おかえりなさいませ | Embrace of Belonging

Through winding paths, the weary traveler roams, seeking solace, yearning for familiar tones.

Then, at long last, beneath familiar skies' dome, they find their haven, the sweet embrace of home.

✩★✩

As he steps into the bustling terminal, the air wraps around him like a caress from the heart of winter. Each inhalation carries the delicate whisper of snowflakes, their icy breath dancing lightly on his lips, leaving behind a trace of crisp, invigorating chill. It's as if the very essence of the season has woven itself into the fabric of the airport, infusing every molecule with the purity and magic of snow-kissed days.

Outside the window, the icicles adorned branches, draping leaves and swaying grass like precious dew-kissed jewels, aglow under the tender morning light. Winter held a special magic, indeed—a marvel akin to the enchantment of of one's first love. But, he couldn't help the feeling of home that swelled up in him.

In the bloom of youth, Kazama once held airports in a tender embrace of dreams. They stood as beacons of opulence and reverence, forever echoing with the footsteps of his parents where they danced, tethered to those gleaming terminals. His father practically made a home within those terminals, and for Kazama, they had embodied promise, the compass to the life he yearned for.

Yet as the years wove their tapestry, the luster faded. The pristine white walls and their echoes grew sickening. They resonated with heartfelt farewells, glistening tears that succumbed to tearful goodbyes that never seemed to give his parents pause. None of which could beckon them to turn, to truly see him - not as a ledger entry or a business investment, but as their flesh and blood.

In those echoing corridors, he had known sorrow intimately, tears flowing as ceaselessly as his parents' absences. The only warmth he found was in the steady stream that traced his cheeks.

Now, airports stood as monuments to his bitterness, symbols of abandonment and estrangement from the haven he had crafted with Shin-Chan. They marked a departure from the cocoon of affection, a leave-taking from the sanctuary of shared love, where moments unfolded like drops of sweet honey, cherished and dripping with tender sweetness.

He could not wait to bask in that warmth again, to go back home and avoid the outside world that was filled with irritating people and idiots, to be hide under the covers with his own personal sunshine that made even the coldest winters warmer.

The gnawing hunger that had plagued him throughout the flight dissipated entirely. Who could care about sustenance when the promise of home lay so tantalizingly close? The throngs of bustling strangers only served to fortify his determination to reach his cherished haven.

When others waxed poetic about travel, they painted it in hues of grandeur and otherworldly beauty. They spoke of it like a treasure trove, likened it to the value of irreplaceable gems. They described the sensation of wind tousling through hair, and the vision of a low-hanging moon in a sky studded with twinkling jewels, as stars gazed benevolently from above.

Rarely did they speak of the solitude, the stark realization that not even Michelin-starred delicacies could supplant bento-boxes prepared with love. No sumptuously soft bed could replace the warmth found on the other side, and not even a handshake from the most renowned could outshine the embrace of a familiar, affectionate hug awaiting at home.

For how could they understand? They had never encountered a soul like Shin-Chan.

Kazama remained perpetually astounded by the fact that someone like Shin-Chan had chosen to be with him, that he had managed to win Shin-Chan's heart. As the world often remarked, their personalities were poles apart, and, as Nene delighted in jesting, they had resembled a cat and a mouse in their younger days. Shin-Chan had taken immense pleasure in taunting him back then.