The air in Shibuya was a vibrant, chaotic mixture of sounds.
The rhythmic beep of traffic lights, the muffled buzz of countless conversations, and the distant, melodic chime from a nearby cafe all blended.
Haruya, Menma, and Tsumugi were in the midst of it all, standing just off to the side of the famous intersection, watching a wave of people cross in a synchronized, fluid motion.
Tsumugi, a bright spark of energy, was the first to speak. Her eyes, wide with a youthful wonder, darted around, taking in the dazzling chaos.
"It's so different here than at home," she said, her voice light and full of excitement. She turned to Menma, a friendly smile on her face. "Right, Meiko? I've never really been here much either."
Menma blinked, a bit shyly, before her own gaze settled on the huge digital billboards and flashing screens. "Yeah. It's really big. And there are so many people."
Haruya stood a few steps back, observing the two of them.
He was happy to see Tsumugi instantly taking charge, her natural charisma and bubbly personality making it easy to forget the awkwardness that had filled his room just moments ago.
He was worried that the two of them, a bit different from each other, might not get along, but Tsumugi was making it work.
She wasn't overbearing, just genuinely curious and kind.
"So," Tsumugi said, her tone suddenly playful, "why does Haruya call you 'Menma'?"
Menma's cheeks turned a soft pink. "It's just a nickname. My full name is Meiko Honma, mixing parts of it form into Menma."
Tsumugi nodded, her expression understanding. "I get it. Like, people call me 'Mugi' sometimes. It's kind of like a secret language between friends, isn't it?"
Menma looked up, a small smile forming on her face. "Yeah. Something like that."
Haruya, who had been listening silently from a few steps back, felt a small swell of warmth in his chest.
It was such a simple question, but the way Menma had answered it with a touch of fondness and nostalgia made it feel special.
Tsumugi's genuine delight made it clear that she was happy to have a new friend to share these small, personal things with.
He watched as the initial awkwardness began to melt away, replaced by a more settled atmosphere between the two.
"So, what do you guys want to do?" Haruya asked, stepping forward to join them. "We could get some crepes, or maybe go check out the big bookstore a few streets down?"
"A bookstore sounds perfect!" Tsumugi chirped, her face brightening. "I love bookstores. They always have so much interesting stuff, especially in music."
Menma's eyes lit up. "That sounds nice!"
As they walked, the crowds seemed to part around them.
They found their way to the massive bookstore Haruya had mentioned, a tall, multi-story building with a warm, inviting glow.
Inside, it was a peaceful sanctuary from the chaos outside.
The air smelled of old paper and coffee coming from the staff's work stations.
Tsumugi immediately gravitated toward the music section on the second floor.
She ran a hand over the spines of countless books, her fingers tracing the titles of classical composers.
Menma followed; her presence was like a calming counterpoint to Tsumugi's lively energy.
"See this?" Tsumugi said, pulling out a book of Chopin nocturnes.
"He was so good at telling stories with his music. You can almost feel the rain on the windowpanes when you play this one." She looked at Menma. "Do you play any instruments, Meiko?"
Menma shook her head. "Not really. I love to listen sometimes, though."
Tsumugi nodded. "Well, that's okay. You don't have to play an instrument to love music! Music is everywhere, you know?"
She gestured to the people around them, browsing through books. "It's in the way people talk, in the rhythm of their footsteps. I even hear songs in the little bells that hang from storefronts."
Menma looked at her with a gentle, questioning look. "You can?"
"Of course!" Tsumugi laughed. "I have a theory that every person has their own theme song. My dad's is like a slow, jazzy tune, and my mom's is like a fast-paced, happy jingle. I bet Onii-chan's is something more dramatic and a little clumsy, like a drum solo gone wrong." She playfully elbowed him, and he couldn't help but laugh.
Menma giggled softly. It was clear that she enjoyed the presence of a new friend.
Haruya smiled.
Tsumugi really had a way of bringing that out of people.
They spent a long time in the bookstore, Tsumugi excitedly showing Menma her favorite composers and explaining the different movements of a symphony, and Menma, in turn, pointing out books that she had read and loved, describing the characters and the worlds within them.
As a side character for today, Haruya watched them, feeling happy in his heart.
The tension from the accident earlier was still there, but it seemed like it was pushed to the back of their minds for now.
They found a quiet corner on the fourth floor, where a small cafe was tucked away.
They ordered drinks and pastries and found a table overlooking a small, peaceful garden on a rooftop.
"So, tell me about your mom's flower shop," Tsumugi said, after taking a sip of her hot chocolate. "That sounds so pretty."
"It is," Menma said, her eyes a little dreamy. "She has so many different kinds of flowers. She always says that flowers have their own language. Like a red rose means love, but a sunflower means adoration and loyalty. Every color, every type has its own meaning."
Tsumugi leaned forward, her elbows on the table. "That's so cool. It's like they're telling their own stories without words. Kind of like music." She paused, a thoughtful expression on her face. "My dream for now is to be a great pianist. I'm not sure what the future will hold, so I want to follow this for now."
"You're amazing, Tsumugi," Menma said softly. "You're so talented."
"Hey, don't say that! You're pretty good too!" Tsumugi insisted. "What you do with flowers it sounds beautiful. It's not just a hobby. It's a way of expressing yourself, isn't it?"
Menma's eyes welled up slightly, happy that she was being validated by her new friend.
As the afternoon light began to fade, they made their way back toward the station.
The streets were even more crowded now, and the vibrant lights of the city were beginning to flicker on.
Tsumugi walked in the middle, talking excitedly about a new song she wanted to learn, her voice a cheerful melody in the chaotic symphony of Shibuya.
Haruya and Menma walked on either side of her, a more comfortable atmosphere settling between them.
The accident earlier was no longer the most prominent thing in their minds; it was simply a part of their shared history now, a memory that would pave the way for something new in the far future.
"Haru," Menma's voice suddenly called out from behind him.
Haruya stopped walking and looked back at the girl. "Menma?"
Menma continued to walk, matching Haruya's pace.
"I suddenly remembered something."
"What is it?"
She looked up, their eyes locking onto each other. "We still don't know the name of the flower we saw that day."