The next morning, Evan stared at his phone for a full five minutes before typing out a message.

  Evan: Good morning! It’s Evan — ramen disaster guy. Hope your shoes survived. Would you like to meet today?

  He hit send before he could overthink it.

  To his relief, the reply came quickly.

  Aki: Morning! Shoes survived, barely. I’d love to. Want to explore somewhere quieter today?

  Evan smiled, already reaching for his camera bag.

  They met at Nezu Shrine in the late morning, under a sky painted soft blue and streaked with thin clouds. It was a world away from the chaos of Shibuya — here, the city seemed to hold its breath.

  Evan spotted Aki standing near the entrance, next to the towering stone torii gate. She wore a simple navy dress and carried a small crossbody bag. When she waved at him, her whole face lit up.

  “Hey,” Evan said, slightly breathless — from the walk, he told himself. Not from how beautiful she looked in the gentle light.

  “Hey,” she echoed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  They started along the shrine path, passing rows of vivid red torii gates that wound like a tunnel through the trees. The air smelled of pine needles, moss, and something ancient.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “It’s beautiful here,” Evan said, lifting his camera instinctively.

  “It’s one of my favorite places,” Aki said. “Less touristy. It feels… quieter inside.”

  “Like it’s holding secrets,” he said.

  She smiled at that. “Exactly.”

  As they walked, they slipped into an easy rhythm, talking about small things — favorite foods, books they loved, strange travel stories. Evan told her about getting lost in a maze of alleys in Istanbul and ending up at a family’s dinner table. Aki told him about the time she accidentally entered an underground jazz club in Kyoto and stayed all night, even though she had an early class the next morning.

  Evan noticed how she listened — really listened — her head slightly tilted, her attention soft but fully there. It made him want to keep talking, keep sharing.

  At a small side shrine, they paused. Aki pulled out a coin and tossed it into the offering box, clapping her hands together in prayer.

  Evan hesitated, then copied her awkwardly.

  “What did you wish for?” he asked, once they stepped back onto the path.

  She looked at him, eyes bright. “If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

  He laughed. “Fair enough.”

  A moment passed, then she added quietly, “But I think… maybe it’s already starting to.”

  He met her gaze, heart beating faster.

  They wandered to a tiny tea house hidden in the back gardens, where they sat under a canopy of wisteria vines and shared a pot of matcha. Evan snapped a few photos — Aki laughing over a badly balanced tray, the pale green tea steaming between them, the dappled sunlight on her hair.

  He didn’t know it yet, but years later, those photos would still make his heart ache with longing.

  As the afternoon wore on, they left the shrine and meandered through the quiet neighborhoods nearby. Old wooden houses leaned gently against each other, and cats dozed on stone walls.

  “Have you ever lived anywhere else?” Evan asked, curious.

  Aki shook her head. “Tokyo’s my home. But… sometimes I wonder what it would be like. To start over somewhere completely different. To be someone new.”

  He nodded, understanding more than she knew.

  “I think about that too,” he said. “All the places I go — sometimes I wonder if I’m running toward something or running away.”

  Aki looked at him carefully, as if seeing a layer he hadn’t meant to show.

  “You don’t seem like you’re running,” she said gently. “You seem like you’re looking.”

  Evan felt something settle in his chest — something warm and unfamiliar.

  “Maybe,” he said softly. “Maybe I was looking for you.”

  The words slipped out before he could stop them.

  Aki blinked, her cheeks flushing the softest pink.

  Neither of them spoke for a moment. The only sound was the distant hum of the city, far beyond the trees.

  Finally, she smiled — small, secretive, but dazzling.

  “Come on,” she said, nudging him playfully. “I know a place that makes the best melonpan in Tokyo.”

  He followed her, thinking that if getting lost always led to this, he never wanted to be found.