Three days had passed since Ayaka returned from Fukuoka with Makoto and Takeshi.
The city outside carried on — trains rolled by, vending machines sang their familiar tunes, the streets were busy as usual.
But inside Ayaka's apartment, time had stopped.
She hadn't left her bed since.
Her world was shrouded in silence.
Curtains stayed drawn, shutting out the morning light.
Shadows shifted across the walls in long, lethargic patterns as hours passed unnoticed.
Her blanket clung to her like a second skin, heavy and suffocating, and the air had gone stale — scented faintly of untouched miso soup and the wilting hydrangeas someone had left her before she vanished into herself.
She moved only when necessary — to the bathroom, or to force down a few spoonfuls of plain rice or toast.
Her appetite was a memory, like laughter, like light.
Somewhere under a pillow, her phone lay forgotten — though not silent.
Before she muted it, it had buzzed and chimed endlessly, filling the room with a desperate chorus of concern:
Kei: "Ayaka. Please, just tell us you're okay. Anything."
Kai: "You don't have to talk. Just open the door. I'll sit with you in silence if that's what you need."
Kazumi: "Ayakaaa. If you ghost me again, I swear I'll break into your place and tickle you to death. You hear me???"
Takeshi: "I know you're hurting, but shutting everyone out won't make the pain disappear. Let us help, even if you hate us right now."
Keiko: "We left your favorite miso curry and melon pan by the door. Don't let Kazumi eat it. He will. I saw him eyeing it."
Yuki: "I'll wait. No matter how long. But I'm still coming by tomorrow, and the day after that too."
She opened none of them.
Not even Kazumi's, whose voice usually made her laugh.
Not even Takeshi's, whose words always came like a quiet truth.
And still, some of them showed up in person.
She heard them — the hesitant knocks, the shuffling footsteps, the soft voices through the door.
"Ayaka? It's me again."
"We're all waiting for you."
"Please come out..."
"We love you..."
She would stare blankly at the ceiling, her body refusing to move.
Sometimes she pressed her hands over her ears until the world dimmed.
Sometimes she let the knocks echo unanswered until they stopped.
But one person didn't stop coming.
Makoto.
Unlike the rest, he didn't knock more than once.
He never tried to reason with her through the door or leave offerings on her doormat.
He simply waited.
Each morning, without fail, his car appeared across the street from her apartment.
He never called.
Never texted.
Never forced his presence.
He just waited.
From the gap in her curtain, she saw him sometimes — sitting quietly in the driver's seat, gazing up at her building as if willing the bricks to release her.
Other times, he sat on the hood, arms loosely draped over his knees, looking as still as a statue.
He didn't check his phone, didn't fidget or pace.
Just waited — like a silent promise she didn't deserve.
Ayaka noticed.
And she hated that she noticed.
She hated that part of her wanting to step outside and collapse into the warmth of the people who hadn't walked away.
But she couldn't.
Her heart was a tangled mess of grief and guilt and confusion.
Every breath felt like betrayal.
Every hour passed with the weight of unanswered questions — questions about Akihiko, about why he left, about whether she ever truly knew him at all.
Takeshi's words haunted her like a lullaby gone wrong. "He's not the man you thought he was."
Her hands clutched the blanket tighter.
She had spent every moment since his disappearance trying to decode the silence he left behind.
And now, with Makoto waiting outside and her friends trying to reach her, it felt like the world was asking her to move forward when she hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye.
She didn't want to be strong.
She didn't want to face anyone.
She just wanted to disappear a little longer.
So she closed her eyes, pulled the blanket over her head, and let the day slip by — just like the ones before it.
------
The fourth morning came with a restless wind brushing against the windows, rustling the petals of half-fallen cherry blossoms outside Ayaka's apartment building.
Makoto was there, as usual — sitting on the hood of his car, hoodie pulled over his head, eyes set on the still and silent building like he was guarding a shrine.
His coffee had long gone cold in his hands.
He didn't drink it for warmth anymore — just for the rhythm, the ritual of waiting.
But this morning wasn't like the others.
Voices echoed from down the street, too many footsteps approaching at once.
Makoto sat up straight, glancing toward the source just as a familiar group came into view.
Kazumi spotted him first.
His brows shot up and he broke into a grin that almost masked her worry.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't the Radiant Prince camping like a lovesick puppy." He teased, hands on his hips. "Should we be concerned or start passing out s'mores?"
Makoto let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "You're late." he said, nodding toward the apartment above. "She still hasn't opened the door."
Keiko and Yuki exchanged glances.
Takeshi looked tired — dark circles under his eyes, lips pressed in a grim line.
Keiko crossed her arms. "We've been calling and texting nonstop. I was this close to picking the lock."
"I did try to bribe the landlord." Yuki said.
"It didn't work. He likes Ayaka too much. He said Ayaka told him not to let anyone in."
They all fell into a quiet kind of unity, eyes drifting toward the balcony above where the curtains hadn't moved for days.
Makoto stood slowly, stretching out the stiffness in his back.
Then he turned to the group and asked, softly, but with clarity: "What's Ayaka's absolute favorite thing in the world? Something she can't resist no matter how upset she is."
The group blinked, caught off guard.
Keiko looked down at her phone. "We tried her favorite foods…"
"I even brought the puppy filter memes she likes." Kazumi added.
"She's not even reading my messages anymore." Takeshi muttered.
But then, suddenly — Yuki's eyes lit up like stars bursting through the clouds.
"Fireworks..." she said, her voice gaining strength.
"Ayaka loves fireworks. The real ones the big summer displays, and even small ones. Sparklers, fountains, roman candles. She used to say they felt like memories that burned just long enough to remind you they were real."
Makoto's gaze sharpened. "That might actually work."
"If anything will, it's that." Yuki said with conviction. "She used to beg us to do a firework night even in winter."
"Why didn't we think of this first?!" Keiko's eyes glimmered with hope.
Kazumi grinned wide. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's blow some stuff up for love!"
"Not in front of her apartment." Takeshi deadpanned, but his voice had a flicker of hope.
Makoto was already pulling out his phone. "We'll need space, something close enough to get her out but not too crowded. And we need to make sure she sees us setting up."
"I'll call her brothers." Keiko said. "If anyone can help get her moving from inside that place, it's those two."
"Wait..." Kazumi said. "Are we doing a full operation here? Like... sneaky tactical fireworks?"
Makoto looked up at the curtained window again, this time with a fire building behind his calm gaze. "Operation Light Her Way Back."
Kazumi cackled. "That's so corny it might actually work."
And just like that, for the first time in days, the air shifted — no longer heavy with despair, but charged with something else.
Hope.
------
The plan came together faster than expected—because no one was willing to wait another day.
Kazumi volunteered to handle the firework permits. "I've got a cousin who works with events—don't ask questions, just know it'll be legal." he said with a confident wink before hopping into his car.
"I'll get the good kind—the big, beautiful ones that scream 'get your ass outside.'"
Takeshi was already tapping away on his phone, coordinating with a local team for setup.
"There's an open lot behind the park near Ayaka's apartment." he said. "No buildings nearby. Good visibility from her balcony."
Keiko and Yuki began searching for safe crowd-control options and additional lighting. "We don't want it to be too chaotic." Keiko warned. "It's not a party—it's for her."
Meanwhile, Makoto stepped aside and dialed Kei first.
His expression tightened as the line connected. "Hello, Dr. Yamamoto?"
"Miura! Finally." Kei's voice was clipped, concern simmering underneath. "She's not answering. Did something happen in Fukuoka?"
Makoto exhaled slowly. "I'll explain everything later but right now, She's... shutting down. We're trying something to reach her."
"Ayaka shut down?" Kei's voice turned serious. "Tell me what you need."
By the time Makoto hung up, Kei had not only agreed to come—he was already in the car.
Makoto texted Kai next.
The reply came almost instantly.
Kai: "I'll be there in ten. Just tell me where and when."