He felt relieved to be back at work, slipping back into his routine. However, one thing remained different—his usual route to the café was disrupted. Today, he had to take a detour to avoid encountering the neighbor. This morning, he noticed the boy deliberately lingering as he locked his door, almost as if he was waiting for him to appear.

Nishii-san had left for Yokohama, possibly returning either tonight or tomorrow morning. Before leaving, Nishii-san had messaged him, entrusting Haru to his care. Keeping his distance, he carried out this responsibility discreetly, watching the neighbor through his bedroom window. So far, Haru seemed fine. Since sending noodles last Friday, there had been no other messages or deliveries. He had returned the bowl to Nishii-san's house, accompanied by a brief note: "Thank you. Please don't send me anything else."

Time supposedly heals all wounds, or so they say. He's learned from experience that it's not entirely true. Nevertheless, he had to be resolute, to prevent the pain from worsening in the future. At the moment, he decided it was best to avoid the neighbor. He had another plan, of course. The only thing he regretted would be losing Nishii-san. He had never had a friend as good as her.

Mondays were always bustling at Shiru Cafe. Typically, the first customers of the week were office workers seeking caffeine to stay awake. Then, before lunchtime, the students would arrive, needing coffee to stay alert during dull lectures.

His arm still felt a bit sore, but he attributed it to stiffness from not working for a few days. It didn't bother him; he was ready to return to his usual routine.

He had sprayed cleaning fluid on the counter and wiped it until it gleamed. The last customer had hurriedly spilled some coffee earlier.

The cafe door slid open, and he greeted with "irrashaimase" as he got ready.

"Fujiwara-san."

The round and cheerful face of Maruyama, Haru's future wife, appeared before him. Seeing her, he became alert. Had Haru come with her? He peeked behind Maruyama-san to check, but she was alone.

Maruyama-san ordered a café latte and a cinnamon cake. They engaged in small talk, and he carefully avoiding any mention of Haru. After paying, the girl lingered at the counter.

"The order will be delivered when it's ready," he said, expecting Maruyama-san to know. "Next customer, please."

But Maruyama-san didn't move. Instead, she leaned in, twirling her wallet. "I need to talk to you."

"Sorry, I'm working."

"Just for a moment. Or I can wait until your break time."

Break time had ended half an hour ago. He couldn't keep Maruyama-san waiting until closing, even though he knew she was capable of it. From her gaze, he knew what she wanted to discuss—or rather, who.

The order was ready.

He had no reason to avoid it. "Okay," he said, bracing himself. When faced with a problem like this, it was better to resolve it immediately.

He asked one of his colleagues to cover for him at the counter and requested ten minutes. Luckily, Honda-senpai was acting as the manager today.

"I only have ten minutes," he said, carrying Maruyama-san's order.

The girl smiled brightly and gestured towards an empty table near the window. "I won't take long either," she said, brushing the back of her skirt before sitting down gracefully. "I want to talk about Haru."

He knew. He held his tongue and waited.

"Maybe Fujiwara-san knows what happened to Haru."

"What do you mean?"

Maruyama didn't answer immediately; he simply looked at him, waiting for a response. He turned his attention to the green bonsai grove in front of the window.

"I've been busy these past few days," he answered politely. "So I haven't had time to catch up with Haru. Sorry I couldn't be of much help."

"Ah, I see," said the girl, looking rather disappointed.

"What's wrong? Is he okay?" he asked.

"He... changed," Maruyama-san replied. Her cherry-colored polished nails tapped on the table.

"Changed how?"

"He became... quiet. Since last Wednesday, he's been daydreaming all the time."

"Maybe he's tired from work. He started working part-time at the Family Mart near the station this week. Or maybe he's busy with homework? Aren't semester exams coming up soon?"

"No, Haru isn't someone who gets tired easily. He's used to working hard. His brain is also pretty sharp, so campus stuff shouldn't bother him." Maruyama-san's nails tapped faster on the table. "But his attitude turned gloomy. That's not like him. Haru is usually very cheerful – just like his name. Sometimes he can be shy and nervous, but otherwise, he's lively and enthusiastic."

"Nishii-san is going to Yokohama," he suggested. "Maybe Haru is lonely?"

"Nishii-san only left last Saturday," the girl disagreed. The tapping of her nails somehow made him feel uneasy. "Meanwhile, Haru was already gloomy before that."

He fell silent, contemplating her words.

"Fujiwara-san, are you two fighting?" Maruyama's question made it sound like he and Haru were a couple.

"No," he replied, trying to sound convincing. "We're okay."

"Then, has Haru ever mentioned his problem to you?"

"No. We... aren't that close," he admitted.

Maruyama narrowed his eyes, clearly unsatisfied. "Have you asked Haru directly?" The scrutiny in Maruyama's gaze made him uncomfortable. "You're engaged. Surely Nakano-san would want to confide in you."

"No, the fiancé thing was just a joke," Maruyama-san snorted. "Besides, if Haru had told me, I wouldn't have bothered coming here, right?"

He sensed a subtle accusation in the girl's manner, feeling embarrassed that this issue might involve him.

Maruyama-san took a sip of his coffee before offering her a slice of cinnamon cake, which she politely declined.

"Haru came to Tokyo with big dreams. He wanted to work in a bank and become successful," Maruyama-san explained, the tapping of her nails ceasing. "I don't want his dreams to falter because of discouragement."

"Everyone comes to Tokyo with something to achieve."

"I've grown accustomed to city life during my time in Osaka. However, Haru's experience is quite different. He's spent his entire life in Yoshino, a small village. Moving to Tokyo is an extraordinary opportunity for him."

"In Tokyo, not all dreams come true, unfortunately," he replied casually, trying not to place too much blame on himself. "Despite your hard work, dreams often go unfulfilled. Haru needs to come to terms with that. To me, it's a test of maturity."

"Is that also Fujiwara-san's perspective?"

"That's the reality."

"I just don't want Haru to lose hope," Maruyama stated firmly. "I've known him since childhood. His life hasn't been easy; he often feels insecure because he looks... a bit different."

"Are you referring to Haru's skin color?"

Maruyama nodded. "Even so, Haru always puts in effort to make those he cares about happy, even someone as blunt as myself. People in a small town such Yoshino can be really mean."

He reflected on Haru's thoughtful gestures to him, like delivering noodle soup and leaving handwritten apology messages, including the one from yesterday along with the fifteen-hundred-yen cheesecake.

"I think you've done your best," he tried to comfort, though it sounded insincere; that's all he could say.

Maruyama took another sip of her coffee and crossed her arms. "I was just trying hard. I only wish others would also try just as hard."

"My father used to say that a man must be tough," he remarked. "Expectation often leads to disappoinment."

"I agree. Haru knows what he will face – he's a mature person, not a kid anymore. There will be a lot of pain and disappointment in the future," Maruyama stated, sounding mature, almost like Haru's mother rather than a friend. "I just don't want Haru to experience unnecessary heartbreak. Especially from people who can't appreciate his kindness."

"Bad things can happen at any time. Nobody knows the future," he added.

Suddenly, Maruyama-san bowed her head deeply in a pleading pose, shocking him.

"Fujiwara-san, please don't hurt my best friend!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Haru's heart is as pure as spring water..." the girl continued, her voice trembling with emotion as tears streamed down her cheeks. "He's too kind and loving. It's not that I'm trying to protect him; I just want to support him as much as I can. If Fujiwara-san can't be his friend, I beg you to stay away from Haru's life. He doesn't deserve any more pain or heartache. If you knew how much he suffered since we were little... Haru has been through enough already."

The words pierced his heart like a sword. He had forgotten about Maruyama-san and the value of her friendship with Haru. They were childhood friends; he distinctly remembered Haru telling him that Maruyama-san was not only his best friend but also his confidante. They had been through thick and thin together. Similar to Nishii-san, she also genuinely cared about Haru. Yet, what had he done besides trying to keep Haru at arm's length and giving the boy the silent treatment?

"I'm just an acquaintance of Haru's," he finally dared to answer in a casual tone. "I think Maruyama-san misjudged me. I don't have the ability to hurt him."

"We never know who we might hurt. Most of the time, we unintentionally hurt someone without realizing it."

Her words silenced him once more, not because he couldn't respond, but because he knew deep down that what she said was true.

"If I'm mistaken, I apologize," Maruyama-san said breathlessly, her voice filled with urgency and emotion. "I needed to express this because I deeply care about Haru. Please, don't misinterpret my intentions."

His emotions churned within him. He should have felt anger—this girl wasn't close enough to him to have the right to speak so boldly. They had only met once, and their sole connection was Haru. Yet, Maruyama-san's concern touched him deeply.

"I appreciate your honesty and sincerity," he managed to reply, his voice strained.

"If you truly dislike Haru," Maruyama countered, her tone firm yet laden with concern, "there's no need to hurt him."

"I'm sorry, there seems to be a misunderstanding. I would never—"

"I hope I've made myself clear."

Maruyama-san raised her head, wiping away her tears. Her eyes reflected a mixture of pain and determination. Unable to meet her gaze directly, he looked down, feeling the weight of Maruyama-san's words in his mind like a haunting melody.

The girl finished her coffee in long gulps and grabbed her bag. Without saying a word, she stood up and left him alone. The cinnamon cake remained untouched.

Watching Maruyama walk away, Yuki knew what he had to do.