Chapter 4: Her Quiet Smile

Kei checked the time on his phone again as he waited in the school parking lot. It was his first time picking Touko up alone. Yui had been called in for overtime, and she’d asked him with that warm, grateful smile he still wasn’t used to.

He wanted to do well. He wanted to be a good husband. A good stepfather… or at least something close.

Students trickled out in clusters. Voices rose and faded. Kei scanned the gates, expecting to see Touko’s usual quiet, unreadable expression. Instead, she stepped out with a small skip in her walk, her bag bouncing lightly at her side.

It was the happiest he’d ever seen her.

Touko spotted him, then broke into a smile that felt far too bright for the girl he knew. She walked straight toward him, stopping just a bit too close.

“You came,” she said.

“Of course,” Kei answered gently. “Your mom asked me to. Ready to go?”

Touko nodded, but she didn’t move. She kept staring at him, that same smile stretching her face. Kei forced another smile of his own and gestured toward the car.

She walked beside him, not behind or ahead—right next to him, brushing his arm with every step. He pretended not to notice.

Once they got in the car, Touko buckled her seat belt, still smiling.

“You look happy today,” Kei said as he started the engine.

“I am.”

He waited for more, but she stared ahead as if the answer was obvious.

“Want to tell me why?”

Touko tilted her head. “Papa picked me up today.”

Kei’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. She had called him that before, but mostly in front of Yui. Hearing it now, alone, felt heavier.

“You can just call me Kei if that’s easier,” he said softly.

“No,” Touko replied. “Papa is better.”

He let it drop. Pushing her always felt like stepping into the dark.

The ride home stayed quiet. Not awkward, but watchful. Touko hummed under her breath, something slow and oddly soothing. Kei tried to relax, but every glance at her only reminded him how strange this felt.

Touko was seventeen. Mature enough to understand boundaries. Mature enough to understand how her presence could unsettle.

Yet she never acted like a normal teenager. Never acted her age at all.

When they reached home, Touko walked ahead of him, then turned at the doorstep, waiting. She didn’t enter until he caught up.

Inside, he took off his shoes and headed to the living room. Touko followed with that same light step. She hovered beside him like a shadow.

“Did something good happen at school?” Kei asked again, trying to draw things out of the silence.

Touko set her bag down, sat on the sofa and folded her hands neatly on her lap.

“I like you more than before,” she said simply.

Kei blinked. “Huh?”

“You came to get me.”

She tilted her head, eyes steady and unblinking.

“You chose me today.”

“That’s not… Touko, your mom asked me to—”

“But you still came,” she whispered, as if that ended the conversation.

Before he could respond, she reached into her bag and pulled out her sketchbook.

“I drew something in class.”

Kei felt a small wave of relief. Touko often drew. It was one of the few normal things about her.

She opened to a fresh page and held it up.

Kei’s throat tightened.

It was a drawing of two people standing under a tree. He recognized the figures instantly: himself and Touko. She had drawn them with their hands linked. Both were smiling.

There was no Yui.

“Do you like it?” Touko asked.

“It’s… well-done,” Kei said carefully. “But Touko, maybe next time you can draw your mom too—”

“Why?” Touko asked, voice soft but sharp. “She wasn’t there today. Only you.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“You don’t need to worry,” she said, closing the sketchbook. “I can draw her another day.”

Kei nodded, though unease settled deeper in his chest. He stood to head to the kitchen, excuse himself, do anything to break the moment, but Touko rose at the same time.

She stepped in front of him, blocking the path.

Her eyes softened, and she reached for his hand.

The touch was gentle. Too gentle. Her fingers slipped between his with a slow, deliberate intent.

“Touko…” Kei whispered, startled.

She squeezed once.

“Papa.”

Kei pulled back, not harshly, but enough to break the hold.

“Touko,” he said, cleaning his voice. “We should wait for your mom to get home. Why don’t you go do your homework?”

Touko didn’t move. Her eyes traced his face, studying every twitch.

“You don’t need Mama,” she said finally. Her voice wasn’t angry or sad. It was calm. Too calm.

The quiet living room felt colder suddenly.

Kei swallowed. “Touko, that’s not—”

She turned away before he finished and walked upstairs without a sound, leaving him alone with the soft pat of her steps fading down the hallway.

Kei pressed a hand to his chest, trying to steady himself.

Something wasn’t right.

Something was changing in Touko.

And he had no idea how deep this went.