Chapter 8: — "Her Mother's Concern"

The soft hum of the ovens filled the air, blending with the quiet chime of the bakery door as another customer left.

The scent of freshly baked bread and sugar hung gently in the air, wrapping the room in warmth. The evening light streamed in through the windows of Neko-Bite, tinting the tables gold.

Sakura sat at one of those tables, her notebooks spread out, pencil tapping lightly against the edge of a math worksheet. Her parents were still behind the counter, her father laughing with a familiar customer, her mother bagging pastries with a small, tired smile.

This place had always felt like a small world of safety. No teasing voices. No staring classmates. Just the smell of bread and the rhythm of work.

“Sweetheart,” her mother called softly once the last customer left, “you still doing homework?”

Sakura looked up, smiling faintly. “Mm-hm. Almost done.”

Her mother smiled, wiped her hands on her apron, and walked over. The bakery was quiet now, the steady ticking of the wall clock echoing softly. She sat across from Sakura with a small sigh, taking off her hair tie and letting her dark hair fall to her shoulders.

“You’ve been looking a bit tired lately,” she said, voice gentle. “How’s school been, honey? Made any new friends yet?”

Sakura hesitated, her pencil stopped mid-tap.

“It’s… been okay,” she said finally, eyes lowering to her homework. “I met some nice people. There’s this girl, Ayaka, in my class. She’s really kind. And she’s in the art club too.”

Her mother smiled. “That’s good. I was hoping you’d find someone nice this time.”
There was a small pause before she added, “You’re smiling more lately. That makes me happy.”

Sakura felt warmth creep up in her chest. “Thanks, Mom.”

Her mother tilted her head, eyes soft. “Anyone else? You mentioned ‘people,’ not just one person.”

Sakura froze. Her heart gave a small, nervous flutter.
She looked down again, voice faltering.

“Well… there’s one more person,” she muttered.

“Oh?” Her mother leaned forward slightly, curious. “A boy?”

Sakura’s pencil stopped tapping. She hesitated, maybe she shouldn’t say it. Maybe she should just make something up.

But lying to her mom felt wrong.

“…His name is Haruto,” she said quietly.

The name lingered in the air like the smell of burnt bread.

Her mother’s expression changed instantly, her gentle smile vanishing. She blinked once, then again, before leaning forward sharply.

“Haruto?” she repeated, her tone rising. “You mean… Shinohara Haruto?”

Sakura’s hands clenched slightly around her pencil. “…Yeah.”

Her mother’s voice turned firm, protective. “He’s at your school now? That boy—” she cut herself off, pressing her lips tightly together. “After what he did to you… after all the nights you came home crying…”

“Mom…” Sakura murmured.

“No, Sakura. You have to listen.” Her mother’s tone grew sharper, fiercer. “That boy hurt you. He humiliated you every single day back then. You begged me not to make you go to school, remember? You told me he’d never stop! And now he’s in the same school again?”

Sakura’s heart pounded. She looked down at the table, unable to meet her mother’s eyes.
“I know,” she whispered. “But… he’s different now.”

“Different?” her mother repeated, voice tight with disbelief. “How can you know that? People don’t just change overnight, Sakura. Not bullies. Not someone like him.”

“He has changed,” Sakura said quickly, looking up at her. Her voice trembled, but her eyes were firm. “He’s not like before. He’s… nice now. He helped me, Mom.”

Her mother blinked. “…Helped you?”

Sakura nodded. “On my first day… some girls were teasing me. And he stopped them. He stood up for me.”

Her mother’s expression softened, but only slightly. Worry still clouded her eyes. “And you’re sure he wasn’t just pretending? Trying to get close again so he can hurt you later?”

“No.” Sakura shook her head, clutching her pencil tighter. “He was serious. He told me he’s changed. That he realized how much he hurt people back then. And I could tell… he meant it.”

The bakery fell silent again except for the faint hum of the ovens.
Her mother leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly.

“…That’s hard to believe,” she said after a moment, quieter now. “But you’ve always been a good judge of people. Still, I don’t want you getting too close to him, Sakura. Promise me.”

Sakura bit her lip. “…I can’t promise that.”

Her mother blinked in surprise.

Sakura’s voice was soft, almost shaking. “Because… I want to believe him. I know I shouldn’t... not after everything, but I do. I want to trust him.”

Her mother frowned. “Even after what he did?”

“…Even after that,” Sakura whispered. “He seems… lonely, Mom. Like he’s carrying something heavy. I don’t know what it is, but… I can see it in his eyes.”

Her mother sighed, rubbing her temple. The anger in her face slowly faded, replaced by concern and quiet sadness. “You always did have a soft heart,” she murmured. “It’s what I love about you… and what scares me the most.”

Sakura looked away, cheeks warm. “I’m not… soft. I just… don’t want to hate him anymore.”

Her mother studied her for a moment, then smiled faintly, a small, tired curve of her lips.
“You’ve grown,” she said softly. “Maybe more than I realized.”

There was a long pause. Then, her mother reached across the table and brushed a few strands of hair from Sakura’s face.

“Alright,” she said finally. “If you really believe he’s changed, then I’ll trust your judgment. But if he hurts you again… even once…”

Sakura nodded quickly. “I’ll tell you.”

“Good.”

Her mother leaned back, taking a deep breath. The tension in the air slowly melted away, replaced by the quiet hum of ovens and the faint tick of the clock.

After a moment, her mother stood up and smiled softly. “Come on, help me close up shop. Then we’ll have some of the leftover strawberry buns, okay?”

Sakura smiled, her chest warm. “Okay.”

They worked together in silence, wiping tables, sweeping crumbs, turning off the lights one by one. The warmth of the ovens lingered as the bakery grew dim, glowing softly with the last traces of sunset.

As Sakura carried a tray of pastries to the counter, her mind drifted.
Haruto’s face flashed in her thoughts, the bruise he tried to hide, the tired look in his eyes, and the small, genuine smile he gave her despite everything.

Her mother looked over as Sakura stood there staring at nothing. “Something on your mind?”

Sakura blinked, shaking her head quickly. “No, just… thinking about homework.”

Her mother chuckled softly, unconvinced. “Right.”

As they flipped the sign to Closed, Sakura took one last look around the bakery, the small space filled with warmth, love, and the smell of bread.

But even with all that comfort surrounding her, she couldn’t shake the thought that somewhere out there, Haruto might be sitting in a cold, lonely place, with no warmth at all.

And for reasons she couldn’t understand… that thought hurt.