B - Home

The front door creaks open as I step into the house.

"I'm home," I call, kicking off my shoes.

"Onee-chan!" a voice squeals from the hallway.

Before I can even close the door, my little sister barrels into me at full speed, wrapping her tiny arms around my waist.

Yuzu is five years old—a whirlwind of boundless energy and curiosity, forever getting into trouble and making us laugh.

She's still wearing her kindergarten smock, her hair sticking up in odd places.

"Whoa!" I laugh, catching her mid-spin. "You missed me that much?"

"You were gone forever!" she insists.

"I was at work for three hours, Yuzu-chan."

She pouts, and I poke her cheek. "Well, I'm home now. Where's Mom?"

"Kitchen! She said you have to cut the carrots!"

"Did she now?" I lift her up and spin her once before setting her down. "Okay. You win."

I walk into the kitchen to find my mom already halfway through prepping dinner.

Mom—always the heart of our home—juggles her job and the family with a quiet strength.

She's humming to herself as she chops vegetables, her apron dusted with flour.

"Sora, wash your hands and help me slice these," she says without looking.

"Gotcha."

I roll up my sleeves, wash up, and grab a cutting board. We fall into a rhythm—chop, rinse, stir, taste. It's oddly peaceful.

The kind of peace that you don't notice until it's gone.

"Work okay?" she asks casually, passing me a bowl.

"Mm. The usual," I reply.

"Hayato-kun still teasing you?"

"Nonstop. You'd think he'd get tired of it."

"He likes you," she says with a smile.

I freeze for half a second, then laugh it off.

"He likes teasing everyone."

"Mm-hm."

Before I can protest further, the front door opens again.

"I'm home," comes a tired voice.

"Papa!" Yuzu cries, sprinting out of the kitchen.

My dad walks in a moment later with a tired smile and loose tie. He lifts Yuzu into his arms, staggering slightly for effect.

Dad works long hours at the office but never misses family dinners—a quiet pillar who's tougher than he looks, with a surprising dry sense of humor.

"Whoa, you got heavier again. What are they feeding you at school?"

"Cookies!" she shouts proudly.

He chuckles.

"That explains it."

Dinner is served soon after. Curry rice, miso soup, pickled veggies. A simple meal, but the scent alone makes my stomach rumble.

We sit at the table together—all four of us. It's a small table, slightly chipped on one leg, and the chairs creak when we shift. But it's ours.

Dinner is full of the usual chatter.

"Dad, did you really eat five bowls of ramen when you were in college?"

"Six, actually."

"Liar!"

"Sora, can you believe this? Your mom thinks I'm exaggerating."

"Only slightly."

Laughter rings out. Yuzu claps at every joke, even when she doesn't understand them.

My mom rolls her eyes with affection. My dad sighs dramatically.

It's warm. Familiar. Soft around the edges.

After dinner, I help wash the dishes.

My mom shoos me out halfway through, insisting I get some rest.

I retreat to my room and flop onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling.

There's a gentle knock on my door. Yuzu peeks in.

"Onee-chan, can I sleep here tonight?"

I nod, patting the space beside me.

She climbs up, snuggling close.

"Your bed's more comfy," she mumbles.

"Liar."

But I let her stay.

The lights dim. The house settles. I can hear my parents talking faintly down the hall.

I lie there, holding Yuzu's tiny hand in mine.

This is happiness. I know that.

But even in this perfect moment, I feel… apart.

Like I'm a visitor in my own heart. Watching the scene through a glass wall I built myself.

There's nothing wrong.

I just… wish I knew how to share the parts of me that don't smile.