Naoki's school day began like any other—an empty shuffle through the hallways, the weight of his backpack nothing compared to the heaviness in his chest. He kept his head down, eyes flicking over lockers and posters until he reached his first class. His friends waved, but his smile felt forced, brittle.
When the bell rang for lunch, he grabbed a rice ball from the cafeteria line, barely tasting it, and slipped out the side door. He needed air. He needed distance from the smiling faces that seemed to blur together into something unrecognizable.
Outside, the courtyard was half-frozen, patches of grass still poking through the brittle frost. Naoki drew in a shuddering breath, pressing his forehead against the cold metal railing. He closed his eyes and let the winter wind clear his mind, even if only for a moment.
He thought of home—his mother in the hospital, hooked up to tubes and machines he barely understood. He thought of his father's grave, silent beneath the snow. He thought of Ren and Hana waiting on the rooftop, innocent in comparison to the battles he fought every day.
A soft voice startled him. "Naoki?"
He turned to see Ren standing a few feet away, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, eyes concerned.
"Hey," Ren said, moving to stand beside him. "You okay?"
Naoki forced a grin. "Yeah, just… needed a minute."
Ren nodded, but didn't pry. He stayed quiet, offering company without words.
After a long moment, Naoki let out a breath. "Thanks."
Ren gave him a small smile. "Let's grab something to eat together?"
Naoki hesitated. He almost said no, almost walked away. But then he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, that'd be nice.
— — —
The hospital corridors were bright and smelled faintly of antiseptic. Naoki walked down the hall with a paper bag in one hand and a bouquet of pale yellow flowers in the other. His mother's room number felt like an echo in his mind: 407.
He paused outside the door, glanced at the nameplate—Sora Akiyama—and knocked lightly.
"Come in," his mother's voice called.
He opened the door and stepped inside. The room was small: a single window overlooking the street, a hospital bed with crisp white sheets, a reclining chair by the side. His mother lay in bed, propped up on pillows, an IV line in her arm.
"Hey, Mom," Naoki said softly, setting the bag on the tray table and placing the flowers in a plastic vase. He knelt beside the bed.
She smiled. Her hair was thinner than he remembered, her cheeks a little sunken. "You didn't have to come today."
"I wanted to," he replied. "How are you feeling?"
"Hey, don't joke," she said with a weak laugh. "You know lupus never takes a day off."
He swallowed back emotion. "I brought melon bread. I remembered it was your favorite."
Her tired eyes brightened. She took a small bite and sighed softly.
"You're doing a lot, Naoki," she said after a moment, voice soft. "School, work… me. Are you okay?"
He shook his head but kept smiling. "I'm fine."
"I know that lie," she sighed. "Just don't burn yourself out."
"I won't," he promised.
They sat together for a while, talking about small things—homework deadlines, cafeteria grilled cheese triumphs, a new mystery novel Naoki wanted to read. Her laughter was quiet but real, and for a little while, Naoki felt the tight knot of worry loosen.
— — —
That weekend, Naoki stepped off the bus and walked down the gravel path to the small cemetery on the outskirts of town. The ground was frozen, the tombstones dusted with snow. He carried a thermos of hot tea and a small box of popcorn.
His father's grave was near the back, a simple stone marker etched with two names: Tetsuo Sora and Sora Akiyama. Naoki knelt in front of it, the wind biting at his cheeks.
"Hey, Dad," he said, voice catching. "I brought popcorn, just like you always liked. You remember, right? You'd sneak it from my movie nights."
He set the box down and unopened thermos beside the stone. He poured tea into a little cup he'd brought and held it up.
"To you," he murmured, eyes misting. "I miss you every day. I wish you were here to see that I got my first A in biology. Mom's sick again, they say she'll be better, but… it's hard. I'm trying."
He paused, closing his eyes against the cold.
"I'm tired, Dad. I'm really tired. But I'll keep going. I promise."
He knelt longer, as if listening for a answer in the wind. The sky was leaden, but he felt something soft stir inside—like a memory of warmth.
He stood, brushed snow off the grave marker, then turned and walked back toward the bus stop.
— — —
Monday morning brought its usual rush of classes and chatter. Naoki moved through the day on autopilot, but his friends noticed. Hana waved him a small smile in art class; Ren nudged him in the hallway with a "You okay, champ?" which Naoki answered with a half-hearted nod.
By afternoon, he felt drained. His legs were heavy, and when the last bell rang, he yanked on his jacket and headed for the rooftop door.
Ren and Hana were waiting, as always. This time, Ren held a small cardboard box wrapped in a burgundy ribbon.
Naoki's brow furrowed. "What's that?"
Ren handed it over. "Open it."
Naoki untied the ribbon and peeled back the lid. Inside, nestled on a soft blanket, was a tiny kitten—fur as white as fresh snow, eyes bright amber.
Naoki stared, breath catching.
Ren said quietly, "I saw you quiet lately. Thought you could use some company."
The kitten let out a soft mew and batted at Naoki's finger. Naoki knelt and lifted it gently.
"She's perfect," he whispered, voice thick.
Hana came closer. "Oh my god, Naoki, she's so cute."
The kitten nestled into Naoki's arms, purring softly.
Naoki looked at Ren, tears in his eyes. "Why… why would you do this?"
Ren shrugged, pretending to be casual. "Dunno. Maybe I figured you could use a little light right now."
Naoki hugged the kitten close, then turned and hugged Ren—tight, grateful.
"Thank you," he murmured.
Ren ruffled his hair. "Don't mention it."
Hana smiled, eyes shining. "She needs a name."
Naoki glanced down at the kitten. It lifted its head and meowed.
"Popcorn," Naoki decided with a soft laugh.
Ren and Hana both cheered.
They stood together on the rooftop, three friends sharing warmth in the heart of winter, a small white cat curled in Naoki's arms.
For the first time in a long time, Naoki felt a flicker of hope.
A small light to guide him through the dark.
—————