The morning after New Year's Eve, I woke up slowly.
I didn't want to move.
My body felt like it was stuck to the bed — like I was glued to the warmth of my blanket, to Shiba-inu cuddled against me.
I hugged him tighter, burying my face into his soft fur.
I didn't want to let go.
Not yet.
From the kitchen, I could hear Mama moving — the sound of dishes clinking, her soft footsteps.
Papa was already sitting at the table, sipping his coffee like he always did.
They knew I was awake.
Even though I hadn't come out of my room, they could feel it.
Because they're Mama and Papa —
And they always know.
Then Mama called out gently, her voice warm like always:
"Hidekiii… breakfast is ready~"
But I didn't answer.
I just stayed under my blanket.
Quiet.
Still.
I heard footsteps — slow, steady, getting closer.
From far… to near.
Then they stopped, right beside my bed.
I held my breath.
The blanket lifted softly, and I peeked out.
It was Papa.
He smiled down at me — his gentle smile, the one that never pushes, only invites.
His hand reached out and rubbed my head.
"What's up, buddy?" he asked softly.
"Still hiding 'cause it's cold under the blanket?"
I shook my head slowly.
Not because I was cold.
Because I didn't feel ready.
He didn't press.
He just rubbed my back slowly, patiently.
"Let's go, buddy.
Mama's waiting for you."
I didn't want to go.
Not really.
But I didn't want to make Mama sad either.
Not after all the love she always gives me.
So I sat up.
I let the blanket slide off my shoulders.
And Papa reached out his hand.
I took it.
His fingers were warm and strong.
We held hands, just like we used to when I was smaller.
And we walked together to the dining room,
where Mama was waiting with a smile,
and breakfast filled the air with a smell that felt like home.
After we finished our meal, I didn't expect what Papa would do next.
Without saying a word, he gently picked me up into his arms and carried me to the piano.
He sat down on the bench and opened the lid with care.
Then he lifted me onto his lap, making sure I was comfortable.
"Woaaah~ look at you, Hideki," he said with a soft laugh, inspecting my arms and cheeks like a doctor.
"You've grown big."
I smirked… then smiled.
I liked when Papa said things like that.
Then he looked into my eyes, calm and warm.
"You know, Hideki… Papa once felt what you're feeling now."
My eyes widened a little.
"Really…?" I asked, curious and innocent.
"Yeah," he said with a nod. "Because Papa was young once too. Just like you."
I kept staring at him, listening closely.
"And you know what, buddy?" he continued, "There's a song Papa always remembers whenever I think about feelings like yours."
I couldn't help it—my curiosity grew even more.
My face must've shown it, because Papa chuckled.
Behind us, Mama was still at the sink washing dishes.
But she was listening too—I could tell.
Papa looked back at me.
"Do you want to hear the song, buddy?"
"Yeah!" I said quickly. "Hideki wants it!"
So Papa placed his hands gently on the keys and began to play.
The music started slowly.
Soft, like someone walking barefoot on a quiet beach.
The piano didn't shout or sparkle—
it felt like warm water slowly rising around me… like an embrace.
Then, with his calm voice, Papa began to sing.(Notes: it is Carole King - You've Got a Friend if you want to sing together and feel the moment)
When you alone and troubled
And you need someone to share
And no one', no one' is goin' to come
Close your eyes and think of me
And soon I will be there
To make you smile, and to forgeten your pain …
I just listened.
No talking.
No questions.
Just feeling everything.
Then he continued.
You just need call my name
And you know that I will be there
I'll come runnin' to see you my friend
Winter, spring, summer or fall
You don't need to care where i'm from
And I'll be there…
Cause I'm your friend.
Mama's voice joined him from the kitchen, soft and beautiful.
You don't need to care where i'm from
And I'll be there…
Cause I'm your friend.
When they sang together, it felt like magic.
Like the song wasn't just a song — but something living.
Something warm that wrapped itself around me like a blanket.
Papa's fingers kept dancing across the keys.
I was mesmerized.
I didn't know every word,
but I understood the meaning.
I felt it.
This wasn't just music.
It was a promise.
A promise that even if I'm sad…
Even if I feel alone…
Someone will be there.
Always.
Papa kept singing, and Mama stepped closer, standing beside us.
She rested her hand on Papa's shoulder, and gently swayed with him —
both of them moving side to side, like the song was a cradle holding all three of us.
Papa sang the second verse:
Ain't it good to know that I'm your friend
When others can be so cold
They'll hurt you, yes, and desert you
And take your smile and make you sad…
Oh, don't let it happend…
Mama echoed his words, joining in with the last lines —
not always singing the full lyrics,
but adding her voice where it mattered most.
It worked.
It all blended.
Like their love had become a duet.
And then they sang together — strong, loving, true:
You just need call my name
And you know that I will be there
I'll come runnin' to see you my friend
Winter, spring, summer or fall
You don't need to care where i'm from
And I'll be there…
cause I'm your friend.
Then Papa played a few soft notes on the piano again, his fingers gentle on the keys.
And with a warm smile, he sang one more time — just the final line:
"Cause I'm your friend."
His voice was quiet, like a whisper carried by the wind.
Then, Mama joined in — her voice wrapping around his like a ribbon, soft and sure.
Together, they sang the last line once more, like a promise they both wanted me to hear with all my heart:
"Cause I'm your friend."
And I believed them.
I really did.
As the final notes faded, Papa added a gentle stroke on the keys.
Then… silence.
The room is warm with morning light, but it's not just the sun. It's them—Mama and Papa. Their love. Their voices.
Papa sits at the piano bench, his arms still wrapped around me from behind. I can feel his steady breath on the top of my head, the soft rise and fall of his chest against my back. His warmth makes my sadness feel a little smaller.
Mama stands beside us, her hand resting gently on Papa's shoulder. Her fingers brush his shirt softly, like she's adding her own music through touch. She sways side to side, her eyes never leaving us—especially me.
They don't need to look at each other to stay in sync.
Their voices blend like colors mixing in water—Papa's low and steady, Mama's soft and bright. Each note they sing wraps around me, like a blanket that was sewn just for days like this.
When they sing that final line:
"Cause I'm your friend."
…Papa plays one last, gentle note on the piano.
Then silence.
But not the kind of silence that feels empty.
This one is full. Full of everything I needed.
Mama leans down and presses a kiss to my temple, her lips soft, her love quiet but deep.
Papa's arms stay around me, not in a hurry to let go.
And me?
I just sit there.
So still.
Letting my heart catch every bit of it.
I cry… but not because I'm alone.
I cry because I'm not.
Because even when Yui feels far,
even when the world feels too big for a small boy with a hurting heart…
I still have this.
I still have THEM.
And that…
That's a song I'll never forget.
Author's Note :
The song featured in this chapter, "You've Got a Friend," was originally written by Carole King. It has been lovingly integrated into this story as an emotional tribute to the comfort and connection it brings — especially through a child's heart.
This rendition is told from Hideki's perspective, as he hears it through the love of his parents. The lyrics have been respectfully adapted and interpreted as part of the narrative, to celebrate how music can become a source of healin
g, memory, and hope.
This chapter is a fictional homage meant to honor the spirit of the original — a song that reminds us that even in our quietest moments, we are never truly alone.