Chapter Text
Sakura woke to the delicious, comforting smell of breakfast wafting into her bedroom. She stretched, a sleepy smile gracing her lips as her gaze fell upon the engagement ring glittering on her hand. Hikaru and she were back together. They were still going to get married. After so much time filled with doubts and hurt, their paths were finally intertwined again, and her heart fluttered with an undeniable joy.
She glanced at the small alarm clock on the bedside table; it was almost 9 AM. Sitting up, she looked down the corridor, already imagining the blissful prospect of spending the entire day with Hikaru, since it was the weekend.
She pulled on a comfortable t-shirt and sweatpants from her wardrobe before stepping out of her bedroom. "Hi-chan, you made breakfast, thank you so muc..." Her words stopped. She looked around her apartment, and while a beautiful breakfast was indeed laid out on the table, Hikaru was nowhere to be found. "Hi-chan?".
She walked to the entrance area; his sneakers were gone too. Weird. But her grey eyes soon focused on a small note tucked near the food.
"Good morning, Sakura. I had to leave to sort something out. I'll call you later. I love you." It continued. "P.S: Ta-chan left you a message on the answering machine."
##################
"What time are you leaving again?" Hotaru asked Makoto, who was busy preparing scrambled eggs at the stove. Hotaru sat at the table, casually chopping fruit.
"Around 8 PM. I'll go to my place first to organize my things."
"I see," she smiled, "I'll prepare something nice for you to take for the road."
"You don't need to worry," he smiled back, "You're always cooking for me."
"And you're always cooking for me too," she countered playfully.
"When I come back, let's arrange a dinner with your parents and mine, like Minako-san asked."
"Sure! I still can't believe we finally talked to all of them. Even with Aki and Haru, I feel so relieved."
Their comfortable conversation was suddenly interrupted by a sharp knock on Hotaru's door, startling both of them.
"You're waiting for someone?" Makoto asked, his brow furrowed as he headed towards the entrance.
"Not really," Hotaru replied, a hint of confusion in her voice.
Another knock, this one a little more insistent, made Makoto pick up his pace.
"Yes?" he said, a polite smile on his face. The smile died instantly when he saw Hikaru standing in front of him. Hikaru's green eyes were gelid, like chips of ice, and he wore the most utterly blank expression on his handsome face. "Hi... Hikaru," was all Makoto managed to stammer, taking two hesitant steps backward, a cold dread rising from the sheer intensity of Hikaru's terrifying gaze.
The silence that followed was so deep, so unnerving, that the sound of Hikaru slowly closing the door after he stepped into his sister's apartment echoed ominously.
"What... what are you...?" Makoto could feel his heart pounding furiously against his throat.
"Hi-chan..." Hotaru's blue eyes were huge with shock, her voice a mere whisper.
Hikaru looked at his sister, then back at Makoto. Hotaru's cheerful voice from Sakura's answering machine, now fully understood in its devastating context, echoed back into his mind.
They were both wearing pajamas, a true display of a familiarity and closeness that went far beyond what was expected for a best friend and someone's little sister. The comforting smell of food and the undeniable coziness of the atmosphere made it painfully, sickeningly obvious to Hikaru that he had just interrupted a couple's intimate morning breakfast, a domestic scene that felt like a stab to his own heart.
"How long?" he asked, the words forced out, his voice stripped of all warmth.
Even though Hikaru was built like a wall of muscle, a gentle giant to them, both Makoto and Hotaru suddenly didn't recognize the man standing before them, his eyes blazing with a raw anger that was so profound it hurt to look at, intertwined with a deep, visible disapointmnet that twisted his handsome features.
"Hi-chan, please, we..."
Hotaru's attempt to start explaining died in her throat as Hikaru lunged forward. He grabbed Makoto's shirt, twisting the fabric so hard his knuckles turned white, and slammed him against the wall. Makoto's feet almost lifted off the ground.
"How long have you two been together?!" Hikaru demanded, his voice a low, dangerous growl as he stared into Makoto's fear-stricken dark brown eyes.
"HI-CHAN!" Hotaru's voice was sharp with panic as she darted towards them. She grabbed the back of her brother's shirt, tugging desperately, futilely, against his rigid frame. "Let him go!"
"How could you?!" Hikaru's voice ripped furiously through the air as he glared into Makoto's face. "We grew up together, you were there when she was born, she's my baby sister!"
Hikaru's hands tightened like iron vices, squeezing the very breath from Makoto's chest, a sharp, agonizing protest in his ribs.
"You..." His voice was shredded, raw with disbelief and burning betrayal, as his green eyes, swimming with unshed tears, fixed on Makoto. "You were supposed to be my best friend, my brother! How long have you been lying right to my face?!"
Makoto's whole body was paralyzed. He could hear Hikaru's guttural accusations, the desperate, frantic sounds of Hotaru still trying to tear her brother away from him, but he couldn't move. He couldn't speak. It felt like his absolute worst nightmare had ripped itself from the shadows of his mind and was now brutally, viscerally, playing out before his horrified eyes.
"HIKARU, LET HIM GO!" Hotaru jumped between them, and her small hands were on her brother's chest; she had made herself a shield for her boyfriend.
"Ta-chan, be quiet!" he had finally looked at her.
"I WON'T!" Hotaru's voice was a raw, defiant cry, tears overflowing and streaming down her beautiful face. "Look at you! You're acting like a monster! Are you really surprised we didn't tell you anything?!" She was so much shorter and more delicate than he, yet Hotaru looked utterly fierce, her small frame vibrating with indignation. "If you want to be angry and scream at someone, do it with me! I was the one who fell in love with Ma-kun! I was the one who confessed first! He did nothing wrong. We are a pair of adults who love each other!" She sobbed, the sound tearing through the charged silence. "I've always loved him!"
The sheer, raw force of her emotions, the crushing weight of her confession, seemed to sap the strength from Hikaru's hands. His grip on Makoto's shirt finally loosened, and he stumbled backward, putting distance between them. A wave of profound pain washed over him, seeing his sister reduced to such desperate tears by his actions.
"We... we had always worried about you." Hotaru choked out, the tears now a full waterfall down her face, but she pushed through the sobs, desperate to make him understand. "You... are my brother. Of course, I wanted to tell you about us. I'm sorry we hid things from you, but..." She raised her head, her gaze meeting his, defiant. "I'll never apologize for our relationship," Hotaru declared, her voice cracking but firm, tears still streaming down her face. "I'll be with Ma-kun until the day he doesn't want me anymore!"
Makoto’s arms wrapped around Hotaru from behind, a protective embrace that even startled her slightly, pulling her back from the precipice of her rage.
“Ma…kun…” she whispered, her voice fragile.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing a soft, desperate kiss to the back of her hair. “Thank you for always protecting me. For protecting us.”
His dark brown eyes, now raw but resolute, finally locked onto Hikaru. As he took a hesitant step toward his best friend, Hotaru’s hand shot out, her fingers digging into his arm, a silent, desperate plea for him to stop.
“Makoto…”
“It’s okay,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle, a faint, reassuring smile gracing his lips as he carefully, slowly, released himself from her grip.
He stood directly in front of Hikaru now, the space between them humming with a dangerous, unspoken tension. There was no longer any hint of hesitation or fear in his heart. It felt as though all the guilt he’d carried over the last six months of hiding their relationship had simply melted away.
“Hikaru… I’m sorry,” he began, his voice low, earnest. He watched as his friend breathed like a caged bull, every ragged breath a visible struggle, his entire frame vibrating with suppressed violence. “I’m so sorry. I understand that you feel betrayed, but I can promise you it was never our intention to hurt you.” A single, defiant tear rolled down Makoto’s face. “I just… I love her. I love Ta-chan. I love Hotaru with all my heart.” He let out a shaky chuckle, a sound bordering on a sob, which only brought more tears. “You were there for every single one of my breakups. Every single one of my heartbreaks. And now, I’ve finally met the most perfect person in the entire world.” He roughly wiped his face with the back of his hand. “And I’m not giving up on her. I know you can snap every single one of my bones like a twig, but as long as I’m breathing, I’ll be with Ta-chan. We’re still the same, Hikaru… I’m your best friend, and she is your sister. Can’t you… please… just be happy for us?”
The only sound that answered him was the sharp, jarring crack of Hikaru’s retreating footsteps, each one an accusation, followed by the thud of the front door slamming shut.
########
"Here," Hikaru offered his sister a steaming cup of tea. They were back in his apartment, the long, silent ride having done little to ease the tension that still hummed between them. He'd given her clean towels and told her to take a warm bath while he cooked, since it was almost lunchtime.
"Thank you," she murmured, taking a slow sip of the warm, sweet liquid. Hotaru felt an incredible awkwardness in the kitchen. "I'm sorry I made you leave college."
"You shouldn't have come here," he said, stirring something that smelled incredibly good in a pot, his voice flat and devoid of its usual warmth. "Hokkaido's weather is hard, especially for someone from Tokyo. Even with all those clothes, you'd still get badly cold in such an open space."
"I'm sorry," she repeated, lowering her head, taking another drink from her cup.
"And aren't you missing class and work to be here?"
"I asked for a free day," she stated, placing the cup with a soft clink on the table. "I needed to talk to you. Things can't go on like this. Sa-chan said you haven't even talked to her properly. Aki and Haru, Mom and Dad—they're all worried too. You left my place and just told them you were coming back here with nothing else. You said you didn't want to talk about it'."
"I don't want to talk about it," he said, his voice and expression completely unbothered, though his jaw was subtly clenched. "I've told Sakura and my dads I still have things to solve here."
"Well, too bad. Because I'm not leaving here until we make up," she declared, crossing her arms, her small frame radiating defiance. "I'll ask for a leave of absence at school, and I'll probably lose my job, but you're more important to me than anything."
"Break up with him, then," Hikaru stated, his tone chillingly even, like chipped ice.
"I refuse." Hotaru's dark blue eyes were serious, unwavering, meeting his gaze with unyielding resolve. "That's the only thing I will never do."
"Okay." Hikaru calmly turned off the stove and went to pick up some small bowls from the upper cabinet. He poured the contents from the pot into a bowl and walked to the table, offering it to his sister with a spoon. "It's mushroom and beef soup. Your favorite."
Hotaru's annoyance, however fierce, melted instantly at the delicious, comforting smell of her brother's cooking. A fresh wave of emotion welled up, and she felt the familiar prickle of tears behind her eyes. Reaching out, she gently touched his hand as he placed the bowl down.
"You're the only big brother I've got," she began, her voice raw with vulnerability. "How are things going to be if you don't accept my relationship? Am I not going to be able to be in yours and Sa-chan's wedding? And what about family occasions? Are you not going to come because of me and Ma-kun? And... when you and Sa-chan have kids, I won't be able to meet them?"
"Don't be silly." he muttered, retrieving his hand, his gaze pointedly avoiding hers as he began to eat his own soup. "My issue is not with you."
"Ma-kun is your best friend." Hotaru pressed. "Can't you even call him by his name anymore?"
"Eat." he said, without looking at her, his voice tight with finality. "I don't want to talk about it, please."
######
The first sliver of dawn was just teasing through the curtains, painting the room in a soft, muted grey. Hikaru stirred, a groan escaping him as he shifted on the futon laid out on the floor. He opened his eyes, glancing up towards his bed. There, under the covers, nestled deep in the pillows, was Hotaru, sound asleep.
He watched her for a moment. Her breathing was soft, even, the kind of deep sleep that only comes from exhaustion. He thought about how utterly tired she must have been. A pang of something akin to guilt, mixed with a reluctant tenderness, squeezed his chest.
He carefully pushed himself up from the futon, his muscles protesting softly. He moved with a practiced quietness, placing the futon back into the wardrobe, picking up his jogging warm-up clothes, and going to the bathroom to change his pajamas. He dressed quickly, the familiar fabric a comforting weight against his skin. He glanced at Hotaru one last time, a silent apology in his gaze, before tiptoeing out of the bedroom.
The apartment was still cloaked in the pre-dawn quiet. Hikaru needed the cold air, the movement, to clear his head. He remembered the rest of their day. It had been monosyllabic and awkward. They just ordered pizza for dinner, and the silence between them was thicker than the crust.
When Hikaru reached the downstairs of the apartment building, the streets were still cold and empty, lined with silent, watchful buildings that seemed to hold their breath in the pre-dawn chill. The air bit at his cheeks, sharp and bracing, and the silence stretched, profound and unbroken, a temporary balm to the turmoil within him.
Then, before Hikaru could even begin his morning stretches, a furious shout ripped through the stillness, shattering it like glass.
"YOU!"
The orange-haired figure came running towards him at full speed. Before Hikaru could even fully register the voice and his mind could process the sudden, aggressive charge, Makoto was on him.
Makoto's dark brown eyes, usually warm and kind, were now narrowed, fixed on the green ones. He grabbed Hikaru by his jogging jacket and shoved him against the brick wall. Makoto’s jaw was clenched tightly.
"You made my girlfriend cry again!"