Kaoru woke up to silence.
Not the peaceful kind that wrapped around you like a warm blanket after nailing a killer manga panel or crashing into bed post-all-nighter, eyelids heavy from staring at screens until they burned. No, this silence was cold, too clean, too empty, like someone had vacuumed out all the life from the apartment and forgotten to put it back. It pressed against his ears, making him hyper-aware of his own breathing, each inhale a little too loud, each exhale a whisper of "what now?"
He stared at the ceiling for a long moment, eyes unfocused, the faint cracks in the plaster blurring into abstract shapes that could be constellations if he squinted hard enough. Last night's stargazing lingered in his mind like a half-finished sketch, the telescope's crisp view of the cosmos, Grandpa's imagined approval twinkling from above, and that quiet exchange with Aya under the stars. Her smile, rare and genuine, had stuck with him more than he'd admit. "Just Aya is fine." 'Yeah, right. As if dropping formalities didn't feel like stepping off a cliff.'
"…Morning already?" he muttered to the empty room, his voice sounding foreign in the stillness. His body felt heavy, not from exhaustion but from fulfillment, the good kind, like closing a long-open manga arc with a twist that left readers screaming. Grandpa's promise, done. Telescope built. Stargazing. But the echo of it all sat in his chest, a faint hum that hadn't faded yet.
Kaoru sat up slowly, the bedsprings creaking in protest, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Something felt… off. Not wrong, exactly just shifted, like a panel redrawn at the last minute. He reached for his phone on the bedside table, the screen lighting up with a harsh glow that made him wince. Time: 9:17 AM. Date: December 25.
He blinked, staring at the numbers as if they were a typo. "…Christmas, huh. Already?" The word hung in the air, mocking him. No merry jingles from the radio, no scent of holiday baking wafting from the kitchen. Just the date, cold and factual.
No alarms blaring. No voices echoing from the living room. No frantic footsteps outside his door. Kaede bursting in with her trademark chaos, yelling about presents or demanding he play co-op on her Switch. Emi's chewing bubblegum while raiding the fridge. Takeshi's steady presence, always the one to brew coffee for everyone. Even Aya's quiet efficiency, her laptop humming as she nitpicked his drafts during late-night sessions. Gone. All of it.
Kaoru glanced around the room instinctively, half-expecting Kaede to pop out from under the bed like some holiday gremlin. But her usual mess scattered manga volumes and crumpled snack wrappers was tidied away. Kaede's jacket wasn't slung over his chair. Naoki's backpack, always stuffed with video games, missing from the corner. Aya's subtle traces, a forgotten pen or a sticky note with "Fix this plot hole" nowhere to be seen.
He exhaled slowly, the breath fogging the chill air slightly. "…Right. Holidays." Kaede had bolted back to their parents' place early, chattering about family dinners and avoiding "boring adult stuff." Emi and Takeshi had their own plans but it's obviously them together being lovey dovey, "what did you expect?" (Narrator.)
Aya had mentioned it briefly, casually, during their last editing session. "I'm taking a real break. No manuscripts, no deadlines. Just... disappearing for a bit." She'd said it with a small smile, but now it hit him like a delayed punchline.
Everyone had somewhere to be. Someone to share the day with.
Kaoru didn't.
He stared at the quiet room for a few seconds longer than necessary, the emptiness pressing in like an uninvited character in his story. Then he turned away, shrugging it off or trying to. "Guess it's just me again." The words came out lighter than he felt, a habit from years of solo grinding on manga deadlines.
He slipped into his favorite hoodie the one with faded ink stains from late-night inking sessions and padded out into the living area. The space felt bigger without the crew's clutter, the couch too neat, the table bare except for his scattered sketchbooks. He filled the kettle with water, the faucet's rush a welcome noise, and set it on the stove. As the flame flickered to life, the soft hum of electricity filled the void, oddly comforting in its mechanical consistency. Like a background track in an anime scene, underscoring the solitude.
A cup of instant ramen sat on the counter, his go-to fuel for creative marathons. Simple. Cheap. Familiar. No frills, just like him on days like this. As the water heated, Kaoru leaned against the counter, arms crossed loosely over his chest. His mind drifted to the telescope standing silently in the corner, draped carefully with a cloth to keep dust off its mirrors. A promise fulfilled. A weight lifted from his shoulders after years of carrying it like an unfinished manuscript. Grandpa's voice echoed faintly. "I hope in the future.. you'll have great friends." And he did. He has friends who'd turned the chaos into something magical. Kaede's spray-paint fiasco, Emi's nonchalantly chewing gum, Takeshi's steady hands, Naoki's late arrival, Aya's quiet support. It had been more than optics. It had been family.
And yet… here he was, alone again. The fulfillment didn't erase the quiet. If anything, it amplified it, like contrast in a black-and-white panel.
The kettle whistled, jolting him back. He poured the boiling water into the cup, the steam rising like a ghost, and sealed the lid. Set a timer. Three minutes. He always followed food instructions to the letter, maybe because so much else in his life ignored structure entirely, from erratic sleep schedules to plot twists that hit him at 3 AM.
While waiting, he grabbed his sketchbook from the table and flipped it open, sitting down with a creak of the chair. Even on Christmas, his hand moved naturally, pencil scratching against paper in rhythmic strokes. Rough storyboards emerged, nothing finalized, nothing polished. Just ideas pouring out like they always did when his mind wandered. Panels of a protagonist standing alone in a vast city, snow falling softly around him. Angles from low, making the figure seem small against the skyline. Dialogue bubbles left empty on purpose, letting the visuals speak.
A feeling he couldn't quite name bubbled up nostalgia? Melancholy? He sketched the character tilting his head up, breath fogging the air, eyes distant. "…All alone again." he murmured to the page, before letting out a quiet, almost amused breath. "Meh." It wasn't self-pity, it was observation, like critiquing his own draft. The protagonist looked a lot like him messy hair, hoodie, that half-smile masking deeper thoughts.
The timer beeped, shrill in the silence. Kaoru snapped out of it, shaking his head as if clearing mental fog, and peeled open the ramen lid. The savory steam hit him, a small comfort. He ate slowly, absentmindedly, chopsticks twirling noodles while his eyes drifted back to the sketch. Halfway through, a stray thought hit. What would Grandpa say about this? Probably something cheesy like, "Being lonely is peaceful, but being alone for all your life is.. a conversation that never ends." Or Kaede, barging in with, "Big bro, stop drawing and draw me Sanda!"
He wasn't sad. That was the strange part. He wasn't lonely in the dramatic, "woe-is-me" sense like a shonen hero brooding on a rooftop. It was more like… familiarity. Like returning to a room you'd lived in for years, empty but known. Before the crew invaded his life with their chaos, this had been his normal, solo holidays, ramen rituals, sketching through the quiet. Manga had been his escape, his world-builder, turning isolation into epic tales.
After finishing, he leaned back in his chair and stretched, bones popping softly like fireworks in miniature. "…Break time." He slipped his phone out of his pocket and began scrolling, the screen's glow a portal to distraction. Short videos popped up, cats failing at jumps, people slipping on ice in slow-mo, absurd cooking fails where everything exploded in flour clouds. Something about watching chaos from a distance made him smile. A small one at first, twitching at the corners. Then a real one, bubbling up as a guy in a Santa hat face-planted into a snowbank.
For a moment, Kaoru forgot it was Christmas. Forgot the world was supposed to feel warmer, brighter, filled with carols and cheer. He forgot everything except the quiet rhythm of his breathing and the faint hum of the heater kicking on. Laughter escaped him genuine, if soft at a clip of a kid unwrapping a prank gift, only to find a box of broccoli. "Classic." He chuckled, imagining Kaede pulling that on him.
Eventually, the screen dimmed from inactivity. He stared at his reflection in the black glass, disheveled hair, faint shadows under his eyes from irregular sleep, but a spark in them that hadn't been there before the telescope night. "…Huh." What was he doing? Wallowing in ramen and reels? Grandpa wouldn't approve. "Get out there, kid. The world is waiting."
Kaoru sighed, slipped the phone back into his pocket, and stood up. The apartment felt too still now, like it was watching him, judging his inertia. Like it knew he'd stay glued to the chair if he didn't move soon. "I'll just… take a walk." Fresh air, movement, anything to shake off the stasis. He grabbed his scarf from the hook, wrapping it around his neck with a flourish, and stepped outside, locking the door behind him with a click that echoed down the empty hallway.
The cold hit him immediately, a sharp slap that stung his cheeks and woke him fully. Not brutally, like a villain's attack, just enough to remind him he was alive, blood rushing to warm his skin. The streets were quieter than usual, a hushed blanket over the city. Shops shuttered, their windows dark behind festive displays. Lights hung from lampposts, blinking lazily in reds and greens, as if even they were tired from the holiday hype. Snow dusted the sidewalks, fresh and untouched in patches, crunching softly beneath his shoes like nature's ASMR.
Families passed by occasionally parents bundled up, kids laughing as they dragged sleds or pointed at decorations, their energy a stark contrast to his solitary stroll. Couples walked hand-in-hand, sharing hot drinks from thermoses, their breaths mingling in foggy clouds. Kaoru kept his hands buried in his pockets, walking with no destination, just forward momentum. The chill seeped through his hoodie, but it felt invigorating, clearing the cobwebs from his mind.
"So this is Christmas alone." he thought. Not bitterly, just observant, sketching the scene mentally. Panels of empty streets, snowflakes drifting like silent confetti, a lone figure cutting through it all. He tilted his head up slightly, watching his breath fog in the air, swirling before dissipating. The sky was overcast, a soft gray promising more snow, but hints of blue peeked through like forgotten plot threads.
His footsteps slowed as memories surfaced, uninvited but welcome. Flashbacks to Christmases past, chaotic ones with Grandpa and Grandma, the house filled with the smell of roasted chestnuts and laughter over board games. Kaede as a toddler, tearing into gifts with glee, paper flying everywhere. Then, after they were gone, quieter holidays with just him and Kaede, making do with microwave meals and marathon anime watches. "We're our own team, bro!" She'd say, fist-bumping him. Now, even that was paused, her with parents, him here. Growth, he supposed. Characters developing, arcs progressing.
But something about the quiet felt different out here. Not empty anticipatory. Like the world was holding its breath, setting up for a reveal. A plot twist lurking around the corner. Kaoru stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change, the pedestrian signal ticking down like a countdown timer in a thriller.
That's when he felt it.
A presence.
Not behind him, not threatening
Like a shadow creeping up in a horror manga, but warmer, familiar. His chest tightened slightly, a mix of surprise and something deeper, like recognition.
"…?"
Kaoru turned his head slowly, heart picking up pace.
And froze.
There, standing a few feet away under a snow-dusted lamppost, was Aya. Her coat buttoned against the cold, scarf loosely wrapped, eyes wide as if she'd been caught in the act. But it was the small, wrapped box in her hands that made his breath catch, a gift? For him?
"Kaoru?" she said, her voice cutting through the silence like a perfectly timed dialogue bubble.