The cherry blossoms fell like snow across the Kamo River. Kaito watched them from the wooden engawa, his school uniform still crisp despite the afternoon heat. Seventeen and untested, he thought the world was something to be conquered, though sometimes at night he wondered if just surviving it would be enough.
Aoi sat beside him, not touching. Her silence had weight, the comfortable kind that exists between people who don't need to perform for each other. The faint scent of incense from the nearby temple mingled with spring air. She folded an origami crane with careful attention, each crease deliberate, though one wing refused to align perfectly and she smoothed it twice.
"My father says I'll study in London next year," Kaito said, not looking at her. His finger traced an invisible pattern on the wood.
Her hands paused briefly. "When did you find out?"
"Last night." He swallowed. "During dinner."
The crane took shape between her fingers. Neither mentioned what this meant for them. A breeze carried a petal to land between them.
From inside the traditional house, Kaito's mother called something about tea. Neither answered. The tatami rooms behind them held a childhood that already felt distant to Kaito. He imagined London streets, faceless foreign girls, a reputation built without family shadows. The thought both excited and terrified him.
"Will you... write to me?" Aoi finally asked, her voice catching slightly.
Kaito nodded, though he wasn't certain he would. The question felt childish to him, something from another era. They had smartphones, video calls. Writing letters seemed unnecessarily sentimental, though he couldn't bring himself to say this.
A petal landed on Aoi's dark hair. Kaito reached over and brushed it away, his fingers lingering longer than necessary. She looked up at him, her expression neither happy nor sad, just present. A tiny muscle in her cheek twitched.
"I'll come back successful," he said, making it sound like a promise rather than a boast.
"I'll still be here," she replied.
He smiled at her words, assuming it meant she'd wait for him. He didn't notice the small set of her shoulders, the quiet firmness in her eyes that suggested something else entirely—a certainty he would only recognize years later, in a neon-lit room with different company.
They watched an elderly couple walk slowly along the riverbank. The woman leaned slightly on her husband, their pace unhurried. A plastic bag dangled from the man's wrist. Kaito wondered if they had always been so careful with each other, or if time had taught them the value of support.
"Do you think we'll be like that?" he asked, surprising himself with the question. He immediately felt foolish for asking.
Aoi completed the crane before answering, her thumbnail pressing the final fold. "I think we'll be who we choose to be."
Her response irritated him slightly. It wasn't romantic enough, didn't contain the certainty he craved. Already, he wanted declarations, not wisdom. He shifted his weight, the wood warm beneath him.
The sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the engawa. In the distance, temple bells sounded, slightly out of sync. Kyoto existed in these moments, suspended between past and present, never quite surrendering to the future that Tokyo embraced.
Kaito stood abruptly. "Let's go somewhere."
"Where?" Aoi asked, placing the crane carefully beside her.
"Anywhere. I'm tired of sitting." His legs felt restless, like they needed to carry him forward, away.
She rose without argument, brushing invisible dust from her skirt. They left the crane behind, forgotten on the wooden platform. By morning, wind or rain would claim it.
They walked without destination, through narrow streets where machiya houses leaned like old friends against each other. A cat darted across their path, pausing to stare before disappearing into an alley. The smell of cooking rice wafted from an open window. Kaito walked slightly ahead, already practicing departure. Aoi matched his pace without effort, neither chasing nor falling behind.
Neither spoke of love. A glance held too long; fingers almost touching as they walked. That was enough to hint at something unexamined between them, and therefore fragile.
Cherry blossoms continued to fall around them, beautiful in their impermanence. Kaito thought them romantic. He didn't yet understand they were a warning.