The next day, the sky over Tokyo was gray.
Not stormy—just empty.
Like even the weather didn't know how to react.
The funeral was quiet.
Too quiet.
Only close family stood there, dressed in black, facing the framed photo of Kai Aoyama.
Haruka Aoyama stood at the front.
Her hands were shaking as she stared at her son's picture.
"…Why do we keep losing family…" she whispered.
Then her voice broke completely as she cried.
Ren stood beside her.
Still.
Silent.
His eyes locked on Kai's photo.
The red bandana in the picture made it feel unreal.
Like a joke the world was playing on him.
People spoke.
Words like "accident"… "tragic"… "too young".
But none of them reached Ren.
Nothing reached him.
Inside his mind, there was only one thought.
If I had gone with him…
If I had just said yes…
If I hadn't stayed behind…
His fingers tightened slightly.
Not sadness.
Something worse.
Self-disgust.
The funeral ended without him realizing it.
People left.
Voices faded.
His mother held onto him briefly… but even she couldn't say anything that made it better.
Because there was nothing to fix.
When they returned home, the house felt different.
Not empty.
Worse.
Missing.
Ren didn't speak.
He walked straight past his mother.
Past the hallway.
Past everything.
And went directly into his room.
The door closed behind him.
Silence again.
But this time, it was heavier.
Ren stood there for a long time.
Still in his funeral clothes.
Not moving.
Not sitting.
Just standing.
His desk was still there.
Books still open from the night before.
The room Kai used to fill with noise… now felt like it was holding its breath.
Ren slowly lowered his head.
"…This shouldn't have happened," he whispered.
His voice was barely audible.
"…It shouldn't have been him."
Outside the room, the house remained quiet.
But somewhere deep inside it…
something older than grief… was beginning to respond.
Everything felt quieter after Kai's funeral.
Even the house seemed like it had lost its sound.
Ren stayed in his room most of the time.
Not because he was resting…
but because there was nowhere else to go.
That night, he sat alone on his bed.
The room was dark except for a small light from the street outside slipping through the curtain.
His hands rested on his knees.
And for the first time since Kai died…
he spoke out loud to himself.
"…I was never like him."
His voice was low.
Almost like he didn't want to hear it himself.
"…Not when Dad was alive."
Images came back slowly.
Their father, Haruto Aoyama, smiling as he threw a baseball in the yard.
Kai laughing loudly, always running forward, always trying to catch it first.
And Ren…
standing to the side.
Watching.
Thinking.
Not joining.
Always watching.
Ren's fingers tightened slightly.
"…He was always the loud one."
His voice cracked a little.
"…Always the one who ran first."
He swallowed.
"…And I just stood there."
His breathing grew heavier.
The memories didn't feel warm anymore.
They felt like knives.
"I could've joined them…"
Ren's voice rose slightly.
"…Just once."
He clenched his fists.
"…Just ONE time."
Silence.
Then suddenly—
his anger burst out.
"WHY DIDN'T I?!"
His voice echoed through the room.
He hit the bed beside him once in frustration.
Not hard enough to break anything…
but hard enough to release something he had been holding for years.
Then it stopped.
Just as quickly as it came.
Ren lowered his head.
His hands trembled slightly.
"…Why was I always like this?"
The room stayed silent.
No answer came.
Only the feeling of emptiness pressing back at him.
Outside the room, the house remained still.
But deep inside Ren…
something had begun to shift.
Not strength.
Not peace.
Something darker.
Something tied to regret.
To be continued...