The melonpan shop was tucked into a narrow alley Evan would have never found on his own.

  It didn’t even have a sign — just the smell of freshly baked bread wafting out into the street, sweet and buttery, stopping them in their tracks.

  Aki stepped up to the tiny window and ordered two melonpans, handing one to Evan with a triumphant grin.

  “You have to eat it while it’s still warm,” she said, holding her own bread carefully with both hands.

  Evan bit into his, and immediately, his eyes widened.

  “This is dangerous,” he said, half-laughing, crumbs falling from his mouth. “Like — life-altering dangerous.”

  Aki laughed so hard she nearly dropped hers. “I told you!”

  They wandered down the alley, melonpans in hand, nibbling and chatting like old friends.

  The streets around them were quieter now — a tangle of old buildings, tiny shrines squeezed between shops, and vending machines glowing softly in the gathering dusk.

  A light breeze picked up, fluttering Aki’s dress and tossing Evan’s hair into his eyes. He shook it away, grinning at her.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “You know,” he said, “this is probably the best day I’ve had in months.”

  Aki looked up at him, surprised — then smiled, soft and real.

  “Me too,” she said.

  They finished their melonpans on a low stone wall, watching a group of kids chase each other with sparklers nearby.

  It was the kind of perfect, simple moment Evan always tried — and usually failed — to capture in photos. A moment that didn’t need anything big or loud. Just being there, together.

  He opened his mouth to say something — he didn’t even know what — when a fat raindrop splattered onto the back of his hand.

  He looked up. The sky had darkened while they weren’t paying attention, heavy clouds rolling in fast.

  “Oh no,” Aki said, laughing. “I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

  “Neither did I,” Evan admitted.

  The rain came harder, sudden and messy. People scattered for cover, umbrellas popping open like flowers.

  Aki squealed and grabbed Evan’s hand without thinking, pulling him toward the nearest awning.

  They ducked under it, shoulder to shoulder, soaked and breathless.

  Evan looked down at their clasped hands — small, warm, alive — and felt something jolt deep inside him.

  Aki noticed too. She let go quickly, tucking her hand behind her back, cheeks pink.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, pushing wet hair from her face.

  “Don’t be,” Evan said. His voice was lower than he meant. “I liked it.”

  They stood there, the rain drumming steadily above them, the world around them blurring into a watercolor of neon lights and silver streets.

  Evan couldn’t remember the last time he felt so completely present.

  Not thinking about tomorrow.

  Not thinking about how little time he had left in Tokyo.

  Just this. Her. Right now.

  Aki turned to him, her expression unreadable.

  For one heartbeat, Evan thought — maybe hoped — she was going to step closer.

  Instead, she smiled and said, “Come on. I know a shortcut to the station.”

  He followed her again, heart pounding, rain soaking through his shirt, shoes squelching with every step — and still, he felt lighter than he had in years.

  Because somehow, even in a city of millions, even caught in a storm, he had found someone he didn’t want to let go.

  Not now.

  Maybe not ever.