Chapter 219: Finale - - The Beginning of Forever
The dawn light filtered through the curtains in their modest apartment. Kuro awoke first, as he always did, and saw the silhouettes of objects in the bedroom. Minami slept beside him, her black hair spreading across the pillow like drops of ink on a blank sheet of paper. Three years of living in the same apartment, and Kuro still occasionally found himself staring at his sleeping girlfriend.
Kuro stretched his hand to grab his phone lying on the night stand—7:23 AM. They had twenty minutes before leaving for school. He poked his girlfriend gently.
"Fives minutes more," she said, wrapping herself into a blanket tighter.
"Minami, you have first period."
"Your first period. I have a free block."
Kuro sighed and sat up. "Are you going to be late for your free block?"
She opened one eye. "That’s the advantage of having a free block. You can’t be late for anything."
He smiled despite of himself. He used to believe that happiness is something romantic, magnificent. Happiness is something like grand confession and a declaration of eternal love. However, happiness had come to him through everyday arguments with his girlfriend.
Minami finally sat up, and her black locks fell in disarray. "What time did you say?"
"Twenty-three minutes."
"Fuck! Why didn’t you wake me earlier?"
"I did. You said five more minutes."
"That was a different five minutes. That was sleepy five minutes. This is an ’oh God I’m going to be late’ five minutes."
Kuro laughed—the sound, which still surprised him sometimes. He had believed that in order to be happy, he needs to make some impressive actions and say beautiful things. However, the happiness has come to him through arguments about breakfast and who has read the book first.
At school, the corridor was buzzing with people rushing to their first classes. Kuro and Minami moved to their classes shoulder-to-shoulder. The closeness became unconscious—this proximity, this companionship.
"Kuro-sensei! Minami-sensei!"
A group of third year students stopped in front of them, their faces shining with interest. A girl with glasses spoke first.
"How long have you two been together?"
Minami’s face turned crimson. "What? Who told you—where did you hear—"
"Three years," Kuro said calmly. "A little more than three years, actually."
Students exchanged glances. "So you have been together since before you started working at this school?"
"Something like that," Kuro answered. He glanced at Minami, whose face turned scarlet. It was cute, he decided.
"Minami-sensei is blushing!" another student shouted happily.
"I am not!" Minami said, and it only made students laugh.
"Alright, alright," Kuro said, moving Minami away from them. "Don’t you have classes to go to?"
They were walking to the staff room, when Minami elbowed him in the ribs. "You didn’t need to tell them that."
"Why not? It’s the truth."
"You could have said that it’s a private information or something else."
"Or I could answer this question frankly." He paused and looked at her. "Isn’t it so terrible?"
Minami’s expression softened. "No," she confessed quietly. "It isn’t terrible."
That evening, they were walking home together, as they had done it many times before. Street lamps began to light up, spreading pools of light on the pavement. Minami was silent and thoughtful today.
When they got home, she went to the bookshelf in the living room and ran her fingers on the spines of the books, finding the thing she needed—an old photo album they had forgotten.
"Look at this," she said, pulling out the album. "I found it while cleaning last weekend."
She opened the album and showed the picture—photo taken some time ago, before they knew anything about each other. They were standing at some school event on the opposite sides of the hall.
"I remember this day," Kuro said softly. "This was the day when I noticed you for the first time."
"Really? You looked so serious. I thought you hated me."
"I didn’t hate you." He took the album from her and studied the picture. "I didn’t know how to treat you. You seemed to be so... vivid. Noisy."
Minami laughed. "You were quiet and brooding. Like a character from your novels."
"I don’t brood."
"Yes, you did brood constantly."
Kuro put the album on the table. "You were scary for me," he confessed. "I didn’t know how to communicate with a person who made me feel so much."
Minami’s mischievous smile faded. "I didn’t know either," she confessed. "But I always hoped that you will notice me, and you did."
They were sitting together on the couch, forgetting the album between them. Outside, the city was humming with sounds of evening—traffic, neighbor’s conversation, a bark of the dog. Inside, the silence was comfortable and familiar.
"Do you remember our first confession?" Minami asked. "You were so awkward with it."
"You don’t need to remind me."
"I’m going to remind. You were stammering all the time, looking at your shoes, as if they contained the answers of universe."
"I was nervous!"
"See? You weren’t always so confident."
Kuro shook his head but smiled. "I thought love should be something romantic," he confessed. "I was imagining big declarations and magnificent moments."
Minami tilted her head. "And now?"
He surveyed the room filled with mismatched books in a row, their blanket which she always managed to steal at nights and the mugs with coffee which they would leave in the kitchen because neither of them remembered whose turn it was to wash them.
"Now I think love is having breakfast together," he stated. "Coming back together. Fighting over silly things and waiting for each other and holding hands without giving a damn about anything else."
Minami kept silent for some time before asking:
"Are you happy?"
Kuro took her hand. "More than I expected."
"And will we be like this for years to come?"
"Most likely."
"Most likely?"
"We’ll fight."
"Silly."
"You’ll continue stealing my blanket."
"Sure."
"And I’ll continue irritating you."
"You already do."
They both giggled—that familiar, carefree laughter which was created by years of living together. And then Kuro squeezed Minami’s hand and added:
"But I’ll always come back home to you."
Years Later
Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains of their house creating soft shadows in the bedroom. Kuro opened his eyes first, as he usually did, rubbing his eyes because of the sudden brightness. Next to him, Minami continued to sleep with her black hair scattered over the pillow in the way reminding spilled ink. Beside her, their daughter—a three-year-old girl called Haruka, whose tiny fingers clung to Minami’s pajama sleeve—was sleeping soundly too.
Next to them, in the crib, their one-year-old son Kenji was sleeping with gentle breaths moving in and out of his body.
Kuro reached for his cell phone which stood on the nightstand—7:23 AM. Exactly the same time as many years ago. He nudged Minami lightly.
"Five more minutes," she mumbled, tightening the blanket around herself and Haruka.
"Minami, you promised to finish our lesson plans today."
"They’re your lesson plans. I have a free period."
Kuro sighed, but he was smiling. Sometimes nothing changed. He looked at their daughter who began to wake up and gently wiped away the hair from her forehead.
"Haru-chan," he whispered. "It’s time to wake up."
Haruka’s eyes opened—they looked exactly the same as her mother’s, dark and warm. "Daddy?"
"Good morning."
Immediately, she tried to cling to him and he lifted her out of the bed, putting her in his arms. "Where is Mommy?"
"Mommy sleeps."
"I can hear you," Minami mumbled from the pillow.
"You were supposed to."
Kuro carried Haruka into the kitchen, beginning to prepare breakfast. Coffee machine was on—automatic, a present from Minami’s mother. He moved through the morning routine with ease: rice, eggs, miso soup. The house was filled with the smell of home.
Fifteen minutes later, Minami appeared with Kenji on her lap—her hair was tousled. "Lesson plans are ready," she announced. "Kenji woke up at four and I’ve finished them while he was sleeping again."
Kuro turned from the stove. "Why haven’t you waken me up?"
"You were having a nightmare. Your face was all crunched up."
He didn’t remember any nightmare. But he didn’t protest.
For breakfast, Haruka sat between them, excitedly talking about something that had happened at preschool. Kenji was gumming a piece of rice, smearing it around his tray. Coffee was hot, eggs were delicious and everything felt perfect.
Kuro surveyed the table—from his wife, beautiful even in bedhead and with baby drool on her shirt, to their children who were rapidly growing and to the toys and books and dishes which covered their house.
He recalled that night many years ago, when they were sitting in their threadbare couch talking about the future. And he had stated "most likely". But now they were here.
Definitely.
Minami looked at him. "What?"
"Nothing," he said. "I was just thinking."
"About what?"
And he took her hand across the table. "About how I used to wonder if I’ll ever find someone whom I could spend my life with."
Haruka tugged at his sleeve. "Daddy! You aren’t eating!"
He chuckled—that familiar, comfortable laugh which had become an integral part of him.
"You are right, Haru-chan." He grabbed his chopsticks. "Let’s eat."
"Are you happy, Daddy?" Haruka asked, repeating words she had overheard.
Kuro looked at Minami, his gaze meeting hers and seeing the same smile that she used to give him long ago.
"More than I expected," he said.
Minami squeezed his hand. "Will we be like this forever?"
They looked at their children, at their house, at the life they had built together—far from ideal and not so romantic, but entirely their own.
"Most likely," he said.
"Most likely?"
"We’ll fight."
"Silly."
"But I’ll always come back home to you," Kuro added.
Minami smiled.
Forever.
The End