By 7:30 PM, Shibuya's neon lights glared through the windows. Makoto's eyes felt gritty as if coated in sand.
"Alright, wrap it up, people!" Kenta shouted. "Tomorrow we start the Physicality Update. I want ideas on how to make the haptic feedback feel more real!"
Makoto packed up and walked back to the station; his brain felt empty. The commute back was even worse. The train was packed with silent, exhausted people. He stood for forty minutes, briefcase knocking against his knees, his mind still full of code and grocery lists.
"I needed to buy milk." That was the only thought that made it through.
Makoto stopped at the convenience store near the apartment, moving on autopilot. He grabbed milk, sour gummies for Yuna, and decaf tea for Mika. He was so tired he almost walked out without paying. The clerk's voice sounded distant.
When he finally reached the apartment door, relief hit him. He was home, he could take off the suit and breathe. He climbed the stairs, his feet dragging. All he wanted was a hot shower, a cold beer, and maybe to bury his face in someone's soft chest for twenty minutes.
He pushed open the door. "I'm home," he called, voice rough.
The living room was a disaster. Yuna and Ayane were in the middle of prep for the next photoshoot. Half-finished props covered the floor. Power cords tangled across the rug.
"You're late!" Yuna shouted without looking up. She sat on the floor surrounded by red fabric, hair falling out of its tie. "The glue gun is broken again!"
Makoto stepped inside, and his foot caught on a game controller. He stumbled, groceries swinging, the milk thudding against his leg. "Dammit!" He snapped, surprised by his own voice.
Yuna froze, hand over the fabric. She turned, her gray eyes narrowing. "Excuse me? What was that tone, baka pig?"
"I said dammit!" Makoto repeated, his exhaustion boiling into anger. He pointed at the floor. "Why is there always a mess? I just fought through Shibuya, stood on a train for an hour, and I can't even walk into my own home without tripping over your crap!"
"So what??" Yuna stood up, her face going red. "I've been working all day too! I've been sewing and fixing this prop so we can actually pay bills!"
"I'm the one with the real job!" His words came out sharp. "I'm paying the rent and electricity! Is it too much to ask for a clean living place?"
The silence that followed was heavy and sharp. Ayane, who had been laughing a second ago, went quiet, her eyes darting between the two of them. Mafuyu appeared in the kitchen doorway, her face pale, a spatula held loosely in her hand.
Yuna's lower lip wobbled for a second before she covered it with a sneer. "Oh, I see. The great salaryman is home. We should all bow down because he spent the day in an office while we did unimportant work."
She grabbed the controller and threw it at the couch. "Fine! I hope you enjoy your clean, lonely house, pig!" She grabbed paper towels from the counter and dropped to her knees, scrubbing the rug hard. "I'll clean your room," she choked out. "I'll clean it all up. Since I'm just a burden."
"Yuna, I didn't mean to..." Makoto started, anger draining into guilt.
"Go away," Yuna snapped. "Go eat your instant noodles and rest your precious brain."
Makoto stood there, watching her scrub. He wanted to kneel and apologize, but exhaustion weighed him down, and his pride stung.
After finishing cleaning, Yuna stormed to her room and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the figurines on the shelf.
Makoto stood in the center of the room, grocery bag still in hand. The adrenaline was fading, leaving only a cold regret. He looked at Ayane, who still stared at the floor, and Mafuyu, whose eyes held quiet hurt.
"I'm going to shower," Makoto muttered, unable to meet their eyes.
He retreated to the bathroom, peeling off the suit that felt like lead. He stood under the hot water, forehead against the tiles. The house was too quiet. He'd won the argument but lost something more important.
When he came out, wrapped in a towel, Mika waited in the hallway. She looked tired without her work glasses. She was in a simple, soft pajama set, her hair loose.
She held a glass of water and a plate of crackers. "You're tired, darling," she said quietly, her voice actually sounded worried. "Your nerves are shot. You need to eat something and breathe."
Makoto took the water, hand shaking. "I shouldn't have said that. I know Yuna works hard too. I'm just so tired."
Mika stepped closer and touched his arm. Her hand was cool. "I know. You're trying to be two people at once, and it's grinding you down."
She looked at him, her brown-pink eyes searching his face. "But we aren't your coworkers, darling. You don't have to hide from us. We're your family and your support."
She reached up and brushed her thumb under his eyes. "Go to bed, I'll talk to Yuna. She's stabbing a plushie with a pair of scissors right now, but she'll calm down."
"Mika…" He grabbed her hand.
"Go," she said softly. "Sleep. Tomorrow will be better."
Makoto closed the door and didn't turn on the light. He stripped off his clothes and left them on the floor, the same kind of mess he'd just yelled about.
Then he fell onto the empty bed. He lay in the dark, his stomach growling, his heart aching as he listened to the house. Yuna was throwing a tantrum on her bed after Mika came in. Ayane walked softly to the kitchen, making late-night cup noodles with Mafuyu.
Makoto rolled toward the wall. This was the grind, the reality of trying to have everything. He closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn't come as he kept seeing Yuna's hurt face. "I messed up," he thought.
But he was too tired to fix it. So he lay there in the empty bed and let the silence take him.