Tokyo. Spring.

Cherry blossoms drift through the air like fragments of a fading dream.

Inside a quiet classroom, a boy sat near the window, his dark hair falling over eyes that seemed to hold a thousand unsaid things.

Ren (narration):

“I’ve always liked sitting by the window. It’s quiet here… no one bothers me. I can just watch the world move while I stay still.”

Ren wasn’t the type to talk much. His classmates knew him as the quiet one — polite, distant, and always staring outside as if he belonged to another world.

He rarely smiled. Maybe because there wasn’t much to smile about.

That morning, the teacher entered with a cheerful tone.

Teacher:

“Alright, class. We have a new transfer student today. Please give her a warm welcome.”

The door slid open.

A girl with bright eyes and a shy expression stepped in. Her uniform was neatly pressed, and her hair fluttered gently with the breeze.

Teacher:

“Introduce yourself, please.”

Girl:

“I’m Aoi Fujimura… I just moved to Tokyo this week. Nice to meet you all.”

Her voice was soft — like the first sound of spring rain.

Ren didn’t look up. But something about that voice made his heart skip.

The teacher smiled and looked around.

Teacher:

“Hmm… there’s an empty seat next to Ren by the window. You can sit there, Aoi.”

She walked toward the back. Ren glanced up for a second. Their eyes met.

For a brief moment — it felt like the world stopped.

Aoi (smiling nervously):

“Hi… I guess we’ll be sitting together.”

Ren (looking away):

“Yeah… I guess so.”

The bell rang, and lessons began. But Ren couldn’t focus. The way she quietly took notes, the soft hum she made while thinking — it was strangely calming.

At lunch, while others left to the courtyard, Aoi turned to him.

Aoi:

“You don’t eat with your friends?”

Ren:

“I don’t really have any.”

Aoi (gently):

“That makes two of us then.”

They both laughed — softly, awkwardly, but genuinely.

That was the first time in years Ren had laughed with someone.

Days passed.

Aoi began talking to him every morning — about the weather, music, the view from the window. Slowly, she melted the silence around him.

Ren started noticing things again — the sound of birds, the warmth of sunlight, the color of her smile.

But even in those quiet moments, Aoi often looked tired. Pale sometimes, though she hid it behind a smile.

Ren (thinking):

“She always smiles… but sometimes, it feels like she’s hiding something.”

Still, he didn’t ask.

Because for the first time in his life, he was happy — and afraid to break it.

One afternoon, as the sky turned orange, Aoi whispered,

Aoi:

“You know, Ren… when I first saw you, you reminded me of someone I used to know.”

Ren looked surprised.

Ren:

“Someone you used to know?”

Aoi:

“Yeah. Someone who once helped me when no one else did.”

Ren stared at her — a strange familiarity blooming in his chest, like the echo of a forgotten memory.

The wind blew through the window, scattering petals across their desks.

Ren looked outside again, and thought…

Ren (narration):

“Maybe this time… I won’t be alone.”

Tokyo, dusk. The sun sank behind the rows of apartments, painting the sky in hues of pink and violet. The faint hum of cicadas mixed with the sound of distant traffic. Ren walked home from his evening job, his uniform slightly wrinkled, a plastic bag swinging at his side.

Ren (narration):

“Every day ends the same way. The city moves, people laugh, trains run… but for me, it’s just another quiet walk home.”

As he turned into the narrow alley leading to his building, he noticed several boxes stacked outside the apartment next to his. A faint light flickered from within. Someone was moving in.

A girl stood there — hair tied loosely, a soft sweater draped over her shoulders, a calm expression on her face as she placed a potted plant near the door.

Aoi (to herself):

“Finally done… it’s smaller than I thought, but… it feels peaceful.”

Ren stopped briefly, his footsteps echoing on the concrete. She looked up, startled but smiling warmly.

Aoi:

“Oh! Hi— you live here too, right?”

Ren gave a small nod, expression unreadable.

Aoi:

“I’m Aoi. I just moved in next door. Sorry if I make a bit of noise while unpacking.”

Ren:

“…Okay.”

Aoi:

(laughs softly) “That’s it? You’re not very talkative, huh?”

Ren:

“…Guess not.”

She tilted her head slightly, amused, and nodded with a smile that didn’t fade even after his blunt reply.

Aoi:

“Well, I’ll see you at school tomorrow then, neighbor.”

Ren said nothing, simply turned his key in the lock and stepped inside his dim apartment. The click of the door echoed faintly in the hall.

Inside, he placed his bag down and stared blankly at the wall between their rooms. Through it, he could hear faint movements — the sound of her opening boxes, the crinkle of wrapping paper, and then a soft, distant humming.

Ren (narration):

“She moved in alone. No family, no noise, just that voice. Why would anyone choose to live alone in a place like this?”

He looked out the window; faint light seeped through the curtains — her light, bright and warm compared to his dark, quiet room. He lay down on his bed, the faint tune of her humming still lingering in the air.

Ren (narration):

“I don’t understand people like her. They smile so easily, talk to strangers like it’s nothing. I don’t know how to do that anymore.”

The ticking of a clock filled the silence. Outside, the cicadas quieted, replaced by the soft wind brushing through the trees. He turned to the wall once more, listening to the faint sound of her laughter as she accidentally dropped something heavy.

And without realizing it, a small, barely noticeable smile tugged at the corner of his lips — a flicker of warmth he hadn’t felt in years.

Ren (narration):

“She’ll forget about me soon… everyone does. But tonight… somehow, this silence feels a little different.”

The scene fades slowly — Ren lying quietly in the dark, and Aoi next door, sitting by her window, resting her chin on her knees while looking at the moon. Two quiet souls separated by a wall, unaware that destiny had just placed them side by side.

Episode 3 – “Rain and Silence”

[Scene: Afternoon – Classroom]

(The final bell rings, echoing faintly through the empty halls. Outside, clouds have gathered and a soft drizzle begins, quickly growing into a steady rain. Students rush out, their laughter and footsteps fading with every step. The classroom empties, leaving only the sound of water pattering against the windows.)

(Narration – Ren)

“The rain began the moment class ended.

Everyone ran off, umbrellas opening like fragile flowers in a storm.

I stayed behind — because I had nowhere else to be. And somehow, this silence… felt like home.”

(Ren sits in his usual corner, chin resting on his folded arms, eyes following raindrops racing down the glass. Each drop seems to carry a story, a memory he’s too shy to voice.)

(A soft sound — footsteps. Someone hasn’t left.)

Aoi (softly, almost hesitant):

“You didn’t go home yet?”

(Ren shifts slightly, looking up. Aoi stands near the door, her bag slung over one shoulder, hair damp with tiny raindrops clinging to the strands.)

Ren:

“No umbrella.”

Aoi (smiling faintly, a quiet warmth in her tone):

“Me neither.”

(She walks slowly toward the window, pausing beside him. They both watch the rain together. The classroom hums with quiet, broken only by the tapping of raindrops.)

Aoi:

“You always sit here alone.”

Ren:

“I like quiet places.”

Aoi:

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

Ren (shrugs lightly):

“People don’t like listening.”

(Aoi chuckles softly, pulling a nearby chair to sit beside him. It’s a small gesture, but it shifts the air.)

Aoi:

“Then maybe I’ll listen.”

(Ren glances at her, surprised, but says nothing. The rain continues, steady and gentle, as if it understands the unspoken words between them. Lightning flashes softly, illuminating her face for a brief moment.)

Aoi:

“Rain makes everything… softer, somehow. Like the sky is crying for those who can’t.”

(Ren blinks, quietly moved, a lump in his throat he can’t put into words.)

Ren (dryly, trying not to show it):

“You talk… weird.”

Aoi (smiling, teasing lightly):

“And you listen… weird.”

(They share a small laugh, the first sound between them that isn’t the rain. A quiet connection forms, fragile but real.)

Ren:

“Guess we wait till it stops.”

Aoi:

“Then let’s wait together.”

(Time passes. The rain softens to a gentle drizzle. The classroom glows with the faint orange light of the evening sun, filtering through clouds and raindrops.)

(Aoi stands first, lifting her bag, and looks at Ren with a small, soft smile.)

Aoi:

“Looks like it stopped.”

(Ren nods. Together, they step out of the empty classroom, their footsteps echoing in the hall, blending with the distant sound of dripping water.)

[Scene: Outside the School Gate]

(Puddles shimmer, reflecting the warm hues of the sunset. They walk side by side in silence, the world quiet around them. Water splashes softly beneath their shoes, but no words pass between them. Only glances, subtle and fleeting, speak volumes.)

(Ren glances at her once. She notices, smiles faintly, and continues walking.)

(Narration – Ren)

“We didn’t talk while walking home.

But somehow, that silence said everything.

That day… she became the first light in my quiet, empty world.”