Not a Family Emergency, But Close Enough

True to his nature, Akio tried to bury Sunday’s tension under a mountain of work. Monday morning found him at his office desk before anyone else, meticulously reviewing lines of code for a project due later in the week. He hoped immersion in algorithms and bug fixes would push the memory of that awful morning aside. But by noon, he had re-read the same function five times and still hadn’t fixed the glaring error staring back at him. His mind kept drifting to Amaya.

She had slipped back into the apartment late night—or rather, early Monday around 3 AM, judging by the thumps he heard and the faint jingling of her keys. Akio had lain in bed, eyes open in the dark, listening as her door shut down the hall. He’d debated getting up, saying something, but what? It was the middle of the night. Instead, he’d stared at the ceiling until he heard her muffled sob (or was it a cough?) through the thin wall. By the time he decided to check on her, all was silent.

Now, sitting at work, Akio couldn’t shake the image of her slipping into her room. She hadn’t emerged when he left for the office. No taunting remarks about his tie, no morning coffee war (where she always stole the first cup). Just silence.

He tapped his pen anxiously against the desk. What if she was still upset? Of course she was. What if she was hurt? The thought hit him out of nowhere. Hurt how? He didn’t know, maybe emotionally, maybe… physically? Amaya had mentioned going to practice after their fight; if she’d been training while upset, she could have easily injured herself on an apparatus. A slip on the aerial hoop, a bad fall… his stomach clenched. And what had she done all night? Hiding out at Naomi’s, probably seething or crying or both.

Akio tried to focus on the code again, but the lines of text blurred. He imagined her alone in her room right now, possibly nursing a twisted ankle or some bruise and refusing to tell him because she was still angry. Or worse, what if she hadn’t even gotten home safely? No, he definitely heard her come in… he was pretty sure. Unless he’d dreamed it in his restless half-sleep?

That did it. He couldn’t concentrate another second like this.

Before he fully knew what he was doing, Akio was on his feet. He scribbled a barely legible excuse on a note, ‘family emergency, will make up time’, and left it on his chair for Kubo-san to find. It wasn’t even entirely a lie; Amaya wasn’t family, but the worry gnawing at him felt as urgent as any emergency.

He grabbed his coat and was out the door, weaving through the afternoon bustle of Tokyo’s streets with one destination in mind: home.

The walk home felt longer than usual. His mind was racing with all the ways he might start the conversation. Are you okay? sounded too generic. I’m sorry was definitely necessary. Maybe he should start with that. I’m an idiot, I’m sorry. That was closer to the truth.

At last, he reached the apartment building and jogged up the stairs to 5B, out of breath. Bracing himself, he unlocked the door and stepped in quietly.

The apartment was dim; curtains half-drawn, the late afternoon light casting long stripes across the living room floor. He immediately noticed the ivy plant on the sill, looking a little perkier from Saturday’s watering (one small relief). Akio set down his keys and listened. A faint sound came from down the hall. Music? No… it was the low drone of the vacuum cleaner.

Akio’s heart skipped. He walked toward the noise. Amaya’s bedroom door was open, and there she was: slowly running the vacuum over the same patch of carpet, her back to him. She wore baggy sweatpants and one of his spare company T-shirts (he recognized the logo on the back), likely something she’d grabbed from the clean laundry. Seeing her in his clothes gave him a strange flutter in his chest.

“Amaya?” he called gently over the noise.

She startled and turned the vacuum off. Amaya stood there, one hand on the cleaner, the other holding the cord. She looked… not great. Her eyes were puffy, as if she hadn’t slept well (that made two of them). Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, lacking its normal rebellious floof.

“You’re… home early,” she said after a beat, voice scratchy. Had she been crying, or was she getting sick?

Akio stepped into the doorway, cautious. “I couldn’t focus at work. I was… worried about you.”

She blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. “Worried? I— I’m fine. Why would you be worried?”

He almost laughed, there were so many reasons. But seeing her defensiveness, he realized she probably thought he was here to continue the fight. Nothing could be further from the truth. His face softened. “Because I care about you, you dummy.”

Amaya’s eyes widened. They stood frozen for an awkward moment, both surprised at the frankness of his words, Akio perhaps even more so than Amaya. He hadn’t meant for it to come out quite like that, but now it hung in the air.

“I mean,” he stammered, ears burning, “I was worried how you left. And that you didn’t come home until late and then locked yourself away. I—I hated how we left things.”

Her gaze dropped to the carpet. “Oh.” She fidgeted with the vacuum cord, twisting it around her fingers. “I… hated it too.”

Akio felt a cautious hope flicker. He took a step closer. “Are you okay? Really?”

Amaya shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not injured, if that’s what you mean. Practice was fine. I crashed at Naomi’s. Stayed out of your hair.” She tried for a breezy tone, but it faltered.

He wanted to tell her his hair was the last thing he wanted her out of, but that sounded weird even in his head. Instead, he gingerly reached and took the vacuum cord from her hand, setting it aside and guiding her to sit on the edge of her bed. To his relief, she let him.

Up close, he could see faint dark circles under her eyes beneath the glitter residue that still clung stubbornly to a few lashes. Her complexion was paler than usual. “You don’t look fine,” he said softly. “You look exhausted.”

Amaya gave a small, humourless laugh. “Thanks, I try.”

He winced. “No, I mean… I’m worried you might be coming down with something. Have you eaten?”

She lifted a shoulder again, evasive. “Not hungry.”

That settled it, she definitely wasn’t okay. Amaya was always up for food.

Akio hesitated only a second before pressing the back of his hand to her forehead. It was something his mother would do when he was young, he wasn’t sure if it really detected fevers, but it made him feel useful. Her skin felt warm, but her room was stuffy.

She went very still at the touch, eyes fixed on his face. He realized how intimate the gesture was and started to pull back, but she caught his hand in hers before it got far. “Akio,” she said quietly, “why are you here?”

“I told you.” His voice nearly cracked. “I was worried. And… I wanted to apologize.”

She looked down at their hands. She hadn’t let go of his. “I’m sorry too. I was pretty horrible.”

He shook his head. “I handled it badly. I said things I didn’t mean. Well, I meant the part about the ants, but not the part about… you.” He sighed. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not important. I—”

She squeezed his hand, cutting off his babbling. “I get it. We both said stuff. Let’s just… not do that again, okay?”

He nodded, relief washing through him. “Deal.”

She managed a tiny smile. “I shouldn’t have left like that. That was unfair.”

“I shouldn’t have been such a nag,” he replied. “Or belittled your work. I don’t think it’s not real, by the way. I was just being an idiot.”

Amaya’s lips curved more. “Yes, you were.”

He huffed a soft laugh. If she was teasing, that had to be a good sign.

An awkward beat passed, both uncertain how to transition from fight to normalcy. Finally, Akio cleared his throat. “Have you really not eaten all day?”

She shrugged against him. “Wasn’t hungry. Kinda regretting that now, though. My stomach’s been growling but I was too busy sulking.”

He smiled into her hair. “Come on. I’ll make something. And you can supervise.”

Amaya pulled back, wiping the corner of her eye quickly before any tear could fall. “Bold of you to assume I’ll let you cook alone. Who’s going to taste test the food, if not me?”

“That’s the spirit.” Gently, he helped her stand. She wobbled just a bit, definitely running on empty. Akio steadied her with a hand at her elbow, and together they moved to the kitchen.

He heated up some broth and noodles while Amaya perched on a stool, watching. When he handed her a steaming bowl of instant ramen topped with a soft-boiled egg and green onions, she actually smiled. “You added an egg? Fancy.”

“I do what I can,” he replied lightly. Truthfully, he’d have cooked a five-course meal from scratch if it would put the colour back in her cheeks. “Eat up.”

They ate at the small kitchen table, knees occasionally bumping under it. Each little collision made Akio’s heart skip a beat. As she slurped the broth, her shoulders visibly relaxed.

“Hey,” Amaya said quietly after draining half her bowl, “for what it’s worth, I really am sorry I blew up at you. You’re not wrong that I can be… all over the place. I’ll try to be more considerate. Of the space, and of you.”

Akio set his chopsticks down. Hearing her earnestness made him feel both warm and guilty. “I appreciate that. And I’ll try not to be so, what did you say, like a museum curator about everything. I don’t want you tiptoeing around like a guest. It’s your home too.”

She gave him a soft, genuine smile that made something in his chest turn over. “Deal.”

“Deal,” he echoed, returning the smile.

The late afternoon sun had begun to turn gold, slanting through the window onto their little apartment jungle of two (three, counting their ivy). It illuminated the streaks of dust motes in the air, the now mostly clean counters, and the faint sparkle of a few persistent pieces of glitter on the floor that even Akio’s cleaning spree had missed. It felt right.

After lunch, Amaya insisted on washing the dishes, over his protests that she should rest. She splashed him with sudsy water in retaliation when he tried to grab a sponge from her, which made him yelp and then laugh, a sound that felt surprisingly easy around her now.

As the evening settled in, they migrated to the couch. Amaya grabbed the ivy plant from the sill and set it on the coffee table between them.

They spent the rest of that night quietly, watching a silly game show on TV. Amaya eventually fell asleep halfway through, her head resting on the couch back (she made sure to keep a respectful distance, perhaps unsure of the new boundaries). Akio fetched the blanket, her blanket, and draped it over her.

He dimmed the lights, and before heading to his own room, he glanced at Amaya one more time. Her face looked peaceful in sleep again, not troubled as it had Sunday morning.

“Goodnight, Amaya,” he whispered, unsure if he wanted her to hear or not.

She didn’t stir, so he turned in with a small smile playing at his lips. Worry released its hold on him at last. The code bug at work was still unsolved, yes, but he’d tackle that tomorrow with a clear head. For now, all was quiet and well in apartment 5B.

And that was worth leaving work early for, any day.