Shirogawa East Station was crowded. It felt as if half the town had decided to travel that morning.
Takashi waited in line, hands in the pockets of his black coat. He had styled his hair differently than usual,not like a detective going to work, but like someone going somewhere important.
Finally, he reached the counter.
“Good morning,” the clerk said politely.
“Good morning,” Takashi replied.
“Two tickets to Tokyo Station, please. The next available train.”
“Reserved or non- reserved seats?” she asked.
“Reserved,” Takashi answered without hesitation.
She printed the tickets and slid them across the counter.
“Two reserved seats to Tokyo Station. The train departs at 9:12 from platform three.”
Takashi took the tickets.
“Thank you.”
He glanced at his wristwatch.
Almost nine.
His eyes searched through the crowd, scanning every face.
I should’ve told him to wear something warmer. It’s freezing.
He rose slightly onto his toes, trying to see over the moving sea of people.
Then he spotted him.
Sota was walking through the crowd, hands in his pockets, black coat falling perfectly over his shoulders.
Takashi didn’t wait.
He moved toward him quickly, weaving between strangers until he was standing right in front of him.
Eye to eye.
For a brief second, the noise of the station faded.
Without thinking, Takashi caught his hand and pulled him forward, rushing through the crowd.
“Where are we going?” Sota finally asked, slightly breathless.
Takashi turned his head while still walking, a rare, boyish smile on his face.
“We’re going to Tokyo.”
“Tokyo?” Sota echoed, still letting himself be pulled through the crowd.
There was something in his eyes again... the same quiet shine from that night at Takashi’s apartment.
Takashi slowed down just enough to look at him properly.
“You said you always wanted to go,” he said softly.
“So today… I’m stealing you from them.”
For a moment, Sota didn’t say anything.
Takashi’s smile widened slightly as he checked the time again.
“Come on,” he added, gently pulling him forward.
“We have twelve minutes before the train leaves.”
Finally, they entered the train.
Takashi hadn’t let go of Sota’s hand the entire time.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
He only realized it once they were inside.
He turned his head toward him.
“It’s good you’re wearing warm clothes,” he said quietly.
“It’s freezing outside.”
Sota smiled faintly.
“Let’s find our seats.”
Takashi tightened his grip unconsciously before finally letting go.
Sota’s appearance drew attention without him even trying.
His deep black eyes shone under the soft train lights.
His longer blond hair was tied halfway back, loose strands falling gently over his pale face.
Takashi noticed the glances from other passengers.
Of course they were staring.
He found their seats, and a moment later, the train began to move.
“Why suddenly Tokyo?” Sota asked.
“You said you wanted to go,” Takashi replied.
He shrugged slightly.
“And… I wanted to be the one to take you.”
He held his gaze a second longer than necessary.
“You’ll see. It’s beautiful.”
“You can sleep if you want,” Takashi said quietly.
“It’s about an hour and a half.”
He looked out the window, watching the town fade behind them.
And everything they were leaving there.
Shirogawa grew smaller with every second.
For the first time in a long while, it felt like it couldn’t reach them.
He glanced at Sota.
For once, there was no tension in his face. No guarded expression. Just quiet.
Takashi felt something warm settle in his chest.
He smiled… and closed his eyes too.
Takashi gently tapped Sota’s shoulder.
“Sota… wake up. We’re almost there.”
His voice was soft, lowered.
Sota slowly opened his eyes and lifted his head, still half- asleep.
Takashi’s hand remained on his shoulder for a second longer than necessary.
“We’re almost there,” he repeated quietly.
The train slowed, then came to a stop.
“Come on,” Takashi said, standing up.
Sota straightened his posture, blinking as if trying to adjust to his surroundings, still not fully aware of where they were.
The train doors slid open, and a rush of cold air greeted them.
Sota stepped out first and then stopped.
The city stretched endlessly in front of them.
Glass towers reflected the pale winter light.
People moved with purpose, fast, confident, untouchable.
Tokyo didn’t wait for anyone.
Takashi glanced at Sota.
“Well…” he said softly.
“Welcome to Tokyo.”
For a brief second, Sota didn’t say anything. His eyes moved slowly, taking everything in the height of the buildings, the noise, the endless motion.
Takashi reached for his hand again.
Not even thinking about it.
He held it like he was afraid of losing him in the crowd.
The streets were crowded.
“This is Shibuya Crossing,”
Takashi explained as they stepped closer to the intersection.
People moved in every direction at once. Screens as tall as buildings flashed advertisements above them. The noise, the light, the motion...it was overwhelming.
Sota lifted his head, looking at the giant displays and glass towers around them.
He seemed almost stunned.
Takashi glanced at Sota with a gentle smile
“Come on,” he said gently.
“I’m hungry. I’ll take you to try takoyaki. You can’t come to Tokyo and not try takoyaki.”
“So this is why you wanted to come to Tokyo… and become an architect,”
Sota said softly, looking up at the buildings again.
“Now I understand. It’s beautiful.”
Takashi smiled.
“You see? I told you it was beautiful.”
Sota’s eyes moved from the glass towers back to him.
“It’s alive,” he added quietly.
Takashi felt a small warmth in his chest.
“Let’s eat first,” he said gently.
“Then I’ll show you the city.”
They had been walking along the Sumida River. The wind was cold, and Sota slipped his hands into his pockets.
“It would be much better if we came here in spring,” Takashi said lightly.
“But next time…”
“It’s perfect right now,”
Sota interrupted softly.
He looked at the water and exhaled deeply.
Takashi said quietly, almost to himself, a hint of unease in his voice.
“You could just stay here, you know...”
Before he could finish the sentence, his eyes widened slightly,
“Wait here,” he said quickly, walking toward a small food stall nearby.
A few moments later, he returned.
“Here. Try it,”
he said, offering it to Sota.
“It’s mitarashi dango...rice dumplings on a stick
I almost forgot about this.”
He smiled softly.
Sota took the rice dumpling from Takashi’s hand and took a bite.
“It’s good,” he said after swallowing.
Then his gaze drifted away, toward the river and the city stretching beyond it.
“This…” he said quietly, “this is the only life I’ve known since I was seven.”
He glanced at Takashi, his expression calm, but there was something heavy behind his eyes.
“Even if I could leave now… I wouldn’t know how to live any differently,”
Sota said, exhaling slowly.
“Why did you stay? Why didn’t you follow your dreams?”
He drew in a deep breath through his nose.
“The air here is different. It smells like freedom.”
Takashi inhaled too, letting the cold air fill his lungs.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“It really does.”
He took another bite of the dango, thoughtful.
“After my father’s death… after watching my mother suffer…”
He paused, his voice tightening slightly.
“Finding the people responsible became my obsession. My purpose.”
He tossed the empty stick into the trash and pulled a cigarette from his pocket.
“Suddenly, Tokyo felt very far away.”
He lit it, staring at the smoke as it rose into the cold air.
“And my dreams...Somewhere along the way, they disappeared.”
Takashi sat on the bench, watching Sota’s back as he looked at the river.
“Next time we’ll come in spring,”
Takashi said quietly.
“You’ll see. You’ll fall in love with Tokyo.”
Sota slipped his hands into his pockets and sat down beside him.
“I already have,” he said, smiling softly.
“Thank you for bringing me here.”
Takashi glanced at his watch.
“The train leaves in an hour. Do you want to see more of the city?”
Sota took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill his lungs.
“No. It’s nice here,” he said.
“Let’s sit a little longer.”
Takashi tossed his cigarette into the trash bin nearby and slid his hands into his coat pockets.
“Yes,”
he said, leaning back against the bench, his eyes fixed on the view in front of them.
“It’s really nice.”
They sat there in silence, staring at the view in front of them.
The sound of a phone ringing in Takashi’s pocket shattered the calm.
He frowned slightly and pulled it out.
“Yes, Kenta. What is it?”
“Where are you?”
Kenta’s voice sounded strange. Unsteady.
“I’m in Tokyo. Why? What happened?”
There was a pause. Then Kenta spoke again and his voice broke.
“It’s Ryo…”
Takashi stood up so suddenly the bench scraped behind him.
His eyes widened.
“What about Ryo?”
“He was in a car accident, Takashi.”
The words felt unreal.
“When? How is he?”
Takashi rushed out the questions.
“Kenta… is he alive?”
Sota stood up too, watching him carefully. He didn’t know what was happening, but he could see it wasn’t good.
Kenta was breathing heavily on the other end.
“It wasn’t an accident,” he said, his voice shaking.
“I’m sure of it. It was them.”
Takashi didn’t move.
Across the river, the city kept breathing.
Behind him, Sota was still standing in the cold.
Takashi’s hand slowly dropped to his side.
Kenta’s voice echoed in his head.
It wasn’t an accident.
Sota stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder.
He didn’t say anything.
Takashi stared at Sota’s fingers resting against his coat.
“They’re striking back,” he said quietly.
And suddenly, Tokyo didn’t feel free anymore.
