Hikari had expected school to feel different.
She had expected whispers, or strange glances, or at least the weight of everything that had happened to press down on her the moment she stepped onto campus.
But the day went on… normally.
Classes passed as usual, the teachers droned on, and students laughed at the same old jokes. Her friends still waved at her in the hallways, asked if she wanted to go grab snacks after school. No one noticed the way her uniform had been hastily ironed this morning.
To the rest of the world, nothing had changed.
But inside, everything had.
Her hands trembled slightly when she reached for her notebook. She wasn't sure if it was from exhaustion or something deeper.
She had spent the night at Mira's place. She had slept in a futon that smelled faintly of fabric softener and old takeout. She had woken up to Mira groaning about mornings and coffee instead of waking up to her mother's voice, sharp and accusing.
It should have felt like relief. Like freedom.
But it still didn't feel real.
"Hey, Hikari!"
She startled, snapping out of her thoughts as a classmate leaned over her desk.
"You coming to karaoke today?" the girl asked, resting her chin on her palm. "Everyone's going after school."
Karaoke.
A few weeks ago, she might have said yes.
A few weeks ago, she might have spent the evening laughing, singing badly into a microphone, pretending like she wasn't constantly calculating how much money she had left in her wallet.
But now…
Now she just wanted to go.
"Sorry," Hikari said, mustering a small smile. "I have work today."
The girl groaned. "You're always working. Don't you ever take a break?"
Hikari just laughed lightly, brushing it off.
hours went by, the school bell rang. it is time to go home.
Students spilled out into the hallways, laughing, talking, making plans.
Hikari, however, moved with quiet urgency.
She didn't stop to chat. Didn't linger.
Her footsteps were quick, her fingers gripping the strap of her school bag tightly as she left the building and made her way back to Mira's place.
Her chest felt tight with something she couldn't name.
Excitement? Anxiety?
It didn't matter.
The only thing that mattered was that she had made a decision.
She wasn't going back.
-
The apartment was dark when she stepped inside.
The curtains were drawn, the air was stale, and the sink was still filled with dishes from two nights ago. A half-empty ashtray sat on the table, the smell of cigarettes lingering in the air.
Nothing had changed.
Her mother wasn't home—probably out drinking, or sleeping off whatever mood she'd been in last night.
Hikari's hands trembled slightly as she slipped off her shoes, stepping quietly into the small space she had called home for years.
It didn't feel like home now.
She walked into her room—if it could even be called that. It was barely more than a corner sectioned off by a makeshift curtain, her mattress pushed against the wall, her clothes stuffed into a secondhand dresser with one broken drawer.
She swallowed hard.
She had lived here.
And she had convinced herself that was normal.
That it was enough.
Her throat tightened.
She didn't belong here anymore.
Quickly, quietly, she pulled open her drawers and began packing.
Her uniform. Her extra clothes.
The small notebook where she had scribbled down every mistake she made at the bakery.
A childhood stuffed animal she hadn't looked at in years, tucked into the back of her closet, half-buried beneath old blankets.
She hesitated, fingers tightening around it.
Then, slowly, she placed it into her bag.
There wasn't much to take.
She hadn't realized just how little she actually owned until now.
She slung the bag over her shoulder, her breath uneven.
Then, as she turned to leave—
She hesitated.
Her fingers hovered over the kitchen counter, where a crumpled 5,000 yen bill sat.
Her mother's leftover cash.
The same amount Hikari had tried to give her last night.
A sick feeling curled in her stomach.
She didn't touch it.
Instead, she reached into her own wallet, pulled out a single 1,000 yen bill, and placed it beside the crumpled one.
Just in case.
Just to ease the guilt.
Then, before she could change her mind—
She turned.
And walked out of the apartment
-
Mira's apartment was empty when Hikari arrived.
Mira had work to finish—some kind of freelance deadline she had grumbled about over breakfast—so Hikari had the place to herself for now.
She dropped her school bag onto the floor, inhaled deeply, and then move all of the things she had taken from her room.
"I'll tidy all of this when my shift is over, i hope mira wouldn't mind..."
and off she goes to work
-
Hikari reached the bakery just as the sky was starting to fade into dusk.
She took a deep breath, letting the familiar scent of warm sugar and fresh dough steady her nerves.
She was ready to work. Ready to focus.
But then—
She saw her.
A figure standing in front of the bakery, speaking to Elias.
Her mother.
Hikari's breath hitched.
She froze, her heart slamming against her ribs.
Her mother's arms were crossed, her stance tense, her voice sharp. Elias stood firm in front of her, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Hikari felt like she had been knocked out of her own body.
She wasn't here.
She was back in that apartment.
Back in the suffocating air of her mother's voice, back in the sharpness of her words, back in the feeling of her fingers digging into her wrist—
"Oi."
A hand landed on her shoulder.
Hikari gasped, jolting back into the present.
Kobayashi stood beside her, his face as gruff as ever, but his voice low, careful.
"Come inside," he said simply, nodding toward his ramen shop.
Hikari's fingers clenched around the strap of her bag.
She hesitated.
Then, quickly, she ducked into the shop before she could be seen.
Outside, Elias remained calm.
But he wasn't unaffected.
He knew this woman.
He had never met her before, but he knew her.
Knew the way she held herself. Knew the way she spat accusations before she even let others speak. Knew the way she looked at him like he was the villain in a story she had already decided the ending to.
"You must be Souta-san," Elias said flatly, his voice neutral.
Her eyes narrowed. "You know who I am, then."
Elias exhaled through his nose. "I know enough."
Souta Ayaka scoffed, crossing her arms. "Then you know that you've been manipulating my daughter."
Elias' brow twitched. "Excuse me?"
"You took her in," she snapped. "Filled her head with lies, made her think she could just—run away like some rebellious brat. Do you think that's normal? Do you think it's okay to take advantage of a child—"
Elias' patience snapped.
"I didn't take her in," he said, voice colder than usual. "She came here on her own."
Ayaka's lips curled. "Oh, sure. Because you didn't push her into this, right?"
Elias clenched his jaw. "She wasn't running from me."
She stepped closer. "You're a grown man paying her barely above minimum wage—"
Elias slammed a hand down onto the counter.
"I paid her what I could," he said, his voice dangerously low. "And then I raised it, because she deserved it."
Ayaka faltered.
Elias straightened.
"And if you want the truth," he said, "then here it is: she's not going home because she doesn't want to. That has nothing to do with me."
Ayaka's mouth opened. But she had no words.
Then—
A new voice entered the conversation.
"Enough."
Kobayashi stepped forward, his gaze sharp as steel.
"This is my neighborhood," he said, tone leaving no room for argument. "And I won't let you cause a scene here."
Ayaka stiffened.
Kobayashi exhaled, eyes locked on hers. "Your daughter isn't here because of Elias. She's here because of you."
Silence.
Ayaka's lips pressed together.
Her hands trembled slightly.
Then—without another word—she turned and left.
-
Hikari sat in the back of Kobayashi's ramen shop, her hands curled into fists on her lap. Her mind was still spinning, replaying every word, every sharp edge of her mother's voice.
She wanted to disappear.
She had heard every single word from outside.
That she was ungrateful. That she was being manipulated. That she was too young to make decisions for herself. That she would regret this.
And worst of all—
That Elias had taken advantage of her.
That part had made her stomach churn.
She squeezed her eyes shut, her breath shaky.
She wanted to be angry. She wanted to scream that none of that was true.
But instead, she just felt… tired.
Footsteps approached.
She looked up just as Elias stepped into the shop, his expression unreadable.
For a moment, he just stood there, arms crossed, watching her.
Then, finally—
"She's gone."
Hikari exhaled slowly, unclenching her fists.
Elias leaned against the doorframe, running a hand through his hair. His fingers were tense, like he was still holding back frustration. "She's convinced I stole you from her."
Hikari swallowed hard. "I—I'm sorry, Sensei."
Elias frowned. "For what?"
"For causing trouble," she murmured, lowering her gaze. "For making her come here. For—making you deal with that."
Elias sighed, shifting his weight. "It's not your fault."
Hikari shook her head. "She—she still thinks she cares about me. But if she really cared, why—" Her voice cracked, and she bit her lip, shutting herself up.
Elias watched her for a long moment.
Then, in a voice quieter than usual—
"She does care."
Hikari flinched.
Elias exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not in the way you need her to. Not in a way that makes sense. But people like that… they convince themselves they love you while hurting you at the same time."
His voice was calm. Not soft, not sympathetic—just steady.
Like he knew.
Like he had been there.
Hikari looked up at him, something heavy settling in her chest.
"…Did you?" she whispered.
Elias didn't answer.
He just met her gaze, something unreadable in his eyes.
Hikari swallowed back the lump in her throat, wiping at her face quickly.
It didn't matter.
What mattered was that she wasn't going back.
And Elias wasn't forcing her to.
That was enough.
She inhaled sharply, then stood, bowing her head slightly. "I—I should go change. My shift is starting soon."
Elias watched her for a second longer.
Then, finally, he nodded.
"Go ahead," he said.