Shadowed Threads

Part 13: Threads of Attachment

Something about his words stings more than I'd like to admit.

"Five minutes," the headmaster says, his voice still gentle but with an edge of finality. "And I expect you to be there."

He turns and walks away, leaving me to process his words. I glance once more at the space where Kage had been, then at the window framing the families outside. With a deep breath, I close the door and drag myself toward the closet.

I guess I'm going after all.

________________________________________________________________________________

The winter sun filters through the banners hanging high above the courtyard, casting flickering golden light over the gathered families. Laughter and conversation hum around me, a constant, inescapable reminder of everything this weekend is supposed to mean. I sit stiffly among the students, my arms loosely crossed, watching the headmaster address the crowd from the raised platform.

"Welcome," his voice carries effortlessly, each word deliberate and strong. "It is always a privilege to host Family Weekend here at the academy. Our students dedicate themselves to mastering the threads of existence, but they do not do so alone. The support of family, of those who stand beside them, is an invaluable force in their journey."

I drop my gaze, focusing on the frost-kissed stone beneath my feet.

"We honor those who have traveled from near and far to be here today," the headmaster continues. "We celebrate our students' achievements, perseverance, and growth. As they continue on this path, let us remind them that strength is not measured in power alone, but in the bonds they forge and the trust they place in others."

Polite applause spreads through the courtyard. I sit still.

Next to me, Takuto is silent, posture straight, his hands resting neatly in his lap. We aren't exactly avoiding each other, but we aren't speaking either. There's still... a distance. Something about how we're stuck in this in-between space, not quite friends, not just strangers, but teammates with little else connecting us.

Still, sitting here in silence feels even worse.

I shift slightly, casting him a sidelong glance. "So... doing anything for Family Weekend?"

He doesn't answer right away. When he does, his voice is measured, and steady. "My father will be busy with meetings—potential donors, alumni, that sort of thing." A pause. "My mother passed away when I was little."

I blink, caught a little off guard by how easily he says it.

Takuto doesn't offer anything more, and I don't press. I know what it's like to not have a family, even if the circumstances are different.

Then, he turns to me, almost without thinking. "And you?"

It's instinctive, casual. He doesn't realize what he's asking until he already has, and by the time I see the flicker of realization in his amber eyes, it's too late.

I don't answer, just glance toward the families gathered around us. He follows my gaze, and understanding settles in the space between us.

Takuto exhales quietly, shifting beside me. "I... shouldn't have asked that."

I glance at him, catching the way his hands tighten just slightly in his lap. He's still looking ahead, his face as composed as ever, but there's a stiffness to his posture like he realizes he stepped somewhere he shouldn't have.

I shrug, trying to brush it off. "It's fine."

"It wasn't," he says, still not looking at me. His voice is steady, but I can tell he's not quite sure how to fix this.