Guest room was dimly lit, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken tension. She sat on the edge of her bed, her body slouched as though weighed down by invisible burdens. Beside her, Yuzuru sat upright, his gaze fixed on her with quiet concern. The awkwardness from the dinner lingered, thickening the air between them.
"Shiori," Yuzuru began softly, his voice careful, laced with worry. "Did you see the doctor earlier? What did they say?"
Shiori's reply was curt, her tone cold as she kept her gaze elsewhere. "Yes, I saw the doctor. Nothing's wrong. Just a normal cycle."
Yuzuru's brows furrowed slightly, a hint of frustration creeping into his expression. He hesitated before speaking again, his voice steadier this time. "But, Shiori... why were you so harsh to Akarin earlier? She was only trying to help."
Shiori turned sharply toward him, her eyes flashing with irritation. "Are you lecturing me now, Yuzuru?"
The edge in her voice caught Yuzuru off guard. He blinked, momentarily silenced, but quickly gathered himself, his tone still calm. "I'm not lecturing you. I'm just worried. I know you don't like situations like this, but did you really have to be that cold to her? Akarin didn't mean any harm."
Shiori scoffed, turning her back to him, her posture rigid. Her voice was sharp, almost accusatory. "I know exactly what I'm doing. Don't try to tell me what to do, Yuzuru."
The tension between them thickened, Shiori's words slicing through the room like ice. Yuzuru sat quietly for a moment, his concern warring with his growing frustration. He finally stood, exhaling softly, and left the room without a word.
A few moments later, Yuzuru returned, a heat pad in hand. He approached her cautiously, his movements deliberate. "Here," he said gently, kneeling beside her. "This might help."
But as he leaned in to place the heat pad on her stomach, Shiori slapped his hand away, her voice biting. "I don't need your help."
Yuzuru froze, his patience beginning to fray. Despite her rejection, he maintained his composure. "Shiori," he said firmly but kindly, "I'm just trying to help. You don't have to push me away."
Before she could protest again, Yuzuru gently took her hand in his, his touch warm but unyielding. He placed the heat pad on her stomach and held it there for a moment, his eyes meeting hers with quiet resolve.
Shiori didn't say another word. Her body remained tense, her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't push him away this time. Yuzuru sighed softly, withdrawing his hand.
He stood, his shoulders heavy with unspoken disappointment. "I'll leave you to rest," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
As he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click, an ache settled deep in his chest. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed there was no way to reach Shiori-not tonight, and perhaps not ever.
---
Outside Kenta's house, the night was calm, the chill of the air softened by the serene beauty of the star-filled sky. Yuzuru and Akarin sat on a wooden bench in the garden, their breaths visible in the crisp air. Though the cold pressed against their skin, neither seemed bothered, their thoughts consumed by the weight of unspoken emotions.
Breaking the silence, Akarin spoke, her voice carrying a hint of mystery. "Yuzuru," she began, a small, enigmatic smile playing on her lips. "Do you still remember the promise we made?"
Yuzuru exhaled deeply, his gaze fixed on the endless expanse above them. His voice, when it came, was heavy with hesitation. "I remember," he admitted. "But... I'm afraid. I'm afraid of how our families would react if I ended things with Shiori. They'd be shocked. They wouldn't understand."
Akarin turned to face him, her expression firm and her eyes glinting with certainty. "A contract is still a contract, Yuzuru. Nothing can change that. And let's not pretend-Shiori doesn't care about you. You know that."
Yuzuru shifted uncomfortably, his fingers curling into fists on his lap. His voice wavered as he replied, "I know... but it's not just about whether she likes me or not. This is about something deeper-about family, about the responsibilities I carry."
Akarin leaned forward, resting her arms on the table in front of them. Her gaze bore into his, unflinching and sharp. "Responsibilities?" she repeated, her tone laced with frustration. "Yuzuru, you're not a machine. You're human. Humans have feelings. And burying yours will only hurt you more. You know that better than anyone."
Yuzuru finally looked at her, his brows furrowed in conflict. "I'm not sure I can make that choice, Akarin," he said softly. "You say the contract is binding, but should I really follow through on something we agreed to years ago? Or... should I listen to what I feel now?"
Akarin's tone softened, her stern demeanor giving way to one of understanding. She straightened, her voice gentle but resolute. "You need to make a decision, Yuzuru. If you keep living in fear and regret, you'll never find freedom. Don't wait until it's too late."
Yuzuru fell silent, his thoughts spiraling into a storm of doubt and longing. The stillness of the night seemed to magnify the turmoil within him, as though the universe itself urged him to confront the truth. Yet, even as he grappled with his emotions, the weight of his responsibilities anchored him, preventing him from reaching for the change he desperately needed.
The stars above continued to twinkle, indifferent to the battles of the human heart, as Yuzuru sat motionless, caught between duty and desire, fear and hope.