POV: Kaito
Steam rose lazily from the sink as Kaito rinsed another glass. It was nearly midnight, and the café was gradually emptying, chairs already being flipped over onto tables. Rain lashed against the windows, relentless and cold.
He whistled a tune—half tune, half memory—something his grandmother whistled when she made bread. He was tired. The kind of tired that lasts even after sleep. But he'd accepted it. Tokyo life was fast and unforgiving, but at least he was moving.
And then, the phone rang.
It's his mobile. He glanced at the manager, who raised an eyebrow but didn't stop wiping the counter.
Kaito wiped his hands quickly and picked up.
"Hello, Kaito here, who it is?" he said.
There was a pause. Then, a breath.
"I'm here."
The voice was soft, trembling. Fragile and warm. Like paper lanterns in the dark.
Kaito froze.
"…Haruka?"
The line went dead.
The world stood still for a whole second. His chest collapsed and swelled at the same time.
Then he dropped the glass towel, tore off his apron, and ran.
He said nothing. Did not look over his shoulder. Just ran into the rain, past the blinking billboards of Shibuya, down half-remembered alleys. His entire body screamed to get him moving faster.
He knew where she meant.
Not where in Tokyo, but where in them.
The park had not been altered much. A little smaller since they had all grown up. The swings were rusty, and the bench beneath the old willow tree still creaked when the wind was too strong.
And there she was.
Standing under the dim light of the bus stop, soaked through, holding her bag like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her hair was clinging to her cheeks, and her shoes were muddy.
She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
Kaito stopped just a few feet away, panting, rain dripping from his hoodie.
"You're here," he breathed.
Haruka looked up at him, her eyes glassy. "I didn't know where else to go."
He closed the distance between them, and she fell against his chest before he could say another thing.
They held each other like two people who had waited their whole lives to be chosen.
The evening crawled along around them. The rain slowed to a drizzle. The city hummed softly, but in this tiny corner of theirs, time stood still.
They hid under the park's dilapidated gazebo. Kaito shrugged off his jacket and put it around Haruka's shoulders. She burrowed into him, her hands holding onto his shirt as if he would disappear.
"I didn't bring anything," she whispered.
"Me neither," he said.
"No plan. No idea what comes next."
He smiled against her damp hair. "We make it up."
She pulled back slightly to look at him. "Why are you smiling?"
"Because you're here."
She blinked, as if unsure whether to cry or laugh. Then, quietly, she did both.
From his back pocket, Kaito pulled out a small velvet pouch, weathered and faded. He had almost forgotten it was there. Almost.
He had taken it from the drawer in Natsumi's old desk before leaving for Tokyo. Inside was the ring his Natsumi had given him, once meant for another reason, another time.
But tonight… tonight, it felt like it was in its place.
He opened the pouch and pulled out a simple silver ring, its edges smoothed by years of wear.
Haruka's eyes widened.
"I know this isn't a lot," he said, shivering. "I don't have a good job. I don't have a place to live, or even a plan more than a day in advance. But I have this."
He held her hand softly and slipped the ring onto her fourth finger.
"It's not a proposal. Not how grown-ups do it. This isn't about paperwork or ceremony."
Haruka's lips opened into a shaking breath.
"This is just… me saying I want to walk ahead with you. Even if the road is messy. Even if we fall."
She was weeping now, silently, her other hand covering her mouth.
You don't have to agree," Kaito went on, laughing at how quickly his heart was pounding. "But I had to ask. Even if it's just for one night. Even if the whole world thinks it's stupid."
Haruka shook her head.
Kaito looked up.
She smiled, tears and sure. "It's brave."
They didn't go back that night.
They discovered an old guesthouse two stops away, operated by a sleepy woman who didn't pry. She handed them a room key without comment, only smiling at how Haruka's hand never left Kaito's.
In the small room with tatami mats and a low-lit lamp, they curled into each other, two people who had finally chosen each other.
No promises. No firecrackers. No hideaways.
Only gentle belief.
The ring glowed faintly in the light of the lamp, lying between the fingers of a girl who had run away from everything except the one thing that did not count.
And a boy who would sacrifice the world rather than sacrifice her again.
Outside, Tokyo continued to breathe—fast, loud, never-ending.
But within that tiny room, time slowed.
And in the quiet, they began writing their story.
Not one given to them.
Not one dictated by fear.
But one fresh.
Composed by the hands that had dared to clutch one another, even in the darkness.