The train rattled quietly as it cut through the evening. I sat by the window, watching the fields give way to buildings, then streets lit with lamps. My reflection looked back at me in the glass calmer than it used to be, but my chest still twisted with something I couldn't name.
At seven, I finally stood in front of the house. The same wooden door, the same faint smell of earth after rain, but my heart… it didn't feel the same.
I lifted my hand and knocked.
The door slid open, and there she was my mother. She blinked as if she hadn't expected me, her lips parting just a little.
"…Haruto."
My throat tightened. Before I could think, I stepped forward and hugged her. For a second, she froze. I thought she might push me away, but slowly, carefully, her arms came around me.
"I'm home," I whispered.
"Welcome back," she said softly.
Her voice was warmer than I remembered. For a moment, I wanted time to stop.
Inside, the house looked just as I had left it, but every corner carried a different weight now.
"Go take a bath first, after you arrange your things," she said, slipping into her usual tone.
"Okay."
I carried my bag to my room and set it down on the bed. The moment my fingers left the handle, I froze.
"…It still aches," I muttered to myself. The walls, the ceiling, even the faint smell of wood they reminded me of things I wished I could forget.
I sat down, staring at the bag. "If only she stayed with us like she is now… then maybe this place wouldn't feel so heavy."
When I unzipped the bag, the laptop box and the new phone peeked out. Grandma's gifts. Mother looked in just then, her eyes widening.
"She bought those for you?"
"Yeah," I said.
She smiled faintly. "That's good. Congratulations."
She left again, back to the kitchen. I stared at the laptop a little longer before whispering, "Even if she hates me in the future… she's still my mother. No matter what, I'll protect her."
I finally stood, grabbed my towel, and went to bathe.
The water hit my skin, warm and steady, but my head wasn't calm. My thoughts spun in circles.
It's my fault. Mine and Dad's. We left her alone. And I… I brought Souta into this house. I put her near that bastard.
My hands clenched against the sink. Never again. I won't let Souta step into this house. I won't give him the chance.
But even as I said it, the storm inside me didn't fully quiet. A part of me wanted to forgive. Another part demanded revenge. I didn't know which side would win.
At eight, I heard the front door slide open again.
"I'm home!"
Dad's voice.
I stepped out of the bathroom just in time to see him carrying a bag, smiling wide. He looked tired, his suit creased, but he was… cheerful.
"What's that?" I asked.
He grinned. "Clothes. For you and your mom."
Mother came out of the kitchen, surprise flickering in her eyes. "Clothes?"
"Yeah. I got a bonus today. Forty-five thousand yen." He scratched the back of his neck, almost shy. "I thought… maybe I'd spend it on you two. Haruto's had a hard time lately, and it's been a while since we enjoyed something together."
He placed the bag on the table. Mother pulled out a dress first simple, elegant, shining faintly under the light. She held it up against herself, her expression softening in a way I hadn't seen for years.
"It's beautiful," she whispered.
I found my set of clothes inside too. Casual, neat, something I could wear at school or outside. My hands brushed the fabric, and without meaning to, I smiled. "Thanks, Dad."
Relief filled his face. "So, Haruto, how was it at Grandma's? Did you enjoy it?"
"Yeah," I said, though my thoughts were far away in her office, in the waterfall, in the quiet nights where I filled page after page. "It was good. She showed me a lot of things."
"That sounds like her," Dad chuckled before heading off for his own bath.
Mother and I lingered by the table, touching the clothes again. For a few minutes, the air felt… lighter. Like maybe we were a family again.
Dinner was simple: grilled fish, miso soup, rice, and pickles. We sat together, Dad telling us a funny story about a coworker spilling coffee on the manager. Mother tried to hide her laugh behind her hand, and I just watched them both, the warmth curling faintly inside me.
It was fragile, this moment. But I wanted to hold it anyway.
Later, I went back to my room. The night pressed against the windows, insects humming outside. I sat at my desk, pulled out my notebook, and flipped through the pages filled with every betrayal, every moment I'd written down.
Then I stopped.
My eyes narrowed at the entries about my mother. Slowly, I tore those pages out, the sound of ripping sharp in the quiet.
"No," I whispered. "I won't let Souta touch her life again. I won't let him come here. Not ever."
My grip tightened on the notebook. "Souta. Miyuki. Your end is already written."
I leaned back in my chair, breathing hard. That's when I caught my reflection in the mirror across the room.
I froze.
Something was different.
I stood, walked closer. The person looking back at me wasn't the same boy who had left. My shoulders looked broader, my arms firmer. Even my face sharper, more alive.
I pulled off my shirt quickly, staring at the body in the glass. Muscles had formed where there was once nothing but softness. My stomach was flat, my skin healthy. I touched my chest, almost in disbelief.
"…What happened to me?"
And then I remembered the waterfall. Three hours every day, for nine days. The way the freezing water battered my body until I thought I'd collapse. The food at Grandma's balanced, rich, nothing like the meals I had here.
"That's why," I murmured. "The waterfall… the food… all of it."
A laugh escaped me, low at first, then heavier. I gripped my head with one hand, staring at my reflection.
"Souta…" My lips curled into a grin. My eyes glinted with something sharp, dangerous. "You should be wary of me."
The laugh echoed in the quiet room.
I wasn't the same Haruto anymore. Not the weak boy they thought I was. Not the naive son, not the fragile boyfriend.
I was something else now stronger, sharper, and far more dangerous.
And soon, Souta and Miyuki would learn exactly what that meant.