Tokyo at night looked like someone spilled neon on the sky.
The billboards towered over the streets, flashing ads for drinks, idols, games I didn't care about. The air smelled like fried food, rain on hot concrete, and exhaust. Millions of people moved through it all, talking, laughing, living like the world wasn't ending tomorrow.
Kyle Conner was late, hungover, and 100% missing his flight back to America.
"Damnit!" He checked his phone again. 8:47 PM. The gate closed two hours ago.
First day back in Japan and he'd already screwed it up.
Sixteen years old, dark hair, zero social skills, and a one-way ticket he'd just wasted because he'd gotten drunk with some random guys at a bar last night. Some "celebration for your last week in Tokyo" they'd said. He should've known better.
"Great job, Kyle."
He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked. Tokyo didn't care that he was miserable. The streets were packed, kids in school uniforms, salarymen in suits, couples holding hands. Everyone had somewhere to be. Everyone except him.
He was supposed to leave next week. Now he was stuck here another month. School started back tomorrow, which meant his aunt would kill him if he showed up late again.
"Maybe it's not that bad," he muttered. "One extra month. I can survive."
Then a girl bumped into him.
"Watch it!"
Kyle stumbled back, blinking.
She was 16, maybe 17. Dark hair tied in a loose ponytail, white shirt stretched tight over her chest, short black skirt, white stockings that went up her thighs. The kind of girl that made your brain short-circuit before your mouth could catch up.
"Sorry—"
"You're staring," she said, crossing her arms. Her voice was sharp, annoyed.
"I'm not—"
"Your eyes are literally at my chest."
Kyle opened his mouth. Closed it. His face felt hot.
"...You have nice melons."
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
The slap came fast.
His cheek stung. The sound echoed in the busy street. People glanced over, then looked away. Nobody got involved in Tokyo unless there was blood.
She was already walking away, face red, muttering "pervert" under her breath.
Kyle stood there, hand on his cheek, trying to remember how to breathe.
His ego hurt more than his face.
"Right. Social skills. Need those." He zipped up his pants and started walking again, ignoring the way his face burned. Aunt Kimi's apartment was five minutes away. If she wasn't pissed, he'd be lucky.
---
The building was old, six stories, with a convenience store on the first floor. Aunt Kimi lived on the fourth. He'd stayed here every summer since he was twelve.
He took the stairs two at a time, still holding his cheek. The door to 4B opened before he could knock.
"Kyle? You're back!"
Aunt Kimi stood there in a tight black dress, hair slightly ruffled, holding a blue apron. She looked 25, not 35. Nobody believed she was his aunt. Men always stared when she walked down the street.
"You missed your flight," she said, and her voice cracked. "Your parents called me. I've been worried sick."
Kyle scratched the back of his head. "Yeah. Overslept."
She pulled him into a hug before he could say anything else. Her chest pressed against his, and his brain immediately went offline.
"Phough! Aunt Kimi, I'm not a kid anymore," he said, trying to pull away. His voice came out higher than he wanted.
"Hmph! So now I'm overprotective?" She let go, eyes narrowing. "What if I am?"
She stomped into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of red wine.
Kyle followed. "Wait, that's not what I meant—"
She was already crying.
The sight shut him up. Aunt Kimi never cried. She was loud, fast, overprotective, stubborn. But she didn't cry. Not even when his uncle left five years ago. Not even when his mom called with bad news.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, sitting next to her at the kitchen counter. "You're the best aunt in the world."
He hugged her again. This time she didn't pull away.
"I know I'm overprotective," she whispered, her voice muffled against his shoulder. "I just… can't help it, Kyle. After your mom… I'm scared I'll lose you too."
Kyle froze.
Nobody talked about Mom. Not since the accident. Not since he woke up in the hospital two years later to find out she was gone.
"Nothing's wrong with you," he said finally. "You just have a big heart." He wiped her tears with his thumb, feeling stupid and awkward.
She laughed wetly and pulled back, touching his cheek. "What's this?"
Kyle flinched. The red palm print from earlier stood out against his skin.
"Who slapped you!?" Her eyes went wide, protective anger replacing the sadness instantly.
"Uh. Fight," he lied. "It's nothing."
"You're terrible at lying." She grabbed ice from the fridge and pressed it to his cheek. Her fingers were warm against his skin.
"Mh—thanks," he muttered as the cold hit. The pain dulled a little. His ego still hurt.
Dinner was quiet after that. Her homemade sushi, his favorite. Rice buns, miso soup, grilled salmon. She teased him for eating too fast. He teased her back for burning the rice buns. Normal.
For ten minutes it felt like nothing had changed in two years. Like Mom was still calling every Sunday. Like he hadn't spent two years in a hospital bed wondering if he'd ever walk again.
At 10:45 PM she stood up and started clearing the plates. "I have work early. Sleep well, Kyle."
"Wait—can I sleep in a different room tonight?"
She blinked, confused. "Why? You always sleep in my room when you're here."
"I need privacy," he said quickly. Too quickly. "Don't want to bother you."
She studied him for a long moment, like she could see right through the lie.
Kyle held his breath.
"Fine," she said finally, sighing. "But don't lock the door. Goodnight, Kyle."
"Goodnight, Aunt Kimi."
---
The room he picked was small, barely used. Dust on the desk, old posters from five years ago. He changed into a green pajama set and flopped onto the bed.
The ceiling stared back.
He shouldn't have said that to the girl. He shouldn't have lied to Aunt Kimi.
He shouldn't be thinking about Aunt Kimi like that either, but his body didn't care. It never did.
"Idiot," he muttered to himself, burying his face in the pillow.
He had one week left before he left for America. One week to not screw up completely. One week to figure out how to be normal around people again after two years of silence.
Outside, Tokyo kept moving. Cars honked. Trains rumbled in the distance. Somewhere a drunk salaryman was singing karaoke badly.
Kyle closed his eyes.
Tomorrow would be better. It had to be.
[Author note: Hey guys, I was hospitalized for 2 years following a severe accident and lost my mom. It's been an incredibly dark time, but I am finally back, healing, and ready to finish Kyle's story.]