Kaito's Perspective
The familiar, warm light of the Sato home felt different that evening. It was as if the afternoon's strange, social sunlight had followed Kaito inside, illuminating corners of his heart that usually stayed in shadow. The scent of his father's yakiniku and his mother's perfectly seasoned miso soup filled the air, a comforting, grounding aroma after the surreal events of the day.
His father, Mr. Kenji Sato, a gentle but highly respected architect known for designing serene public libraries, flipped a piece of beef on the tabletop grill. His mother, Mrs. Hanako Sato, a university literature professor specializing in classical poetry, placed a bowl of rice before Kaito with a soft smile.
Aiko, of course, was a live wire of barely contained glee. She nudged Kaito's knee under the table.
"So," she began, her voice sweet with faux innocence. "The shopping was very productive. We got tea, snacks, and… oh yes, we met someone."
Kaito kept his eyes on his rice.
"Someone very interesting," Aiko pressed, grinning at their parents. "Mom, Dad, brace yourselves. Your son, the Lone Wolf of Sakuragaoka High, the Master of Solitude… has finally made his first girlfriend."
The words landed in the cozy dining room like a firecracker.
Kaito's head snapped up, a hot flush exploding across his face and neck. "Aiko!" he hissed, the controlled composure shattering completely. He reached out and swatted the back of her head with a flat palm—a clumsy, brotherly gesture he hadn't used since they were children.
His parents stared. His father paused, tongs in mid-air. His mother's eyes went wide, then crinkled with unmistakable delight and curiosity.
"She is not my girlfriend," Kaito said, his voice strained with uncharacteristic emotion. He took a steadying breath, forcibly reassembling his calm. "She is Tanaka Hikari. She was my partner for the history project. She is… a friend."
The word, spoken to his family in the safety of their home, made it more real than it had ever felt before.
His father's kind face broke into a warm, understanding smile. "A friend is wonderful, Kaito. We're glad to hear it."
His mother's smile was softer, her poet's eyes seeing more than just the words. "Tanaka Hikari," she repeated, as if tasting the name. "Anyone who can pull you out of your shell enough to earn the title 'friend' must be very special. We would love to meet her someday."
Aiko, rubbing her head with an exaggerated pout that couldn't hide her triumph, winked at him. "Sure, sure. 'Friend.' She had very… intense eyes. I liked her."
Kaito looked down at his food, the warmth in his chest spreading, battling with the lingering embarrassment. It was out. The secret, fragile connection he'd been guarding was now known to the people who loved him most. And instead of pressure or interrogation, they had met it with simple, joyful acceptance. The fortress walls felt less like protection and more like a barrier between him and this warmth.
Hikari's Perspective
The Tanaka apartment was quieter, the air tinged with a rare sense of occasion. Dr. Akari Tanaka, a cardio-thoracic surgeon whose time was measured in heartbeats saved, had managed to clear her evening. She sat at the dining table, still in her elegant slacks and blouse, looking slightly out of place in her own home but radiating a focused, loving attention.
Kenji had ordered delivery—a lavish spread of sushi—to celebrate their mother's presence. Hikari poked at a piece of salmon nigiri, the day's events playing on a loop in her mind.
"Kenji tells me you did exceptionally well on your history project," her mother said, her voice crisp but not unkind. "An A-plus. He mentioned you had a partner who was instrumental."
Hikari nodded, not looking up. "Yeah. Sato Kaito. He's… the top student."
"And he helped you?" her mother pressed, her clinical mind seeking the mechanism of success.
"He didn't just help her, Mom," Kenji interjected, swallowing a piece of tuna. "He defended her when the whole class thought she didn't do any work. Stood right up and set the record straight. It was pretty solid."
Dr. Tanaka's sharp eyes moved from Kenji to Hikari, reassessing. "I see. That speaks to good character. You should thank him properly."
Hikari shrugged, a familiar gesture. "I did. He's… he's my friend." The word felt foreign on her tongue in this context, but also surprisingly right.
A flicker of surprise, then a gentle smile, touched her mother's usually tired face. "A friend? That's good, Hikari. Truly good." There was a hint of relief in her voice, as if diagnosing a long-standing condition that had finally shown improvement. "You should invite him over sometime. I'd like to thank him myself."
Kenji laughed. "We actually ran into him and his sister today at the supermart. We all hung out, got ramen. I already thanked him. He's… very precise. Politer than a textbook."
"You met him?" Hikari's mother asked, her eyebrows rising. "And you didn't invite him for a proper visit? Kenji, you should have. It would have been the polite thing to do."
"It was kind of a spontaneous thing, Mom," Kenji said, but he was smiling. "Next time."
Hikari listened to them talk about Kaito as if he were a real person who could be invited, thanked, discussed. Not as a rumor, a prize, or a problem. Just a person. Her friend. The solid, quiet weight of that reality settled in her chest, warmer than any miso soup. In her mother's busy, solution-oriented world, and in her brother's protective one, Kaito Sato had been acknowledged. He existed now not just in the shadowy hallway of her secret memory or the back corner of a classroom, but here, in the light of her family's awareness.
She took a bite of her sushi, the taste clearer, sharper than before.
(End of Chapter 15)