; he never demanded explanations.
For a while, they both simply watched the others. Kaede was showing Emi a goofy drawing Kaoru had made years ago, and Takeshi was trying to convince their father to let him try the family dojo's sword training. The air was filled with laughter, warmth, the kind of love that Aya used to dream about before she learned better.
Kaoru tilted his head slightly, his gaze distant now. "You know," he said softly. "when my grandfather died, I felt like I lost the only person who really understood me. I didn't cry at the funeral. I just… felt empty."
Aya glanced at him. "Your father told me a bit."
"Yeah." Kaoru said with a faint smile. "He wanted me to be a scientist. But all I wanted was to draw. I thought I disappointed him."
She frowned slightly. "He respected you, didn't he?"
He nodded. "He did. But I didn't realize that until years later."
Aya's chest ached. Their stories weren't the same, but the pain echoed loss, regret, the feeling of wanting to live up to someone who was no longer there.
Kaoru's voice grew quieter. "You ever feel like… no matter how much you create, there's still something missing?"
Her breath caught. "Every day."
Their eyes met then. a single moment of fragile honesty that neither could hide from.
And for the first time, Aya saw past Kaoru's easy smiles and boyish humor. He was just as broken as she was.
"Kaoru.." she said softly. "Do you ever think about what drives you?"
He turned toward her, his expression gentle. "Yeah. I think it's the same thing that drives you."
She raised a brow. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
He smiled faintly. "We both draw just in different ways. You fix stories so they don't fall apart. I make them so people feel less alone."
Aya froze. Her hand tightened around her teacup. Less alone.
For a long time, she'd told herself that editing was just a job, a way to survive, to keep busy enough to drown out the silence of her apartment. But Kaoru's words dug into her heart like sunlight finding a crack in the wall.
Maybe… maybe she'd been trying to make sure no one else felt that kind of loneliness either.
Kaoru grinned, breaking the heaviness. "And besides, if I ever stop drawing, you'll probably kill me."
Aya finally let out a small laugh, covering her mouth. "You make it sound like I'm a monster."
He looked at her with mock seriousness. "You're scarier than my deadlines."
"Then meet them." she said, crossing her arms.
He saluted playfully. "Yes, ma'am."
They both laughed quietly, the tension easing.
But even as the moment softened, Aya's heart still whispered the truth she couldn't say aloud: 'I envy you, Kaoru. Not for your family, not for your talent but for the way you can still believe in love after losing so much.'
She turned away before he could see the emotion flicker in her eyes. The room's laughter swelled again, wrapping around her like a song she didn't know the words to.
And for the first time in a very long while, Aya wondered if maybe just maybe she didn't want to stand on the outside anymore.
That night, as the house grew quiet and everyone retired to their rooms, Aya stood on the veranda, watching the lanterns sway gently in the wind. The moonlight brushed over her hair, pale and still.
Kaoru appeared beside her, hands in his pockets. "Can't sleep either?"
She shook her head. "It's… peaceful here."
He nodded. "Yeah. It's weird, huh? Feels like time stops in this house."
Aya smiled faintly. "Maybe that's not a bad thing."
He leaned on the railing, glancing at her sideways. "You know, Aya… you're not as cold as you pretend to be."
She turned to him, startled. "Excuse me?"
He chuckled softly. "I mean it. You act all strict and professional, but… I see it. The way you worry. The way you care."
She froze. "You're imagining things.."
"Maybe." he said with a shrug. "But if I am… it's a nice imagination."
Aya looked away, cheeks faintly pink under the moonlight. "You really are impossible."
Kaoru smiled. "And yet, you keep coming back."
She didn't answer. But this time, she didn't walk away either.
The night wind carried the scent of rain again. the same scent that had followed her since childhood. But for once, it didn't sting.
It felt like a promise.
The sun was setting by the time they stood at the gate of the Kagami estate. The evening breeze carried the faint scent of tea and garden soil, the last traces of warmth clinging to the air. Kaoru's father gave one final hearty laugh before pulling his son into another hug, patting his back with that firm affection only a parent could give.
"Don't skip meals, Kaoru." his mother reminded, straightening his collar like she used to when he was a boy. "And Takahashi." she paused, smiling softly, "thank you for looking after him."
Aya bowed politely. "He's the one keeping me busy, ma'am."
Kaede waved dramatically. "We'll visit again soon! Maybe for New Year's!"
"You better." their father said, folding his arms proudly. "Next time, I'll show you how to actually handle a sword, Takeshi!"
Takeshi groaned, half-laughing. "Please don't, sir, I like my limbs attached."
Everyone chuckled as they finally stepped out, the front gate closing behind them with a soft click a gentle sound, yet it carried a strange weight, like the ending of a movie's last scene.
The train hummed quietly as it cut through the dusk-painted countryside. Emi had fallen asleep, her head resting against Kaede's shoulder, while Takeshi scrolled through his phone in silence. Kaoru sat by the window, watching the reflections blur past mountains, lights, and the faint shimmer of stars starting to bloom in the distance.
Aya sat across from him, her gaze also lost on the scenery. Neither spoke for a long time; there wasn't much that needed to be said. The quiet wasn't awkward. just… calm.
Kaoru finally exhaled softly. "Feels weird leaving again."
Aya nodded. "It always does."
He turned to her, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You seemed… comfortable this time."
Her eyes flickered to him, then back to the window. "Maybe I was."
Kaoru leaned back, watching the faint reflection of her face against the glass. calm, thoughtful, almost peaceful. For the first time in a long while, she didn't look like she was carrying the world on her shoulders.
The rhythmic clatter of the train filled the silence. Outside, the city lights grew brighter, closer, like they were slowly returning to reality.
Kaoru's eyes grew heavy, and he let his head rest against the window, whispering under his breath, "Home, huh…"
Aya glanced at him one last time before looking away, her lips curving in the faintest of smiles.
"Yeah," she murmured, almost too softly to hear. "Home."
The train sped on through the night, and the scene faded into the gentle rhythm of steel and stars.
.....
Welcome home, me. You look tired today.
The apartment was silent, save for the faint hum of the city seeping through the thin walls a distant pulse of life that felt worlds away. The air hung heavy, as if it had soaked up every unshed tear Aya Takahashi had swallowed over the years. A half-empty beer bottle sat on the cracked tiles beside her, its condensation pooling in a small ring. Next to it, an untouched pizza box lay closed, the faint scent of pepperoni lingering like an afterthought.
Aya sat on the floor by the small window, her knees drawn loosely to her chest, one hand resting lightly on the neck of the bottle. The dim streetlamp outside cast a pale golden glow across her face, softening the sharp edges she wore in public. Her hair fell messily over her shoulders, and she tilted her head back against the wall, a soft, tired smile flickering on her lips.
"It's so hard to love someone like this…" Her voice was quiet not the cold, commanding tone she wielded as Kaoru's editor, but small, fragile, a whisper meant for no one. She lifted the beer bottle, taking a slow sip, the bitter chill biting her tongue as she swallowed. Her eyes, heavy with something unspoken, traced the shadows on the ceiling.
"I… always love someone," she murmured, lowering the bottle to rest on her knee, her fingers tightening briefly around the glass. "But I could never express it. Always quietly… unconditionally." Her voice wavered, and she brushed her free hand over the sleeve of her worn sweater, as if smoothing away a memory that clung too tightly. A shaky breath escaped her, stirring the stillness.
She had spent her life giving in ways no one saw. a glance that lingered too long on Kaoru's tired smile after a late-night deadline, a critique sharpened not from disdain but from fear of losing him, a heart that poured itself into silence because everyone she'd loved had vanished. Her parents, shielding her in that rain-soaked car crash, their arms her last memory of warmth. The foster homes, each one teaching her to expect departure. The orphanage, where her small voice had learned to stay quiet.
Aya shifted, setting the beer down with a soft clink, her fingers brushing the edge of the pizza box but not opening it. She wasn't hungry not for food, at least. She pulled her knees closer, her shoulders curling inward as if to shield herself from the ache blooming in her chest.
"So why…" Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper, "couldn't I receive that kind of treatment… just once?" She pressed her lips together, her eyes glistening as she stared at the untouched pizza, its presence a mocking reminder of the meals she'd shared with no one. A quiet laugh slipped out hollow, aching, the kind that hurt more than tears. She pressed the heel of her hand against her eye, wiping aw ay the dampness before it could fall.
The night outside moved on, indifferent, its distant lights flickering through the window. Aya leaned her head against the wall again, her fingers tracing the rim of the beer bottle absently. For once, behind the cold mask she wore so well, she wasn't the strict editor or the composed woman who kept Kaoru's chaos in check. She was just a lonely girl, whispering to the dark, her heart trembling with a love she'd never dared to voice.
And yet, as she glanced at the window, catching a faint reflection of herself in the glass, something stirred a fragile, fleeting hope that maybe, one day, he might hear her. Not tonight, but someday.
...I love you, kaoru.
—
End of chapter forty-one.
"Really a amazing journey indeed, even a devil may cry.." (Narrator)