Chapter 6

The school loomed ahead, its windows dark and vacant. Kenji swung the car into the lot, tires screeching as he killed the engine in a single sharp motion. The sudden silence was deafening, broken only by the soft ticking of the cooling engine.

Reika was out of the car before it fully stopped, her heels clicking against the pavement. She scanned the building with sharp, calculating eyes, her fingers curling tight around her coat. The sharp wind whipped her perfectly styled hair, but she barely noticed.

Kenji pocketed the keys, his steps brisk but composed as he joined her. "We'll check his classroom first," he said evenly, but his voice was taut, a string pulled tight.

The front doors were locked. Reika's knuckles rapped sharply against the glass. The sound echoed through the empty corridor beyond.

A flicker of movement—

The janitor, a stout man with a mop in one hand and a scowl plastered across his face, appeared from the hallway. His eyes narrowed at the sight of them, his annoyance already palpable.

With agonizing slowness, he approached and cracked the door open. "We're closed," he said flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You'll have to come back tomorrow."

Reika's lips pressed into a thin line. "We're not here for a tour," she said crisply. "We're looking for our son. He hasn't come home."

The janitor's gaze flicked between them, unimpressed. "No kids here. I'm locking up for the night."

Kenji stepped forward, his expression tight but polite. "Please. Just let us check."

The janitor's grip on the door didn't loosen. "Look, I've had a long day. You can file a report or call the police if he's missing, but you're not—"

"We don't have time for that," Reika cut in, her voice a razor-edged whisper. For a heartbeat, the façade cracked. Her breath was shallow, her chest tight, and her eyes—cold and sharp—burned with barely concealed panic. "If he's in there, and something has happened—"

Kenji placed a steadying hand on her arm, his voice softer but firm. "Sir. Our son has a… tendency to panic. He's not good with directions, and if he's trapped or hiding somewhere inside—"

The janitor squinted at them, clearly weighing his options. Then he sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Five minutes. You check quickly, and you're out."

The door creaked open.

Reika didn't wait for a second invitation. She swept past him with Kenji close behind, her heels clicking a sharp, staccato rhythm against the polished floors.

The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them in the dim, echoing corridor. The janitor's muttered grumbles faded as he returned to his closet, leaving them alone with the faint hum of the emergency lights.

Reika shot Kenji a sharp glance. "Third floor first. He likes the art room."

Kenji gave a curt nod. "We split. You take west. I'll take the east."

They moved instantly, soundless and swift, years of ingrained reflex kicking in. Their coats swayed behind them, their steps soft as shadows on the polished floors.

Reika pressed herself to the wall, her hand grazing the doorframe of each classroom before slipping inside. Desks sat eerily still in the faint light, chairs tucked in like soldiers at attention. She scanned with hawk-like precision—under desks, behind cabinets, even the supply closets. Empty.

Kenji was a phantom on the opposite side, his movements precise, every door eased open and shut without a sound. His eyes flicked to every possible hiding spot—stage curtains in the auditorium, the broom closet by the science lab—nothing.

They met at the stairwell without a word. Just a single shared glance—Next floor.

Reika slipped through the library doors, her heels off and in hand. She glided between towering shelves, her sharp gaze sweeping every aisle, her ears straining for the tiniest sound. She paused by the librarian's desk—no sign-in, no lights left on. She felt her pulse in her throat.

Across the hall, Kenji checked the labs, his eyes flicking from beakers to burners, his breathing steady but tight. When he hit the biology room, he paused. The skeleton model by the window tilted, casting a long, grotesque shadow. He narrowed his eyes.

Click.

A chair scraped.

Kenji spun behind the door in an instant, hand poised to strike—only to be met with the unimpressed stare of a stray cat slinking between the desks. It meowed.

Kenji exhaled sharply, lowering his guard.

They regrouped at the entrance, flushed and breathing hard, their clothes askew. Reika's usually pristine hair clung to her forehead, and Kenji's tie had been yanked loose somewhere along the way. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence pressing heavy between them.

Reika's voice broke first, tight and raw. "We checked every floor. He's not here."

Kenji's hands curled into fists. "No." His voice was low, dangerous. "We missed something."

He thought hard, retracing every step. Then it clicked. "His locker. If he's really not here, it'll be empty."

Reika didn't hesitate. She shoved past him, breaking into a sprint before stopping abruptly. "Wait. How do we even find his locker?"

Kenji adjusted his glasses. "Second floor, near the library."

"What are you waiting for, then? Lead the way!"

He didn't bother telling Reika to calm down. At this point, she looked like she'd kill him if he so much as breathed wrong.

They reached the locker, and as Reika caught her breath, she realized something. Even if they found it, they couldn't open it.

That thought lasted exactly two seconds before Kenji typed in a passcode and pulled the door open.

Reika's head snapped toward him. "How did you—"

"I refill his anxiety meds sometimes," Kenji said, sifting through the contents. "He's always too embarrassed to ask."

"That doesn't explain how you know his password."

Kenji hesitated. "…I asked him."

"And he just told you?"

"Yeah."

Reika narrowed her eyes but let it go, scanning the locker's contents. Books. Hoodie. Pencil case. Everything looked untouched.

Except—

"His gym clothes." She pointed at the empty space. "They're missing."

Kenji frowned. "And you're sure he even brought them—"

"It's Wednesday," she cut in. "He has gym on Wednesdays. And do you trust him to pack his own bag? I put his things in every night."

Kenji nodded, then they both turned sharply toward the gymnasium.

As soon as they reached the doors. Reika froze.vA sound. Faint. Muffled. Coming from—

Kenji's head snapped toward the gym doors. His voice was barely above a whisper. "There."

The moment they stepped into the gym, the silence hit them—heavy, thick, almost suffocating. The basketball court lay in shadow, the lines on the floor faded in the low light, but it was the door to the storage room that caught their attention. Slightly ajar.

Reika's eyes narrowed. "He's in there." Her voice was calm, but the tightness in her throat betrayed her. She knew it was him.

Kenji, already moving, didn't need confirmation. He approached the door with measured steps, his body coiled, ready to spring into action at the slightest movement. He reached out and eased the door open, just wide enough for them to slip through.

Inside, the gym storage room was cluttered with old equipment, gym bags, and half-forgotten trophies. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling, flickering as it cast weak shadows across the floor. And then—

There he was.

Arato.

Sitting on the floor, curled into himself, his back pressed against the cold metal shelving. His knees were drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around them. His breathing was erratic—sharp gasps followed by choked sobs. His face, pale and damp, was hidden behind his disheveled hair, but his eyes... those eyes flickered in the dim light, full of panic, fear, and the distant echo of a broken mind.

Kenji froze, his heart hammering. Reika's usual calmness faltered for just a split second before she took the first step forward.

Arato's head snapped up at the sound of the footsteps. His pupils dilated in terror, and for a moment, it seemed like he might bolt. But then he saw them—his parents. His eyes locked onto them, wide, lost, and filled with a desperation that made Reika's stomach twist.

"Arato..." Kenji's voice was quiet, like speaking too loudly would shatter him. "How long have you been here?"

But Arato didn't move. His hands trembled as he clutched his knees even tighter, his whole body shaking.

Reika's gaze softened. She crouched down slowly, lowering herself to his level, her presence a quiet force. "Arato." Her voice was gentle, unlike anything he had ever heard from her. "It's okay. Just breathe."

Arato's breath hitched, and a quiet sob escaped his throat. His body wracked with another wave of panic, and for a second, Reika feared he would fall apart completely. But then, ever so slowly, he unfurled from his defensive position, his hands still twitching with anxiety.

He finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "The walls. They were going to kill me."

Kenji's heart ached. He couldn't even begin to imagine what his son had been going through. He stepped closer, his voice thick with emotion. "We're here, Arato. They can't do anything to you." It was ridiculous, but if that was what it took for him to calm down … 

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't know what to do."

Reika's hand finally rested on his, warm and steady. "It's okay. You don't have to know. We'll figure it out together."

Kenji stepped beside her, offering his presence without words, just a steady hand on Arato's shoulder. "Want to go home, Arato? Your mother cooked dumplings today. 

By the time they pulled into the driveway, the house was quiet—too quiet. That was already suspicious. Kenji killed the engine, exchanging a glance with Reika, who exhaled through her nose in exhaustion. Arato, curled up in the back seat, had his head resting against the window, his breathing even but his fingers still twitching slightly.

Then, as soon as Kenji stepped out of the car—

Click.

The unmistakable sound of metal scraping against a lock.

Reika turned her head sharply, her gaze landing on a figure crouched beside a sleek black sports car, his silhouette faint under the porch light. Rei.

The idiot had one knee on the ground, hunched over the driver's side door, a bobby pin and a screwdriver in his hands. Beside him, Nagi leaned casually against the hood, arms crossed, watching like this was some late-night heist.

"Rei Kurozawa."

Reika's voice rang across the driveway like a gunshot.

Rei jolted, fumbling with the lockpick. Nagi, ever the survivor, immediately abandoned ship and backed away, whistling innocently.

"Ah—this isn't—" Rei stammered, standing abruptly, hands behind his back as if that would erase the evidence. "This is, uh… not what it looks like?"

Kenji pinched the bridge of his nose. "It looks like you're trying to steal your own car."

"Okay, maybe it is what it looks like," Rei admitted, shifting on his feet. "But hear me out—"

Reika had already started marching toward him.

Rei barely had time to process his impending doom before his mother snatched the screwdriver from his grip and smacked him over the head with it.

"Ow! What the hell?!"

"You absolute moron," Reika hissed, smacking him again for good measure. "You were going to break the lock?! On your own car?! And then what? You'd still need the keys to turn it on, genius!"

Rei opened his mouth, then closed it, realizing he had no actual plan beyond 'get inside car.'

Nagi, now safely observing from a distance, snorted. "Wow. Your brain really is just for decoration."

"Shut up, you were watching—"

Reika turned on Nagi next. "And you! You were encouraging him?!"

Nagi smirked. "I just wanted to see how far he'd get before getting caught."

Reika swiped a hand through her hair, exhaling furiously. "You two are—I don't even have the energy for this right now!"

Kenji, meanwhile, had retrieved Arato from the car, gently guiding him toward the house. "Come on, let's just go inside."

Reika shot one last glare at Rei before following.

The dinner was cold.

Reika's lips pressed into a thin line as she stared at the untouched plates on the table. The dumplings, once steaming and fragrant, now sat limp and sad. The miso soup had cooled, the rice stiffened at the edges.

She inhaled slowly, exhaled even slower.

Rei, ever the tactless idiot, peered over her shoulder. "Damn. That's depressing."

Reika turned to him, fist clenched.

Kenji, recognizing the impending murder, quickly stepped in. "We can reheat it. No big deal." He set Arato down at the table before heading to the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves like he was preparing for battle.

Arato sat quietly, watching the exchange with dull, tired eyes. Reika could still see the remnants of fear in his face, the stiffness in his posture. His face was blank, but the way his fingers twitched against his pant leg didn't go unnoticed.

Rei and Nagi exchanged a glance.

"…So," Rei started, awkwardly picking at the food with his chopsticks. "Rough night?"

No response. Rei didn't expect one. He kept talking anyway. "You eat yet? You look like you haven't eaten."

Silence. Nagi leaned against the table, staring at Arato. "You can at least nod," he said. "Or, I don't know, blink?"

Arato didn't even look at him. Rei exhaled sharply through his nose, shifting in his seat. They were used to this. Arato had always been… like this. Quiet and withdrawn.

Didn't make it easier to watch. Kenji returned, setting a warm bowl of soup in front of him. "Eat," he said, like it was a simple command.

Arato picked up his chopsticks and started eating, slow and mechanical, like he was just going through the motions.

Rei tapped his own chopsticks against his plate. "…You're okay, right?"

Arato pushed his chair back, the scrape of wood against tile sharp in the quiet room. Without another word, he stood and left, his movements stiff. "Wait! You haven't even eaten –" Rei attempted, but he wasn't even listening.

They watched him go. Rei exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "…Shit."

Nagi was still staring after him. "Yeah." 

The air in the room felt heavier after Arato left, like a weight pressing down on the remaining three at the table.

Reika sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Rei."

Rei braced himself. "What?"

"You couldn't have just left him alone?"

Rei's brows furrowed. "I was trying to talk to him!"

Kenji set his chopsticks down with a quiet clink. "You know he doesn't respond well to that."

Rei scoffed, shoving his plate away. "So what? I'm supposed to just pretend everything's fine? He looked miserable!"

Reika's voice was sharp. "And pushing him with questions helps how?"

Rei's jaw clenched. "Oh, right. Because everything is always my fault, isn't it?" He let out a bitter laugh, leaning back in his chair. "What, was I supposed to read his mind? Guess exactly what to say? Sorry, I forgot I'm the designated screw-up in this family."

Kenji exhaled, rubbing his temples. "That's not what we're saying."

Rei shoved his chair back and stood up. "No, it is. It always is." He glanced at Nagi, who was still silent, eyes fixed on his plate like he wasn't even in the room. That just pissed him off more. "And you—what, no smartass comment this time?"

Nagi didn't respond.

Rei scoffed. "Of course." He turned, storming off after Arato. "Whatever."

The room fell into silence again, but this time, it wasn't just heavy.

It was suffocating.

Reika sighed, rubbing her temples. Arato might not have said a word, but she knew he was still shaken. She quietly stood, gathering a small plate of food before heading down the hall.

Kenji watched her go, then turned to where Rei had disappeared. His shoulders sagged slightly. "I'll talk to him."

Nagi didn't respond, just reached for a book on the shelf and flipped it open, settling deeper into his chair like he was distancing himself from all of it.

Kenji knocked lightly on Rei's door before pushing it open. "Rei—"

He stopped.

Rei was curled up in bed, still in his clothes, one arm thrown over his eyes. His breathing was deep, steady. Asleep.

Kenji sighed, stepping closer. For all his loud-mouthed arrogance, Rei always crashed the hardest. Kenji pulled the blanket over him and turned off the light. "Idiot," he muttered, voice softer than he meant.

Closing the door quietly behind him, he made his way back to the dining room.Nagi didn't look up from his book. He just flipped another page.

"Nagi.",Nagi turned a page, deliberately ignoring him.

Kenji frowned. "It's late."

"I'm reading."

"You can read in bed." Nagi didn't respond, but his grip on the book tightened slightly. Kenji sighed, then wordlessly reached down and plucked the book right out of his hands.

"Hey—!"

Before Nagi could argue, Kenji hauled him up with zero effort, easily tucking him under his arm like a stray cat.

"Put me down!" Nagi squirmed, but it was half-hearted, more out of habit than actual protest. Kenji carried him down the hall, ignoring his weak attempts to elbow him in the ribs. When they reached Nagi's room, he set him down on the bed with all the care of someone handling a fragile package—despite Nagi's grumbling.

He grabbed the blanket and draped it over him. "Sleep."

Nagi huffed but didn't resist when Kenji tucked the covers in, securing him like he might run off otherwise.

"You didn't do anything wrong tonight," Kenji murmured, smoothing a hand over his hair. Nagi stiffened slightly at the touch but didn't pull away.

Kenji stood, ruffling his head one last time. "Get some rest, kid."

Nagi didn't respond, but as Kenji left, he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see his youngest quietly shift deeper under the blankets, pulling them up to his chin.

Reika stood at Arato's door, balancing a tray of reheated food in one hand. She knocked once. No answer. With a sigh, she let herself in.

Arato was curled up on his bed, his back to the room and a blanket bunched around him. He hadn't even bothered to turn off the dim bedside lamp. "Arato." No response.

Reika set the tray down on his desk and walked over, kneeling beside the bed. He was still in the gym clothes, his body half-hidden beneath the covers, his hair a mess against the pillow.

She reached out, brushing his bangs aside. "I brought food. You need to eat."Arato didn't even blink.

Reika exhaled sharply through her nose, glancing around the room for something—anything—that might pull him out of this mood.Her gaze landed on his wall.

Pictures. Neatly arranged, carefully placed. Not of people he knew—Arato barely kept family photos—but of pop idols. Glossy magazine cutouts, official merch postcards, even a few limited-edition posters.

One particular picture caught her eye. A girl in a pastel pink outfit, clutching a large, round teddy bear in her arms. A soft, fluffy thing, oversized and ridiculous. Arato had always liked that sort of thing, although she had always seen it as stupid and unrefined behaviour.

Reika tilted her head, glancing back at him. He was still turned away, pretending to sleep—or at least trying to.

A thought crossed her mind.

"You see that teddy bear?" she asked, nodding toward the photo. Arato didn't move.

Reika continued, casually, "I'll find it. Buy it for you." The blanket rustled slightly. A reaction. She smirked. "But only if you eat."

Arato hesitated. Then, without a word, he slowly sat up. His hair was still a mess, and his expression was blank as ever, but his eyes flickered toward the tray.

Reika picked it up and held it out. "Deal?" Arato grabbed the chopsticks immediately.

She watched as he ate with unexpected enthusiasm, each bite faster than the last. He barely paused to breathe, his focus entirely on the food now.

Reika leaned back on her heels, arms crossed. "Unbelievable." She laughed. He was still impossible, but at least he was eating.

By the time Reika returned to the dining room, Kenji had already reheated her plate.

She sat down across from him, her movements slow, drained. Neither of them spoke for a moment. Just the sound of chopsticks against ceramic, the occasional clink of a spoon in the miso soup.

The dumplings were still cold in the center.

Reika chewed mechanically, swallowing without really tasting anything. Across from her, Kenji poked at his rice, eyes slightly unfocused, his shoulders heavy.

"This is miserable," she muttered.

Kenji hummed in agreement. "Completely."

They continued eating.

Reika sighed, rubbing her temples. "Arato only ate because I bribed him with an overpriced teddy bear."

Kenji barely blinked. "Good. Bribery works."

"I think I've failed as a mother."

Kenji took another bite. "Remember I had the bright idea to give Rei credit cards? I think you're doing just fine."

Reika stared at him. "That doesn't make me feel better, Kenji."

Kenji nodded solemnly. "I know."

Reika exhaled and leaned back in her chair. "I just…" She gestured vaguely, struggling to put it into words. "This family is exhausting."

Kenji didn't hesitate. "Absolutely."

They lapsed into silence again. From somewhere upstairs, there was a loud thump. Then Rei's distant, muffled cursing. Probably him falling out of bed. Reika closed her eyes. "I'm not checking on him."

Kenji scooped up another spoonful of rice. "If he's not dead, he can figure it out himself." Another silence.

"…I apologize for this afternoon."

Kenji swallowed. "I as well. I was being inconsiderate. Especially since it was my father who…" 

Reika didn't let him finish. Her chopsticks clattered against her plate as she reached for her glass, taking a slow sip before speaking.

"We're eating," she said, voice even. "I don't want to talk about him while we're eating." Kenji hesitated, then nodded. "Alright."

Then, without looking at him, Reika set down her glass and spoke again—calm, deliberate. "Maybe we should do something else instead."

Kenji blinked. "Something else?"

She finally turned to him, tilting her head just slightly. Her expression was unreadable. "Yes. Something to get our minds off things."

Kenji studied her for a moment. Then— His ears went pink. Reika raised a brow. "What?"

Kenji cleared his throat, looking away. "Nothing."

Reika smirked. "That's not nothing."

Kenji busied himself with his rice, as if that would hide his reaction. "You just caught me off guard."

Reika exhaled, leaning her elbow against the table, chin resting against her palm. "We should at least try to relax, Kenji."

Kenji's shoulders eased just slightly. He nodded. "You're right."

Reika hummed, taking another slow sip of water. Then, setting the glass down, she glanced toward him again. "We should go to bed early."

Kenji froze mid-bite. Reika's smirk widened. Kenji coughed. Loudly. "I—right, of course, we should." He straightened his posture, suddenly hyper-focused on his plate.

Reika took one last look at him—his pink ears, his suddenly stiff demeanour—before picking up her chopsticks again.

Finally, something amusing to end the night.