The air smelled different after rain.
Clean. Cooler. As if the city had been rinsed of noise.
Reine Aoyama walked beside Reuko Hanazawa, neither of them in a hurry to leave the shrine grounds. The stone path was still wet, reflecting the dim glow of lanterns that had flickered on as evening approached.
Their footsteps echoed lightly.
"So…" Reuko said, breaking the silence, "do you come here often?"
Reine shook his head. "Only when I need to clear my head."
She smiled, looking ahead. "Then I'm glad I came today."
He glanced at her, unsure what to say.
They stopped near the torii gate. The street beyond it was quieter now, rain having driven most people indoors. A faint breeze passed between them, lifting the ends of her hair.
"…I didn't expect to see you again," Reuko admitted softly.
"Me neither," Reine said. Then, after a pause, "But I thought about it."
She turned to him. "You did?"
"…About that night," he added quickly. "The festival."
Her expression warmed, as if he'd said something precious without realizing it.
"I kept wondering," she said, "if it was strange to remember someone I'd just met."
"It's not strange," Reine replied. "I remembered too."
The words settled gently between them.
---
They walked a little farther, stopping at a vending machine humming quietly near the shrine exit.
"Do you want something?" Reine asked.
Reuko hesitated. "Only if you're getting one too."
He nodded, inserting coins. He chose tea. She chose lemon soda.
When he handed it to her, their fingers brushed.
It was brief. Accidental.
But neither of them pulled away immediately.
"…Thank you," she said.
"You're welcome."
They sat on a low stone wall nearby, drinks unopened.
Reuko traced the rim of her bottle with her thumb. "You're quiet," she said gently. "But not in a way that feels distant."
Reine looked down at his hands. "I don't talk much unless I feel comfortable."
She smiled at that.
"I think," she said, "that makes words feel more important."
He opened his drink, listening to the soft hiss. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"You seem calm," he said. "But I feel like you think a lot."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"…Is it that obvious?"
"A little."
She laughed quietly. "I overthink everything. Especially people."
There was something vulnerable in the way she said it.
Reine found himself saying, "You don't have to overthink around me."
The moment stretched.
Reuko looked at him—not surprised, but thoughtful. Then she nodded.
"…I'll try."
---
The sky deepened into evening blues. Streetlights flickered on one by one.
"Which way are you heading?" Reuko asked.
"The station," Reine replied. "You?"
"…Same."
They stood.
This time, they walked closer than before.
At the station entrance, the sound of arriving trains filled the air. People moved past them, but Reine felt strangely separated from the crowd—like the world had narrowed down to just the space between them.
"My train's coming soon," Reuko said reluctantly.
"…Mine too."
Another almost-goodbye.
Reuko shifted her bag on her shoulder. "Aoyama-kun."
"Yes?"
"Next time," she said, voice soft but steady, "let's not leave it to coincidence."
His heart skipped.
"…You mean—"
She reached into her bag, pulling out her phone, holding it out with a shy smile.
"If that's okay."
Reine took it, hands steady despite everything inside him.
"Yeah," he said. "I'd like that."
They exchanged contacts.
When her train arrived, Reuko stepped back onto the platform, turning once more.
"I'm glad," she said, "that summer brought me to that festival."
Reine watched as the doors closed.
"…Me too," he whispered.
The train pulled away.
This time, the quiet didn't feel lonely.
It felt like a beginning.