PART 3 — What the Body Knows
About an hour later, the house remained still.
Haruto stirred on the sofa.
His breathing changed first, growing uneven, then his fingers curled slightly against the blanket. Slowly, his eyes opened.
Light filtered in through the window, too bright, too sharp.
He winced.
His head throbbed faintly, a dull ache spreading behind his eyes—especially the left one. He raised a hand instinctively, pressing his fingers against his temple.
"…Why does it hurt…?" he murmured.
No answer came.
Akari was nearby, seated on the floor with her back against the sofa. When she sensed movement, she looked up—but she didn't speak.
Neither did Renjiro, who stood near the doorway, arms crossed.
Haruto shifted, confused. He looked around the room slowly, as if expecting something to jump out at him.
"…Did I fall asleep?" he asked quietly.
Akari met his eyes. For a moment, it looked like she might say something.
But she didn't.
"You fainted," she said simply.
Haruto frowned. "I don't remember."
That was all.
No questions followed. No explanations were offered.
He sat up carefully this time. The pain behind his left eye pulsed once, sharp enough to make him pause, but it faded as he stayed still.
Something felt wrong.
Not fear—
absence.
Like a missing piece he couldn't reach.
Akari watched him closely, noting how he avoided sudden movement, how his hand lingered near his eye without him realizing it.
Renjiro said nothing.
The silence stayed.
And though Haruto couldn't remember what had happened—
His body clearly did.
Akari broke the silence first.
"Do you want me to bring breakfast?" she asked gently.
Haruto looked up at her, a little surprised by the normalcy of the question. He hesitated, then nodded. "…Yeah. That'd be nice."
Akari stood and moved toward the kitchen, but she didn't rush. She paused once, glancing back at him as if checking that he was still steady, then disappeared from view.
Renjiro remained where he was.
Haruto shifted slightly on the sofa, then frowned. He rubbed his left eye without thinking.
Renjiro noticed.
"…Does your eye hurt?" he asked, not accusing—just observant.
Haruto froze for a second. "Huh?"
"You've been touching it," Renjiro said. "Feels off?"
Haruto thought about it. The pain wasn't sharp anymore—just a lingering soreness, like pressure that had already passed.
"…Maybe," he said slowly. "It's not bad. Just… tired, I guess."
Renjiro nodded once, as if filing that away. "If it gets worse, you say something."
Haruto nodded back.
Akari returned a moment later with breakfast, setting it down quietly. She glanced at Haruto's face—his eyes—then looked away, pretending she hadn't checked.
"Eat slowly," she said. "No rushing."
Haruto picked up the bowl, still unsure why his body felt heavier than his thoughts.
He didn't remember what happened.
But everyone else was watching him a little too closely.
And that told him enough.
Haruto's spoon hovered midair.
The room slowly faded around him—not completely, but enough that the sounds dulled, like he was sinking underwater. The pressure behind his left eye returned faintly, and his thoughts began to spiral, one after another, faster than he could follow.
Why does my body feel like this?
What did I forget?
Something's wrong…
"Haruto."
Akari's voice cut through it.
He blinked hard, the room snapping back into focus. His spoon clinked softly against the bowl as his hand lowered.
"…Yeah?" he said, a little startled.
Akari watched him for a second longer, then relaxed slightly when she saw his eyes clear. "You spaced out."
"Sorry," Haruto muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just tired."
Renjiro, who had been leaning against the wall, spoke then.
"By the way," he said evenly, "what did you tell Mikasa-sensei yesterday?"
Haruto looked up. "Huh?"
"You talked to her after class," Renjiro continued. "She mentioned something about it this morning."
Haruto paused, then gave a small, awkward smile. "Oh… that."
Akari glanced between them.
"I just complained a little," Haruto said, trying to sound casual. "I told her you guys don't really take us outside much. Training's always inside or controlled… and I don't really get to meet family members either. She's my aunt—and Mimi's my cousin."
Renjiro raised an eyebrow. "You complained."
"Well—yeah," Haruto said quickly. "Not like, angrily. I just said maybe seeing the outside world would help. You know… real experience."
The room went quiet again.
Akari studied Haruto's face, searching for something unspoken.
Renjiro exhaled slowly. "…You always say things at interesting times."
Haruto shrugged, but his fingers tightened slightly around the bowl.
"I didn't think it was a big deal," he said. "I just… thought it might matter."
No one responded right away.
And though Haruto didn't realize it—
That small conversation might have mattered more than he knew.
Haruto shifted slightly on the sofa, his voice quiet but steady.
"Can you guys… arrange a party?"
Akari tilted her head, surprised. "A party… for whom?"
He looked down at his hands, voice tight and hesitant. "…For Mimi. She's turning five… two days later."
Renjiro raised an eyebrow. "Why now?"
Haruto swallowed hard. "…I couldn't do anything for her before. The only thing I gave her was a chocolate. When I told her that her birthday would be a big party if her brother was there, she said it already would be. Because I'm here."
His lips pressed together. "…That's when I realized Aunty never told her she had a big brother. And I won't let her know. Ever."
He paused, voice dropping to a whisper. "…Only if that day I hadn't given up… Enruto would be here with us."
Tears ran quietly down his cheeks, but he didn't wipe them away.
Akari exhaled softly. "Then we'll do it. We'll make sure she has a birthday to remember."
Haruto managed a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "…Thanks."