Chapter Text
Ena didn’t say a word at first—just grabbed Akito by the wrist and dragged him toward the back room, muttering something under her breath. The door closed behind them with a decisive ‘click’.
That left the rest of the cabin in silence.
Toya stood there, still looking faintly out of place, fingers brushing the edge of his cloak.
Across the room, Mafuyu lifted her gaze.
Their eyes met. There was a long, heavy pause between them.
“…Ah,” Toya said quietly, formal even. “Asahina-san.”
Mafuyu blinked.
She remembered him standing beside the throne, sharing the same fate as her—having to deal with royal business sheerly because of their birth status.
She remembered bowing.
“Your Highness,” she replied automatically.
It was instinct—one carved too deep into her bones to suppress, even after 4 years.
Toya blinked. His breath caught, and his shoulders tensed.
“…Please don’t call me that,” he mumbled. “Not anymore.”
Mafuyu’s eyes flickered, the faintest trace of surprise ghosting over her face. Then she nodded once, slow, her expression unreadable.
Silence again.
He didn’t look away. It wasn’t recognition that pinned his attention to her, but the contrast—the faint, dull look in her eyes.
Before, Asahina Mafuyu had been the one person at court who never looked directly at him, only through him, all perfect and distant smiles.
Now she sat there, hair falling freely over her face instead of being tied back, eyes that seemed to have more relief from having stopped pretending 24/7.
“You look…” he started, then stopped himself. Too rude. Too personal.
Mafuyu tilted her head slightly. “Different?”
He hesitated, then nodded.
“...You could say that.”
On the other side of the room, Mizuki leaned closer to Kanade. “Oooh, looks like they they know each other—”
Kanade nodded. “Seems like it.”
Meanwhile, Toya and Mafuyu still hadn’t moved. They weren’t saying much, but the silence between them felt like a conversation on its own.
Mizuki shifted, glancing between them. “Okay, this is getting kinda heavy. Do we… like, offer tea or something?”
Kanade didn’t answer, still watching them with that quiet, unreadable focus she always had when observing people.
It was Mafuyu who broke eye contact first. She turned her gaze toward the window, where rain was beginning to patter softly against the glass. Her reflection looked back at her—dim, hollow, a faint echo of the girl she once was.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” she murmured after a long pause. “If they find you, it won’t just be you they take.”
Toya’s voice was steady when he replied, but there was a faint tremor beneath it. “I know.”
“Then why?”
He glanced toward the closed door where Akito and Ena’s voices were muffled behind the wood.
“…He found me first.”
Something about the way he said it made Mafuyu’s gaze soften for the briefest second.
“Of course he did,” she said, almost under her breath.
Then silence again.
The fire crackled, rain tapping against the roof, and for a moment, the cabin felt like a place suspended outside time—where the lost and the broken gathered, pretending they weren’t.
When the door finally opened again, Ena’s voice carried before she even stepped out.
“Akito, seriously—”
She froze mid-sentence when she saw the two still staring at each other from across the room.
“…What did I miss?”
Mizuki grinned immediately. “Oh, just some royal reunion. No big deal.”
Akito groaned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean—”
But Ena wasn’t listening. Her eyes darted between Toya and Mafuyu, the realization setting in all over again.
She pinched the bridge of her nose.
Toya adjusted quite well over the next month.
Well—as well as you’d expect someone who has a hard time understanding social cues or unspoken rules.
He still moved quietly, still too uptight or formal at times, and his expression still pretty unreadable. But he’s slowly gotten more comfortable around them.
That morning, Mizuki stretched lazily across the couch, yawning as she flipped a coin in the air. It landed on their palm with a soft ‘clink’
She grinned. “Well, well, looks like today’s your lucky day, Toya-kun.”
Toya blinked. “Lucky?”
“Yup!” Mizuki said cheerfully. “Cooking duty.”
He blinked again. “…Me?”
“Mm-hmm! Everyone takes turns.” Mizuki gestured toward the small chore board nailed to the wall.
He froze. “Ah… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Ena, who had been sketching nearby, looked up at the tone of his voice. “Why not?”
Toya looked away, expression sheepish. “…Because I don’t know how.”
There was a pause.
Ena raised a brow. “What do you mean?”
He hesitated, fingers fidgeting against his sleeve. “My father didn’t… allow me to do stuff. He said I needed to keep my hands unharmed for piano and violin practice. Anything else was… unnecessary.”
The room went quiet.
Mizuki slowly lowered the spoon they were spinning in their fingers. “…He really said that?”
Toya nodded, the movement small, careful.
Mizuki leaned closer to Ena, whispering, “Enanan, can we kill the king next? Please?”
Ena gave them a flat look. “No.”
Mizuki pouted. “Aw man”
But the moment passed quickly; Ena straightened, brushing off her skirt. “Alright then. Guess we’ll teach you.”
Toya blinked. “You don’t have to—”
Mizuki waved a hand. “Nonsense. Everyone learns here. Consider it part of your initiation.”
And before Toya could protest again, they’d already dragged him toward the counter.
Akito, who had been tending to the stove, glanced up just long enough to see what was going on before sighing. “Oi, Mizuki, if you burn something again—”
“Relax!” Mizuki said. “I’m just teaching our new friend basic life skills. You should be thanking me.”
Akito scoffed, turning back to the pan. “Yeah, sure.”
Ena pulled a basket of vegetables forward, setting it on the table. “Alright, first lesson—picking which ones are actually edible.”
Mizuki leaned on the counter, grinning. “Rule number one! If it moves—don’t eat it.”
Toya blinked, unsure whether they were serious. “Does that happen often?”
“Only once!” Mizuki chirped.
Ena pinched the bridge of her nose. “Twice. It happened twice.”
They spent the next half-hour going through ingredients. Ena was actually quite patient, and Mizuki chimed in occasionally with the kind of advice that was somehow both unhelpful and made you question if they were serious or not.
When it came time to chop the vegetables, Toya stared down at the knife in his hand for a long moment.
His reflection shimmered on the blade.
Ena noticed. “You alright?”
He swallowed. “I just—haven’t used one before. Not like this.”
She stepped closer, her voice softer now. “Here.”
She placed her hands over his lightly, guiding his grip. “Don’t hold it too tight. Just steady.”
He nodded, focusing on the motion as she helped him slice the pepper. The blade slid cleanly through, and when he managed to do the next cut himself, his eyes widened a little in surprise.
“Ena-san, Akiyama—I did it!” he said, turning to them with a spark of child-like excitement that neither of them had expected to see.
Mizuki clapped dramatically. “Look at you go!”
Ena couldn’t help smiling. “Good job, Toya-kun.”
He turned toward the stove, eager to show Akito.
Ena called out teasingly, “Akito! Aren’t you going to pay attention to Toya-kun?”
Akito looked up from stirring the soup, confused. “Huh? Oh—uh, yeah, what’s up?”
Toya held up the cutting board proudly. “Akito, look! I did it!”
Akito stared, processing the words—and then, to Mizuki and Ena’s surprise, his expression softened. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Ahaha—good work Toya.”
It was simple, quiet, but something about the way he said it made Toya’s chest tighten in a way he didn’t fully understand.
Ena and Mizuki exchanged a look.
Mizuki mouthed ‘oh yeah that’s gay’
Ena didn’t disagree.
By the time dinner was done, Toya had managed to help with nearly every part of it—chopping, stirring, seasoning. It wasn’t perfect, but when they all sat down to eat, it was still pretty good.
He watched as Mizuki teased Akito over who burned the onions, as Kanade and Mafuyu quietly ate (to which Toya has learnt Asahina-san couldn’t taste when Ena put a bit more spices in hers).
When Ena caught him smiling faintly to himself, she didn’t say anything.
The forest had long settled into its calm rhythm when Toya wandered out toward the river.
The morning air was cool, the sun’s rays not very aggressive yet. He liked it out here.
But as he neared the riverbank, another rhythm joined the usual sounds in the forest—a voice.
Akito’s voice.
It was rough around the edges, not polished like the classical music Toya was trained to admire, but warm.
It made Toya stop where he stood.
Akito sat near the river, legs crossed, flicking small stones into the water.
Toya’s chest felt… warm. A strange kind of ache pulsed in it, something more admiration.
He didn’t mean to intrude, but before he could back away, Akito turned—and froze.
“Shit—sorry, dude! Didn’t see you there,” Akito blurted, his cheeks going pink as he scrambled to his feet.
Toya blinked. “No, I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t mean to overhear.”
Akito scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting away. “That really wasn’t anything worth hearing.”
Toya stepped closer, curious. “Do you sing often?”
“Nah,” Akito shrugged, tossing another stone. “Just a hobby. Helps pass time, y’know?”
“Ah, I see…” Toya’s voice trailed softly, his gaze following the ripples where the rock skipped then sank.
Then Akito turned to him again, something flickering in his eyes. “Hey, Toya—say, would you like to try singing together?”
Toya blinked, startled. “…Huh?”
“Just—try!” Akito grinned.
Toya hesitated, but he couldn’t reject the offer. Slowly, he nodded. “Alright.”
So they sang. Nothing complicated—just a simple melody Akito hummed first, one that Toya picked up instinctively.
It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t need to be. It was so unlike the rigorous perfection that had been drilled into Toya’s head since childhood.
For Toya, it felt like something deep inside him uncoiled.
Akito’s voice wasn’t flawless, but it carried something Toya had never learned from sheet music. Warmth. It made his pulse quicken and his chest feel tight, though not necessarily in a bad way.
He liked this.
He liked Akito’s voice.
He loved Akito’s voice
He loved… Akito—?
Love?... I’ll have to ask Akiyama about that later.
When the song faded into silence, Toya looked over at the other boy and smiled softly.
“Akito… that was amazing.”
Akito rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. “Dude, seriously, it’s nothing,” he mumbled, his face red.
Toya smiled softly, the corners of his mouth turning up. “It was wonderful.”
Akito groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Don’t say stuff like that with a straight face!”
When Akito finally stopped furiously blushing and stopped covering his face, Toya asked him. “Akito… could you teach me how to skip stones?”
Akito blinked, caught off guard. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face. “Heh—yeah, sure.”
He crouched beside Toya, showing him how to hold the stone, how to angle his wrist, how to flick just right so the rock skipped across the water. Toya followed his instructions with almost childlike focus, biting his lip every time the stone plopped instead of skipping.
And when one finally did skip—once, twice, three times, before splashing into the water and sinking. He turned to Akito, eyes bright. “Akito! I did it!”
The joy in his voice made Akito freeze for a heartbeat, then his grin softened into something gentler.
The faint sound of strings met Toya before he even stepped into the clearing.
The melody seemed to drift through the forest, almost blending with the quiet rustle of leaves and the soft hum of insects in the late afternoon air.
When he rounded the bend, he saw her.
Kanade sat near the base of a tree. A harp rested against her knees, and beside her lay a stack of worn papers filled with inked staves and scrawled notations.
Her fingers moved lightly across the strings, pausing every few moments to frown, adjust a note, and hum softly to herself.
Toya stood still for a moment, not wanting to interrupt. But curiosity tugged at him—music always did. Even now, when it no longer weighed on him like a chain, it still called to him, gently but insistently.
When she paused, he finally spoke. “That piece… was it in E-flat minor?”
Kanade turned, startled. Her usually distant eyes widened just slightly. “You… have perfect pitch?”
Toya nodded hesitantly. “Yes. I suppose I do.”
For a moment, Kanade just stared at him, and then she smiled softly. “It’s good to know someone else here has it too.”
She patted the patch of grass beside her. “Would you like to sit?”
Toya nodded again and joined her, folding his legs beneath him. Up close, he could see how precise her notations were—pages upon pages of careful handwriting, crossed-out bars, and little notes scribbled in the margins. It felt… familiar.
She handed him a piece of parchment. “I’m working on something. I thought it’d sound better on strings, but the melody keeps falling flat.”
He scanned it quickly, tracing the rhythm with his fingers, already hearing the notes in his mind. “May I?”
She nodded.
He hummed through the opening phrase, adjusting one or two notes instinctively, and when he finished, Kanade’s eyes lingered on him for a long moment before she gave a faint nod. “You’re quick. You understand structure right away.”
Toya looked down, almost embarrassed. “I used to study music theory a lot. But only the classical kind. I… never learned how to make something of my own.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Kanade said simply.
They spent the next few hours together, the world around them fading to quiet. Kanade explained how she layered melodies. Toya listened closely, following her words, trying, failing, then trying again.
And each time he did, he got better. Music didn’t feel like a demand—it felt more like discovery.
Kanade listened to one of his compositions, her expression unreadable. Then she said softly, “Some of your pieces sound… dead. Like they’re built from logic, not feeling.” She paused, eyes flickering with something almost like an apology. “But others sound freer. More alive. That’s good.”
Her words stung, but not cruelly—they were honest, and they made sense. Toya nodded. “I’ll keep trying.”
Kanade smiled faintly. “You’re doing fine.”
As the day slipped into evening, the sunlight dimmed into a soft golden glow. The forest around them turned quiet, the air cooler. Kanade looked up from her papers, suddenly remembering. “Ah. It’s my turn to cook tonight.”
She gathered her sheets and harp, dusting off her skirt. “We can continue tomorrow, if you’d like.”
Toya stood up as well, brushing off his hands. “I’d like that,” he said. Then, after a small pause, he added, “Thank you, Yoisaki-san.”
Kanade turned slightly, glancing back at him. “You’re welcome, Aoyagi-kun.”
Then they walked back towards the cabin, Kanade holding her harp and sheet music.
The forest was silent that night. A few lanterns hung from the trees, the ones the Shinonome siblings had put up years ago but needed maintenance every once in a while.
Mizuki leaned against a trunk, hands tucked into their coat pockets, idly humming to themselves as they scanned the shadows. Patrol was always boring, but at least it was peaceful—no beasts, no nobles, no chaos.
Just trees, the whisper of wind, and their own thoughts.
Then, faint footsteps.
They turned, half-ready to tease whoever couldn’t sleep again, only to see Toya approaching. His cloak draped over his shoulders, hood half-pulled down. His expression was calm as ever, though there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.
“Could I… come with you tonight?” he asked quietly.
Mizuki tilted her head. “You’re volunteering for patrol? Didn’t peg you as the type, Toya-kun~”
He looked away. “I wanted to talk.”
Oh now this sounds serious.
Mizuki raised a brow but shrugged, adjusting her lantern. “Sure, sure. Let’s walk.”
They started along the narrow trail, boots brushing against fallen leaves. The faint glow from the stones wrapped them both in a soft haze, light bouncing against the mist.
For a while, they said nothing. Toya’s gaze stayed fixed on the ground, deep in thought, while Mizuki occasionally kicked a pebble or hummed to fill the silence.
Finally, Toya broke it.
“Akiyama.”
“Hm?”
“I need to ask about something.”
His tone was careful, the kind that suggested he wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking about. Mizuki slowed her pace slightly, curious. “Shoot.”
Toya hesitated, trying to gather the right words. “When I’m around Akito… I—” He stopped himself, brow furrowing. “It feels strange. My chest gets tight. My hands… shake sometimes. But not from fear.”
He frowned, gaze turning thoughtful. “And when he smiles, it’s… warm.”
Mizuki blinked.
Then, slowly, a grin stretched across their face. “Oh my god.”
Toya looked alarmed. “What?”
Mizuki laughed—startling a few birds from the nearby branches. “Oh, Toya-kun, you’re adorable! That’s love! You’re in love with Lil’ Bro!”
Toya froze mid-step, his ears and cheeks flushing faintly pink. “L—love?”
“Yes, love!” Mizuki swung the lantern playfully. “You know, the heart-fluttering, stomach-twisting, can’t-stop-thinking-about-them kind of thing. Classic romance symptoms.”
Toya looked completely lost. “That’s… what that is?”
“Oh my god, you really didn’t know?” Mizuki stopped walking, leaning forward to squint at him. “You’re down bad for him, huh?”
Toya averted his gaze. “I… don’t know what to do with that.”
“Do nothing,” Mizuki said breezily. “Just let it happen. You’re not gonna explode from feelings, promise. Though I am gonna tell Ena you had the most innocent crush realization in the history of—”
“Akiyama.”
“Okay, okay, I won’t.” She grinned again, softer this time. “But seriously, Toya-kun, that’s sweet. Akito’s… been pretty lonely. Like sure—he lives with 4 awesome people, but the 4 of us were a thing and he was almost always fifth wheeling.” they explained
“But then you came and well, it’s pretty easy to see.”
Toya blinked at them, expression unreadable, but his cheeks were still faintly colored. “I see.”
They kept walking, the forest around them filled only with the rhythmic crunch of their boots and the faint hum of illusion stones.
After a while, Toya spoke again. “Akiyama.”
“Hm?”
“I wanted to ask… about the horns.”
Mizuki stopped.
The light from the lantern flickered faintly, brushing against the curve of their own horns, one full and one small nub. Her expression froze for a moment before they sighed.
“That’s… supposed to be a secret, you know.”
Toya blinked, confused. “Oh. I didn’t mean to pry—”
“No, no, it’s fine.” Mizuki waved a hand, though their tone was careful now, deliberate. “It’s just that, well… everyone in the cabin already knows. It’s not exactly something I hide from them anymore.”
Toya tilted his head slightly, watching them. “Then why not tell me?”
Mizuki hesitated.
Because if she told him, he’d know. He’d put two and two together—he was too smart not to. And then he’d figure out about Akito.
And she’d rather eat an entire bowl of poisonous mushroom stew than be the one to out Lil’ Bro like that.
Finally, she exhaled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Tell you what, Toya-kun. If you’re curious, ask Lil’ bro about it.”
He blinked. “Akito?”
“Yeah.” Mizuki smiled faintly, a little too calm, a little too knowing. “Tell him I said it’s alright for you to know if he seems unsure. He’ll understand.”
Toya looked at her for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly. “Alright. I’ll ask him.”
Mizuki smiled again, turning back toward the path. “Good! Now let’s get back to patrolin’!
Ever since Toya started living with them, he’s slept in Akito’s room. It was basically a no-brainer to have him sleep with the only other guy in the household.
One night, sometime past 25:00, Toya lay awake on his futon, eyes tracing the ceiling above him.
Across the room, Akito was facing the wall, virtually doing the same as him—though his foot kept twitching beneath the blanket.
“...Akito,” Toya said softly, turning his head toward him.
Akito hummed, not looking over. “Hm?”
“I wanted to ask you something.”
That got his attention. Akito shifted slightly, one arm folded behind his head, the other resting across his chest. “You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” he said, half-teasing.
“Akiyama told me to ask you this time.” Toya said.
Akito groaned. “That can’t be good—alright. What’s it about?”
“Our horns,” Toya said quietly.
The room fell silent for a heartbeat.
Akito froze where he lay, gaze flicking up toward the ceiling. His hand, almost unconsciously, rose to touch one of his horns—the smooth, curved surface catching the faint light from the window.
“...She told you to ask me about that, huh.”
Toya nodded.
For a long moment, Akito didn’t say anything. Then, finally, he muttered, “D-don’t… don’t hate me, okay?”
Toya’s brow furrowed immediately. He pushed himself up, sitting cross-legged on the futon. “What could possibly make me hate you?”
Akito let out a huff, sitting up as well. “It’s stupid. I’ve just… never really talked about it.”
Toya waited.
“Our horns,” Akito said at last, voice quiet. “They’re based on… birth gender. Two full ones for people born female. One full and one nub for people born male.”
Toya blinked slowly, his mind piecing it together, the memory of what Mizuki had said slotted into place and made perfect sense now. His gaze softened, understanding.
“You’re…”
Akito nodded, cutting him off gently. “Yeah. I wasn’t born a guy. But I am one now. That’s all that matters.”
“I figured it out early on,” Akito continued, voice somewhat distant. “Did some research when it was just me and Ena. Found out the horns are tied to shame—what you hide, what you fear being seen for. Guess that makes sense, huh?”
His eyes were fixed on the ceiling. “Probably not something I should care about, but…” he trailed off when he felt movement.
Toya had gotten up, crossing the space between their futons. Akito barely had time to register it before Toya sat down beside him—and without hesitation, wrapped his arms around him.
Akito stiffened, eyes wide. “Wha—Toya—”
“Don’t say that again,” Toya said quietly, his voice firm in the way it only was when he meant every word. “Don’t say I could ever hate you. You’re you, and I don’t have a say in that—”
The words hit deeper than Akito expected. His breath hitched, and for a moment he just sat there, stunned. Then, slowly he lifted his arms and hugged Toya back.
“...You’re too nice sometimes,” he muttered, voice muffled against Toya’s shoulder.
Toya smiled faintly. “Maybe. But I mean it.”
When morning came, Toya was surprisingly the first to wake. He stretched, quietly folding up his futon before stepping into the main room. Mizuki was already there, lazily perched on the counter.
Toya approached, rubbing at his eyes.
“I asked him,” he said simply.
Mizuki looked up over the rim of the cup, blinking before a slow grin spread across her face. “So you know now.”
Toya nodded. “I do.” He hesitated, then added, “But it doesn’t change anything. I don’t care what gender either of you were born with. You’re both who you are now. That’s all that matters.”
For a moment, Mizuki said nothing. Then she smiled. “You really are something, Toya-kun.”
He only tilted his head, unsure if that was praise or amusement. Probably both, knowing her.
The quiet moment didn’t last long, though. From behind, the floor creaked and Akito shuffled in, clearly half-awake, muttering something about needing some coins for when he goes to the market in a nearby village later.
He made his way over to the drawer Mizuki was leaning against.
“Move,” he grumbled, lightly smacking her with the back of his palm before reaching past her.
Mizuki smirked, reaching out to ruffle his hair instead. “Hehe. Proud of you, Lil’ Bro~”
“Oi—!” Akito swatted their hand away, face flushing faintly. “Cut it out!”
Mizuki just laughed, hopping off the counter. “You’re welcome~”
Akito glared at her, then sighed and looked at Toya—who, of course, was watching quietly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“...Don’t say anything,”
“I wasn’t going to,”
The midday light poured softly through the curtains of Mizuki and Mafuyu’s room, the light catching against tiny beads and silver wires scattered across the floor.
Ena sat cross-legged, carefully threading a thin chain through a small glass charm, then into a pretty lapis bead. Mafuyu was helping sort the materials, her movements neat and precise, while Mizuki lounged beside them, adding ribbons and other decorations made the jewelry prettier. The atmosphere was calm…
Until the door flew open.
Akito stood there, hands gripping the frame. “I need help—” he blurted out, startling all three. “I think I like Toya—like, romantically.”
Silence.
Ena froze, almost dropping the bracelet she was working on. Mafuyu blinked once. Mizuki stared for two seconds before they burst into laughter.
“Oh my god, you’re only realizing now?!” Mizuki cackled, clutching her stomach. “This is priceless—hold on, let me—”
She wheezed, to the point she fell over and was lying down on the floor. ”Mafuyu, did you hear that? He just noticed!”
“I heard,” Mafuyu replied flatly. She looked at the ginger haired boy, then deadpanned, “You’ve just realized?”
Akito groaned and dragged his hands down his face, cheeks turning bright red. “Don’t—don’t make fun of me, okay?! I just—I don’t know, it hit me all of a sudden and I panicked!”
Ena snorted. “You’ve ‘just realized’? Akito, you’ve been basically magnetized to him since you brought him home”
“Shut up!” Akito snapped, voice cracking just slightly. “It’s not that simple, okay? He’s—Toya’s… he’s… I don’t know—I don’t wanna screw it up.”
Mafuyu tilted her head slightly. “Then don’t.”
Akito blinked. “That’s... not advice.”
Mafuyu gave a tiny shrug, setting down a bead. “You already care about him. Just be honest about it. It’s not complicated.”
Ena gave an amused sigh, reaching over to pat his arm. “Look, she’s right, in her weird way. Just don’t overthink it. You’re both idiots, but you’re good idiots.”
Mizuki added, still smirking, “I agree with Enanan~ you two are basically dating already, aren’t you?”
Akito’s ears went pink. “Wh—what is that supposed to mean?!”
“Exactly what it sounds like.”
Ena chuckled, leaning back. “She’s right though. You and Toya-kun fit together. You balance each other out. Just don’t hide how you feel, alright? If you like him, let him see that.”
Akito’s gaze dropped to the floor, his voice softer now. “You really think I should tell him?”
Mafuyu nodded. “You should. He’d want to know.”
Mizuki reached over and ruffled Akito’s hair with a grin. “Look at you, all grown up and having gayass feelings. I’m so proud—”
“Oi—!” Akito swatted their hand away, but the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.
“Seriously though,” Ena said, her tone gentle now, “it’s okay to be nervous. But Toya cares about you, Akito. You don’t need to worry about him judging you or pulling away.”
Akito looked around at them—Ena’s steady, sisterly warmth, Mizuki’s teasing grin softening into something genuinely supportive, and Mafuyu’s quiet, knowing calm. His chest felt lighter than before.
He exhaled, finally smiling. “Yeah... yeah, I can do this.”
“You got this Lil’ Bro! Don’t forget to tell us how it goes,” Mizuki chimed, winking. “I want details~”
Akito groaned, half-laughing as he turned toward the door. “No promises—!”
As he slipped out, Mizuki giggled to themselves.
Ena watched the door with a fond smile.
And from down the hall, faintly, they could already hear Akito muttering to himself, before his voice disappeared behind the door leading outside, where the sun was just beginning to set.