The streets of Aotocho were dead quiet—quieter than earlier, when he had walked them with Koyori. This was the kind of silence that made his thoughts seem louder than they actually were. But he welcomed it. It was the kind of peace he could only ever find in nature.
"It's been six years since I've last seen you, Naomi... I really hope you're doing alright, wherever you are."
The fence around Makiko's residence wasn't very tall, so he quickly leapt over it, careful not to let his presence be known. He made his way around the right side of the house, where a metal ladder led up to the rooftop.
By the time he emerged onto the roof, the chill of the night bit at his skin. He had given Koyori his sweater earlier, so now he had to deal without it.
Makiko was sitting near the edge, knees pulled close to her chest, wrapped tightly in that familiar navy fur blanket, and her mauveine hair blowing gently in the breeze.
She didn't flinch when he appeared. She'd probably heard him coming long before he reached the top.
"You took your sweet time."
"Had to admire the peace that comes with this time of night."
Makiko gave a soft scoff, but he saw the corner of her mouth twitch. Okamura walked over and sat beside her, folding his arms over his knees as he stared out at the quiet streets of Aotocho. Neither of them spoke for a while, until Okamura broke the silence.
"You're always up here when things go bad."
"This is the only place no one can find me," she said quietly. "Except you."
"Damn... Sometimes it feels like I could almost fall for you, you know?"
She rested her head on her knees, smiling gently. "Oh really?"
"Mhmm... But I already found someone I truly love."
"Koyori, right?"
"And it seems like I did something to piss her off... but I don't know what."
"You're always so oblivious some of the time, Taru," she said, lifting her head and resting it on his shoulder. "All I can say is, if you don't tell her how you truly feel, you'll end up losing her—just like how you'll lose me a few years from now."
He didn't respond.
"Can we stay like this for a while?" Makiko asked, her eyes closing.
-----
Okamura hadn't slept since the meeting with Makiko the night before, but he didn't mind. He lay in the sofa, head buried deep in the cushions, when his phone buzzed beside him.
"Didn't think you'd actually stay until I fell asleep."
He blinked at the screen.
"Didn't think you'd fall asleep on my shoulders."
Her reply came almost instantly.
"Shut up!"
Then, a moment after...
"But thanks again. Seriously."
Shirtless, fatigued, and hungry, he slowly rose from the sofa and trudged into the kitchen, hoping to find leftovers his mother might've left—or something to cook from scratch. But before he could decide, the sharp chime of the doorbell snapped him out of his thought.
He turned toward the sound, brows furrowed. And with hesitant steps, he approached the door and peered through the peephole.
Koyori stood outside, her petite frame covered in an oversized black shirt—the one he had gifted her. The sheer fabric hinted at her delicate figure, and it hung low enough to obscure the short tights underneath.
Okamura froze, breath hitching at the sight. Then, just as quickly, regaining his composure, he unlocked the door and pulled it open. Their eyes met, but Koyori immediately looked away, a blush blooming across her face.
Before he could think, his hand shot out, grabbing her arm and pulling her inside. The door slammed shut behind them, its echo ringing through the house.
"Why are you here so early?!" he demanded, frustration laced in his voice.
Koyori flinched, her wide eyes flickering up to meet his. Her voice came out as soft as a whisper.
"Calm down, Kintarō. You're hurting me."
She winced in pain, lifting her arm slightly. His eyes dropped to his hand—still gripping her tightly.
"I—sorry."
"Why do you always show up so early, Koyori?" he asked, his tone more controlled, but still edged with frustration. "What if the neighbours saw you?"
"So what if they did?"
"What do you mean, so what?! If they saw you like this... what do you think they'd say?!"
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as the realization of what he was implying dawned on her.
"What... are you saying, Kintarō?" she asked, her tone sharper than before.
"It just looks... bad, okay? People might get the wrong idea about us. Especially if you're dressed like that."
Koyori and Okamura stood in the middle of the entryway, the silence between them awkward and tense. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something—anything—but then it all crashed down on him.
"Koyori... please... that's not what I meant."
She didn't answer.
She simply turned toward the door.
Instinctively, he reached out, grabbing her hand before it touched the doorknob. Her body tensed. She spun back, yanking her hand free.
"Please, Koyori... listen to me! That's not what I meant! You know I—"
"I do know what you mean, Kintarō!" she snapped, her voice sharp and trembling with emotion.
"I tried with you, Kintarō. So many times. I did everything I could to make sure you were okay—but you kept lying to me!"
Okamura stood frozen, her words slicing through him as her eyes pierced through him with unshed tears.
"Koyori... Please, don't... cry for me. I'm not... worth your tears!"
"We never act like a couple. We never spend time alone. You don't talk to me like you used to. You're quick to be by everyone else's side and run yourself into the ground, but you never consider your own health. Your own happiness." She shook her head as a single tear slipped from her eye.
"Have you ever once considered that I want you to by my side? That maybe I need you, too? Not to mention what you said to me last night! How could you tell me that you only want me... for my body?"
A heavy pause followed.
"I'm done, Kintarō. If you want someone like her, then I'm not the girl you're looking for."
She pulled away, her expression hardening into something close to disgust. Just like everyone else on that dreadful day. His heart froze at the mere implication of her words. His hands instinctively clenched his chest, eyes falling to the floor.
"That's... not true."
Then, with a strained voice, he confessed—just like that night when she had first confessed to him.
But, she turned without saying another word.
"That's not true! I love you, Koyori! I love you to the point where it hurts. Every time I compare myself to you. Every time I admire your delicate features. Even when you talk to other people... my heart cries! I know I haven't been the best boyfriend or been the most communicative, but I can do better! I know I can do better if you give me one more chance!"
The soft thud of her footsteps echoed through the entryway, but Okamura didn't move. He couldn't. His body refused to chase after her, just like the night before.
"You're the only thing holding me together at this point, Koyori," he shouted, gripping his chest tighter. "You're my only reason for living. You're the only reason I smile. Every time I'm around you, I want to open up. I want to tell you what I've been through..."
For a second, he thought she might turn around—to look at him. Or even to say something. But she didn't.
"...but there are things I can't say. Things I wish I could explain, but I... just… can't."
"I'm sorry, Koyori," he said, his voice quieter this time around. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I don't want to mess this up with you..."
Koyori's hand reached for the doorknob with trembling fingers.
Okamura stood there, eyes fixed on her back, silently begging for a reaction—for anything.
But she didn't look at him.
She didn't say a word.
The door creaked open.
Then, quietly, with the smallest exhale, she stepped out, leaving him standing there.
He leaned against the wall, slowly sliding down until he sat on the floor, head in his hands. And for the first time in a long time, Okamura let himself cry.
「また関係が壊れてしまった.」