Brakk!
A loud crash jolted me from the living room. My heart jumped, instinctively snapping toward the sound. I rushed toward the living room, my voice already calling out before my brain could catch up.
“Keiko, are you—”
But the words never made it out.
Because before I could finish, Keiko threw herself against me.
She hugged me, burying her face into my chest, and I froze. The sound of her sobbing hit me like a gut punch. I’d never… not once in all the years we’d known each other… seen her cry like this.
Even back then. Even when she found out about what I did. About the lies. The betrayal. She didn’t shed a single tear in front of me. But this… this was something else.
My body went weak. My stomach twisted, and for a second, I was afraid. Afraid because somewhere deep inside, I knew… whatever it was, it was something I wouldn’t be able to fix.
Her hands clutched my shirt so tightly I thought the threads might snap. Her voice cracked through choked sobs, muffled against my chest.
“It’s… it’s Dad…”
And just like that — it felt like the air got punched out of the room.
I didn’t know what to say. The words jammed up in my throat. I wasn’t good at this. Never had been. My instinct was always to run, to dodge, to escape from the rawness of real pain. And now, there was nowhere left to run.
I slowly wrapped my arms around her trembling body, one hand gently on the back of her head.
“I’m so sorry…” It was all I could manage.
And it felt pathetically small against the weight of her grief.
---
It was nearly midnight when we found ourselves in a taxi, speeding through the sleeping streets of Tokyo. The city’s neon lights blurred against the windows, but neither of us said a word. I just held her hand, and she squeezed back like she was afraid she might fall apart if she let go.
Keiko’s parents lived in a different ward — still Tokyo, but far enough that it felt like a journey.
When we finally arrived, Keiko didn’t wait for me. She jumped out of the taxi and rushed through the front gate.
I… stayed frozen in my seat.
It had been years since I’d been here. Years since I last crossed this threshold.
And every step felt like walking through glass.
Because no matter how long it had been, the memories here stayed sharp. The guilt. The shame. The hatred in her father’s eyes when I faced him. The words he spat at me. How I swore I’d never set foot in this house again.
Pathetic.
Even now… I was terrified.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to the door.
A voice called out. “Who are you?”
It was Keiko’s mother.
Her face was a mess — red, swollen eyes, hair disheveled, dressed in a simple house robe. She’d clearly been crying for hours.
For a moment, my brain scrambled. Of course. She wouldn’t recognize me like this. I wasn’t Ryusei anymore. I was Ryuko now.
“I… I’m Keiko’s friend,” I stammered, keeping my eyes low.
She stared at me, confused for a second. Probably wondering why a friend was here in the middle of the night, but grief makes people less curious. She just gave a small nod.
“Oh… it’s cold outside. Come in,” she murmured, her voice hoarse.
I followed, my steps small, every breath heavy.
And then I saw him.
Keiko was kneeling at his side, her shoulders shaking. And in front of her, lying on the floor… her father. Covered in a white cloth. Only the shape of his face beneath the fabric.
An old tradition. One last dignity before farewell.
My knees buckled, and somehow I made it to her side.
I couldn’t look at him.
I couldn’t.
My hands trembled as I bowed my head.
Not as Ryusei.
Not as anyone.
Just a worthless man who’d once hurt his daughter beyond repair.
I didn’t say a word. Because what could I possibly say that would matter now?
Keiko’s cries filled the room.
And for the first time in years… I let myself cry too.
---
Morning came, creeping in through paper sliding doors and pale gray skies. I left before sunrise. It wasn’t right for me to stay — not as Ryuko.
While Keiko was staying there, and I knew her mother wouldn’t question it, but if I lingered, it would only make things more complicated.
I hated leaving her alone like that.
I couldn’t sleep when I got home. The apartment felt suffocatingly empty without Keiko.
“Dad, I’m off,” Rin said as she grabbed her bag.
“Okay, be careful,” I replied, watching her head out the door. She’d taken the day off from school and was going straight to her grandparents’ house early that morning.
And by midmorning, I was already forcing myself to head to work. Because what else was I supposed to do? I wasn’t her husband. Not to the world, anyway. I wasn’t family. Couldn’t take a leave of absence for her father’s death. Couldn’t sit by her side like I wanted.
At work, the news had already spread.
Condolences passed through hushed conversations.
Boss Manna sent her regrets and promised she’d attend the funeral tomorrow. Even Ruka asked if I was okay.
“You sure you wanna be here?” she asked quietly as we wiped down the counters together.
I forced a weak smile. “It’s fine… I’m just a friend, remember?”
Ruka frowned, clearly not buying it, but she didn’t push. “Still… you should go tonight. It matters.”
I nodded.
---
By the time 8PM rolled around and we closed up shop, I was practically running out the door.
The house was packed when I arrived.
Relatives. Neighbors. Family friends. Faces I barely recognized.
I scanned the crowd, looking for Keiko and Rin.
And then — I saw her.
Keiko was standing at the far end of the garden, talking quietly to someone. Her face pale and exhausted, her hair pulled back carelessly. And beside her — my stomach dropped.
My parents.
I hadn’t seen them in years.
Not since the fallout.
Not since they disowned me.
And now, of all nights…
I felt my pulse hammering in my ears as I watched my father, his face hardened with grief and anger, gesturing wildly.
“Where is Ryusei?!”
His voice cracked through the garden like a whip.
“Why isn’t that damn fool here when his own father-in-law’s lying dead inside?!”
My legs felt like they’d turn to water.
I could see Keiko trying to calm him down, Rin standing awkwardly nearby, her eyes darting between them.
I took a shaky breath.
This was my punishment.
This was the life I’d built for myself.
A ghost among the living.
And no matter how many petals fall, no matter how spring arrives year after year…
Some scars bloom forever.