Act 16: Family

Finals were the last obstacle to tackle before my much desired winter break and my chance to go back home. Chiaki, Benio, Tatsumi, and I cracked open the books and did our best to pass our classes.

Over the next few weeks, study sessions in the library and my apartment became common. During that time Natsuki and I would talk over the phone, usually during her precious break times and at night. We’d text back and forth often, making me miss the time we spent in person even more. But I told myself that was the nature of this relationship, and I wouldn’t want to cause any issues for her since she already had alot on her plate.

One day, lounging in my apartment room the four of us were sprawled across the floor, burnt out from all of the studying we were doing.

“Oh yeah, you never told us how that first date went,” Benio was the first to bring it up.

I remained staring at the ceiling. “It was great,” everything kept replaying in my head. The moments of hands touched, her different expressions, her kiss on my cheek. It had me in a complete daze and one of the reasons why I struggled to study.

Benio propped herself up on one elbow, eyes narrowing with interest. “That’s it?” she asked. “Just great?”

Tatsumi hummed thoughtfully from where he was sprawled near the coffee table. “She’s smiling,” he added. “Like… a lot.”

“I am not,” I said immediately.

Chiaki rolled onto her side to face me, chin resting in her palm. “You are,” she replied calmly. “And you’ve been doing it every day since."

I blinked, then pressed the back of my hand to my face, suddenly very aware of the heat there. “It wasn’t anything crazy,” I muttered. “We just… hung out.”

Benio snorted. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Tatsumi grinned. “Did you hold hands?”

“No.”

Three pairs of eyes stayed on me.

“…Okay, maybe once,” I admitted.

Chiaki’s lips curved upward, soft and knowing. “Well, as long as you had fun,” she said gently.

I hesitated, then nodded. “I did.”

The room fell quiet for a moment.

Benio leaned back with a satisfied sigh. “That’s all we needed to hear.”

Tatsumi gave me a lazy thumbs-up. “Just don’t forget about us when you get famous by association.”

“I’m not—” I started, but the words dissolved into a small laugh.

I turned my gaze back to the ceiling, the weight in my chest lighter than it had been in weeks.

Maybe I'll see her soon.

I kept that thought in my mind when tests finally rolled over. The relief spilling once I completed one then two then the last of my classes for finals. I was confident I scored at least C’s and above, it was pretty much required to have good grades to remain on the scholarship.

Once everyone else was finished we had hit up a hot pot joint nearby campus to celebrate. Our final huzzah before going our separate ways as everyone left to visit their families. Though Chiaki was going the same direction I was since our families lived relatively close.

It at least wasn’t a lonely trip back home.

Getting off the train we went opposite directions. Chiaki promised that she would come to visit to bother me.

During my walk I took in my surroundings seeing how things had hardly changed around here. I passed by the park I often went to as a child and a few neighbors who still recognized me.

‘Tsukishiro’

I read the nameplate of the house before walking through the gate. Before I even got a chance to knock on the door, my hand paused as I heard stomping from behind.

Swinging the door open was none other than Hana who jumped into my arms.

“Welcome home!” She was clearly excited to see me.

“It’s good to be back,” she quickly let go to let my parents get their hugs in.

I walked in and set my stuff aside in my room upstairs. Turning on the light everything was kept in place from when I left, probably cleaner than I could ever keep it, but they must’ve cleaned up a bit before I arrived.

Dropping my backpack I plopped onto my bed. My eyes drew to a close the heavier they got.

~~~

It had been a few days since I’d been home, and nothing around the house had really changed. I still ran in the mornings, Mom tended to her plants, Dad left early for work, and my sister was still buried in school.

The cold lingered longer than usual, so I pushed my run to the late afternoon instead. I pulled on a beanie and an old high school jacket—one I was surprised still fit. The same one, I realized, from the school my sister now attended.

I ran 2.5 miles. By the time I slowed to a jog, I’d drifted toward my old high school without really thinking about it. Students were spilling out through the gates, loud and restless.

And then I saw her.

Hana stepped out with the others, her expression tight in a way I recognized immediately. The same one she’d worn the last time I saw her.

“Looks like you had a rough day,” I said as I fell into step beside her.

Her face lit up instantly.

“Big sis! What are you doing here?”

“Just finished a run,” I said. “Guess my timing was good. You heading straight home?”

“Ah…Yeah.”
She looked away.

We walked together, students brushing past us in clusters. The space between us felt heavier than the crowd.

“Hana,” I said carefully. “Are you okay?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper, pressing it into my hand.

I unfolded it.

A career questionnaire. Three boxes asking what students planned to do after high school.

I’d seen this before. Twice.
Play volleyball in college.
Attend the same college as my older sister.
Play volleyball professionally.

All filled in.

This time, every box was empty.

My chest tightened.

There was a faint mark in one of them, like she’d started writing then stopped.

“It used to be easy,” she said quietly. “Now it’s the hardest question they could’ve asked.”

Her steps slowed. She stared at the pavement, dragging her feet. That was when I noticed it.

The knee brace.

Exposed beneath her skirt, snug around her right leg. She must’ve been hiding it before pants, long socks. I hadn’t seen it last time.

“You’re not going to practice anymore?,” I asked.

She shook her head. “What’s the point? I just sit there and watch.” Her voice dipped. “And even if I wanted to move… the doctor said it won’t heal properly. The damage to the muscle is too severe.”

My stomach dropped.

That wasn’t what they’d said before.

“W–when did they tell you that?” I asked.

“In May…” Hana said. “I tried going back to practice, but the movement was too much. My leg couldn’t handle anything close to a real game.”

May.

The word lodged itself in my chest. That was around the time I’d gone to see Natsuki’s show. When I’d been thinking everything was fine as I continued to practice and push myself.

My lower lip trembled before I could stop it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked softly.

She didn’t answer. She just kept walking.

“Hana.” I reached out, resting a hand on her shoulder.

She turned, and the look on her face made my stomach twist.

“I don’t want to talk about this right now,” she said. “Let’s just go home…”

She shrugged my hand away and moved ahead of me. I didn’t chase her. I didn’t ask anything else. The words I wanted to say felt useless anyway.

We walked the rest of the way in silence.

When we got home, dinner was already waiting. One glance was all it took. Mom must’ve seen it on our faces, the heaviness we carried in with us.

“I’m not hungry,” Hana muttered, already heading for her room.

Her door closed softly behind her.

Mom looked at me then, searching. I could feel the question in her eyes.

I shook my head.

The air at dinner felt heavy, the kind that pressed down on my chest. I set my utensils aside, unable to let the question go any longer.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” I asked quietly, “that Hana wouldn’t be able to play volleyball again?”

The words tasted wrong the moment they left my mouth, but I needed the truth.

My parents exchanged a look. A silent agreement. Then my dad spoke.

“You were in your freshman year,” he said. “You remember that, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“What were you doing back then?”

The question hit harder than I expected. I looked away, forcing a weak laugh. “Studying. What else?”

“And track?” he asked gently.

My chest tightened.

That year felt distant now, like it belonged to someone else. I’d skipped practices with excuses. Avoided people. Let my times fall apart. Even running, something I once loved, had started to feel like a chore. I barely passed my classes.

Remembering it made my stomach twist.

“You never told us,” my dad continued, “but we noticed. Your times dropped. You asked us not to come to meets. You stopped calling as much.” He exhaled slowly. “And when Hana was hurt… you blamed yourself.”

The memory surfaced instantly.

That winter. The snow. The crosswalk.

I’d sprinted ahead without thinking. A car skidding. The impact. Hana’s legs.

I clenched my jaw.

“The doctors told us she’d recover with rest,” my dad said. “But when you went back to school, your name was scratched from every meet starting your sophomore year. We thought… if we told you the truth then, you might stop running entirely.”

My breath caught.

“In May,” he continued, meeting my eyes, “they told Hana she’d never be able to play volleyball again.”

The words settled heavily between us.

“So,” I whispered, “you didn’t tell me… for my sake?”

I stared down at my hands gripping my joggers, shame creeping up my spine. While I’d been clawing my way back, she’d been losing the one thing she loved.

“What kind of big sister does that make me…” I muttered.

“Yukina.”

My mom stood and came to my side, taking my hand. Her grip was warm, steady.

“Hana asked us not to tell you,” she said softly. “She didn’t want you carrying that weight. She believed you’d find your way back—no matter how long it took.”

I swallowed.

“She even asked the doctor after Nationals if there was any way she could improve, even just one percent of what she could do,” Mom continued. “They said no. But she’s still trying to figure out what comes next.”

My chest ached.

“I’ll help her,” I said quietly. “However I can. Even if all I can do is stand by her.”

My parents smiled—small, tired smiles. My mom wiped her eyes.

Later that night, I sent Natsuki a simple goodnight text.

But my thoughts stayed with Hana.

And the question I couldn’t shake.

What more can I do?