At the dinner table
Koshiro set down his chopsticks, clearing his throat. "It seems Kaiho needs his own room."
Mikoto, mid-bite, froze. "What?"
Kaiho sighed, poking at his rice. "Yeah, after getting crushed by Mom in her sleep, I don't think I can handle it anymore. If this keeps up, I'll die."
Mikoto frowned. "We could always get a bigger bed if that's the issue."
Koshiro shook his head. "I don't think that's the problem. Kaiho's growing up, and it's only natural for him to want his personal space."
Mikoto's eyes narrowed as she turned to Kaiho. "You don't want personal space… do you?" Her tone was calm, but the look in her eyes was anything but.
Kaiho straightened up, waving his hands. "Nope! No, I'm good!"
Mikoto huffed, leaning back. "Fine, I guess I've been a little clingy."
Kaiho let out a silent sigh of relief.
Mikoto crossed her arms. "Well, I suppose it's about time we opened that door."
Kaiho tilted his head. "What door?"
Koshiro smirked. "Your room."
Kaiho blinked. "My… room?"
Koshiro coughed awkwardly, trying to break the silence that followed.
The next morning
The three of them stood in front of an old, closed door in the hallway.
Mikoto opened it, revealing a cramped space packed with boxes, random furniture, and a fine layer of dust. "It's a total mess."
Koshiro rubbed the back of his head. "It's been used as storage since…" His voice trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished.
A heavy silence fell over the room for a moment before Koshiro clapped his hands. "Alright, no time to waste! Let's get started!"
Kaiho stepped inside, surveying the chaos. "There's not much dust."
Koshiro grinned. "I've been cleaning it every now and then. It's just that it's, well, filled with other stuff."
Kaiho gestured to the towering stacks of boxes. "Filled to this extent? There's barely any space to walk. What's even inside these?"
As he spoke, a precarious stack of boxes wobbled and tipped toward Kaiho.
"Careful!" Koshiro lunged forward, catching the box just before it could crash down on Kaiho and Mikoto.
Mikoto grabbed his arm. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Kaiho muttered, brushing himself off.
As Koshiro set the box down, the tape holding it closed came undone, and an old photo album slid out onto the floor.
The three of them froze, their eyes locked on the album.
Kaiho bent down and picked it up. "What's this?"
Mikoto's expression softened as she glanced at Koshiro. He nodded silently, and they both stepped closer.
"Open it," Mikoto said quietly.
Kaiho hesitated, feeling a sudden weight in the room, before slowly flipping the album open.
Kaiho opened the album and froze. The pictures staring back at him were of a boy who looked exactly like him—or rather, the person he was pretending to be.
Mikoto crouched beside him, taking the album gently from his hands, her face lighting up with warmth and nostalgia. "Oh, look at this one," she said, pointing to a photo. "We took this on the day you were born."
Kaiho's gaze followed her finger. The picture showed a glowing Mikoto, holding a swaddled infant, with Koshiro standing proudly beside her.
Mikoto chuckled as she flipped through more pages, holding up a picture of a toddler clutching a wooden sword. "This was when you insisted on being a warrior like your dad. You wouldn't let go of that sword for weeks!"
Kaiho managed a small smile, glancing at Koshiro. The older man wore a faint grin, but there was something off—a flicker of discomfort in his eyes.
Mikoto continued flipping through the album, laughing softly. "Oh, and here's the time you tried to 'help' with dinner. Remember that, Koshiro? He made such a mess that we had to eat out that night!"
Koshiro chuckled weakly. "Yeah… I remember." But his tone lacked the warmth of her reminiscence, and his gaze seemed distant, as though lost in another time.
Kaiho remained quiet, watching them both as they recounted memories that didn't belong to him. His stomach churned with unease, and he forced himself to smile, even as his chest tightened.
"…Kaiho?" Mikoto's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
He blinked, realizing she was holding up another photo for him to see. "Uh… yeah?"
"You've been quiet," she said, her brow furrowing slightly.
"Oh, uh, just… reminiscing," he stammered, scratching the back of his head. "These are great memories."
As Mikoto continued chatting, Kaiho's smile wavered. He thought to himself, I almost forgot… I'm not Kaiho. None of this is mine. This is all an act.
His gaze dropped to the album in Mikoto's hands, his chest tightening further. I don't belong here.
But as Mikoto laughed again, her voice filled with joy, he pushed those thoughts aside, forcing his discomfort deep down. For now, he decided, he would play the role of the son they believed him to be.
Kaiho's mind spiraled as he felt Mikoto's arms wrap tightly around him.
"I feel sick… I feel sick… I feel sick," he thought, his chest tightening painfully.
Mikoto's voice was soft, warm, and filled with unwavering love. "I love you, Kaiho… I always have… and I always will."
Her words stabbed into him, deeper than he thought possible. Don't say that to me, he thought. I don't deserve to hear that.
Mikoto smiled against his shoulder. "Thank you, Kaiho. The day you were born, I was so happy. So, so happy to have you."
Kaiho swallowed hard, his throat burning. I feel disgusted with myself… but at the same time… even though I don't deserve their love, I want it. Am I greedy to think this?
Before he could process further, Koshiro stepped forward, wrapping his strong arms around both Mikoto and Kaiho, completing the embrace.
Kaiho's head swam. It's just an act. It's just an act, he repeated to himself, trying to keep his composure.
But then, as though from nowhere, a voice echoed in his mind.
Koshiro's calm, deep voice spoke through telepathy. "At first, I was only grateful toward you, Kaiho. But now… I love you, too. I know I'm not your biological father, but that doesn't matter to me. You're my son."
Kaiho froze. His carefully constructed walls cracked, his breath catching in his throat.
"What do I do? I don't deserve this… But… I love them."
The emotions became too much, and tears streamed uncontrollably down his face. He clung to Mikoto and Koshiro, unable to contain the overwhelming mixture of guilt, love, and longing.
Mikoto pulled back slightly, alarmed. "Hey, why are you suddenly crying?"
Kaiho couldn't answer, his voice lost in the torrent of emotions.
But neither Mikoto nor Koshiro let him go. They held him close, sharing a warm, unspoken understanding.
And for the first time, Kaiho allowed himself to fully feel the love they were offering, no matter how undeserving he thought he was.