Part 5 — The Quiet Living Room
The house had long since gone quiet.
Dinner had been cleaned up.
The lights had been turned off.
And eventually—
the three siblings had gone to bed.
Outside—
the village remained restless.
Occasional footsteps crossed distant rooftops.
A few voices echoed far away.
But compared to earlier—
everything felt calmer.
For now.
Hours passed.
Night deepened.
Moonlight slipped softly through the bedroom window.
Ayame shifted slightly beneath her blanket.
Then slowly opened her eyes.
For a few moments—
she simply stared at the ceiling.
Not fully awake yet.
Then something felt strange.
She turned her head slightly.
The futon on her left was occupied.
Kaito.
Fast asleep.
His blanket half-kicked away as usual.
Ayame almost smiled.
Then she looked to her right.
And froze.
The futon was empty.
Haruto's futon.
The blanket remained there.
But Haruto wasn't.
Ayame immediately sat up.
"...Haruto?"
No answer.
The room remained silent.
Her chest tightened slightly.
She quietly stood and walked toward the door.
Careful not to wake Kaito.
Then she stepped into the hallway.
The house was dark.
Silent.
For a moment—
she thought he might be in the bathroom.
Or getting water.
But then—
she noticed a faint light downstairs.
Ayame slowly walked down.
Step by step.
And eventually—
she reached the living room.
There—
on the sofa—
sat Haruto.
Curled slightly into himself.
His knees pulled up.
Moonlight from the window illuminated part of his face.
And only then did Ayame notice—
he was crying.
Quietly.
Trying not to make noise.
Trying not to wake anyone.
Ayame stood there for a second.
Then slowly walked over.
She didn't ask what happened.
She already knew nothing had happened.
At least nothing new.
She quietly sat beside him.
Neither spoke.
The room remained silent.
Only the faint sounds of the night filled the space around them.
After a while—
Ayame finally spoke softly.
"...Can't sleep?"
Haruto quickly rubbed his eyes.
"...I was trying to."
His voice sounded small.
Ayame nodded.
A few more moments passed.
Then she asked:
"...Bad dream?"
Haruto shook his head.
"...No."
Another silence.
Then eventually—
he spoke first.
"...The house feels weird."
Ayame looked toward him.
Haruto stared at the floor.
"...Too quiet."
His voice barely rose above a whisper.
"...Usually Aka is still awake."
A pause.
"...Or cleaning something."
"...Or telling us to stop staying up."
His eyes lowered again.
"...Or checking if we packed our academy things."
The room became quiet.
Because Ayame had noticed those things too.
She just hadn't said them aloud.
Haruto swallowed.
"...Everything feels weird."
A pause.
Then finally—
the words came out.
"...I miss her."
The confession was simple.
Honest.
Childlike.
Ayame felt her chest tighten slightly.
Because she missed Akari too.
A lot.
But someone had to stay strong.
At least during the day.
Haruto rubbed his eyes again.
"...It's only been one day."
His voice cracked slightly.
"...How can it feel this long already?"
That question made Ayame look away briefly.
Because she didn't have an answer.
She was wondering the same thing.
For several moments—
neither spoke.
Then Ayame slowly reached over.
And gently placed a hand on top of Haruto's head.
Just like Akari used to do.
Haruto immediately froze.
The gesture felt familiar.
Painfully familiar.
Ayame spoke softly.
"...She's going to come back."
Haruto lowered his head.
"...What if she doesn't?"
The question escaped before he could stop it.
The room became still.
Ayame's hand remained on his head.
Then she answered.
Not as a child.
Not as a sister trying to comfort him.
But as someone forcing herself to believe it too.
"...Then we'll wait."
Haruto stayed silent.
Ayame continued quietly.
"...One day."
A pause.
"...Ten days."
"...A month."
Another pause.
"...However long it takes."
Her voice remained steady.
"...We'll wait."
Haruto stared at the floor for several seconds.
Then slowly—
he leaned slightly toward her.
Not much.
Just enough.
Like a younger brother seeking reassurance.
Ayame didn't move away.
The two simply sat there together.
In the quiet living room.
In the middle of the night.
Missing someone important.
And waiting for her return.