Chapter 29: Chapter 29 : Step Forward

A few days passed, and Haruto hadn’t stepped outside once.

He stayed in his room, lying on his bed with the curtains half-closed, sunlight barely leaking through. The world outside moved on—birds sang, wind brushed against the trees, but Haruto felt detached from all of it. His phone was silent, his thoughts loud.

Each morning blurred into the next. He would stare at the ceiling for hours, mind drifting between memories and nothingness.

What am I doing?

Where am I going?

He had food, shelter, and people who cared—yet something inside him felt hollow, like his life was paused between one breath and the next. He wasn’t moving forward, but he couldn’t go back either. He had everything... and somehow, nothing at all.

With a quiet sigh, he finally pushed himself out of bed and headed downstairs. The wooden floor creaked under his feet.

In the yard, his grandfather sat on the old wooden chair, gazing at the distant fields. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes carried the calm sharpness of someone who had seen too many seasons come and go.

Haruto walked over and sat beside him. For a moment, neither spoke. The sound of cicadas and the distant rustle of leaves filled the silence.

His grandfather glanced at him with a faint smile.

"You’re not doing well, are you?"

Haruto lowered his eyes, not knowing how to respond. The old man chuckled softly and nodded toward the corner of the yard.

"Do me a favor, will you? You see that pipe there? Pour some water on those plants."

Haruto stood, dragging the hose toward the line of potted plants by the fence. When the water began to flow, he noticed how dull the leaves had become—wilted, dry, lifeless. He slowly poured water over them, watching as the soil darkened, swallowing the moisture like it had been waiting for it.

When he was done, he sat back down beside his grandfather again.

"You didn’t water them for days, did you?" Haruto said quietly. "The leaves are dying."

His grandfather smiled faintly, his wrinkled face creasing deeper.

"These plants," he said, looking at them with gentle eyes, "are just like people. If you don’t pour water regularly, they lose their way. They start to wither, little by little."

He paused, taking a slow breath before continuing.

"You don’t have to work hard all the time, Haruto. You don’t have to chase something far away. Sometimes, all you need to do is look around—really look. Happiness isn’t hidden in things you don’t have. It’s in the things you already do."

Haruto stared at the wet soil, listening quietly.

"Life," his grandfather went on, "isn’t about running faster. It’s about knowing where you’re going. Even when you have nothing now, you’ll get what you need one day. But before that—you have to set your goal. Know what you want, and how you’ll walk toward it. Otherwise..." He gestured to the plants. "You’ll dry up like them."

The words sank into Haruto like water into dry earth. For a while, he said nothing—just watched the tiny droplets clinging to the leaves, sparkling faintly in the sunlight.

Maybe, he thought, he had been too lost in motion to realize he’d stopped growing.

His grandfather leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes with a small smile. "Go find what gives you life again, Haruto. Water your heart. Don’t let it dry out."

Haruto looked up at the sky—bright, endless, alive.

And for the first time in days, he felt a small warmth stirring quietly within him.

The morning air was crisp, and Haruto stood in the yard long after his grandfather went inside. The sound of water dripping from the leaves still lingered in his ears, the sunlight breaking through the trees like a quiet promise.

He looked down at his hands—strong, capable, but without direction.

"Maybe... it’s time I do something meaningful," he murmured to himself.

That day, as he returned to his room, his thoughts began to untangle slowly, piece by piece. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor. The old confusion that once filled his heart began to fade, replaced by a new kind of clarity.

He wanted to work.

He wanted to earn.

Not just for himself—but for his future.

"If I earn money, I’ll save it for what’s ahead," he thought, "and maybe... I can use a part of it to give gifts to the girls I’ve met. Not because I want their bodies, but because I want to show them something real. Something from my heart."

He exhaled softly. The faces of Ayaka, Kana, Ayame—each of them passed through his mind, each carrying a different shade of emotion. Desire, warmth, affection, care... every connection felt unique in its own way.

He realized something then—something simple, but profound.

Love isn’t one color. It’s not one feeling that repeats itself.

It’s like a canvas where every person paints with their own hue.

"I can’t love everyone the same way," he whispered, smiling faintly. "But I can love them honestly—in their own color, in their own rhythm. That way, none of them will ever feel like rivals. Just... pieces of the same story."

The thought comforted him, like a gentle wind brushing past his chest.

And with that, another idea struck him.

Ayame.

He remembered seeing her that day, watering flowers in her yard, wearing her easy smile. Later, he learned she worked at a small convenience store nearby.

Maybe, he thought, this was the right place to start—not just to earn money, but to know her better.

He wanted to see who she was beyond the heat of the moments they’d shared. What she liked, what she dreamed of, what made her smile when no one was watching.

A slow grin spread across his face as he leaned back, hands behind his head.

"Yeah... a part-time job doesn’t sound so bad. I’ll work hard, save money for my future, and maybe... learn what real love looks like."

Outside, the wind stirred the plants again. The sunlight spilled into his room, warm and alive—just like his resolve.

For the first time in a long while, Haruto felt like he had taken a step forward.

The afternoon sun was bright but not harsh. A gentle breeze carried the faint scent of grass and soil as Haruto walked down the narrow countryside road. His steps were steady, his thoughts quiet but focused.

Ahead stood a modest convenience store—the one Ayame worked at. The glass doors gleamed faintly under the sunlight, and the small banner fluttered above: "Mizuno Mart".

Haruto stopped for a second, taking a deep breath. He hadn’t seen Ayame since that day at her house. Somehow, facing her now felt different. This time, he wasn’t coming for pleasure or comfort—he was coming to start something new.

As he entered, the soft chime of the bell rang.

"Welcome!" a familiar voice said.

Haruto looked up—and there she was. Ayame stood behind the counter in her light-blue apron, her hair tied back neatly. The sight of her made something inside him settle. She blinked, surprised at first, but then her lips curved into a gentle smile.

"Haruto? You’re here? What a surprise."

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah... actually, I came for something."

She tilted her head playfully. "Something? Don’t tell me you came to buy another bottle of water just to talk to me again?"

Haruto chuckled softly. "Not this time. I came because... I want to work here."

Her expression shifted slightly—surprise, curiosity, then a small, pleased grin. "Work here? You mean a part-time job?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I want to earn some money, start doing things on my own. I heard from you last time that you work here, so... I thought I’d ask if there’s any spot open."

Ayame’s smile softened, her eyes studying his face. There was something different in him—less of the boy who acted on impulse, more of a young man trying to find his ground.

"Well, you’re in luck," she said finally. "We were short one staff member for the evening shifts. If you’re serious, I can recommend you to the manager. He’s my uncle."

Haruto nodded. "I’m serious."

She leaned a little closer across the counter, her tone teasing but warm. "You sure you can handle it? It’s not just standing around. You’ll have to lift boxes, stock shelves, deal with customers..."

He smiled faintly. "If it’s with you around, I’ll manage."

Ayame laughed quietly, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "You’ve got some confidence now, huh? I like that."

Then she picked up a form from under the counter and handed it to him. "Here. Fill this out, and I’ll hand it to my uncle. You can probably start tomorrow if everything’s fine."

Haruto took the paper, glancing at it with a small nod. "Thanks, Ayame. I really mean it."

When he looked up again, she was smiling softly—genuinely this time. "You’re welcome, Haruto. It’ll be nice having you around again... in a different way."

The faint hum of the store’s air conditioner filled the silence between them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was warm, like something quietly beginning again.

Haruto filled out the form by the counter while Ayame restocked snacks on the nearby shelf, occasionally glancing his way.

And as he finished, he thought—

Maybe this is where I start understanding her heart, not just her body.