With a soft rustle of fabric, the sliding door opened.
Daichi's mother, Sumi, stepped in with elegance that commanded the room. She wore a short, glossy black nightgown, its silky fabric clinging to her curves. Her cleavage pressed against the neckline, threatening to spill out, while the hem barely reached mid-thigh—her long, thick legs exposed more than half their length.
Haruto froze for a second. Daichi's mom… She's even more stunning than top-tier actresses. No wonder girls at school trip over themselves around Daichi. He inherited everything from her.
Sumi's crimson lips curled into a smile as her gaze fell on Haruto. "How are you, honey? It's been a while."
"I'm good, Aunty. How are you?" Haruto replied politely, trying not to stare.
"As fine as always," she answered smoothly, tucking a lock of glossy hair behind her ear.
Daichi cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. "Tomorrow is the parent-teacher meeting. Dad can't make it. Will you come?"
Sumi tilted her head, her voice dripping with softness. "What happened to you, Daichi? Why are you asking me? You should be telling me to come—not asking."
"I can tell that to my family members," Daichi shot back, eyes narrowing. "You're not family anymore."
The warmth in Sumi's smile faltered for the first time. She leaned closer, her voice dropping into a whisper. "But… I am your mother."
Daichi's jaw tightened. "So should I assume you're coming?"
Sumi crossed one leg over the other with elegance, her gown riding even higher. "Tell me the time."
"12 p.m.," Daichi muttered.
"Mm. Don't buy food from the school shop tomorrow," she said softly. "I'll make a bento for you."
"No thanks." Daichi's frown deepened immediately.
Her smile faltered again. She turned her gaze toward Haruto instead, eyes almost pleading.
Haruto rubbed his neck, unsure how to reply. "…Aunty, you know I've always loved your cooking. Please make one. If Daichi won't eat it, then I will."
Sumi's expression softened instantly. She leaned forward, placing a delicate hand on Haruto's cheek. "Sure," she whispered warmly.
Haruto's face burned red at the intimate gesture.
"Mom's cooking is awesome, Saito-san!" Sakura chimed in suddenly.
Sumi chuckled. "He's been eating it since kindergarten."
"Ohh…" Sakura laughed awkwardly, fidgeting with her hands.
Daichi clicked his tongue, glaring at the whole exchange like it was poison.
"Let's go." Sumi suddenly stood, the silk of her gown shimmering under the warm light.
"Where?" Haruto blinked.
"For dinner, Haru," she said with a gentle smile.
Daichi shot Haruto a sharp look—do something.
Haruto scrambled for words. "Ah—thanks, Aunty, but we already ate at my home. I made omurice."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh? You can cook now?"
"Y-Yeah…" Haruto scratched his cheek, cheeks warming.
"Let's go, Haru." Daichi's voice was tight; he was already standing.
Haruto nodded quickly. "Thank you, Aunty. See you tomorrow at school."
But Sumi's gaze lingered on him, soft and piercing. "Haru… I know Daichi hates me. But you don't, do you?"
"No," he answered instantly, without hesitation.
Sumi's lips curved into a nostalgic smile. "Then come again. I still remember—you used to call me 'Mom,' not 'Aunty.'"
Haruto's face went beet red. "O-Okay, Aunty…"
Sumi laughed softly, the sound like silk sliding over skin.
"Let's go." Daichi yanked the door open, his anger heavy in every movement.
Later, the two of them sat at their favorite ramen shop. Steam rose from their bowls, but Daichi barely spoke, his chopsticks moving silently.
Haruto slurped his noodles, glancing at his friend's stormy expression. The air between them was thick, heavier than the broth itself.
"You seemed too happy to meet your aunty," Daichi spat, emphasizing the word like poison.
Haruto blinked. "What do you want me to say?"
"Oh, nothing!" Daichi's voice rose, then cracked. He stopped, fists trembling on the handlebars.
"Daichi… You're overreacting."
Their voices bounced sharply against the empty canal-side road, the night swallowing their words.
"Oh yeah? Am I overreacting?" Daichi's laugh was bitter. "My lifelong best friend being all polite to a woman who slept with that corrupt politician—day in, day out—in my own house. She left us for money. She cheated on Dad!"
Haruto's throat tightened. "…Yeah, I know that. But what can I say to her?"
For once, Daichi was silent, his anger twisting into something wordless.
Haruto's voice softened. "See, Daichi… You have every right to be angry. But it's been over three years. Your father moved on—why don't you?"
Daichi's head snapped toward him, eyes burning. "Hmph. Dad moved on? Or did they make him move on?"
"…Yeah, I know."
"You know?" Daichi's voice cracked into a roar. "Did you see ten yakuza storm into my home? Did you see pistols slammed onto our table, forcing Dad to sign divorce papers? And you're telling me I should move on? That I'm overreacting?"
Haruto froze, words caught in his throat. "...Sorry," he whispered.
The silence that followed was heavier than iron.
"Bye, Haru." Daichi climbed back on his bike, not looking at him. "I'm so angry right now, I'll say something horrible. Something that'll ruin our friendship. I don't want that. Let's… just meet tomorrow at school."
Before Haruto could reply, Daichi pedaled off into the night, his figure swallowed by darkness.
Haruto stood alone by the canal, his bicycle at his side. The only sound left was the quiet, endless flow of water.