As soon as I finally broke free from my classmates, I made my way home, my mind still buzzing with the day's events.
I reached my home, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. Tossing my bag onto the couch, I let out a breath, rolling my shoulders.
Silence.
Good.
No more sports festival talk. No more expectations. Just peace.
I ran a hand through my hair and moved toward the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water. But just as I took a sip—
"You have the sports festival two weeks from now, right?" I heard.
"Why do you care, Hajime?" I told him, even a neglecting dad wants to know shit about me, huh?
'Why the f*** do you care? We just live in the same house, I don't need to tell shit to you."
Hajime sighed, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. His sharp eyes studied me like he was trying to see through me.
"You've been getting a lot of attention lately, I saw you on the news," he said. "Figured I'd check in."
I scoffed, setting my glass down with a little more force than necessary. "Check in? That's new. Last I checked, you didn't give a damn what I did."
He paused, "Just tell me what you need, gear or something?"
I narrowed my eyes at him. "I don't need anything from you."
Hajime just nodded, like he expected that answer.
I let out a sharp breath, gripping the edge of the counter.
"I think you don't care enough," he said flatly. "You've never given a damn about proving yourself. That kind of attitude gets people crushed in this world."
I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You really think I care about proving myself to anyone? Please."
Hajime stared at me for a moment before shaking his head. "Then why are you even bothering with the festival?"
"For a promise. I know how to stand with people and care about them. I don't need your advice."
Hajime raised an eyebrow. "A promise, huh? Must be some promise if it's got you actually giving a damn."
I didn't answer. I didn't owe him one.
He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose like I was some problem he didn't have the patience for. "Whatever. Just don't let emotions get in the way. People who care too much end up broken."
I clenched my jaw. "Not everyone turns out like you."
His eyes flashed with something unreadable, but instead of arguing, he just scoffed and walked away. "Suit yourself."
The moment he was gone, I exhaled, my grip on the counter loosening.
"what are you gonna do with your work, huh? Your wife's gone, so you blame me, right? But sure, instead of taking care of your child that you brought into this world, take care of your work. Model Father Of The Year. Very nice. Congratulations!"
Hajime froze mid-step. His back tensed, but he didn't turn around.
I could feel it—the shift in the air, the barely contained frustration radiating off of him. He wasn't expecting me to say that.
For a second, I thought he might just leave, pretend he didn't hear me. But then he let out a sharp exhale and turned his head slightly.
"You done?" His voice was low, and controlled, but there was an edge to it.
You don't get to act like the victim here. You abandoned me. You had a choice, Hajime. You could've been a father. Instead, you buried yourself in work and acted like I didn't exist."
He clenched his fists at his sides. "You think I had a choice?" His voice was barely above a whisper, but the weight behind it was heavy. "You think I wanted this? To lose her? To—"
He stopped himself.
"You had me," I shot back. "And you still chose to be alone."
Hajime didn't respond right away. His shoulders tensed, and for a brief moment, I thought he might actually say something real—something that wasn't just another cold dismissal.
But then he just scoffed, shaking his head. "You don't understand."
That was it.
I slammed my fist onto the counter. "Then make me understand! Stop acting like you're the only one who lost something!"
Hajime finally turned around, his eyes burning with something between exhaustion and anger. "I lost my wife," he said, voice sharp. "The love of my life. And yeah, I had you, but every time I looked at you—"
He stopped himself again, jaw tightening.
I felt something in my chest twist. "Go on," I said, my voice quieter now. "Say it. Every time you looked at me, you saw her, right?"
"Wow! Everyone has a f***ing reason."
Hajime's eyes darkened, but he didn't deny it. He didn't need to. The silence between us spoke louder than anything he could've said.
I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. "That's a damn good excuse, huh? Must be nice. Everyone has their reasons—why they hurt people, why they run away, why they act like they're the only ones suffering." I scoffed, feeling the anger build in my chest. "And guess what? None of that shit changes the fact that you abandoned me."
Hajime exhaled sharply, his fingers curling into fists. "You think it was easy for me?"
"Oh, f*** off with that," I snapped. "You're standing here, acting like you're the only one who lost something! Like you're the only one who had to deal with pain!" I jabbed a finger toward him. "You had a choice, Hajime! You had a chance to be there for me, but you decided it was easier to drown yourself in work than to look at your own son!"
His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. "And what the hell do you think I was supposed to do, huh? Look at you every day and pretend I didn't see her in your face? Pretend that every time I heard your voice, it didn't rip me apart?"
I let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Oh yeah, poor you. Must've been so hard being reminded of the woman you loved. I'd say you should be happy but yeah, go on sulking." My voice dropped, colder now.
"Guess what, Hajime? I never even got the chance to know her. She was taken from me before I could even understand what a mother was. And you—" I pointed at him. "—were supposed to be there. You were supposed to step up. But instead, you just made me feel like I was the reason she was gone."
He flinched. It was subtle, but I saw it.
For a second, his face twisted—like he wanted to say something, to deny it. But he didn't.
I scoffed. "Nothing to say to that, huh? Figures."
Hajime sighed, running a hand down his face. "I don't expect you to understand."
"Yeah, well, I don't expect you to be a father," I shot back. "Guess we're both disappointed."
He looked at me, something heavy in his gaze. "You're right," he admitted quietly. "I failed you."
I paused. My hands trembling a bit.
"What?"
Hajime let out a slow breath, his posture slackening just a little. "I failed you," he repeated. "I won't deny it."
I stared at him, my fingers curling into fists. I didn't expect him to admit it—not like this, not so easily. I thought he'd argue, tell me I didn't understand, act like he didn't care. But this?
This was worse.
Because if he knew—if he knew he failed—then why the hell did he never try to fix it?
"That's it?" My voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of everything I had been holding in for years. "You failed me, and that's it? No explanation? No attempt to make things right? Just 'Oops, my bad'?"
Hajime sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "What do you want me to say, Kaito?"
"I don't know!" I snapped. "Something! Anything! Just—" I took a sharp breath, my throat burning. "Just don't stand there and act like it doesn't matter."
He looked at me for a long moment before shaking his head. "It does matter," he admitted. "But nothing I say is going to change what happened."
I clenched my teeth. "Then why are you even here?"
Hajime was silent for a moment. Then, his voice came quieter, almost tired. "Because I still care."
I scoffed. "No, you don't. If you cared, you would've been there."
"I know."
The way he said it, so simply, so honestly—it caught me off guard.
I hated this. I hated how calm he was. How he didn't argue. How he just... took it.
It made it harder to hate him.
And I wanted to hate him.
Hajime sighed again, running a hand through his hair. "You don't have to forgive me, Kaito. Hell, I don't expect you to. But I need you to know that I never blamed you for what happened. Not once."
I felt my stomach twist. "Then why—"
"Because looking at you reminded me of what I lost," he said simply. "And I was too much of a coward to face that."
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry.
Coward.
That was the first real thing he'd ever admitted about himself.
And I didn't know how to respond to it.
"Now, you might think, 'Oh, he's suddenly coming to me now that I'm famous, huh?', but remember there's not a single inch of me that doesn't regret everything I've never done for you." He told me.
I stared at him, my fingers tightening into fists at my sides. I wanted to yell, to tell him that regret wasn't enough—that it never would be. But the way he said it, the way his voice dropped just slightly, like even admitting it cost him something, made my throat tighten.
"Regret, huh?" My voice came out hoarse, quieter than I meant it to. "That supposed to make me feel better?"
Hajime let out a slow breath. "No."
"Then why say it?"
"Because it's the truth."
I clenched my jaw. "Truth doesn't change anything. It doesn't give me back all the years I spent alone. It doesn't erase the times I needed a dad and got silence instead."
"I know."
God, I hated how calm he was. How he just accepted it, like he wasn't even trying to fight back. He should be trying. He should be saying something, anything, to make this easier to hate him for.
But instead, he just stood there, taking it, like he knew he deserved it.
I turned away, gripping the edge of the counter so hard my knuckles went white. "You don't get to come back now and act like you care."
"I'm not acting," he said simply.
I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Then you're just late. Real f***ing late."
Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. I could feel him watching me, but I refused to look at him.
After what felt like forever, Hajime exhaled, stepping away from the doorway. "I'll be around," he said. "If you ever need anything."
I scoffed, shaking my head. "Yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night."
He didn't respond. Just nodded, like he expected that answer, and walked away.
The moment he was gone, I finally let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. My shoulders ached from how tense they were, my head pounding from everything that had just happened.
I wanted to hate him.
I should hate him.
But for the first time, I wasn't sure if I still could. No, one simple sorry doesn't fix anything. In fact, it makes it worse.
I sat at the counter, fingers drumming against the surface, jaw tight. My whole body still buzzed with leftover anger, but beneath that, something else gnawed at me—something I didn't want to name.
I should be glad he walked away. I should be relieved. But all I felt was... unsettled.
With a sharp exhale, I grabbed my glass of water and downed the rest before pushing myself up from the chair. I needed to clear my head.
Maybe a shower would help.
I made my way to the bathroom, turned on the water, and stepped under the stream. The heat burned against my skin, grounding me in something real, something physical.
I had spent years telling myself that Hajime was nothing more than a shadow—a man who existed in the same house as me but had never really been there. And now, out of nowhere, he wanted to talk? To admit regret?
Bullshit.
Or at least, it should've been.
But the look in his eyes, the way his voice dropped just slightly when he spoke—no. He wasn't lying. That was the problem.
I let out a slow breath, stepping back and running a hand through my wet hair.
It didn't matter.
It was too late for him to make things right.
But before I knew it, a faint smile had spread across my face, and tears began to well up in my eyes.
Every moment with Hajime was a paradox—a part of me longed to surrender, to erase the years of silence and the unfulfilled wishes that had haunted me.
He had apologized, and I think, that's a start.
[Hajime]
Hajime stood outside the bathroom door, his back pressed against the wall. His hands were buried in his pockets, fingers clenched tightly around nothing. He could hear the water running, the muffled sound of Kaito's breath beneath the cascade of the shower. He'd said everything he could—everything he needed to, even though he'd never wanted to admit it out loud.
He rubbed his forehead, eyes closed, the words from earlier still echoing in his mind. He had failed Kaito. He knew that, deep down. But what was he supposed to do now? Could he even fix it at this point?
He felt the weight of his own regret like a heavy anchor, pulling him deeper into the ground, into the guilt he'd buried for so long. Kaito had a point—it had been too damn late. How many times had he ignored the boy? How many times had he buried himself in work, telling himself it was for the best, for Kaito's future, when all Kaito needed was him? A father. But Hajime had been too selfish, too broken, to give that.
He sighed again, feeling the guilt reel inside him. He should've tried harder. He should've been there. But every time he looked at Kaito, he only saw her. He'd loved her—he'd loved her with everything he had. And after she was gone... everything felt like it was broken, like he couldn't see anything but her absence. So he'd kept running. Running from his son. From the memory of her. From the pain.
But Kaito had never asked for that. He had never asked for his father to hide away, to be a shadow in the house they once shared. Kaito had needed him, even though Hajime hadn't been able to offer anything but silence.
His fingers tightened in his pockets.
"If I could go back..."
No. He couldn't. He couldn't change anything.
But the words Kaito had said still echoed in his mind: You had me, and you still chose to be alone.
It was true. He had chosen that. Even after all these years, after everything that had happened, he had never been able to face it. Face his son. Face the person he had become—or failed to be.
And now? Now, Kaito was out there, becoming someone else, someone far away from the broken boy he had once been. Maybe that was better for him. Maybe it was better to be distant. To keep his anger, his pain, and his confusion locked away.
But then there was that moment. That moment when Hajime had finally admitted it.
"I failed you."
It was the first time he'd said it—truly said it. The first time he'd admitted that his actions, or lack of them, had done irreparable damage.
And it was the hardest thing he'd ever done.
The weight of it pressed on him, but at least the truth was out. At least Kaito knew that Hajime had seen his mistakes, had seen how far he'd fallen. Maybe it didn't change anything. But at least it was real.
But then Kaito had said it. "You don't get to come back now and act like you care."
Hajime had no answer for that. He couldn't argue with it. It was true.
The tears he had been holding back for years—tears of guilt, of regret, of failure—had finally begun to build up behind his eyes. He hated himself for not being the father Kaito deserved. He hated that his son had been left to grow up alone, carrying all that pain by himself. And now, years later, Hajime was too late to fix it. Too late to be the father Kaito needed him to be.
He heard Kaito's footsteps, the soft shuffle as he moved around inside the bathroom. Hajime pushed himself off the wall and turned to leave. There was no use in staying here, no use in trying to convince Kaito of something he couldn't undo. He knew that. But as he reached for the door, he stopped.
"I'll be around," he had said.
Maybe he couldn't fix everything, but at least he could stop running. At least he could stop pretending like it didn't matter.
Taking one last glance at the bathroom door, Hajime exhaled and walked down the hall.
The silence in the house was almost deafening.
He had no idea what the future would look like for them, but for the first time, he was willing to stay and see. Maybe it would take years, maybe even a lifetime, to fix things.
At least this time, he would try.
[yeah, I decided against it to make this guy a negative character, but don't worry, Kaito ain't gonna succumb until like the last part of the story.]