The soft rumble of a car engine faded outside the small, two-story home tucked between towering apartment buildings. Eighteen-year-old Kael adjusted the straps of his worn-out backpack, eyes darting nervously across the unfamiliar neighborhood. The scent of newly baked bread wafted from a nearby bakery, mixing oddly with the sharp tang of urban dust and distant traffic.
"You'll be fine, Kael," he whispered to himself, fingers tightening around the bag's strap.
The front door creaked open before he even knocked. Standing in the doorway was Mrs. Sato—kind-faced and warm, the woman who had helped raise him from time to time when his mother struggled to make ends meet.
And beside her stood him.
Riven Sato.
Tall, lean, and unreadable as ever. Kael hadn't seen him in three years—not since the last holiday visit when they were both just awkward teenagers. Now Riven had this quiet, unapproachable presence. His dark eyes met Kael's, and for a second, neither of them said a word.
"Kael, welcome," Mrs. Sato said with a smile, reaching for his hand and pulling him into a hug. "Your room is ready. It might feel different living with us full-time, but you're family here, okay?"
Family. That word burned slightly in his chest.
Riven turned away without a greeting, heading back inside. Kael followed, unsure whether he should feel relieved or offended.
The house smelled like cedar and laundry detergent. Familiar, yet foreign.
"You'll be sharing a room with Riven for now," Mrs. Sato added cheerfully, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Riven paused halfway up the stairs and glanced back. "Just don't snore," he said flatly.
Kael blinked, then smirked. "Only if you don't hog the bed."