Chapter 28: Picking Up the Pieces

The walk home from rehearsal was quiet, but not the heavy, suffocating silence of the past few days. Riku and Aiko moved side by side, their steps syncing without effort, the evening air cool against their flushed faces. Her confession—*"Maybe I liked you more than I should"*—and his shaky admission—*"It wasn't all fake for me either"*—hung between them, no longer a bomb waiting to explode but a fragile thread they weren't sure how to weave. Neither spoke, but her shoulder brushed his once, and he didn't pull away.

Inside, the house was alive with normalcy—his mom humming over a pot of miso soup, his dad flipping through a car magazine at the table. "You're late," Hana called, glancing up with a smile. "Rehearsal run long?"

"Yeah," Riku mumbled, kicking off his shoes. "Something like that."

Aiko slipped past him, her bag slung over one shoulder. "I'm showering," she said, her voice steadier than he'd expected, and disappeared upstairs. He watched her go, the memory of her tear-streaked face in the prop room flashing through his mind.

Dinner was a strained attempt at routine. Riku shoveled soup into his mouth, avoiding his parents' chatter about neighborhood gossip. Aiko sat across from him, her damp hair clinging to her neck, her oversized sleep shirt swapped for a tank top and shorts that showed off her legs. He kept his eyes on his bowl, but every clink of her spoon felt like a spotlight.

"Riku, you're quiet tonight," his dad grunted, peering over his magazine. "Everything okay?"

"Fine," he said, too fast. Aiko's foot nudged his under the table—a light tap, not teasing—and he jolted, nearly spilling his soup.

Hana laughed. "You two are jumpy. What's going on?"

"Nothing!" they said in unison, then glared at each other, which only made her laugh harder.

"Kids," she said, shaking her head. "Always so dramatic."

Riku excused himself early, retreating to the living room with a manga he didn't read. Aiko followed after dishes, flopping onto the couch beside him, close enough that her bare arm brushed his. "We survived that," she said, her tone light but her eyes wary.

"Barely," he muttered, flipping a page he hadn't looked at. "Mom's onto us."

"She's not," Aiko said, stretching with a yawn that lifted her tank top, flashing a strip of her stomach. Riku's gaze darted there, then away, his face heating. "She just likes teasing."

He coughed, shifting to put space between them. "We need to talk. For real."

Her yawn froze, her arms dropping. "Now?"

"Yeah," he said, setting the manga down. "We can't keep… I don't know, stumbling around this. What are we doing, Aiko?"

She tucked her legs under her, turning to face him. "You tell me, knight. You're the one who said it wasn't all fake."

"And you said you liked me," he shot back, his voice low. "So what now? Are we just cousins again? Friends? Something else?"

Her smirk faded, her fingers twisting in her lap. "I don't know," she admitted, quieter than he'd ever heard her. "I didn't plan this. I just… started feeling it, and then it slipped out."

He rubbed his neck, his heart thudding. "Me too. I mean—not the slipping-out part. The feeling part. Maybe."

"Maybe?" She arched a brow, a hint of her old spark returning. "Wow, romantic."

"Shut up," he said, but a smile tugged at his lips. "I'm trying here. It's weird, okay? You're my cousin."

"Yeah," she said, her voice softening. "It's weird for me too. But… I don't hate it."

The air shifted, heavy with unspoken possibilities. He met her gaze—those hazel eyes that used to tease him mercilessly—and saw something raw, vulnerable. "So what do we do?" he asked.

She shrugged, leaning back. "Figure it out slow? No more fake stuff—just… us."

"Us," he echoed, testing the word. It felt strange, but not wrong.

Before he could say more, his mom peeked in. "Bedtime, you two! School tomorrow!"

Aiko hopped up, stretching again—her shorts riding up this time, flashing more thigh—and Riku's brain stalled, his face flaming. "Night, knight," she said, smirking as she sauntered off.

"Night," he mumbled, sinking into the couch, his pulse racing. Slow sounded good. Slow sounded terrifying.

---

Yamato High was a different beast the next day. The rumors had shifted—less *"Are they dating?"* and more *"What's wrong with them?"*—but the stares lingered. Riku walked in alone, Aiko ahead after insisting on separate entrances "to throw them off." It didn't work. Haruka met him at the lockers, her expression a mix of resolve and hurt.

"Riku," she said, clutching her bag. "I'm sorry about yesterday. I overreacted."

"No, you didn't," he said, guilt gnawing at him. "I should've been clearer. It's my fault."

She shook her head. "It's fine. I just… needed to hear it wasn't me. You and Aiko—it's real now, huh?"

He hesitated. "Maybe. We're… figuring it out."

Her smile was small, pained. "Okay. I'll back off. But I'm still your friend, right?"

"Always," he said, and she nodded, walking off with a lighter step. Relief hit him, tinged with sadness.

Mika was next, catching him in the library during a free period. She slid a bookmark across the table—a simple thing, blue with a tiny star sketched on it. "For you," she said, her voice soft. "I heard… stuff. I just wanted to say I'm happy for you. If you're happy."

"Thanks," he said, taking it, his throat tight. "I'm still figuring it out, but… yeah."

She smiled, shy and genuine, then buried herself in a book, leaving him with the bookmark and a quiet ache.

Yuna ambushed him at lunch, plopping onto the bench beside him with a grin. "So, the truth's out, huh? No more fake kisses?"

"Knock it off," he muttered, shoving his bento away. "It's not funny."

"It's hilarious," she said, leaning close enough that her hair brushed his shoulder. "You and Aiko, fumbling into love? Peak comedy."

"We're not—" He stopped, unsure what they were. "Just leave it alone."

"Fine," she said, standing with a wink. "But I'm rooting for you, cutie." She sauntered off, leaving him flustered and annoyed.

Aiko joined him then, her bento in hand, her smirk softer than usual. "Heard you've been busy," she said, sitting closer than necessary, her knee bumping his.

"Yeah," he said, glancing at her. "Haruka's okay. Mika too. Yuna's a pain."

"Always is," she said, popping a rice ball into her mouth. "So… we good?"

He met her eyes, that fragile thread between them tightening. "Yeah. We're good."

She smiled—small, real—and nudged his shoulder. "Cool."

---

That night, they lingered in the hallway after his parents went to bed. Aiko leaned against her doorframe, her pajamas loose, her hair falling over one eye. "Day one of 'us,' huh?" she said, smirking.

"Guess so," he said, hands in his pockets. "No disasters yet."

"Give it time," she teased, stepping closer. Her shirt slipped off her shoulder, and she didn't fix it, her gaze locking on his. "Night, Riku."

"Night," he said, his voice catching as she brushed past him, her arm grazing his chest. She paused, then leaned up, pressing a quick, soft kiss to his cheek—real this time, no act.

She pulled back, smirking at his stunned face. "Don't overthink it, knight." Then she slipped into her room, leaving him red-faced and reeling in the dark.