Chapter 5: Where Warmth Lingers || Nukumori no Nokoru Basho

  Shunsuke’s Apartment, Roppongi Hills → September 23, 2022

  "There was a warmth more certain than words.”

  Shunsuke sat on the couch in the soft evening light of his living room while Miyu showered. In his hands, he held a small plush seal, its once-white fur slightly faded with age. A faint smile touched his lips. Beside him, Kuro sat attentively, sniffing the toy before giving it a soft pat with his paw, as if offering approval.

  The sound of the bathroom door opening drew his gaze up. Miyu stepped out, wrapped in casual comfort, her damp hair trailing over her shoulders.

  “Thank you for letting me shower, Shunsuke-kun,” she said with a gentle smile.

  He nodded, a hint of warmth rising in his cheeks as he held out the plush seal to her.

  “For your daughter,” he murmured. “It’s old—something I’ve had since I was a kid. I thought Yuki might like it.”

  Miyu blinked, her eyes glimmering as she accepted it with both hands. “She’ll love it. Are you sure you want to give it away?”

  Shunsuke nodded softly. “Yes. I still have the memory of that day. That’s enough.” He smiled, a little shy, but steady.

  Miyu brushed a thumb over the worn fabric, touched. “Thank you, Shunsuke.” She hesitated, then asked quietly, “Do you like seals?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah. Seals are my favorite aquatic animal.” His gaze drifted somewhere distant, wistful. “Sometimes I wish I could just be one—spend all day lying around, doing nothing.”

  Miyu laughed, the sound light and warm, and for a moment the air between them felt easy, unguarded.

  “Who gave this to you?” Miyu asked softly, curiosity glimmering in her voice.

  Shunsuke’s smile deepened, his gaze turning distant as the memory surfaced.

  “I was seven,” he began quietly. “My sister Misaki and Ryuichi took me to the aquarium.”

  He could almost see it again—the wide glass walls, the shimmer of blue light dancing over the floor, the cool scent of salt and water in the air. He’d been completely mesmerized by the seal habitat, refusing to move no matter how many exhibits they passed.

  “Misaki and Ryuichi left me there for a bit while they looked around,” he continued, a faint laugh escaping him. “When they came back, I was still standing in the same spot, watching the seals. I think I could’ve stayed there forever.”

  His eyes softened with the memory.

  “My sister bought this plush for me at the souvenir shop—so I could have my own little seal when we went home.”

  Miyu smiled, cradling the little plush in her hands. “Yuki will be happy to have it. She loves cute things,” she said softly.

  Shunsuke’s smile deepened, his eyes gentle. “I tell her it’s from someone very special,” Miyu added.

  Her words made his breath hitch; a faint blush crept up his cheeks. He cleared his throat quietly, trying to steady the sudden flutter in his chest. “I can drive you home, if you’d like,” he offered, his tone careful but warm.

  Miyu nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Only if it’s not too much trouble—and please be careful,” she said with a small smile.

  “I won’t drive right up to your door,” he reassured her, his lips quirking in a faint grin. “I understand, Mochi-chan.”

  She giggled, her laughter light and genuine. “Then it’s fine, Purin-kun.”

  For a brief, quiet moment, their eyes met—and the air between them softened, filled with something unspoken yet unmistakably gentle.

  Kuro suddenly hopped off the couch, chirping loudly, his tail flicking in excitement.

  Shunsuke chuckled. “I guess Kuro wants to come with us,” he said, watching the raccoon’s eager movements.

  Miyu knelt down, her smile tender as she patted Kuro’s head. “Of course you can come too,” she said warmly.

  Kuro looked up at Shunsuke, then sat back on his haunches, tiny arms stretched toward him in an unmistakable plea to be carried. Shunsuke laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, you spoiled little prince,” he murmured, bending down to scoop him up. Kuro settled comfortably against his chest, letting out a pleased chirp, while Shunsuke reached for his car keys with his free hand.

  They left the apartment and made their way to the elevator. The hallway lights were soft, casting a faint golden glow across the clean floor. As the elevator doors slid open, Shunsuke’s neighbor stepped out—a man in his fifties with kind eyes and a gentle, familiar nod.

  Shunsuke bowed politely. “Good evening.”

  The man returned the gesture, then noticed Kuro nestled in Shunsuke’s arm. His face brightened. “Ah, such a cute tanuki! I didn’t know you had a pet.”

  Shunsuke smiled faintly. “He usually stays inside. Doesn’t like to socialize much.”

  The neighbor chuckled, giving Kuro a light pat before heading down the hall. The raccoon chirped once in acknowledgment, his tiny black eyes following the man until the elevator doors closed again with a soft chime.

  When they reached the parking area, the evening air was cool and still, the low hum of the city softened by distance. Shunsuke walked beside Miyu toward his car, the metallic gleam of its surface catching the faint glow of the overhead lights.

  “Kuro, you’re sitting in the back today,” he said lightly as he opened the door. “Miyu’s taking the passenger seat.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  The raccoon looked up at him with round, betrayed eyes, then let out a sharp chirp — the kind that very clearly meant but that’s my seat, with my heating and my blanket.

  Miyu couldn’t help but laugh, covering her mouth. “One spoiled little prince,” she teased. Then, softening, she added, “I can sit in the back if you want. That way Kuro can stay next to you.”

  Shunsuke chuckled, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t have much space back there. Don’t worry — he’ll survive one trip.”

  He set Kuro down gently and took the small, neatly folded blanket from the passenger seat. With practiced ease, he laid it out across the backseat, smoothing it once before picking Kuro up again. The raccoon gave a tiny huff of disapproval but didn’t resist as Shunsuke placed him down.

  “There. Your throne is ready,” Shunsuke said with mock solemnity.

  Kuro blinked up at him, then — with a resigned chirp — curled into the blanket, tucking his nose under his tail.

  Miyu smiled, watching the two of them. “He really loves you,” she said softly.

  Shunsuke glanced at her, a faint warmth in his eyes. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Guess he’s stuck with me.”

  Miyu settled into the passenger seat, the little seal plush resting gently in her hands. She glanced toward the back, where Kuro was curled up on his blanket, his dark eyes fixed on her.

  “I’m sorry, little guy,” she murmured.

  Kuro lifted his head and gave a soft, forgiving chirp.

  “He’s fine,” Shunsuke said with a faint smile as he started the engine, the quiet purr filling the enclosed space. “As soon as I drop you off in Ichigaya, I’ll put him back in his royal seat.”

  Miyu chuckled, her smile warm in the dim glow of the dashboard lights. “Your car must’ve been expensive,” she said softly, tracing a finger along the stitched leather of the door.

  Shunsuke nodded, eyes on the road as they pulled out of the parking lot. “Yeah. I bought it back when I was still working as a host. Appearances were everything back then… even now, as Shun Ishihara. But I guess you already understand that.”

  Miyu’s gaze drifted to the city lights outside her window. “Yes,” she said quietly. “It’s not easy—being watched all the time, pretending you don’t feel the weight of it.”

  “I’ve seen some of your photos before,” Shunsuke said softly, his tone warm but sincere, “but they don’t really capture your natural charm.”

  Miyu turned her gaze toward the window, her cheeks blooming with color. “Th-thank you…” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “Maybe it’s just that I can recognize it,” he continued gently. “In your photos, you look… composed, almost too perfect. It’s like you’re wearing a mask, not showing the real you.” He paused, his voice softening even more. “It’s not a bad thing—don’t take it that way. But your real beauty, the kind that’s just you, gets hidden behind it.”

  “Thank you, Shunsuke. It’s… nice to hear you say that,” Miyu said softly, her voice carrying a shy warmth. After a brief pause, she glanced at him. “Can I ask you something? About… Shun Ishihara?”

  Shunsuke nodded, his expression open, gentle. “Of course. You can ask me anything.”

  Miyu hesitated, her fingers brushing the plush seal in her lap. “Your age—you’re twenty-seven, but still a student. What happened? Was it because of your time as a host?” Her tone was cautious, curious but kind. Then, as if afraid she’d said too much, she added quickly, “I don’t mind you being six years older than me.”

  A quiet chuckle escaped him. “My public persona is actually older than I really am,” he explained, his eyes soft with a trace of amusement. “When I started working as a host at eighteen, the agency decided that ‘Shun Ishihara’ should be twenty-one. I looked mature enough that no one questioned it.”

  Miyu tilted her head slightly, frowning in thought. “Why would they do that?”

  Shunsuke laughed softly, the sound warm and self-deprecating. “So no one would ask questions when I was drinking with clients.”

  Miyu nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I understand…” she murmured.

  “I’m twenty-four,” Shunsuke said with a faint smile. “I actually studied something else before switching to business administration. That’s why I’m still at university.”

  “Really?” Miyu tilted her head slightly, curiosity soft in her voice. “Why did you switch? Did you not like what you studied before?”

  He shook his head. “No… I loved it. I was studying music composition,” he said quietly, a wistful note threading through his words. “It was always my dream.”

  Miyu’s smile gentled; she could hear the ache beneath his calm tone. “Your parents didn’t want you to finish?” she asked softly.

  Shunsuke nodded once, his gaze drifting toward the road ahead. “When I was twenty-one, my older brother was disowned. After that, my father—reluctantly—made me the heir to the family.” His hands tightened slightly on the wheel. “Without even telling me, he withdrew me from the music program and enrolled me in business administration.”

  He exhaled, the sound quiet but heavy. “He said it was time I did something ‘useful.’”

  Miyu’s gaze softened, a shadow of sadness flickering across her face. She was quietly grateful that her own parents had never forced her into anything. “That’s so unfair to you,” she murmured. “Haven’t you suffered enough already?”

  A dry, bitter laugh escaped Shunsuke’s throat. “He doesn’t care about my suffering. What he wants is control—over me, over everyone in the Kawamura-gumi,” he said, his tone steady but edged with fatigue. “He believes that if he controls everything, no one will ever dare to challenge him.”

  He gave another hollow laugh, the sound more weary than amused. “If only he knew that half the Kawamura-gumi is already tired of his games.”

  Miyu glanced at him, worry creasing her brow. “Then why don’t they rebel?” she asked softly.

  Shunsuke’s eyes remained on the road, his voice low, almost resigned. “They’re waiting,” he added softly. “Not out of fear, but because they don’t want me to inherit his shadow before I’m ready.”

  Shunsuke eased the car to a stop, the quiet hum of the engine fading into the night. He turned to her, leaning close enough that his breath brushed against her skin before he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

  “Miyu… promise me something,” he whispered, his voice barely carrying above the sound of the rain against the windshield.

  She looked at him, concern flickering in her eyes. “What is it, Shunsuke?”

  He smiled faintly — a small, fragile thing that didn’t reach his eyes. “If it ever becomes too dangerous to love me… run. Take Yuki and go. I don’t want either of you to get hurt because of what’s between us.” His voice trembled, soft but heavy with sadness. “I could still love you from afar, knowing you’re safe. But if something happened to you — to Yuki — because of me…” He drew in a sharp breath, unable to finish.

  Miyu’s gaze didn’t waver. She shook her head slowly. “I understand,” she murmured, “but I can’t promise you that.”

  He blinked, startled.

  “I can’t walk away from you anymore,” she said, her voice trembling but certain.

  Shunsuke nodded, a quiet resolve settling in his eyes. “I understand. Then I’ll protect you and Yuki — with my life if I have to,” he said, his voice soft but steady. He leaned forward, brushing his lips gently against hers in a brief, tender kiss. “Good night, Miyu. I’ll see you tomorrow at university.”

  She smiled, her gaze lingering on him. “See you tomorrow, Shunsuke. I’ll message you later.”

  He watched her step out of the car and disappear around the corner toward her home, her figure fading into the glow of the streetlights. For a moment, he sat there, smiling faintly to himself. Then he turned, reaching into the backseat to lift Kuro — still bundled in his blanket — and placed him gently on the passenger seat.

  Kuro chirped softly, his little head tilting up toward Shunsuke.

  “I know, I know,” Shunsuke murmured, turning on the seat heating.

  As soon as the warmth spread, Kuro let out a deep, content purr that filled the quiet car. Shunsuke chuckled softly, started the engine, and eased the car back onto the road — already thinking of the countryside, of a few quiet hours where Kuro could roam freely and the weight on his own shoulders might feel just a little lighter.