The morning light spilled softly into the small apartment, painting the kitchen in tones of amber and quiet warmth. The city outside still yawned awake — the sound of cicadas, the distant hum of traffic, and the faint whistle of the early train stitched together the calm rhythm of another beginning.
Yukino stood in front of the counter, tying her apron a little too tightly. Her long black hair was loosely tied up, a few strands falling over her violet-tinted eyes. There was a gentle determination in her movements this morning — the kind that comes not from routine, but from hope.
"Alright," she murmured to herself, staring at the empty lunchbox before her. "Let's try to make it perfect this time."
Honoka sat on a stool nearby, swinging her tiny legs and watching her sister with a serious expression that looked far too mature for a four-year-old. Her small hands clutched a peeled carrot, though she seemed more interested in Yukino's expression than in helping.
"Ne, Onee-chan," Honoka finally spoke, her soft voice breaking the silence. "For Ken-niisan?"
Yukino froze for a second, the spoon in her hand pausing midair. "W–what are you talking about?" she stammered, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "This is for you, Honoka."
Honoka tilted her head, a tiny mischievous smile forming — something so rare, it almost startled Yukino. "Hmm… then why are you smiling, Onee-chan?"
"I—I'm not smiling!" Yukino quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the rice balls. "And stop saying weird things so early in the morning!"
But even as she said it, she could feel her heart flutter slightly — a faint, unfamiliar rhythm she hadn't felt in a long time. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to hide her embarrassment.
Honoka giggled quietly, covering her mouth with her little hands. Then she clumsily reached for a piece of seaweed, trying to help. Her fingers were tiny and clumsy; she ended up sticking the seaweed to her own cheek instead of the rice ball.
"Ah!" she blinked in surprise, looking up at her sister.
Yukino laughed — genuinely, softly — as she bent down to peel it off Honoka's cheek. "You're a mess, Honoka," she said gently. "But… a cute mess."
Together, the two continued their little morning ritual — Yukino forming rice balls, Honoka occasionally sneaking pieces of tamagoyaki and earning playful scolds. The air between them was light and clumsy, filled with the small laughter that only siblings can share.
When the bento was finally complete, Yukino looked down at it — the shapes uneven, the eggs slightly overdone, the vegetables imperfect but colorful. Still, it looked warm. Homemade. Honest.
Honoka leaned over the counter, her eyes wide. "It looks yummy!"
"Really?" Yukino smiled softly. "Then maybe… Ken-niisan will think so too."
She hadn't meant to say it aloud, but the words slipped out anyway. And for a moment, she just stood there, her hands resting on the counter, her cheeks growing warm as the thought settled in. There was something inside her — quiet, new, uncertain — something she couldn't quite name.
But when she glanced at Honoka's innocent smile, and then at the bento box glowing faintly under the morning light, she felt it. Maybe it was the beginning of something small — like the first warmth of spring after a long, lonely winter.
The train rattled softly along the line, its doors sliding open and shut at each stop. Morning light spilled through the windows, painting the carriage in gentle shades of gold.
Honoka sat by the window, swinging her little legs and clutching the new bento box close to her chest — wrapped neatly in yellow cloth this time. Beside her, Yukino kept glancing toward the door every few seconds, pretending to look uninterested, but her fingers fidgeted nervously against her skirt.
Momo leaned over with a grin. "You've checked the door like… ten times now, Yukino."
"I—I have not!" Yukino said quickly, her cheeks tinting pink. "I was just making sure Honoka doesn't drop her bento, that's all."
Honoka blinked innocently. "But I'm holding it tight, Onee-chan."
Ren smirked from where he stood, arms crossed. "Oh yeah? You sure it's not someone else you're waiting for?"
Yukino shot him a glare. "Ren, shut up."
Momo giggled, covering her mouth. "He's right though. You've been acting… strange lately."
"I'm not acting strange! It's just—" she stumbled over her words, fumbling for an excuse. "It's just that Honoka really likes seeing him, and… someone has to make sure she's okay."
Honoka tilted her head, confused. "Ken-niisan?" she asked softly.
Yukino froze. "Y-you don't have to say it out loud, Honoka…"
The little girl smiled knowingly — a small, quiet smile, as if she understood more than Yukino wished she did.
The train slowed, the voice over the speaker announcing the next stop. Yukino's heart jumped before she could stop it. Her eyes darted toward the doors, trying to look casual but failing miserably.
And then — there he was.
Ken stepped in, his dark coat moving slightly with the breeze that followed him. The morning light framed him almost theatrically, though he seemed completely unaware of it. He looked the same as always — calm, distant, but unmistakably present.
Honoka's face lit up like the morning sun. "Ken-niisan!" she whispered, her voice barely containing her excitement.
Yukino quickly looked away, pretending to read a message on her phone — though the screen was off. Her friends exchanged glances, barely holding back their laughter.
Ken's eyes flickered briefly, meeting Honoka's bright gaze. He gave a small, polite nod, acknowledging her. Then, as he moved toward his usual seat, his gaze passed over Yukino for just a second.
That single second was enough to send Yukino's heart into chaos.
She quickly turned to look out the window, biting her lip, but she could feel the faint warmth spreading to her ears.
Momo leaned close again. "Yukino," she whispered teasingly, "you're red again."
"I'm not!"
Honoka giggled quietly beside her sister, clutching her bento even tighter, eyes never leaving Ken.
And as the train began to move again, the two sisters — one small and innocent, the other flustered and quietly glowing — found themselves caught in the same soft rhythm of the morning.
Honoka, unable to hold herself back any longer, hopped down from her seat and began to hurry toward Ken — her small feet pattering against the floor.
"She really adores him, doesn't she?" Momo whispered.
Yukino's lips curved into a small, helpless smile. "Yeah… she does."
The little girl reached Ken's seat, stopped for a second to catch her breath, then climbed onto the seat beside him — carefully, almost ceremoniously, her small hands gripping the edge as she pulled herself up.
Ken turned his head slightly. Their eyes met — the calm gaze of the quiet man and the innocent, unguarded joy of the child.
Honoka sat close, smiling from ear to ear, her legs swinging above the floor. Ken didn't say anything — he simply nodded once, that same gentle, silent acknowledgment that had become uniquely his.
It was enough.
From her seat, Yukino watched — and this time, instead of the faint ache she usually felt, there was something warm swelling in her chest.
Momo leaned closer, teasing quietly, "You sure it's just her who likes him, Yukino?"
Yukino flinched, face warming immediately. "Momo! S-stop saying weird things—!"
Ren, standing nearby, crossed his arms with a half-smirk. "Guess quiet guys really do have some charm after all."
Momo grinned, nudging him. "Jealous much, Ren?"
"Tch. As if," he muttered, looking away — though his tone lacked conviction.
Honoka, sitting beside Ken with her small legs swinging above the floor, turned toward him with that same bright glimmer in her eyes. Without hesitation, she held out her bento box — both hands forward, face lit with shy determination.
"Ken-niisan… for you," she said softly, her voice trembling but full of innocence.
Ken looked at her — then at the small bento box in her hands. He reached out, accepted it gently, and began to untie the pale ribbon. It was almost like he already understood what she wanted.
But as he lifted the lid—
Empty.
Not a single grain of rice.
Honoka froze. "E… eeeh?!"
Her tiny hands trembled as she peered inside. "It's gone! My rice! My omelette!"
Yukino's face drained of color. "Wait— that was mine—!"
Momo snorted. "Y-Yukino, did you just… give Ken an empty box!?"
"I— I was nervous, okay!" Yukino whispered back, her face bright red. "I must've swapped them by mistake!"
Honoka's eyes welled up fast, lips trembling. "Ken-niisan… I really made it…"
Ken looked at her quietly — not disappointed, just still. Then he reached for his bag and pulled out a neatly wrapped bento of his own. Opening it slowly, he turned toward her.
He picked up a piece of tamagoyaki with his chopsticks and held it out.
Honoka blinked, stunned.
Ken's calm voice, barely above a whisper, filled the air. "Here."
She hesitated, then leaned forward and took the bite. The tears in her eyes sparkled — not from sadness now, but relief.
Ken glanced at Yukino and spoke softly.
"Daijōbu," he said. "It happens."
Yukino froze. Her breath hitched. "O-oh… y-yes…" she stammered, gripping her skirt. "R-right, it happens… hah… sometimes…"
Momo grinned. "Yukinooo, you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost — or maybe a prince?"
"M-Momo!" Yukino hissed, flustered. "It's not— I mean, he just—"
Honoka blinked between them innocently. "Ken-niisan talked to Nee-chan…"
Ren, arms crossed, muttered, "So, even Mr. Quiet Guy does talk when he wants to."
The train began to slow down as Ken's stop neared. The familiar chime echoed softly through the carriage. Honoka's fingers still clutched his sleeve, unwilling to let go.
Ken looked at her for a moment, then crouched down, slid his arms around her, and lifted her up. Honoka gasped, her small hands wrapping around his neck.
He turned toward Yukino's seat and carefully placed Honoka down on her lap.
Ken smiled.
It wasn't wide — faint, almost hidden — but warm enough to melt the quiet.
Yukino froze. (He smiled… He actually smiled…)
Momo leaned in with a grin. "Yukino… did he just smile at you?"
Ren muttered, "Tch… must be nice getting that kind of attention."
Yukino turned crimson. "W–what are you even saying! He just… smiled… generally… right?"
Momo giggled. "Mhm, sure. A 'general' smile, directed exactly at you."
Even Honoka, sitting in Yukino's lap now, whispered softly, "Ken-niisan smiled…"
Ken adjusted his bag and gave a polite nod before stepping off the train.
The carriage felt quieter, as if his presence had left behind a soft echo. Yukino's gaze lingered on the platform through the window, her fingers brushing Honoka's sleeve.
Momo teased gently, "Yuki, your mornings are starting to look a lot more interesting."
Yukino smiled faintly, eyes still on the window. "…Maybe."
The train rolled on, carrying the faint warmth of a smile that refused to fade.