Long story short, the fansite's up, running, and way more alive than any of us expected. What started as a quiet, lowkey page moderated by a single admin has turned into a thriving nest of almost two thousand registered members. I'm talking merch flying off the shelves, inboxes full of fan messages, art, memes, even a few overly enthusiastic love letters to senpai and of course, me. Yeah.
All that and we haven't even hit the first month, thanks to Akizuki-san's credit card. I mean, God bless rich people, right? Must be nice, having that kind of backup.
But still, here he is. Senpai, slouched behind the counter at Mokachino, apron on, face set in that usual expression like he's already regretting his life choices.
So I ask, "If you've got that kind of luxury at home, why the hell are you still busting your ass part-timing here?"
He doesn't even look at me at first. Just lets out a sigh, long and bitter, while his fingers work the espresso machine like it's the only thing in the world that makes sense.
"I wanna get away from here. That a problem?" he mutters, brows drawn in that way that means don't push it.
But of course, I do.
"I get that," I say, leaning against the counter, watching steam rise from the metal spout like it's trying to escape too. "But why not let your mom support you for a bit even after high school? Plenty of people do. My sister lived off our parents when she was in Nagoya. Didn't stop her from leaving."
He still doesn't meet my eyes. Just keeps moving—wiping the counter, pouring the espresso, pretending I'm not there. I almost think he's tuning me out completely… until he speaks again.
Low voice. Same tired tone. But sharper this time. "When I leave, I'm cutting off ties with everyone. That's the plan."
I blink.
There's something about the way he says it—flat, like a statement he's carved into stone. Not dramatic, not emotional. Just… final. And my face must've scrunched up without permission, 'cause suddenly my forehead feels tight. Probably frowning so hard I look like a wrinkled old man.
"Is it really that bad?" I ask, and honestly, it comes out quieter than I mean for it to.
He shrugs like he's said it a hundred times before. Maybe he has. Maybe I'm not the first to ask. "Things between me and Akizuki-san were never good. You've noticed, right? I never call her 'mom'."
Oh, right… now that he's pointed it out, it hits. He doesn't. Not once. Always "Akizuki-san", like she's some distant stage actress or an old teacher he forgot to thank. And Miura-san, who used to be his father, is like another name on a list of people he talks about like he's filing complaints, not memories.
There's something twisted up there. Something unsaid.
I lean back, watching him work. He keeps his world locked tight, every word filtered through a mouth that's learned silence as defense.
And yet… there's this itch inside me, this tug that won't let go. What really happened? What broke him like that?
I really, really wanna know.
The coffee shop is loud with machines hissing, people laughing, and cups clinking. But somehow, all that noise fades into static. Just background fuzz. Like someone hit pause on the whole damn world except for the spot where I'm standing, eyes fixed on senpai.
He's there behind the counter, steam rising around him like he's cooking up storms instead of coffee. And I don't know what comes over me. Maybe it's the way his jaw clenches every time I say something personal, or the way he never looks me dead in the eye for too long. But my mouth moves before my brain catches up.
"Was everything already bitter after your parents split?"
It slips out so casually it doesn't feel like I said anything heavy until I see the way he pauses. Just for a second, just long enough for me to notice.
Senpai's hand hovers over the espresso machine like he forgot what he was doing. But then, in true Morikita fashion, he snaps right back into motion, cool and unreadable, like nothing ever touched him. He places the finished drink on the counter without missing a beat, nodding for a waiter to grab it.
I think that's it.
He's gonna pretend I didn't ask, leave me hanging in awkward silence. Wouldn't be the first time. But once the nearby crowd thins out and we're left with this little bubble of space around the beverage counter, he looks at me.
His eyes meet mine. Sharp, guarded, but not completely shut.
"With Miura-san… it got worse after what happened with Horie Mio," he says, voice low. "But with Akizuki-san… it started before the divorce—a few months before, if I could remember. And whatever the reason was… I don't think I'll talk about it."
There's weight in that pause.
Senpai's giving me something; a crack in the door, but not enough to see inside. And whatever's on the other side is dark. Too dark, and too heavy to dump on someone like me.