The scent of saltwater still lingered faintly in my nose as we stepped out of the Enoshima Aquarium. The warm glow of the afternoon sunbathed Touka's short hair in soft gold, giving her that fleeting look—like she didn't belong in this world, or maybe like she was about to disappear into the light.
"How was it?" I asked, trying not to sound too self-conscious.
Touka tilted her head slightly, a small smile forming at the corner of her lips. "The jellyfish tunnel was pretty. It felt like walking through a dream."
"Right?" I grinned. "I always thought you'd like that part the most."
She looked up at me with wide eyes. "You remembered?"
I looked away, a hand scratching at my nape. "Of course I did. It's you, after all."
She didn't say anything for a while, but I could feel her staring at me. There was something about today that made every second feel heavier, like the moments themselves knew they were numbered.
Touka, now living in Tokyo, and me, stuck in Enoshima—it's not like we'd broken up or anything, but reality had placed a subtle wall between us. One neither of us could name out loud.
I fished out my bike key from my pocket. "There's one more place I want to go before the sun sets. Want to come?"
Her eyes sparkled, and she nodded.
"Always."
The ride was quiet, but comfortable.
Touka held on tight around my waist, the warmth of her fingers seeping through the fabric of my jacket. The sea breeze tangled her hair, and she hummed softly behind me as if to remember the rhythm of the waves crashing nearby. The coast stretched out beside us, glittering under the orange-tinged sky.
It only took a few minutes to reach the beach I used to visit when I needed to think. We parked near the slope and walked the rest of the way down to the sand. There were few people this time of day—just the sound of the tide brushing the shore, gentle and consistent, like a heartbeat you could barely hear.
Touka kicked off her sandals and let the sand bury her toes.
"It's been a while since I felt this kind of silence," she said softly.
I nodded, pushing my hands deep into my pockets. "Tokyo's loud, huh?"
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she walked closer to the water's edge, letting the gentle waves roll over her feet. I followed her, just a few steps behind.
"I miss this place," she finally said. "Not just Enoshima… but this feeling. The sea breeze. The sound of your bike. The way the air smells after the aquarium."
"…So do I," I murmured.
I wanted to say more, but the words were stuck somewhere deep inside my chest, wrapped in the same knot of emotions I had carried since the day she moved.
Touka turned to me, her eyes reflecting the dimming sky. "Himeya… do you think we made the right choice?"
I looked at her. "What do you mean?"
"Staying together. Even though we're apart now." Her voice quivered slightly, and she bit her bottom lip. "Sometimes, I wonder if it's harder this way. If it would've been easier to… to just let go."
The wind picked up, brushing strands of hair across her face. I reached out instinctively and tucked it behind her ear. It was shorter now, barely brushing her chin. I missed her longer hair, but this suited her too. A little more grown-up. A little more distant.
"I don't want easy," I said, my voice low. "I want you."
She looked surprised. Maybe even hurt.
"But I'm not really here, am I?" she whispered. "I'm in Tokyo. With a different school, different friends, a different pace of life. I'm becoming someone you don't see anymore."
"That's not true."
"You only say that because you're kind." She shook her head, looking down at her feet, letting the water wash over them again. "I know how this kind of story usually ends. Distance becomes silence. Silence becomes forgetting. One day we'll call it a 'precious memory' and try not to look too sad about it."
I stepped closer and gently took her hand.
"Touka," I said. "I think about you every morning. I wonder what you're doing during class. I imagine what you're eating for lunch. And at night, when the day ends, I fall asleep hoping that somewhere in Tokyo, you're thinking of me too."
Her hand tightened around mine. Her fingers were cold, just a little.
"I do," she whispered. "I think about you all the time. On the train, during lunch breaks, when I hear someone laugh the way you do. I keep thinking... if I could just ride your motorbike with you one more time, maybe it would make everything feel real again."
I smiled. "We're here now. Isn't that enough for today?"
She let out a soft laugh. "You always say things like that."
I looked out at the sea. The horizon was beginning to fade into blue-gray.
"You know," I began, "people say high school love doesn't last. That after we graduate, we'll meet new people and change. But I don't want that to be our story."
Touka looked up at me, her eyes glimmering with something unreadable.
"I want to make a promise," I said.
"To stay together?" she asked.
I shook my head. "That would be easy."
She tilted her head in confusion.
"I want to promise that even if we do change, even if we drift a little or even fall apart for a while, we'll always find our way back to each other. No matter how far. No matter how long. That's the kind of love I want with you."
For a moment, the waves stopped.
Or maybe it just felt that way.
Touka stepped into my chest and wrapped her arms around me. Her head rested just beneath my chin. I could feel her trembling, but I didn't say anything. I just held her tight, as if that alone could anchor us here.
"I love you, Himeya," she said quietly. "Even if I'm in Tokyo, even if we end up on opposite sides of the world someday… I think I'll always love you."
I closed my eyes and whispered, "I love you too."
And we just stayed like that, listening to the ocean.
We sat side by side on the sand as the sky darkened. Touka leaned her head on my shoulder while drawing aimless lines with her finger in the sand.
"You know," she said, "I cut my hair short because I thought it would help me start fresh. A new version of myself. But sometimes I feel like I left too much behind."
I looked at her, then gently ran my fingers through the ends of her hair.
"It suits you," I said.
She smiled. "Liar."
"I'm serious."
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Would you still love me even if I become someone you don't recognize?"
"I'd find you again," I said. "Even if I had to go through ten different versions of you."
"As I expected, a line like that doesn't suit you."
Both of us laugh, and I've said this many times, but... man, I miss moments like this.
The night had settled deeply by the time the stars finally blinked into the sky. We stood in silence, the ocean's whispers in the background, and Touka brushed the sand from her skirt with a reluctant sigh.
"It's getting late," she said, her voice soft, but there was something in it that made it sound like she wasn't ready to part ways just yet.
"Yeah, let's go back." I said
She nodded, but there was an unreadable expression on her face, a mix of sadness and something else I couldn't quite place. "Yeah."
I could feel the weight of her gaze as I started up the motorbike. The hum of the engine seemed loud in the quiet of the beach, the sound almost too heavy for the peaceful evening. As we rode back through the winding coastal roads, the night air bit at my cheeks. Touka's arms were around me once again, but this time it felt different. There was a tension in her grip, as though she didn't want to let go, but at the same time, she knew she had to.
The ride to the house was short, but it felt like it lasted much longer, the engine's roar filling my ears as I stole glances at her in the rearview mirror. Her hair, once flowing freely in the wind, was now windblown and messy, and the soft light of the streetlamps painted her face with delicate shadows.
We pulled up to my house. It was a modest, but warm and welcoming.
Touka removed her arms from around me and slid off the motorbike. I was about to say something, but then I noticed her hesitation. Her hand lingered on my back for a moment too long before she finally let go.
"I had fun," she said, her words quiet, almost as though she were trying to convince herself.
"Me too," I replied softly, not quite meeting her gaze.
She paused, biting her lip. "I'm glad we're having this date."
Before I could respond, she stepped closer, just enough to close the gap between us. She lifted her face, and without warning, kissed me—a fleeting brush of her lips, light and almost hesitant, but there was a finality to it. A promise. Or maybe a goodbye.
My heart skipped at the warmth of her touch, but before I could say anything, she pulled back. Her eyes held mine for a moment, her gaze lingering longer than I was comfortable with.
...
"Yeah... Me too." I smiled at her, and then we ended the day with a nice chat with my mother, father, and Kei.