That night at Hayato's home, their conversation flowed easily, touching on old memories and feelings they had kept buried. Chiaki spoke more openly than she had in years, telling him about her university days—how she worked multiple part-time jobs to get by, and how hard it was adjusting to life without him.
"There were nights I came home so tired," she said quietly, stirring her soup without really eating. "And I'd wonder if you ever thought about me. But I told myself not to think about it… I had to keep going."
Hayato's face softened, a trace of guilt flickering in his eyes. He gently reached for her hand. "I thought about you every day, Chiaki," he said, his voice low. "You don't know how many times I almost called."
Chiaki looked up at him, her heart tightening at the honesty in his voice. "Then why didn't you call?" she asked softly. Hayato let out a long breath, his shoulders sinking under the weight of his regret. "Because I was stupid," he said quietly. "I thought disappearing was the right thing to do—for both of us."
The silence between them grew thick with everything they hadn't said over the years. Chiaki's heart pounded, and before she could stop herself, she leaned in and kissed him—softly, hesitantly.
Hayato froze in surprise for a second, then let out a low breath and pulled her in, deepening the kiss. His arms wrapped around her, and Chiaki clung to his shirt, the warmth of his touch washing away all her doubts. The kiss was full of emotion—raw, aching, and real.
When they finally pulled away, their foreheads touched as they caught their breath. Hayato's voice was low, almost a whisper. "I'm not letting you leave tonight."
Chiaki's breath hitched as Hayato's strong arms lifted her effortlessly, her face burning with a mix of embarrassment and anticipation. She didn't protest, though her voice trembled as she murmured, "Y-You don't have to carry me—" Hayato's response was a low, confident chuckle, his smirk sending a shiver down her spine. "But I want to," he said, his voice warm and teasing as he carried her toward the bedroom with an ease that made her heart race.
Her fingers clung to his shoulders, her grip tightening as she tried to steady herself, though her thoughts were anything but steady. When he placed her gently onto the bed, the softness of the sheets beneath her only heightened the intimacy of the moment. Hayato hovered above her, his dark eyes searching her face for any sign of hesitation, any flicker of doubt. But there was none.
Chiaki's gaze met his, filled with a quiet certainty that made his chest tighten. She reached up, her fingers trembling slightly as they traced the strong line of his jaw, before she pulled him down for another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent, as if she was trying to convey everything she had been too afraid to say.
Hayato's hands moved to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one fluid motion and tossing it aside. Chiaki's breath caught as she took in the sight of him, his toned muscles illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp.
Her fingers hesitated for a moment before she reached out, brushing lightly over his bare skin, the warmth of him sending a jolt through her. Hayato's breath hitched at her touch, his eyes darkening as he leaned down to press light, lingering kisses along her jaw and neck, his hands sliding gently over her arms, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.
Chiaki shivered under his touch, her heart pounding in her chest as she felt his breath against her skin, hot and steady. His fingers trailed down her arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake before settling at the hem of her top. With agonizing slowness, he gathered the fabric between his fingers, his dark eyes locked onto hers—searching, asking.
"May I?" His voice was rough, barely more than a whisper.
She nodded, her lips parting slightly as he lifted the material upward, his knuckles brushing against her ribs, her stomach, then finally freeing her from the last of it. The cool air kissed her bare skin, but his gaze was warmer, more intoxicating. His hands returned to her, tracing the newly exposed curves with a reverence that made her breath catch.
Hayato didn't rush. Every button, every clasp was undone with deliberate care, his fingertips lingering as if memorizing the feel of her. When the last barrier slipped away, he exhaled sharply, his restraint visibly fraying.
"God, Chiaki…" His palm cradled her cheek, his thumb brushing her lower lip before he claimed her mouth again, deeper this time, his body pressing hers into the mattress. The weight of him, the heat—it was overwhelming in the best way.
Her hands, once tentative, now clutched at his shoulders, her nails lightly scraping his skin as he kissed down her neck, her chest, worshipping every inch of her with lips and whispered words.
"You're perfect… so perfect."
Chiaki gasped as his hands slid possessively down her back, pulling her flush against him. The heat of his bare skin against hers was intoxicating—every nerve in her body alight with need. His mouth left hers only to trail searing kisses down her throat, his teeth grazing just enough to make her whimper.
"Hayato—" Her voice was a breathless plea, fingers digging into his shoulders as his hands explored the curves of her body with bold reverence.
He groaned against her skin, his touch growing hungrier—yet still controlled, still worshipful. When his palm cupped her breast, her back arched instinctively, pressing into him. His thumb circled her peaked nipple, teasing until her breaths came in ragged little gasps.
"You feel so good," he growled, lowering his head to take her into his mouth.
Chiaki cried out, her hands fisting in his hair as his tongue swirled over her sensitive flesh. Pleasure shot through her like lightning, pooling low in her stomach. She could feel his own desperation in the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch, in the ragged edge of his breathing.
Chiaki's breath hitched as Hayato's fingers traced lower, his touch feather-light yet electrifying. His free hand skimmed down her stomach, fingers teasing along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, making her shiver. She arched instinctively toward him, her body responding before her mind could catch up.
"Hayato—" His name left her lips in a gasp as his fingers finally dipped between her legs, exploring her with slow, deliberate strokes. His touch was gentle but confident, learning her, worshiping her, coaxing soft whimpers from her throat.
He kissed her deeply, swallowing her moans as his fingers moved in slow circles, each stroke sending sparks through her veins. She clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging lightly into his skin, her hips lifting against his hand in silent plea.
"You feel so good," he murmured against her lips, his voice rough with desire. "So warm… so perfect for me."
Between kisses, he shifted, finally shedding the last of his own clothing. The heat of his bare skin against hers was intoxicating—every inch of him pressed against her, hard and wanting. She could feel his strength, his restraint barely holding back as he settled between her thighs
.
"Tell me if it's too much," he breathed, his forehead resting against hers. His hand guided himself to her entrance, the tip of him pressing against her slick heat.
Chiaki's fingers tightened in his hair, her body trembling—not from fear, but from anticipation.
"I want you," she whispered.
And with that, he slowly, so slowly, pushed inside, his breath shuddering as he buried himself in her warmth. The first slow push stole her breath—a stretch, a burn, a pleasure so deep it bordered on pain.
The first slow push stole her breath—a stretch, a burn, a pleasure so deep it bordered on pain. Chiaki gasped, her fingers tightening in the sheets as her body adjusted to him. Hayato stilled instantly, his muscles trembling with restraint, his forehead damp against hers.
"Breathe," he murmured, brushing his lips over her eyelids, her cheeks, her parted mouth.
"Just breathe… I've got you."
She exhaled shakily, her body gradually relaxing around him as the initial sting melted into something warmer, fuller. He moved again—incremental, careful—each shallow thrust coaxing a soft sigh from her lips.
"Hayato…" Her voice was a whisper, a plea, her hips lifting tentatively to meet his.
That small movement shattered his control. With a groan, he sank deeper, his hands cradling her hips as he began a slow, rolling rhythm. The friction was exquisite, the heat between them liquid and consuming. Chiaki's back arched as pleasure coiled tighter, her nails scoring lightly down his back.
"You feel—ah—too good," he gritted out, his thrusts growing more deliberate, each one dragging against a spot that made her whimper. His mouth found her breast, laving the peaked nipple before sucking gently, and the dual sensation—his lips, his body moving inside her—sent sparks behind her eyelids.
She was close. The tension built like a cresting wave, her thighs clamping around his hips as her breaths turned ragged.
"Come for me," he urged, his voice dark and rough. "Let me feel you."
And when his thumb circled that aching bundle of nerves, she shattered—a cry spilling from her lips as pleasure ripped through her, her body clamping around him in rhythmic pulses.
Hayato followed her over the edge with a groan, his hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside her, his arms locking around her like she was the only anchor in the storm.
Afterward, he gathered her against his chest, his heartbeat thundering against her ear. His fingers traced idle patterns down her spine as their breathing slowed, the air thick with the scent of sweat and shared warmth.
"Okay?" he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair.
Chiaki smiled drowsily, her limbs heavy with satisfaction. "More than okay."
As they lay together, wrapped in each other's arms, Hayato held Chiaki close, his forehead resting against hers as he caught his breath. "Chiaki," he said softly, his voice rough with emotion, "I love you." The words filled the quiet room, and for a moment, everything stood still. Chiaki felt tears well in her eyes—not from sadness, but from relief and joy. She smiled, gently tracing his face with her fingers. "I love you too, Hayato," she whispered, her voice unsteady but sure. A quiet smile touched Hayato's lips as he leaned in to kiss her again—soft, slow, and full of everything they had waited so long to say.
That night, they talked for hours, their voices low and close in the stillness. Wrapped in each other's arms, they shared memories and quiet confessions, reconnecting pieces of their past and present. They laughed over childhood moments, spoke of what shaped them, and revealed the pain they had hidden for years.
Hayato spoke of his regrets and how he had never stopped thinking of her. Chiaki admitted to the loneliness behind her smiles and the countless nights she had wondered if he still remembered her. As the night wore on, their words softened, their touches grew more gentle, and their hearts finally found their rhythm again.