The afternoon bled into evening without either of them noticing.
They started with cream puffs at the tiny patisserie near the station that still wrapped each pastry in pale-blue paper the way it had when they were fifteen. Erica insisted on paying—
"You're the guest in Tokyo now"—
and laughed when powdered sugar snowed onto Haruto's scarf. From there it was a short walk to the riverbank where they used to skip classes on warm spring days, sitting on the concrete embankment sharing earbuds and melon soda. The benches were the same, only the graffiti had changed. The water reflected the first neon signs flickering on across the city, turning the surface into fractured pink and blue glass.
