"Senda-kun! Senda-kun!"
A clear voice cut through the faint drizzle as Takumi Senda walked down the narrow road leading away from Mihara Public High School. The sky hung low, washed in dull gray, and raindrops fell lazily from above, soaking the cracked pavement. His schoolbag swayed lightly at his side as he slowed, glancing over his shoulder.
A figure came running toward him. A girl in the school's modest-length skirt, her neat round glasses speckled with tiny drops of rain, hurried along with a careful balance of shyness and resolve. Behind her stretched the silhouette of Mihara Public High School, its once-bright paint now faded into dull patches. Black streaks scarred the walls where years of rain had carved their mark, and the school's name—Mihara Public High School—was almost unreadable, each letter surrendering to time.
Takumi blinked, recognizing her.
"Oh… Nohara-san."
Breathless but smiling, the girl stopped in front of him and quickly opened her bag. From inside, she drew out a paperback, its cover slightly worn, the title standing bold in kanji.
"Here," she said, holding it out with both hands. "The Three-Headed Towers" by Seishi Yokomizo. It was so good… fantastic! Thank you for lending it to me."
Takumi's lips curved into the faintest smile, understated as always. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Do you want another one?"
Her eyes brightened immediately behind the lenses of her glasses. "Yeah! I'd love to."
There was a small pause before Takumi shifted the strap of his bag and spoke, his tone casual yet oddly purposeful.
"Nohara-san… Can you bring your younger brother to my house?"
"Eh?" She tilted her head, confused. "Why, Senda-san?"
Takumi glanced down at the wristwatch on his left arm. The rain slid across its scratched glass face, ticking steadily. "Just come. In about an hour or so… you'll understand."
She hesitated, caught between curiosity and confusion, but finally nodded. "Sure… See you later then."
"Yeah. See you."
With that, Takumi swung his leg over his bicycle, droplets clinging to its old frame, and pedaled hard against the drizzle. The tires splashed through shallow puddles as he leaned forward, sprinting into the dim evening, leaving only the soft echo of rain and the fading figure of Nohara-san standing under the gray sky.
The old wooden apartment building stood in silence, its beams weathered and walls stained with time. A faint creak accompanied every gust of wind that rattled its frail structure.
From the narrow street, a girl stepped out, her umbrella shaking droplets to the ground. Momo Ayase adjusted her modest skirt and tightened her grip on her younger brother's wrist.
"Hey, sister," the boy complained, puffing out his cheeks. "What are we even doing here? I wanted to play games…"
"Shhh," Momo hissed, turning sharply to silence him. "Keep quiet, or no bubble tea on the way home."
At that, his lips pressed into a sulky line. Though unwilling, he obeyed, trailing after her as they climbed the stairs. The wooden boards groaned beneath their steps, leading them to the farthest door on the second floor. The nameplate, slightly crooked, read in fading letters: Yuko Senda.
Momo reached out and rang the bell.
A moment later, the door opened. Standing there was Takumi Senda, his expression calm and unreadable.
"Oh, Nohara-san," he said, recognizing her. "Come in."
They stepped inside. The apartment was strangely empty—bare walls, a lone television in the corner, and a simple family altar quietly tucked against one side. The air smelled faintly of tatami mats, aged and worn. It was the kind of home that spoke of modest living, the sparse belongings hinting at a family who had endured more than a few hardships.
"This way," Takumi said quietly.
They followed him down the narrow hallway until he slid open the door to his room. It was small but strikingly tidy, everything carefully arranged. The only disorder came from the stacks of manga volumes and novels lining one corner. Above his desk, a poster of Shohei Ohtani hung, crisp and proud, alongside a framed One Piece Straw Hat Jolly Roger. The room pulsed with the quiet warmth of someone who valued his treasures deeply.
Momo blinked. "Huh… are you moving, Senda-san?"
Takumi let out a small laugh, not quite bitter but edged with something unsaid. "Wait here."
He slipped away to the kitchen and returned with two chilled bottles of green tea pulled from the old refrigerator. Handing one each to Momo and her brother, he sat down on the floor.
"Yeah," he said simply, "Tokyo."
"Tokyo?" Momo repeated, her voice rising slightly.
"Yeah."
Her brows furrowed. "Why suddenly?"
Takumi's gaze lowered, his fingers tightening slightly around the condensation of the bottle.
"It's my mom's decision."
Takumi unscrewed the cap of his green tea bottle and took a slow sip before speaking again. His words carried a calmness that didn't quite match the weight of what he was saying.
"We're moving… maybe as soon as tomorrow evening. We'll be taking the Shinkansen."
Momo stiffened. "Tomorrow? That soon?"
"Mm." Takumi nodded, setting the bottle down beside him. "Mom said we're only bringing clothes and the essentials. Everything else… we'll buy new in Tokyo. The old furniture and things here will be sent to my grandparents' house."
Momo tilted her head, her glasses catching the faint glow from the single light above. "Hmm… suddenly?" she asked softly, almost as though she still couldn't believe it.
"It's not suddenly," Takumi replied, his tone clipped. His eyes flickered toward her for only a moment before he forced the subject to shift, as if the truth weighed too heavily to linger on. He looked at Momo and then at her younger brother. "By the way, you two can take any of the books you want. The rest… I'm donating them to the library."
At that, her brother's head shot up, eyes wide with excitement. "Huh? Any manga here?" His voice rang with a thrill, breaking the subdued mood of the room.
Takumi's lips curved into an easy laugh, the heaviness in his words momentarily dissolving. "Yes, yes. Anything."
"Yesss!" The boy nearly lunged forward, his hands reaching for the stacked volumes of manga as though he'd stumbled upon hidden treasure. His small figure half-disappeared into the pile, the rustle of glossy covers and well-thumbed pages filling the room.
Momo watched her brother with a faint smile, but her gaze quickly returned to Takumi. His laughter lingered in the air, but beneath it she sensed something else—something unspoken that clung quietly to the moment.
The room had grown quieter, save for the shuffling sound of pages as Momo's younger brother eagerly dug through the stacks of manga, his small frame nearly swallowed by the piles. The faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen was the only other noise that broke the silence.
Momo sat cross-legged on the tatami, her green tea bottle cradled loosely in her hands. She turned it slowly, droplets of condensation running over her fingers. Her eyes flickered once toward her brother, then to Takumi, who was sitting across from her with the same calm, unreadable expression as always.
She hesitated. The words balanced on the tip of her tongue, unsure if they should fall. Finally, she leaned forward slightly and lowered her voice to a whisper, careful that her brother wouldn't hear.
"Senda-kun… Can I ask you something? If you don't mind, of course."
Takumi had just lifted the bottle to his lips. He paused, taking a small sip before setting it back down. His gaze met hers, steady and patient.
"Yeah."
Momo's eyes wavered behind the thin rims of her glasses. She leaned closer, her voice almost fragile.
"… is your mom… remarrying? Is that why you're moving?"
The question hung in the air, quiet but sharp, like a single droplet breaking the still surface of water.
"…I'm thinking the same," he admitted, his voice even, almost careful. "I think that's why we're moving to Tokyo."
Momo blinked, her lips parting slightly, but she didn't interrupt.
Takumi shifted, resting his elbow on his knee, the bottle hanging loosely in his hand. "I mean… it's just… the way she's changed. She lost weight, changed her entire diet, and started taking care of herself a lot more. She's even going to the gym regularly now."
There was no bitterness in his tone. If anything, there was a quiet acceptance, even a trace of relief.
"And I'm happy for her," Takumi added with a small smile, the corners of his mouth curving in a way that almost seemed like an effort.
Momo studied him for a moment, the faint light catching in her glasses, hiding the uncertainty in her eyes. She wanted to say something—something supportive, or perhaps comforting—but the words stuck in her throat. Behind them, her younger brother laughed excitedly as he pulled out another manga volume, oblivious to the delicate weight in the room.
By the time the evening shadows crept across the tatami, two cardboard boxes sat neatly by the door. They were filled to the brim—spines of novels lined up in careful order, colorful manga stacked like treasure waiting for a new home. Momo's younger brother hugged one volume to his chest, beaming as though he had just won a prize.
Momo brushed her skirt and stood, her gaze softening as she looked at Takumi. "Thank you, Senda-san… for everything. You've helped me since we were in middle school."
Takumi shook his head gently, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Don't mention it. You helped me as well, Nohara-san."
For a moment, silence pressed between them, only the distant patter of light rain outside filling the gap. Then Momo's eyes shifted, a quiet realization dawning. "So… today was your last day at school?"
"Yeah." His answer was simple, almost too quiet. He set his hands into his pockets, eyes turning slightly away. "I don't really have any friends at school apart from you. So… thank you, Nohara-san, for everything."
Her chest tightened, the words catching her off guard. She drew a steadying breath, then managed a small smile. "Senda-kun… whenever you come back to Mihara, or even to your grandparents' place, please call me. I'd like to meet you."
His gaze lifted at that, and he gave a short nod. "Sure."
They lingered a moment longer at the doorway. No more words came. Only the unspoken weight of parting drifted in the air, mingling with the smell of old wood and rain.
And when Momo finally stepped out with her brother, leaving Takumi standing quietly in the doorway, a faint tinge of sadness followed them down the creaking stairs.