Goodnight, See You Tomorrow: Chapter 3

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Before heading back to the apartment, Tsugumi stopped by the park where he had first met Sakutaro. Sitting on the same bench where they had eaten sandwiches, he gazed up at the faintly glowing moon hanging in the night sky.

I should go home. But there’s no one waiting for me.

The thought unraveled him, leaving him slack like a loose string. So there’s no reason to rush, is there?

A fluttering white ribbon danced across his field of vision—a cabbage butterfly. It floated gently through the night air and landed softly on his shoulder. Butterflies aren’t supposed to be active at night. What if it decides to use me as its resting spot? But before he could dwell on the thought, it fluttered off again, its unpredictable flight drawing Tsugumi’s eyes side to side.

He extended a finger, and the butterfly, as if drawn to nectar, perched lightly on it. Its delicate wingbeats seemed to scatter an invisible, powdery elegance. For a moment, the butterfly’s natural beauty unraveled the tension in Tsugumi’s chest.

As he smiled faintly, the crunch of footsteps on gravel startled the butterfly, sending it flitting away. Tsugumi turned to see Sakutaro standing in the deepening indigo of the night.

“Sorry, I saw you as I was passing by. Is it okay if I join you?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Sakutaro murmured a quick “Thanks” and sat down beside him.

“How long have you been here?” Tsugumi asked.

“For a little while.”

“You could’ve said something.”

“I didn’t want to scare off the butterfly.”

“Oh... it was pretty friendly, wasn’t it?”

As Tsugumi spoke, Sakutaro reached out slowly.

“What is it?”

“Were you crying?”

Tsugumi blinked.

“There’s a trace left,” Sakutaro said, his clean fingertips tracing lightly from the corner of Tsugumi’s eye to his cheek.

“Something got in my eye earlier,” Tsugumi muttered, lowering his head to hide the embarrassing evidence.

“It must’ve hurt if it made you cry,” Sakutaro said simply. Silence fell between them.

It must’ve hurt if it made you cry.

The words felt like something a child would accept with a simple nod. Yeah, Tsugumi almost wanted to agree aloud.

“You attract living things, don’t you?” Sakutaro said suddenly.

“Huh?”

“The butterfly. And remember how MuuMuu warmed up to you before? You’ve got some kind of aura.”

“I think it’s just coincidence. Speaking of MuuMuu, how’s he doing?”

“She ran away again and had to be caught. That cat’s always trying to escape.”

“Even though they spoil her so much?”

“Maybe that kind of thing doesn’t matter to instinct. Like a teenager loved by their parents who still steals a motorcycle and runs off. I used to understand that kind of rebellion, but now I just think, ‘Don’t steal other people’s stuff.’ I hope MuuMuu gets to that stage someday.”

Tsugumi burst into laughter. “Sakutaro-san, I didn’t expect you to know such an old song. Fifteen’s Night, really?”

“It’s a staple for the 40-to-60-somethings in management now. I’ve heard it plenty in karaoke sessions.”

“Really? Oh, that reminds me—I learned a song from my late grandmother. I was a kid, so I don’t remember the lyrics, but maybe you know it.”

Humming the melody with a “la-la-la,” Tsugumi watched Sakutaro close his eyes and cross his arms thoughtfully.

“Any idea what era it’s from?”

“Uh, let’s see. I was about ten, and my grandma was eighty at the time. So, if she were alive now, she’d be 105. It must’ve been popular during her youth—”

“Sorry, that’s a bit beyond me.”

The quick response made both of them laugh. Feeling nostalgic, Tsugumi continued humming the fragment of the song, even though the melody was shaky. When their eyes met, Sakutaro was watching him with a thoughtful expression.

“I think I get why MuuMuu and the butterfly like you.”

“Huh?”

“Being around you is comforting.”

“Wha—where did that come from?”

“You know how some people make you feel completely at ease, even when you’re just chatting about nothing? I feel like I could talk to you forever, or even just sit in silence and feel comfortable. There are plenty of fun people to talk to, but someone you can feel at ease with, even without words? That’s rare.”

Tsugumi felt his cheeks growing steadily warmer and lowered his head to hide his embarrassment.

"Uh, thanks. I feel at ease when I’m with you too, Sakutaro-san.”

It was the truth. Being around Sakutaro made Tsugumi feel like a slightly better version of himself. It had been so long since he’d had an unguarded, lighthearted conversation with someone, and he could feel warmth spreading across the bridge of his nose. I must be really starved for connection, he thought, teasing himself. How pathetic. As he looked down in embarrassment, Sakutaro spoke.

“They say crying helps relieve stress.”

Tsugumi glanced at him.

“A psychiatrist once told me there’s no point in forcing yourself to hold it in. You know, all that stuff about always smiling or never saying anything negative—it’s kind of ridiculous when you think about it. I mean, no one’s built to live like that.”

Sakutaro stared into the night as he spoke. Tsugumi found it surprising how knowledgeable he seemed on the subject, given how little he seemed the type to frequent mental health clinics. Maybe he had a friend who did.

“Though I guess it’s silly for me to say that to someone who writes about people’s feelings for a living.”

“It’s not silly. If anything, maybe I write because I don’t understand them.”

At least, that was true for him. Tsugumi spent his time crafting stories as if trying to reach out to the nebulous, unnamed emotions inside him. Every time he thought he’d found an answer, it would crumble after a while, leaving him to gather the pieces and try again. Sometimes a new answer would emerge—other times, everything would fall apart and turn to dust. Those were the moments that left him utterly drained.

“Look, that one fell asleep,” Sakutaro said, pointing into the night.

In a bed of azaleas stripped of their flowers, a small white shape was curled up: the same cabbage butterfly from earlier, its wings now gently closed.

“Do butterflies dream, I wonder?”

“Who knows? I hope it’s a good dream.”

Sakutaro’s eyes narrowed with a gentle expression, and Tsugumi felt his own emotions relax in response.

“I’d like to have a good dream too, for once,” Tsugumi murmured, the candid thought slipping out before he could stop it.

“You will.”

“Do you think so?”

“Probably.”

Sakutaro placed his hand lightly over Tsugumi’s, which rested on the bench. He didn’t grip it but simply covered it gently, patting twice on the back. There was no need for complicated reasoning—Sakutaro’s hand was large, warm, and comforting. People need the warmth of others, Tsugumi thought.

I’m sad now, but maybe someday I’ll fall in love again. He didn’t know if that would ever happen, but he was grateful to Sakutaro for making him consider something he hadn’t even thought about yesterday.

In the quiet, darkened park, the two of them sat side by side, hands resting softly together on the bench.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

“To celebrate Tsugumi-san’s arrival at Maison Kouya,” Sakutaro declared.

“Cheers!” everyone called out in unison, raising their glasses high.

The welcome party was held on the weekend, and instead of gathering indoors, Sakutaro had set up a barbecue grill in the garden, claiming the fresh air would feel better. The soft May night breeze carried the savory aroma of grilling meat, weaving through the courtyard.

Greetings like Nice to meet you, Welcome, Thanks for having me, and Likewise bounced around, enough to make Tsugumi feel as though he’d done a week’s worth of socializing in one evening. He’d already met Kudou, the popular manga editor, Ellie, the otoko no ko, and Kanami, the single father, along with his young son, Ichirou. But this was his first time meeting the other two residents: Seto, who worked temp jobs, and Nira, a reclusive university student.

“Hi, I’m Seto. Sorry for the late introduction—I’ve been away for work,” said a young man with long hair tied back in a ponytail, approaching Tsugumi with an easygoing demeanor.

“Nice to meet you. Staying overnight for work must have been tough,” Tsugumi replied.

“I was helping out with the opening of a ryokan. But starting tomorrow, I’ve got ten nights of graveyard shifts at a cake factory. After that, I’ll be working at a food expo hosted by the German Embassy, and in between, I’ll do night shifts moving materials. Once that’s all done, I’m heading to Switzerland, so I’m barely at the apartment.”

“Switzerland? For work?”

“No, that’s just a hobby. I work like crazy to save up, then I go mountain climbing.”

A mountaineer, huh. That explains why a regular full-time job wouldn’t work for him.

“Hey, Nira—have you locked down a job yet?” Seto asked, turning to Nira, who was silently devouring his plate of meat behind them. Despite being a university student, Nira rarely left his room and was always glued to his computer, so Tsugumi had never seen him before.

“Nope. I’m not even job-hunting,” Nira muttered.

“What are you gonna do, then?” Seto asked casually.

“I’ve failed too many classes already, so paying more tuition would be a waste. I’m quitting university.”

Wow, Tsugumi thought, startled by the revelation.

“Huh. Well, do whatever you want,” Seto replied nonchalantly, his casual tone only heightening Tsugumi’s sense of unease. Is it really okay to take something as major as dropping out of college so lightly? But before he could overthink it, Seto provided a blunt explanation.

“Don’t worry about it. Nira’s a god in the otaku community. The games he makes are insanely popular. He’s got enough money to buy one or two luxury apartments in cash, easy.”

“Wait, seriously?” Tsugumi blinked, surprised.

“Yeah. He used to be a hardcore MMO (Massively multiplayer online) addict—went from 37 to 102 kilograms (81-224lb) in four months and nearly died from it. Then he was hospitalized with tuberculosis because of a weak immune system. Even after all that, he couldn’t fix his lifestyle. So now he’s just planning to do whatever he wants until he dies young.”

Despite hearing all of this, Nira continued silently eating, his plate piled high with meat and sausages, not a single vegetable in sight. There was something oddly decisive about his choices.

Looking around the garden, Tsugumi saw Kanami wiping the sticky sauce off Ichirou’s face, Kudou examining what appeared to be rough manga sketches with a cup of oolong tea in hand, and Ellie struggling adorably to open a wine bottle. In the middle of it all, he found himself sitting quietly at the edge of this unusual group.

When Sakutaro had explained the apartment to him, he’d said: “My grandfather doesn’t care much about rules. Well, sometimes he’ll randomly reject perfectly good tenants, but that’s just him.” Now, though, Tsugumi sensed there might be more to it. The landlord seemed to have created a space for people who, in another world, might have been cast out—those without conventional credentials or who didn’t fit neatly into society. It wasn’t much, but the thought struck him.

“Tsugumi-san, how’s it going? Think you’ll manage here?” Sakutaro’s voice pulled him back to the present. He’d come to sit beside him.

“Yeah. The people and the building—it’s all really nice. I think I like it here.”

“Really? That’s great!” Sakutaro said, pouring wine into Tsugumi’s glass. Though Tsugumi wasn’t much of a drinker, he gratefully accepted it tonight.

“Oh, by the way, Saku-chan,” Seto called out, “do you know Yamada-san from Nagatomo Architects?”

“Yamada-san? From one of my old company’s clients, maybe.” Sakutaro said.

“Yeah, that’s the one. He mentioned you yesterday when I was helping with the ryokan opening. Apparently, he worked on the construction there, and your name came up while we were talking.”

“Huh.”

“He said he remembered you working hard and was curious why you suddenly left. I told him you’re doing well as a handyman now, and he laughed, saying, ‘In a recession like this, only a young guy with guts would quit a stable job.’ He even said you should grab a drink sometime.”

“Got it, thanks. I’ll reach out.”

Seto nodded and went over to the grill to grab more meat.

“Yashima? As in Yashima Construction?” Tsugumi asked, intrigued.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Wow, you worked at a major firm?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“But still, leaving a big-name company to become a handyman... that’s impressive,” Tsugumi said, his voice tinged with awe. At thirty-five, Tsugumi still felt aimless in comparison. Sakutaro’s bold decision to change paths was admirable, a testament to his energy and willingness to take risks. If Sakutaro’s like this, his grandfather must be an incredible person too. The thought piqued his curiosity. What kind of man is he?

“I wouldn’t call myself an elite or anything—”

“I’d like to meet him.”

“Huh?”

Sakutaro’s reaction mirrored Tsugumi’s question, his confusion evident.

“Oh, I mean your grandfather. I’d like to meet the landlord someday.”

“My grandfather? You want to meet him?” Sakutaro looked genuinely puzzled.

“Is something wrong?” Tsugumi tilted his head, and Sakutaro’s expression softened, a grin slowly spreading across his face.

“No, it’s just... you’re really something, Tsugumi-san.”

“Am I? People don’t usually say that about me.”

“It’s not that you’re funny in the usual sense. It’s just that I can never figure out what you’re thinking.”

Tsugumi froze for a moment, realizing he might have said something out of place. Should I have shown more interest in the big-name company? Or maybe complimented him more? His sudden mention of meeting the landlord must have felt completely random.

“Sorry, I’m terrible at conversations,” Tsugumi admitted.

It was always like this. Tsugumi would carefully think things through, following a logical train of thought, but when it came time to express it in words, everything got muddled. The harder he tried to explain, the less sense it made, even to himself. Anxiety would mount, and in the end, he’d just come off as awkward or odd.

“There’s no need to apologize. You’re great just the way you are.”

At that moment, the gate creaked open, and a man cautiously peeked inside.

“Nakanishi-san?”

“Oh, Itou-kun!”

It was Nakanishi, Tsugumi’s editor for the magazine Shinpa, who entered with a look of relief.

“Moving all of a sudden like this really surprised me. You haven’t been doing well lately, right? I thought we should meet up and talk. I just happened to be in the area, so I decided to drop by.”

As Nakanishi took in the scene of the ongoing barbecue in the yard, Kudou pointed in his direction.

“Nakanishi-san?”

“Oh, Kudou-kun?”

It turned out they knew each other. Despite working for different companies, Kudou, an editor for shoujo manga, and Nakanishi, who handled literary fiction, had met at inter-industry gatherings for editors. They had maintained a long-standing acquaintance. Sakutaro handed Nakanishi a glass and invited him to join the barbecue.

“Kudou-kun, I heard you’re now handling Komine Yako. That author’s a huge deal!”

“They’re so popular it’s nerve-wracking,” Kudou admitted.

“Don’t complain. Do you know how miserable it is to handle an author who doesn’t sell—”

Nakanishi abruptly stopped, realizing mid-sentence what he was about to say.

“I-I’m sorry for always causing trouble,” Tsugumi stammered.

“No, no, that was just a general comment,” Nakanishi replied hastily, trying to smooth things over.

The attempt at reassurance only made Tsugumi feel worse, as though he might collapse in a heap of apologies. Nakanishi knew well how easily Tsugumi’s confidence could shrink, and his advice always came with just the right amount of delicacy. But Tsugumi also knew that what made things easier for him often meant extra effort for Nakanishi. Tsugumi wasn’t a best-selling author; he constantly wanted to write stories that seemed even less likely to sell, and he had recently missed a magazine deadline altogether. Despite all that, Nakanishi had told him he would wait. It was a kindness that only deepened Tsugumi’s guilt.

“…Really, I’m so sorry.”

“Itou-kun, seriously, it’s fine. Actually, the reason I came today is that I ran into Shinjin-kun in town the other day. He told me you two broke up, and I was so shocked—oh.”

Nakanishi abruptly clapped a hand over his mouth, his regret palpable as it spilled over to everyone around him.

“Shinjin-kun and Itou-kun?” Ellie tilted his head quizzically. “Wait, does that mean Tsugumi-san is… on our side?”

Ellie practically beamed as he leaned toward Tsugumi, exclaiming, “Yay! A comrade!” before throwing his arms around him in a delighted hug. The sudden “coming out” left Tsugumi flustered, glancing around for help. But the others seemed completely unfazed.

“Well, technically, he’s not quite a comrade. Tsugumi-san doesn’t cross-dress,” Seto pointed out calmly.

“Yeah, that’s more like mixing oil and water,” Nira added with equal calm.

“Are we getting another drag queen here?” Ichirou blurted, earning a gentle smack on the head from his father, Kanami, who chuckled, “That’s rude.”

What about Sakutaro-san? Tsugumi thought nervously. He turned to look and saw Sakutaro smiling and making an “OK” sign with his fingers. The tension drained from Tsugumi’s shoulders. The people at Kouya didn’t jump over the hurdle of Tsugumi’s sexuality as much as casually step over it, as if it were no more significant than a curb.

“Sorry, Itou-kun,” Nakanishi said, clasping his hands together in apology.

“No, if anything, it’s a good thing,” Tsugumi replied, shaking his head.

Both his profession as a writer and his sexuality were things he’d hesitated to share openly. Now that the secrets were out, it felt surprisingly liberating. Tsugumi poured more alcohol into Nakanishi’s glass.

“I’m always causing you trouble, but I’ll do my best,” he said earnestly.

“Good. First, let’s focus on getting you through this slump. Let’s pause the piece you’re struggling with for now and move on to the work for the standalone volume. It’s just rewrites of previously published stories, so it can serve as a kind of warm-up. Once you feel confident again, you can start on something new.”

The way Nakanishi discussed plans for the future made him seem incredibly reliable. Tsugumi nodded and clinked glasses with him.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Out of consideration for the neighbors, the barbecue in the garden ended at nine, but the drinking party continued in Ellie’s room well into the night. Except for Kudou, everyone—led by Ellie, who worked at a bar—had a high tolerance for alcohol.

Seto drank calmly, Nira sipped in silence, and even Kanami, the single father, returned to join after putting Ichirou to bed. Kudou was the first to leave, his phone buzzing with a call from a manga artist. Despite the late hour, he quickly packed up and headed out.

“For all his grumbling, Kudou-kun takes good care of people,” Nakanishi murmured, closing his eyes with a relaxed expression as he nursed a cup of sake.

Seto and Nira were deep in conversation, and Ellie was confiding in Kanami and Sakutaro about his romantic troubles, admitting he had fallen for a customer. Quietly, Tsugumi slipped out of the room.

The cool, dry night breeze swept through the garden, soothing his skin, which was warm from the alcohol. Standing among the scattered grills and chairs left from earlier, he gazed absentmindedly at the stars. A presence stirred behind him.

“Sakutaro-san?” he asked, turning around.

Sakutaro looked surprised. “How did you know?”

“Just a feeling.” There was something about Sakutaro—calm and kind, like the sea on a quiet afternoon.

“The guarantor—was he your boyfriend?” Sakutaro asked.

“What?”

“I saw his name on the form. ‘Shinjin Itou.’ Then earlier, Nakanishi-san mentioned him too.”

“Oh... yeah, well...” Tsugumi started to explain, then stopped. What’s the point? He already knows.

“Yeah, he’s my ex. We broke up.” He laughed weakly, the sound hollow.

“Was that why you were crying that day?” Sakutaro asked gently. “At the park on the moving day?”

Tsugumi froze for a moment. So he’d figured it out. He’d handed Sakutaro the rental agreement after that conversation, with Shinjin’s name and signature already on it.

It felt like scattered tiles forming a mosaic, the pieces of his situation coming into focus. The realization left him uneasy, but Sakutaro didn’t push further. Instead, he touched the burnt-out coals in the grill with his fingertips.

“They’re still warm,” Sakutaro said.

Tsugumi reached out to touch them too. “They really are.”

He pressed lightly, and the charcoal crumbled with ease. Burned out, drained of heat, yet still faintly warm—then reduced to fragments. It’s like the end of a relationship, Tsugumi thought.

“You know, the ‘Itou’ in Tsugumi Itou is Shinjin’s surname,” he said suddenly, staring at the broken pieces of charcoal.

“I figured as much when I saw the contract. I didn’t think he was your boyfriend, though.”

“We started dating when I was twenty-five, so it was ten years together, nine of them living under the same roof. That apartment you helped me move out of... leaving those things behind felt—no, it was—lonely.”

Sakutaro nodded silently.

“I debuted as a writer when I was twenty-seven. I never expected to win a prize, so I submitted under my real name. When I did win, Nakanishi-san asked if I wanted to use it. I said no—it felt too embarrassing—so we decided on a pen name. But I couldn’t think of anything, so I just went with ‘Itou.’”

“So if you win the Akutagawa Prize someday, my name’s gonna be all over the news?”

“There are plenty of people surnamed Itou, you know.”

The memory of that silly conversation made Tsugumi chuckle. “I should’ve thought it through more.”

“That’s how it is when you’re happy,” Sakutaro said. “When you’re content, you don’t overthink things.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Each of them had their own bowlful of happiness, just enough to feel full. But happiness wasn’t as simple as a meal—it waxed and waned, like the phases of the moon, shifting day by day.

Just last month, before the breakup, they had talked about visiting a botanical garden two stations away that was in full bloom. Only a week before the breakup, Shinjin had brought back a local specialty as a souvenir from his business trip. Even during those warm moments they shared, Shinjin’s heart had already begun to drift away.

"These days, I think about a lot of things," Tsugumi said with a sigh. "But in the end, I always end up with no answers."

Sakutaro hesitated before asking, "Is it okay if I ask why you broke up?"

"Because of children."

"What?"

"Shinjin wanted kids," Tsugumi said simply.

Sakutaro’s brow furrowed slightly. "I can understand the desire for children to some extent, but it’s not fair to you, Tsugumi-san."

"Yeah, I thought so too."

Blaming Shinjin felt justified—demanding children after ten years together felt like a betrayal, a cruel ambush for someone like Tsugumi. He doesn’t understand pain. Someone like that could never build a happy family. It was easy to get swallowed by those bitter thoughts and hurl silent curses at Shinjin. Yet on such nights, Tsugumi would inevitably dream of the happy times they’d shared, only to wake up suffocated by regret.

"...Well, we had fun while we were together," Tsugumi added. "I should just be grateful for that and work hard to move on."

"Really?" Sakutaro questioned, surprising him.

Tsugumi turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"I don’t think you need to feel grateful to someone who dumped you."

"But—"

"I’ve been there too. I mean, it wasn’t a breakup, but there was a time when I just wanted the whole world to die."

The confession sounded oddly harsh coming from someone as gentle as Sakutaro.

"I hated everything. I had no motivation. When people tried to encourage me, I thought, What do you know? And when they’d tell me others have it worse, I’d think, Well, you’re happier than me, aren’t you? I was angry at the whole world."

"Was it just... an intense rebellious phase?" Tsugumi asked cautiously.

Sakutaro didn’t answer, only offering his usual calm smile. "Crying and pushing yourself to work harder or to be grateful—sure, those are ‘good things.’ But if you try to swallow all those ‘good things’ at once, eventually you’ll overflow."

Hearing this from someone eight years younger made Tsugumi feel a little embarrassed. He knew that people couldn’t always keep pushing themselves, but sharing his struggles openly felt like burdening others. So he built defenses to avoid that.

This happened, and that happened, so I’m feeling down right now.

But I’ll be okay. I’ll work hard.

Thanks for listening.

That was how Tsugumi always tied up his vulnerabilities, neatly and efficiently.

"Sorry. I figured complaining would just annoy people," he admitted.

"Well, yeah," Sakutaro replied with a nod. "If you’re not close to someone, hearing them complain isn’t exactly fun. And, yeah, we’ve only just met. But, honestly, I want to get closer to you, Tsugumi-san. You could rant or vent all you want, and I wouldn’t mind at all. Uh, unless I’ve just bulldozed your sense of boundaries and made this awkward by over-sharing?"

Sakutaro suddenly looked flustered, prompting Tsugumi to shake his head hurriedly. "No, not at all. It’s just... I guess I’m kind of vain. You’re so open, and here I am putting up all these walls. It’s embarrassing. I’m in my thirties—well past halfway—and still acting like this."

Sakutaro made a strange face at that. "What?"

"Something wrong?"

“I was just thinking there are few things more mismatched than the words ‘middle-aged man’ and ‘Tsumugi-san.’”

“No, no, I’m just a regular old guy, like any other.”

“Oh, that modesty? Yeah, now that feels like a middle-aged thing to say,” Sakutaro teased.

The remark made Tsugumi laugh naturally. Talking with Sakutaro had a way of lightening the load on his heart. Criticism from someone genuinely kind was a rare and valuable thing, but even knowing that, it still stung to hear. Sakutaro, however, had a gentle way of communicating difficult truths.

Tsugumi had thought Sakutaro was good at dealing with people, but it went deeper than that—he was truly considerate. Approaching someone, bridging the gap between two people, required courage. Sakutaro had taken the initiative, stepping closer despite the risk of rejection. And for that, Tsugumi couldn’t help but feel grateful.

"Tsugumi-san, really, don’t push yourself too hard," Sakutaro said.

"Okay," Tsugumi replied.

"I mean it. Promise me. People can break surprisingly easily."

There was an unusual urgency in Sakutaro’s voice. Tsugumi tilted his head in curiosity, but Sakutaro only looked up at the night sky.

"Ah, look! It’s ‘Do.’ See, Tsugumi-san?"

"Do?"

Sakutaro pointed to the sky. A small star hung just above a slender crescent moon, forming the shape of the symbol °C.

"Technically, it’s ‘degrees Celsius,’" Sakutaro clarified.

"And even more technically, ‘Celsius degrees,’" Tsugumi added.

"I think I might’ve learned that once," he said, faintly recalling a long-forgotten science class.

"Yeah, back in middle school science experiments—"

As they gazed at the sky, their conversation meandered aimlessly, touching on trivialities.

It was a strange feeling. Being with Sakutaro seemed to slowly untangle Tsugumi’s knotted-up heart. In his mind, the image of roses blooming played out in slow motion. A cool night breeze swept by, carrying the soft rustle of leaves. Above them, the moon and star formed the °C shape.

For the first time since breaking up with Shinjin, Tsugumi felt fully attuned to nature, the simple, fleeting beauty of this moment. It was a peace that could never be held onto, existing only here and now. How could he describe this feeling in words? As the thought floated through his mind, a single drop—something akin to a tear—landed on his chest. What was that? Before he could figure it out, a second drop, then a third, fell, and soon an unstoppable stream began to flow. What had been dammed up for so long now spilled over, forming a small, glistening pool.

"Tsugumi-san?"

The gentle call snapped him out of his thoughts.

"What’s wrong?" Sakutaro asked, his face full of concern.

That’s when Tsugumi realized—he was crying.

"Sorry," he said, hastily wiping his face. "It’s just... happy tears."

"Happy tears?"

The waters that overflowed from the lake in his heart traced a path down like a river, flowing toward the sea. Every drop seemed to unwind something deep within him, traveling through his veins, heating his fingertips.

I think... I might be able to write again.

The desert inside him, once parched and barren, now trembled softly, saturated with newfound life. Clenching his suddenly warm hands into fists, Tsugumi held onto the sensation.

"Sakutaro-san... thank you," he said, voice clear.

"For what?"

"I don’t know. But thank you."

As he smiled brightly, tears still glimmered in the corners of his eyes before spilling over.

"Ts-Tsugumi-san!" Sakutaro stammered, flustered.

"It’s okay," Tsugumi reassured him, laughing through his tears. "These are happy tears, I promise."

Even as Tsugumi laughed and cried at the same time, Sakutaro fidgeted nervously, clearly at a loss for what to do.

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