Tokyo shimmered under the neon glow of countless signs, rain soaking the streets and casting mirrored reflections on the pavement. Aoi walked briskly through the bustling crowds, her umbrella barely keeping the rain at bay. The chaos of the city surrounded her, but her mind lingered on Haruki—the boy with the haunted eyes and hands that created beauty from shadows.
She reached her apartment, a small one-bedroom tucked into a quiet corner of the city. As she set her bag down, her fingers brushed against the edge of a notebook she always carried. A hesitant smile tugged at her lips as she opened it, revealing pages filled with scribbled poems and fragmented thoughts.
She added a new entry:
"Why do some people hide their hearts in darkness?
Do they fear the light will shatter them?"
The question lingered as she stared out the window, the city lights blurring into stars. For the first time in years, Aoi felt a pull she couldn't explain—a curiosity that came with meeting someone who seemed to carry the weight of the world in his silence.
---
The next day, Haruki avoided Aoi during lunch. He buried himself in his sketchbook, sketching furiously, as if trying to drown out the world around him. But no matter how hard he tried, his mind kept drifting to her words from the day before:
"Sometimes it is, but it doesn't have to be."
What did she mean by that? And why did it bother him so much?
By the time classes ended, Haruki had convinced himself he didn't care. Yet, when he saw her standing by the school gate, her umbrella tucked under her arm, he found himself slowing down.
"Haruki," she called out, her voice cutting through the rain-soaked air.
He froze.
"Do you always walk home alone?" she asked, falling into step beside him.
He shrugged. "Yeah."
"Mind if I join you?"
Haruki wanted to say no, to tell her to leave him alone, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, he nodded, keeping his eyes on the ground as they walked.
The silence between them felt heavy, but not uncomfortable. Aoi hummed softly under her breath, a melody that sounded both familiar and foreign. Haruki risked a glance at her, surprised by how natural she looked in the rain, her smile untouched by the gloom around them.
"What's that song?" he asked before he could stop himself.
Aoi looked at him, startled, then smiled. "It's something my mom used to sing when I was little. She said it was about finding light in the darkest places."
Haruki scoffed. "Sounds unrealistic."
"Maybe," she admitted. "But sometimes, we need something to hold on to, even if it's just a song."
Her words struck a chord Haruki didn't want to acknowledge. They walked in silence for a while longer, the sound of rain filling the gaps in their conversation.
When they reached Haruki's building, he turned to her. "Why do you keep talking to me?"
Aoi tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. "Because you remind me of someone I used to know."
Before he could ask what she meant, she smiled and waved. "See you tomorrow, Haruki."
He watched her walk away, her figure fading into the rain. For the first time in years, Haruki felt something other than the gnawing emptiness that usually consumed him.
It scared him.
---
That night, Haruki couldn't sleep. He sat by his window, the city lights casting faint shadows across his room. He opened his sketchbook, staring at the unfinished drawing of Aoi. Her face stared back at him, her eyes full of a light he couldn't understand.
Without thinking, he picked up his pencil and began to draw again. This time, the shadows around her weren't as dark.
---