The living room smells faintly of fresh tea and fabric softener. Lace curtains sway at the open window, letting in the late afternoon light. The television hums quietly in the corner, muted, its colors spilling over the tatami mats.

You're already seated on the couch, hands on your knees. Akiko moves with practiced grace, floral skirt brushing against her legs as she sets down a tray of tea on the table between you.

Her expression is soft, but there's no mistaking the weight in her eyes. You've known her for years, mostly in passing—Takeshi's mother, polite, warm, someone who always smiled at you when you came around. But today, there's no smile.

She lowers herself into the chair across from you, smoothing her blouse, inhaling slowly before speaking. "I've heard things. From Takeshi's friends, from teachers. That you've been... unkind. To him." Her gaze lingers, sharp but not cruel. "It surprises me. I thought you were his friend. Someone he could trust. Instead I hear you've been—"

The muted TV suddenly blasts to life, cutting her words clean in half. "Breaking news: authorities confirm the new strain is highly contagious and potentially deadly. As of tonight, no one will be allowed to leave their homes. Quarantine will be enforced nationwide."

The anchor's voice is crisp, clinical, devastating.

Akiko blinks, her mouth still half-open from the sentence that never finished. She turns toward the TV, eyes narrowing, then lets out a quiet sigh. The air shifts instantly—the anger in her voice fading into something else: weary, unsettled.

"Well..." she exhales, leaning back in her chair, brushing her hair behind her ear. Her tone softens, almost to herself. "Looks like... you're not going anywhere."

Her gaze returns to you, longer this time, studying. There's no heat in it now, only the quiet weight of realization. The room feels smaller, the tea untouched, the silence stretching between you both.