The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of dewdrops and fresh earth as Kozakura stepped out of his house. Hanamura always had a quiet beauty in the early hours—soft sunlight filtering through the trees, the distant hum of cicadas, and the occasional chatter of shopkeepers opening their stores.
He hadn't planned to go anywhere in particular, but his feet led him naturally toward the bookstore.
As he pushed open the familiar wooden door, the bell chimed overhead, announcing his arrival. The scent of paper and ink wrapped around him, instantly putting him at ease. He had always liked this place—books lined every shelf, stacked neatly or sometimes in little leaning towers where space was tight. It was a haven of stories, a place where the world outside faded for just a little while.
"Kozakura!"
A familiar voice made him turn.
Near the entrance stood Sakuragi Hiyori, clutching a steaming cup of tea. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw him.
"I thought I might find you here," she said with a soft smile.
He raised an eyebrow, amused. "Am I that predictable?"
Hiyori giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "A little. You seem like the type who finds peace in books."
He couldn't argue with that. "And what about you? Here to find your next read?"
She nodded, then held up a book. "Actually, I was hoping you'd recommend something. You seem like the kind of person who knows all the hidden gems."
For a moment, Kozakura was caught off guard. No one had ever asked him for a recommendation before. It was a small thing, but it made his chest feel unexpectedly warm.
"Alright," he said, scanning the shelves. "What kind of story do you like?"
Hiyori tilted her head thoughtfully. "Something slow and comforting. The kind that makes you feel at home."
Kozakura's fingers brushed over the spines of several books before pulling one out. "This one."
She took it from his hands, running her fingers along the cover. "A Thousand Evenings... It sounds poetic."
"It is. It's about two people who meet by chance and slowly become part of each other's daily lives. There's no rush, no dramatic twists—just warmth, like sitting by a fireplace on a cold evening."
Hiyori smiled, hugging the book to her chest. "That sounds perfect."
They spent the next half-hour browsing, discussing their favorite stories, and sharing small, quiet moments of laughter. It felt effortless, as though they had been friends for much longer than just a few days.
Eventually, Hiyori tugged her scarf a little tighter and turned to him. "Thank you, Kozakura. This town is already starting to feel like home."
He met her gaze, and for the first time in a long while, he didn't hesitate before replying.
"I'm glad."
As they stepped out of the bookstore together, the autumn wind rustled the golden leaves around them. Hanamura remained as peaceful as ever, but somehow, today felt a little different—like the start of something quietly beautiful.