The clock ticked softly in the quiet apartment.
Outside, Tokyo's streets gleamed under a curtain of drizzle, the faint hum of distant cars fading into the rhythm of midnight.
Yukino sat curled up on the chair beside the bed, knees drawn close to her chest. Her dark hair fell over her face in loose strands, brushing against the sleeve of her pale sweater. The faint glow from the desk lamp cast a golden ring around her, while everything else seemed swallowed by silence.
On the bed, Honoka was fast asleep — her tiny hands clutching her stuffed rabbit, her breathing soft and even.
Her little face, peaceful again, looked as if the pain of the last few days had been washed away.
But for Yukino… it was only now catching up.
Her mind replayed the morning again and again — the moment Ken stepped into the train, covered in bandages, the trembling sound of Honoka's cries, the quiet strength in his eyes as he held her. And then… how he didn't leave at his usual stop. He stayed. All the way until the girls had to get off. He watched them — calm, wounded, but still smiling.
"Why didn't he go back?" Yukino whispered under her breath, resting her chin on her knees. "Was he… too hurt to move? Or… did he just want to stay near us?"
Her voice trembled slightly.
She pressed her hands together, feeling that ache in her chest again — that same strange pull she couldn't understand.
Something inside her was changing. Slowly, quietly… like the first bloom after a long winter.
After a long pause, she stood up, brushing her hair aside, and reached for her bag to put away Honoka's drawing from earlier.
As she opened it, a small folded piece of paper slipped out and fluttered to the floor.
"…Hmm?"
She blinked, bending down to pick it up.
The paper was neatly folded, the handwriting clean and deliberate — unmistakably his.
"Sorry for worrying you two.
If you ever need me — contact me.
— Ken"
Yukino froze.
For a moment, she just stood there, staring at the note as if it might vanish.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Her heart — already fragile — began to race uncontrollably.
"K… Ken-san's number?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "He actually… left it for me?"
Her face turned crimson in an instant. She pressed the note to her chest, feeling the faint warmth of her own heartbeat against it.
It felt like the world had narrowed to just this — the sound of her pulse, the glow of the lamp, and the small piece of paper that suddenly meant everything.
She sat down again, trembling slightly, staring at her phone on the desk. Her fingers hovered above the screen.
"Should I… text him?" she murmured.
Her mind spun in circles.
"What if he's asleep… or tired? What if I bother him? But… what if he's still hurt… what if he's not okay?"
She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly.
And then — with a courage that even she didn't know she had — she typed:
"Ken-san… this is Yukino.
Are you feeling better now? I was really worried…"
Her thumb hesitated above the send button for almost half a minute.
Then — she pressed it.
The message ticked away into the digital void.
She sat there, heart pounding so loudly it almost hurt.
Seconds stretched.
Minutes passed.
The rain outside grew softer, like it was holding its breath too.
Then — her phone vibrated once.
A reply.
From him.
"Thank you, Yukino-san.
I'm resting now.
Tomorrow is Sunday, so please tell Honoka-chan not to worry.
I'll come again on Monday.
And… it's not just her I'm coming back for.
You've both been there for me — more than you realize."
The moment her eyes reached the last line, her breath caught.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she reread it again and again, as if afraid the words might disappear if she blinked.
A faint, uncontrollable warmth spread across her cheeks.
"He's… coming back," she whispered, almost afraid to say it aloud.
The quiet room seemed to pulse with life again — the rain outside turning gentler, softer, as if echoing her heartbeat.
She pressed her phone close to her chest, her eyes glistening under the dim lamplight.
And for the first time in days, a small, genuine smile returned to her face — the kind that carried relief, tenderness, and something deeper she dared not name.
Outside, the last drops of rain faded into silence.
Inside, Yukino's heart whispered quietly into the stillness —
"Ken-san… thank you for not disappearing."
The night lingered on, warm and calm, carrying the promise of a Monday morning —
and the quiet beginning of something that neither of them could yet understand, but both already felt.