Chapter 30: Chapter 30 : Broken Dreams
After submitting the form, Haruto stepped out of the convenience store. The faint chime of the doorbell faded behind him, replaced by the soft whisper of the countryside breeze. The sun was leaning westward, painting everything in shades of gold. He slipped his hands into his pockets and started walking down the narrow path beside the road, his thoughts trailing behind each step.
"Final year of high school..." he thought to himself. "But how many days have I even gone this year?"
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d attended classes properly. When he transferred to this countryside school, he’d thought things would change—that a slower, quieter life would help him focus. But somehow, it didn’t. He had gotten caught up in moments, in people, in feelings that came too fast to understand.
Now, as the wind brushed past his hair, the weight of reality began to settle in.
"What am I really going to do?" he wondered, his eyes following the line of telephone wires that stretched endlessly ahead. "College? Work? Maybe both?"
He thought about Ayame’s smile when she handed him the job form, about Kana’s quiet, tired eyes, about Ayaka who still hadn’t returned. Every face carried its own story—and somehow, each one was now part of his.
"I’ve been running without direction," he sighed softly. "I have to start somewhere... school, work... anything."
His footsteps echoed faintly against the road as he turned past a row of low houses, each with small gardens blooming with morning glories and sunflowers. The quiet was peaceful—until something caught his eye.
A familiar figure stood a little ways ahead, walking slowly down the opposite side of the road. The girl’s long, silky hair glowed faintly in the evening light, and she was looking up at the sky as if lost in her own world.
"Miyu..." Haruto whispered without meaning to.
She was wearing her school uniform, though her blazer was unbuttoned, and her tie hung loosely around her neck. Her gaze was distant, fixed on the scattered clouds that drifted across the pale sky.
Haruto slowed down. It had been a while since he’d seen her properly. They were classmates—but like most things lately, he hadn’t given much time to school or the people in it. Yet, seeing her there, quietly walking with that same gentle air, stirred something in him.
For a brief moment, he just watched her from behind. The way the breeze moved her hair, the soft rhythm of her steps—it all felt... peaceful. Familiar, even.
"Maybe... going back to school isn’t such a bad idea," he thought with a faint smile. "If people like her are there..."
The road stretched ahead, golden light spilling across the fields beside them, and Haruto found himself walking toward Miyu—without really thinking about it.
Haruto stepped quietly in front of Miyu, his shoes brushing against the grass by the roadside. She blinked, startled at first, her eyes meeting his—and for a moment, neither spoke. The fading sunlight caught her face, and Haruto noticed how her usual brightness seemed dimmed, her eyes distant and heavy with something unspoken.
"Miyu..." he said softly, tilting his head a little. "You look... kind of down."
Miyu tried to smile, but it barely reached her eyes. "Ah—no, it’s nothing. I’m fine."
Haruto could tell it wasn’t true. The way her shoulders were slumped, how her voice trembled slightly when she spoke—it all felt too fragile to ignore.
"Come on," he said gently, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Let’s walk for a bit. You don’t have to talk. Just... come."
Miyu hesitated, then nodded. "...Okay."
The two began walking side by side along the narrow dirt path that led out toward the river. The evening air had cooled; the sky above them had turned from orange to a soft purple, and one by one, the stars began to appear. The only sounds were the chirping of crickets and the quiet rustle of grass brushing their legs.
Minutes passed in silence—peaceful, but heavy. Haruto kept glancing at her from the corner of his eye. She was hugging her arms around herself, her gaze fixed on the distant water that shimmered faintly under the rising moonlight.
When they reached the riverbank, the moon was full—its pale light spilling over the calm surface, turning it silver. They stopped on the soft grass, the gentle flow of the river whispering in the background.
Haruto turned to her, his voice quiet but firm.
"Miyu... you’re not doing well, are you?"
She flinched slightly. "Eh...?"
He gave her a small, comforting smile. "I can tell. I don’t know what happened, but... you don’t have to hide it. Just talk to me."
Miyu’s lips trembled. She looked down, her fingers clutching the edge of her skirt. For a long moment, she didn’t speak. Then finally—her voice cracked.
"...My father."
Haruto’s eyes softened.
"He divorced my mom... a few months ago," she said, her words quivering as they left her mouth. "He said it was better for both of them. But... I don’t understand how it’s better when everyone’s so hurt."
Tears welled in her eyes, catching the moonlight like tiny stars.
"He wanted me to live with him after that, but... I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave Mom alone. She’s been working every day—morning to night—just so we can get by. She comes home so tired, she barely eats... and when she smiles, it’s like she’s forcing it."
Her voice broke completely now, her hands trembling. "I just... I hate seeing her like that. I can’t help her. I’m just... useless."
Before Haruto even thought about it, he moved. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her close against his chest.
Miyu gasped softly at first, but then—she broke down. Her tears fell quietly onto his shirt, her hands clutching at his back as she let everything pour out. Haruto held her tighter, his palm gently caressing her hair as he whispered:
"Hey... it’s okay. You’re not useless, Miyu. You’re doing your best. Sometimes, just staying strong beside someone you love—that’s already enough."
She trembled in his arms, her face buried against his chest. His warmth, his voice—it felt like something solid she could finally hold onto.
The river shimmered nearby, the moon reflected perfectly on its surface. Fireflies began to drift through the grass, their soft glow floating between them like tiny souls.
When Miyu finally lifted her head, her eyes were red but calmer. Haruto looked down at her, brushing away a tear from her cheek with his thumb.
"You’re not alone," he said quietly. "Not anymore."
She stared up at him—her breath uneven, her lips parting just slightly. There was a fragile silence between them... then, slowly, Haruto leaned forward.
Their lips met—softly, uncertain at first, like testing something sacred. Miyu’s body tensed, then melted into him. The kiss deepened, their warmth blending under the silver light. Her tears still clung to her lashes, but now they mixed with something gentler—relief.
Haruto’s hand moved to the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair as he pulled her closer. Miyu’s hands pressed against his chest, not to stop him—but to feel his heartbeat. Each second stretched long and weightless, their lips moving together in rhythm with the quiet hum of the river.
When they finally broke apart, their breaths mingled in the cool night air. The moon hung above them, casting their shadows together on the grass.
Miyu’s eyes were soft now, her sadness lighter.
"...Thank you, Haruto," she whispered. "For listening... and for staying."
He smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"Always," he said.
The stars shimmered quietly above them, the river whispering below—two hearts finding warmth again under the full moon.
The moon hung high above the countryside — round, clear, and soft, its light spilling gently over the quiet river. The sound of water brushing against stones filled the silence, and the soft chirping of crickets made everything feel even calmer. Miyu and Haruto sat side by side on the grass, their shadows stretching across the riverbank.
Haruto leaned back slightly, resting on his palms, and exhaled, watching the small ripples in the water.
"Feels weird, doesn’t it?" he said softly, glancing at her. "When we were kids, we thought life would always be easy. Then one day, it just... changes."
Miyu nodded slowly, her eyes glimmering faintly under the moonlight. "Yeah... I used to think family meant forever. But now it’s just me and Mom." She hugged her knees close. "I try to smile at school, but when I go home and see her cooking tired, sleeping at the table... it hurts. I feel useless."
Haruto’s eyes softened. He plucked a small blade of grass and twirled it between his fingers. "You’re not useless. You’re strong. You stayed with your mom instead of running away from it all."
She looked at him, her eyes shimmering. "You really think so?"
"Of course," Haruto said, smiling faintly. "You have more courage than me. I’ve been lost for months, doing nothing. But seeing you fight through all that... it makes me want to try too."
Miyu’s lips curved slightly, a weak but genuine smile. "You’ve changed, Haruto. Before, you didn’t talk like this."
He laughed softly. "Maybe. Maybe I finally started to understand what life means. It’s not just... fun or routine. It’s about people who make it worth living."
The air grew colder, but the warmth between them stayed. Miyu rested her head gently on his shoulder. "You always say things that make me feel better," she whispered.
Haruto turned his head slightly, looking at her short brown hair glinting in the moonlight. "Then I’ll keep saying them," he replied quietly. "Until you don’t feel sad anymore."
They sat like that for a while, the silence filled only with the sound of flowing water and the night’s wind brushing the grass. Miyu’s breathing slowed, calm now, and Haruto could feel her heart through the closeness.
As the hours passed, stars moved across the sky, and their conversation softened — about school, old memories, dreams they never said aloud before.
At one point, Miyu chuckled softly. "If someone saw us here, they’d probably think we’re dating."
Haruto smiled at the river. "Maybe one day... we’ll make that true."
Her cheeks turned pink under the silver moon, and she leaned closer again — not saying anything, just letting her head rest on his arm. They stayed there until the night deepened, both lost in the warmth of the moment, feeling that maybe—just maybe—their broken pieces had found a place to fit together.