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Tanaka Ryuu never thought silence could be so loud.
It was the kind of quiet that pressed against his ears, ringing in the spaces where laughter used to be. Where the soft hum of his wife’s voice would have filled the kitchen as she made breakfast, where her laughter would have bounced off the walls when Yuu did something ridiculous, where even the sound of her breathing beside him in the dead of night had been enough to make the world feel right.
Now, there was just… this.
“Daddy, look!”
Ryuu blinked, pulled from his thoughts. He glanced over to where his son, Yuu, was standing on the couch, arms stretched out like wings. His five-year-old’s face was scrunched in concentration, messy black hair falling into his wide brown eyes.
“I’m flying! Like an eagle!” Yu announced before leaping off the couch with a dramatic flap of his arms. He landed with a thump, rolling onto his back with an exaggerated groan. Then, with a giggle, he sat up and grinned. “Didja see, Daddy? I almost made it that time!”
Ryuu huffed out something that was almost a chuckle. Almost. “Yeah, kid. Almost.”
Yuu beamed at him, but his little face faltered for just a second. A flicker of something too knowing for a five-year-old.
Ryuu knew Yuu was watching him. Always watching.
It should’ve been the other way around. He was supposed to worry about Yuu, making sure his son was okay. He had spent so many nights staring at the ceiling, stomach twisted with fear over how losing his mother would shape Yuu’s little heart. He should have been the strong one. The one holding things together.
But Yuu—his bright, stubborn, ridiculous son—held him together instead.
“Daddy, you’re sad again.”
Ryuu’s breath hitched. He opened his mouth, but no words came. What was he supposed to say? That he missed her so much that it physically hurt? That he still reached for her side of the bed some nights, only to be met with cold sheets? Every time he saw Yuu do something new—something she would have clapped for, kissed his forehead, and called him her little star—he ached with the weight of her absence.
He didn’t have to say it. Yuu already knew.
The little boy scrambled off the floor and marched over to him, determination in his steps. With all the seriousness a five-year-old could muster, he plopped himself into Ryuu’s lap, tiny hands grabbing at his face.
“Mommy always said that when we feel sad, we gotta find the happy things.”
Ryuu swallowed hard. “Yeah?”
“Yeah! Like, um, like how pancakes taste better when they have extra syrup. And how the sky turns pink at bedtime. And how your hugs are super strong—like a superhero!” Yuu threw his arms around Ryuu’s neck, squeezing with all his might. “See? Super strong.”
Ryuu’s chest tightened. His eyes burned, but for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t just from grief.
It was from love. From the tiny, fierce, unshakable love of the little boy in his arms.
He exhaled shakily, pressing his face into Yuu’s wild hair. “Yeah, buddy. Super strong.”
Yuu pulled back, grinning. “And another happy thing is that Mommy said spring always comes back! Even when it’s really cold for a long time.”
Spring.
She had said that. When they’d first told Yuu about her illness, when he had cried and asked if the sad days would last forever, she had knelt down, cupped his little face in her hands, and promised, "Winter is cold, but spring always comes back."
Ryuu closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the scent of Yuu’s shampoo.
Maybe he was still in winter. Maybe the cold still bit at his bones, still made him feel hollow on the worst days.
But Yuu was right.
Spring would come back.
And for now, he’d hold on to his son’s warmth until it did.