The small café overlooking Tokyo Bay was quiet on a weekday afternoon. Sunlight danced on the water, turning it into scattered diamonds.
At a corner table sat four people who, until a month ago, had never shared the same space.
Sora's adoptive parents — Mr. and Mrs. Tanaka — kind, middle-aged, slightly nervous.
Sora between them, swinging his legs happily, oblivious to the weight of the moment.
Haruka and Kaito across — holding hands under the table like teenagers.
Mrs. Tanaka spoke first, voice gentle.
"We always knew this day might come. Sora's birth parents… we promised the agency we'd be open if you ever wanted to meet."
Haruka's throat tightened. "Thank you… for giving him the love I couldn't then."
Mr. Tanaka smiled at Sora, who was coloring a piano on the kids' menu.
"He's been our greatest joy. But lately… he's been drawing two people. A man playing piano. A woman with a stethoscope. He said they visit his dreams."
Kaito's hand tightened on Haruka's.
Sora looked up. "Are you my dream people?"
The adults froze.
Haruka leaned forward, voice soft. "Sora-kun… would you like to know a secret?"
He nodded eagerly.
She took a breath. "The piano man and I… we made you. A long time ago, when we were very young. We loved you so much… but we couldn't take care of you then. So we found the best family we could. The Tanakas."
Sora's eyes widened. He looked at Kaito. "You're my real daddy?"
Kaito's voice cracked. "If… you want me to be."
Sora launched across the table into Kaito's arms — small arms wrapping tight.
Kaito held him like fragile glass — tears falling silently into dark hair.
Haruka joined — arms around both. Mrs. Tanaka cried happy tears. Mr. Tanaka nodded approval.
Later — park near the bay. Sora ran ahead with a kite, laughing.
The adults walked slower.
Mrs. Tanaka: "We'd like to share him. Weekends. Holidays. Slowly. Whatever feels right for him."
Haruka bowed deeply. "Thank you. Truly."
That evening — Kaito's penthouse apartment, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
Sora's first overnight with his birth parents.
He fell asleep on the couch during a Disney movie, tucked between them.
Haruka and Kaito carried him to the guest room — now decorated with piano posters and medical books for kids.
They stood in the doorway, watching him sleep.
Kaito whispered: "Our son is home."
Haruka leaned into him. "We're home."
He turned her gently — kissed her slow, deep, like sealing a vow.
No rush. Just the quiet joy of finally, finally being a family.
Outside, Tokyo lights twinkled like the festival lanterns from eight years ago.
Inside, three heartbeats whispered in perfect harmony.