The scent of miso soup drifts through the air, steam fogging up the kitchen glass. Yuna slices daikon radish, her hands slow and eyes unfocused. Beside her, Takano-san chops green onions, humming an old tune with a light heart.
"If you keep spacing out like that, someone's going to end up eating carrot peels," she teases with a soft laugh.
Yuna smiles back, weakly. She doesn't know how to begin, what to say… She means to escape here for just one night, but the warmth of this kitchen now presses down on her chest like something unbearably heavy.
The doorbell rings. Takano-san wipes her hands and hurries to answer it. A child's voice rings out, high and pure.
"Mommy! Daddy!"
Little Shin runs in, clinging to her legs. She scoops him up with a smile that could light the whole room. Her husband follows behind, dropping a grocery bag onto the table and ruffling Shin's hair.
"He was so well-behaved today. Say hi to Yuna-chan too, sweetie," she says, handing the boy a soft-cooked piece of carrot.
Yuna's breath hitches. She turns away, pretending not to notice. Instead of reaching out to hold Shin like she usually does, she steps back toward the sink and begins washing a knife that is already clean. Her expression is stiff, her body language slightly panicked.
Takano-san notices, but she says nothing. She continues playing with Shin until her husband carries him off to the other room.
The kitchen returns to its quiet hum. Yuna keeps her head down, peeling another carrot. Her hands tremble.
"Yuna," Takano-san's voice comes gently from behind. "Is something wrong?"
Yuna doesn't reply.
"You didn't want to hold Shin today. You usually love playing with him. But today… you look like you're about to cry."
The knife pauses mid-motion. Yuna lowers her head further.
The truth she has discovered recently is too overwhelming. There is a life—tiny, fragile—growing inside her. She hasn't told anyone yet, but time is running out, and silence will only trap her deeper.
She remembers the real reason she comes here tonight. She hasn't been able to tell Hiroki. He worries too easily, and she doesn't want to burden him. Not yet.
A tear lands on the counter. Yuna forces out the words.
"…I'm pregnant."
Silence falls over the room.
Takano-san doesn't move. Her eyes are wide, but calm—looking at Yuna like one would look at a little sister lost in a storm.
"How long have you known?"
"Just three days ago…" Yuna whispers. "I'd been feeling tired for a few weeks, but I thought it was just a fever. I wasn't sure until… until I saw the two lines."
"Who's the father?"
There it is. The question she fears most.
Yuna's hands clench. Her gaze grows distant. "I don't know. Honestly, I don't know anything anymore…"
Takano-san steps forward, gently brushing Yuna's hair. The tenderness in her touch is just enough to break her open, but not enough to make her fall apart.
"Are you going to tell Hiroki?"
Yuna shakes her head, then nods faintly. "I don't know… I'm not ready. I'm scared."
"Scared of being a mother?" Her voice holds no judgment. It is just a question.
Being a mother? Yuna's chest aches. She remembers all the times she has dreamed of motherhood—of becoming the perfect woman, nurturing a family of her own.
But now, everything has changed. Like a dense darkness has swallowed what was once her light.
"…Yeah. I'm scared of turning into one of those women who live lives they never chose. I'm scared Hiroki won't want the baby. I'm terrified of being alone."
Takano-san meets her gaze, her face lined with empathy.
"Then before telling anyone, you need to ask yourself one thing. Do you want to keep it?"
Yuna's breath hitches.
"…I don't want to get rid of it. But I don't know if I have the strength to keep it either."
"Then don't decide tonight. Stay here. Sleep. Tomorrow, when you wake up, think about it again." Takano-san grips her shoulders, her eyes both kind and steady. "You're not alone, okay? You still have me."
Yuna nods, burying her face into her shoulder, clinging to the only anchor she has left.
Even lost among a thousand roads, at least she still has someone to lean on.
That night, in the quiet bedroom Takano-san has prepared for her, Yuna feels her body sinking into the mattress like she is being pulled underwater.
A faint strip of light peeks from under the door. Children's chatter echoes softly outside. It reminds her of the recent nightmares—strange, distorted voices she has begun to fear.
Her hand clenches the pillow. Turning her head, she spots something in the dark—a small, human-shaped figure on the desk.
She flicks on the light. It is Kamen Rider.
The superhero figurine stands proud, left behind unknowingly by Shin. Yuna stares at it through stinging eyes.
Somehow, without realizing, she pulls it into her arms. She doesn't know when she starts crying—only that her chest feels as heavy as a rain-filled sky.
The toy is cold and solid in her palm. Its hard plastic shell presses into her heart. And somehow, that feeling—so strange—brings with it a glimmer of warmth.
It is just a toy. Just molded plastic. But tonight, in this hollow room, it becomes the only thing that stays with her.
She thinks, hazily: I wish I were strong like you.
Fighting every day without needing a reason. Just because you care. Without hesitation. Without fear.
Or maybe… maybe I just want someone like you by my side. Someone who won't ask, "Are you okay?" but will always stand behind me when I'm about to fall.
Someone… like Hiroki, perhaps.
Hiroki never makes bold promises. He isn't a man of justice or grand ideals. He doesn't have chiseled muscles or sharp, heroic eyes.
He is just… there. Eyes always a little red from lack of sleep. That old jacket draped over her shoulders on late nights. The cigarettes lit when she goes quiet. The soft hum of his guitar in the dark.
He isn't a superhero.
But somehow, with him, she feels safe.
Yuna smiles faintly. Her dry lips curve at the edges.
She hugs Kamen Rider closer, like she is holding her childhood dream, her spiraling thoughts, or maybe… a child.
She closes her eyes.
She doesn't know what tomorrow will bring. She doesn't know if Hiroki will stay. But tonight, at least, she will sleep.
Because tomorrow, she will get up. And she will face it all.
The door creaks open with a soft click.
"Kamen Rider… That's my Kamen Rider!"
The light switches on. Yuna sits up instantly, her gaze locking onto little Shin standing at the doorway, gripping his shirt, eyes glassy with tears. Behind him stands Takano-san, startled.
"Yuna's holding my Kamen Rider…"
Children. They always say the simplest truths.
Yuna's chest tightens, breath catching in her throat.
Takano steps in, scooping up Shin. "It's okay, baby. You left it in here. Yuna was just borrowing it for a little while."
But Shin's wails only grow louder—sharp and aching. Piercing.
Yuna covers her ears, head bowed low. The crying. The screaming. It is too much. Too familiar.
She doesn't even notice when Kamen Rider slips from her hands, hitting the cold floor with a hollow thud.
It doesn't break. But Shin cries harder.
"My Kamen Rider…! It fell! It's broken!"
Yuna stares at the toy lying at her feet.
Kamen Rider. Her superhero.
The silent savior she clings to all night. Now lying on the floor. Powerless. Unable to protect anyone. Just a plastic shell.
The only thing that makes her feel less alone… has slipped from her grasp.
Just like her.
Once again, she has fallen.
….
Yuna retrieves the pregnancy-test kit from the drawer and walks into the kitchen, where Hiroki is already seated. She places the stick on the table.
Two unmistakable lines—deep and clear.
"I find out a few days ago… I'm sorry it takes me so long to tell you," she begins, voice trembling.
She has already processed it with Takano-san—this is the hardest part: revealing the truth to Hiroki. Yet her words stumble in her throat.
"Two lines…," he murmurs, incredulous, then looks at her, seeking confirmation.
Yuna bites her lip and nods.
"I have it confirmed at the pharmacy, go to the clinic… with those symptoms, I'm sure—"
"Have you told anyone else?" he interrupts.
She answers honestly: "Only Takano-san."
He tightens his grip, joints whitening, voice sharp. "You should've told me first."
"Does it matter?" she counters.
He snaps, "Yes, it does!"
"Well, Takano-san is a woman—"
"What if the father is…" his voice halts, suffering clear in his eyes.
Hiroki shifts, torn. Who the hell is he, really?
Just a man drifting in a relationship without a name, without shape, without love or principle. How can he possibly talk about responsibility?
And yet... he has always been careful. Meticulous.
So how can this happen? The question torments him.
But wait.
If this is truly due to a lapse in judgment—or even just a moment of carelessness—he can accept responsibility no matter what. He will never abandon her—or the baby.
"Hiroki, right now… I'm so exhausted. And it could even be Ryusei's," Yuna adds softly, staring at the test stick.
Hiroki's jaw clenches. If her ex is involved, it complicates everything.
"Let's leave that for later… Who it belongs to isn't important—what matters is your health and the baby's safety. We can test later. I want to know, too, if it's mine…"
He has that right—regardless of paternity, the truth needs to be clear.
Yuna exhales a heavy sigh, acknowledging her mistakes.
But calling the unborn child a mistake… she shakes her head. None of this is wrong.
He reaches for her wrist, pulling her gently close. Sound fades, leaving only their quiet breaths.
Hiroki leans forward, placing his ear against her belly. She braces herself—his face so close, breath warm over thin fabric.
He says nothing.
Yuna holds her breath, eyes unblinking.
Then the clock's ticking breaks through.
"I don't hear anything," he whispers, voice thick.
She cracks a small smile—then tears fall. "It's not fully formed yet…"
"I know."
His hand moves to her waist, steadying her.
"But I want to listen… even if it's just a faint sound… I'm not running away," he whispers fiercely.
Yuna closes her eyes. No one prepares you for moments like this—with a child not yet born, with a man like Hiroki: strong, gentle, sometimes overwhelmed by love.
She gently pushes him away.
"I'm not ready to decide anything… Hiroki, I don't want anyone committing to something so uncertain right now."
He looks up, eyes red.
"But I do."
Her voice catches. Can she let him become the superhero of her life—not the kind who fights battles, but the kind who silently protects someone lost like her?
She clenches her fist, then releases it—releasing fear, part of it.
"Let's decide tomorrow. For now… just stay with me."
"Tonight, I'll stay with you."
She nods weakly. "Yes."