Home is wherever I'm with you.
"Home" ~ Edward Sharpe The Magnetic Zeros
The taxi rolled to a stop in front of a modest white house with blue shutters that framed the windows like a picture postcard. The slightly weathered porch and its pots of flowers arranged with care looked just as she remembered. A pair of cardinals fluttered in the old oak tree, pecking at the seeds in a bright red feeder that swayed gently in the breeze. The scene had a kind of timeless charm, like someone hit pause on a warm memory and left it waiting just for her.
Even the garden gnome standing guard by the front door made her smile. Her grandma swore it "warded off bad vibes," and no one in the family dared challenge the claim—not after the time Uncle Gary scoffed, tripped on the porch step, and spilled iced tea all over himself.
Before she could fully take in the sight, the door swung open with an energy that suggested it had been waiting for her just as long as the rest of the house had. Out bustled her grandma, all bright eyes and open arms.
"Hikari!" she called, her voice filled with enough joy to make it seem like decades had passed instead of just a few years.
"Grandma!" Hikari laughed, barely setting down her guitar case before being swept into a hug that felt like coming home. Grandma smelled exactly the same—lilac and vanilla, soft and sweet, like hugs themselves had a signature scent.
Behind her, the screen door creaked loudly on its hinges. Grandpa stepped out onto the porch in his well-worn baseball cap, the same one he always had on. Hikari swore he only took it off to shower.
"Our little Tokyo rock star," he teased, his voice warm and familiar as he clapped her gently on the shoulder. His eyes drifted down to the guitar case. "Brought it just for us?"
"Just for you, Grandpa," Hikari replied with a grin, even though the guitar rarely left her side.
The house seemed to exhale as she stepped inside, welcoming her back with its unmistakable blend of cinnamon and something faintly earthy, like old wood and coffee grounds. The grandfather clock in the hallway ticked steadily, its rhythm as familiar as her own heartbeat. Every inch of the space carried the layered warmth of her grandparents' lives—lived-in, loved, and slightly mismatched in a way that made perfect sense.
The walls were lined with family photos, a gallery of smiles, holidays, and moments frozen in time. There was a picture of her mom as a kid, holding a trophy taller than she was. Next to it, Hikari as a toddler, standing triumphantly on her grandpa's workbench, paintbrush in hand, ready to help in the adorably unhelpful way that toddlers do.
The big, overstuffed couch looked just as she remembered, flanked by antique side tables dressed with lace doilies. A little dish of cinnamon candies—the kind she and her cousins love—sat on the coffee table. The kitchen doorway still bore the cheerful, hand-painted sign that read, "Welcome, Y'all!" in bright script.
Grandma glanced back over her shoulder, smiling warmly. "We're so glad you're here, Hikari. It's been too long."
Hikari's chest tightened with a swell of nostalgia. The house was more than just a place. It was her grandparents' essence—the lilac perfume, the baseball cap, the gnome on the porch—all wrapped into walls that held her mom's memories and her own.
It was a world that felt like hers, too, even if it was half a world away.
The house thrummed with the sounds of family as Hikari stepped into the crowded dining room, her senses practically humming with the noise and energy of her aunts, uncles, and cousins filling every corner. The long dining table was set for at least a dozen with mismatched plates and silverware. A basket piled with bread rolls and a large bowl of salad were surrounded by bottles of every sort of dressing in existence. Grandma had pulled out her entire kitchen, apparently, for the occasion. And in the center, still in the pot, was a steaming mountain of spaghetti glistening with red sauce.
"Dig in, y'all!" her grandma called, ladling generous servings of spaghetti onto plates as Hikari's cousins scrambled to grab seats. Hikari glanced around, grinning at how everyone seemed to slip back into a rhythm as if no time had passed at all.
"Hey, stranger!" Her oldest cousin Sarah plopped down beside her with a wide smile, looking her over with a mix of curiosity and excitement. "It's been what, three years? You're even cooler than I remembered."
"At least three, maybe four," Hikari replied, slipping into her seat. She still felt a little out of place with everyone's voices flying around, discussing things and people she didn't know, but there was something so wonderful about her family's presence that made her feel right at home.
Just as Grandma handed her a plate of spaghetti, Hikari pulled out a familiar set of wooden chopsticks. She positioned them in her hand with practiced ease, smiling as she gathered up a few strands of spaghetti like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Across the table, her older cousin Josh snorted, nudging his sister. "Look at Hikari, breaking out the chopsticks on spaghetti."
Her youngest cousin, Alex, who had been watching her in wide-eyed curiosity, giggled playfully, his two front teeth only just beginning to grow back in. "How do you even use those? Don't they get stuck?"
Hikari blinked, looking down at her chopsticks and back at her cousins, unsure what was strange about it. "It's noodles," she said simply, like that explained everything. "You eat noodles with chopsticks."
Josh's twin sister Jessica laughed, leaning in. "That's true for ramen, sure. But spaghetti?" She grabbed her fork and twirled a big bite, spinning the noodles expertly. "See—no chopsticks required."
Hikari tilted her head, watching the twirl with genuine interest, but even so, something in her balked at the idea of not using chopsticks. She shook her head, smiling softly, but kept right on eating her spaghetti the way she always did.
Masaru leaned over with a grin. "You see, she's got it figured out," he said, raising his own set of chopsticks for emphasis. "Besides, some things don't need to be fixed."
Grandma laughed, coming around to pass out the garlic bread. "The Tokyo influence is strong, huh?" She gave Hikari a wink, patting her shoulder as she went.
The cousins exchanged amused looks, but the laughter was warm and welcoming. For the rest of the meal, Hikari kept right on with her chopsticks, smiling softly as her family teased her here and there. They asked her questions about Tokyo, about her friends, about the music she loved so much—and even though the sounds and sensations felt a little overwhelming, she felt their curiosity and their love. It had been so long since she'd been with them like this, and somehow, it felt both strange and completely right.
The morning of her cousin Sarah's wedding, Hikari stood in front of a mirror in her grandparents' guest room, smoothing the soft, eggplant-colored satin of her dress. It was beautiful, really—a deep, rich purple that her cousin chose specifically to match the wedding colors, and it fit better than anything she'd ever owned. Not too tight, not too loose. A good dress for a wedding, she thought, not entirely accustomed to seeing herself this dressed up.
Still, as she shifted, the zipper along the back reared its ugly head, an annoying line right down the middle of her spine. She reached back, pressing it flat, though she knew it wouldn't make much of a difference. At least she'd already snipped off the itchy tag. She felt a tiny, private victory over that one.
Aunt Becky peeked in through the door, beaming. "There she is! You look perfect, Hikari. I knew that color would look amazing on you!"
Hikari's cheeks warmed, and she gave a small, slightly shy smile. "Thanks," she replied, glad her aunt couldn't see the quiet struggle going on between her and the zipper.
A few hours later, they arrived at the wedding venue—a rustic barn decked out with fairy lights, a canopy of delicate flowers strung along the beams, and rows of chairs set out for the guests. The air buzzed with excitement, and the barn looked lovely, like a scene straight out of a magazine… but Hikari couldn't help finding it a little funny. She couldn't imagine herself getting married in a barn. A traditional Japanese wedding at a shrine, yes, with its soft, clean wood and quiet, timeless feel. But a barn? She stifled a giggle, imagining the look on Keisuke's face if he were here.
As the ceremony began, Hikari sat quietly, watching Sarah and her soon-to-be husband Chris exchange vows. It was a strange feeling—seeing someone she'd grown up with make such a huge promise. They looked happy, and she felt a warmth spread in her chest as she watched Sarah's face light up with joy.
As the reception filled the barn with laughter and the sounds of clinking glasses, Hikari took her place near the front, guitar in hand. The fairy lights cast a soft glow over the wooden beams, and she took a deep breath, steadying herself. Sarah asked her to play "Breathe" by Faith Hill for the first dance, and even though Hikari had learned it only in the last few days, she felt ready. The song came naturally to her, like it had always been waiting in her fingers and on her tongue.
But each time she practiced it, the same thought would sneak into her mind: Keisuke. Every note, every soft line made her think of him, of his crooked grin and the way he sometimes just listened without saying a word, how he was always so there—steady, solid, like nothing could ever make him leave.
Her cheeks grew warm just thinking about it. It's just a song, she reminded herself, shaking her head. But the lyrics, the soft, yearning melody—it all sent her thoughts to that place she tried not to think about too much.
She glanced over to where Sarah and Chris were waiting, hands clasped, eyes only for each other. When she started playing, the room grew quiet, and Hikari's fingers found the chords with ease, her voice rising steady and clear.
"I can feel the magic floating in the air…"
The words came softly, but filled every corner of the barn. She let herself drift into the song, each line bringing her closer to the same feeling that crept up on her every time she practiced.
"The whole world just fades away.
The only thing I hear
Is the beating of your heart."
Her voice grew warmer, and as she sang, her mind drifted back to Keisuke, his laugh, his rare moments of softness, the way he felt like home. She tried to push the thought aside, but the song made it impossible; each line seemed to echo her own feelings, and her cheeks grew pink, her heart beating a little faster with every line.
"I can feel you breathe, it's washing over me…"
As she strummed the last few chords, she let the music fade out, her voice trailing softly. The barn was silent for a moment, everyone held still in the warmth of the song. Then, like a spark, the room filled with applause, cheers echoing from every corner as Sarah and Chris shared a soft kiss.
Hikari gave a small, shy nod, setting her guitar aside as the song ended. The clapping and shouts faded into laughter and chatter as the newlyweds stayed out on the floor, joined quickly by the rest of the family. Soon enough, the music shifted, filling the space with a faster beat, and everyone was dancing.
A grin spread across Hikari's face as she was pulled into the middle by her cousins. The music took over, and she moved with the rhythm, letting herself be carried away by the laughter, the warmth, and the joy that filled the night.
But in the back of her mind, the song still echoed, each note and line settling quietly in her heart. Breathe. She couldn't wait to tell Keisuke all about it when she got home. And maybe, she'd be brave enough to play it.
Later that evening, after Sarah and Chris left for their honeymoon, the reception started to wind down and the last few songs were only half-danced, Hikari found herself sitting with her cousins, flipping through the photos on her digital camera. They all huddled close, watching as each picture clicked by on the tiny screen.
"Look at this one! You got the perfect angle on Grandma doing the two-step!" Alex giggled, pointing as Hikari flipped through the images of the reception. "Oh, and this one—she looks so happy!" Her cousins "ooh'd" and "aww'd" over each moment, the camera capturing their grandparents dancing, their uncles clinking glasses, their younger cousins sneaking extra slices of cake, and Sarah throwing her bouquet over her shoulder.
After a while, her older cousin Josh leaned in with a grin. "Okay, we've seen all the family pictures," he said, nudging her shoulder. "Show us your Tokyo life! We wanna see what you get up to back home."
Hikari hesitated, then shrugged, unable to hide a small smile as she started scrolling to the photos from back home. There was one of her on Keisuke's bike, her arms wrapped tight around his waist, his hair wild from the wind as they rode through Tokyo. The next showed her, Keisuke, and a few others, all caught mid-laugh, with Chifuyu pulling a ridiculous face in the background.
"Whoa, wait, go back!" Josh interrupted, laughing as he pointed. "Is that your boyfriend or something?"
"Keisuke?" Hikari raised an eyebrow, a hint of pink rising to her cheeks once again. "No, he's just… he's my best friend."
Jessica smirked, leaning in closer. "Best friend, huh?" She shared a knowing look with the others. "He's cute! And that bike—looks like you two have fun."
"Yeah," Hikari said, smiling softly. "We have a lot of fun."
As she clicked through more photos, they reached one with her, Emma, and Senju at the beach, sand covering their legs as they made silly faces. Another showed Toman's entire First Division, all gathered in their black uniforms, looking a little scruffy and rough but relaxed, the distinctive kanji emblazoned on their jackets. Hikari was between Keisuke and Chifuyu, Ryusei towering behind her.
"Hey, what's with those uniforms?" Alex asked, squinting at the screen. "Are y'all in scouts or something?"
Hikari beamed, remembering when the picture was taken. It was right before the summer festival and Mitsuya snapped the photo for her. "This is all of us in the First Division. There's me, Keisuke, Chifuyu, Ryusei and Chuu..."
"What does all that lettering say?" Jessica asked.
"It means 'Throughout the heavens, I alone am the honored one,' it's a Buddhist thing," Hikari explained. "But we mean as something like 'We're the best.'"
"What does the other stuff say?" Alex asked, curious.
Hikari pointed to her right arm in the photo. "That says 'Bōsō Manji gurentai,' biker hoodlums, basically." Pointing to Keisuke's left arm, she continued, "And that says our position. "His says 'First Division Captain.' Mine says 'Third Seat First Division.' You can't see it, but our name ison the back: 'Tokyo Manjikai,' meaning 'Tokyo Manji Gang.'"
Everyone went quiet for a second, and then Jessica blinked, eyes widening. "Wait—gang? Like… an actual gang?"
Hikari looked at them, a bit unsure how much to say, but then nodded. "Yeah, kind of like a biker gang. It's… it's different, though. We're all friends; it's like family."
Josh whistled, shaking his head. "Our little cousin is in a Japanese biker gang? That's… that's actually kinda cool."
Hikari felt a shy smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, I guess it is." She clicked to another photo of them all hanging out at the shrine, looking relaxed and happy. "But really, it's more like… they're my people. We look out for each other."
Josh gave her a curious look. "So, you all meet up… and what? Ride around on motorcycles like those biker movies?"
Hikari laughed, shaking her head. "Not always. Mostly we just hang out, or meet up. Sometimes we get into… stuff."
Josh grinned, nudging her shoulder. "Well, remind me never to mess with you when you're back in Tokyo, huh?"
Hikari chuckled, but she felt a warmth in her chest, grateful to be able to share this part of her life, even if her cousins didn't quite understand all of it. As she showed them more photos, she realized something—it felt good, knowing her family could see this piece of her world and accept it, quirks and all.