There is something sacred about the return to routine.
Not because it is unremarkable, but because after chaos, after the whirlwind of emotions and confrontations and confessions, the simple rhythm of life feels like a quiet prayer answered.
And for Shinichi, Hinoka, and Koizumi, the first week after that fateful dinner felt like stepping barefoot onto solid ground after swimming for too long.
The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of Shinichi's room in thin, golden ribbons, cutting across his desk and resting softly on his half-opened notebook.
The ticking of the small wall clock blended with the distant hum of city traffic, and his kettle began to hiss gently.
He was already dressed in a dark cardigan over a white T-shirt, backpack slung lazily over the back of his chair, waiting to be taken.
He reached for his phone and checked the time—7:32 AM.
A message had arrived a minute ago.
Hinoka:Don't forget your presentation slides, idiot.
He smiled. Of course she remembered. She always remembered everything—even the things he preferred to forget. That was Hinoka.
Since becoming his girlfriend, she had only grown more watchful—not in the possessive way, but like someone tending a garden, mindful of every leaf and bloom.
He typed a quick reply.
Shinichi:Don't forget your umbrella. Looks like It's gonna rain later.
He turned back to his desk and slipped the USB drive into his pocket. His slides were ready.
His script, though still awkward in some transitions, was passable. All he needed now was to show up and not panic. He'd done harder things, after all. He'd told two girls he loved only one.
As he stepped out of his apartment, the door to his right opened at almost the exact same time. Hinoka emerged, hair tied in her usual high ponytail, headphones slung around her neck, one hand adjusting her windbreaker.
"Synced again," she said, raising an eyebrow. "We're going to start a rumor if we keep walking out together."
"Let them talk," Shinichi said with a grin. "We'll give them something to talk about."
Hinoka flushed lightly but gave him a soft punch on the arm. "Smooth."
They walked in comfortable silence down the hall, taking the elevator together, descending the five floors with only the faint mechanical whirring to fill the air.
When they exited into the open street, the sky was a pale gray, veiled with the kind of clouds that threatened drizzle but held back, for now.
At the bus stop, someone was already waiting—headphones in, arms crossed, standing with the quiet detachment of someone trying to keep her distance while not appearing cold.
Koizumi.
Her eyes flicked toward them as they approached, and she removed one earbud.
"Morning," she said, voice neutral but not cold.
"Yo," Hinoka said casually, flipping her ponytail behind her shoulder. "You finished that analysis for Mr. Takamura's class?"
"Barely," Koizumi muttered. "I had to rewrite the conclusion twice. I kept sounding like I hated capitalism too much."
Hinoka smirked. "So nothing's changed."
Their exchange was surprisingly normal, like an old rhythm rediscovered. Shinichi noticed the difference immediately—there was still a thin layer of distance between the two girls, but it was no longer sharp-edged. No longer bleeding.
He greeted Koizumi with a polite nod, and she returned it—short, sharp, but present.
The bus arrived with a groan of brakes, and the three of them climbed aboard together, taking seats near the back. The ride to campus was fifteen minutes long, and each of them slipped into their preferred habits.
Koizumi stared out the window, earphones back in, tapping her knee to an unheard rhythm. Hinoka scrolled through her phone, likely reviewing notes.
Shinichi tried to rehearse his opening line for the presentation, mouthing words under his breath.
To an outsider, they looked like three classmates who happened to ride the same route. But within their silent triangle was a history deep and tangled—one now cautiously balanced.
Campus was alive when they arrived. Students darted between buildings, shielding themselves from the first hints of rain, umbrellas blooming like flowers across the courtyard.
The library's large glass windows reflected the sky like pools of gray water, and the scent of wet pavement rose steadily as drops began to fall.
As they walked toward their respective classrooms, Koizumi peeled off first.
"See you in ethics," she said simply, tugging her hood up.
Hinoka gave a small wave. Shinichi watched her go—her stride was purposeful, but not hurried. She seemed calmer lately. Not happy, not yet, but at least… whole.
"You should go," Hinoka said, nudging him. "You've got five minutes before your time slot."
Shinichi looked down at her. "You'll come watch?"
"I'll sneak in near the end," she said. "Got to make sure you don't embarrass me."
"I'm the one who should be worried about being embarrassing," he muttered.
Hinoka smiled. "You'll do great. I know you will."
She stood on tiptoe and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then spun around before anyone could see, jogging off toward her building.
Shinichi stood there for a moment, flushed but smiling, and then sprinted toward his own lecture hall.
The rest of the day passed with the steady momentum of university life. Lectures, discussions, coffee breaks at the vending machine near the courtyard.
The presentation went well—Shinichi didn't stutter once, and the professor even nodded appreciatively at his final point.
He knew Hinoka had watched the last few minutes because he'd caught her eyes in the back row just as he was wrapping up, and she gave him a subtle thumbs-up.
At lunch, the three of them shared a table under one of the large umbrellas outside the cafeteria. Rain misted the edges of the canopy, but it was pleasant—the kind of weather that encouraged slower conversations.
Koizumi picked at a salmon bento while Hinoka chewed on onigiri. Shinichi sipped canned coffee, eyes occasionally drifting to both of them.
They talked about trivial things—group projects, new anime, a rumor about a professor getting caught sleeping in his office. For the first time in weeks, nothing felt fragile.
It was Koizumi who surprised them when she said, "I'm thinking of joining the theater club."
Hinoka blinked. "You? Stage fright Koizumi?"
"Backstage," she clarified. "Lighting and design. I don't want to perform. I just… want something that isn't studying and overthinking."
Shinichi smiled. "That sounds perfect for you."
Koizumi shrugged, but there was a faint, genuine curl of pride in her lips. "We'll see."
As the rain continued to fall in soft sheets, they remained under the umbrella a while longer, listening to its rhythm and letting the conversation drift naturally. There was no urgency. No invisible clock counting down to a confrontation.
Just them. Three friends. One couple. One story still unfolding.
Later that night, back in the apartment building, Shinichi sat on the couch in his unit, legs folded under him, his laptop resting on the table. A knock at the door roused him.
When he opened it, Hinoka stood there, a box of leftover karaage in her hands.
"I made too much," she said casually. "Want some?"
He stepped aside and let her in.
They sat together on the couch, eating with chopsticks from the same box, watching a rerun of a drama they'd both already seen.
After a while, Hinoka leaned her head on his shoulder.
"I'm glad," she said quietly.
"About what?"
"That things feel… normal again."
He nodded, brushing a kiss into her hair. "Me too."
Outside, the rain finally stopped. The world, scrubbed clean, waited quietly beneath the stars.