To escape the weight of it all, Hiroki often found himself at Mr. Takumi's bookstore.
He would tap a thick stack of books against the glass table before filing them neatly back into the shelf behind him. His face returned to its usual blank expression. Working extra hours here offered a small but welcome sense of relief. Surrounded by thousands of books and a treasure trove of knowledge, no one could intrude upon him. Here, Hiroki could remain undisturbed in his own world.
On quiet days, when there were few customers, Hiroki would sit alone at a wooden desk in the corner, either doing homework or flipping through a book. There was no desk lamp; the soft daylight was enough.
Lately, Hiroki had also been treated to unexpected bursts of music courtesy of Mr. Takumi. The old man would often sit outside the shop, sipping tea and reading the newspaper, occasionally pulling out a guitar to strum. His playing was gentle, soothing—a melody that carried the weight of time.
But what truly surprised Hiroki was the voice that sometimes joined in.
Not long ago, he'd caught sight of Jun—the girl he once called "the little squirrel" in his thoughts—standing outside with Mr. Takumi, quietly singing along.
Her voice was so pure it stopped him in his tracks. Even from inside the shop, Hiroki strained to hear more, the softness of her singing making him forget the world around him.
Each note she sang, drifting atop the simple chords of the guitar, seemed to melt away Hiroki's worries. He couldn't remember ever hearing the song before, but somehow it felt deeply embedded in his memory:
"If one wish in my life could come true,
Then please, grant me wings.
Let them rest on my shoulders,
Like the wings of a bird,
Wide and white, ready to fly.
Across the vast blue sky, I want to spread my wings,
To soar far away from here.
To a sky of freedom, with no more sorrow,
I want to fly, and keep flying forever..."
Then came another song—more unfamiliar, yet no less moving:
"I walk with my head held high,
Counting the dim stars,
Remembering summer days,
Lonely in the night.
Happiness lives in the clouds,
Happiness floats in the sky.
I walk with my head held high,
So my tears won't fall."
Those summer afternoons became memories Hiroki would never forget: Mr. Takumi and Jun, performing together under the fading red sun. It was when Jun seemed her most honest and carefree—not just a quiet chipmunk, but someone deeply human. It was a moment shared between two souls, expressed not in words, but in music.
Sometimes, without realizing, Hiroki would hum the song to himself. At school, at home, walking along the pavement, even while manning the bookstore counter:
"…Let them rest on my shoulders,
Like the wings of a bird,
Wide and white, ready to fly.
Across the vast blue sky, I want to spread my wings,
To soar far away from here.
To a sky of freedom, with no more sorrow,
I want to fly, and keep flying forever."
One day, after softly singing those words to himself, he suddenly looked up—as if pricked by a tiny needle.
There they were. Mr. Takumi and Jun, peeking into the shop, having heard him sing.
Damn it... how embarrassing.
He quickly looked down, eyes fixed on the glass table. His mind went blank.
"Hiroki, come out here for a sec," Mr. Takumi called, chuckling gently. "Just a moment, I need you for something."
"...Okay."
Blushing, Hiroki stepped away from the counter and out the door. Jun watched him quietly, hands clasped behind her back. She stood beside Mr. Takumi as Hiroki approached.
"You called me? Is something wrong?"
"Haha, no, nothing like that. I just thought you should come out and take a break. You've been working hard."
No way. Wait... if it's Mr. Takumi, maybe it won't be so bad. Still, Hiroki hesitated.
Seeing his hesitation, Mr. Takumi smiled warmly. He picked up his guitar resting against the wall and placed it on his lap. Hiroki couldn't look away from the wooden instrument.
"Wanna sing?"
He shook his head quickly. "No, sir."
"Really?" Mr. Takumi tuned the strings. "Funny. I could've sworn I heard someone singing earlier. Was that you?"
The question silenced Hiroki. His ears turned red. He could hear Jun giggling softly beside them.
"No need to be shy. Do you know what that song is called?"
Hiroki shook his head.
"It's called 'Tsubasa wo Kudasai' – 'Please Give Me Wings'. I used to sing it all the time back when I was a teacher. I even played it on guitar for the kids."
He strummed a few soft notes, eyes filled with nostalgia.
"Hiroki, don't be embarrassed. Would you sing with us?"
Hiroki blinked, about to decline—but the guitar had already begun its gentle intro.
"Akari, join in, will you?"
Jun picked up the melody and started singing. It was the first time Hiroki had heard her voice this closely. Each note was as clear and sweet as honey.
He looked away from her and focused on Mr. Takumi's guitar. The old man's fingers were worn and calloused, but moved so gracefully over the strings. Without realizing, Hiroki's lips began to move. The lyrics flowed out, growing louder.
It was his voice now, deep and resonant. He joined them, singing Tsubasa wo Kudasai—the one song he knew by heart.
Jun's voice beside him gave him courage. The words came freely, naturally. This moment felt unforgettable.
The gentle melody slowed toward the end. Hiroki glanced at Jun from the corner of his eye. His heart skipped a beat. Time stood still. The song felt like a hymn, shining light into the darkest corners of his soul.
Someone who understood him. Someone who...
But then everything blurred.
In the distance, he saw a familiar figure. His voice faltered. The music stopped.
By the roadside, pale blue hair swayed in the summer breeze. Their eyes met.
He didn't know how long Yuna had been standing there. But the sorrow on her face was undeniable.
She buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders trembled.
Then, she turned. And ran. Far. Far away. Time slowed. And in the fading echo of song, Hiroki could still hear it:
Her soft, stifled sobs.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The night was cool and quiet.
Jun sat beside him on the steps outside the bookstore. It was already late, and Hiroki didn't really want to go home. He just wanted to stay.
The image of Yuna's face earlier kept replaying in his mind—waves of emotion surged and broke inside him, a strange blend of restlessness and worry. That girl had cried in front of him more than once, but why?
"That girl—Yuna, was she your friend?" Jun asked, gazing up at the star,studded sky, chin resting on her palm.
"Yeah… I guess so."
"I wonder why she was crying like that. She was crying, wasn't she?"
"Yeah... she was," Hiroki replied hesitantly. "I don't know why, though."
Jun fell silent, and Hiroki, unsure of what to say, stole a glance at her. In the soft glow from the lantern above the bookstore door, she looked beautiful—her lips a soft pink. Those lips had sung countless melodies that stirred his heart.
He recalled the clarity and brightness of her voice, and before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.
"I like you."
Wait—hold on. He meant to say, I like your voice!
Hiroki blinked rapidly, realizing what had just escaped his mouth.
Jun turned to him, wide-eyed. "Huh...?"
"No, no," he blurted out, flustered, scooting back until his back hit the doorframe. "That's not what I meant. I meant your voice—"
"Thank you," Jun interrupted softly. Her expression remained calm, as though those three words didn't mean anything special. "I like you too. I have for a while now."
A gentle breeze played through their hair. The trees rustled. A leaf drifted down and landed beside Hiroki's shoe.
"W,What...?"
What did she just say? She liked him? For a long time? He had to be hearing things. There was no way—
Hiroki straightened up on the step. A gap still remained between them.
Jun giggled at his stunned expression. She reached out, hesitated mid-air. "To be honest, I go to high school far away—up in Tokyo. But I don't like it there. It's really boring."
She withdrew her hand. Hiroki still hadn't processed what she'd said. Why would someone like her have feelings for him?
"Do you know why I like you, Hiroki?"
He shook his head, lips frozen in an awkward 'A'.
"Because… your hair is super cool!"
"Uh—what!?"
"Can I touch it?"
He started to shake his head, but then nodded. He watched her lips curve into a tiny smile as she reached out and ran her fingers through his long hair. Her fingers moved gently, threading through the soft strands. Under the moonlight, his golden hair glowed like threads of light.
He held his breath. Each brush of her fingers sent shivers down his spine. In that moment, his heart skipped a beat.
"Your hair… it's really beautiful."
No one had ever complimented Hiroki's hair before. Something in his eyes softened.
But just before he could fall deeper, Jun slowly withdrew her hand, and the warmth disappeared. She smiled, but it was different this time—something wistful lingered in it.
"Thank you for liking me. I mean it," her voice quieted, almost blending into the night. "But I can't come here anymore. Starting tomorrow, I'll be back in the city. My parents won't let me visit Mr. Takumi again."
Another blow landed on Hiroki's heart. Tokyo... returning... not coming back...
"This bookstore... I'm counting on you to take care of it, okay, Hiroki?"
╰⊰✧∘❉∘✧⊱╯