The Takeda house was silent that evening, the tick of the wall clock echoing down the hallway.
Ryuzí slipped off his shoes at the entryway. The quiet pressed in, familiar and suffocating. He muttered a low, "I'm home," though he wasn't sure if anyone heard.
"Welcome back," his mother's voice floated from the kitchen.
Ayumi appeared with a tray of neatly cut fruit. Her smile was gentle, but faint, as though she was afraid of overstepping. "You must be tired. Eat something before you study."
Ryuzí nodded, taking the plate. "Thanks."
He carried it into the dining room, where his father sat reading the evening paper. Daichi glanced up briefly, then back down. "How was school."
"Fine."
"That's good."
The silence resumed, awkward and stiff. Ryuzí ate quietly, his mind already drifting elsewhere—to Suki's laugh, his sisters' chatter, the way the Aoyama house never seemed to lack warmth.
The next day, fate threw a curveball.
Suki had come running after school, waving a hand. "Ryuzí! Your mom dropped this bag outside the market. She forgot it."
Ryuzí blinked at the neatly tied grocery bag in Suki's hands. "...You followed my mom?"
Suki puffed his cheeks. "No! I just happened to see her. Don't make it sound creepy."
"Could've fooled me."
"Ugh. Anyway, I told her I'd return it. So here we are!"
Before Ryuzí could stop him, Suki marched right up to the Takeda house and rang the bell.
Ayumi answered, surprised. "Suki-kun?"
"Hi, Mrs. Takeda!" Suki said brightly, holding out the bag. "You forgot this."
Her eyes widened, then softened. "Oh... thank you. You didn't have to trouble yourself."
"No trouble at all!" Suki beamed. "Besides, it gave me an excuse to visit."
Ryuzí groaned. "...You weren't invited."
Ayumi hesitated, glancing between them. Then she stepped aside. "Would you like to come in? Just for a while."
"Of course!" Suki chirped, brushing past Ryuzí, who muttered under his breath.
The living room was spotless, almost sterile. Suki plopped onto the couch like he belonged there, grinning. "Nice place! Very... quiet."
Daichi looked up from his paper, startled to see an energetic boy in his home. "...Who's this?"
"This is Aoyama Suki," Ayumi explained. "Ryuzí's classmate. He helped me yesterday too."
Suki bowed politely. "It's nice to meet you, sir."
Daichi studied him for a long moment before nodding. "...Likewise."
The silence stretched. Ryuzí shifted uncomfortably.
But then Suki launched into chatter—about the festival, the project, Kenji's antics. He filled the empty air with stories, his laughter bouncing off the stiff walls. Even Ayumi chuckled softly, her eyes warm.
Daichi cleared his throat. "...So, you were in the relay?"
Ryuzí blinked. "...Yeah."
"You won," Daichi said flatly, though there was a flicker of pride in his voice. "Good work."
Ryuzí froze. His father rarely commented on anything. He muttered, "...Thanks."
Suki grinned at the awkward exchange. "See? He's proud of you!"
Ryuzí glared. "Shut up."
But his ears were red.
Later, when Suki left, Ayumi stopped her son quietly at the door.
"He's a good friend," she said softly.
Ryuzí hesitated. "...Yeah."
She smiled faintly. "I'm glad."
Her words lingered in his chest long after Suki bounded down the street, waving.
That night, Ryuzí sat in his room, staring at the ceiling. The silence didn't feel quite as suffocating anymore. He could still hear Suki's voice echoing through the walls, laughing, pulling warmth into corners that had never known it.
"...Idiot," he whispered, pressing a hand to his chest where something unfamiliar throbbed. But there was no anger in the word. Only something frighteningly close to longing.