Takuya kicked off his shoes in the genkan, calling out as he always did.
"I'm home."
Silence answered him.
He waited, a slight unease settling in. That's weird. Mom usually calls back right away. The house felt too quiet, the air still and heavy. He walked through the living room, glancing into the kitchen. No apron-clad figure humming a tune.
He found her in his father's study. The room smelled of old paper and Hiroshi's favorite coffee, a scent Takuya rarely noticed anymore. It felt preserved, almost sacred, like a museum of his father's life.
Aiko sat on the tatami mat, a worn photo album open on her lap. Her shoulders were hunched, her dark hair loose around her face. She did not hear him approach. Takuya saw her thumb trace a faded image, her wedding ring glinting in the soft afternoon light.
He cleared his throat.
Aiko looked up, startled, her eyes red-rimmed. A small, tired smile touched her lips.
"Oh, Takuya. Welcome home."
"What are you doing?" Takuya asked.
Aiko jumped, dropping the photo album with a soft thud. She picked it up, her movements slow.
"Oh, Takuya. I was just cleaning up the study." Her voice was soft, a little hoarse. "Your father's things. I've been putting it off."
She paused, her fingers tracing the worn cover of the album. "Then I found this. So many memories."
She held up a picture. It showed a much younger Takuya, maybe six years old, sitting on his father's shoulders. Hiroshi grinned, his arms wrapped around Takuya's small legs. Takuya, with a mischievous smile, held a tiny, plastic motocross bike.
"You loved that bike," Aiko said, a wistful smile on her face. "You were always so full of energy. Always wanted to go fast, and your father had to chase you."
"You were a handful, you know," Aiko said, a soft chuckle in her voice. "Always running off, climbing trees. Your clothes always had holes in the knees."
She looked at the picture again, her gaze distant.
"I worried so much every time you scraped a knee. Every time you fell."
Takuya felt a familiar ache. She still worries.
"Your father, though…" She paused, a gentle smile appearing. "He'd scold you, tell you to be careful, but then I'd catch him. He'd watch you get right back up, dust yourself off, and climb that tree again. There was this look in his eyes. Pride."
Aiko turned the photo to face him. "He always said your adventurous spirit, even if it made you a little reckless, came from a good place. A desire to explore, to experience everything."
She touched the picture, her voice quiet. "He believed you were meant for great things, Takuya. Because of your good heart. He always said your resilience would take you far."
"I miss him too, Mom." Takuya's voice was quiet, a low agreement.
A deep ache settled in his chest, a familiar heartache for the loss. He watched her, a knot forming in his throat. It's not fair. Dad should still be here.
Aiko reached out, her hand gently resting on his arm. Her touch was warm, a silent comfort.
"He was a great man, Takuya." Her voice was a soft whisper. "So responsible, so kind."
She looked at him, her eyes filled with a sad warmth. "Your father was brilliant. So patient, so wise."
Aiko's gaze softened. "And he loved you so much. He was such a good father."
"I hope you grow up to be just like him, Takuya. All those wonderful qualities."
Takuya leaned into his mother's hug, feeling the soft warmth of her sweater. He closed his eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of her. It was a comfort he hadn't realized he desperately needed. Her arms felt fragile around him, yet they held a quiet strength that always grounded him.
"Enough sadness for today," Aiko said, pulling back gently. Her eyes were still red, but a determined set had returned to her jaw. "You must be starving. I'll go heat up dinner."
She gave his arm a light squeeze before turning. Takuya watched her walk out of the study, a loving but weary figure. Her shoulders, though, were squared. She was moving forward.
She's trying so hard to be strong.
A cold, firm resolve settled in Takuya's heart. She deserves to be happy again. He would make sure of it. The Iron Cross Army would pay for what they did. He swore it to himself.
* * *
He found Nijika and Ryo outside the station, just as planned. Nijika's blonde ponytail bounced as she talked, her loose white shirt and flowing skirt a blur of motion. Ryo stood beside her, calm as always, in a long-sleeved dark shirt and pants. Her yellow eyes watched the passing crowds.
"Takkun! Over here!" Nijika waved, her vermilion eyes bright.
She grabbed his arm, her grip light but firm, pulling him along.
"Come on! There's this new café I saw. They have the best-looking parfaits. You won't believe the whipped cream!"
Ryo followed, a quiet presence at Nijika's other side. She looks like she's scouting for aliens, not dessert.
The thought made Takuya crack a small smile.
It felt normal, this easy rhythm with his friends. Nijika's boundless energy, Ryo's quiet observation. They found a small, brightly lit cafe. Nijika immediately launched into a passionate description of the menu.
"Oh, definitely the Berry Blast Parfait, Takkun. Or maybe the Chocolate Mountain! They look amazing."
Ryo, meanwhile, simply pointed at the smallest, cheapest coffee on the menu.
"Just black, please."
Their desserts arrived, colorful and piled high with cream and fruit. Nijika gasped, a sound of pure joy. She dove into her Berry Blast Parfait, her eyes closing as she hummed in delight.
Takuya took a bite of his own, a rare moment of simple pleasure. It was good. Sweet. He almost forgot the aching muscles from Garia's training.
Then, Ryo reached across the table. Her fork, moving with calm precision, scooped a huge chunk from Nijika's parfait.
"Hey! Ryo, you can't just do that!" Nijika yelped, her happy expression replaced by loud frustration. "That's mine! You already ordered your coffee!"
Ryo took a slow bite, her expression unchanging.
"I am simply assisting you with portion control," Ryo said, her voice flat. "It's for your own health."
"My health?! You just ate half my dessert! Pay me back for that!"
"Money is temporary," Ryo replied, swirling her black coffee. "But our friendship is eternal."
Takuya just shook his head. They do this every time. He found himself grinning, watching the familiar argument play out. Some things never changed.
* * *
The cool night air washed over Takuya's face as they left the café. Nijika still hummed about her parfait, a bright, happy tune. Ryo walked beside them, quiet as ever, her expression calm as she looked at the city lights.
This is good.
It felt like a small break from everything else, from the training and the constant threat of the Iron Cross Army.
As they walked down a slightly less crowded street, two men stepped out of the shadows. They had slicked-back hair and clothes that tried too hard to be cool. Takuya's Spider-Sense gave a small, irritating prickle.
"Hey there, pretty ladies," one of the men slurred, a smirk on his face. "Why don't you ditch the kid and join us for a real good time?"
Nijika's bright smile tightened, her grip on Takuya's arm faltering.
"No, thank you," she said, her voice polite but strained. "We're fine."
Ryo gave the men a flat, dismissive look, her yellow eyes showing no emotion.
"Yeah, come on," the second man pushed, stepping a little closer. "Don't be shy. We know a great place."
Their voices grew louder, more aggressive. Takuya felt a cold anger begin to simmer in his chest. They're not worth it, he told himself, but the protective instinct was already there, rising hot and fast.
He stepped forward, placing himself between Nijika and Ryo and the two men. His voice, usually easygoing, had a sharp edge he rarely used outside of battle.
"Leave them alone."
The men paused, surprised by his sudden move. Their bravado returned quickly, their expressions turning nasty.
"Oh, what's this?" the first man scoffed, his tone mocking. "You think you're tough, kid? Trying to be a hero?"
Nijika's vermilion eyes were wide with worry, her hand reaching out for Takuya's sleeve. Ryo, though still calm on the surface, subtly shifted her shoulder bag.
Takuya felt a surge of cold confidence. He wasn't afraid of these two. He met their aggressive stares, his own eyes hardening. They lost their usual soft brown color, taking on a new, almost predatory intensity.
Takuya grabbed the first man's shoulder, his fingers digging in with a strength he hadn't fully controlled yet. The man cried out, a sharp, choked sound. Takuya felt a slight crack as something in the man's shoulder gave way.
He released the man and spun to the second, his hand clamping down just as hard. Another cry. Another crack.
Easy, Takuya. Don't break them.
"Get lost," Takuya said, his voice a low growl. "And don't come near them again."
The two men faltered, their crude smiles falling away. A primal fear, cold and sharp, flickered in their eyes. They looked like they were facing something far beyond a normal high-school student. It was like looking into the eyes of a predator.
The men stumbled back, their faces pale.
"Sorry, man, our bad!"
"Didn't mean anything by it, honest!"
They mumbled apologies, turning to run down the street, not daring to look back. Nijika let out a shaky breath, then looked at Takuya with wide, relieved eyes.
"Takkun, that was… amazing!" she said, her voice still a little wobbly. "Thank you!"
Ryo gave a rare, genuine nod of appreciation.
"You handled that well," she said, her usual deadpan tone softening a fraction.
Takuya felt the lingering fire of his resolve, a warmth spreading through him.
"I'll always protect you two," he told them, the words coming from a deeper place than he expected. He meant it completely. He knew the world was far more dangerous than they realized, filled with threats much worse than these two punks. He would not let anyone harm the people he cared about.
Nijika's face flushed red, and Ryo's cheeks took on a faint pink hue. They looked at each other, then back at Takuya, before Nijika cleared her throat.
"We should probably keep going," Nijika said, her voice a little too high.
Ryo nodded, her cheeks still a little pink. They both tried to act normal.
It's fine.
Takuya glanced around, checking the street. The men were long gone. He gave a small, confident smirk.
***
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