As they stepped past the bookstore's entrance, the warm glow from inside spilled onto the sidewalk, casting a faint reflection of the bookshelves against the glass. Hana's gaze lingered for a moment, tracing spines of the neatly stacked novels. The scent of paper and ink drifted through the slight crack in the door, stirring something deep within her—a quiet yearning she couldn't quite name.
Natsumi, walking just a step ahead, caught the hesitation in her sister's pace. She turned, following Hana's gaze before smirking knowingly. "Nee-chan, if you want to go in, just say so," she teased, rocking on her heels.
Hana blinked, straightening her posture as if caught off guard. "It's fine. We should keep moving."
Natsumi folded her arms, unconvinced. "Hmmm… Are you sure? Because you're staring at that place like a lost puppy."
Hana let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. "I'm not."
"You are," Natsumi insisted, stepping closer. "Usually, if we find a bookstores, you enter without a second thought . But this time, you look like you're trying to talk yourself out of going in."
Hana sighed, nudging her sister forward. "You make it sound dramatic."
Natsumi grinned. "That's because it is. You love books, but you never hesitate before stepping in ."
Hana didn't answer right away. She glanced back at the bookstore one last time before exhaling. "I don't know… Sometimes, it feels like if I go in, I'll lose track of time. Like I'll get stuck in there and forget the real world exists."
Natsumi raised a brow. "That's kind of poetic."
"Or just weird," Hana muttered.
Her sister giggled, looping her arm through Hana's. "Come on, Hana-nee!"
The soft chime of the bell above the door rang as Hana and Natsumi stepped inside. The air was thick with the scent of aged paper and freshly printed pages, a quiet refuge from the noise outside. Warm lighting cast gentle shadows over the rows of bookshelves, each one filled with stories waiting to be discovered.
Hana moved almost on instinct, her feet carrying her deeper into the store as if something unseen was guiding her. She wasn't looking for anything in particular, yet her fingers skimmed over the book spines as she walked, drawn forward by an odd sense of familiarity. Then, she stopped.
A single book sat on the shelf, slightly worn at the edges, its cover faded with time. There was nothing striking about it—no elaborate design, no bold title—yet something about it called to her. A strange feeling stirred in her chest, a pull she couldn't explain. Without thinking, she reached out.
Just as her fingertips brushed the cover, a voice snapped her out of her trance.
"Are you gonna buy that?"
Hana turned to see Natsumi standing beside her, arms crossed with a teasing glint in her eyes.
Hana blinked, as if waking from a dream. "I… I don't know," she admitted, glancing back at the book.
Natsumi raised a brow. "Huhh?. Usually, you either know exactly what you want or spend hours deciding."
Hana let out a soft chuckle. "I guess this one just… caught my attention."
Natsumi leaned in, eyeing the book with curiosity. "Must be fate, then."
Hana exhaled, her fingers still hovering over the cover.
Hana:(Fate… Maybe. But why did it feel like more than that?)
The soft chime of the register rang as Hana placed the exact amount on the counter, her movements fluid and graceful. The cashier handed her the small paper bag with a polite nod, and she accepted it with a quiet, appreciative smile. The book inside felt significant, though she couldn't quite explain why.
Stepping outside, the cool evening air wrapped around them, crisp yet refreshing. The city lights flickered to life, casting a soft glow over the pavement. Hana walked with natural elegance—measured steps, back straight—while Natsumi bounced lightly beside her, her short strides filled with energy.
A content sigh suddenly escaped Natsumi as she clasped her hands behind her back. "Today was really fun!"
Hana glanced at her with a small, amused smile. "Oh?"
"Yeah," Natsumi chirped, kicking a pebble and watching it roll ahead. "I mean, we haven't done this in a while. Just the two of us. It makes me happy."
Hana slowed slightly, her expression softening. There was something so pure, so genuine in Natsumi's words—it made her heart swell in a way she hadn't expected.
Without hesitation, she turned and gently pulled Natsumi into a hug.
"Wha—?! Nee-chan?!" Natsumi squeaked, her arms flailing before getting trapped against Hana's poised embrace. "W-What's this for?!"
Hana let out a quiet chuckle, resting her chin lightly on Natsumi's head. "Just… thank you."
Natsumi blinked, her cheeks puffing slightly. "H-Huh? For what?"
"For enjoying our time together," Hana murmured, her voice calm and soothing.
Natsumi's flustered squirming slowed, and after a moment, she let out a small sigh, her body relaxing into the hug. Then, much to Hana's surprise, Natsumi's tiny hand reached up and gently patted Hana's head.
Her touch was soft—warm, full of care. She smoothed down Hana's hair, like she was comforting a child. "Nee-chan, you're always taking care of me," she said, her voice unusually gentle. "So… just for a little bit, let me take care of you too."
Hana's breath hitched slightly. It was such a simple gesture, yet it struck something deep within her.
She closed her eyes for a brief moment, allowing herself to melt into the quiet affection. "You're growing up too fast," she whispered.
Natsumi giggled, continuing to pat Hana's head with exaggerated care. "Hehe, I know, I know. But admit it—this feels nice, doesn't it?"
Hana exhaled a soft laugh, finally pulling back. "Mm. It does."
Natsumi beamed with pride, but before she could gloat too much, Hana suddenly cupped Natsumi's cheeks with both hands, smushing them slightly.
"Mmfph—?! Nee-chaaan?!" Natsumi flailed, her words muffled by her squished face.
Hana's eyes twinkled with mischief. "I just had to return the favor."
"Not fair!!" Natsumi pouted, puffing her cheeks even more. "I was having a moment, and you ruined it!"
Hana smiled, letting go but smoothing out Natsumi's slightly disheveled hair. "You're the one who started patting my head first."
Natsumi huffed, dramatically fixing her hair.But despite her grumbling, her cheeks were still pink.
Hana tucked the book closer to her chest, watching her little sister pout with the faintest smile. "…Shall we get some warm drinks before heading home?"
Natsumi's face lit up instantly. "Ooh, can I get something sweet?"
Hana chuckled. "If you insist."
The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the air as Hana and Natsumi stepped into the cozy café. The soft hum of conversations and clinking cups created a relaxing atmosphere, and Natsumi's eyes sparkled the moment she spotted the display case filled with cakes.
"Nee-chan! Look! They have strawberry shortcake!" she gasped, pressing her hands against the glass like a child in front of a toy store.
Hana chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I see it, I see it. Do you want that one?"
Natsumi turned to her with wide, pleading eyes. "Can I?"
Hana smiled, already walking toward the counter. "Of course."
Within minutes, the cake was packed neatly in a small box, and as they stepped outside, their car was already waiting at the curb. The sleek black vehicle stood under the warm glow of the streetlights, the driver giving them a polite nod as he stepped out to open the door.
As they slid inside, Natsumi cradled the cake box like it was the most precious thing in the world. "This is gonna be so good."
Hana glanced at her, amused. "You really do love sweets."
"Duh," Natsumi grinned, hugging the box to her chest. "And since I'm nice, I'll even let you have some."
The drive home was smooth, the gentle hum of the engine lulling the city's noise into a distant murmur. By the time they arrived, the warm glow of their family estate welcomed them back.
As they stepped inside, a familiar voice greeted them from the entrance.
"Oh? What's this?"
Renji, their older brother, leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on his lips. His sharp yet laid-back presence filled the space effortlessly. "Is that cake… for me?"
Natsumi gasped dramatically, holding the box closer. "Eh?! How did you know?"
Renji raised an eyebrow, feigning deep thought. "Older brother intuition~"
Hana shook her head with a soft sigh. "More like you just saw the box."
Natsumi giggled, then held the box out proudly. "It's for everyone! I'm gonna share!"
Renji chuckled, ruffling her hair. "Now that's my cute little sister."
"H-Hey! My hair—" Natsumi pouted, trying to fix it while Hana watched with a quiet, amused smile.
Renji glanced at Hana and smirked. "And you? Did you buy something for your lovely brother~? "
Hana gave him a knowing look but didn't answer, instead walking past him gracefully. "I'll be in my room."
Renji raised an eyebrow, watching her go before turning back to Natsumi. "She totally did, didn't she?"
Natsumi ahake eagerly. "Nope. I don't think that Hana-nee plan too anyway."
Renji laugh it off. "Oh? Hahahaha…"
As they headed further inside, the warmth of home surrounded them—the scent of evening tea, the faint chatter of their family, and the comforting feeling of being exactly where they belonged.
[Later that night, during dinner in Fujimura estate…]
The gentle clink of silverware against fine porcelain echoed through the grand dining hall, where the Fujimura family dined in quiet elegance. The atmosphere was composed, refined—until Natsumi, brimming with excitement, broke the silence.
"Father! Today Me and Hana-nee went to a shopping mall!" she chirped, sitting up straighter.
Masaru, seated at the head of the table, didn't glance up. "I see." His voice was steady, cool.
Natsumi pouted. "That's all?"
A brief pause. Then, without shifting his expression, Masaru asked, "Did you enjoy yourself?"
Her face brightened instantly. "Mhm! It was fun! We also went to a bookstore, and Nee-chan got weird when she saw a book. She just stared at it forever before buying it!"
Hana, barely spared her a glance. "I did no such thing."
"Yes, you do!."
Renji smirked. "That does sound like you."
Masaru finally looked up slightly, his gaze calm yet piercing.
"Book?"
Hana placed her knife down with graceful ease. "It's about an old historical tale," she explained. "A forgotten account of a post-war era. It caught my attention."
Masaru studied her for a moment before returning to his meal. "As long as it doesn't interfere with your studies."
Sayuri, who had been silently observing, dabbed her lips with a napkin. "Hana has always been diligent. I doubt she would allow herself to be distracted."
Masaru gave a slow nod. "Good."
Natsumi, clearly unimpressed with the lack of excitement, huffed. "Oh! And when we got home, I patted Nee-chan's head."
This time, Sayuri let out a quiet chuckle, while Renji nearly choked on his drink. "You what?"
Hana sighed, exhaling through her nose. "She insists on misremembering."
"Nope! And she liked it."
Masaru's gaze flickered toward Hana. "Is that so?" His tone was unreadable.
Hana took a calm sip of tea, not meeting his gaze. "It was acceptable."
Natsumi leaned in, grinning. "Admit it, Nee-chan. You loved it."
Hana's expression remained poised, but a subtle twitch of her brow betrayed her.
Masaru set his glass down. "Eat."
That was the end of the conversation.
As the meal continued, he subtly nudged a dish closer to Natsumi's side, ensuring she ate properly. Sayuri watched with an amused glint in her eyes but said nothing.
A servant stepped forward to refill Masaru's cup, but he lifted a hand—barely a gesture, yet commanding. "That will do."
Even in silence, his presence was absolute…
[After dinner…]
As the quiet murmur of dinner faded, Hana set down her utensils with practiced grace. She folded her napkin neatly before glancing at Masaru.
"I'll excuse myself now," she said, her voice even.
Masaru gave a slight nod, offering no objection. Sayuri met her gaze briefly, as if understanding, before returning to her tea.
Hana rose, her movements fluid, and left the dining hall. The faint tapping of her heels against the marble floor was the only sound accompanying her as she made her way upstairs.
Once inside her room, she exhaled softly. Without hesitation, she gathered her nightwear and entered the bathroom.
The warm water cascaded over her, easing the lingering tension in her shoulders. Yet, despite the comfort, a peculiar weight pressed at the back of her mind—an unease she couldn't quite place.
After drying off and changing into a modest but comfortable set of loungewear, she returned to her room. The elegant glow of her desk lamp cast a soft light across her workspace.
She opened her notebook and reached for a pen. It was time to study.
Hana's posture was poised, her eyes scanning over the words on the page. She underlined key points, her handwriting precise, her focus unwavering.
At least, until—
Her pen moved before she realized it.
A name.
The ink settled on the crisp white paper, forming letters that felt eerily familiar.
Hana blinked, her breath catching slightly.
She stared at the name. It shouldn't mean anything. And yet… something in her chest tightened.
The name felt known. As if it belonged to someone she should remember.
Where…?
Her mind drifted—to the dream. The dream she had this morning. The one she hadn't thought about all day.
Her fingers tightened around the pen. The images were blurred, distant, just out of reach.
Hana:(But that name—)
Just as the pieces began to fall into place, the sound of her door clicking open jolted her back to reality.
Masaru.
He stepped inside, his presence composed yet firm. His gaze flickered toward her notebook, then back to her.
"You're distracted," he stated—not a question, but an observation.
Hana snapped the notebook shut, concealing the name beneath her fingertips.
"…No."
Masaru didn't look convinced.
The weight of his stare lingered, as if peeling apart the quiet walls she had built.
Yet, in typical Masaru fashion, he didn't pry.
Instead, he simply said—
"Don't let it affect your studies."
Masaru didn't move, yet his presence alone was suffocating. The dim light of her study cast shadows over his sharp features, making him appear even more imposing.
"Hana."
His voice carried a weight that left no room for defiance. It wasn't loud—it didn't need to be.
Hana straightened instinctively, setting down her pen with quiet precision before turning to face him. "Yes, Father?"
He studied her, eyes cold, piercing. The silence stretched between them, measured and deliberate.
"Natsumi said she patted your head."
Hana didn't react. Her expression remained poised, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "She did."
Masaru's gaze sharpened. "Why?"
A simple question. Yet, the weight behind it made the room feel colder.
Hana's lips curved into the faintest, most delicate of smiles. "She was expressing her affection."
Masaru remained unmoved. His eyes bore into hers, searching for something, dissecting her every word.
"You allowed it?"
Hana held his gaze, unshaken. "She is my little sister."
His silence was deafening.
Then, after a moment—
"You're not troubled by anything,do you?"
The shift in his tone was subtle—so subtle that most wouldn't notice. But Hana did. Beneath the strictness, beneath the authority, there was something else.
Concern.
She lowered her lashes slightly, choosing her words with precision. "No, Father. I am not."
A long pause.
Masaru studied her for a moment longer before finally turning away. "Good."
Just as he reached the door, he stopped. Without looking back, he added—
"Make sure it stays that way."
Then, he left.
Hana remained still, listening as his footsteps faded down the hall.
A slow exhale left her lips.
He must have thought something was wrong.
A small, almost amused smile flickered across her face.
Her father was terrifying. But even in his strictness… he cared…
The door clicked shut, leaving a lingering weight in the air.
Hana remained motionless, listening as silence stretched across her room. Slowly, she exhaled, her breath measured, deliberate.
Her fingers traced the open page of her notebook, pausing over the name she had unknowingly written.
The ink stood out against the pristine paper—an unfamiliar name, yet somehow… not unfamiliar at all.
She stared at it, an inexplicable tension curling in her chest.
But then—
A different memory surfaced.
The boy at the bus stop.
The way his dark hair framed his face, his sharp yet hesitant gaze, the way his lips parted slightly as if he had something to say but chose not to—
Her breath caught.
A slow, unbearable warmth crept up her neck, spreading to her cheeks before she could stop it.
Hana's fingers twitched—then suddenly, both her hands flew up to her face, cupping her burning cheeks.
A small, muffled noise escaped her lips.
Her elegant posture crumbled as she buried herself in her palms.
She squeezed her eyes shut, but it was no use. The image of him had already taken root in her mind—those mysterious, brooding eyes, the fleeting way he glanced at her, as if caught between curiosity and hesitation.
Her heart fluttered, traitorous.
"This is nonsense…" she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, muffled against her hands.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she pressed her palms against her warm face.
Her heartbeats felt annoyingly loud.
Hana forced herself to move, standing swiftly. The hem of her nightgown brushed against her legs as she turned, as if trying to physically shake the thoughts away.
She reached for the light switch but stopped.
The notebook still lay open.
The name staring back at her.
And in her mind—
That boy.
Hana inhaled sharply, then shut the notebook with a quiet snap.
Enough.
She flicked off the light and slipped beneath her covers, pulling the blanket over her head.
I need to sleep.
She closed her eyes, forcing her mind to empty.
Her breath slowed. Her body relaxed.
The warmth in her chest faded into the stillness of the night.
But just as her thoughts began to settle—
A whisper.
Soft. Distant. Familiar.
Calling her.
The darkness behind her closed eyelids began to shift.
She felt herself drifting.
Somewhere… else.
The air around her grew thick, heavy—nostalgic.
And then—
A flash of gold.
A voice—deep, yet gentle.
"…You finally came back."
Hana's eyes snapped open—
But it wasn't her room she woke up to…
End of chapter 11