Since that awkward encounter, Haru had been nervously waiting for Fujiwara to follow through on his promise to give him a tour of the area. It's not like he couldn't explore it on his own; he just wanted to get it done with. But Fujiwara hadn't shown up yet, probably waiting for the first day of the semester, which was set for next Monday. Every morning, Haru saw him walking to work alone, dressed all in black as if he were headed to a funeral.

Back at home, Haru pitched in with cleaning for Nishii-san. She did her best efforts to treat him like an honored guest but he couldn't stand sitting around doing nothing all day. It felt weird; he was used to getting up early and spending most of his day at school or Senta*. So, he took matters into his own hands, cleaned up everything, then hopped on the train to wander around Tokyo, hitting up the popular tourist spots he'd seen on TV before.

Nishii-san's place in Kunitachi was just an hour away from central Tokyo. As Haru landed in Kunitachi, he expected the usual urban hustle, but it was nothing compared to the chaos of Shibuya. Having been to Osaka and Kyoto, Shibuya redefined "crowded" for him—never had he witnessed so many people crossing the street all at once. The city was bursting with energy.

The more he explored Tokyo, the more he grasped the stark contrast it held to his serene life in Yoshino. Back there, everything was laid-back; he could leisurely stroll, breathe in fresh air, and strike up conversations with anyone he met on the street. The small population created a slow-paced ambiance, typical of Japan's countryside. In Tokyo, however, it felt like a race against the clock. Haru shared with Nishii-san how he got bumped a dozen times in Shinjuku for walking too slow and recounted his first experience being pushed into a packed, sardine-like morning train by the station guard.

One evening, Nishii-san filled him in over dinner.

"Now, you're getting a glimpse of the true Tokyo – not always the vibrant, cheerful city depicted in travel brochures or on TV. It's a bit different, almost the opposite. Living here means adapting and understanding. And the golden rule? We don't interfere in others' business. 'Hito sore sore'."

Haru nodded. It means 'each person to themselves'.

"Don't get me wrong. It might sound a bit self-centered, but that doesn't make us terrible people," Nishii-san continued. "A lot of folks come to Tokyo without realizing this and end up feeling kinda down or isolated. Living here, you've gotta be independent because we can't always lean on others—everyone's got their own stuff going on. It's a big city, more problems," she chuckled. "And if you find someone who genuinely cares for you, well, consider yourself lucky."

"You're saying I should manage my expectations."

"More or less," Nishii-san replied with a casual shrug. "But hey, on the bright side, we're pretty resilient. Life throws its challenges at us, but that doesn't mean we can't overcome them. Nothing's impossible. Instead of just going with the flow, it's all about embracing that fighting spirit."

Haru began to realize that maybe this was why his high school friends were so eager to move to Tokyo. This bustling metropolis looked like a giant treasure chest, ready to fulfill even the wildest dreams, as long as you put in the effort.

"I keep telling Yuki the same thing," Nishii-san murmured. "To never give up."

"Oh? What happened to him?"

"You heard him. He said he fell from the bathtub."

That was not what he meant. Nishii-san had mistaken his point, but Haru felt rude to correct her. "So, you believe what he said? About the bathtub?"

"For now."

"Frankly speaking, Nishii-san, I felt embarrassed for coming to his house like that."

"You mean because we pushed him to go to hanami?"

"Yeah. He didn't look... pleased."

"He's a real introvert, that one. He needs some fresh air. You saw how pale he was," Nishii-san sighed. "You can't ask him only once because he will always refuse. Once he knows you more, he'll become more... friendly."

Haru wasn't really into this. Trying to be all buddy-buddy felt too clingy, especially with a neighbor. "I don't want to make him uncomfortable or pissed."

"Some people need a little push like that. You might judge me now, but someday you'll probably get why I did this," Nishii-san said, tilting her head slightly. "Don't worry about his reaction. Honestly, I could never tell if Yuki is angry at me. He's never said anything. Or maybe I'm just not sensitive enough."

She burst into laughter. Haru responded with a polite chuckle.

"Anyway, the last thing about Tokyo, everyone gets the same opportunity here," Nishii-san continued. "No need to feel shy about anything."

Haru sensed that Nishii-san was speaking directly to his insecurities. She was well aware of the tough times he endured in school. His peers assumed he was mixed-race, making him an easy target for bullies. Standing out because of his appearance made him vulnerable to their cruelty. Truth be told, Haru wasn't exactly thrilled with how he looked either. Back then, he lacked any confidence and never mustered the courage to stand up for himself. But in high school, he made a conscious decision to accept himself for who he was. This newfound confidence sparked a remarkable transformation; the bullies eventually backed off, he found himself surrounded by more friends, and he even ended up as the class president.

"Thank you for the pep talk, Nishii-san."

Nishii-san flashed him a big smile. "I hope you'll give it your all from now on, Haru."

"I definitely will."

As the days rolled on, tomorrow loomed as the much-anticipated hanami day, and preparations were in full swing. Nishii-san assured him she'd be home early before heading to her nursing job at Tachikawa Hospital, just a quick bus ride away.

Haru did the usual chores; laundry, vacuuming, mopping, toilet and kitchen scrub-downs, and cooking. He wasn't a master chef, but he could whip up simple meals. He settled on rice with takenoko, grilled mackerel with salt, and miso soup. The fish ended up a tad crispy since he got lost in doing the dishes, but it still hit the spot for his taste buds.

He kept waiting for Nishii-san until eight-thirty that evening, but she still hadn't returned. The urge to shoot her a text tugged at him, but he quickly scrapped that idea. He didn't want to bother her, considering nursing was no walk in the park.

At ten, he climbed up to his room, threw on his headset, and drowned himself in music. The scenery outside the window caught his attention. Tokyo glittered beneath the night sky like there was a sea of tiny suns in every house. One of those lights gleamed from the window right across from his.

Their windows were perfectly aligned, and if the curtains weren't drawn, he could peek straight into the neighbor's room. Fujiwara's apartment mirrored his room in size, with the only significant piece of furniture being a bookshelf stacked with books next to his closet.

The neighbor was hunched over his desk, completely engrossed in his work, a nightly routine that Haru had noticed before. He vividly remembered stumbling to the bathroom in the wee hours one night, only to find Fujiwara still diligently at it. Haru couldn't help but wonder what Fujiwara could possibly be working on—maybe some sort of secret project? Whatever it was, it seemed important, considering that the neighbor had been at it for almost two weeks straight.

As the night wore on and Nishii-san remained absent, Haru's eyelids grew heavy. Succumbing to the night, he surrendered to the comfort of his bed.

...

The blaring sound of the phone alarm yanked Haru from his dreams. Seven o'clock sharp. He groggily silenced the alarm, dragged himself up, tidied up his bed, and trudged downstairs. The whole house seemed to be under a strange hush. He shuffled into the kitchen, half-expecting Nishii-san's usual energetic presence, but there was no sign of her.

There were two sets of still-warm rice boxes on the dining table. A hastily written note lay beside them.

'Sorry, can't make it to the hanami. There's an urgent surgery and one of my colleagues couldn't come to the hospital. I have to fill in for her. Take the rice boxes and go with Yuki. He'll be waiting at Kunitachi Station at 8:30. Here's his phone number. I'll text you later. Have fun!'

The thought of hanging out with Fujiwara without Nishii-san made Haru anxious. Maybe he should just call off the whole hanami plan...

Then, he noticed a picnic basket on the chair. It seemed Nishii-san had gone all out—drinks, plastic cutlery, a picnic mat, heat patches, waste bags, tissues, and wet wipes were neatly packed inside.

Guilt hit him like a wave. Haru knew the show must go on, even though his enthusiasm had vanished. Hastily, he made his way to the bathroom to get ready. After finishing up, he boarded a bus to the station. Getting off right in front, he hurried through the North entrance, his eyes scanning the crowd for Fujiwara.

He texted the number Nishii-san gave him. Five minutes passed without replies. He sent another text. Still nothing. Should he just call him? But that felt too awkward. They weren't exactly close enough for a phone call.

Suddenly a light bulb moment hit him. What if Fujiwara didn't show up either? If that happened, what was he supposed to do with these rice boxes and the picnic basket?

"Nakano-san?"

A light tap jolted his shoulder. Turning around, Haru found the neighbor standing there, dressed all in black. The bandage was gone from Fujiwara's face, and the once-prominent bruise had now faded into a faint shadow.

"Fujiwara-san! Sorry for the wait."

"No need to be so formal. Where's Nishii-san?"

"Okay. Apologies. About Nishii-san... I've got some bad news. She can't join us today," Haru explained, showing the letter. Fujiwara took it, his expression gradually changing as he read the note until it became blank. He handed back the letter, his gaze shifting to the picnic basket before locking onto Haru's eyes.

"I can't believe you let Nishii-san recruited you into her plan," he groaned.

"There's no plan but to go hanami."

"Nishii-san thinks I need more friends," Fujiwara replied sharply. "She thinks I'm miserable because I prefer to spend most of my time alone. She wanted us to be friends. Are you a miserable guy?"

"Uh, it depends. If I spend too much time by myself, then yeah, it can get lonely."

"And what do you do when you feel lonely?"

"I hang out with my friends."

"That's unexpected."

Haru raised an eyebrow. "Unexpected?"

"I thought you'd say something like... playing games."

"Do I look like a gamer to you? I mean, I do that too sometimes. Do you play games?"

Fujiwara shook his head.

"Well, I'm not in the mood for games today. I want to go out."

"Look, you don't have to do this," Fujiwara inched closer. "You could head back, take a long nap, study, or indulge in some alone time with adult content in your room. You can do whatever you like, except going to hanami with me. I'll tell Nishii-san I felt under the weather and canceled our picnic. She'll get it."

Haru forced a smile. At this point, he had determined not to return home. "Nishii-san would understand, sure, but she'd be disappointed. She went all out with this picnic basket for us. And no way am I gonna let her down after all she has done for me."

"You said that because you feel indebted to her for letting you stay with her for free."

Fujiwara's blunt honesty caught him off guard. There was no denying it. In Yoshino, people would label Fujiwara as rude and lacking manners.

"I just don't understand why we have to do it every spring," Fujiwara continued, interpreting Haru's silence as acceptance. "It almost feels like an obligation, as if there's some unwritten rule we're bound to follow. It's like we're doing it just for the sake of it. I know I might sound like a non-romantic, post-modern anti-culture reformist, but that's just my opinion."

"Hanami is fun, especially when you do it with your friends—or neighbor..." Haru quickly added. "My best friend in Yoshino is my neighbor. We often go hanami together."

"That's cute. Is your best friend a girl?"

"Y-yes."

"Do you like her? Enjoy going hanami with her?"

"She's my best friend, so I guess you could say I like her—kind of. We've just grown up together. In Yoshino, we didn't have to go to some fancy spot for hanami; the whole town was a sakura wonderland—" Haru paused, taking a deep breath. "But that's not the point. What I'm trying to say is, now you're my neighbor, and I'd like to go hanami with you."

Fujiwara straightened up, rubbing his chin. "Neighbors," he muttered, like he wasn't sure of the meaning of that word.

He didn't say anything more, and just nodded. Haru took that as a green light. "Cool! Off to Showa Kinen!"

"Nope. Definitely not Showa Kinen. That place is boring; there's nothing but flowers. I bet you've seen all those blooms back in Yoshino. There's a lake and a zoo in Inokashira, and it's free to get in. We should go there instead."

"Inokashira it is, then."

...

Once they boarded the train, Fujiwara abruptly fell silent, leaving him confused. Earlier, the neighbor had bombarded him with questions like a burst of fireworks, but now he just sat quietly, lost in his own thoughts. The window next to Fujiwara framed a vivid scene outside: buildings, streets, and people becoming more animated as they neared their destination. Despite the evolving scenery, the silence between them grew heavier with each passing moment, disrupted only by the sounds emanating from the train: the occasional chime announcing the next station, the hiss of sliding doors, and the rhythmic clatter of wheels...

Haru pondered how to break the silence. He often wondered why Japanese people seemed so awkward with small talk; Western tourists at the ryokan never appeared to struggle with it. He imagined himself in Nishii-san's shoes—she always seemed to know what to say. What would she ask? He needed a topic, something not too personal but intriguing enough to spark conversation. Racking his brain, he tried to recall any interesting tidbits from when he scrolled through his screen earlier. The weather? Sports? Politics? Celebrity gossip? Movies? Global warming?

None of them seemed fitting.

Funny how sometimes your brain betrays you in the most crucial moment.

It suddenly struck Haru that he actually had a whole bunch of questions about his neighbor. Why did he always wear black? What was the story behind those bruises? Had Fujiwara been in a fight? What did he spend his evenings doing at that desk? And why the distant attitude? Had Haru done something to upset him? Did Fujiwara even want to be here?

Did Fujiwara... hate him?

"Do you like Tokyo?" Haru finally asked, grabbing the first thing that crossed his mind.

"It's not the best place on Earth," Fujiwara shrugged.

That was a dead-end response. Haru quickly diverted. "I caught a bit of Tsugaru* dialect in your speech."

"I'm originally from Misawa. It's a small port town in Aomori. We're not so different."

"You travelled far."

"Sometimes one had to."

"Do you miss your hometown?"

Fujiwara's brows furrowed. "Do you?"

Haru masked his embarrassment with a laugh. He didn't like sounding melancholy in front of this cold guy. Nishii-san's advice about being resilient in Tokyo echoed in his head.

"Did you come to Tokyo for work?" he inquired instead.

Fujiwara paused for a moment, then abruptly stood up and headed towards the door. "The next station is where we get off."

---

*Tsugaru-dialect: In Aomori, Japan, the local dialect is known as "Tsugaru-ben" or "Tsugaru dialect." Tsugaru is a region within Aomori Prefecture, and its dialect is distinctive with its own set of vocabulary, grammar, and pronunciation compared to standard Japanese.

*Senta is the Japanese pronounciation for the English word "Center". Daigaku Nyūshi Sentā Shiken (大学入試センター試験) is a standardized test organized by the National Center for University Entrance Examinations,  commonly known as the "Center Shiken" or simply the "Center Test" in Japan. Many high school students study in special schools dedicated to teach them how to pass this exam, and these type of schools are often called as "Senta".