~ Ayano's Pov ~
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'I guess I should've expected them to be here.'
I saw that Yukari, and her workers were all at it again with the construction of the training facility. It was going by pretty quickly too, and based off what I could see so far, the place will be pretty massive, it was at least thrice the length and width of my own home, maybe a little more if I'm being honest.
I slowly made my way towards her, asking "Is this gonna be an everyday occurrence until completion?"
"Yes, it will. The faster we get it out of the way, the better for you it will be..."
"Yeah, I can see it's going quite well... Though, I need to ask, are you ok?" I asked her.
I could tell from the side that Yukari had blinked once, then she paused her inspection of the thick blue blueprint she was holding. For a second, she just stared at me, like she was trying to decide how much she actually wanted to say.
Then she sighed, a bit softer than I expected. "I'm fine, Ayano. Just... busy."
Her voice was quite steady, professional even, but there was this tightness around her eyes that hadn't been there before... The kind you only noticed if you were really paying attention, which I was — and right now, after everything that went on today; I'm just thankful, my instincts were sharp enough not to miss it.
"You, sure?" I pressed on gently. "I mean, you don't exactly look like you've even slept much..."
She gave a small, tired chuckle at that, running a hand through her hair. "Sleep's a luxury when you're trying to build something like this under the radar." she said. "And… there's been a few complications with logistics. Nothing critical, but enough to be a bit of a headache."
I raised an eyebrow, I didn't want to have to bring this out, but it looks like I've got no choice... "Really then? Chisaki's been a bit worried about you too, she said you've been behaving oddly, and that you've changed... So I'll ask again, are you really ok?"
Though, throughout this entire conversation, she hadn't even face me since I got here... Which, didn't really seem like something she usually does, unless...
"Did, I do something wrong?"
For a moment, Yukari stayed silent, so silent that the only sounds between us were the hum of machinery and the distant clatter of metal and stone being moved. She gripped the edge of the blueprint a little tighter, the paper crinkling under her fingers. It was subtle, but, it told me everything I needed to know at least — something was wrong.
When she finally spoke, her voice was lower, almost careful. "No, Ayano... you didn't do anything wrong, in fact-"
Finally, she turned to look at me. And when she did, I caught a glimpse of something that looked like confusion in her expression.
"-In fact, I think I'm the problem..." She said, surprising me a bit.
I scratched the back of my head a bit, "Alright, do you want to head inside and talk about it? I'll even make you something too, that is ifyou haven't had anything yet."
For the first time since I arrived, Yukari actually smiled — but it wasn't her usual confident smirk. It was smaller. Weaker. Like the kind of smile you give when you're trying not to burden someone else with your problems, but you're just a little too tired to fake it properly.
"...Yes." she said quietly, almost in a whisper; I wouldn't have caught if I wasn't paying attention. "I'd like that."
I nodded once, not saying anything more. Sometimes, you didn't really need to. I simply gestured for her to follow me, and after a slight hesitation, she did — passing off the blueprint to one of her subordinates with a short nod.
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We walked towards my house in absolute silence, what else should I do with a mood this awkward? Still, it wasn't uncomfortable, though; it was just... heavy. Like the air around us was packed thick with things she probably wasn't ready to say yet... I didn't rush her. Whatever it was she was carrying, she definitely needed to let it out on her own terms.
Once we got inside, I headed straight for the kitchen. I figured something warm would help. A simple meal — nothing too fancy really, but hearty enough to shake off some of the exhaustion she was dragging behind her like a heavy coat.
While I got all the ingredients together, from the side, I saw Yukari leaning against the counter, arms folded, watching me with this strange, quiet look... It felt like she was studying me even. Or maybe she was just grounding herself in the normalcy of the moment.
"You know..." she said after a long pause, her voice a little steadier now, "Back when I was younger, I thought once you had a 'mission'... once you had something important enough to throw yourself into, everything else would just... sort itself out. That the work would be enough to keep everything else at bay."
I listened, slicing vegetables, letting her speak without cutting in...
"But... it's not that simple." She gave a short, humorless laugh. "Turns out, the work just becomes another thing you use to not think about everything you're too afraid to face... And, it becomes exponentially worse when you are hyper-aware of your own situation, and the situation of others."
I didn't know why exactly, but when the said that last bit, it felt, weird.
"Ayano... When last do you think I've ever had a genuine conversation?"
I paused mid-slice, the knife hovering above the cutting board as I turned my head slightly to look at her.
That question wasn't rhetorical, I could tell — not with the way she asked it. There was a rawness in her voice, a kind of honesty that didn't leave a lot of room for much if any pretending. She was really asking me here... But, why?
I set the knife down carefully and leaned against the counter across from her, giving her my full attention. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The weight of her words just hung there between us, heavy and a little brittle, like if I answered too quickly, I might shatter whatever strength she was holding onto.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "But... based on how you look right now, and how you asked me that... I'd guess it's been a long time. Maybe even longer than you realize."
Her gaze dropped to the floor, the edge of her mouth twitching into something like a grimace. "Yeah," she whispered. "A long time."
She exhaled slowly, arms tightening across her chest like she was trying to physically hold herself together. "You get so used to being the one with all the answers, you forget what it even feels like to just... talk. Not to report to others... Not to give orders. Not to solve someone else's problems. Just... talk. Like a normal person."
I didn't interrupt. I just listened. I knew that was what she needed more than anything right now.
"And the worst part," Yukari continued, her voice quieter now, almost a confession, "is that after a while... you start thinking maybe no one actually wants to hear you. That if you did try, you'd just make things worse... so you stop. And the silence just... grows."
She looked up at me then, and for the first time, she didn't hide anything. Not the exhaustion, not the loneliness, not even the fear. It was all there, plain as day.
"I think... I forgot how to ask for help, Ayano," she said, her words trembling at the edges. "And now that I finally need it... I don't even know how to anymore."
Something twisted deep in my chest at hearing that.
I pushed off the counter, walked over to her side, and — without thinking too hard about it — rested a hand gently on her shoulder. Not forcing anything. Just... there. Solid. Real. Someone she didn't have to put a mask up for.
"You don't have to know how..." I said quietly. "Aren't you already doing it just by being here? Talking with me? I think that's enough as a start."
For a second, I thought maybe she would pull away, retreat behind that professional armor she wore so well. But instead... Yukari had closed her eyes, shoulders sagging under the weight of everything she'd been carrying alone...
And for the first time since I met her... she looked relieved. In fact, she smiled...
"You know... You remind me much of Chisaki's father... Yet, not at the same time."
'What...?' I stopped, completely dead in my tracks, I didn't how to even respond to a question like that... Should I even do it?
"Chisaki's father," she began again, "was like the sun itself. Always warm, always steady. He had this... unwavering pull, you know? Like no matter how lost you were, if you just looked toward him, you'd find your way again. He was bright — sometimes so much so it almost hurt — but it wasn't a blinding kind of light. It was comforting. Reliable. He burned with a kind of passion that could push even the most broken person to stand up again."
I said nothing, just listened, as she let the memories thread their way out of her.
"But you..." Yukari paused, her fingers tracing an absentminded circle on the counter, "you remind me more of the sea."
"The sea isn't as obvious as the sun. It doesn't demand attention, and yet... it's endless. It's deep. It holds things — memories, hopes, regrets — in ways most people will never see unless they really, really look. You're calm on the surface, Ayano. Gentle, even. But there's a weight to you underneath. A quiet strength that doesn't shout or blind, but it's there... and it shapes everything around it without needing to announce itself."
She smiled faintly, almost to herself.
"The sea can be kind... but it can also be terrifying in its depth, in the vastness of what it hides. And somehow, you balance both — kindness and danger — without even realizing it."
I felt something tighten in my throat at her words, but I stayed quiet, letting her continue at her own pace.
"And then," Yukari whispered, "There's the moon."
Her eyes lifted, finding mine again, and for a second, it felt like the entire room stilled around us — Heck, it felt like even the world outside had gone silent to hear what she'd say next...
"The moon, it doesn't burn like the sun... and it certainly doesn't pull like the sea. It simply, reflects. It reminds people that light can exist even in the darkest places. It doesn't create its own fire... but somehow, it's no less important. Maybe even more so, because it stands quietly, watching over everything below it. Steady. Constant. Beautiful, even when battered and scarred..."
She took a breath, both deep and shaky, and finally, she turned to me and said —
"I think... deep down, you carry all three of these attributes... The sun, the sea, and the moon. And maybe that's why being around you... it feels just a little less lonely."
I didn't know what to say. Maybe there wasn't anything to say. Sometimes, words weren't enough for moments like this... But even then, I just had to ask..
"Yukari-san... Do... Do you, like me?"
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"..."
For a moment, Yukari just stared at me, wide-eyed — like the words I'd spoken hadn't quite registered yet. Or maybe they had, and she just hadn't expected them to be said aloud...
I could feel my heart thudding a little too loudly in my chest as the silence between us stretched, thick and fragile... I wasn't even sure why I asked. Maybe it was incredibly reckless. Maybe it was unfair, dropping a question like that on her when she was already unraveling like this. But at the same time...
I think part of me already knew the answer — had known it for a while now — buried under everything else she had done.
Slowly, Yukari's expression softened. She looked down, her hands gripping the counter behind her like it was the only thing keeping her steady. A dry, almost disbelieving laugh escaped her lips, but there was no cruelty in it. Just... a sad kind of wonder.
"You really are dangerous, you know that?" she whispered.
I didn't say anything... I just, waited.
Finally, Yukari pushed off the counter and stepped closer, close enough that I could see the faint tremble in her hands, the tired glint in her eyes that no amount of sleep could ever really erase. She reached out, hesitating just slightly, then brushed her fingertips against my sleeve — like she was afraid I might disappear if she touched me hard enough...
"I, do..." she said, voice low, almost broken in its honesty. "I like you, Ayano. More than I probably should, or ever should."
For some reason; Her words hit harder than I expected. They weren't grand or poetic. They weren't even said with much strength. But maybe that's why they meant much — because they felt real. Stripped bare of everything else she usually hid behind.
"I like you..." she repeated, a little firmer this time.
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"And, it scares me..."
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END