The sky stretched out endlessly above Tokyo, painted with soft hues of orange and lavender as the sun dipped below the horizon.

  Sheichi Nagasaki stood alone on the rooftop of his office building, leaning against the edge with his hands resting lightly on the cold steel railing.

  The evening breeze brushed through his dark, tousled hair. His eyes were distant, locked onto nothing in particular. From here, he could see the glimmer of fading daylight, but it felt far away-detached from the heavy weight pressing on his chest.

  His thoughts drifted into the void, heavy and aimless.

  "What is the point of all this?" he pondered. The long hours spent grinding away in the office, the endless repetition of the same tasks, and the constant chase for things that never seemed to matter. Money, power, success-the markers of achievement.

  But his mind wandered elsewhere.

  He slowly reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. With a swipe, the screen flickered on. His thumb hovered over the gallery app for a moment before he opened it.

  A faint smile tugged at his lips as he scrolled through the photos.

  The first was a picture of his younger sister, Haruka, at the family's summer trip to Hokkaido last year. She was mid-laugh, holding an oversized ice cream cone that was already beginning to melt. Her eyes were bright with mischief, and she flashed him a playful grin, teasing him for losing a bet earlier that day.

  Sheichi chuckled softly, remembering the wager-he had to buy her snacks for the entire week after losing a round of cards. She made sure to milk the punishment for all it was worth, dragging him to every convenience store she could find.

  He swiped to the next photo-a family dinner at their parents' home.

  His father's weathered face was illuminated by candlelight, his usual sternness softened by the warmth of being surrounded by his children. His mother's gentle smile was in the background as she served everyone more rice.

  Haruka was, of course, making silly faces at the camera, trying to ruin the family portrait. Sheichi could still hear her mock complaints that their father was too serious, prompting their mother to swat at her playfully with a dish towel.

  He scrolled to a video next. With a tap, the screen came to life, and familiar voices filled the rooftop.

  The recording was from Haruka's birthday last year.

  The room was dimly lit with only the glow of the candles on her cake. She stood at the center, cheeks puffed out as she dramatically sucked in a large breath before blowing out the candles.

  In the background, Sheichi's voice could be heard teasing her.

  "Don't mess it up or you'll have bad luck for seven years," he joked.

  Haruka shot him a glare, before deliberately blowing out only half the candles. The family burst into laughter, their mother groaning in playful exasperation.

  The sound of their joy drifted through the speaker, so warm, so familiar.

  He exhaled softly, lowering his phone. His eyes drifted back to the skyline, but the familiar ache of longing clung to him.

  "I should call them tomorrow," he muttered under his breath.

  From here, Tokyo looked so serene, so full of life-the streets below buzzing with people finishing their day, heading home to their loved ones. Laughter drifted faintly from the nearby park, where children played as their parents watched.

  Sheichi watched them for a moment. He imagined Haruka running through the park, her laughter filling the air. He could almost hear her playful taunts as she tried to tag him, her hair catching the light of the setting sun.

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  His phone buzzed softly in his pocket, breaking the illusion.

  It was a text from Haruka.

  > "Onii-chan, when are you coming home? Mom's making your favorite tonight".

  He closed his eyes for a brief moment, clutching the phone tighter.

  He had been putting off visiting them for weeks-blaming work, making excuses. Tomorrow, he would go. Tomorrow, he would see them.

  He slipped the phone back into his pocket and turned his back to the peaceful skyline.

  As he turned away from the view, he made his way back inside the building, his footsteps echoing softly in the empty stairwell.

  By the time he reached the streets, the neon lights had begun to flicker on. The crowd was dense but unremarkable-salarymen shuffling home, teenagers loitering outside convenience stores, and couples walking hand in hand.

  Sheichi walked with his hands shoved into his pockets, weaving through the crowd. His apartment wasn't far. The same cramped, unremarkable space he had lived in for the past two years-a place he rarely found comfort in.

  When he reached his building, he took the elevator, feeling the familiar sluggish lurch as it climbed to the sixth floor. The door creaked open with a dull chime, and he stepped into his dimly lit apartment.

  The space was small and barely furnished. A worn-out couch sat near the window, and the sink was cluttered with dishes he hadn't bothered to clean.

  He tossed his jacket onto the back of a chair and loosened his tie. Without bothering to eat or turn on the TV, he fell onto his bed, still fully dressed.

  He stared at the ceiling for a moment, feeling the weight in his chest grow heavier. I'll see them tomorrow. The thought lulled him into a restless slumber.

  As morning sun peeked through the curtains of apartment, casting a faint glow across the room.

  The faint hum of the city buzzed beyond his window-the muffled sounds of cars and distant chatter. It was just another ordinary day, or so it seemed.

  Sheichi sat at the edge of his bed, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees. His phone rested in his hands, the glow of the screen illuminating his face. His eyes lingered on the text from Haruka from the night before.

  > "Onii-chan, when are you coming home? Mom's making your favorite tonight".

  His thumb hovered over the keyboard, but he didn't type anything. Instead, he stared at the message, gnawed by guilt. It had been months since he last visited. Weeks of making excuses. Work, stress, exhaustion-none of it mattered now.

  He let out a shaky breath and rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly ashamed of how long he had put it off.

  "No more excuses," he muttered to himself.

  With a faint smile tugging at his lips, he quickly typed a response.

  > "I'm coming home. Can't wait for dinner."

  He hit send.

  For the first time in a long while, Sheichi felt something loosen in his chest-a small weight lifted. The thought of seeing his family, sitting around the table, hearing Haruka's teasing and his parents' warm voices, felt like a balm on the ache in his heart.

  He quickly got dressed-a simple white shirt, a jacket, and jeans. As he grabbed his keys and phone, he took a brief glance around his apartment. The place felt cold and sterile, devoid of warmth. He hadn't realized how quiet it had become until now.

  With a sigh, he stepped out the door, unaware that he was leaving behind the last shred of peace he would ever know.

  ---

  The train ride to his hometown was ordinary, but there was an unsettling stillness in the air. Sheichi leaned against the window, watching the scenery blur past.

  The early afternoon sun bathed the suburbs in warm light, giving the small streets and residential areas a golden hue.

  Families strolled through parks, children laughed and played along sidewalks, and elderly couples sat on benches, chatting quietly. It was a scene so peaceful, so familiar, that it lulled him into a rare sense of comfort.

  As the train slowed to a stop, Sheichi stood and slung his bag over his shoulder. Stepping onto the platform, he was hit by a gust of warm air, carrying the faint scent of fresh bread from a nearby bakery. It was almost enough to make him forget the heaviness in his heart.

  He made his way through the familiar streets, passing by his old school and the small candy shop where he and Haruka used to waste their pocket money.

  A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he remembered how she would always trick him into buying extra sweets for her.

  Finally, he reached the quiet neighborhood where his family lived. The sight of the modest two-story house.

  The small garden out front was still well-kept, with their mother's roses in full bloom, and the wooden porch creaked softly under his step-just as it always did.

  Before he could knock, the door swung open.

  "Onii-chan!" Haruka's voice rang out, filled with joy.

  She practically threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She was still in her pajamas-a loose hoodie and shorts, her hair a mess, clearly having just woken up.

  Sheichi chuckled, ruffling her hair.

  "You're still in your PJs? What kind of welcome is this?" he teased.

  She pulled back with a playful glare.

  "I didn't know you'd actually show up! I was sure you were gonna bail again," she pouted, pretending to be mad.

  Their mother appeared next, drying her hands on a dish towel. Her eyes widened in pleasant surprise before a warm smile spread across her face.

  "Sheichi? You're here already?" she greeted, wiping her hands before embracing him.

  The scent of soy sauce and simmering broth clung to her apron. It made his stomach growl faintly-his mother was clearly making his favorite dish.

  "Yeah, I figured I couldn't miss out on your cooking," Sheichi replied, giving her a fond smile.

  His father appeared last, leaning casually against the doorway with a faint grin tugging at his lips.

  His eyes-though slightly tired-still held that firm, steady warmth that Sheichi had always known.

  "You finally made time for us, huh?" his father quipped, his tone light but carrying a hint of teasing.

  Sheichi rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish.

  "Yeah... I'm sorry I took so long."

  His father gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, the unspoken forgiveness in the gesture.

  ---

  The afternoon melted into evening, and for the first time in what felt like ages, Sheichi felt at peace. They sat around the dinner table, sharing stories and laughter.

  His mother piled his bowl high with rice, as always. His father listened intently, offering the occasional gruff nod.

  Haruka, of course, was relentless with her teasing, mocking Sheichi for his "office drone" lifestyle.

  "You're getting soft," she teased, poking his arm.

  Sheichi smirked, snatching a piece of meat from her plate.

  "Hey! That's mine!" she whined.

  "Not anymore," he shot back, grinning.

  Their parents watched them with amused smiles, the warmth of the moment so genuine, so whole.

  After dinner, they sat in the living room, drinking tea and sharing more stories. Sheichi found himself lost in the simplicity of it all-the laughter, the familiar banter, and the easy comfort of being surrounded by the people he loved.

  For a fleeting moment, everything felt right.

  Whole.

  Untouched.

  He had no idea this was the last night he would ever have with them.