The train station was just as crowded as it had been in the morning, but now it buzzed with a different kind of energy. Students laughed and chattered, sharing stories about their day at school. The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow across the ocean view and bathing the beachside houses in its fading light. Everything looked picture-perfect.
I leaned back against the vending machine, eyes fixed on the scenery. It felt like the only proper way to end the day, even if it had ended with an unexpected twist.
Train after train rolled into the station and left just as quickly. Eventually, the crowd thinned out, leaving only a few students from other schools behind. They gathered near the yellow safety line, snapping photos of the sunset and taking selfies with their friends, using the breathtaking view as a backdrop.
I let out a satisfied sigh.
Then, suddenly, something cold touched my cheek. I flinched, felt like I'd just been poked by Death itself.
Snapping my head to the side, I found Katsui standing there with his usual charming-yet-annoying smile, holding a cold can of soda up to my face.
"Don't be so into it, dude. It's not like you won't see this scene again."
"I know, I know. Can't help it when it just looks mesmerizing every time I see it."
I received the can and cracked it open. The sharp hiss of the soda cut through the silence, a small, welcome noise. I took a sip: the carbonation instantly filled my mouth, stinging my tongue but in a good way. The light sweetness soon came after the carbonation died down, soothing the violent arrival of the soda.
"I thought you didn't drink soda. Stopped being healthy, Katsui?" I asked after swallowing the mouthful of soda.
"Where did you hear that from? I just don't drink them as regularly as before! Depriving myself of a treat is torturous."
Katsui laughed softly. He lifted the can to his mouth and drank it. I could hear every gulp, he drank like a man dying of thirst.
"So... Shihori coming back was unexpected, huh?" Katsui asked, crushing the then-empty can and throwing it into the trash can next to the vending machine.
"Don't get me started..." I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. "She came back because the Sibelius Violin Competition is being held in Japan, coincidentally in Sagamihara. She enrolled in our school just to ask me to be her pianist in the competition."
"How shocking. Who could have guessed?" Katsui said sarcastically. "Did you agree to be hers? Doubt it, but I hope I'm wrong, hehe!"
"Quit the teasing! Of course, I declined. Too much work and I got so many things on my hands. Adding being her pianist would deprive me of any normal sleep. Plus-"
"You're average?" Katsui echoed, but the teasing tone was gone. His eyes searched mine, carrying a quiet disappointment I hadn't expected.
"Y-Yeah..." I stammered, caught off guard. Katsui rarely looked at me like that, like he actually believed in something I kept trying to bury.
"..." Katsui was quiet for a few seconds, letting out a tired sigh before speaking. "I don't know if you've noticed, but when things come that easy to you... calling yourself average just sounds like a lie."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, but the words came out slower than I meant them to.
Katsui shook his head and looked at his watch, already miles away from the topic. I wanted to press, but the train announcement cut in, and just like that, the moment passed.
[Train to Yokohama arriving in five minutes.]
It was dark out when we arrived at our station. Stepping out of the train, we could feel the night breeze coming from the ocean. It was cool, calming. I said goodbye to Katsui when we walked out of the station. He was going to his parents' restaurant to help out while I proceeded to walk home.
Katsui's expression kept echoing in my mind, louder than the noise of Yokohama itself. Cars honked, rushed past in streaks of red and white. People moved in waves, heading home, chasing deadlines, diving into neon-lit nights.
The streets pulsed with LED glow, every sign flickering like it had something urgent to say. Quite the contrast from Sagamihara, where nights fell softer, quieter.
As I walked past rows of shops and bars, the air turned into a battlefield of scents—grilled pork, soy broth, and garlic crashing into me from competing ramen stalls. Each breath made my stomach twist tighter. I bit my tongue and tried to think of anything else, anything that might distract from the hunger clawing its way up my throat.
Then I saw it: a bakery.
It looked like it didn't belong here. Amid the steel and neon, it stood out like a patch of warmth in a grayscale painting. Brown-framed windows glowed with a soft light, and the bright sign above the door looked freshly painted, still proud of being new. It had the kind of charm that made you feel like you were back in a small town, even while cars roared by just outside.
I don't remember deciding to go in. One minute, I was watching the wooden sign sway gently in the breeze, and the next, I was stepping through the door.
The scent hit me instantly: freshly baked pastries, warm and sweet, like a mother's embrace. It wrapped around me, easing the hunger that had been gnawing at my stomach since I left the station.
I walked up to the counter and scanned the menu. The place wasn't crowded, but it wasn't quiet either. A handful of patrons filled the small tables, chatting over half-eaten pastries and sipping on drinks, smiles lighting up their faces like the soft, amber bulbs hanging overhead.
"Welcome to Saka's Bakery! What can I get for you?"
The voice pulled me out of my daze. I looked up and met the eyes of the store clerk: a guy about my height, slim, with short hair tucked neatly under a green apron and a brown cap embroidered with a tiny squirrel. His black t-shirt, peeking out beneath his overalls, was dusted with what looked like flour.
"Oh, uh… What do you specialize in?" I asked, my words tripping a little as I bit my tongue.
He smiled easily. "We do a bit of everything, but donuts are our pride and joy. We've got the classics, plus a whole lineup of filled ones with all kinds of flavors. If we don't have the one you're looking for..." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice for effect, "We'll probably add it later, as long as it's legal." He chuckled at his own joke, and I couldn't help but smile back.
"Then I'll take three custard-filled, two matcha, and four pineapple-filled donuts. To go, please."
"Of course. Any drinks with your order? Our matcha lattes are quite decadent."
"Two, please."
"Alright, your total comes to ¥2,400. Cash or card?"
"Cash, please."
After paying, I took a seat on the bench neatly placed against the bakery's wall. While I waited, my eyes wandered across the shop again.
The walls were plastered with stickers of adorable animals: some hand-drawn, others glossy and cartoonish. There were photos of cats and dogs, each pictured with a different person, all smiling. The lights overhead were shaped like cupcakes, casting a soft orange glow over the entire interior. It felt like stepping into someone's childhood dream, and I was definitely out of place.
Next to the cash register sat a long display case filled with pastries and cake slices. Delicate macarons sat in neat rows, and the layered cakes looked like something straight out of a patisserie showcase. So he wasn't bluffing; they really did a bit of everything here.
"Order for Yuki-san?"
"Yes, here!"
Hearing my last name, I stood up and walked over. The clerk gave me a warm smile as he handed over the bag.
"Thanks for your patronage!" he said cheerfully.
I nodded back, muttered a quiet thanks, and stepped out of the bakery.
Like being snapped back to reality, the cozy warmth of the bakery, the scent of fresh dough, the soft light, and the quiet hum vanished the moment I stepped outside. In its place came the rush and roar of the city night. I let out a quiet sigh, already missing the stillness I'd left behind.
I glanced down at the bag in my hand. The design was simple, almost elegant: a light pink ribbon tied neatly around the box inside, and the bakery's name, Saka's Bakery, etched in gold across the soft cream-colored paper. At a glance, it looked like something from a high-end patisserie.
A small smile crept onto my face. I hadn't planned on stopping by, but yeah. Money well spent.
With that, I slipped back into the crowd and began my walk home.
--------------------
"I'm home."
I called out as I slipped off my shoes and stepped inside. From the kitchen, I could hear Mom laughing and chatting with someone. It wasn't Dad, he usually didn't get back until around nine.
Curious, I slid the kitchen door open and was immediately met with Mom's warm smile and-
"Oh, goodness! Welcome home, dear. I was just talking with Shihori-chan. Did you know she came back to Japan a few days ago?"
"Hi, Haruto~!"
Kazuki Shihori.
I'd already guessed she'd be here sooner or later, but that overly sweet tone still caught me off guard, especially after our little spat earlier. I walked over and set the bag on the dinner table, then sank into the seat across from them.
"I brought dessert for tonight..."
"How thoughtful of you, dear! Did you get this from somewhere fancy? The packaging looks phenomenal!"
Mom stood up, beaming, and leaned over to peek inside the bag. She gushed a little more before carefully lifting the box of donuts. Her eyes lit up when she saw the neatly arranged treats inside, each one perfectly shaped and delicately dusted. She untied the ribbon like it was a gift, not dessert.
Curiosity eventually got the best of Shihori-san, and she leaned over to take a peek, too.
"Quite the spread, Haruto~. I don't suppose you bought some for me as well?" she asked, even though we both knew the answer.
"I didn't know you were here, so I just bought for my family," I said with a shrug, letting the lie sit between us like bait.
"How cruel~" Shihori pouted, folding her arms and sinking into her seat like I'd betrayed her on a spiritual level.
"Oh, Haruto! Don't be like that; stop teasing her," Mom scolded gently, though she was still smiling as she made her way toward the kitchen door. "I'm going to call your dad and ask him to pick up ramen. I forgot to make dinner again, hehe..."
With an innocent giggle, she slid the door shut behind her. I could hear her on the landline seconds later, her voice turning sweet and cutesy; the kind of tone she only used when talking to Dad.
Shihori waited until the coast was clear before turning to me again. "So... did you seriously not buy me anything?"
I rolled my eyes but smiled anyway. "I did. The matcha ones are yours. And here, " I pulled the latte out from the bag and handed it to her, the cup still warm. "Yours too."
The way her face lit up could've powered the entire kitchen. She took the cup with both hands like it was some sacred treasure, stabbed the straw in, and took a long sip. Watching her now, smiling softly behind the lid, I could barely connect her to the Shihori who'd glared at me earlier in the day.
Just as I was about to say something, she spoke first.
"I'm... sorry for lashing out at you this morning, Haruto," she said, her voice lower now. "You used to never say no to anything I asked. Back when we were kids. I guess I thought... I could still be selfish with you."
"It's fine. It was a normal reaction. Don't worry about it," I said, getting up to grab a plate, along with a knife and fork.
"You know... my request still stands if you ever change your mind." Shihori sat up straighter as I returned and placed the plate in front of her.
I didn't answer. Just sat back down.
She caught the silence like a cold wind and nodded faintly, accepting it for what it was. Without another word, she pulled the box of donuts closer and gently placed a matcha one onto her plate. She began to eat, slowly and without her usual flair, as if each bite carried more weight than flavor.
The tension between us settled like fog, quiet but thick. I could've said something. Maybe I should've. But anything I said now would have needed an explanation, and that would just lead us back to where we were this morning. Another argument. Another dead end.
"Can I..." Shihori paused, swallowing her bite of donut before continuing, "At least know why you've stopped trying to be at the top?"
I didn't respond.
"I asked around, you know," she said, her voice softer now. "Everyone says you've always been holding back in everything. Even the teachers noticed. The Haruto I keep hearing about… he doesn't feel like the one I remember. Not the boy I grew up with."
She set her utensils down. Her voice wavered.
"I just want to understand. Was it because of me? Because I left that day without saying anything? Is that why? Because you felt like you didn't have anyone to try hard with anymore?"
Her voice cracked. She was pushing hard, but it wasn't out of anger. It was the kind of push that only comes from guilt and a desperate need for clarity.
"No... it wasn't," I said, eyes fixed anywhere but on her."People change, Shihori-san. Even me. Trying to be the best all the time got exhausting. So I stopped. I figured if I just stayed average, life would be easier to live. That's all. You're overthinking it."
"That's it? You're not lying to me?" Her voice trembled just enough to make my chest tighten.
"I'm not."
She let out a quiet sniffle. I could tell she was fighting not to cry, thinking all of this was her fault, that her sudden disappearance years ago had turned me into this. And the worst part? I was lying. That's why I couldn't look her in the eyes. She'd always been able to tell when I did.
She didn't press me further. Just picked up her fork and finished the rest of her donut, sniffles coming in between small bites. Still such a crybaby, even now. Even after all these years.
"Phew, that phone call took longer than expected-" Mom came back into the kitchen, pausing when she spotted Shihori-san eating while sniffling. "Haruto, did you make her cry?!"
"No, I didn't!" I raised both hands in surrender, shaking my head quickly.
"No, no, Yuki-san. The donut was just that good, it got me emotional, that's all," Shihori said, wiping her nose and saving me with a joking excuse.
Mom narrowed her eyes at me, clearly not convinced, before finally sighing and taking her seat next to Shihori-san.
"Alright, I'll trust Shihori-chan this time." She reached over, closed the donut box, and placed it on the kitchen counter. "Dad's picking up a lot of ramen, so Shihori-chan, would you like to stay for dinner? I can call your parents to ask if it's okay."
"If you don't mind me being here, then yes! I'd love to!" Shihori's whole face lit up.
The contrast between this bright, smiling Shihori-san and the emotional one from just moments ago never failed to amaze me.
"Oh! Of course, I'll give your parents a call later. By the way, dear, I would love to hear you play your violin again. It's been such a long time," Mom said as she placed a hand on Shihori-san's shoulder, her eyes sparkling with that familiar, pleading look.
"Hehe, well, I can't disappoint the audience now, can I?"
With a soft giggle, Shihori-san practically skipped out of the kitchen to grab her violin. Several minutes later, she returned, her expression glowing with anticipation as she held her Stradivarius close. Every time I saw that instrument, it felt like it was ablaze, not with fire, but with soul. The wood shimmered even under the flat LED light, its lacquer catching every hint of warmth and turning it into something radiant, like amber caught in motion.
She gave no announcement, no warning, only silence as she lifted the instrument to her shoulder. Her bow rose with a grace shaped by years of practice. Then she played.
The first note drifted out like a sigh, delicate and deliberate. It was soft and slow, not just heard, but felt, weaving its way through the air and into the quiet corners of the room. The melody swelled in waves, each one tender yet aching, vibrant yet full of quiet sorrow. Life and regret danced together in every note, as if the violin itself remembered something too beautiful to forget.
She was playing Méditation by Jules Massenet, a piece I had memorized without meaning to. My hand moved on instinct, sliding across the kitchen table, using it like a silent piano. I played along with her, even though no sound came from me. Still, the notes filled my mind, each one in perfect sync with hers. At that moment, we were playing together, two instruments, one melody, as we always used to.
My mind began to wander, questioning her choice of music. Did she pick this piece on purpose? Was she trying to say something through it? Or was I just reading too much into it? The melody continued to spill from her violin, and my hand kept moving across the table, fingers tracing silent keys in sync with her notes. We were in perfect step, just like before.
When the last note faded, I quickly pulled my hand back as if caught doing something I wasn't meant to show. Across from me, Mom slowly opened her eyes, like someone waking from a dream. The trance Shihori-san's violin had cast over the kitchen gently broke.
"That was lovely! The sound was so light and elegant — your knack for the violin never faded, dearie!" Mom clapped her hands together, showering Shihori-san with praise she clearly meant from the heart.
"Thank you so much, Yuki-san!" Shihori-san bowed, her smile sincere and radiant.
"I'm home!"
A low voice echoed from the hallway. Dad. Mom's face lit up instantly. She leapt from her seat, nearly skidding on the kitchen floor as she dashed out to greet him. Shihori-san and I couldn't help but laugh at the scene, and she gave me a gentle nudge on the shoulder.
"I saw what you were doing, Haruto~"
"Shut up..."
She laughed at my half-hearted comeback, then skipped off to the hallway to greet my dad, leaving me alone in the kitchen, red-faced and caught once again playing an invisible piano.
What I didn't realize then ,not fully, at least ,was that something inside me had quietly stirred. A spark. A tiny flicker of something I hadn't felt in a long time.