The door creaked open, tired.
— I'm home…
Harumi's voice came out on autopilot—soft, worn out, more habit than actual energy. She dropped her bag on the floor, kicked her shoes off without aiming, and took two steps forward.
Then stopped.
Right there, on the living room floor, scattered like they'd been tossed by some god of exhaustion… were eight bodies.
Snoring.An arm flung out.A leg thrown over someone else.Hair stuck from dried sweat.The smell of… lake. And dirt. And childhood.
Harumi blinked.Blinked again.
Her brain tried to process it.
— …huh.
Takeru was on his side, hugging a backpack like it was a pillow.Sora slept with his mouth open, sprawled like he'd just collapsed there by accident.Yuu looked like he'd passed out mid-motion.Kenta had an empty wrapper of something near his hand.The girls were all tangled together in the middle, Mei using Aiko's leg as a pillow.
Harumi stood there for a few seconds, completely still.
She didn't know they had friends.
Not like that.Not all together.Not… here.
Her shoulders relaxed on their own.
She smiled.
A small smile.Tired.But full.
She looked at the uniforms tossed near the door.At the shoes covered in mud and sand.At the backyard through the sliding door, where crooked chairs, a fallen umbrella, and abandoned bags looked like survivors of a small war.
And, of course…
She didn't get mad.
— …wow. — she murmured quietly. — I missed this.
Without waking anyone, she started picking things up.
She gathered the uniforms one by one, carefully.Folded them… more or less.Matched socks that clearly didn't belong together.Stacked everything in her arms and headed to the laundry room.
The washing machine started spinning, filling the house with a soft, steady hum.
"I really need to get them into a school."
she thought, almost laughing to herself.
And when she noticed all the uniforms were the same, the decision came naturally.
— Tomorrow, I'll call.
In the kitchen, she went to grab something to eat.
Opened the fridge.
Silence.
Looked again.
— …they wiped it out.
She sighed, but without any annoyance.
— Growth phase…
That's when she saw it.
A plate covered with plastic wrap.
Rice.Something breaded.
And a crooked little note, written in overly careful handwriting:
"I set this aside for you."
Harumi froze again.
Then brought a hand to her face.
— Oh my God…
She ate right there, standing, slowly, feeling the exhaustion finally settle in.
After that, she sat on the couch and started making calls.
A dad.A mom.Another mom.Another dad.
"Everything's fine.""They're sleeping.""Don't worry.""They can stay over."
She ended the last call already half-yawning.
Turned off the lights.Covered the kids with whatever she could find.
And went to sleep.
The house was full.
And for the first time in a long time…
that felt right.