The living room is dim, late-afternoon light filtering through half-closed curtains.
The TV is off, the kotatsu is warm under the blanket, and the only sound is the soft clink of ice in Kiyomi's glass of barley tea.
She's curled up on the couch, legs tucked under her, scrolling through her phone with one hand while the other absentmindedly steals the last cookie from the plate between us.
Kiyomi
Akioichi finally got his cast off yesterday.
He sent me a video of him trying to walk and immediately face-planting back onto the hospital bed.
I laughed so hard I snorted barley tea out my nose.
Me (small smile from the opposite end of the couch)
Classic Akioichi.
Kiyomi
Right?
He's coming back to school next week.
Says he's going to milk the "tragic hero" thing for all it's worth.
Free melon-pan from the girls for at least a month.
She nudges my shin with her socked foot.
Kiyomi
You should come eat lunch with us when he's back.
He keeps complaining that his girlfriend's twin brother turned into a hikikomori the second we graduated.
Me
Just… tired.
Kiyomi (softening instantly)
I know.
But fresh air and Akioichi's terrible jokes might help.
She sets her phone down, stretches like a cat, then flops sideways so her head is almost in my lap.
Kiyomi
Speaking of which…
Akioichi asked me out properly this time.
Real date.
Cinema, then that new crêpe place in front of the station.
Saturday.
Her cheeks go pink, but she can't hide the huge grin.
Kiyomi
I said yes.
I look at her—really look.
She's practically glowing, eyes bright, the same way she used to shine when we were kids and she won a stuffed animal at the festival.
A real smile comes easier than it has in weeks.
Me
Good.
He's been waiting long enough.
Kiyomi (grinning, embarrassed)
Shut up.
You're supposed to be the protective brother and threaten to break his other leg or something.
Me
Consider both legs pre-broken in spirit.
She laughs—bright, surprised, the sound I've missed most.
Then she scoots closer, drops her head onto my shoulder for a second, and presses a quick kiss to my cheek.
Kiyomi
I'll text you if the crêpes are worth the hype.
Don't wait up, okay?
She hops up, grabs her bag from the genkan, and waves once from the doorway—bare feet, messy ponytail, strawberry-scented air trailing behind her.
The front door clicks shut.
I stay on the couch a moment longer, staring at the empty space where her warmth was.
She's going on a date.
She's happy.
She's safe. For the first time in weeks, the weight on my chest feels a little lighter. I pick up the last cookie crumb, brush it off my fingers, and whisper to the quiet room.
Me
Goodbye, Kiyomi.
Have the best time
And for once,
I almost believe the world might let her.