The air outside Tokyo Station was sharp with autumn.A thousand strangers moved past them, but Mamori walked like a woman on a mission, eyes ahead, steps clipped. Alex followed with suitcase in tow, silent. Sena walked slightly behind them both, as if unsure where he was supposed to stand.
They turned down a smaller street flanked by convenience stores and vending machines.
Mamori broke the silence first.
"That's really all you brought?" she asked, nodding at the single suitcase.
Alex didn't look over. "Didn't need more."
Sena gave a sheepish laugh. "You used to bring, like, three duffel bags just for a weekend trip."
"I was packing for the worst back then," Alex said.
"And now?" Mamori asked.
"Now I know what's worth carrying."
That line quieted things for a bit.
The station faded behind them as they crossed through older neighborhoods. Telephone wires overhead, empty ramen bowls stacked outside a shop door, the faint ping of pachinko from somewhere unseen.
Mamori slowed down when they passed a certain corner.
"That lamppost," she said. "You threw your bike into it after you wiped out trying to impress us."
Sena perked up. "Oh yeah! You swore you were gonna do a power slide."
Alex gave a low chuckle. "I did. Just… sideways."
They walked a few more steps before Mamori spoke again, this time quieter.
"You could've called."
Alex didn't answer.
"Three years, Alex."
"I know."
"You left and didn't even say goodbye."
"I didn't know what to say."
Mamori's voice stiffened. "You could've started with that."
Sena tried to cut the tension. He jogged a few steps forward.
"It's not like you forgot us, right? You remembered all the turns so far."
Alex nodded. "Muscle memory."
"And now you're back in Japan for school?"
"Something like that."
Mamori glanced over. "You're not the same."
"Neither are you."
"I didn't turn into a stranger."
Alex didn't answer.
A few blocks later, they passed a small corner park. The jungle gym was still there, rusted now. The chain swing creaked in the breeze.
"You broke your arm there," Sena said, pointing. "Tried to jump from the top bar to the slide."
"Didn't try," Alex said. "Succeeded. Just didn't stick the landing."
Mamori shook her head. "You were always reckless."
"And you were always mad about it."
"Someone had to care if you broke yourself."
Alex glanced over, but Mamori had already looked away.
Eventually, the neighborhood began to look familiar even to Sena.They were close now.
As they passed under a row of cherry trees, Sena cleared his throat.
"So uh, Alex—do you still play? Football, I mean."
Alex nodded. "Yeah."
Sena smiled nervously. "Cool. I've been helping out with the Deimon team."
"Helping out?"
"Y-Yeah," he said. "Sort of like… assistant manager. Kinda?"
Mamori jumped in immediately.
"He's not playing," she said firmly. "Just helping with errands. Hiruma drags him around like a glorified gopher."
Alex looked at Sena. "That true?"
"Sort of," Sena said, eyes flicking away.
Mamori frowned. "He's too nice to say no, and Hiruma takes advantage of that. Sends him on supply runs, makes him mop the field, carry gear—ugh. It's ridiculous."
Alex said nothing. But he watched the way Sena flinched, how he didn't deny it.
"Sounds like a lot for a manager," Alex said.
"Exactly!" Mamori snapped. "And he won't quit, either."
"It's not that bad," Sena muttered.
"You say that, but I see you limping into class."
"I trip sometimes…"
Alex's eyes narrowed. Not judgment. Just… noticing.
"Right," he said. "Tripping."
Mamori sighed.
"You should talk to him, Alex. Maybe he'll listen to you."
"Maybe," Alex said. "Or maybe he just likes running."
Sena didn't say anything. But he smiled — faintly.
The Anezaki house came into view: white exterior, sloped brown roof, still two chipped flowerpots on either side of the gate.
Mamori paused to unlock it.
"You're not just back for school, are you?"
Alex met her eyes for a moment.
"No."
She didn't ask anything else.
Inside, everything smelled like memory — polished wood, fresh rice, tatami mats, laundry detergent, soy sauce.
"Mom! Dad! He's here!" Mamori called as she slipped off her shoes.
Her mom emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. Her eyes widened.
"Alex-kun…!"
"Mrs. Anezaki."
"You grew up," she said, almost stunned. "Last time I saw you, you could barely lift a backpack. Now look at you."
"Good genes," he said with a small bow.
She pulled him into a soft hug anyway. "You're always welcome here."
"Thank you for having me."
Her dad stepped out a moment later, still holding a wrench from the laundry room.
"You break anything, you're fixing it."
"Deal."
Lunch was homemade and quiet. Somen noodles, grilled fish, chilled tea.
Mamori handled most of the talking. Sena dodged questions about club activities. Alex mostly listened — but he watched.
Watched how Mamori didn't let certain things go. Watched how Sena tried to change subjects.
At one point, Mamori pointed at a faint bruise on Sena's elbow.
"See? That's new. And don't say it's from tripping again."
Sena tried to laugh. "I think I bumped into the supply cabinet."
"While running full speed?" she said flatly.
Alex didn't comment.
But the look he gave Sena said plenty.
After lunch, the three of them drifted to the living room. The TV played quietly. Mamori sat with a book open but unread. Sena laid out on the floor, arms crossed behind his head. Alex leaned against the wall near the window, sipping tea.
"We used to build forts in here," Mamori said absently.
"You used to yell when they collapsed," Alex added.
"Because you were bad at architecture."
"You used to sneak in and knock them over when we weren't looking," Sena mumbled.
"That was strategic sabotage," Alex said.
They almost smiled. Almost.
Mamori set the book down.
"I'm serious about you talking to Sena," she said.
"About what?"
"About getting away from Hiruma. That guy's going to break him if he keeps dragging him into this football mess."
"You think he's in danger?"
"Of course. Hiruma carries guns to practice."
"Maybe Sena likes it."
"He's too nice to say no. You know that."
Alex looked at Sena.
"Is that true?"
Sena looked back up at the ceiling.
"I don't mind helping."
Alex nodded.
But said nothing more.
Later, after everyone had drifted into their own corners of the house, Mamori brought him a blanket and a pillow for the guest room.
She stood in the doorway for a second, watching him unpack.
"It's good to have you back."
"You sure?"
"I don't know yet," she said honestly. "But I missed you."
Alex folded a shirt into the drawer.
"Missed you too."