The first morning of the new year arrived softly.
The sun peeked into Tokyo's sky, golden and gentle, waving its light over rooftops and windows.
I blinked my eyes open, still wrapped in the warmth of sleep and dreams.
And in my heart — the echo of last night still shimmered.
The fireworks.
The light that called.
The bloom in the sky.
The feeling... like I understood something big, even if I couldn't say it all yet.
I slipped out of bed and tiptoed through the hallway.
The smell of breakfast floated in the air — warm rice, eggs, and miso.
Mama was in the kitchen, her hair tied back, humming quietly as she stirred the pot.
I looked around — and found Papa lying on the floor in the living room, still half-asleep under a blanket.
He looked so funny with his hair messy and one eye open, one eye closed.
"Papa... Papa..." I said, still rubbing my eyes.
He opened both eyes slowly.
"Mm? What is it, buddy?"
"Hideki... I know now. What Papa meant."
He turned to face me, curious. "What did you get, buddy?"
I stood beside him, proud and small.
"The way to tell the world how we feel in our heart," I said.
"Like a hanabi... First you attract them... make them wonder... and then..."
I lifted my hand gently, imagining the sky above.
"...you bloom. You make them feel something. Mesmerize them."
Papa's eyes went wide.
He sat up fast, his blanket falling off.
He reached over and ruffled my hair hard, laughing.
"Whoa, buddy! Where did you learn to talk like that, huh? You're gonna be a superstar?"
I stood tall — my heart full and honest.
"I don't wanna be a star," I said. "Stars shine together. Too many. They all shine."
"I wanna be a hanabi."
Papa blinked. "A hanabi?"
"Yeah," I nodded. "A single light. That flies up.
Makes you stop. Makes you wonder.
And then — it blooms. The brightest thing in the sky... even if just for a moment."
For a second, Papa didn't say anything.
He just looked at me.
Then — he pulled me into his arms.
Tight.
Like I was something very, very precious.
From the kitchen, Mama paused her ladle.
I turned to look — she was standing still, her eyes glassy, her lips smiling so softly.
"Hideki..." she said quietly.
Then she wiped her cheek and laughed to herself.
"Our little hanabi."
Papa stood up slowly, his blanket falling behind him like a forgotten cloak.
He stretched a little, then walked over to the piano in the corner of the room.
The sunlight touched the keys as he opened the lid — the same familiar white and black that had once cradled my fingers.
He sat down on the bench, back straight, eyes soft.
Then he looked at me.
"Then show me, buddy," he said.
"Tell us what your heart is feeling right now."
His fingers moved, slow and sure — pressing gently.
A soft sound filled the room, flowing like a river, calm and deep.
Not bouncy. Not loud.
Just... warm.
Like the feeling before the sun rises. Like a memory still blooming.
I closed my eyes.
And there, in the darkness behind my eyelids, I saw it.
The hanabi — bursting into light.
Yui's dress swirling as she ran.
The pink balloons.
The birthday hugs.
The cupcake she shared.
The way her voice whispered "Thank you..."
And how it stayed in my heart.
I felt something rising inside me.
So I opened my mouth.
And I sang.
Tick... tock... tick... tock...
The sound of time telling me what's to come.
Heart beating so fast, I can't keep up.
Now I wonder why I feel this way.
It is night whispering into my ear...
It tells me about a story—
Yui and me, standing under colorful skies.
It's Yui's balloon birthday... but I imagine stars.
Yui and Hideki... holding hands together.
Yui and Hideki... spending time together.
Yui and Hideki... hugging one another.
It's Yui and me...
It's just Yui and me.
Mama had stopped stirring the pot.
I didn't notice at first...
But when I opened my eyes, I saw her in the kitchen — her phone in her hands, recording me.
Her eyes were full — wide, bright, soft.
And her smile was the kind that made me feel like I had done something real.
Papa kept playing — even gentler now.
And when the song ended, the last note lingered... like the glow of a firework just before it fades.
No one said anything right away.
Then Papa turned and whispered:
"You just became a hanabi, Hideki."
And Mama nodded.
"You bloomed," she said.
I turned to Mama, my chest still rising and falling from the song I'd just sung.
My voice was small, but it carried something big.
"How is it, Mama? Did my feeling reach you too?"
She didn't answer right away.
Her hand rose gently to her mouth, covering it softly — her eyes were shining.
Then she nodded.
"It did, Hideki," she said, her voice a whisper through a smile.
"Mama felt it too."
I couldn't help it.
I ran straight into her arms.
"Yeaah! Thank you, Mama!"
She hugged me tight, one hand stroking the back of my head, the other gently resting between my shoulders.
We didn't talk after that.
We didn't need to.
The silence was already full of everything we wanted to say.
After a little while, I turned to Papa, who was still sitting at the piano.
"Papa... Papa... show it to Hideki. How you play it like before."
He grinned wide and opened his arms.
He scooped me up and sat me on his lap.
Then his fingers pressed the keys — the same gentle harmony from earlier, like a lullaby made of morning light.
He took my small hands and placed them on top of his.
We began to play — together.
Slowly, softly.
And I began to sing again.
But this time, I sang slowly...
Matching my voice to each note, feeling where the music moved...
Letting my fingers dance along the keys with Papa's.
Papa laughed quietly while guiding me, his chest moving with each chuckle.
"That is a wonderful song, Hideki," he said.
"Papa's proud of you."
I didn't know why...
But suddenly, my nose felt tight.
My eyes grew warm.
And I sniffled.
"Mmm... Papa..." I whispered. "Papa is Hideki's hero."
Papa's eyes softened even more — the kind of look only he had.
He laughed again, then wrapped one arm around me, still playing with the other.
And we kept going.
Me and Papa.
Side by side.
Our fingers dancing together.
Until—
"Breakfast is ready!" Mama called from the kitchen, her voice full of joy and sunlight.
And so, we closed our day...
With warm bowls of rice that steamed like little clouds,
With laughter that lingered between each bite,
And with a song that still floated in the air —
Soft as a whisper,
Strong as a promise,
Piercing the moment like morning light through the window.
That day became a part of us.
Like a photo not just taken —
But felt.
And the melody we made together?
It would echo, quietly...
In every tomorrow.