The sound of the train wheels clacking against the rails filled the quiet carriage.
Outside the window, the late afternoon sunlight stretched lazily across the countryside, painting everything gold.
The class trip was officially over.
Laughter from a few rows back drifted through the air — sleepy students trading snacks and photos — but Haruto and Aoi sat side by side in calm silence.
Aoi leaned her chin against the window, watching the scenery blur past. "It feels weird, doesn't it? Like… the fun just ended too fast."
"Yeah," Haruto said softly. "It always does."
She turned her head slightly, her reflection flickering on the glass. "Hey, did you like it? The trip?"
He glanced at her — the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "I did."
"That's not a very detailed review, sensei."
"I mean… it was nice. The food was great, the temples were beautiful, and…" He hesitated. "...the company was even better."
Aoi's eyes widened a little before she hid her smile behind her hand. "Smooth talker now, huh?"
Haruto scratched his cheek, embarrassed. "I didn't mean it like that. I just—"
"I know." She giggled softly. "But I liked hearing it anyway."
They sat like that for a while, with only the rhythm of the train between them. The golden light shifted slowly to a dusky orange, casting long shadows through the carriage.
Aoi hummed quietly, her head gently swaying with the motion of the train.
Haruto watched her reflection — her smile soft, her eyes thoughtful.
There was something in the air that felt different.
Like the space between them had changed — not in a bad way, but in a quiet, fragile kind of way.
She broke the silence. "When we get back… it's back to normal, huh? Homework, classes, clubs…"
"Yeah," he said. "Normal."
But it didn't feel normal. Not after the trip, not after the moments they shared — walking through lantern-lit streets, laughing over ice cream, the almost-hand-hold under the temple gate.
Aoi turned toward him. "Hey… Haruto."
"Mm?"
"If I… if I said I didn't want it to end yet… would that sound silly?"
He looked at her. Her expression was half-hidden by the fading light, but her eyes were honest — uncertain, but bright.
"No," he said quietly. "I'd say I feel the same."
The words hung there, gentle but heavy.
Aoi smiled — a small, wistful smile — and leaned back against the seat. "Then let's pretend this ride lasts a little longer, okay?"
"Okay."
They didn't talk after that. They didn't need to.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Aoi slowly drifted to sleep, her head lightly resting against Haruto's shoulder.
He froze at first, then exhaled and smiled faintly.
Outside, the last light of day faded into deep blue.
Inside, the train rattled softly — carrying them forward, toward familiar streets and the ordinary days waiting ahead.
And though nothing was said, both of them knew:
Something had quietly changed on that ride home.