They met at the riverbank after school—an unspoken signal between them now. Kaito brought two bottled teas, and Ren sat cross-legged on the grass, face turned to the setting sun like he was trying to gather strength from it.
He hadn't said much all day. Had barely looked up during class, especially not during homeroom.
Kaito didn't rush him.
They sat in quiet for a while, cicadas humming in the trees, the world slowly softening around them.
Then Ren finally spoke.
"He used to be the kind of dad who'd get up early to make pancakes on Saturdays. He'd tape my drawings to the fridge. Brag about me to his colleagues."
Kaito looked at him, quiet.
"And then," Ren said, "things got… hard. He stopped coming home on time. Started grading papers at dinner. Fought with my mom in the hall when they thought I couldn't hear. And when the divorce came, it was like he picked his job over both of us."
Ren's hands were clenched in his lap. His voice stayed even, but his eyes told the truth—sharp, guarded pain.
"I moved with my mom to Sapporo. He didn't visit. Barely called. When I transferred here, I didn't even tell him. And now—he just walks into my class like I'm a stranger."
Kaito's chest ached. "Ren…"
"I don't care if he's a teacher," Ren said, jaw tight. "He's my father. And he looked right through me."
Kaito's fists clenched in the grass. "He doesn't get to do that."
Ren blinked, surprised by the heat in Kaito's voice.
"You're not invisible," Kaito said. "You're not forgettable. And if he's too blind or too proud to see that—then I'll remind him."
Ren's eyes widened. "Kaito—"
But Kaito was already standing.
The Next Day
Kaito waited until the bell rang, then stepped into the staff room. His hands were damp, but his voice didn't shake.
"Mr. Hayashi?"
Ren's father looked up, startled. "Yes?"
Kaito bowed, politely. Formally. But his eyes didn't waver.
"I'm Kaito Sakamura. I sit next to your son."
That got his attention. The pen in his hand froze mid-note.
"I just wanted to say something," Kaito continued, carefully controlled. "Ren's not a background character in this story. He's not someone you can pretend isn't there."
Mr. Hayashi stood slowly. His expression unreadable. "You're very bold."
"Only when it matters," Kaito said. "You don't have to be his friend. But you are his father. And it hurts him more than you probably realize."
A silence stretched between them. One heavy with things unspoken.
Finally, Mr. Hayashi sighed. "I see."
Kaito nodded once. "That's all. Thank you for your time."
He turned, heart hammering, and walked out.
That Evening
Ren was waiting by the vending machines behind the gym, as if he'd known Kaito would come find him.
"You really did it," he said, stunned. "You actually went and talked to him."
Kaito gave a sheepish shrug. "Yeah. I kind of blacked out after the first sentence."
Ren laughed—a real laugh, one that cracked through the tension like sunlight through glass.
"I don't know what you said," Ren murmured, "but he actually stopped me after class today. Said we should talk… sometime."
Kaito smiled. "You don't have to, unless you're ready."
Ren stepped closer. "I'm not ready."
Kaito nodded.
"But I'm not alone either," Ren added. "And that makes it easier."
Their hands found each other without words.
Because now, even the past couldn't take away the fact that they were moving forward—together.