Wednesday evening settled over their small apartment like a sigh.
The air was thick with the hum of cicadas outside, the faint warmth of summer clinging to the walls. A soft lamp lit the room, its glow spilling over scattered papers and a cup of untouched tea.
Yukino sat at her desk, pen in hand, staring at the same line in her notebook for what felt like hours. Her thoughts weren't on her work — they hadn't been for days.
Beside her notebook lay her phone, the screen dim but alive with one familiar message:"Service out of reach."
Every time she tried, it was the same. Every single time.
Her hand hovered near it again, hesitating. She told herself it was silly — that maybe Ken was busy, that he needed space, that she was overthinking.
But the silence felt heavier than reason could explain.
A small sound broke through her thoughts — the soft padding of tiny feet.
"Onee-chan…"
Honoka stood at the edge of the light, Panda-san dangling from her small hand. Her cheeks were pale, her eyes faintly red, but she wore a brave little smile — the kind that shouldn't belong to someone so young.
"Honoka," Yukino said softly, sitting up. "You're still awake?"
The little girl nodded, clutching her stuffed panda tighter. "I couldn't sleep."
She hesitated for a moment, then added quietly, "You're sad… aren't you?"
Yukino blinked fast, forcing a small smile. "No, I'm just… thinking, that's all."
Honoka walked closer until she was standing beside her chair. "It's okay, Onee-chan," she said, her voice trembling but warm. "Oni-san will be back tomorrow."
Yukino froze, her breath catching.
Then Honoka reached up and took her hand, squeezing it tightly. "Don't be sad, okay? I'm here for you."
The words struck something deep inside her — soft, but enough to break her completely.
Yukino turned in her chair and pulled Honoka into her arms. "Oh, Honoka…" she whispered, voice shaking.
The little girl wrapped her arms around her as tightly as she could. "You always cry for me," she murmured, "so now I'll be strong for you."
Yukino's tears fell, first quiet, then freely. She pressed her face into Honoka's hair, shoulders trembling. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "You shouldn't have to be the strong one."
Honoka shook her head, her small fingers curling into Yukino's sweater. "But… I want to be. Because if I cry too, then who will make you smile?"
Yukino let out a choked laugh between tears. "You sound like a grown-up, you know that?"
Honoka giggled softly, wiping her sister's cheek with her sleeve. "Then you can be the baby tonight."
Yukino laughed again — weak but real — pulling her closer. "Deal."
They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in the stillness of the room, the faint hum of the city beyond the window.
The phone on the desk stayed dark and silent.
But for the first time in days, the emptiness didn't feel lonely.
Because in that quiet moment, Yukino understood something simple and beautiful —
Ken wasn't the only one who made her feel whole.
Her little sister — her light — had been doing that all along.
Later That Night
The clock on the wall ticked softly past nine. The world outside their window glowed in amber, the streetlights painting faint shadows across the curtains.
Yukino sat on the floor beside Honoka's bed, her fingers idly tracing through her sister's hair as she hummed a soft tune. Her eyes were half-lidded, her heart heavy but calm after their earlier tears.
Then —
Rrring… Rrring…
Both sisters froze.
Yukino blinked, staring toward the desk. Her phone glowed faintly in the dim light.
Her breath hitched. Honoka sat up, wide-eyed. "That sound…" she whispered. "Onee-chan — it's—"
Yukino grabbed the phone, her fingers trembling as she read the name on the screen.
Ken-san.
For fifteen long seconds, neither of them moved. The only sound in the room was the soft buzz of the ringtone.
Then, almost shaking, Yukino swiped to answer.
Her voice came out barely a whisper. "K–Ken-san?"
The familiar calm voice answered, a little hoarse, but gentle as ever."Yukino-san…"
That was all it took.
Tears welled instantly. "Where were you? Do you have any idea how worried we were?" she cried, her voice breaking. "You said Thursday — do you even know what day it is? Why didn't you pick up? I thought… I thought something happened to you again!"
Honoka gasped softly, clutching Panda-san to her chest. She leaned close, shouting into the phone, "Oni-san! You made Onee-chan cry again!"
Ken's quiet chuckle carried through the line, warm and tired."I'm sorry," he said. "I really am. There was no signal where I was… I didn't mean to worry you two."
Yukino wiped her tears with the back of her hand. "You could've at least sent a message. Do you know how many times I tried to call you?"
"I know," he said softly. "I saw them when I finally got service."A pause. Then — "It meant more than you think."
Yukino's breath caught.
Honoka, still pouting, spoke up again. "Oni-san, you're mean! You promised you'd come back! Panda-san missed you too!"
Ken laughed again, the sound lighter this time. "Did Panda-san really?" he teased.
"Yes!" Honoka sniffled. "And me too! You didn't even say good night like always…"
"I'll make it up to you, Honoka-chan," he said gently. "I promise."
Honoka pressed the phone close to her ear, whispering, "You better…" before handing it back to Yukino.
Yukino hesitated. Her fingers brushed the edge of the phone. So many words sat in her throat — too many to say.
"Ken-san…" she managed finally, voice trembling. "You really scared me."
Silence hung for a heartbeat — then his voice came, quiet and sure."I know. And I'm sorry, Yukino-san. I'll explain everything tomorrow."
Her tears had slowed, but her heart hadn't. "Tomorrow…" she repeated softly, like she didn't trust the word.
"Yes," he said. "Tomorrow. I'll make sure of it."
Yukino smiled faintly through her tears, clutching the phone to her chest. "Then… don't make us wait anymore, okay?"
His voice softened. "Never again."
When the call ended, the room fell still. Honoka was already smiling through her sleepiness, hugging Panda-san tight.
"Oni-san is really coming back…" she murmured.
Yukino brushed her hair gently. "Yeah… he is."
But even after turning off the light and lying down beside her, Yukino couldn't quiet her heart.
It wasn't just relief that kept her awake.
It was the quiet, undeniable truth that she had fallen too deeply for a man who said very little —but whose silence had become the gentlest place her heart could rest.