The door creaked open.
Shinichi stepped out into the softly lit hallway, dressed neatly in his school uniform. The blazer rested comfortably on his narrow shoulders, his collar pressed and clean, the crimson school tie knotted with care. A slim backpack was slung over one shoulder, swaying slightly as he moved.
His steps were light. His expression calm—almost glowing with an unspoken satisfaction. His cheeks still held a faint warmth, a gentle flush betraying the private release he had indulged in just minutes before. There was a strange, subtle shine in his eyes, the look of someone freshly unburdened.
It was rare, this kind of peace.
With a deep breath, he moved down the quiet corridor, his socks brushing softly against the wooden floor. He reached a sliding door, paused for a second, and gently pushed it open.
Inside was a small, solemn space. A tatami mat covered the floor, and a warm shaft of morning sunlight filtered through the paper screen, casting golden beams across the modest family shrine in the center of the room.
There, framed in quiet dignity, were photographs of those who had left him behind—his parents, his grandparents. Four serene faces smiling out from the past. Fresh incense sticks rested in a delicate holder, a faint curl of smoke rising upward, carrying prayers he could never say out loud.
He knelt.
The motion was fluid, practiced. He pressed his hands together in front of his chest, fingertips touching, head bowed low.
'Dad, Mom, Grandpa, Grandma… I hope you're all doing well in heaven.'
I miss you every day, he thought. There's so much I wish I could ask you… so much I want to tell you. But I know... you're always watching over me.
For a few long seconds, there was silence—broken only by the whisper of the wind against the house.
Then, all at once, his face grew warm again.
His lips twitched awkwardly as an all-too-recent memory returned unbidden. One that was very much not shrine-appropriate.
'But, um… I also hope you're not watching me all the time. Especially not when I'm… you know.'
His cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. He immediately shook his head, as if trying to fling the thought out of his skull.
"A-Anyway," he said aloud, flustered. "Even with all the weird stuff going on lately, I'm doing okay. Nothing I can't handle. So please… don't worry about me. I'll keep doing my best."
He paused, letting the quiet settle again.
"That's all. I've got to head to school now. Bye."
He opened his eyes slowly, and the warmth in them was real.
He stared at the photos for one more moment, letting a soft smile touch his lips—one that carried both affection and sorrow, as if he still half-expected one of the frames to blink back at him.
Then, rising carefully to his feet, he stepped out of the shrine room, sliding the door closed behind him.
In the kitchen, the familiar scent of his earlier cooking still lingered in the air. The bento box he had prepared sat neatly on the counter, wrapped in a cloth and tied with practiced precision. He picked it up and slid it into his bag.
Outside, the sky was clear and pale blue, the kind of morning that made the whole world feel softer than usual. The leaves rustled gently in the trees, and a chorus of cicadas sang in the distance.
Shinichi stepped out, locking the door behind him.
A new day had begun.
And though the warmth of his morning still lingered in his body, a part of him couldn't shake the feeling that today… something was going to change.