For years, home to me had been a small, brightly lit house located at the very end of a pleasant street lined with stalls selling flowers and sweets. Beige walls and large windows emitting golden light—walking in through that door was like walking into a warm cocoon with a hearth at its centre.

When hot air from the battered heaters finally touched my skin and sounds mixed with television static filled my ears, I knew I was safe. This was my place. And inside was my person.

"Baa-san, I'm home," I announce, clattering into the living room and dropping my books by the sliding door.

"Mm," my grandmother grunts from her chair, her fervent eyes glued to the old television I set up for her. "AND HIDEO ITAMI HAS SET FOOT IN THE Ring. ANY MINUTE NOW, WE WILL SEE IF HE CAN HOLD HIS GROUND AGAINST JAPAN'S FINEST." I roll my eyes and collapse on the floor mats next to her chair, wrapping my arms around her waist and letting my head fall against her side.

Hideo Itami is, according to my grandmother, the only competent pro wrestler of our inadequate generation. There's something about the spirit in his eyes, apparently, that warrants her approval.

When the referee blows his whistle, she begins anxiously muttering under her breath, and when a few seconds later, the rural wrestler's buff opponent knocks him off his feet, she lets out a disapproving shriek. "Up, boy!" she yells to the screen, then proceeds to release a string of unbecoming words, paying no heed to her grandson's presence in the room.

"Baa-san," I groan in an attempt to garner her attention. She ignores me and prattles on. "Your grandfather would have had him on his back in two seconds, you hear!? That meathead may be strong, but he's got nothing on—" 

"Baa-san~" I moan again, prodding her leg with my nose to distract her before she can launch into yet another story describing Ojii-san's conquests.

She sighs, exasperated, and tears her eyes from the grappling men on screen. "Yes, what is it?" she asks impatiently.

"I had a rough day," I murmur. The metal in her eyes immediately softens. "What happened? Whose tushy do I need to kick?" she demands, running her bony fingers along my hair.

I smile into her lap. "I'm not sure what high schools to apply for. I don't have much longer to decide."

"Oh, just pick any school, you'll be fine," she says dismissively.

"Baa-san!" I whine. "You know that's not true."

She scowls. "Of course it's true! You know why?"

"Because I have you?" I mumble.

"No, it's because you're a strong boy," she declares, her eyes flaring with pride.

"Stronger than Hideo Itami?" I ask, half-joking. 

"Why, yes. Stronger than Hideo Itami."

I slump against her and turn away, my lips folding into a pout. "You don't mean that."

No longer than a second after I say it, a fist flies into the air, lightly clocking me over the head. "Ow!" I cry sulkily.

"You know I never say things I don't mean!" When I don't answer, she gently touches my chin and tilts my face upward to meet my eyes. "You are stronger than anyone else I know, child, stronger than your mother ever was. And you are stronger still because you are loved, because I'll always be here to give you a good smack if you ever start talking like this again. Remember that."

The unsaid words hang in the air between us. I love you, child. I smile. "Okay."

"AND THAT WAS A SPECTACULAR TACKLE! IF HIDEO ITAMI KEEPS THIS UP FOR ANOTHER FIFTY SECONDS, HE'S GOT A REAL CHANCE!" Baa-san cackles. "Knew that one had it in him!" I grin, and as the golden light filtering in through the windows melts into silver, I whoop and cheer alongside her.

"Baa-san," I whisper now, kneeling before her smooth black gravestone as the scent of burning incense tickles my nostrils. It's cold, I register dimly as a chilly breeze howls past me, blowing my hair into my eyes. I run my fingers down the even surface of the rock, and it's icy to the touch.

We always had the unnecessarily high temperatures on our heaters to thank for a third of our electricity bill, so this cold will undoubtedly make her cranky. Then again, she probably isn't here, is she? "Baa-san," I murmur. "I'm having a rough day." A weak laugh escapes me. "Look at me, whining to a rock." You were wrong. I was never strong. I couldn't do a thing for you.

"But I will be." I place a bundle of fire lilies before her, and pressing my palms together, I close my eyes, muttering a silent prayer for her well-being.

I decided on the fire lilies because they remind me of her; the crimson flecks on the petals reminiscent of the flames of restless energy coursing through her eyes. Baa-san never had a favourite flower. She didn't care about flowers. She understood that eventually they would wither and be reduced to rot beneath our feet on the sidewalk. That their beauty is a fleeting thing—captivating and temporary.

"If you want to look at flowers all day, grow a field of them," She used to say. "Anything less is just a waste of time."

I stand up, brushing the dust off my knees. "Any word from him?"

My sister, who's been anxiously pacing the burial grounds, comes to a stop beside me and solemnly shakes her head.

"Alright, if you're done paying your respects, we can leave."

She lifts her phone to her chest and tightly clutches it there. She hasn't stopped looking at it since we got here. "He's probably just running late. M-Maybe his phone died, and that's why we can't reach him," she tries, desperate. "If we could just wait a little—"

He was supposed to be here two hours ago. "Nee-san, he's not coming." I'm not going to sit here waiting for someone who's never going to show up. Not again. Once was enough.

I clench my fists, fighting the rising memory of the time I spent on that hard bench in the dimly lit waiting room of the public hospital, utterly helpless, as in the next room, my grandmother took her last breath. It wouldn't have mattered if he had been punctual anyway, I remind myself. Despite being an adult, he would have been just as helpless as I was. He couldn't have afforded the surgery.

My father never made the most of his life. He spent too much of it admiring flowers. I start walking towards the exit, rigid body bracing against the cold wind. I won't be like him. I'd rather die than feel what I felt in that waiting room that day again—the helplessness, the frustration, the fear. I'll never let it get to that.

I'll never let anything bad happen to Nee-san.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

"The modern Japanese assignment needs to be turned in by next Monday. The rest of the worksheets are in the folder as well," my homeroom teacher supplies, and I accept the sheets from him, silently grateful. It's six in the evening already, but I was lucky enough to catch him when he was just about to leave.

"Sorry for the trouble, Sensei, but I was wondering if I could also borrow the teacher's copy of your notes for today's lesson."

"Of course." Sensei shuffles through some papers in his drawer before closing it with a disgruntled tut. "I seem to have misplaced them. Why don't you ask your friends instead? I'm sure they'll be more than happy to lend their notes to you."

Friends? "O-Okay."

Sensei gets to his feet and gives me a firm pat on the shoulder. "Keep up the good work, Akito," he says, before leaving me alone in the empty staff room.

With nowhere else to go, I wander the rapidly darkening hallways of my school. I suppose I could ask Rubi for her notes. She'll lend them to me, won't she? I can't think of anyone else to ask. I'm too tired to think. My muscles are sore from the journey, and admittedly, the things I've been remembering all day—the big things and all the insignificant little memories in between—have taken their toll on me.

"Akito!" I slowly stop walking and blink, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in the corridor, ensuring that they're not playing tricks on me. But it's so late.

I've instinctively drifted towards my classroom, and waiting outside is Rubi, the last of the sunlight reflecting off her trademark smile. Leaning against the wall beside her is Irina, her dark hair blending into the shadows. "Senpai told me you were coming," Rubi explains, moving closer, her voice deliberately delicate. Oh. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," I mumble, the response on my tongue before I can even ponder the question.

She caresses my arm, and for a long minute I just stand there with her, letting the simple, everyday sight of her sink in. Suddenly, every ache in my body becomes more pronounced, and the heaviness in my heart starts to overflow. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. The words come dangerously close to my lips. I want to tell her everything. I'm having a rough day.

I do my best to shove down the troublesome urges and try to focus on what I came here to do. "Since you're here...may I, um, borrow your notes?" I ask, clearing my throat.

"Sure, but I don't think you'll need them." She grins, and I slowly descend into a state of confusion. "A certain someone spent all day taking notes for you." She motions towards the classroom door. "He's been diligently waiting for you all evening."

I don't understand what she's saying right away, but when I do, the thoughts surging in my mind are momentarily silenced. The world goes mute. Ah.

Ren.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

A/N

The chapter length really got out of hand (｡ŏ﹏ŏ)