My Ice-King : Hanamitchi

Yuri pulled up gently in front of Y/N's house, the soft hum of the engine coming to a stop. He stepped out and swiftly rounded the car, opening the door for her.

Y/N stepped out slowly, her eyes meeting his with a soft, lingering gaze.

They stood there for a moment, close, neither wanting the day to end.

Yuri pulled her into a warm hug, holding her tight as if trying to memorize the feeling.

"I'll be missing you, Yuri…" she whispered against his chest, her voice barely above a breath.

He closed his eyes, holding her just a little tighter.

"…I'll miss you more than you know," he murmured back.

Yuri gently pulled back from the hug, just enough to see her face. With a tender smile, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"I will be waiting for you… no matter what," he said, his voice steady but full of emotion.

Y/N lowered her gaze, blinking rapidly—but a single tear slipped down her cheek, unnoticed by him.

She forced a small smile, voice trembling yet hopeful.

"I won't say bye… 'cause I'll be meeting you again."

Yuri nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, holding onto that promise in silence.

It had been a week.

A whole seven days since Yuri last saw her—standing at the edge of her driveway, her smile bright enough to burn into his memory.

"Drive safe, babe," she had said, waving at him with that soft warmth in her eyes that made everything feel right.

He could still hear her voice echo in his mind, still see the curve of her smile when he closed his eyes.

But now, silence lingered in every corner of his days.

No messages.

No calls.

Just that final image of her smiling… and a heart slowly filling with questions.

Without even realizing it, Yuri had driven to her house.

The engine idled as he stared blankly ahead, the familiar front door just a few feet away. Her house—quiet, unchanged—yet it felt painfully distant.

He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. His chest ached with the weight of everything unsaid, everything unknown.

"How can I stay like this…" he murmured, voice low and cracked. "It feels like forever…"

Damn it.

With a sharp breath, he slammed his hand against the steering wheel, the hollow thud echoing in the car.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against it, eyes shut.

"I miss you… so damn much."

Weeks turned into months.

Still, no word from Y/N. No calls. No texts. Just silence.

Yuri told himself she was okay—he knew she was strong. Knew she had to focus on her work, on learning how to stand on her own.

But that didn't make it any easier.

The thought of someone else being there for her—seeing her smile, watching her grow, maybe even comforting her when she felt tired or lost—clawed at his heart.

That should be me, he thought. I should be the one taking care of her.

Yet, deep down, he understood.

She wasn't pushing him away. She was just learning how to live without needing someone else to hold her hand.

And as much as it hurt… he respected that.

Still, that didn't stop him from missing her every single day.

Mr. Hanamitchi watched his son closely, the shift in Yuri's demeanor too obvious to ignore.

The once lively, sharp-eyed boy now moved like a ghost—efficient at work, yes, but hollow. Quiet. Distant.

He tried distracting him, giving him more responsibility at the company, piling on tasks that would've overwhelmed anyone else. But Yuri handled it all with a mechanical grace—no complaints, no breaks. Just… routine.

And still, at the end of each day, the result was the same.

No appetite.

No conversation.

Coming home late, sometimes not at all.

When he did, his room stayed dark. No music, no light, no sign of life.

And before the sun even rose, he was gone again.

Mr. Hanamitchi stood at the hallway some nights, staring at that closed door with the light seeping under it completely absent. He sighed quietly, his hand resting on his cane.

"It's her, isn't it, Y/N…" he muttered to himself. "You really got deep into my son's heart."

He didn't know what the boy was waiting for.

But he could see—

Yuri wasn't just missing someone.

He was aching.

2 years later

That's how long it had been since Y/N vanished from Yuri's world—no messages, no goodbyes, no trace.

And every single day since, Mr. Hanamitchi watched his son drift further from the life he once had.

Mr. Hanamitchi's POV

The sound of heavy boots echoed down the stairs—firm, distant, like they carried a weight far beyond their size.

I looked up from my paper just as Yuri appeared at the bottom step, keys dangling loosely in his hand. His face was unreadable, eyes sunken from sleepless nights he refused to talk about.

"Yuri."

He paused, looked at me, silent as always.

I stared at him for a moment, seeing not just my son—but a man lost in time, stuck in a memory.

"You have a work," I said firmly, testing him.

He held my gaze for a second longer. Not angry. Not defiant. Just… tired.

Then he nodded slightly, emotionless. "I know."

I watched him turn toward the door again.

Still no spark.

Still no light.

Just a ghost of the boy I raised.

Y/N is time for you to come back, you need to come back soon.

Because my son is fading.

Yuri's POV

I don't even know what I'm doing anymore.

Wake up. Work. Go home—if I even bother.

Repeat.

It's all noise now. Everything.

Faces, deadlines, conversations—they just blur.

It was supposed to be a little time.

A few months. Maybe a year at most.

But it's been two years.

Two fucking years.

And I haven't seen her. Haven't heard her voice. Not even a damn message.

No signs.

No clue if she's okay.

No clue if she still thinks of me the way I think of her every damn night.

I kept telling myself—

"She needs to grow. She needs this space."

And yeah… she did.

But no one told me it would feel like this.

Like she took the light with her when she left.

And now all I've got are memories—

That smile…

Her laugh…

The way she said, "Drive safe, babe," like it was the last thing I'd ever hear from her.

I miss her so much it's choking me.

But she said she'd come back.

She promised.

And I'm still here.

Waiting.

Even when it hurts.

Even when it feels like I'm the only one who still remembers.

I started the engine.

The low rumble filled the silence, but it didn't drown out the ache.

Another day.

Another ride to the base.

Another 24 hours without her.

The streets pass by like shadows—unfamiliar, even though I've driven this road a thousand times.

I don't even know what I'm hoping for anymore.

Maybe that today… just maybe, I'll hear something.

A message.

A sign.

Anything.

But deep down, I know.

It's just going to be another day.

Without her laugh.

Without her voice.

Without her.

I grip the wheel tighter. My jaw clenches.

I have to endure.

That's all I can do now.

Keep going.

Keep showing up.

Keep pretending like I'm not falling apart.

Because that's what she would've wanted, right?

For me to keep standing.

Even if it's without her.

Even if it hurts like hell.

I pulled into the base, the gate sliding open like muscle memory. Same view. Same cold air. Same dull ache inside.

As I stepped out of the car, Keifer spotted me from across the lot.

"Hey, Yuri… we have a work."

I nodded, walking toward him without slowing down.

"I know. My dad already told me."

Keifer kept pace beside me as we made our way through the hallway.

"Did you know about the details?" he asked.

"Nope. What is it?" I replied, keeping my voice neutral.

He glanced at the clipboard in his hand, flipping through a few pages.

"It's an intel retrieval mission. Low-risk, off-grid. But the weird part? They want us to extract someone, too."

"Extract who?"

"Name's not clear yet. Just a code—'Subject Y.' Classified."

I furrowed my brows. Y?

"Y? Who will it be?" I muttered under my breath, more to myself than to Keifer.

I gave a dry, humorless chuckle. "Hmm. Another mission, another day, huh?"

Keifer shrugged beside me, clearly unfazed.

"Log-in time will be 9 PM tonight."

I nodded. "Alright. I'll get ready—check the equipment."

"Felix and David?" I asked, glancing around.

"They're in the tech room, checking the wires and headset calibration." Keifer replied, tapping the side of his comms. "Felix said the last batch was glitching, so they're fixing it before we move out."

I gave another small nod, eyes narrowing slightly.

Preparation. Routine. Clean entry. Clean exit.

But still—Subject Y.

That letter kept poking at my mind like a loose thread I shouldn't pull.

Coincidence… right?

But something in my chest stirred.

Maybe—just maybe—this mission wouldn't be just another day.