The next afternoon was one of those spring days that felt like summer was shyly testing the air—warm but not hot, golden sunlight slipping through clouds like fingers parting curtains. Rei waited just outside the ticket gates of the station, eyes scanning the crowd.
He'd texted Kana for the first time that morning—just a short message with a time and place:
"3:45 PM. East Exit. Want to walk for a bit?"
She had replied only with:
"Sure."
No emojis. No extra punctuation. But he'd stared at that message for a full minute, heart racing, before realizing he was smiling like an idiot in the middle of class.
Now, here he was—his heart flipping with every second.
Then she appeared.
She wasn't in her school uniform this time, and that alone made something tighten in his chest. She wore a cream sweater tucked into a navy skirt that moved lightly as she walked, a tote bag slung over her shoulder, and her hair—still in that single braid—was tied with a pale ribbon.
Rei swallowed. She looked… different. And yet still her.
Kana caught his gaze and walked up, a little unsure but with a smile teasing her lips.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey," he echoed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks for coming."
"I almost didn't," she teased.
He raised an eyebrow, startled. "Really?"
She shrugged. "I don't usually do this. Meet strange boys from trains."
That made Rei laugh—nervously, but sincerely. "I get it. I'm flattered, though."
Kana gave a small smile and looked away.
They started walking, side by side, toward the quiet street behind the station lined with old record shops, cafés, and bookstores. The sun made everything feel dipped in gold, like a scene from a music video.
"So," she said after a beat. "Why don't you have a new earpiece yet?"
He glanced at her, smiling faintly. "Because I didn't want to listen to music alone. Not after that train ride."
Kana looked surprised. And pleased. She turned her face away again, but not before he saw the blush just beginning to rise on her cheeks.
"That's a dumb reason," she muttered.
"Maybe," he said. "But it felt right."
They walked in silence for a while—comfortable, not awkward. The kind of silence Rei used to hate, but now found full of something… unspoken.
They passed a music store, and Kana suddenly stopped.
"Wait—this place has listening booths," she said, pointing to the glass window filled with album covers and handwritten recommendations. "Have you ever tried one?"
Rei shook his head.
"Then come on."
—
Inside, the store smelled like worn leather and dusted vinyl. An elderly man at the register nodded as Kana led Rei to the back where a few soundproof booths stood.
She picked a CD—a soft indie-pop album neither of them had heard before—and handed it to the clerk with a polite bow. Minutes later, they were seated inside the booth, a narrow wooden space with a bench just wide enough for the two of them, sharing a pair of padded studio headphones.
Their shoulders touched. Barely. But enough.
The first track played—dreamy vocals layered over gentle guitar—and they both leaned back.
Halfway through the third song, Kana looked sideways at Rei. He wasn't looking at her—his eyes were closed, head tilted slightly. He looked peaceful. Unburdened. The corners of his lips moved faintly with the melody.
She stared a little longer than she meant to.
He's cute.
The thought startled her.
She blinked and looked away, heart skipping. It wasn't just the music. It wasn't just the train. There was something about Rei—a quiet kindness, a gentle curiosity, the way he listened. Not just to songs, but to her.
She hadn't expected to feel anything. Not like this.
She pressed one side of the headphones closer to her ear to hide the fact that she was suddenly smiling.
—
Afterward, they sat at a small café with mismatched chairs and retro speakers playing low jazz in the background. Kana stirred her iced tea with a straw.
"You're quieter in person than I thought," she said.
Rei tilted his head. "What'd you expect?"
"I don't know. You seemed cooler that first day. Mysterious guy with the broken earbud."
Rei laughed. "That was my best side. Now you're stuck with the awkward real me."
"I think I like the awkward version better," she said softly, almost without meaning to.
Rei's breath caught. She was looking down at her drink, but her cheeks were pink again.
He didn't know what to say—so he smiled.
Then, carefully, he slid his phone across the table. "Want to make a shared playlist?"
Kana looked up. Her eyes widened, then softened.
"Yeah. I'd like that."
They sat for the next half hour trading songs—taking turns, picking tracks that reminded them of the train, of today, of everything they couldn't quite say out loud. Their playlist slowly grew: hopeful melodies, shy ballads, songs with verses about near strangers and almost-love.
When it was time to leave, they stood at the crossing outside the café, the sun beginning to dip low behind the buildings.
Rei looked at her, nervous. "Do you want to meet again? Soon?"
Kana met his gaze—and this time, she didn't look away.
"I was hoping you'd ask."
And that was all he needed.
They stood there, surrounded by the hum of the city, a shared silence falling between them like the pause before the final chorus of a song.