The house is silent.
Mum and Grandma have gone to bed. The hallway lights are off. My room glows dimly in the moonlight, soft and pale through the shoji screen.
I lie curled on my side, hugging my pillow, the edge of my blanket pressed under my chin. My phone is off. I don't want messages. I don't want noise.
I want—
"...Dad," I whisper into the darkness. My throat tightens.
I miss the way he'd sit on the floor with his back against the couch, TV on low, scratching his neck while he counted coins from a pachinko win. I miss the lazy afternoons when he'd ask what kind of ramen I wanted and actually listen to my answer.
He was flawed. He was reckless. But he saw me.
A gust of wind brushes against the window.
And then—soft tapping.
Three light knocks.
I sit up slowly, startled. My breath catches as I tiptoe toward the window, sliding the frame open just a crack.
A face peeks in—upside down.
"Yo," Kaito whispers, hanging halfway off the tree just outside my room. "Thought I saw your light on."
My heart stumbles. "What the heck—?!"
"Shh!" he grins, swinging down and balancing on the ledge like it's no big deal. "You'll wake your grandma."
"You climbed a tree?!"
"You weren't answering your phone."
I blink, too stunned to respond.
"Can I come in?" he asks, more gently this time.
I step back wordlessly, and he climbs in like he's done it a hundred times.
Which, knowing him, he probably has.
"Who's the cat now?" I murmur, pushing back my blankets to make space for him. He smirks, but doesn't say anything else.
He sits beside me on the tatami, still keeping quiet. Just silence. Like he already knows tonight isn't for jokes.
I try to keep it in.
But I whisper, "I miss my dad."
Kaito nods slowly, resting his arms on his knees. "Yeah. I figured."
The silence that follows isn't uncomfortable. It's… steady.
After a moment, he lies back, arms folded behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.
"You know," he says, voice soft, "when I was little, I always thought your dad looked cool. Like the kind of guy who didn't care about what anyone thought."
I laugh, just a little. "That's because he didn't care what anyone thought."
Kaito smiles. "Still. You looked up to him."
"I did."
We lie there, side by side, not touching, but the space between us feels warmer than it did before.
The moon shifts in the sky.
"You ever feel like everything just… changed too fast?" I murmur.
"All the time," he replies.
I turn my head slightly. "So what do you do?"
He thinks.
Then smirks. "Climb trees."
I roll my eyes, but it makes me laugh.
"Idiot."
"An effective one," he says, tilting his head toward me. "You're smiling again."
I don't realize I am until he says it.
I press my palm to my cheek, caught off guard. "I didn't notice."
"I did." His voice is low. "I always notice."
And maybe it's the moonlight.
Or the quiet.
Or the way the room feels safe again.
But I close my eyes, letting the moment stay.
Letting him stay.