Evening spread across the city slowly, like ink dissolving into water. Neon signs flickered alive one by one, replacing the fading sun with artificial constellations. The group of boys had migrated from the convenience store to the river embankment nearby, where the soft rush of water blended with distant traffic.
They didn't say much now.
The earlier laughter had quieted into something calmer—comfortable silence.
Jousuke stood slightly apart, leaning on the railing, watching the river. The faint orange streaks of sunset shimmered across the surface before fading into blue.
Asa came to stand beside him.
"Not every answer feels good," he said quietly.
Jousuke didn't look away from the water.
"I know."
"And you'll probably cry again," Asa added, not sugarcoating it.
"Probably."
Sakamoto approached next, hands in his pockets.
"But you won't cry alone anymore."
Jousuke finally turned to them.
His voice was small, but steady:
"…Thanks."
He didn't need to say more.
They understood.
They walked again—slowly, deliberately—toward the station.
Ryuusei was humming terribly and loudly.
Kaito hit him with his bag.
Natsu tried to separate them but tripped over his own feet in the process.
Joutarou sighed and kept walking.
Asa clapped once and said, "Okay! Let's not get arrested today."
It was stupid.
It was normal.
It was exactly what Jousuke needed.
They reached the station entrance, where their paths diverged.
Ryuusei pointed dramatically.
"CALL US IF YOU FEEL LIKE BEING UNWELL. I WILL RUN. I WILL SPRINT. I WILL—"
Sakamoto dragged him away by his hood.
"Be quiet."
Kaito lifted a hand lazily.
"See you."
Joutarou gave a small nod.
Natsu waved wildly.
Asa smiled.
Jousuke bowed his head slightly, sincere:
"See you, guys."
They left one by one, disappearing into the evening crowds.
And then, Jousuke started walking alone.
The air was cold enough that his breath came out white.
The scarf around his neck—the one Kaede had given him—felt heavier now.
Not in burden.
In meaning.
His footsteps were slow.
Not tired—just thoughtful.
"Miyazaki…"
"Boutsuki…"
"Sakurai…"
Each name carried warmth.
Each memory was soft.
Each feeling real.
But now—
I know.
He still didn't know how to say it.
He still feared hurting someone.
He still feared the moment of truth.
But fear no longer felt like a wall.
It felt like a door.
A door he would open.
The lights of his street were dim, the houses quiet.
When he reached his front gate, his hand hesitated on the metal for only a breath—
then pushed.
He stepped inside.
The hallway light was on.
It was warm.
His mother was in the kitchen, placing bowls to dry.
His sister's slippers were by the door.
Family.
Home.
Even if shaken, even if wounded—
still here.
Jousuke exhaled, steady and clear.
"I'm home, Mom."
His mother's hands froze for a moment—just a heartbeat, nothing more—and then she turned, eyes soft.
"Welcome home."
The words landed with the weight of everything they had been through.
Grief.
Distance.
Silence.
Healing.
He did not cry.
He did not fall apart.
He simply stepped forward.
Into the light.
Into warmth.
Into the choice he would soon make.