KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
The sudden pounding rattled the small wooden door so violently that the spoons in the kitchen trembled against their porcelain cups.
Ayaka jolted from where she sat straddling Haruto's lap at the table, lips still swollen from their lazy kisses, apron straps sliding down her shoulder. The sweet scent of breakfast—and the sweeter scent of their earlier intimacy—still hung thick in the air.
Her eyes widened, panic flashing across her face.
"…Who—who could that be at this hour?" she whispered, clutching Haruto's shirt as if the knocking itself threatened to tear him away.
Haruto's brows furrowed. He set his jaw, reluctantly lifting Ayaka from his lap and steadying her on her feet. "Stay behind me." His voice was calm but tense, like a man bracing for a storm.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. The sound grew sharper, more insistent, like whoever was outside knew someone was here and wouldn't be ignored.
Haruto tugged his shirt closed halfway, though his chest still showed. His every step toward the door felt heavy, measured, while Ayaka trailed a few paces behind, her fingers fidgeting nervously at her apron strings.
The last knock thundered. Then silence.
He drew a steadying breath, hand on the knob. A quick glance back—Ayaka's face pale with nervous expectation—then he turned it.
The door creaked open.
Light spilled in.
And standing there—
Was a girl.
Not danger, not a stranger—but someone who carried familiarity in the way she instantly lit up at the sight of Ayaka.
She had silky black hair cut into a neat bob that brushed her cheeks, sharp almond eyes that curved into a smile, and a traveler's coat draped over her shoulders. Her satchel was slung carelessly to the side, the leather worn from long roads.
"Ayaka!" the girl exclaimed, her voice warm, clear, unhesitating.
Ayaka froze. Her lips parted in shock. "...Kana?"
The girl grinned wide, stepping forward without waiting to be invited, arms spread as if to hug. "I knew I'd find you here! You disappeared off to the countryside and didn't even tell me? Some best friend you are!"
Haruto blinked, still half-shadowed in the doorway, his hand tightening instinctively on the frame.
Kana's eyes flicked to him—and lingered. Her smile didn't falter, but her gaze swept over him with unmistakable curiosity. Shirt undone, hair mussed, heat still lingering in his eyes from the morning—he must have looked every bit the man who had just been wrapped up with Ayaka.
"Ohhh…" Kana's voice lilted with playful suspicion as she tilted her head. "So this is why you didn't write back. You've been hiding a man out here."
Ayaka flushed scarlet, rushing forward to grab her friend's arm, as if she could physically stop her teasing words from entering the house. "I-It's not like that! Kana, don't just—!"
But Kana only laughed, squeezing Ayaka tight in an affectionate hug, before peering around her shoulder again at Haruto.
"And here I was worried you'd gone lonely after leaving Kyoto. Seems I was completely wrong." Her hazel eyes sparkled as they locked with Haruto's. "You've been… busy."
Haruto exhaled slowly, scratching the back of his neck. "...Haruto," he introduced simply, though his voice carried that wary edge of a man who wasn't sure yet whether this girl was storm or sunshine.
"Kana," she replied easily, slipping off her coat and stepping right past him into the little home, like she already belonged. "Ayaka's oldest friend. And now—" her lips curved into a sly smile "—apparently her unexpected houseguest."
Ayaka buried her face in her hands with a groan, torn between embarrassment and relief, while Haruto simply closed the door behind them with a heavy sigh.
The quiet, tender morning they had wrapped themselves in was gone.
Chaos had arrived—smiling, teasing, and carrying Kyoto with her.
The steam curled up in thin ribbons from the cups as Ayaka carefully set them down on the low table. Her cheeks were still faintly pink, her movements hurried, as though pouring tea might distract from the awkwardness that lingered in the room.
"Here," she murmured, sliding a cup toward Kana.
"Ahhh, just like old times," Kana sighed happily, wrapping her fingers around the porcelain. She leaned back comfortably, legs folded under her in a way that radiated ease—as though she hadn't just barged into Ayaka's countryside life unannounced.
Across from her, Haruto sat shirt properly buttoned now, posture straight but not stiff. He accepted his cup with a polite nod, sipping quietly while watching the two women.
Kana's eyes twinkled as she glanced between them. "So… Ayaka. Care to explain?"
Ayaka froze mid-sip, nearly choking on her tea. "E-Explain what?"
Kana smirked, drawing out her words with mock innocence. "Oh, you know. The mysterious man living in your house. The one whose hair looks like it was tugged on not too long ago. The one who answered the door like he'd just rolled out of your futon."
Ayaka sputtered, her face burning red. "K-Kana! That's—don't just say things like that!"
Haruto couldn't help the faint twitch of his lips—half amusement, half discomfort. He set his cup down carefully. "...You're quick to notice things."
Kana's gaze slid to him again, bold and unashamed. "Kyoto sharpens the eyes. You learn to read people fast." She sipped her tea, her lashes lowering slightly. "And you, Haruto-san, are very interesting to read."
Ayaka groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Stop flirting with him already…"
"Flirting? I'm only teasing," Kana replied sweetly, though her grin said otherwise. "Besides, I'm just glad you're not spending your days lonely. I was worried, Ayaka. You vanished from the city, and then your letters grew fewer and fewer…" Her tone softened for a moment, her hand brushing Ayaka's. "I missed you."
Ayaka peeked through her fingers, eyes shining with guilt and affection. "...I missed you too, Kana."
Haruto sat quietly, watching the warmth between them, the way Ayaka seemed both flustered and deeply comforted by her friend's presence. But he also noticed how Kana's eyes occasionally darted back to him—measuring, curious, as though peeling away the layers he kept guarded.
The tea cooled slowly. Conversation drifted between laughter about shared memories in Kyoto, Ayaka's clumsy attempts to change the subject whenever Kana teased too directly, and Kana's relentless curiosity about Haruto's presence.
By the time the cups were empty, the tension had shifted. Not gone—but transformed. Kana was no longer just a visitor. She was a piece of Ayaka's past, a sharp-tongued, affectionate, and unpredictable force that had now stepped into Haruto's present.
And Haruto knew, watching the two women smile at each other, that nothing about the quiet countryside would remain quiet for long.
The evening light spilled in golden hues across the wooden floorboards, shadows stretching long as Haruto stood, preparing to excuse himself. Ayaka fussed with the cups and tray, trying to tidy up after their tea. Kana lounged still, her sharp eyes following Haruto's every movement with a lazy, almost feline amusement.
Just as Haruto slid the door open to leave, Kana rose silently and stepped closer. Her hand brushed his arm, then slid upward with deliberate ease until she reached his ear.
Before he could react, her lips were dangerously close to his skin, her breath warm, her voice low enough for only him to hear:
"How was the morning dessert?" she whispered. "I watched all of it… every moan… every lick…"
Haruto's chest tightened, his pulse hammering in his ears. His eyes darted sideways, but Kana's face was inches from his, her lips curling into a wicked smile.
"Don't worry," she added, her tone sweetly cruel, "I won't tell anyone."
Her hand lingered at his sleeve before slipping away, as though nothing had happened. She turned with a smile that looked perfectly innocent, settling back down by the table just as Ayaka stepped in from the kitchen.
"Eh? What did you say to him?" Ayaka asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes.
Kana tilted her head, lips curving in that same unreadable smile. "Nothing at all. Just told him to look after you… because I'd hate for you to feel lonely here."
Ayaka blinked, heat rushing to her cheeks. "K-Kana…"
But Kana only sipped the last of her tea as if nothing had happened, her eyes flickering once more toward Haruto—sharp, knowing, and glinting with mischief that promised trouble.
Haruto shut the door behind him slowly, his body still buzzing from her whisper. He could still feel her words burning hot against his ear.
Kana hadn't just stepped into their quiet life.
She had thrown the door wide open.
The air outside was cool and crisp when Kana entered the house and I left the shrine. She had smiled so innocently when she waved goodbye, yet her whispered words still coiled in Haruto's ear like smoke he couldn't breathe out.
He needed air.
He needed distance.
Slipping on his jacket, Haruto told Ayaka he'd step out for a little while. His body was restless, his mind replaying Kana's smirk, her sly voice: I watched all of it… every moan…
The small village shop sat at the corner of the street, its old paper lantern glowing softly, a familiar stop for travelers and farmers. Haruto pushed open the sliding door, the faint bell above jingling. The smell of brewed tea and roasted beans hung in the air.
He went straight to the vending machine tucked by the counter and pressed for a can of black coffee—something bitter to wash away the sweetness of temptation clinging to his thoughts.
The can dropped with a metallic thud. He bent down to pick it up—
—and froze.
Just a few feet away, bent slightly as she selected her choice, stood Miyu.
Her hair, slightly damp, clung to her neck as though she had just bathed. She wore a light summer dress, pale yellow with white flowers, and in her hand she clutched a cold bottle of peach juice.
She hadn't noticed him yet. Her lips pursed slightly as she debated between flavors, her cheeks faintly flushed from the evening air.
Haruto's chest tightened.
The last time they had been this close—her body had been trembling beneath his, her voice crying his name in ecstasy as she gave herself to him. And now here she was, looking as fragile and innocent as if none of that had ever happened.
"Miyu…" His voice came out low, almost involuntary.
She startled, spinning around, the juice bottle clinking softly in her hand. Her eyes widened.
"Ha—Haruto-kun?" Her voice cracked with surprise, but also something else. A flicker of memory. A shadow of the night that still lingered between them.
For a moment, they just stood there—two figures in the glow of a lantern, the mundane act of buying drinks heavy with unspoken desire.
Miyu clutched the juice to her chest like a shield, her knuckles pale. "I… I didn't expect to see you here…"
Haruto tried to smile, lifting his coffee can. "Couldn't sleep without something strong. And you?"
She glanced away, shy. "Just… something sweet. I like peach…"
Their eyes met again, and the simple words carried weight neither could ignore.
Sweetness. Bitterness. Desire. Guilt.
The world outside the shop bustled faintly with cicadas and the distant river. But inside, it felt like time had stopped, trapping them once again in that forbidden current neither could escape.