Kaede's final, wounded accusation hangs in the air. For a moment, the three remaining women and Ayumu are locked in a silent tableau of mutual hatred and despair.
Then, Kanako does something unexpected. She laughs. It's a horrible, broken sound, like shards of glass grinding together. It's a laugh devoid of any humor, filled only with pain and a terrifying, final clarity.
"You know what?" she says, her voice suddenly calm, unnervingly so. She looks at her mother, at Nao, her gaze sweeping over the ruin of their family. "You're right. We are disgusting."
She turns and walks towards the door, her steps sure and steady. There's no more screaming, no more crying. There's only a cold, decisive purpose.
"Kanako, where are you going?" Kaede asks, her voice trembling, a note of pleading entering it.
"Away. Away from this... this tomb," Kanako says without looking back. She snatches her jacket and keys from the bowl by the door, the same ones she'd been fumbling for earlier. She pauses, her hand on the doorknob, and looks over her shoulder one last time. Her eyes are no longer filled with rage, only a vast, empty sorrow.
He was the only good thing in this house," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "And you all killed him."
She doesn't slam the door. She pulls it shut behind her with a quiet, definitive click. The gentleness of the sound is more final, more devastating than any slam could ever be. It's the sound of a door closing forever.
The silence that follows is absolute. It's the silence of a void. Kaede stares at the door, a single, choked whimper escaping her lips. She's lost her son, and in the space of five minutes, she's lost her daughter too.
Nao looks from the door to Kaede, her face pale. She's truly trapped now. The house no longer feels like a refuge from Kokujin; it feels like a cage with two other prisoners who hate her guts. She looks like a cornered animal, her eyes darting around for an escape route that no longer exists.
And Ayumu, sitting on the floor, finally lets out the grief she's been holding back. But she doesn't scream or wail. Silent, agonizing tears stream down her face as she hugs her knees to her chest. She's the only one left who seems to be mourning Hiroki, the real Hiroki, and she is utterly, completely alone in her grief. The family is not just broken; it has been atomized.
The oppressive silence in the Mori household is a living entity. It presses down, heavy and suffocating. Kaede stands frozen, staring at the door her daughter just walked out of, her mind struggling to process the magnitude of her loss. Ayumu remains a small, huddled figure on the floor, lost in a world of silent tears.
This is the moment Nao chooses to act.
While the two remaining occupants of the house are trapped in their respective states of shock and grief, Nao sees her chance. She doesn't think about Hiroki. She doesn't think about Kanako's accusations or Kaede's hatred. All she thinks about is survival. This house is a tomb, and she is buried alive in it. She has to get out.
Moving with a quiet, practiced caution that speaks volumes about her character, Nao slides off the couch. She doesn't make a sound. Her eyes dart between Kaede and Ayumu, who haven't noticed her. She creeps towards the genkan, her stockinged feet padding silently on the wooden floor. She slips on her brown shoes, her hands trembling so badly she can barely tie the laces.
Her school bag is by the door. She doesn't bother with it. She just grabs her small purse, slinging it over her shoulder. She takes one last look at the scene in the living room—the broken mother, the grieving friend—and feels nothing but a surge of relief. She is a parasite, and the host is dead. It's time to find a new one
Her hand closes around the doorknob. She turns it with agonizing slowness, wincing at the faint click of the latch. She opens the door just wide enough to slip through, the cool night air a welcome reprieve from the stale air of grief inside. She pulls it shut behind her, not with a definitive click like Kanako, but with a whisper of sound, barely audible.
And then she's gone, running into the Tokyo night without looking back.
It takes Kaede a full five minutes to even notice her absence. It's Ayumu who finally looks up, her red-rimmed eyes scanning the room. Her brow furrows in confusion.
"Kaede-san...?" she asks, her voice a hoarse whisper. "Where... where did Nao go?"
Kaede slowly turns, her eyes vacant. She looks at the couch, then at the empty space by the door. Nao's shoes, which had been kicked off haphazardly earlier, are gone. Understanding dawns, slow and crushing. She wasn't just abandoned by her daughter. She was abandoned by the girl who was supposed to become her daughter-in-law. They all left. They all chose to run rather than face the wreckage with her.
A sound escapes Kaede's lips, a terrible, hollow gasp. She stumbles backwards, her hand flying to her mouth as she looks around the living room, now vast and empty. Her son is dead. Her daughter is gone. Her son's girlfriend has vanished. All that's left is her, and a girl she barely knows, sitting on the floor of a house that is no longer a home.