A few days had passed…
Misaki had already packed their luggage—two suitcases, one heavy with clothes, the other filled with documents and essentials. She had been meticulous, quietly going through every drawer, folding everything with care.
The house had fallen into an unnatural stillness during those final days.
Misaki spoke little, and Kenshiro even less. Yet, they shared an unspoken understanding: this was something that had to be done.
Kenshiro had asked Daisuke for help with the official paperwork, including school documents, transfer certificates, passport matters, and his uncle had handled all of it swiftly. He didn't have the mental energy to deal with it alone, and thankfully, Daisuke didn't question much. He simply nodded, respected his decision, and did what needed to be done.
And now… the day had come.
Kenshiro woke early that morning, long before the sun had fully risen. The sky outside was still a pale indigo, and the air carried the faint scent of damp earth from the night's rain. He sat on the edge of his bed for a long time, staring blankly at the wall.
The silence of the house was suffocating.
It wasn't just quiet.
It was empty.
Every creak of the floorboards reminded him of his father's footsteps. Every shadow across the hallway looked like his mother's figure in passing. The house no longer felt like a home. It felt like a monument to loss—a place carved out of memories, and each one heavier than the last.
He eventually forced himself up and went for a bath. The water steamed against his skin, but it did little to ease the weight in his chest.
He didn't cry. He'd long passed the point of tears.
After his bath, he dressed simply and headed to the dining room, where Misaki was already waiting. A small breakfast sat neatly on the table—just some rice, miso soup, and grilled fish. She smiled faintly at him as he took a seat across from her.
They ate in silence.
For a while, the only sounds were the soft clinking of chopsticks and the occasional slurp from soup bowls. Kenshiro wasn't hungry, but he forced it down. He knew Misaki had woken early to prepare it.
As the clock ticked closer to their departure, they both stood up, quietly cleaned the dishes, and prepared to leave.
Misaki grabbed the bags while Kenshiro went to the front of the house. He stopped just before opening the door.
Something tugged at him.
Slowly, he turned around and looked at the familiar walls, the worn-out couch, the corner where the family photo still stood. A flood of memories surged through him: his mother humming while cooking, his father helping him with homework, their laughter echoing through the house.
He blinked… and for a second, he saw them—standing near the hallway, smiling, waving at him gently.
His chest clenched.
"Stop it… They're gone. They're not coming back."
He groaned softly, gripping the doorknob so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Then, without a word, he stepped outside.
The morning sunlight stung his eyes. The taxi was already waiting just beyond the main gate. Its engine purred gently, smoke curling up from the exhaust. Misaki followed close behind, rolling the bags with quiet efficiency.
And standing at the side of the street… were the people who had become his second family.
Daisuke, Aiko, Ren, and Kiyoko.
Daisuke walked up first, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "You're really not gonna let us drop you at the airport?"
Kenshiro shook his head. "No… I need to do this myself. I have to learn how to be on my own."
Daisuke hesitated, then smiled faintly and patted his back. "You're stronger than you realize, kid."
Aiko stepped forward next. Without warning, she pulled Kenshiro into a warm hug. He froze for a moment, then slowly returned it.
"Be brave," She whispered. "And if you ever feel lost… call us. Anytime. This is still your home."
Kenshiro nodded, eyes lowered. "Thank you… for everything."
Ren walked up with his hands in his pockets, offering no words—just a fist raised halfway.
Kenshiro gave a small grin and bumped his own fist against it.
"Don't do anything stupid," Ren muttered. "And if you do… do it right."
Kenshiro chuckled softly. "I'll try."
Then, finally… Kiyoko.
She had been standing still the whole time, arms tightly folded across her chest, eyes glistening with unshed tears. As he turned to her, she stepped forward and stared at him like she was trying to memorize every detail of his face.
"You're really going…?" She asked, her voice quiet but cracking. "Just like that…"
Kenshiro gave a half-smile. "You knew I had to."
"But still! You just… you're leaving us all behind."
"I'm not leaving forever," He said. "I just need time… away. This place… this house… it hurts. I can't stay here and pretend I'm okay."
She bit her lip and looked down. "Then take me with you."
He blinked in surprise. "What?"
She looked up again, her cheeks flushed with emotion. "Or at least don't act like it's that easy. Don't smile like it's fine. It's not."
Kenshiro took a step forward, gently ruffling her hair.
"You're such a crybaby," He teased.
"Shut up!" She sniffled, smacking his hand away. "You always do that. Make everything seem like it's okay."
"I might be leaving…" He said softly, "But that doesn't mean I'm not coming back."
Kiyoko trembled and her hands clenched at her sides before she suddenly extended her pinky finger.
"Promise me," She said. "Right here. Right now."
He looked at her for a long moment.
"Seriously?" He said with a faint smirk. "You're still doing pinky promises?"
"Shut up and promise!"
He sighed, then smiled, wrapping his pinky around hers.
"I promise."
She closed her eyes tightly and nodded.
Kenshiro took a deep breath, turned to Misaki, and gave her a nod. She quietly walked over to the taxi and began loading the bags.
Aiko wiped her eyes. Daisuke gave a wave. Ren shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.
Kenshiro opened the door of the cab and paused one last time.
"Thank you… all of you," He said, glancing back at them. "I'll be okay... somehow."
Then he slipped inside the car, and the door shut with a final click.
Misaki joined him. The engine rumbled as the driver shifted into gear.
Kiyoko watched the car begin to pull away, her chest aching.
"Idiot…" She whispered. "You better come back…"
Inside the taxi, Kenshiro sat quietly, eyes forward, jaw clenched.
He didn't look back as he knew he couldn't.
Because if he did… he might never be able to leave.