Chapter 45: Imperfect Harmony.
The glow of the phone screen illuminated Rave's golden eyes in the dark. He scrolled, stopped, and tapped on a contact name that read:
(Ex) Blind kid with hidden trauma
A chuckle escaped him-not unkind, just tired. The kind of tired that lives in the marrow, not the muscles.
The calendar app lit up.
Two names.
Two meetings.
Renji 9:00 AM - Riverway Station
Tokusake Ren - 3:15 PM - South Shibane Park
He slid the phone into his coat pocket, buttoned the last clasp, and stepped out.
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Time: 9:30 AM
Riverway Station sat mostly empty, the morning crowd long passed. Rave spotted Renji leaning against the railing, face tilted to the sky like he was trying to burn a memory into his retinas.
"Renji," Rave called, casual as if they were old friends.
Renji blinked once, then again. "You're...?"
"Just call me Rave," he said, offering a hand. "I've heard things. Thought you were worth a conversation."
The handshake was firm.
Warm.
Surprisingly human.
They walked along the quiet river path, footsteps swallowed by the rush of water and passing wind.
"I was told you once loved someone," Rave said.
"Past tense," Renji replied. "Now she's just a thorn I can't throw away."
"I met her," Rave said.
That made Renji pause. His expression didn't change, but his shoulders tensed.
"She's doing well," Rave continued, "Still sharp. Still unsure."
Renji exhaled, like the breath had been sitting there for months.
"You ever regret not trying harder?" Rave asked him.
Renji smiled, but it didn't touch his eyes. "No. I regret trying like I did."
There was silence, then laughter from both of them-bitter, dry, but honest.
"You remind me of someone I met," Renji said eventually. "A little too observant for your own good."
Rave just shrugged. "I read people like you read maps-lines, bends, scars, patterns. Doesn't mean I know the road."
"Then what the hell are you doing walking it?"
"Because some people forget they were ever lost."
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Time: 3:30 PM
Ren was already sitting on the bench by the time Rave arrived at South Shibane Park. Wind tugged at his collar. His eyes were restless.
"You're late," Ren said, arms crossed.
"You're tense," Rave replied, sitting beside him.
Ren narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
"Someone who prefers tea over coffee and thinks time travel fiction peaked in the 90s."
"That's not an answer."
"It wasn't meant to be."
There was a beat of silence.
Then-surprisingly-Ren laughed. Just a breath, but it was real.
"You're weird."
"And you're lonely," Rave replied.
Ren's shoulders went stiff.
"You hide it well. But it's in the pauses between your words. In the way you look around when no one's talking. Like you're waiting for something to collapse."
"I don't know you," Ren muttered, looking away.
"You will," Rave said, gently. "And maybe...you'll forgive yourself a little faster."
They sat in quiet for a while, watching the kids run across the field. Ren didn't know when his guard fell, but somehow Rave made the air feel lighter.
And that scared him more than anything else.
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Time: 5:30 PM
The bell chimed softly as Rave stepped into Okushaki Café, the scent of toasted cinnamon and aged books wrapping around him like a shawl. He took a seat in the back-his usual.
A tall man with amber-dyed hair came over and placed a cup without asking.
"You're getting predictable," Kakeru said, pulling out a chair across from him.
"You're getting soft," Rave replied, sipping.
"Soft? I let you sit here even though you keep scaring away my regulars."
Rave smirked. "That one guy had it coming. He was reading Ayn Rand in public."
"Philosophical crimes, huh?" a new voice cut in.
Tsukasa plopped into the third chair, an apron still tied around his waist. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes lingered on Rave just a second longer than comfort would allow.
"You talked to the boy?" Kakeru asked.
"Both of them," Rave answered, not specifying which he meant.
Tsukasa raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"Two sides of the same mistake," Rave said, swirling his tea. "One trying to rewrite the end. The other pretending it never existed."
"They'll meet eventually," Tsukasa murmured.
"They'll have to," Rave replied. "It's already started."
A brief pause.
Kakeru tapped the table twice. "Don't get attached."
"I don't," Rave lied-too quickly.
Tsukasa didn't look up. "You say that, but your stupid mask's starting to feel sentimental."
"I'm allergic to sentiment," Rave said dryly.
"You're addicted to it."
That earned a sideways glance. Rave leaned back in the booth, arms draped over the seat like he owned it. "Please, I'm the one keeping the gears turning."
"Gears of what?" Tsukasa scoffed. "You've been doing nothing but making vague statements and drinking sugar. I'm watching her and the Tokusake boy."
Rave blinked. "Her?"
"Yeah."
"You mean him."
"No. I mean what I said."
Rave squinted. "Wait wait wait-what the fuck do you mean her? The whole point of this spiral is him. The boy. Ren."
Tsukasa's lips curled into something half-smirk, half-snarl. "Then explain how the boy you're so obsessed with dodges every gendered pronoun like it's a virus. That transgender bullshit, I swear-"
"-Don't," Kakeru cut in sharply, his voice low but slicing. He didn't look up from polishing a glass. "We don't lose customers. We don't lose each other. Got it?"
A silence.
Tsukasa exhaled through his nose and leaned back. "Fine."
Rave stared at the condensation trailing down his drink. "You're overthinking it. I'm not here for pronouns. I'm here because that version of Tokusake Ren is the thread."
"What thread?" Tsukasa asked.
Rave turned his head toward the window, where the glass blurred the night like watercolors.
"The thread between what went wrong... and what could still go right."
Kakeru raised an eyebrow. "You're talking about Harmony again, aren't you?"
"I'm saying," Rave said, tapping the rim of his glass, "that the two of them-Ren and her-will never make sense. But they'll still fit. Like broken gears grinding in rhythm."
Tsukasa shook his head. "You're throwing out oxymorons now."
Rave shrugged. "They'll be in an imperfect harmony."
Tsukasa looked at him, deadpan. "How the hell is harmony imperfect?"
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The ball bounced softly on the cracked pavement.
*Thump.*
*Thump.*
*Thump.*
Ren stood alone under the yellow floodlight, sweat clinging to his skin, hoodie sleeves pushed up. He wasn't doing much. Just dribbling and some shooting in a rhythm. Like he needed this rhythm to stop his brain from spiraling.
Everything was wrong. Not dramatically.
Quietly.
Like he was wearing a life that didn't fit his bones anymore.
He wasn't playing. Not really.
He was listening.
To his own heartbeat.
To the silence between memory and guilt.
His shoes scuffed against the faded lines of the outdoor basketball court. He dribbled slowly. One, two, three—shot.
*Clang!*
He sighed and chased the ball.
He needed to sweat out the thoughts.
Yuuta.
Rave.
Himself.
Then-
The gate creaked open.
He turned, instinct sharpened, but his face softened when he saw the small figure.
Middle school. Girl. Baggy uniform jacket. She clutched the fence as if stepping onto the court might electrocute her.
Ren read her body in a second.
'Frozen posture. Wide eyes. No phone out-this wasn't boredom or curiosity. It was anxiety.'
'She's scared,' he concluded.
So he changed.
He slouched his shoulders, let the ball roll lazily under his palm, and put on a thin, harmless smile.
"Hey," he said, voice low and warm. "You play?"
The girl blinked. "... sometimes."
"I'm not great either," he said casually, walking toward the hoop. "But this court's free. Don't worry, I'm not a weirdo."
She didn't move.
Ren crouched and retrieved the ball again. He tossed it toward her, gently. It bounced once, stopping near her foot.
Her fingers twitched.
'Almost there,' Ren thought. 'Just a bit more.'
He wasn't being cruel. He wasn't lying. He was trying to make her feel safe.
But somewhere deep down-he knew this wasn't just kindness.
This was habit.
Observation.
Control.
"Hey," he said, voice light. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna bite."
She blinked. Didn't move.
"You actually actually play or..." he added. "Or just like watching the sky from the hoop?"
Still no answer.
Ren smiled a little and looked away.
'She still has her guard up. I'll need to lower my presence. Look distracted. Let's talk slow.'
"I'm just killing time," he said, grabbing another ball and taking a shot-missing the hoop on purpose. "I suck. See? You'd probably beat me."
That made her shift slightly. One foot forward.
"...I play sometimes," she muttered.
Ren gave a soft laugh. "Better than me, then. I just needed to think. You can have the court if you want. I'll sit and pretend I'm an air conditioner."
That got a smirk out of her. Barely. But it was there.
She took a few steps closer, cautiously. Still watching him.
Ren was calm on the outside. But inside?
He was taking mental notes.
'Nervous type. Maybe bullied? No-her shoes are clean. Probably just shy. Middle school, so hormones and social fear still peaking. Approaching this like a stray cat. Gentle words, neutral posture, no sudden moves.'
He wasn't manipulating her, he told himself.
He was guiding the moment.
But even he didn't fully believe that.
Still, he stayed seated on the bench as she began to dribble. Awkward at first. Then smoother.
"I'm Tokusake Ren," he said, trying to spark another conversation. "You don't have to tell me your name. Just figured I should introduce myself since... I'm technically intruding."
She took the rolling ball.
Shot once. Missed.
He chuckled. "That's how I started too."
They fell into a loose rhythm. Conversation and lose space.
Until-
She finally spoke. Not looking at him.
"You know," she said, voice flat, "the only reason this court's always empty is because the Tokusake Ren from this branch killed himself."