The evening air was crisp as Mai stepped out of her apartment. The chill made her hug her jacket tighter around her body, the faint sounds of Tokyo's nightlife pressing in from the streets, but it was the silence that consumed her more than anything else. Her apartment felt quieter tonight than it had the night before, and she found herself standing at the door for an unusually long moment, just listening. A stillness was wrapping itself around her, and it felt heavy in a way she couldn't escape.
She glanced at her phone screen for the time. It was late enough that she probably wouldn't run into anyone she knew—just another walk to the conbini. The same routine, the same escape.
The last time she'd gone out was still fresh in her mind. She had hoped, for some reason she couldn't quite explain, to encounter him again. But he wasn't there. Now, that absence gnawed at her in ways she didn't quite understand.
With a resigned sigh, Mai pulled the door shut behind her. Her shoes tapped lightly against the pavement, each step a reminder of how far she had drifted from the person she once was. Yesterday's walk had been uncomfortable, disorienting, but a necessary one. And tonight, she hoped that another walk would offer her a semblance of normalcy.
She quickly brushed it aside. It was silly to dwell on something that brief.
As she walked, the lights of the nearby conbini finally came into view. Their bright glow felt strangely reassuring, a small haven in the middle of the city's dark expanse. Mai's heart skipped a beat at the thought of walking in, getting what she needed, and heading back home—no questions asked. She had done it a hundred times before.
She reached the doors and pushed them open.
Inside, the familiar scent of instant noodles and warm drinks filled the air. The buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead was steady, unchanging. It was almost the same as every other time she had walked into a conbini. But this time, something was different.
Mai walked briskly through the aisles, grabbing her usual: a bag of chips and a bottle of soda. She didn't linger on anything else. She just wanted to get it over with and go back to the comfort of her apartment.
But as she approached the counter, something tugged at her. She couldn't pinpoint it, but her eyes scanned the aisles a little more desperately, as though hoping to catch sight of him.
She let out a small breath of frustration, silently berating herself. She hadn't even realized she was hoping he'd be there until she was searching for him.
But he wasn't.
Her heart sank, but she told herself it didn't matter. She was being ridiculous, expecting some kind of connection with a stranger she barely knew. And anyway, she didn't need him to be there. She didn't need anything except the snacks in her hands and the quiet of her apartment.
Mai placed her items on the counter, and the cashier—a young woman with bright eyes and a tired smile—nodded as she rang up the items. There was no conversation, nothing that might make the silence feel uncomfortable. Mai appreciated it. She didn't need the pretense of pleasantries tonight. She simply wanted to get out.
The cashier gave her the total, and Mai fumbled for her wallet, handing over the exact change before taking her snacks and turning to leave.
As she reached for the door, the cool night air felt almost too sharp against her skin. There was something about the emptiness of the streets tonight that unsettled her. She felt exposed, like she was walking alone in a city that was too big to care whether she existed or not.
But it was familiar. The isolation was something she could handle.
The walk back was faster than the way there, as if she were actively trying to outrun the heavy thoughts that continued to follow her, despite her attempts to ignore them. She had a strange mix of emotions inside, and the more she tried to pin them down, the more slippery they became.
The absence of the man she had encountered the night before kept creeping into her thoughts, uninvited. It was as though his presence had left a mark—something she couldn't forget, something that had unsettled her in a way she couldn't explain.
But he wasn't there tonight. And perhaps, that was for the best. The last thing she needed right now was to make herself vulnerable to someone—especially someone like him.
She shoved the thought to the back of her mind as she reached the front door of her apartment. The familiar sound of the lock turning was a small comfort, and once she was inside, she sighed heavily, leaning against the door for a moment before she closed it behind her.
The apartment was quiet, just as it had been when she left. It didn't feel any less empty now than it had when she walked out earlier. But something was different. Something inside her felt… shifted. She couldn't place it, but she knew it wasn't just from the walk. It was the feeling of wanting something more than the isolation she had become so accustomed to.
She looked down at her phone, the screen lighting up with a new message from Kyo.
"Hey, I'm coming to grab you for our conbini run tomorrow morning. You ready for breakfast?"
Mai stared at the message for a moment. She hadn't expected that. Kyo had been the one to suggest the trip in passing, but now that it was actually happening, the thought of leaving the apartment for something as simple as breakfast felt strange. It was one thing to go out alone, but to go out with someone? That was a step she hadn't really thought about.
But it was Kyo. He was the kind of person who made things easy. He was always casual, always upbeat, and somehow, that comforted her. She smiled, typing out a quick response.
"Yeah, I'm in. See you then."
She set her phone down, feeling a small flicker of anticipation. Maybe tomorrow would be different. Maybe it would be a step toward something.
With a sigh, she moved to the couch and collapsed onto it, the weight of the day pulling her into a quiet fatigue. As she tried to focus on something—anything—on the TV, her mind kept drifting back to the absence of the man. She couldn't shake the feeling, and she didn't know why it mattered so much.
The next morning, Mai woke up to the soft hum of her alarm. It was a simple sound, one she had learned to ignore, but today it seemed to signal something else. Maybe it was the thought of leaving her apartment. Maybe it was the anticipation of seeing Kyo. Or maybe it was something else entirely.
She pulled herself out of bed, stretching and glancing at the time. She had a little while before Kyo would be arriving, but the thought of breakfast—and a trip to the conbini—had already begun to rattle around in her mind.
She quickly dressed in something comfortable and familiar, not bothering to put much effort into the look. There was something soothing about the routine of getting ready without the pressure of expectations.
When Kyo messaged again, confirming that he was on his way, Mai felt a mix of relief and nerves. She hadn't seen him much since their conversation about her writing. It would be good to catch up. It would be good to get out of her head, even if just for a little while.
She grabbed her jacket and headed out the door, ready for something different. Ready for something, she hoped, that would push her outside her comfort zone.
When Kyo arrived, he was his usual easy-going self, already talking about the conbini's breakfast offerings as he walked with Mai down the street. It felt almost too normal, too easy, but it was exactly what she needed.
"You're not getting your usual chips, are you?" Kyo teased with a grin as they neared the store.
Mai laughed, shaking her head. "I think I might try something different today."
As they reached the entrance, Mai's heart skipped a beat. She saw him before she even realized it—the same tall, disheveled figure, standing near the counter.
He wasn't looking at her, but she could feel it—a familiar presence. Her stomach turned, nerves jangling through her as she tried to play it cool.
But this time, Kyo wasn't oblivious.
"Hey, man," Kyo called out with a friendly grin, waving at the man who had been the source of her unease the night before.
The man turned, and his eyes locked with Kyo's, and as soon as their gazes met, a slow, almost lazy smile spread across the man's face.
"Hey, Kyo. Didn't expect to see you here."
Kyo stepped forward, extending his hand. "Good to see you, man," he said. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
Mai stood still, caught in the moment. She couldn't help but wonder if this was going to be another twist in her strange, unpredictable life.
She wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or anxious.
The man's gaze lingered on her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Her heart raced, and she struggled to regain her composure.
"Ah, I don't think we've met," Kyo added, looking over at Mai. "Mai, this is Gojo. He works with me at the publishing house."
Mai blinked, processing the name. Gojo. She hadn't expected this.
She opened her mouth to say something, but words failed her, leaving her standing there, awkward and flushed, as the man—Gojo—gave her a small, knowing smile.