The warmth of the bonfire flickered against the night sky, casting long
shadows on the sand. The once lively beach had quieted, the sound of
waves now the only companion to the glowing embers.
The others had settled into their usual playful banter, but Tadashi couldn't
shake the memory of Hikaru's expression from earlier.
He wasn't the only one who noticed.
"Hey, Hikaru," Rin called out bluntly.
"What's with you and fire? You look
like you're about to bolt every time it gets close."
The group quieted down, turning their attention to Hikaru, who had been
sitting slightly apart from them, gazing into the flames. For a moment, he
didn't respond. His fingers curled into the sand, and a tired smile crept onto
his face.
"It's nothing," he said, but his voice lacked the usual playfulness.
Tadashi frowned.
"Doesn't seem like nothing."
Hikaru let out a slow breath.
"You ever feel like your entire life was planned for you before you even had the chance to figure out what you wanted?"
The question hung in the air. Nao, silent as always, tilted her head slightly.
Rin crossed her arms.
"That's oddly specific."
A humorless chuckle escaped Hikaru's lips.
"That's because it was my reality."
The crackling fire filled the silence before he continued.
"My parents... They weren't bad people, but they had one goal for me,
perfection. I wasn't allowed to waste time. Every hour of my day was
mapped out—study sessions, extra tutoring, piano lessons, calligraphy, you
name it. I wasn't a son; I was a project."
His voice was quiet, but the weight behind his words was undeniable.
Kei, usually the most lighthearted, spoke hesitantly.
"And you never got a say?"
Hikaru shook his head.
"Nope. The idea of 'fun' was considered a distraction. Play was inefficient. Laughing too much meant I wasn't focused enough. And failing..."
He paused, his hands tightening into fists.
"Failure wasn't an option."
The fire crackled loudly, mirroring the tension in the air. Even Rin, usually
the first to throw out a sarcastic remark, remained silent.
Hikaru's gaze remained on the flames.
"The only time I ever felt free was when I'd sneak out at night and just... run. No destination, no schedule, just me and the wind. But even that didn't last long. One night, my father
caught me. That was the first time I really saw him get angry."
Tadashi felt a knot tighten in his chest.
"What happened?"
Hikaru let out a slow breath.
"I was locked in my study for weeks. No
breaks, no rest. They pushed me harder. I was just a kid, but they didn't
care. And one night... one night, I fell asleep with a candle still burning."
The group stiffened.
"The fire didn't spread much before my parents put it out, but that wasn't
what stuck with me. It was their reaction. They weren't scared that I
could've gotten hurt. They were furious that I'd let something 'so reckless'
happen. They didn't ask if I was okay. They just made sure I 'understood
my mistake.'"
A bitter smile crossed Hikaru's face.
"That's when I realized I wasn't their son. I was their creation. And fire..."
He looked into the flames again, his
voice barely above a whisper.
"Fire became a reminder of how trapped I was. How I would always be punished for being anything less than perfect."
Silence. Heavy and unshakable.
For once, even Rin had nothing to say.
Tadashi felt his chest tighten. He had never thought of Hikaru as anything
but confident, easygoing, almost untouchable. To see him like this, to hear
this side of him, it made something in him ache.
"You don't have to be that person anymore," Tadashi said quietly.
Hikaru blinked, turning to look at him.
Tadashi swallowed before continuing. "You're not what they made you.
You're who you choose to be."
For a long moment, Hikaru just stared at him. Then, slowly, a small,
genuine smile replaced the usual smirks and teasing grins.
"Maybe you're right."
The fire crackled once more, but this time, Hikaru didn't look away.