Chapter 25: Exhausted
So tired, I'm about to collapse.
After a long, exhausting day of work and study, I finally managed to drag myself back home.
As soon as I opened the door, the rich, pungent smell of hot chicken curry hit me like a wave.
It wasn't exactly an appetizing aroma—strong, a bit too salty, and overwhelming in its intensity—but with my stomach growling in hunger, any scent that suggested food was enough to make it protest.
I wondered if Yuki had made it or if Aunt Harumi had come home early to cook.
"Welcome back!"
"Welcome home, Shinji."
There was no need for further questioning; the greeting came in unison from the two familiar voices. It was none other than the Hoshizora mother and daughter, two incredibly beautiful women who had entered my life as part of this new, unexpected family.
Honestly, it still feels a little strange, this sudden shift from living alone to having them around. It's embarrassing, in a way, how much I've come to appreciate the presence of these two, yet I'm still not quite used to it.
"…Yes, I'm back."
Since I was still not entirely comfortable with this new dynamic, I awkwardly smiled and gave a casual reply, trying my best to seem normal despite the strange mix of exhaustion and the unfamiliar warmth I felt in their company.
***
After a dinner that could be described as "so-so," I headed for a bath, hoping for a quick, refreshing cold shower to cool off.
But when I opened the bathroom door, I realized the mother and daughter hadn't quite gotten used to my usual routine yet. They had prepared a hot bath for me in advance, clearly wanting to take care of me.
Sigh… I hate wasting their efforts, but at the same time, it's not what I'm used to.
If I don't use it, it's a waste, but if I do, it's not my usual choice.
"Tch, maybe next time I should tell them, so they won't go through all this trouble," I muttered to myself, clicking my tongue in slight frustration. Despite the resistance, I reluctantly eased into the hot bath, letting the warmth envelop me.
The bath was a bit small—just the right size for the Hoshizoras, but not quite spacious enough for Dad and me.
When I say that, it's not because it's bad; it's just that my mood today isn't great. After working non-stop from noon till night, I felt completely drained, both physically and mentally. I just wanted to rest.
Sigh… and there's homework too, I reminded myself. I should get out and tackle it. The thought of that, however, didn't have much power over me.
My body, exhausted from the long day, felt as though it had no energy left to move. The hot water seemed to pull me in deeper, like a black hole, luring me to stay just a bit longer.
It's been so long since… actually, no, this is the first time someone else has prepared a bath for me, and I had to admit, it felt really nice.
The warmth slowly melted away the tension in my body, washing off the dust and sweat that had accumulated throughout the day. I could even smell a faint hint of cherry blossoms in the water, which helped calm my mind which had been a chaotic mess all day.
It wasn't bad at all, in fact, it felt almost... wonderful.
The warmth of the water, the quiet solitude, the chance to unwind for even just a moment. I closed my eyes and let the steam wrap around me, feeling my muscles slowly relax.
Maybe I should try taking baths like this more often, I thought to myself. A simple indulgence that felt like a rare luxury in my chaotic life. If I could find the time, of course.
That was the problem, wasn't it?
Time. I was buried in work, drowning in tasks that piled up with every passing day. I couldn't even remember the last time I had a moment to just breathe, to stop and relax.
Every minute felt precious and fleeting, and the more I had to do, the less I seemed to have for myself.
But I couldn't afford to stop now. Not when so much was on the line. Every goal, every deadline, every promise I had made—it all loomed over me like an unyielding weight.
If I stopped now, even for a second, I might miss something important, and that could lead to failure. I couldn't allow myself to rest, not when there was so much to accomplish.
My to-do list was endless, and every time I checked something off, another obligation took its place.
It was exhausting, and draining, but I told myself that I had no choice. I had to keep pushing forward, no matter how tired or overwhelmed I felt. If I stopped, I might lose my way entirely.
So, as the warm water soaked into my skin, I couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration.
A brief moment of peace was fleeting and out of reach in this relentless cycle. I had no time to enjoy it or indulge in something as simple as a bath.
I had to stay focused and keep working. My objectives were waiting, and they wouldn't be satisfied unless I gave them everything I had.
"Time to study," I said to myself."The decision was made. I pulled myself out of the bath with a deep breath, dried off, and slipped into my usual clothes.
Though I call them "usual," the truth is, I don't really have any other style. Aside from my school uniform, it's just that one set of clothes. I don't bother with anything else. As I don't go out on my days off, there's no need to dress up.
I shook my head to dry off the lingering water droplets and stepped out of the bathroom, ready to finish off all the work left behind.
And that's when I caught Aunt Harumi sitting on the couch, intently watching TV.
A Korean drama, huh? It's such a typical choice for moms. I couldn't help but notice, though, that I kind of liked these dramas too.
Of course, there were elements I wasn't fond of—like the whole trope of standing up to bullies or the poor girl being swept off her feet by a handsome guy.
It's all so unrealistic. In real life, if no one steps in to help, you're left with no choice but to take the abuse. And people stay in their own lanes; you don't expect to get anything better than what you already have.
But then again, maybe that's not entirely true. Ota managed to get Kurumi's attention, after all.
Though, to be honest, I'm pretty sure she's just playing him. But who knows? Maybe they really are in love, and I'm just too cynical to see it. Maybe I'm just jealous.
Lost in those thoughts, I walked toward my room, ready to bury myself in study, when suddenly Aunt Harumi sprang up from the couch and grabbed my hand.
"Shinji, are you free? I'd like to talk to you privately for a bit." Her tone was uncharacteristically serious, not the usual playful banter that never seemed to match her age.
The shift in her demeanor caught me off guard. I had been expecting her to tease me or make a joke, but this was different. With how serious she sounded, I figured studying could wait.
"…Okay," I replied softly, a little unsure of what was coming. I followed her to the sofa, where she motioned for me to sit next to her.
A silence settled between us as I sat down. I could feel her eyes on me, waiting for something, and I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever she wanted to discuss was important.
Seeing her like that, I didn't say anything. I just watched, unsure of what to do or say next. We both sat there, silently staring at each other, neither of us breaking the silence.
At that moment, an awkward, heavy distance seemed to form between us, a silence that felt oddly forced.
It wasn't like the usual easy atmosphere I had with others—it felt like something was weighing down on the space between us.
Wow, these two really are alike. I couldn't help but think of how similar Aunt Harumi's demeanor was to the Hoshizoras. It was all calm and quiet, but something felt off, like they were both waiting for something to shift.
But unlike the situation with Yuki or Aunt Harumi's usual playful banter, it was Aunt Harumi who spoke first.
"Shinji, thank you for helping Yuki." She placed her hand on her chest, her voice unexpectedly sincere, with no trace of the usual politeness or sweetness.
It was almost like she was speaking from the heart, and I couldn't quite figure out what to make of it.
"It's nothing. It's my responsibility." I nodded lightly and responded, my tone casual and almost automatic. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary—just the expected answer.
But for some reason, Aunt Harumi didn't seem satisfied with my response. Maybe it was the way my face looked—too polite, too neutral.
She seemed to be looking for something more, and I could sense her disappointment, though she didn't say anything.
"…Actually, Masanori has told us a lot about you, even before we decided to remarry. And you were one of the main reasons we made that decision."
Huh? Wait, what did she just say? This remarriage is because of me? I blinked, confused, and my mind tried to process her words. It didn't make sense.
Why would I be a reason for their decision? The thought left me feeling a bit dazed.
Before I could ask her to clarify, Aunt Harumi followed up with another question, this one even more perplexing.
"So, in your opinion, what does'responsibility' mean?"
What? What kind of question is that? What does responsibility mean?
To me, it was simple—it was about the things I had to do, the things that were expected of me. There was nothing special about it. But maybe I wasn't understanding something.
"…To become the best person I can be, to help others, so I don't have to trouble anyone," I said, answering with the confidence I usually had in these situations. This answer, I thought, would surely impress her.
It was straightforward and practical, and it fit my image of someone who had everything under control.
That's what I thought, but Aunt Harumi took my answer in a completely different direction. After hearing my response, she frowned and muttered, "Oh my God." She placed her hand on her forehead, letting out a long, frustrated sigh.
Wait, did I say something wrong? I didn't really get it. What was wrong with what I said?
"You two really are alike," she said, sounding incredibly disappointed. She was clearly comparing me to Yuki, but in what way? I had no idea.
We were alike in the sense that we both carried some kind of responsibility, but it felt like there was something deeper that I was missing.
It was all so confusing.
"I'll be blunt with you, Shinji," Aunt Harumi said, her tone serious. "The'responsibility' you're talking about? You need to relax; don't take it so seriously."
At that moment, I thought I understood what she meant. She was just trying to tell me to take a step back and not burden myself so much. It was coming from a place of care.
I knew that much. She just wanted me to be less intense, to let go a little.
But the thing is, I already knew that adults often saw me as a kid trying too hard to be strong.
They probably thought I was just being overly hard on myself. It's true, I suppose. But what they didn't understand is that I actually enjoy it this way.
I like pushing myself and testing my limits, even when it feels like I might break. It's the way I find meaning in things. I don't mind being exhausted, as long as I'm doing it for something I care about.
I want to be strong. I want to be the kind of person who can handle anything and who doesn't need anyone else's help.
Both mentally and physically. And right now, that means carrying the weight of everything—whether it's responsibilities, work, or taking care of others. It's the only way I know how to live.
I must have the fortitude to avoid making the same error that destroyed my childhood.
If I were strong enough, smart enough, and caring enough, maybe my mother wouldn't have abandoned me.
If I had tried harder back then, if I had helped both of them, maybe my family wouldn't have fallen apart.
If I had gritted my teeth and endured my mother's blows, maybe none of this would have happened.
I should have been stronger back then, instead of crying and resisting.
Whenever I think about this, it hurts. It's the kind of pain that's hard to control, a deep ache that never seems to go away.
My voice grew quieter, the weight of my emotions making it harder to speak.
I asked directly, "Why? I don't understand. Isn't it better the more you demand of yourself, the higher your sense of duty?"
Aunt Harumi's response was delayed. She opened her mouth as if to answer, but then paused, closing it without saying anything more.
Her eyes fell, staring down at the ground; a look of sadness settled on her face. Was she disappointed in me? Did she think I didn't understand?
"Hmm, maybe we should talk about this later. Sorry for troubling you," she said, her voice quieter than usual. With a tired sigh, she stood up and walked to her room.
It seemed like I hadn't given the right answers. It felt like I still didn't understand Harumi Hoshizora, or maybe the situation as a whole, well enough.
I didn't feel like I was doing anything right, and the frustration of it all hit me hard.
I felt awful. Lowering my head, I sighed, a long, heavy breath escaping me.
"…"
Forget it. I'll just go to my room and study. Maybe if I lose myself in that, I'll feel better.
Tired, I grabbed a few cans of beer from the cupboard—something to help me unwind—and walked into my room.
The place where I could be alone, the place that felt like a sanctuary after a long, exhausting day.
That's what I thought at first, but when I stepped into the room, the sight before me made my heart skip a beat.
There she was—Yuki Hoshizora—lying quietly on my bed, her presence unexpectedly delicate and yet overwhelming.
Her clothes were drastically different from her usual modest school uniform. Instead of the expected conservative attire, she was wearing revealing clothes—a thin, almost transparent T-shirt that barely concealed the outline of her bra.
Her smooth, rosy thighs were exposed, drawing my attention in a way I couldn't ignore. The sight of her laid out so casually on my bed stirred something deep within me, and it reminded me of that unforgettable first night—one I could neither forget nor fully understand.
"Shinji," she said softly, her voice almost too sweet, "can I borrow a few books?" She noticed my quiet, somewhat gloomy demeanor and, without missing a beat, gently closed the book she was reading and looked at me with those innocent eyes.
"Sure," I replied absentmindedly, trying to maintain my composure. I nodded and sat at the desk, my thoughts swirling.
Honestly, with that cute, almost angelic face of hers, I couldn't refuse her. It felt like I never could. In fact, there was nothing I could ever deny her—except, of course, if it ever crossed a certain line.
Yuki didn't say much after that. She just kept her gaze fixed on the can of beer I was holding, her eyes lingering on it as she returned to reading.
It wasn't a disapproving glance, not really. I told myself she probably didn't mind me drinking, and that calmed my nerves a little as I tried to focus on my homework.
The beer, I thought, was just a way to unwind, a temporary escape from the weight of everything weighing on me.
I kept working through the haze, each sip of beer making the world feel a little softer, a little easier to bear.
It wasn't the best way to cope, but at that moment, it was the only way I knew how. The more I drank, the more detached I became from my worries, and for a while, I could almost forget about the tension that had been building between us.
Time slipped away unnoticed as I worked through the tasks before me. The quiet of the room, the faint sound of Yuki turning pages, and the steady relief the beer brought me seemed to lull me into a state of autopilot.
I didn't realize how much time had passed until I looked up and saw the clock. It was well past midnight.
My mind had reached its limit, and my sanity was dwindling.
And she is sleeping.
Completely unguarded.
"Oh…no."
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