Chapter 31: “Two Homes”

The Hanabusa house felt too quiet when Rurika stepped inside.

The front door closed with a soft click behind her, the sound sharper than it should have been. She stood there for a moment, still holding the shopping bags in both hands, her heart light and restless at the same time. Her cheeks were warm, her thoughts floating somewhere between the bracelet in the bag and the picture hidden safely in her phone.

“I’m home,” she called out, her voice brighter than usual.

No answer.

Rurika slipped off her shoes and walked in, humming softly without realizing it. She felt strange. Lighter. As if something important had happened, even if she couldn’t quite name it.

Then she turned the corner toward the living room.

And froze.

Touko Nishima was sitting at the low table, back straight, hands folded neatly on her lap. A teacup rested in front of her, steam curling lazily upward. Across from her sat Reika Hanabusa, relaxed, one leg crossed over the other, smiling as she spoke.

They looked comfortable together.

Too comfortable.

Touko noticed her first.

“Oh,” Touko said, eyes lighting up as if she had been waiting all along. “Rurika-chan. Welcome home.”

Her voice was warm. Friendly. Perfect.

Rurika’s fingers tightened around the bag handles.

“T-Touko?” she managed.

Reika turned around. Her pleasant expression shifted instantly into something sharper. “You’re late.”

“I—” Rurika swallowed. “I sent a message. I said I’d be a bit late.”

Reika stood up, walking toward her with measured steps. “You didn’t say where you were.”

Touko rose as well, smoothing her skirt. She walked to Rurika’s side and leaned forward slightly, peering at the shopping bags.

“You bought something,” Touko said gently. “Did you go shopping with your friends?”

The word friends landed heavily.

Rurika nodded too fast. “Y-Yes. Friends.”

Reika sighed. “You should be more responsible. Parents’ meetings make days long. Don’t wander around.”

“I wasn’t wandering,” Rurika said, heat creeping up her neck. “I was just—”

“With friends,” Touko finished for her, smiling wider.

Rurika felt suddenly exposed. Like the air itself had thinned.

Touko stepped closer. Close enough that Rurika could smell her faint perfume. Clean. Controlled. Nothing like the nervous sweat clinging to Rurika’s skin.

“That’s nice,” Touko said. “Friends are important.”

Her eyes flicked down.

To Rurika’s hands.

To the phone she was holding too tightly.

Touko’s smile didn’t change.

“May I see?” Touko asked lightly, extending her hand.

Rurika blinked. “See… what?”

“Your phone,” Touko replied. “You look like you’re about to drop it.”

“I’m fine,” Rurika said quickly, pulling it closer to her chest. “I don’t—”

Touko’s hand closed gently over Rurika’s wrist.

Not tight.

Not rough.

Just enough.

Rurika inhaled sharply.

Touko tilted her head. “You’re shaking.”

Reika turned back toward the kitchen, uninterested now that the scolding was done. “Touko-chan, would you like more tea?”

“Yes, please,” Touko answered sweetly, never taking her eyes off Rurika.

She loosened her grip slightly, just enough to feel kind.

Rurika hesitated.

Then, slowly, as if her body had already decided for her, her fingers relaxed.

Touko took the phone.

Her touch was cool.

“Thank you,” Touko said.

She stepped away and looked down at the screen. Locked.

Touko’s thumb hovered for a moment.

“What’s your password?” she asked casually.

Rurika’s heart slammed into her ribs. “Why do you need it?”

Touko glanced up, puzzled. “Oh? I thought friends share things.”

Rurika opened her mouth, then closed it again.

Reika returned with fresh tea, placing it on the table. “Rurika, go change. You look messy.”

“Okay,” Rurika whispered.

She took a step toward the hallway, then stopped.

“My phone—”

Touko smiled. “I’ll hold onto it. You might forget it again.”

Rurika stood there, helpless, watching as Touko turned the screen toward herself.

Her hands felt empty.

Wrong.

Touko’s eyes softened as she studied the phone, like she was holding something fragile. Precious.

“Rurika-chan,” she said quietly, “you said you were with friends.”

“Yes,” Rurika replied, her voice thin.

Touko nodded. “I see.”

She didn’t unlock the phone.

Not yet.

Instead, she set it down carefully on the table beside her tea.

Like placing a knife within reach.

“You can go change now,” Touko repeated kindly.

Rurika moved down the hallway on unsteady legs. Each step felt heavier than the last. She closed her bedroom door and leaned against it, pressing her palm to her chest.

Her phone was out there.

With Touko.

Back in the living room, Touko sat down again, folding her hands neatly.

Reika sipped her tea. “She’s been careless lately.”

Touko smiled. “Teenage years can be confusing.”

Her gaze drifted to the phone beside her cup.

A faint reflection of her eyes stared back from the dark screen.

Patient.

Waiting.

Two homes.

One roof.

And something had already begun to rot between them.