Chapter 11 — A Song

The bridge offered a narrow kind of shelter—enough to keep curious eyes at bay, but woefully inadequate in the face of bad weather. And tonight, as a wind picked up and ghosted down the empty street, Kyren felt the chill sink through the thin layers of his clothes and curl around his spine. He shivered, tugged his jacket tighter, and slipped his phone into his pocket with fingers that were already stiff with cold.

His "bed" for the evening was a battered strip of cardboard, barely longer than his legs. It had taken a bit of hunting to find a place that was slightly raised—high enough, he hoped, to keep the rainwater from soaking through if the skies decided to open. But the heavy clouds looming overhead did not inspire confidence.

He drew in a slow breath, trying to convince himself that maybe the drizzle would hold off. "One night," he muttered, half to himself, half to the sky. "Can't a guy catch a break on his first night in a new world?"

Still, there was a kind of fragile peace here under the bridge, just enough quiet to let his mind wander. Unconsciously, his lips parted, and he began to hum a familiar tune.

"Koko wa doko made…"

"Matte, iwanaide, wakatteru…"

"Yume ni mita, atsui shinkirō na no sa…"

His voice drifted out into the night, low and a little breathy, but not without emotion. It was Angelic Angel—a song he'd played on loop for hours on end during his obsession with LoveLive!. The melody had long since engraved itself into the rhythm of his heart, and tonight, it bubbled up as a comfort against the cold.

Above him, footsteps echoed faintly across the bridge. A girl walked briskly beneath the steel-blue sky, her bag tucked against her chest.

Why had she agreed to that extra hour?

Every weekday after class, Eli Ayase worked a short shift in secret, keeping her part-time job carefully hidden from her family. Her usual hours were tight—two, maybe two and a half, never more. But tonight the store manager looked especially desperate, so she stayed.

Now, she was paying the price for that decision.

She glanced up, eyes narrowing as she caught sight of the clouds. The forecast said no rain. That little betrayal made her scoff softly as she hugged her bag tighter and broke into a light jog.

As she reached the bridge—the same one she crossed every evening—her steps slowed. A voice. Faint, melodic, threading through the shadows beneath the concrete. A boy's voice. Singing?

"Itoshii yume wa mada owaranai…"

"Jikan wa tomerarenai to shitte…"

"Kimi to hayaku aitakatta yo…"

"Todoketai kotoba ga oto ni tokete, Call Angel…"

The voice was earnest, but something about it caught her off-guard. It wasn't bad per se, but... there was a tension in the performance, a disconnect that made her pause. The song, beautiful as it was, felt like it had been pried open and reassembled with shaky hands.

Eli knew music. She wasn't just some girl with good rhythm; she'd studied it, competed in it, performed with it. So naturally, her curiosity bloomed. What song was that? And who was singing it?

Guided by instinct and that half-familiar melody, she turned toward the stairs leading under the bridge, descending slowly toward the river's edge.

Just as she reached the bottom, the moon finally broke free of the clouds. Its silver glow spilled down like liquid light, illuminating the narrow space beneath the bridge—and the boy at the center of the song.

Him…?

She blinked. Of all people, it was Kyren.

She recognized him from school, albeit vaguely. She'd glimpsed him once—being supported, unconscious, by Kotori Minami as they made their way to the infirmary. She had even asked the student council and the director about it afterward. But what was he doing out here, alone, singing beneath a bridge?

Wasn't he supposed to be… home?

Before she could make sense of it, the first drops fell.

Drip... drip…

Rain. Sudden, quiet at first. The sky, like a fickle friend, had changed its mind again.

Eli instinctively darted under the bridge, her footsteps splashing lightly across the wet stone. Kyren looked up at the sound and flinched. His heart gave a little stutter.

No way… seriously? Her?

He had just finished singing a song centered around her character—now here she was, in the flesh. If this was the system's idea of a joke, it had a twisted sense of humor.

Quickly, Kyren stood, shifting to the side and making space. The bridge wasn't wide, and sitting where he was meant she would've been in the direct line of the drizzle. He folded up his makeshift bedding and leaned it against the wall, turning his back to her.

It wasn't cowardice. Not exactly. She didn't know him—at least, not really. And starting a conversation now, in this situation, might come off… weird.

Though truth be told, turning his back probably made him look even more suspicious.

What Kyren didn't know was that Eli did remember him. Only a little, just a glimpse—but it was enough to stir her curiosity. Still, she said nothing, unsure how to approach a near-stranger under a bridge in the middle of the night.

Time passed. A quiet, drizzly silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft hiss of rain.

Half an hour slipped by.

Eli glanced upward. The rain hadn't eased. If anything, it seemed to be settling in for the night. Running home now meant arriving drenched—and catching a cold wasn't exactly on her agenda. She sighed and stayed put.

But the way the boy kept avoiding eye contact, standing just a little too stiffly, made her suspicious. Did… did he recognize her?

Kyren wasn't exactly known for iron-clad nerves. That half hour of pretending not to notice her had taken every ounce of composure he had.

At last, he gave in.

"…Hi. I'm Kyren."

His voice cracked slightly, but it was steady enough. He glanced sideways, hopeful.

There was a pause. Then, softly:

"I'm Eli Ayase."

Ah. Good. She responded.

If she'd ignored him, he would've just pulled out his phone and pretended to play games until the rain stopped. But now, there was an opening.

Kyren had never been good at solitude. Even when he spent entire days inside, he filled the silence with online chats, silly emojis, and low-stakes banter. Just enough to feel like he wasn't alone.

And now, someone was talking to him.

Someone real.

He couldn't help but smile—small, unsure, but honest.

Maybe this world wasn't so bad after all.

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