Makoto Yuki

ACT 1: FAMILY

Chapter 1: "The Old Man's Chair"

At 22, wandering around life without a destination in mind whatsoever, Makoto Yuki bounced around between freelance music and tutoring highschool students to keep food on the table after graduating not too long ago. After moving out of his grandparents house and renting an apartment in Tokyo, far far away from Kanto - his small old city that he was familiar with, unsure if it was the right decision since he's been there his whole life. But then that fateful morning came, his father delivered something much more heavier than his situation, something more real.

His grandfather is meeting his end soon.

As he sat in the waiting room of the hospital, surrounded by family members who he has always been distant with. His mother, trembling with her hands clasp together, staring anxiously towards the ER. His aunt and uncle whispered trying to keep each other calm, while their weary expressions show otherwise. The air grows heavy with a stale stench, reminding Makoto that this is where all of it ends.

Makoto too was anxious, not because of the soon to happen turn of event but because of his feelings. He didn't know how to feel about it. His grandfather who had never been there in his life - more of a person that's just there, a background figure one would say than a genuine connection. While his family spoke about him with nostalgia, recalling what he would say in the past or telling old stories from their childhood. His memories of the old man were just bitter or unremarkable. A quiet figure on his armchair. All he knew to do was, a comment about the news, a nod at the incoming family member. No real conversations. No real bonds.

His phone suddenly buzzed to break the tension as he thought to himself, and he pulled it out guessing what the screen would say. 

Dad. 

He exhaled, answering the phone. "Hey" was all he muttered.

"He's gone, son". His father's voice was steady but the weight of the words were unreal to him. 

Makoto swallowed. There it was as he expected. Weirdly enough there was no wave of grief to hit him. No sudden rush of emotion. Just a quiet, hollow feeling as if hearing about the death of a person that he barely knew.

"Okay". He settled. "I'll be there soon".

When he hung up, the room had already gone silent. His mother anticipating, as if she's waiting for a reaction - something more like an outburst, some shift of expression that he just couldn't force himself to make.

"Are you doing okay honey?"

"Yeah, Mom" Makoto said quickly, forcing a nod and a small frown. "I'm just… processing."

Her gaze lingered, reading him the way a mother could. Somehow Makoto knew his mom knew and could sense his detachment, but she didn't push. Instead, she reached out and squeezed his arm. "There's no right and wrong way to feel Makoto. You don't have to force yourself honey."

"I know, I'm sorry…" he murmured. Feeling ashamed of himself even if his mother said so.

Everyone else was grieving, His aunt wiping her tears, his uncle letting out a deep defeated breath. His mother turned the other way, putting a hand to her mouth. Still, there was nothing for him. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

At the house

The house felt different without his grandfather. As the silence stretched heavy and unfamiliar. Everyone's just waiting for somebody to take charge and break the silence.

His aunt and uncle sat on the couch, continuing their whispers from before His mother standing by the window, arms crossed, staring out at nothing. No chaos, no dramatic, no outburst - just a quiet, shared understanding that something - someone was missing. 

Makoto stood in the doorway pondering to himself, unsure where to place himself. Although he spent all his life in this house, it didn't hold much meaning for him. Then his eyes finally landed on the chair.

His grandfather's chair, the chair, the one he sat in for as long as Makoto could remember. It was just a piece of furniture, an old, worn thing tucked in the corner of the room that only his grandfather would sit in. But somehow, someway it felt like the most present thing in the house right now.

For years, that chair had just been a background furniture, much like the owner. Makoto couldn't remember a time when he talked to him from that chair - not really. Just quiet nods, occasional muttering about random things he saw online. No warmth. Nothing that really mattered.

And now it was empty.

His aunt approached him, offering a tired smile. "I'm sorry, you must hurt more than most of us, Makoto." She pulled him into a brief hug and he awkwardly returned it.

"Yeah" he muttered. "Just…. strange being here I guess."

She nodded then glanced towards the chair. "It doesn't feel right without him, does it?"

Makoto hesitated. To him it doesn't feel different, either.

But how could he say that?

Instead, he shifted on his feet, staring at the empty space on the chair. He wasn't mourning the man himself. But the absence of something that always existed, even in the background, felt… strange.

Was it grief? Or just recognizing that something had always been distant, finally disappearing for good?

Makoto wasn't sure. Maybe he wouldn't for a long time.

Maybe not ever.

ACT 2: CAREER

Chapter 1: "A Lesson in Control"

At first, Makoto thought the exhaustion would go away. Just more time he thought - to adjust, to find his rhythm, to figure how to make freelancing actually work.

But as the weeks went past - into months, the feeling never left him. 

Every morning, waking up with the same weight pressing down onto his chess. Late nights spent composing, chasing down payments, dealing with clients who wanted more or less. Not only that, his tutoring sessions - his side gig left him drained, some students showed up unprepared, while others were barely interested. His main gigs? Half-empty bars where no one listened, his music faded into the background noise against clicking glasses and quiet conversations.

He told himself it was just a time issue, a growing pain that just needed a strong push through.

But as the weeks stretched, his optimism wore thin on him.

October

A Wednesday night. Another gig at another bar.

Makoto sat on the small stage, fingers gliding over his guitar strings. His simple - soft, therapeutic, the kind of music that could settle the air without demanding attention. Though, as always, no one was listening.

A couple at the bar whispered to each other. A group of friends near the back laughed and cheered over their drinks. The bartender gave him occasional nods, the only real acknowledgement to his presence.

When his session expired, a polite applause followed soon after. 'That's it?' As he thought to himself while packing up in silence, the familiar doubt creeped in.

Outside, the cold air bit at his skin. He checked his phone much less to his surprise - no new messages. The new indie film project he was hoping for? No response.

He exhaled, slinging his dear guitar over his shoulder. 

"Hey, man!" a voice called out to him. He turned to see the bartender stepping out, lighting a cigarette. "Good set my man".

"Thanks," was all Makoto could muttered

"You're trying to do this full-time?"

Makoto hesitated. "Is it that obvious?"

The bartender smirked, "Tough life, huh?"

Makoto didn't answer. He didn't need to.

November

The tutoring session wasn't going well.

Makoto sat across from his student, a high schooler named Ren, who was slouching in his chair, eyes on his phone instead of the music sheet he should be looking at.

"Hey, let's try this again" lightly pressing on the piano keys, Makoto expressed his annoyance. 

Ren sighed dramatically, "This is booooring".

Makoto clenched his jaws. "You wanted to learn the piano."

"Yeah, but like… cool songs like Color your night or Full Moon, Full Life. Not these lame scales and theory."

Makoto exhaled, forcing patience into his voice. "In order to that, you need to know the basics."

Ren groaned but placed his hands on the keys again. The notes came out uneven and choppy. When he messed up, he slumped back once again and begin to complain. "Man, I suck at this."

"You don't." Makoto "You just need practice."

Ren frowned and pondered. "Did you ever want to quit?"

The question really caught him off guard, especially in his current turn of events. He hesitated, fingers drumming against his knee. "Yeah. A lot."

The answer made Ren sit up slightly. "Then why didn't you?"

He didn't have an answer.

December

An email came late at night. Another client refused to pay in full. 

'Hey Makoto, we loved the track, but we're running over budget. Would you be okay with half now and the rest in exposure'?

Exposure. Again.

He clenched his hands into fists. He had spent hours on that track. Weeks of refining it. And now they want to pay him in promises?

He scowled and typed out a response, cold and to the point. 

'No, The agreed-upon amount, or I revoke the rights to use it."

Minutes passed. Then finally a response

'Sorry to hear that. We'll find someone else'

A sharp breath was all Makoto could let out, staring at the rejection like it was something cutting.

All that work. For absolutely nothing.

January

Makoto sat in his apartment, hands in his hair, staring at the numbers on his phone screen.

Rent is due soon. The tutoring money helped, but it wasn't enough. The bar gigs covered his groceries. The film project - his so-called big break- hadn't responded in weeks.

His mind drifted back to the time when things were still simple, to college, to the professors who had warned them about this life. "Most of you won't make it full-time. Be prepared for that."

He had brushed it off then. He believed in his talent, his dedication, his dreams. But now? Now he wasn't so sure anymore.

His phone buzzed. A message from his old friend, the one who was working on the indie film.

'Hey sorry for the delay. We still want you in. Can we talk tomorrow?'

Makoto blankly stared at the message, but his heart was pounding.

This was it. His chance. His way to move forward.

But instead of excitement, all he felt was… exhaustion?

Was he really ready for all of this?

Or was he setting himself up for another failure?

He closed his eyes, rubbing his temples.

Tomorrow. He'd deal with it tomorrow.

Chapter 3: The Gig That Breaks You

Makoto didn't know when music started to feel like such a drag, a chore to do.

He used to think about it every moment-melodies forming in the back of fingers just itching to strum. Now, it felt like something he had to force himself to do, dragging every damn note, chord, bar to prove his presence

The Indie film project should have been it. It was the kind of work he dreamt of- a chance to make something that truly mattered. But much to his surprise, the director was one of those types. The ones who didn't know what they wanted until they heard something they didn't want. He couldn't say anything brash since it was his old university friend.

"Uhhh… Can we make a bit… sadder?" they'd say. Or, "Nice! I love it, but… let's try a completely different direction this time."

And the pay? "In processing." Of course.

So another bar gig he took.

A bigger bar this time.

Maybe this one will be different, he hoped.

Makoto played his set, fingers moving on autopilot. Soft chords. Mesmerizing melodies. The kind of music that should make people stop and listen.

No one did though. 

They were too busy either talking, drinking, and scrolling through their phones. Their laughter drowned out his sounds.

He finished the last song.

A few claps. That's it, nothing more.

He exhaled, dipped his head for a moment then started to pack.

"Hey," a voice said.

Looking up Makoto saw a man standing by the bar, guitar case slung over his shoulder. Is he in his late 30s? Maybe older.

"You're good," the man said. "Really takes me back to when I thought this kind of thing would work out."

Makoto paused, tightening his grip on his case. "You quit?"

The man let out a small chuckle. "My hands were tied, didn't have a choice back then. You'll see soon."

Just like that he walked off.

Makoto watched him go, letting the statement sink in.

Then he walked off.

The city air was colder than usual.

And for the first time, he wondered if he really would "see".

Or if he already was.

Chapter 4: The Decision That Wasn't One

Money was running out.

Rent was due next week. His tutoring gigs barely covered it. The film project had finally paid him, but after bills and groceries, there was almost nothing left.

He sat at his desk, scrolling through job postings.

One caught his eye- music related, at least. A studio assistant position. Low pay, long hours, but guaranteed income.

Makoto hovered over the apply button.

Then his inbox suddenly pinged.

A new freelance offer. Small project by the same director. Low budget, but it was music though.

His hand rested on the mouse.

A month ago, this would've been easy. He would've jumped at the freelance gig, chosen the struggle, because he believed that it would work out if he put in the effort.

But now?

He didn't know anymore.

Makoto leaned back.

Waiting. For something . Nothing.

And maybe that was the answer.

Chapter 5: The Weight of the Unplayed Note

The laptop screen, a cold and cynical blue. The application stated back, a promising stability, a contrast to the chaotic thoughts in his mind. He closed it, the sudden darkness mirroring the void in himself.

Makoto drifted to the window, looking out at the city lights below. Tokyo, once a place to disappear, now it just feels like a cage. Each neon pulse as a reminder of his isolation.

His student words, a haunting thought came to him. "Did you ever want to quit?".

He approached his guitar case, the worn leather cool against his fingertips. He opened it, the scent of aged wood and metal, a bittersweet nostalgia…

He sat on the edge of his bed, fingers tracing through the strings. He tried to play, to be in sync with the melody, but the notes felt… wrong. Off. Hollow. He couldn't do it, couldn't feel the spark that once ignited his passion and soul.

He set it down, a wave of defeat washing over him, heavy and suffocating. Is this it? He wondered. Is this the end of my song? A quiet fade into life with muted tones and predictable rhythms?

Once again, the words of the man at the bar, a chilling prophecy, "You'll see soon". Had Makoto already seen? Had he reached the point of no return?

He rose, pacing around his apartment, a restless spirit trapped in a confined space. The weight of choices, the suffocating pressure of a path he wasn't sure he wanted to walk. 

.Even so, a decision has to be made.

He reached for his phone, his fingers hovering over his university friend;s name. He hesitated, then pressed the call button.

"Hey man… it's Makoto," he said with a low, somber tone. "About the film… ww- we need to talk."

"Yeah sure, man," his friend replied, a hint of concern in his voice. "What's up?"

"I… I can't do it," Makoto said, the words heavy with resignation fading into the silence. "Not like this. I'm… I'm burnt out. I can't give you what you need."

A long pause, heavy with unspoken understanding between the two. "Makoto… are you sure? We REALLY wanted you for this."

"Yeah…" he whispered, his voice barely audible. I'm sure."

He hung up, A weird mix of relief and despair, a bittersweet acceptance of defeat.

Picking back up his guitar, he began to play. Not a melody nor a song, but a raw series of disjointed notes, a reflection of his fractured spirit.

He played until his fingers ached, until the silence was filled. He played until the weight of the unplayed note- the unspoken emotion began to lift, ever so slightly.

He stopped, catching his breath, his body trembling. As Makoto gazes at his guitar, once a source of passion, now a symbol of his struggle.

He didn't know what the future held, shrouded in uncertainty. Despite that, he knew he couldn't stay this way, to be trapped in this cycle of doubt.

Placing his guitar back in its case, the click of the claps broke the silence in the room. He walked back to his desk, opened his laptop and closed the job application.

Although he was lost, Makoto knew he wouldn't surrender. Not yet.

The city lights, once a symbol of isolation, now flickered with a faint glimmer of hope. The silence, no longer oppressive, became a space for reflection, for healing, for a fresh start.

Act 3: Connections

Chapter 1: The Accidental Melody

Lost. Makoto found himself in a dimly lit bar near his place, the music there was low and the conversation was even lower. 

The mood fits his emotion so he found himself here a lot more often as he should be. A place for him to disappear, a place to comfort his isolation.

One night, as he sat sipping away at a lukewarm coffee, the quiet was broken by a clear and familiar voice. "Dude, you're here again?" a voice said.

He looked up, his eyes meeting the warm and perceptive gaze of the bartender. "It's good for your business no?" Makoto replied, his voice low.

 "I didn't think you were one of those sarcastic customers." The bartender was amused. "Hey I've seen you play before. You've got something real in your music. It's not rock but it's… heavy, like you're carrying the weight of the world."

"Thanks." unfazed as he continued to sip his drink

"You don't seem really convinced," the bartender added, "Hey tell you what, I'm off soon. Do you want some Ramen? My treat of course. It's a late-night tradition around here and plus you really look like you need it."

Surprised by the unexpected invitation , found himself nodding.

"Fwoo time to dig in!," as steam from the ramen bowls flowed, somehow he ended up in a late-night ramen stand. The bartender spoke about his aspirations to open a small music venue, a place where artists could connect and share their stories. "Yeah it seems like a hopeless dream, I know." he said, slurping his ramen, "but someone's gotta keep the music alive, you know?" He paused, an idea seemed to come to mind. "You know, even though you're around here a lot, and I feel like I'm talking to a ghost. The name's Kaito, you?"

Makoto was taken back by the directness, but offered a small smile "Makoto."

"Makoto," Kaito repeated, nodding away, "Fits you. Sincerity, real just like your music."

They continue to talk, Kaito sharing stories about the bar's regulars and Makoto opening up about his struggles with finding his place in the world. He spoke about his grandfather, his student question and his own emotional detachment.

"You know," after a long pause Kaito advised "you don't have to carry that weight alone. Music, life… it's not always a solo act. It's about finding your rhythm with others, connecting, letting people in and seeing the real you."

Makoto stared at him with disbelief because of the sudden sincerity in his voice. "I… I don't know how to do that."

"Isn't it simple? Learn how." Kaito said, a gentle smile reached Makoto's cold heart. "Start with a basic one, a shared note, a conversation."

Chapter 2: The Shared Note

The bar became a cozy place where Ash could find a connection to somebody, a temporal place to not think about his isolation. 

One evening, as he was nursing like usual, lost in thoughts composing his next piece. A sharp familiar voice cut through the air breaking the train of thoughts. "Makoto Yuki, huh?"

He turned, his eyes meeting the sharp and intelligent gaze of a woman who he noticed was a regular at the bar. "You always sound like you're about to write a funeral dirge," she continued, a wry smile playing on her lips. "Is it your signature style, or just your mood?"

"It's just… how I play." Makoto exclaimed, devoid of emotion having his guard up.

"Or how you feel?" She countered.

Makoto exhaled, glancing away not in the mood for another deep dive into his own story, the woman perceptive as always, she shrugged leaning back in her chair.

"Hey I'm sorry if I offended you by any chance, you just seem like you've got that locked room vibe- like there's a whole world in there you're hiding" she said "I have a knack for these things, but not everything needs to be explained."

He tensed slightly. "It's alright but there's not much to see."

She tilted her head and laughed "Well, I guess being mysterious makes you, you too."

Later, as he and Kaito talked about music as part of their routine, she joined in. Her sharp wit and confidence brought an energy similar to Kaito's but balancing out Makoto's quiet demeanor. They found themselves debating about art, music, and connection, her passion for creativity clashing with Makoto's restrained take.

"Hey music is about sharing something real, but as in connecting with others, being with one another." she argued, her hands moving as she spoke.

"It's also about expressing what simple words can't," Makoto countered, keeping his voice even.

She nodded, respecting his ideals but can't seem to agree with him. "Sure. But if you keep it locked inside all the time, who's it really for?"

Makoto pondered for a bit, thinking how valid her claim is as a smile crawled onto his lips. It's been a while since he had spoken to anyone about this besides Kaito.

As the night went on, the conversation turned into something lighter. She leaned back, eyeing both Makoto and Kaito in amusement. "Say, I've been coming here since forever so I know Kaito.. And I know you, Makoto from the bars I've attended when I was looking for inspiration, But you don't know mine."

"I'm Rin" She offered her cheeky smile.

Chapter 3: Shared Creative Space

After several nights of shared ramen and late-night conversations, Makoto eventually warmed up to the duo. The bar developed into a comfortable shared space between the trio. One evening, Kaito, the dreamer, proposed an idea. "Guys, I want your opinion on this, I want to make a night for local artists, a showcase. A night so small indie artists can show the world what they're made of. A real music event."

Rin's eyes lit up. "That sounds amazing Kaito! We could feature musicians, poets or even some visual artists like me!"

Makoto, initially hesitant, but drawn into their enthusiasm. "We could", he murmured, tracing his guitar strings. "Yeah, we could make it special."

The group began to plan, ideas being thrown around one by one. Rin, with her sharp organizational skills, took charge of the logistics, creating a schedule and reaching out to potential performers that she knew. Kaito, with his infectious enthusiasm, spread the word around the area, stirring excitement in and even out of the local community. Finally, Makoto with his music talent and determination, began to compose an exclusive piece for the event, a melody that reflected what they were feeling instead of a reflection of his vision.

After hours that into days spending time in the bar, transforming it from a humble cozy bar to a bustling creative hub. Rin created posters, adding her artistic touch to make the space livelier. Kaito made sure the furniture would fit the place, transforming the unused space to a stage. Makoto tirelessly worked on his music, his tunes filling the bar with a sense of thrill.

Despite their differences and background, they worked together as a coordinated team. Their personalities intertwined, complementing one another. Makoto, who normally would stay cold and distant, found himself opening up sharing his ideas. 

On one particular evening, as they were setting up the stage. Rin turned to Makoto who was tuning his guitar, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Say… I said it before but I don't think I made it clear. You have a way of expressing emotions through music that's… powerful. You're pretty talented, aren't ya."

Makoto blushed, his eyes meeting hers. "You sound surprised."

"Well yeah, I knew you were good from before, but watching you putting so much of yourself into your songs…" Her voice softened. "It's sweet."

Makoto looked away, focusing on the strings. "It's just music."

Rin scoffed. "Right. And I suppose you breathe air too huh?"

Kaito walked in while grinning before Makoto could get a word in. "You two flirting or can I join in the fun?"

Makoto groaned, shoving his shoulder as Rin laughed.

Eventually, the long awaited night came. The bar buzzed with life, Rin doing her part, greeting guests with her sharp wits, Kaito playing host, introducing acts enthusiastically so impossible to ignore. It was his dream after all. 

Makoto standing backstage witnessing it all, the weight on his shoulders, pressing into his ribs.

He wasn't sure why, he played at bars before so what's bothering his nerves? But as he stepped on stage and met Rin's eyes in the crowd, she gave him a reassuring thumb ups, one that tells him,  I see you, I hear you.

And so, he played. Raw and unfiltered, his music pouring out. For the first time in a long while, he wasn't playing for himself.

As the last note faded, expecting the usual silence. Makoto was surprised by the erupt of applause, catching Rin smiling from afar.

Maybe, just maybe, this was what connection felt like.

Chapter 4: Cracks in the Harmony

The success of the artist showcase to him felt like a turning point, a rare moment where everything worked in his favour. But even after all the applause, he couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling in his chest.

The bar returned to its usual quiet self as he was packing up his guitar, a man approached him. Deja vu? He was older than he was, sharp-eyed, and looked really professional with his suit.

"You've got something special kid, the way you play- it's raw, honest. I like that."

Makoto blinked, unsure how to respond this time. Is he going to say the same thing as the last guy? 

The man handed him a business card. "I work with a music program in New York. We bring in young and talented artists, help them refine their craft, connect with other artists. I think you'd fit right in."

Makoto stared in disbelief. "For real? What's the catch?"

"I'm dead serious, you could look us up. It's a one-month program, all expenses covered. The only thing we ask of you is to perform one song at our event in order to promote our brand. Think about it, you know how to reach me." the man said as he make his exit.

Excitement, fear, and doubt were all the emotions he felt. This was huge- no the biggest opportunity he'd ever gotten in his career. But then he thought, how was he suppose to tell Rin and Kaito? He finally found a place where he belongs, but now he's leaving?

The next night, he sat at the bar, running his fingers over the rim of his empty glass. Rin and Kaito were still riding the high of the showcase, endlessly discussing what comes next in the future. It was always like this for him, when something is going right there's always something to steer it off track. He felt like retreating.

Rin noticed it first

"You're pulling away, like when we first met." she said with a calm voice.

Makoto exhaled while rubbing his temples. "It's nothing, Rin."

"Liar". Rin leaned in slightly, studying his thoughts. "What's going on?"

He hesitated, but couldn't hide it from her so he muttered, "I have to go to America for a month".

Rin blinked. "Wait - what?"

"I got an opportunity. A guy in a suit invited me from the showcase and invited me to a music program in New York."

Kaito, who had been listening quietly, frowned. "So you're leaving?"

"It's a big deal, but I didn't know how or when to bring it up. Besides, it's only for a month."

"Yeah, but you didn't tell us or did you think we wouldn't care if you left?" Rin exclaimed with a sharp voice.

"It's not like that."

"Then what is it like then? Because from what I'm hearing, it looks like you're walking away again." She pressed.

He wanted to argue, to explain that it wasn't like last time, he actually cares about them - but their faces told him they didn't believe that.

So he left.

 "I need some air." he muttered, pushing away from the table.

Rin didn't stop him, she sat and watched as he walked out of the door, her expression unreadable.

Makoto wandered the streets for hours, he felt both frustrated and doubtful. When he finally returned home, out of habit sat with his guitar in the dark, fingers going over the strings without any purpose. He thought of Rin's frustration with him, Kaito's concern, and how the way everything keeps falling apart. 

His phone buzzed. A message from Kaito.

"Talk to her".

He hesitated, but for once he wanted to try.

Chapter 5: Melodies of Reconciliation

The next day, Makoto found himself standing outside of the bar, his heart literally about to burst from pounding so much. He stepped inside, spotting Rin at their usual table. She looked up, arms crossed, her expression guarded.

He sat down across from her. After a moment of silence, they turned to one another."

"I'm sorr- I'm not leaving." The two interrupted each other.

"Huh? But you're literally getting on a plane."

"Only for a month, and then I'm coming here right when I land."

Rin shook her head. "Look, you don't get it do you? I'm sorry for blowing up yesterday but it's not about the trip- it's about how you keep us at arm's length. How you never let people in until it's too late."

Makoto hung his head low. "I was scared".

"Of what?" she questioned.

"That if I told you, you'd think I was abandoning you or I was running away again. But it happened anyway."

Rin studied him for a long moment. Then, she finally exhaled. "Next time, please tell me. Tell us."

"I promise I will, I don't want to lose this."

Her eyes met his, "Me neither, so don't okay?"

They sat in quiet understanding, the weight slowly easing.

After they depart, Makoto arrived home and to his usual habits, picked up his guitar. The melody followed was something different - still raw, but carrying something new. Something hopeful.

He finally learned how to really play for others.

Act 4: Convergence

The night before Makoto's flight to New York was like any other. But the usual lively atmosphere with music and chatter was dimmed. It was a send off- a quiet acknowledgement they'd forged together. Rin organized a small gathering as they sat around their spots. Kaito for once, was unusually silent, his gaze fixed on the half empty cup of coffee before him.

"It's obvious but," Rin began, her voice soft breaking the silence, "you better come back the same, if I find you ghosting us you won't be hearing the end of it."

Makoto nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I will Rin, I promised, didn't I."

"And don't forget to bring souvenirs back," Kaito grinned. "This place… thanks to you two, no, thanks to everyone's efforts it became what I always dreamt of. It feels real."

"You're right and yes I will be bringing back souvenirs from overseas." Makoto added

Unconsciously reaching his hand under the table to meet Rin's. "You both have changed so much for me in such a short span of time. You showed me what it means to connect." The moment lingered, heavy with unspoken words. 

They built something special together. But life, as it often did, was pulling them into different directions. 

"It's just a month guys, it'll fly by." He reminded them

"Yeah but it won't be the same, I'll miss you." Rin said as she whispered the last part.

They fell into a comfortable silence, Makoto picked up his guitar and played a soft melody, a blend of beauty and hope. A song that spoke of their shared moments and unspoken promises. As the last note faded, they rose, saying their goodbyes. A hug, a brief touch of hands and silent promises to stay in touch. 

Makoto stepped out into the cool night air, the city lights blurring his eyes filled with tears. He turned to see the glowing bar in the darkness, his second home. It was more of a pause than a goodbye, he knew that he'd return to the melodies of connection that was forged and resonate forever within him.