"Kahoko, can you help me with the dishes?"

Kahoko looked over her shoulder from where she was tucking Yuji into bed. Since it had gotten late, they were staying the night. "Sure, Mom," she murmured softly. With a final kiss on his forehead, she silently closed the door and followed her mother down the stairs.

For a while, they did the dishes in silence, Ryouko washing and Kahoko drying and putting away. But Kahoko wasn't fooled, she knew her mother wanted to talk about Hihara-senpai.

"So…."

And so it began.

"I noticed someone gave you a ride here."

"Umm…yes." She tried to keep her tone light. "You remember Hihara-senpai from back in high school and college? Yuji and I ran into him at the park. We had a nice time playing together."

"Is this the same boy you were such good friends with that turned around and ignored you for the last five years?"

"Well, she certainly didn't mince words," Kahoko thought with a cringe. Now that he wasn't here, she could feel doubt beginning to creep in. "It…is…."

Ryouko looked at her daughter in concern. "Are you sure it's wise to let him back into your life, not to mention Yuji's life, so easily? Yuji seemed to really like him. He's already lost his father. What if he grows to look to Hihara-san as a father-figure and he drops off the radar again?"

"He won't disappear again," she stated firmly as she stacked a plate in the cupboard. Now if only she felt as confident as she sounded.

"And how can you be so sure?"

"Does it really matter?" she evaded. This was totally unfair. How was she supposed to convince herself she was doing the right thing if all she could think about were the potential pitfalls?

"Honey…."

She blew out a breath that teased her bangs. Maybe if she explained the situation, she'd understand. "When we first ran into each other, we got into a huge fight, and I found out he hadn't read any of my letters since he sent me that weird one five years ago."

"And your point is…?"

"My point is that he didn't know I was going through all that stuff," she defended as she placed a bowl a tad more firmly than was necessary in its spot. "Once he found out, he was so horrified and sincerely apologetic that…well…" she trailed off at her mother's skeptical look. "I guess you had to be there," she mumbled. "Regardless, I don't think he'll do something like that again."

"I see," Ryouko said evenly. She handed her a cup. "Did he give a reason for why he never read those letters?"

Kahoko shifted uncomfortably as she wiped off the outside. "Not really."

She turned her attention back to the sink. "Interesting."

Kahoko sighed. She could see she still didn't approve. "All he said was that he was sorry and that he had no excuses for his behavior."

"And that was good enough for you?"

"He prostrated himself on the ground! He wouldn't get up even when I begged him to," she exclaimed in a sudden burst of passion. The intense look in her eyes fiercely defended her case as she implored, "If you had seen his face or even just heard his voice at that moment…." The sentence died as Ryouko dropped her gaze, her face still unyielding. As the silence stretched on, Kahoko exhaled and pensively ran her towel around the rim of another cup. "I know he must have reasons of some sort or another that made him do what he did, and maybe I should have been more adamant about finding out what they were," she murmured quietly with a sigh. "But when all's said and done, he regrets making that decision. I truly believe that." She placed the cup down and looked Ryouko beseechingly in the eye. "Hihara-senpai is one of the sweetest, most genuine people I have ever known. You always liked him for that, Mom."

"Yes…" Ryouko grudgingly admitted. "Yes, I did."

"He wouldn't lie, not about this."

"No, he wouldn't," she reluctantly agreed.

Kahoko gave her a sad smile. "Don't you think he deserves a second chance?"

She pulled her daughter close and lightly kissed her forehead in answer. Her Kahoko was such a kind, forgiving person, and Ryouko was proud of that. But she didn't want to see her daughter hurt again. All a parent really wants is the best for their children. Even while understanding there are some things that need to be experienced, they want to protect them from pain and suffering as much as possible.

Kahoko had already experienced so much tragedy and despite that, had found the strength to weather it. And now, here was a blast from her past, someone who had hurt her very deeply and had deserted her when she needed her friends the most. And she wanted to open her heart to him again, risk being rejected and abandoned again.

Ryouko frowned. She wasn't certain if this attempt to reconcile with Hihara-san a good thing or not, but since she had chosen to try, all she could do was trust her daughter and pray that things would turn out well for her and Yuji. And if they didn't, well, then she would be there to help pick up the pieces.

They finished the dishes while talking of normal things, both tacitly understanding that further discussion on the previous topic was over. Until Kahoko was ready to leave the kitchen at least.

"Kahoko?"

"Hmm?" She turned to see her mother watching her with a thoughtful expression.

"The next time Hihara-san drives you two over here, ask if he'd like to come in. We haven't seen him in a long time."

Her smile shone. She was glad to have her mother on her side again. "I will."

As Kahoko lay on the floor next to her old bed, she thought about the day. It was amazing how much things had changed in a matter of minutes. Well, maybe now that she was away from outside influences, she could look at things with a clearer perspective.

Yes, she had let him back into her life. But she wasn't going to be stupid about it. Like Hihara-senpai had said, it wouldn't be the same as before. She believed his apology was sincere, but she didn't trust him, at least not completely. For old time's sake, she felt she owed him the chance to make amends, but people change in five years. Who knew if they even could be friends again?

She sighed. Strangely, the one thing her mother was so worried about was kind of what she hoped would happen. She absolutely believed that having Hihara-senpai around would be good for Yuji. The two of them had genuinely liked each other. Hihara-senpai hadn't played with him as a ploy to get back into her good graces; he just enjoyed it. And he had many of the traits she wanted Yuji to possess someday such as kindness, generosity, and an optimistic approach to life. Of course, he had plenty of flaws to go along with his good points, but no one was perfect.

A glowing smile adorned her face as she thought of that afternoon. It had been really nice for Yuji to have an older guy who wasn't a relative take sincere interest in him. He had thrived on the attention. Since Takeshi-san had died when Yuji was so young, he'd never really had anything like that. Even if she and Hihara-senpai would never think of each other as anything more than friends—and thus he would never be more than a father figure to Yuji—she believed that this sort of relationship was something she should encourage.

Her mouth settled into a firm line. Yuji's needs were more important than her petty fears and insecurities. So for him, she'd let Hihara-senpai in, at least a little. Exactly where things went with their friendship would remain to be seen.

That resolved, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to heed the call of dreamland. As she succumbed to blissful unconsciousness, she idly wondered what Hihara-senpai was doing.

As it so happened, he was reading her letters. He was almost done with them, and with each passing letter, he felt worse and worse about not responding all those years ago. Currently he felt like he was at about the level of the lowest scum on Earth. Next he'd probably feel like the lowest scum in the inner planets, followed by the solar system, the Milky Way, the galaxy group the Milky Way was in, the group plus intergalactic space, and the universe. After that, he'd have to start trying to figure out what could be lower than the lowest scum of the universe. He quickly counted the remaining letters. Oh goody, he had just enough to stay within the universe. He frowned sadly at the final letter. Although, it was entirely possible that this last letter would make him feel so horrible, he'd completely surpass lowest scum of the universe.

"Ugh…." He banged his head against his kotatsu. Why couldn't he have just sucked it up and written back to her all those years ago? It's not like he hadn't wanted to when he saw that the letters kept coming despite him not responding.

By the time he finished the last letter, he was crying. It was official. He was not the lowest scum in the universe. He was the bacteria that created the pus that infects the mucus that cakes the fungus that feeds on the lowest scum of the universe. How could he have ever thought it would be a good idea to shut her out like that?

He looked at a letter near the very beginning. They had wanted him to be Yuji-kun's godfather—the man who had wanted nothing to do with the child in question for five years until destiny came and smacked him upside the head while shooting him straight between the eyes. And Takeshi-san—he glanced at her last letter. Oh God…that must have been so frightening. I mean, one day he just had a cold, and in a matter days, bam, he was dead. It had been so sudden, and she had had no one out there. He couldn't even imagine how horrible it must have been for her.

His heart wrenched as he pictured her shattered and lost as the world fell to pieces. She could always find work as a concert violinist, either as a soloist or a member of an orchestra, but they just weren't single-mom-with-a-toddler-friendly hours. So she had come home. Two years ago, she had come home to Japan.

He was a slug. Even then, there was the tiniest shred of hope that he'd come to the memorial service they were holding here, that even despite his strange absence in recent years, he would be the friend she needed. He banged his head into the table over and over again. He could not have planned a better way to so spectacularly fail her.

He stared at the messy pile before him numbly. So now what? He had to make amends; that much was obvious, but how?

He fisted his hands in his hair. "I have one shot. Just one. If I screw this up, it's over." He felt panicked. "I can't lose her. Not again. Not again. She's…she's…the light, or something, I guess." He frowned and mussed up his hair. "No, light is the right word. Though I didn't realize it, before her, my world was dim and dark. I just hadn't known any different. Then she just happened into it, and…and everything changed. My life opened up and flooded with color." He thought back to all the happy times, and then to the ones after he had turned his back on her. Life had lost its color; the sun had become cold; and the dark was so much darker than he had remembered, possibly even more so because he had chosen to shut out the light.

He frantically fought the wave of despair and unhappiness that threatened to smother him. Trembling a little bit, he swore, "I can't go back. I can't. I won't! "

He closed his eyes and rested his head on his folded hands. Just like before, she had landed unexpectedly and miraculously in his life, and just like before, everything had become warm and clear. But now that she was back, how did he make her stay? He couldn't afford to lose her again. He had to give her a reason to trust him again, had to show her somehow.

He blew out a breath that teased his bangs. "So again, what in the world am I supposed to do? How can I make her see I'm sorry? How can I show her it's okay to trust me? That I'm reliable? That I truly treasure her? That I'm determined not to screw things up this time? That I'd do anything for her? That-" his brain screeched to a halt before it completely derailed itself.

"Stop," he ordered himself. "Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop." This was taking a sharp turn into insanity.

He blew out a breath. He was coming at this all wrong. "This is about restoring a friendship, not about a second chance at trying to show her how much I love her and always have." He sighed. "Friends, focus on being friends. Although," he thought a bit sardonically, "do I even know how to be just friends with her anymore? For the majority of our friendship, I've been half or all the way in love with her."

He covered his face. "And why her? Why does she have to be the one? Trying to be friends again would be so much easier if I weren't in love with her. It'll be all I can do to stop myself from trying to make her mine before she's snatched up again." His eyes darkened. "Figures the only girl I've ever wanted is the one that I've completely blown my chances with," he thought bitterly. He shook his head vigorously to dispel the resentment. "Suck it up," he scolded sternly. "You have a chance to rebuild something. That's more than you deserve." He remembered the shock and hurt in her eyes and closed his in pain. "Way more."

He bit his lip. Maybe he had been in love with her basically their whole friendship, but both of them had treasured the connection they had shared back then, even if it was love-hazed on his end of things. It wasn't necessarily a terrible thing that love colored their relationship, even if he knew that he had absolutely no chance with her anymore. It had worked for eight years; there was no reason it couldn't work again. It wouldn't be easy, and it would take time to regain lost ground—lots and lots of time probably—but he'd endure it. He had to.

Resolution settled on his shoulders as he stared solemnly at the heap of letters before him. If it felt a bit hollow, well that was just too bad; his decision was made. He closed his eyes in resignation.

He'd do what he'd done best for over a third of his life. And wait. He'd love her, knowing she would never be his; be with her, understanding that he didn't deserve even this much; stand by her side, recognizing that it could only be as her friend, never anything more; make sure she would never be alone and helpless again, being the friend he should have been. And wait.

For the day he'd be fully forgiven. For the day she'd trust him again. For the day he'd be satisfied with what he had and not long for more. After all, he had the light back.

He sighed and rested his head on the hard surface of the kotatsu. It was going to be a long wait.

This chapter was a little filler-ish, I suppose, but since the previous chapter had ended so happily, I felt like things needed to be knocked down a peg. After all, all is not well in paradise. Poor Kazuki; life is looking a little bleak.

Tentsubasa's Japanese Corner:

A kotatsu is a table with a heating lamp connected to the bottom. It's fairly low to the ground, so when you sit at it, you're sitting on the floor, or maybe a floor cushion. You cover the base of the kotatsu with a blanket and put a table surface on top of the blanket so that when you stick your legs under the kotatsu, your legs and feet will stay warm. Since the heating lamp is turned on via a switch of some sort, with the lamp off, it can also be used as just a normal table, making it pretty economical and versatile.