As evening faded into night, Mr. Hotaru—the gentle, widowed healer whose modest work as the village's small doctor brought in little money—returned home glowing with quiet joy. He stepped through the door straight into the warm embrace of his cheerful daughters and found Shiharu standing silently by the doorway, watching.
"It's good to see you're okay, boy. Please eat more—you're far too thin." He chuckled lightly and handed Shiharu a large, sturdy bag. "Here. I got you something."
With the easy affection of a proud father, he ruffled Shiharu's hair, then scooped up his youngest daughter and carried her inside. Reika lingered behind, her violet eyes resting softly on Shiharu.
"Dad helped a couple heal their only child today and was paid a generous sum for it," she said quietly.
"He must have bought those things for you. I'm telling you this because… I want you to know you're recognized here. You're accepted by this family. Please don't build walls around yourself anymore. You may not have had anyone before, but you can always talk to Dad whenever your emotions start to overwhelm you or something is eating away at you. Father is the best."
Reika offered him one last bright smile before slipping away, leaving Shiharu utterly speechless. He wondered, quietly and with a tightening chest, how this kind and warm family would react once they discovered he was gay. In the silence of his own self, he could only hope they would not turn against him.
Later, after dinner, he retreated to his room and finally opened the bag.
Inside were carefully chosen gifts: several sets of soft, comfortable yukata and simple everyday clothes in muted, soothing colors; a warm winter haori jacket; sturdy new sandals and indoor slippers; a small wooden comb and grooming set; a few notebooks and a brush for writing; and a modest but well-made pouch filled with personal necessities. Everything a boy who had just joined a new family might need.
Shiharu stared at the items, throat tightening. Trying to keep walls around a soft heart in a cruel world had never been easy. Reika and Hoshiyuki had seen through it instantly. The simple knowledge that he was accepted—that he was wanted—felt almost too much. Holding back tears felt like cruel hands strangling his neck.
"Mhm… You're free to cry. No one will hear you. I'll make sure your beautiful cries don't leave this room." A gentle, luminous voice filled the dim space.
"Cry out everything in your heart, Shiharu. You can curse them. Say every ugly thing you've buried. Let it all out. You'll feel better afterward. I promise."
Shiharu slowly lifted his head.
Hoshiyuki's ghostly figure hovered near the window, bathing the room in soft golden energy and pale white light that emanated from his form. His long golden-blonde hair was tied up in a slightly messy half-bun, a few strands framing his face. He smiled, running his fingers through the loose ends.
"I promised I'd come at night. I kept my promise, didn't I?"
Shiharu wanted nothing more than to throw himself into Hoshiyuki's arms, to cry until every wound inside him had emptied, to pour out every hurt and curse every person who had broken him. But he couldn't. Hoshiyuki was a ghost—his own ghost, his own shadow—and any embrace would only pass through empty air.
He kept his promise. He blessed my new family. He listens to whatever I want.
Why didn't I realize sooner that the people who truly cared weren't far away at all? I was just clinging to those who never wanted me. I was so foolish… But Hoshiyuki was right. I was never the problem. So why did I have to suffer simply for existing? Why did I deserve all that pain?
I hate them. I really do.
But what if don't deserve this happiness? What if they were right? What if… what if… what if…?
"Argh—"
Shiharu banged his head lightly against the wall, gripping the new sheets so tightly his knuckles whitened.
"I'm telling you to cry your heart out, not to develop cherophobia," Hoshiyuki muttered, glancing around the room before stealing another look at him. "You deserve happiness."
He paused, then added gently, "I don't know exactly what you're thinking, but I have a feeling… so you'd better not go down that road."
"Hoshi… I'm sorry…"
Hot, painful tears finally spilled down Shiharu's cheeks, soaking the sheets.
Hoshiyuki froze, then drifted closer, confused and concerned.
"Huh? Uh—sorry for what?"
"I'm sorry for everything," Shiharu cried, voice breaking. "I'm so sorry… Please forgive me."
He buried his face in his palms, shoulders shaking harder.
Hoshiyuki hovered helplessly, heart twisting at the sound. He remembered the garden earlier and how lost he had felt then.
"Haa… I told him to cry, and now I'm the one hurting just from hearing it," he thought. "This feeling is becoming far too familiar."