Three quiet hours passed.
The bell rang as the last customer exited the door, while Ren finished wiping the last table with a lazy swipe.
"I'm done." – he muttered, taking off his apron with one hand and tossing it onto the counter.
"Finally. I expected the table to collapse before you moved." – Akiko remarked with a light smile as she cleaned the ceramic teapot behind the counter.
"It's still standing, unfortunately." – Ren said in a deadpan tone, stretching, then pointed his thumb toward the wooden stairs leading upstairs. – "Is she up there?"
"Yes, she's been waiting for half an hour. And if she explodes, I won't save you." – Akiko replied in a gentle tone that masked an unspoken threat.
"At least you might write something nice on my tombstone." – Ren muttered as he headed for the stairs.
—
The staircase leading to the upper floor was narrow but elegant, exuding the scent of polished wood and quiet. The house above was simple and cozy, with a small living room, a side kitchen, and two bedrooms. The overall atmosphere was exactly like the one that carried the aroma of coffee and warmth.
Ren opened the door to the room next to the living area without knocking, as he usually did, and found Saki sitting on the floor before a low table, surrounded by books and notebooks, her face buried in a literature book.
"…You're late." – she muttered without lifting her head.
"If you're starting with that, maybe I should go back downstairs and get some coffee." – Ren said, entering the room and closing the door behind him.
"If you go back downstairs, I'll fail. If I fail, I'll cry. If I cry, my mom will hear. If she hears, she'll hold you responsible… and you'll end up cleaning the bathrooms instead of making coffee." – Saki said, finally lifting her head, her face tired and eyes half-asleep.
Despite her messy appearance, it did not take away her beauty; her lovely blonde hair cascaded down her back like a golden waterfall, and her sleepy violet eyes were extremely captivating. Clearly, she inherited much of her mother's beauty, especially her well-proportioned figure.
"…That's a very complicated threat. It actually convinced me." – he muttered, sitting beside her and pulling a notebook closer.
"I didn't say all that to convince you, just to remind you of reality." – she muttered, pushing a red-inked exam paper toward him.
"…Oh, this isn't a test. It's a massacre." – he said, examining the paper closely.
"I was supposed to analyze the characters' feelings in a poem about loss… I don't know why I wrote about the feelings of a slice of bread in a hot toaster." – she said, hiding her face.
"…Maybe because you need a psychologist more than a literature teacher." – Ren muttered, turning the page.
"I don't understand why we have to interpret what the poet felt when he saw a leaf fall. Maybe it was just a tree, a leaf fell—why all this sorrow?"
"Because humans are complicated, and poets are even more so. Most of them need a warm hug and a cup of tea, not an answer sheet." – Ren said, opening the literature book and beginning to read.
—
Ren began reading the poem in a calm voice:
"…(Raindrops fall on the zinc roof, like the silent sigh of a faint heart groaning without a sound)."
"Oh, how dramatic… It's just rain, why always sadness?"
"Because the writer links rain with loneliness. Notice: (groaning without a sound). He's not just saying the rain falls, but that someone feels something they cannot express. That's the key."
Saki furrowed her brows slightly, trying to focus:
"But why not just say they're sad? Why the symbolism?"
"Because literature isn't a weather report. It's an attempt to say things that cannot be said simply."
—
The next hour passed in relative calm. Ren explained each line in simple language, using odd comparisons that sometimes made Saki laugh and sometimes frown.
"Imagine this poem as a drama film, and the rain is the soundtrack, and the main character stares out the window very slowly."
"…Is the main character also a slice of bread?"
"…Only if it's sad and toasted."
—
Evening came. It was nearly nine o'clock, and the warm glow of a table lamp lit the room.
Saki had rested her head on the table, her eyes staring at an open notebook before her.
"You know, I don't think I'm stupid. It's just… these kinds of questions don't match the way I think."
Ren didn't answer immediately. He looked at her for a moment, then said:
"You're not stupid. You're just trying to understand others' feelings through your own logic. And that's both beautiful and difficult at the same time."
Saki smiled faintly, mumbling:
"…Does that mean you'll write my answers on the exam?"
"No. But I'll stay here until you understand how to write them yourself."
A few more minutes passed, then Saki suddenly asked:
"Ren… do you think poetry can make people feel less lonely?"
Ren paused, then looked at her:
"Maybe. Or it can make them feel that someone understands them, even if it's a poet dead for a hundred years."
"…That's sweet. I mean, in a sad way."
"Sweet things are always a little sad. That's what makes them precious."
A light knock came at the door, before Akiko's head peeked in:
"Are you two okay? It's been a long time."
"Yes, we're just analyzing how a tree leaf feels in mid-October." – Ren said with a smile.
Akiko chuckled softly:
"As long as you don't make a poem about the toaster again, everything's fine."
And so, time passed. Far from Hollows, far from Soul Society, far from the system and tasks… in a simple corner of a warm house above a wooden café, there was a moment of peace, interrupted only by whispered poetry and a sincere attempt at understanding.
A place that felt like "life."
...
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