"Thank you, Murakami-san. You gave me your time even though it's getting late… I truly appreciate it," Yujiro said at last. His tone was kind and steady, carried on that deep, masculine voice that felt at odds with the unease in his expression.
Maki tilted her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Kondo-san, you said you live in Nakano, didn't you? Why don't we go together on the train until Nakano?"
"Ah—sure," Yujiro replied, caught off guard by the offer.
They began walking side by side through the streets toward Shinjuku Station. The city was alive with energy—salarymen spilling out of izakayas, bright signs blinking overhead, and the faint scent of grilled yakitori drifting in the air. Yet between the two of them, there was only silence. Their footsteps matched in rhythm, but their thoughts were far from aligned.
Yujiro kept his eyes forward, his broad shoulders tense. He wanted to speak, to salvage what little courage he had left, but the words lodged stubbornly in his throat.
Maki walked calmly, hands clasped loosely in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at him—this towering man who looked like he belonged in a wrestling ring, yet carried himself like a boy unsure of his place. The contrast amused her more than she let on.
When they reached the station, the crowd swallowed them. They passed through the ticket gates, descended the stairs, and waited together on the bustling platform. The incoming train roared into the station, its brakes screeching against steel, and soon they were seated across from one another in the half-crowded car.
The train lurched forward. Neon lights streaked across the windows, replaced by the darkness of the tunnels. Between them, silence stretched, filled only by the faint announcements and the quiet chatter of other passengers.
Yujiro sat stiff, his hands folded over his knees, gaze fixed firmly on the floor. Maki leaned back casually, her legs crossed, stealing small glances at him. She could sense his turmoil and his sadness from earlier, and it made her lips curve into that same faint, unreadable smile.
Stop after stop passed until the train finally began to slow near Nakano Ward. The distance between them remained the same—close enough to feel the other's presence, yet separated by all the things unsaid.
As they stood near the station exit, Maki reached into her handbag and pulled out her phone. She held it lightly in her hand, her eyes glimmering with amusement.
"I called my son back at the ramen shop," she said casually. "He's twenty-three. His name is Souta. Souta Yamamoto. He just entered the workforce this spring."
Yujiro froze, unsure how to respond. "Oh… nice," he managed awkwardly.
"Yamamoto Souta," Maki repeated deliberately, her gaze fixed on him.
"Huh?" Yujiro tilted his head, confusion plain on his face. He didn't understand why she was emphasizing the name.
Suddenly, Maki burst into laughter, her voice ringing out brightly against the quiet street. She covered her mouth, shoulders shaking. "We just met an hour ago, and I already know your clumsy personality," she teased.
Yujiro blinked, still lost. "Eh…?"
Her laughter softened, and she finally explained. "My name is Maki Murakami. My son's name is Souta Yamamoto. I got divorced six years ago. I've been single ever since. Souta kept his father's family name, but he lives with me."
For a moment, Yujiro stood stunned. Then, slowly, his expression transformed—the sadness that had weighed him down melted away. His eyes began to sparkle with sudden light, and a broad, unrestrained smile spread across his face.
Yujiro's sudden smile was so bright, so genuine, that Maki couldn't help but laugh again. The tension that had shadowed their evening seemed to dissolve all at once.
"You should've seen your face," she teased between chuckles. "So serious, so gloomy—like a man on trial. And here you are, lighting up the whole street with just one smile."
Yujiro rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his deep laugh joining hers. "Well… you nearly gave me a heart attack, Murakami-san. I thought everything was already over before it even began."
"That's your clumsy side," she said warmly, her laughter gentling into a smile. "And honestly… I like it."
For a moment, they stood there, sharing the simple joy of the moment. Then Maki tilted her head, her eyes narrowing playfully. "You know, Kondo-san… You're exactly my type."
Yujiro blinked, startled. "Eh—what?"
"Tall. Strong. Masculine." Her tone was direct, but her lips curved in amusement. "I really enjoyed talking to you tonight. So… let's go out more. We can get to know each other properly. Then, we can decide what's next—or if it's not suitable."
His chest tightened, not with nerves this time, but with a growing warmth he hadn't felt in years.
"I… I'd like that very much," he said, voice firm but gentle.
"Good," Maki replied. She slipped her phone from her bag again and held it out to him. "I'll call you this weekend."
They exchanged contacts beneath the glow of the streetlights, their phones chiming softly with the new entry.
The night around them carried on—trains clattering in the distance, the faint hum of traffic—but for Yujiro and Maki, it felt like the world had briefly slowed, giving them space to breathe, to smile, to begin something uncertain yet full of possibility.
They left each other with a smile, parting just outside Nakano Station. Yujiro bowed slightly once more before turning toward his side of the ward, his broad frame soon lost among the quiet stream of commuters.
Maki adjusted the strap of her handbag and began walking toward her own apartment, her heels tapping softly against the pavement. The cool night breeze brushed against her face as she allowed her thoughts to wander.
Yujiro Kondo… What a curious man.
She replayed the evening in her mind—the awkward introduction, his nervous stammering, the way he blushed like a boy despite looking like a fighter, and finally, that unguarded smile he showed at the end.
Her lips curved upward. A man built like that, yet shy enough to nearly break under a single word. Honest, straightforward, maybe even too pure for Tokyo… And still, exactly my type.
Maki let out a quiet chuckle to herself, shaking her head. The city lights shimmered around her, but for once, she wasn't paying attention to the neon signs or the crowded streets.
Instead, her thoughts circled only one thing: This weekend, when I call him… I'll know for sure whether tonight was just chance or the start of something real.