The day of Sakura's departure dawned clear and cool, the skies over Tokyo painted in soft shades of dawn. Her suitcase stood by the door, carefully packed with essentials, sketchbooks, and the framed photograph Haruka had sent her.
As she prepared to leave, Sakura couldn't help but feel a surge of nerves. The decision to go to Berlin had been hers, but now that the moment was here, the weight of it pressed against her. She wasn't just visiting Haruka; she was stepping into a new phase of her life—a leap of faith, both for her art and for their relationship.
Before leaving, she stopped by her parents' house.
Her father greeted her with his usual reserved demeanor, but there was something softer in his expression. Her mother had prepared tea, as she always did when Sakura visited.
"You're really going to Berlin," her mother said, her tone carrying a mix of pride and concern.
"I am," Sakura replied, meeting her gaze.
Her father spoke next, surprising her. "It's not easy to go so far for something you believe in. That takes courage."
The words warmed Sakura in a way she hadn't expected. They weren't effusive or sentimental, but they were enough. Her parents had come a long way in understanding her, just as she had in understanding herself.
The flight to Berlin felt both endless and fleeting. Sakura spent most of the journey sketching—the lines on her paper a way to calm her mind. She drew fragments of her memories with Haruka: their first meeting on the art school steps, their late-night conversations, their shared mornings in the tiny Tokyo apartment.
By the time the plane touched down, her nerves had shifted to anticipation.
Haruka was waiting for her at the arrivals terminal, her face lighting up the moment she saw Sakura. She pushed through the crowd, weaving past travelers with an urgency that made Sakura's heart swell.
And then they were there, face to face.
"You're here," Haruka said, her voice almost disbelieving.
"I'm here," Sakura replied, her smile wide.
Haruka pulled her into a tight embrace, and for a moment, the chaos of the airport faded away.
Berlin was everything Sakura had imagined and nothing like she expected. The city pulsed with creativity and history, its streets alive with murals, street performers, and a cacophony of languages. Haruka led her through winding neighborhoods, pointing out her favorite cafes, galleries, and parks.
"This is where I come to think," Haruka said one afternoon as they walked along the Spree River. "It reminds me of Tokyo, but it's... different. Freer, in a way."
Sakura understood what she meant. There was a rawness to Berlin, a sense of possibility that felt both exhilarating and overwhelming.
Over the next few weeks, they fell into a new rhythm. Sakura found herself sketching more than she had in months, inspired by the city's contrasts. Haruka's photography flourished as well, her work taking on a new depth now that they were together again.
Their love, tested by distance and uncertainty, felt stronger now. It wasn't perfect—they still argued, still stumbled—but it was real.
One evening, as they walked home from a gallery opening, Haruka turned to Sakura.
"I've been thinking," she began, her tone hesitant. "About us. About the future."
Sakura's heart quickened.
"What if we stayed here? Not forever, but for a while. We could share a studio, work on something bigger together."
The idea took Sakura by surprise. She had thought of Berlin as temporary, a visit. But now, looking into Haruka's hopeful eyes, she felt the pull of something more.
"Let me think about it," she said, her voice steady.
And she did. Over the next days and weeks, she imagined what their life could be—two artists creating together, navigating a new city, building a future that was entirely their own.
By the time summer arrived, Sakura had her answer.
"Yes," she told Haruka one morning over coffee. "Let's stay. Let's make this our new beginning."
Haruka's grin was brighter than the Berlin sun.
Outside, the city hummed with life, a place of endless reinvention. Inside their shared apartment, their story continued—a love shaped by distance, by challenge, and by the courage to keep choosing each other.
Tokyo had been
their origin. Berlin was their horizon. Together, they were unstoppable.