The next day passes quietly. Too quietly.
Kojiro leaves for work early, lingering near the door a fraction too long, as if he wants to say something and decides against it at the last second.
Kaoru doesn’t stop him. He doesn’t want to. The apartment settles into silence afterward.
The rain finally stopped sometime during the night, leaving the city outside washed clean and painfully bright beneath pale morning sunlight.
Kaoru drifts through the rooms without purpose. Tea gone cold on the counter. Book left open and forgotten again. He plops down on the couch, turns on the TV, and has to choose between a documentary about peas and some office rom-com. Fantastic.
Around midday, the doorbell rings.
Kaoru stills automatically. The sound cuts through the apartment cleanly enough that something tightens low beneath his ribs before he can place why.
For one brief second, he almost assumes it’s Kojiro. Maybe he forgot something. The thought barely forms before Kaoru is already moving toward the door.
Reflex again. The lock clicks open softly beneath his fingers.
The moment the door swings inward - pain explodes across his face.
The impact snaps his head violently sideways, hard enough to send him stumbling backward into the wall beside the entrance.
For one disorienting second, Kaoru doesn’t understand what happened. Then his cheek starts burning.
A faint taste of blood spreads through his mouth where his teeth must have cut against the inside of his cheek.
His glasses hit the floor somewhere nearby with a sharp crack.
Silence fills the doorway afterward.
Kaoru’s vision swims briefly before stabilizing enough to focus again.
His grandfather stands perfectly motionless in the entrance.
Immaculate dark kimono layered beneath a tailored haori, every line of him composed with terrifying precision.
Not angry… that would almost be easier.
Cold disappointment settles across his features instead.
The kind that used to terrify Kaoru far more as a child than shouting ever could.
He straightens instinctively before he fully realizes he’s doing it.
Pain flashes sharply through his face, pulse hammering violently beneath his ribs. His hands curl into tight fists. He still lowers his gaze.
"You disgrace yourself more each time I look at you." The words land evenly. Controlled.
Each syllable precise enough to cut skin.
Kaoru can’t speak - not because he has nothing to say. Because suddenly he is seventeen again.
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