Chapter 86: Distance

Chapter 86: Chapter 86: Distance

Three days passed before Haruki realized something was wrong.

Not dramatically wrong.

Not crisis wrong.

Just... different.

Yui became busy.

At first, it seemed normal.

New job.

Training.

Longer hours.

New responsibilities.

Reasonable explanations.

The problem wasn’t absence.

The problem was habit.

For months, Yui had existed naturally inside his routine.

Messages.

Visits.

Dinner.

Conversations.

Small things.

Now those things appeared less often.

Not gone.

Reduced.

Enough to notice.

Not enough to complain about.

A frustrating category.

Haruki discovered this while eating convenience store food alone on Friday evening.

The apartment felt larger.

He disliked that immediately.

His phone buzzed.

Yui.

Good news.

Finished first field assignment.

Haruki smiled.

Then frowned.

Because she sounded happy.

Which was good.

Very good.

The feeling still annoyed him.

The realization arrived before he could stop it.

He missed her.

The thought sat there.

Uncomfortable.

Undeniable.

His first instinct was work.

A terrible instinct.

Haruki opened Chapter Twenty-One.

Ren prepared for the broadcast.

Miyu prepared for consequences.

Shiori prepared backup plans.

Everybody moved toward disaster knowingly.

The Chapter worked.

The problem was Haruki.

His focus wandered repeatedly.

Eventually he gave up.

A rare event.

The apartment suddenly felt too quiet.

So he left.

Tokyo greeted him with evening lights and crowded sidewalks.

People flowed through the city.

Couples.

Families.

Workers.

Students.

Life.

The movement helped.

Slightly.

Until he noticed someone waving.

Sora Tachibana.

Of course.

The charismatic creator somehow appeared everywhere.

The man sat outside a ramen shop speaking with five people simultaneously.

Everybody looked entertained.

Naturally.

Sora noticed him immediately.

"Threadless Gate!"

Several people turned.

Haruki immediately regretted existing.

Sora laughed.

"Come eat."

Not a request.

A command disguised as friendliness.

Ten minutes later Haruki sat among strangers discussing manga.

The experience felt surreal.

Sora introduced everyone.

Remembered names.

Remembered projects.

Remembered personal details.

Effortlessly.

Haruki watched in disbelief.

This wasn’t discipline.

This wasn’t preparation.

This was talent.

Different from Aoi.

Potentially more dangerous.

Halfway through dinner, a younger creator asked Sora a question.

"How do you network so well?"

Sora blinked.

Then answered honestly.

"I like people."

The table laughed.

The creator looked disappointed.

Because they expected a technique.

Not sincerity.

Sora noticed.

Then elaborated.

"Most people treat networking like a transaction."

A pause.

"I treat it like making friends."

Simple.

The answer somehow explained everything.

Haruki hated it.

Mostly because it made sense.

The evening continued.

Stories.

Editors.

Deadlines.

Industry gossip.

At one point, Sora casually mentioned rejecting a publisher.

Several creators nearly choked.

"What?"

Sora shrugged.

"Wrong fit."

The confidence felt absurd.

Haruki thought about his own contract.

The fear.

The uncertainty.

Sora noticed immediately.

Dangerous.

Very dangerous.

"You got your first offer."

Not a question.

Haruki sighed.

"How does everybody know everything?"

The table laughed.

Sora pointed at himself.

"I know people."

Fair.

Terrifying.

Fair.

The conversation shifted again.

By the time Haruki returned home, midnight approached.

His phone buzzed while unlocking the apartment door.

Yui.

The message contained a photo.

A small community center.

Several elderly residents.

A smiling volunteer team.

And Yui.

Tired.

Happy.

The caption contained only one sentence.

I think I chose the right job.

Haruki stared at the image longer than expected.

Then typed:

Looks like it.

His thumb hovered.

Several more words nearly followed.

Didn’t.

The message sent.

Immediately afterward he felt stupid.

Very stupid.

The apartment remained quiet.

The photo stayed on screen.

For several seconds he considered calling.

Didn’t.

Instead he opened Chapter Twenty-One.

A mistake.

Five minutes passed.

No work happened.

His phone buzzed again.

Yui.

That’s all?

Haruki laughed.

Actually laughed.

Then typed:

You look happy.

Several seconds passed.

Then:

I am.

Another message arrived.

Missed having dinner together though.

Haruki stared.

The apartment suddenly felt smaller.

Better.

Much better.

Outside, Tokyo continued moving through the night.

Inside, Haruki looked at the message again.

Then at the unfinished Chapter.

Then back at the message.

For the first time in months, a problem appeared that no system window could solve.

No rival could challenge.

No publisher could negotiate.

Distance.

Not physical distance.

The distance that appeared when two people started moving toward different futures.

And for the first time, Haruki wasn’t sure whether he wanted to ignore that feeling.

Or understand it.