[POV: Kaori Aiba (Naoki's Mother)]
"Mom, you should have at least waited until Onii-chan finished his tea before saying that."
The moment the two of them left the living room, Koharu turned to me.
"I didn't expect him to be that surprised."
"Really, now?"
Under my daughter's steady gaze, I set down my glass. Across the table, Shiho-san covered her mouth, fighting back a laugh.
"Even Serina choked on her drink the exact same way."
Hearing that brought back the image of the two of them clutching their mouths in perfect sync.
My eyes met Koharu's, and smiles broke out naturally across our faces. Shiho-san was caught up in it as well, and the living room filled with the warm, overlapping sound of our laughter.
Once the laughter faded, I pulled Naoki's glass closer. A small puddle of barley tea remained at the bottom, the melting ice swaying quietly.
He had checked the clock countless times before noon. He had been fussing over his room since yesterday. And the moment he saw Serina-san at the front door, his tense expression had visibly relaxed.
He had certainly been nervous about meeting her parents for the first time. Even so, as his mother, I knew all too well who he had truly looked forward to seeing today.
While he was transparent about things like that, he would never utter a single word about what genuinely troubled him. That clumsy awkwardness hadn't changed since he was a little boy.
"Naoki-kun was genuinely caught off guard, wasn't he?"
Shiho-san chuckled, as though picturing the scene again.
"I was just so happy to know he talks about Serina at home that I couldn't resist asking."
"I was just as happy to hear that Serina-san talks about Naoki, too. Though I suppose we were a bit mean to tease them like that."
"Hmm? Just a bit?"
When Koharu chimed in from beside me, I nudged the plate of sweets in front of her.
My daughter took one with a giggle, wisely choosing to say no more.
Across from us, Kyoya-san's stern expression softened into a gentle smile as well.
I pictured the two of them sitting around the table just moments ago. When their voices overlapped, they had looked at each other in surprise before breaking into the identical smile.
I had always known a day would come when Naoki would bring a girl home.
Even so, seeing it with my own eyes was far more fluttering and disorienting than I had imagined. I was happy, yet felt a tiny prick of loneliness, which only made me want to tease him a little more.
As I set the pitcher of barley tea back on the table, Kyoya-san spoke in a calm, quiet voice.
"Does he tend to hide his pain even at home?"
His gaze settled on the seat Naoki had just vacated.
"He does. If I ask him directly, he'll answer, but if it only hurts a little, he rarely says anything on his own."
He would try to move naturally, only for his hand to freeze midway. Only then would I realize the injury was still bothering him.
Even when caught, he would put on an innocent face as if nothing were wrong.
Koharu neatly folded her candy wrapper into a tiny square and glanced between me and the couple across the table.
She seemed on the verge of speaking, but held her tongue, picked up her empty glass, and stood up.
"Mom, I'm going to head back to my room for a bit. Call me if you need anything."
"Alright. Thank you for helping with everything today."
Koharu gave a polite bow to the two of them. She looked back at me once by the door, and after I gave her a reassuring nod, she slipped out of the living room.
She had gracefully excused herself so the adults could talk freely.
Listening to her light footsteps—so distinctly different from Naoki's—I looked at the empty chair beside me.
We had put that girl through so much worry, too.
Ever since Naoki was discharged from the hospital, she had been fussing over him almost excessively—not merely out of a desire to dote on her older brother.
"Koharu-chan must have been worried sick that whole time, too."
"Yes. She talks back like that now, but while Naoki was in the hospital, she was heartbreakingly quiet."
Shiho-san rested her hands together in her lap.
Watching that gentle gesture, I lowered my eyes to my glass. The ice had almost entirely melted away, leaving a lone sliver bobbing on the surface.
"The day after the fire, when Naoki finally woke up around noon, the very first thing he asked about was Serina-san."
Shiho-san looked up, our gazes meeting.
"Even before asking about his own condition."
I could still vividly picture his face from that moment.
He had opened his eyes.
Just seeing that had rendered me completely speechless, yet right there in front of me, Naoki was desperately trying to confirm the safety of someone else.
Watching my son finally let his guard down once he heard she was safe, I had wanted to call out his name over and over.
You are right here, too.
All I was waiting for was for you to open your eyes.
"...That's just the kind of boy he is."
I had intended to say it with a light smile, but my lips refused to form the shape properly.
Shiho-san cast her eyes downward, and beside her, Kyoya-san let out a slow, heavy breath.
I gradually relaxed my grip on the cool glass.
"I don't mean to blame him for saving Serina-san. I am truly, deeply grateful that Serina-san is safe and sound. It's just as Naoki said earlier."
I had seen the look on their faces many times today as they watched over their daughter.
They hadn't lost their child.
Even without words, that raw emotion resonated with me completely.
It was the same for me. Looking at Naoki standing by the front door, I had reminded myself over and over that he had come back to the point where he could welcome guests into our home.
"I just wish he understood a little better that people worry about him, too."
Only then was I finally able to manage a faint smile.
Shiho-san didn't reply right away, giving a slow nod after a brief silence.
Outside the window, the cicadas buzzed relentlessly.
Muffled beneath the steady hum of the air conditioner, the three of us simply listened to their distant chorus for a time.
Whenever I watched Naoki put others before himself, there was one person I couldn't help but remember.
"Naoki putting himself second is a trait he inherited straight from his father."
Shiho-san's expression shifted slightly, and Kyoya-san looked at me attentively.
"My husband was the kind of man who couldn't ignore anyone in trouble, always thinking about himself only after everything else was taken care of. He passed away when Naoki was still in elementary school, but watching that boy, I'm constantly reminded of him."
He had been a kind man.
Though to sum him up with just that word overlooked far too many sleepless nights and worries during our marriage. Yet it was also true that I was genuinely proud of how readily he gave himself for others.
"Does Naoki-kun remember his father clearly?"
At Kyoya-san's question, I paused to think.
"He remembers our family outings and playing together. But he was so young back then, so I think much of it has grown hazy."
When he shared his memories with me, he would recall tiny details I had forgotten.
Conversely, there were milestones that felt like yesterday to me which Naoki had no recollection of at all.
Even living under the same roof and sharing the exact same moments, the traces left behind in our hearts weren't always the same.
"After my husband passed away, Naoki couldn't bring himself to go to school for a short time."
Shiho-san watched me with gentle concern.
I glanced toward the stairs once to make sure the door was shut, then continued.
"Once, he even vanished from the house without a word."
No matter how many times I shouted his name inside, there was no reply, and stepping outside into the street, he was nowhere to be found. Even now, the cold dread of all the strength draining from my body is something I will never forget.
Without the slightest clue where he might have gone, I searched every single place I could imagine him visiting.
And after checking several spots, I finally found my son.
I don't remember what I had planned to say to him. Perhaps I intended to scold him, or demand to know why he had run off without telling me.
Yet, the moment I saw that small, fragile face looking back at me, every word dissolved in my throat.
I have to bring him home.
At that moment, nothing else mattered.
"Why he left the house without saying anything... I couldn't bring myself to ask him back then. Once things had calmed down, I brought it up just once, but Naoki couldn't seem to put his feelings into words. I didn't press him any further after that."
Returning to a home without my husband was an ordeal I wasn't facing alone.
I think Naoki began to change bit by bit from that day forward. Around Koharu, he tried harder than ever to act like a dependable older brother, and he began telling me that everything was fine, no matter what. Whether he felt guilty for causing us worry, or felt he had to carry the weight of a fatherless home, I never truly knew.
Even though we saw each other every day and I cooked his meals, there were times I couldn't tell where my son had hit a wall.
I suppose I was simply running on empty, using every ounce of energy just to survive each day.
Looking down at my children sleeping peacefully beside me, I would breathe a sigh of relief that we had made it through another day unscathed. Tomorrow was a problem for tomorrow.
In time, Naoki began attending school again and gradually brought laughter back into the house.
He grew taller, his voice deepened, and before I knew it, he was casually reaching for items on high shelves that I could no longer reach myself.
He had become so reliable.
Yet, whenever I saw Naoki trying to shoulder every burden entirely on his own, my mind would drift back to the day he vanished.
"It started back then. Ever since that period, no matter how much concern I show him, he always insists that everything is fine."
I paused, turning my focus back to the two of them.
"...I'm sorry. I shouldn't be burdening you with old family history."
"Please, don't apologize."
Kyoya-san quietly shook his head.
"Thank you for sharing that with us."
He asked for no further details.
Shiho-san parted her lips as if to speak, but thought better of it and gently closed them.
Had I made them feel uncomfortable?
Just as a hint of regret crossed my mind, Shiho-san glanced toward the second floor.
"Today, long before we even left the house, Serina was checking the clock over and over."
Her tone was noticeably softer than before.
"I know she was nervous about whether she could properly express her gratitude. But it wasn't just that. She was genuinely, eagerly looking forward to seeing Naoki-kun again."
I nodded slowly at her words.
"...It was the exact same on our end."
When I answered, Shiho-san met my eyes with a warm, knowing smile.
My son had his secrets, things he kept from me.
I had no desire to pry into everything.
Still, when it came to the sweet little secrets like this morning's, pretending not to notice wasn't difficult in the slightest.
"He truly is a son who causes nothing but endless worry."
As I spoke, I gazed at Naoki's glass.
"Yet, he's also a son I couldn't be prouder of....Not that I have any intention of praising his recklessness this time, of course."
Kyoya-san nodded firmly.
He lowered his gaze in quiet contemplation for a moment before looking back up at me with resolve.
"Aiba-san. May I ask a favor of you?"
"Of course. What is it?"
"After this, would you permit me to speak with Naoki-kun in private?"
I blinked, taken aback by the unexpected request.
"What would you like to speak about?"
"Seeing the two of them interacting today, there was something that struck me deeply."
Kyoya-san paused, directing his gaze toward the stairs.
"I would like to share with Naoki-kun what we have observed, and how I feel about it as Serina's father."
I didn't know the exact specifics. Even so, judging by his composed voice and earnest gaze, I knew with absolute certainty that he had no intention of cornering or interrogating Naoki.
"Of course. I have no reason to object."
"I haven't asked Naoki-kun himself yet. Are you sure it's alright?"
"Naturally, you should ask Naoki directly in the end. But knowing that boy, I'm sure he'll be more than willing to listen to what you have to say."
"Thank you very much."
Kyoya-san bowed his head respectfully.
It wasn't that I wanted him to lose his gentle, self-sacrificing nature.
I just wanted him to learn how to let others help him, too. To say it hurts when he's in pain, and to ask for a hand when a task is too heavy to carry alone.
Whether it was Koharu or me, it didn't matter.
And I quietly hoped that, from here on out, he would gradually learn to show that vulnerability in front of Serina-san as well.
If the moments they spent laughing together simply increased from this day forward, that would be more than enough.
Suddenly, the faint scrape of a chair echoed from upstairs.
I looked up, instinctively straining my ears.
Across from me, Shiho-san was looking toward the ceiling as well. When our eyes met, soft smiles slipped out from both of us.
"Can't help but wonder, can we?"
"We really can't. But let's leave the two of them alone for just a little while longer."
With a light chuckle, I nudged the plate of sweets closer to them once more.
Silence settled over the second floor again.
I had no way of knowing what they were discussing up there.
As time went on, the things Naoki chose not to tell me would only continue to grow. The thought carried a small, quiet loneliness.
Even so, if the number of people in his life to whom he could confide those hidden burdens expanded, that was something to celebrate with far more joy than sorrow.
I finished the last sip of my barley tea, glanced once more at Naoki's empty chair, and returned my gaze to the couple before me.