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“Arghh!”
“Just a little more!”
“You can do it!”
“Argh…”
Tears streamed down her face. The fear of the unknown crushed her chest, making it hard to breathe. She shrank back into the child she used to be — the one who cried whenever she faced something new and terrifying.
Her eyebrows tightened. Every muscle in her body burned. She screamed as waves of pain shot through her, the midwives surrounding her, helping as much as they could.
Her vision blurred.
All she could see were lights and shadows moving in front of her. Encouraging words reached her — but none were the one she wanted to hear. None had the voice she waited for.
Her breathing sped up, shallow and shaky. The room felt like it was melting into blackness. Her mind throbbed with panic.
Grip.
A hand — large, warm, steady — wrapped around hers.
She couldn’t see the person clearly, but she didn’t have to.
She knew who it was.
She knew that warmth.
“Naoko! You can do it!”
His voice cut straight through her fear.
He held her trembling hand with both of his, grounding her, anchoring her. The loneliness, the terror of being alone, vanished in an instant.
Naoko squeezed back with everything she had, pouring her fear and trembling into that grip. Her breath grew ragged, desperate.
A violent contraction seized her. Her body curled forward from the pain, white-hot and overwhelming. She bit her lip, clutching his hands even tighter.
The room grew tense.
The midwives pressed in closer, whispering prayers under their breath, praying for a safe delivery as Naoko pushed through one more surge of agony.
“You can do it!”
“You can do it!”
“You can do it!”
Encouragement filled the room — not yelled, but firm and steady. Every obstetrician and midwife was sweating, their hands shaking slightly. The uncertainty of the situation weighed on all of them.
“I see the head!” one midwife called.
“Just a little more! You can do it!” the others joined.
“Agh…!”
Naoko cried out. The pain was unbearable. She wanted to be strong. She needed to be strong.
But every time the thought surfaced, it drowned under the crushing waves of agony.
Still, she pushed.
With every last bit of strength left in her body, she gave one final push.
Light burst through the pain — a sudden wash of relief. Her nerves loosened. Her muscles trembled. The burning ache faded, but her headache still pounded violently, and her insides felt crushed and hollow.
She gulped for air, her chest rising and falling as she tried to steady her breath. Her vision spun; her body felt light and heavy at the same time.
Then—
A loud, fragile cry echoed through the white room — the walls, the bedsheets, even the doctor's coats seemed to brighten at the sound.
“It’s a boy!” the doctor announced.
The husband froze.
He wanted to run to his son.
He wanted to hold his wife.
He wanted to do everything at once.
But seeing the confident smiles of the staff — their careful hands, their steady work — reassured him. His son was safe.
So he rushed to Naoko and held her trembling hand.
“Naoko… you did amazing.”
His voice cracked, a smile breaking through tears.
Naoko wiped the blur of tears from her lashes and looked up at him.
“Dear… thank you,” she whispered before leaning in to kiss his cheek.
Both of them blushed.
The whole room melted at the sight.
“An angel has descended… a very cute one,” one midwife laughed softly as they continued their checks.
The baby kept crying — strong, loud, healthy.
Doctors gently examined him, checking for any signs of trouble. The husband rubbed Naoko’s hand, grounding her, comforting her. She was too weak to move even a finger.
Midwives soaked a warm cloth and gently wiped Naoko’s face, then the baby’s.
Her hair was messy, sticking to her forehead. Her body felt empty and drained.
“Here— it would be a crime for us to keep this cuteness all to ourselves,” a midwife joked, carrying the newborn carefully.
She lowered the tiny, warm boy into Naoko’s arms.
Naoko felt a rush of extreme. Euphoria washed over Naoko as she gazed at the tiny palms resting against her chest—the soft, wrinkled fingers, the small mouth opening ever so faintly, the fair, delicate complexion. His eyes, still unable to see the world, blinked slowly. And somehow, even now, he already resembled both her and her husband.
Her smile trembled. Exhaustion pulled at every muscle, but she cried anyway—quiet, relieved tears that glimmered down her cheeks. All the fear she carried, all the anxiety that had threatened to crush her moments ago… it melted away the second she held him. His little heartbeat against her skin was proof enough.
She silently made a vow—not for this moment alone, but for every day to come.
She would make him strong. She would let him rely on her. Because he was her “sweet little baby.”
Her husband broke down completely. Seeing Naoko holding their son, seeing the overwhelming love pouring out of her… it shattered him in the most beautiful way. His throat tightened. He sobbed openly—not out of fear this time, but from a warmth so deep it almost hurt.
For a fleeting moment, he remembered: his own mother must have once held him the same way.
“Alright, that’s enough. Let the mother rest,” one of the midwives said gently. “This is a vulnerable time for both mother and child. He needs her warmth close.”
They all understood and quietly stepped out of the room.
Naoko pulled her son tighter against her chest. She nudged his tiny cheek with her nose, brushing her breath over his soft skin. A weak yet radiant smile spread across her face, her eyelids heavy, her body drained. She wrapped him snugly with trembling care, ensuring not even a sliver of cold would reach him.
Within moments, Naoko finally drifted into sleep—mother and child breathing in perfect rhythm.
Days passed.
Sunrise and sunset painted the slow, gentle recovery inside their home. Each day, mother and child grew stronger under careful nursing and tender dedication. The sleeping angel rested quietly in his small bed, undisturbed, content, and warm.
Naoko hummed softly beside him, brushing a hand across his cheek. His little features looked so peaceful, so safe.
“Everyone is waiting for you…” she whispered, leaning close as her melody filled the quiet room.
Knock
Knock
The husband opened the door, still groggy from lack of sleep. With Naoko resting in the hospital, he had been running back and forth nonstop. His body felt heavy.
“Ah, Kenichi-san!”
A neighbour stood at the door with a warm smile. “Are you doing alright? I thought I’d check in. Being first-time parents takes a lot out of you.”
Kenichi gave a tired smile and pushed his glasses up with his index finger.
“Thank you for checking on us. We really appreciate it.”
But the woman’s smile faded a little.
“You don’t look well… Is something bothering you?”
Kenichi hesitated. He didn’t want to trouble anyone with his worries. If he struggled this much now, how would he handle things in the future?
Then—just for a moment—he saw something.
A figure of a boy. His son.
But the face… completely blank, as if someone erased it.
Kenichi froze.
He blinked hard, rubbed his eyes, and the image disappeared.
Just fatigue.
“Natsuki-san?” the woman asked again, concerned.
“Yes, yes. I probably just need more sleep,” he said with a laugh. “Can’t be sluggish when I want my boy to grow up strong and athletic, right?”
The neighbour giggled softly.
“You’ll be a wonderful father. Don’t worry too much.”
She bowed and walked away.
Kenichi closed the door and stepped back inside. The house was a mess—clothes scattered, dishes unwashed, everything out of place. He sighed.
And then he remembered the words Naoko had told him before he left the hospital…
“Dear, you better not resort to takeouts while I’m gone,” Naoko warned with a smile—though her aura was so threatening that Kenichi felt sweat gather at the back of his neck.
“Y-Yeah… haha, don’t worry,” he said, trying to laugh away the pressure.
Naoko pouted slightly. “I’m serious. I want him to look at you and think, ‘My dad is amazing.’ I want him to be proud of you.”
Kenichi lowered his gaze.
She didn’t mean to hurt him, but the words dug deep.
He already felt like he was failing… and yet, seeing the hope in her eyes made his chest tighten.
“Honey…” Naoko reached out and took his hand gently. Her touch was soft, warm, and reassuring.
“It’s alright. We’ll support him together,” she said, giving him a proud, confident smile—the kind that lifted every bit of doubt off his shoulders.
Kenichi remembered the day everything changed—the day he first heard he was going to be a father.
Naoko had been sitting at the edge of their table, holding up the test with trembling fingers.
He had never seen her cry before. She was always the strong one… the dependable one.
Seeing tears on her face felt unreal, like the world had shifted.
His mind spun.
“What do I say?”
“She’s carrying a human… an actual human.”
“No—our child.”
His thoughts tangled together until he couldn’t think straight.
“Honey…” Naoko whispered, her voice small—smaller than he had ever heard it.
“Do you… regret it?” she asked.
The question hit him like a punch.
She waited for his answer, her eyes shaking. Kenichi swallowed hard, trying to steady his nerves.
He stepped toward her slowly, silently. His face was unreadable.
Naoko shrank a little, thinking the worst.
But then—
He suddenly wrapped his arms around her.
“H-Honey?” she gasped, feeling his hands tremble. She knew him too well… he hadn’t changed at all.
“I would never regret it,” he said, voice breaking. “Thank you… Thank you for giving me such a blessing.”
And then he cried—right there in her arms.
“Come on… you’re supposed to be the one consoling me,” Naoko sighed softly, tightening her hold around him as if shielding his shaking heart.
Kenichi snapped back to reality, the memory washing over him as fresh as the day it happened.
He knew what he needed to do.
He let out a long sigh.
“Alright!”
Clenching his fist, he made up his mind. He had to pull himself together.
He marched toward the living room and knelt beside the shelf filled with old CDs. His tired fingers slid through each case until he found it—the one song that had started everything.
The first song they ever danced to.
The song that brought two awkward, nervous people close enough to fall in love.
He held the case for a moment, smiling softly as memories washed over him—Naoko’s shy laugh, her hands on his shoulders, the way they spun clumsily but never let go.
Gently, almost reverently, he slid the CD into the player.
A soft crackle.
Then the familiar tune began to play, warm and nostalgic, filling the messy living room with the sound of their story.
It felt like the house finally breathed again.
(Note: Play “Future is yours” by Sambomaster)
“I love you, wipe away your tears and create a miracle,
bathed in radiance.
Whenever we share with each other, we become stronger.
You´re not alone anymore.”
The world around him shifted like a dream.
The messy living room faded away, replaced by the warm glow of a small bar—the one they used to visit when they were young and broke but stupidly in love. The lights above flickered softly, the wooden floor shining as if freshly polished.
And there she was.
A younger Naoko stood in front of him, smiling the same smile that once knocked the breath out of his chest. Her hand reached out—not quite real, not quite memory, but something in between.
Kenichi froze.
Part of him knew this was just exhaustion playing tricks on him.
But the other part—the one that loved her endlessly—moved on its own.
He reached out, gently taking her hand.
Naoko tugged him forward, right into the centre of the dance floor that existed only in his mind. The music swelled, warm and familiar. She placed his hand around her waist, just like she used to, and he remembered that old nervous flutter in his chest.
They swayed.
They spun.
Their steps were clumsy, but perfect.
Kenichi laughed—really laughed—for the first time in days.
The world around him burst back into colour: the bar lights glowing gold, the air warm, the music weaving through every corner.
For a moment, everything felt alive again.
For a moment, he wasn’t tired.
For a moment, he was simply a man dancing with the woman he loved.
“Your days to come,
did someone tell you they would crumble away?
Were you holding your knees sadly?
All of the days so far
are yours only; the days to come are yours, too.
I'll be there by your side to see them through.”
Lost in the melody, Kenichi mouthed the words—soft, shaky, but full of feeling. In his mind, Naoko’s voice blended with his, warm and teasing, just like she used to sing beside him when she wanted to show off. For a moment, they were perfectly in sync.
Then—
Thunk.
His elbow clipped the CD player.
It toppled off the table, the plug popping out with a sad little spark.
The music cut.
The vision scattered like sand blown by the wind.
Kenichi blinked rapidly, reality pouring back in: the dim living room, the half-folded laundry, the empty bottles of energy drinks… no glowing bar, no young Naoko pulling him around with that fearless grin.
“…Ah.”
He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed even though no one was watching.
Sweat trickled down his temple, loosening something. His headband slid forward, almost falling off his forehead. He caught it with one hand.
“Natsuki!”
The bold letters stared back at him—determination spelt out in ink. A silly thing, a cheap thing, but it meant more to him now than ever. Something clicked inside him.
He let out a breathy laugh.
“How could I be so naive… haha.”
Not a defeated laugh—an amused, energised one.
Because even if the vision faded, the feeling it gave him didn’t.
Kenichi stood tall, tightening the headband until it fit perfectly, snug and secure—just like his resolve.
He took a breath.
And then, with a smile tugging at his lips—
not forced, not tired, but real—
He began to sing again.
“Times you wanted to run away,
times you wanted to cry,
that night when you counted your untold loneliness.
A lights will shine within them,
I came to light them up.
Doesn't matter if it's about trivial things,
doesn't matter if it's something modest,
We can definitely do it, definitely.”
Kenichi cleaned every corner of the house with movements so exaggerated they looked like part dance, part martial-arts warm-up. He sang the lyrics boldly—even the high notes he could barely reach—letting the rhythm drive his body rather than the worries crowding his mind.
He refused to let negativity seep in.
He refused to let self-loathing twist into doubt.
He separated his fears from his responsibilities and made a promise, stamped deep into his heart:
He would become strong.
For his son.
And with both mother and father working tirelessly in their own roles—Naoko recovering, nurturing, and preparing, and Kenichi supporting, cleaning, running errands, cooking, learning, failing, and trying again—not a single moment of regret found space to settle. When either of them felt anxious or overwhelmed, their son’s tiny face would appear in their thoughts… and the weight in their chests would lift.
They would do anything for him.
Everything for him.
And just like that, a week passed.
It was time to announce their son’s name.
Kenichi jolted awake far too late. He nearly fell out of bed before sprinting to the bathroom, splashing water on his face, and throwing on his brown suit and tie. He didn’t even bother checking if the colours matched—he just ran.
His athletic physique helped; his stamina carried him through the streets as he dashed toward the station. His glasses kept slipping from the sweat pouring down his forehead, but he pushed them up again and again, refusing to slow down.
Neighbours peered out their windows or paused from watering their plants. The moment they recognised him, they began cheering.
“You can do it, Natsuki-san!”
“Run, Kenichi-kun!”
“Hurry! Your boy is waiting!”
From the day the Natsuki couple moved into the neighbourhood, they had helped everyone—carrying groceries, fixing pipes, lending tools, offering warm smiles. And Kenichi, with his charismatic and goofy charm, had made friends with nearly all of them.
Kenichi skidded slightly, turning his head just long enough to shout with a wide, boyish grin:
“THANK YOU, EVERYONE!”
Then he sprinted forward again.
As the station came into view, he pushed himself harder, leaping into the train just as the doors were closing. He landed with a dramatic slide, threw his fist into the air, and exhaled loudly.
“Safe…!” he declared like he had just slid into home base.
“Stop running inside trains! It’s dangerous!” the ticket conductor barked.
Kenichi bowed deeply, hands by his sides.
“I’M SORRY! It’s just—my son is waiting for me! I have to be fast!”
The conductor blinked, then softened.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
“Good luck,” he said, patting Kenichi’s shoulder as he passed by.
The train began to move.
The cityscape rolled gently by.
And through the speakers…
The radio began to play their song.
“I love you, wipe away your tears and create a miracle,
bathed in radiance.
Whenever we share with each other, we become stronger.
You´re not alone anymore.”
He jumped out of the train in a panic. The ticket conductor only sighed, facepalming, but then smiled to himself.
“That guy really is an amazing father,” he whispered.
Kenichi ran through roads and alleys, pushing himself without rest. After hours of sprinting, he finally burst into the hospital room, completely soaked in sweat.
Naoko and her parents stared at him in shock—then burst into laughter.
“Naoko was just talking about you,” her father said as he walked up to Kenichi.
“Kenichi!”
He placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Take good care of my grandson.”
Kenichi felt his eyes sting, tears threatening to fall, but he forced himself to stand tall. With a loud voice and a huge smile, he yelled:
“Alright, it’s time!”
Everyone smiled at his energy.
“Welcome to the family, my son—Natsuki Subaru!”
The name echoed through the room.
Naoko giggled softly.
“Subaru… such a sweet name.”
Kenichi leaned close, speaking with pride.
“Our Subaru will be loved by everyone. He’ll make lots of friends… he’ll grow stronger than me, and kinder than you.”
Naoko blushed as they both accidentally said the same words at the same time. Her parents laughed at their cute moment.
“Would you like to hold your son?” Naoko asked.
Kenichi froze. He was scared—terrified of dropping him. But when he saw Naoko’s tired face and her hopeful eyes, something in him melted.
He slowly took Subaru into his arms.
The moment he felt the small, warm weight of his son, his whole body broke.
Tears streamed down his face as he held Subaru to his chest. The baby cried and waved his tiny fists and feet, gently tapping against him.
Kenichi cried harder, but he smiled through every tear—like he had just been blessed by the universe.
Naoko watched them, laughing softly even through her exhaustion. She leaned back on the pillow, staring at the scene like it was a painting—her husband holding their son, sunlight spilling into the room and lighting up everything except the three of them.
“Thank you, Subaru…” she whispered before closing her eyes.
Cheers and joy filled the room.
Naoko held Subaru close, the tiny baby sleeping peacefully in her arms.
“Grow up strong and healthy, Subaru… There are so many people who love you,” she whispered with a warm smile.
To her surprise, Subaru’s lips curled into a tiny, sleepy smile. No laughter—just that soft little grin.
Naoko’s eyes widened, then melted. She hugged him tighter.
“Awwww, my Subaru is the cutest!” she squealed.
The room burst into happy chatter and gentle laughter again.
That day went on like a dream—warm, bright, full of love.
The Natsuki family had been visited by an angel.
A little boy who would change their lives forever.
A little boy who would make their bond stronger than ever.
Natsuki Subaru.
Meanwhile, watching through a mirror—
seated beneath a parasol that cast a soft shade over the tea table—
Two women sat facing one another.
One wore an elegant black dress that clung gracefully to her curves.
Her hair was pure white, her eyes black like the void itself, her expression cunning.
A small ornament shaped like a black butterfly rested near her collarbone, a symbol as unsettling as its wearer.
She lifted her steaming cup with delicate fingers, then shifted her gaze to the woman opposite her.
Emilia.
Her silver hair hung messily.
Parts of her dress were stained with dirt and dried blood, sleeves torn from a struggle.
Over it all, she wore a worn-out tracksuit jacket—orange and black—
with a single, familiar initial embroidered on the chest:
“N.”
Her amethyst eyes trembled, hazy with tears.
Her lips quivered as she stared into the mirror before her.
The woman in black broke the silence.
“Is this what you truly wanted?” she asked calmly.
“Emilia.”
“…” Emilia slowly lifted her head, confused and hurt.
“Do not misunderstand,” the Witch said, her smile thin.
“I do not feel a shred of empathy for you.”
“But I didn’t—” Emilia began.
“Your face is more readable than you think.
And that expression is precisely why you disgust me.”
Echidna took another sip, unbothered.
Emilia breathed shakily.
Still, she spoke with a soft, pained honesty.
“Yes… This is how it should have been.”
“Thank you… Echidna.”
The Witch’s smile sharpened.
“Please don’t say my name with that expression on your face.”
But Emilia only smiled faintly.
Her reflection in the mirror wore a scared expression, tears trailing down its surface like cracks in glass.
She whispered to herself:
“Isn’t it unfair…?
You always told me to move forward.
But I can’t.”
Her voice shook.
“Knowing everything you suffered… every wound you reopened…
all the times you bled for me…
How can I just move on, leaving you behind?”
Her fingers brushed the “N” on the jacket.
She closed her eyes.
“Live your life without anyone holding you back… Subaru.”
“This life is my way of thanking you for everything you gave me.”
A single tear fell.
“The future is yours, Subaru.”
