Evening settled quietly over the apartment — the kind of calm where even the city outside seemed to hush for a while. The soft hum of cicadas echoed faintly through the open window, carrying the scent of cooling rain.
Honoka sat at the small table, still in her little home dress, her hands wrapped tightly around Panda-san. Her dinner was untouched, the spoon resting beside her bowl.
"Onee-chan," she said softly, voice fragile, almost breaking. "I want to talk to Ken-ni-san."
Yukino, sitting across from her, looked up from the papers she wasn't really reading. Her heart sank at the sight of Honoka's trembling eyes.
"Honoka…" she began gently. "Ken-san said he'll be back on Thursday, remember?"
"But I just want to say good night…" Honoka whispered. "What if he's lonely where he is?"
Yukino's chest tightened at the innocence in her tone. She looked at her sister's small, hopeful face — the same one that had been bright with joy just days ago.
"I know, sweetheart," she said softly. "But maybe he's resting right now. He needs time to get better, remember?"
Honoka looked down at Panda-san, tracing its tiny paw with her finger.
"But what if he's hurt again? What if he doesn't come back this time?"
Yukino froze. For a moment, her throat refused to move.
(That same fear… it had been sitting in her own chest all day.)
Honoka tugged at her sleeve, eyes shimmering. "Can we call him, please?"
Yukino hesitated — torn between reason and longing. Her phone lay beside the teacup, almost glowing under the lamplight. She could almost hear his calm voice in her mind, the way he said 'Daijōbu… it happens.'
Her hand trembled as she reached for the phone.
"Alright," she whispered, giving Honoka a small smile. "Just one call, okay?"
Honoka nodded quickly, her face brightening with fragile hope.
Yukino typed in his number, holding her breath.
Beep…
Beep…
Then the tone stopped — replaced by the words that made her heart sink.
"Service Out of Reach."
The air in the room turned heavy.
Honoka's face went pale, her little lips quivering. "He's gone again…" she whispered, voice cracking. "He's gone again… maybe he's hurt again…"
"Honoka, no," Yukino said quickly, scooting closer and pulling her sister into her arms. "Don't say that. He didn't leave. Maybe he's just somewhere far — a place with no signal. He's not gone."
Honoka buried her face against her shoulder, muffled sobs escaping. "Then why does it feel like he's far away again?"
Yukino stroked her back gently, blinking away her own tears. "Because you miss him," she said softly. "And missing someone you care about always feels a little bit like losing them."
Honoka sniffled. "What if he's hurt again, Onee-chan?"
Yukino paused, her voice trembling as she whispered, "Then… we'll wait for him. And when he comes back, we'll make him feel better, just like he did for us. Right?"
Honoka looked up through tearful eyes. "Promise?"
Yukino smiled faintly, brushing a tear from her sister's cheek. "Promise."
Honoka finally rested her head against Yukino's shoulder, still holding Panda-san close. The soft sound of her sniffles faded slowly into the quiet night.
But Yukino stayed awake long after that — her hand resting on Honoka's hair, her eyes lost in thought.
The phone lay beside her, screen dark and silent.
And in her heart, one quiet wish echoed louder than any city noise outside —
"You are not hurt again are you, Ken-san."
"I'm Here for You"
Fast Forward to Wednesday evening sank into their small apartment like a soft sigh. The air was heavy with the hum of cicadas outside, the warm glow of the lamp spilling over scattered papers and untouched tea.
Yukino sat at her small desk, pen in hand, eyes tracing the same line of text again and again. Her mind wasn't on her work — it hadn't been for days.
Her phone lay beside her notebook, screen dim but alive with one haunting message:
"Service out of reach."
Every time she tried, it was the same. Every single time.
Her fingers hovered near it again, hesitation written in every tremor of her hand. Her heart wanted to hear his voice — even just once — but logic whispered she was being unreasonable. Maybe he needed time. Maybe he was still healing.
Still… the silence was unbearable.
A small sound broke her thoughts. The soft padding of little feet.
"Onee-chan…"
Honoka stood at the edge of the light, Panda-san dangling from her tiny hand. Her cheeks were pale, her eyes slightly red, but her lips carried a small, brave smile — one too heavy for someone her age.
"Honoka," Yukino said softly, sitting up. "You're still awake?"
The little girl nodded, clutching Panda-san tighter. "I couldn't sleep." She hesitated, then added quietly, "You're sad… aren't you?"
Yukino blinked fast, trying to smile. "No, I'm just… thinking, that's all."
Honoka walked closer, stopping right beside her chair. "It's okay, Onee-chan," she said, voice trembling slightly but full of warmth. "Oni-san will be back tomorrow."
Yukino's breath caught.
Honoka's tiny hand reached for hers, squeezing it. "Don't be sad, okay? I'm here for you."
That single line broke something inside her — gently, but completely.
She turned in her chair and pulled Honoka into her arms. "Oh, Honoka…" she whispered, her voice trembling.
The little girl hugged her back as tightly as her small arms could manage. "You always cry for me," Honoka murmured softly, "so now I'll be strong for you."
Yukino's tears finally fell — silent at first, then freely. She pressed her face into Honoka's hair, her body shaking with quiet sobs.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "You shouldn't have to be the strong one."
Honoka shook her head, her small fingers curling around Yukino's sweater. "But… I want to be. Because if I cry too, then who will make you smile?"
Yukino let out a choked laugh between her tears. "You sound like a grown-up, you know that?"
Honoka giggled weakly, wiping Yukino's cheek with her sleeve. "Then you can be the baby tonight."
Yukino laughed again — soft, watery — pulling her closer. "Deal."
They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in the quiet warmth of each other's arms, the city lights flickering faintly through the window.
The phone on the desk remained silent, the screen still dark — but for the first time in days, the emptiness didn't feel so lonely.
Because in that moment, Yukino realized something quietly beautiful —
Ken wasn't the only one who made her feel whole.
Her little sister — her light — had been doing that all along.