● Epilogue April 30 (Saturday) Yuuta Asamura

The night was, as always, time for my part-time job. But today felt different from the usual commute. It wasn’t just because it was Saturday, with more customers and staff. The extra staff members were all talking to Ayase-san. In the office, there were snacks Ayase-san had brought as a farewell gesture, and it seemed everyone was using “thanks for the snacks” as an excuse to strike up a conversation.

It’s not like we were ever on bad terms. But during work hours, Ayase-san focuses on her tasks and doesn’t initiate small talk. Unless someone like Yomiuri-senpai actively engages her, no conversation would happen if the other person was working diligently too.

But today was her last day, so the staff took every chance to say a word to Ayase-san.

Seeing her loved and missed by everyone warmed my heart deep inside. You worked hard, Ayase-san. That’s proof of your effort.

Yet, almost at the same time as that warm feeling, a dark sense of loneliness crept up. This is the last day I’ll get to work with Ayase-san like this…

Not long ago, at the dinner table, she told me she’d decided to intern at Akihiro Ruka’s agency. She’s always been interested in design, and finding something she’s passionate about is a good thing. So I smiled and said, “I’ll support you,” feeling affection for her shy “thank you.”

There wasn’t a shred of falsehood in how I felt back then. Not at all. So why, now, does my heart feel so unsettled?

It’s strange. We see each other at home every day. Even so, living together and working at the same place means our time together will definitely decrease.

I recall the tragic love story Nakamura told me about at university, more a tale of heartbreak than heroism. He said that as they spent less time together, his girlfriend met a new guy in a community he wasn’t part of, and before he knew it, they’d grown close and she was gone. According to Nakamura, it’s now a classic joke, but I couldn’t find it funny at all.

My old man got divorced after being cheated on. I know, indirectly, the impermanence of human hearts and the sorrow of betrayal. That’s why stories like that always stir me up.

Ayase-san… I believe Saki wouldn’t do something disloyal, but still.

University life. Internships. New experiences in a new world will surely be thrilling, tossing Ayase-san around like a roller coaster. She’s a curious person. Deep down, she craves flashy experiences over slow, plodding attractions.

Does less time together inevitably cool feelings, like it did for Nakamura’s ex? Well, Tsukimiya is a women’s university, so maybe it’s fine… No, there’ll be men at her internship. There are plenty of chances to meet someone.

This feeling… it’s not good. Self-doubt leads to accidents. Positive self-reflection is one thing, but negative thoughts like these can break your heart.

Chastising myself, I turned my gaze away from Ayase-san, surrounded by regretful staff, and focused on my own work.

Special days pass in a flash. Before I knew it, it was midnight, time to clock out. After final store checks, cleaning, and closing the register, I changed and returned to the office. The manager was waiting with a grin, holding a square object. I nodded silently, took it, and handed it to Ayase-san, who came in a bit later, saying, “Thanks for all your hard work.”

It was a farewell card from the staff for Ayase-san. Yomiuri-senpai had stopped by after work to secretly write in it, and Kozono-san (who’d already gone home since she’s a high schooler) had put in a lot of effort too. Though, Kozono-san’s “I absolutely won’t lose!” was a bit puzzling for a goodbye message.

Ayase-san clutched the card to her chest, visibly moved, but still managed the same steady smile she used with customers. “Thank you very much.”

Bookstore clerk Ayase Saki’s final day came to an end.

After the goodbyes, while the manager and veteran staff lingered to chat, we left the store. No matter how reluctant we felt, we couldn’t stay long. Even as college students, our parents would worry if we didn’t get home soon.

As we stepped out into the midnight bustle, my hand was suddenly grabbed.

“Wait.”

“…Ayase-san?”

Turning around, I saw her looking at me with an unreadable expression.

“There’s somewhere I want to go.”

“At this hour? Uh, where?”

Ayase-san thought for a moment, then said, half-jokingly, “A pilgrimage to a sacred site.”

Midnight Dogenzaka was a scene worthy of being called chaotic. Shady touts, drunken adults, and shop lights that never dimmed even past midnight.

We climbed a few steps of a building filled with restaurants, stopping at the landing. Leaning against the railing, we looked down at the crude cityscape.

I glanced at Ayase-san’s profile. The scene strongly reminded me of my “little sister.” Lately, I’d been more conscious of her as a “lover,” so it’d been a while since I thought of her as my “sister.”

Why do I feel her as my “sister” now? There’s a reason for it.

“This place feels nostalgic, doesn’t it?”

My sister said, narrowing her eyes. Even amidst the dazzling city lights, she never faded into the background. Golden hair and eyes filled with strong will. A poised stance. She had a commanding presence, like she could thrive in any world. Yet, it felt like we could share the same values—a miraculous encounter.

“Yeah… This is where we first met.”

Right, this place. In the family restaurant up these stairs, my dad, Ayase-san, Akiko-okaasan, and I had our first meeting. And on this landing, we made a contract. To live without expectations of each other.

“That day, my new life began. The happiest, most extraordinary moment of my life.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“And I think it’s because we properly aligned our values.”

“True. Because we aligned here, we could live with the same values and feel at ease.”

Proposing a contract-like relationship might’ve risked turning someone off. For her, it was a bold step, a communication to confirm, despite the risk of rejection. If they don’t like it, just apologize and move on. It was a courageous step.

Thanks to her courage, our sibling life became comfortable. In a way, I was freeloading off her bravery.

I get it now. This relationship, where we align everything through words, was built by overcoming the risk of rejection.

“So,” she said, looking into my eyes.

Her next words didn’t come easily. Her beautiful eyes flickered between mine and a spot slightly to the right, as if searching for the right words.

Until now, I would’ve waited. I’d wait as long as it took for her to find her words. I thought it was rude to steal someone’s words or assume their feelings.

But if we’re to build a new life—

“You want to align our values? A big one that’ll shape our future life together?”

“…!”

As I resolved to take her words, Ayase-san’s eyes widened. She nodded repeatedly.

“Yes! Exactly! That’s it!”

Then she leaned in close, her breath slightly ragged with excitement. “Talking about making babies!”

“…!”

Now it was my turn to widen my eyes.

She quickly gasped, her face flushing. “Ah, no, I mean, the subject, or rather, the modifier’s missing…”

“N-no, I mean, it’s not that. You know, the other day, Mom talked to us about making babies, right?”

“Oh, yeah, right.”

She told us not to hold back on what we wanted because of that. From the context and vibe, Akiko-okaasan might’ve noticed my relationship with Ayase-san.

“After that, Mom told me something. In a couple of years, I’ll reach the age she was when she had me. So, in the not-so-distant future, I’ll probably bring someone important to her.”

After the baby-making talk, Akiko-okaasan had pulled Ayase-san aside. So that’s what they discussed.

“And she said, no matter who that person is, she and Taichi-otousan would absolutely celebrate it.”

“That’s totally implying me, right?”

“Yeah. It was probably super obvious.”

Ayase-san gave a self-deprecating smile. “But when I tried to confess, ‘It’s Asamura-kun,’ she cut me off. Oh, sorry for almost blurting it out without discussing it first. I just felt I had to say it then.”

“That’s fine. Honestly, I figured they’d already guessed.”

That’s not what bothers me.

“Why did Akiko-okaasan stop you? Did she not want to hear it yet?”

Is she avoiding confirmation, even though she suspects it? I thought that, but Ayase-san quickly shook her head.

“No, it wasn’t that kind of vibe. She just said… to cherish this time and nurture our love slowly.”

I thought about Akiko-okaasan’s words as relayed by Ayase-san. Below the railing, people passed by, some nearly bumping into each other. Maybe some of them were drinking at Akiko-okaasan’s shop.

Just as Ayase-san and I made new friends at university, people’s lives hit turning points every few years. With as many transitions as there are people, Akiko-okaasan, who’s worked in Shibuya for years, must’ve seen countless comings and goings at her shop.

Change is the way of the world, isn’t it? Maybe Akiko-okaasan feels that having us confess now might bind us in the opposite way.

As a mother, she doesn’t want us to just be happy as lovers. She wants us to be free and happy, unbound by anything.

Relationships can be unpredictable. No matter how happy they seem, people drift apart over small misalignments. That happened with my dad and my real mom, and with Akiko-okaasan and Itou Fumiya.

So if we confessed a relationship now, without being ready to marry, breaking up later would mean awkwardly reporting it. She probably wants us to tell her only when we’ve made a truly important decision, after nurturing our relationship. That’s likely it.

When I voiced this theory, Ayase-san nodded, clearly thinking the same.

“Let’s nurture our relationship carefully. But…”

“But?”

Her words trailed off awkwardly. Looking at Ayase-san’s profile, there’s none of the coldness from the day we met. Her face is soft, flushed—whether from the traffic lights’ reflection or something else, I can’t tell.

“Working at the same place ends today, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“With university classes and work schedules, our rhythms will probably drift further apart.”

“Probably, yeah.”

“The time we can spend together will decrease.”

“We live in the same house, but… that doesn’t quite cut it, does it?”

“…Yeah.”

During her sensitive middle and high school years, Ayase-san experienced a life of passing by her mother. She knows that even living together, opposite schedules can mean barely seeing each other.

“Honestly, I’m a little anxious. It’s not that I don’t trust you, Asamura-kun, or at least, I don’t think it’s that. But our relationship—siblings and lovers—it’s always been ambiguous, defined yet undefined. As long as we keep talking and confirming, we won’t lose sight of it. But if that time decreases, I’m scared it might just fade away, fragile as it is.”

I was surprised. Ayase-san felt the same anxiety I did. I hadn’t thought it being due to our relationship’s ambiguous definition, though.

If she doesn’t like it, just apologize. She’s your girlfriend, after all.

I recall Nakamura’s words. I didn’t fully agree with his way of speaking. It felt like the start of prejudice. It’s not about “she’s your girlfriend, so it’s fine.” I believe Ayase Saki is Ayase Saki, and labeling her as anything else is out of the question.

But Ayase-san’s point makes sense too. People are bound by definitions. Once something is explained as “this is what it is,” we skip complex thinking, recognize it as such, and group similar things together, unable to see them as different. I’ve always avoided stereotypes, and so has Ayase-san. But being bound by definitions and trapped by prejudice is almost human instinct—stable, fast, low-cost, and thus enduring.

Sister or lover? Make it clear, so it never wavers.

“I won’t call you Onii-san anymore. So when you call me Saki, don’t call me your sister.”

Like the promise we made that day, she—Saki, who’ll now just be my lover—said so.

“Is that the big value you want to align?”

When I asked, Saki nodded. “Yeah.”

“What do you think… Yuuta?”

“I…”

I turned to face Saki directly. Even bathed in Dogenzaka’s crude lights, she retains a noble silhouette. Yet, her prickly thorns are just for show, soft like a plush toy that crumbles under a fingertip, accepting even my pathetic sides with generosity—

I notice the expressions I have for her are richer than before. I understand because we’re in the same place. The Saki I see now is far more three-dimensional than the Ayase-san I saw that day.

That’s it. This is fine. If we’d defined it that day, I’d never have seen the full “Ayase Saki.” But now, defining something won’t make me lose sight of her.

“I want a clear definition too.”

“Yuuta…!”

She gasped in surprise for a moment. My hand had touched her neck.

Drawn in, my hand moved naturally. Feeling her hair against the back of my hand, I traced her neck, then up to her cheek, confirming her shape and warmth.

Am I scaring her? Should I say sorry? I cautiously looked into her eyes.

“Ah…”

And then, for the first time, I understood. I felt it. What a wordless “OK” truly means.

She covered my hand on her cheek with hers. Sandwiched between her cheek’s warmth and her hand’s warmth, heat welled up, spreading through my veins, beyond my hand, to my whole body.

Something you don’t do with a sister, but do with a lover. Defining our relationship, making Yuuta and Saki’s existence certain.

“Is this okay?”

“…It’s okay.”

The warmth of our joined hands burned hotter than the fervor of Dogenzaka’s pleasure district, melting its vibrant lights, chaotic sounds, and fleeting shadows into a quiet, wordless world at the edge of our shared silence.