"Probably a power outage. No big deal—the safety measures here are solid. Might take a bit to fix, though," Takizawa said, reassuring.
Uchida showed no panic, just leaned against the glass, gazing out quietly. Sunlight bathed her soft profile, a serene beauty.
She was calm, never pushing or clashing, always observing silently, never ruffling feathers.
She'd chuckle at silly jokes, ease awkward moments with conversation, and lend a kind hand in trouble, sharing joy and woes step by step.
Yet her own thoughts stayed cleverly hidden, only slipping out in fleeting hints. She seemed to accept everything as it came.
Maybe as a kid, she wasn't good at asking grown-ups for candy.
That's a loss. At her vibrant age, it's prime time to charm the world. Holding back desires is a pity—it suggests past pleas went unanswered, or couldn't be.
"Do you come to places like this often, Takizawa-kun?" Uchida turned to ask.
"I'm a proper adult now. I don't waver, don't look back, don't steal kids' seats."
"What about when you were younger?"
"A few times, but rare."
An honest answer.
His family wasn't the type to frequently whisk him to fun outings.
As for him, mud and sandpiles were enough. Being dragged to theme parks, licking ice cream, munching nuggets, glowing with joy? Never crossed his mind.
He grew up on simple meals, treating a serving of fries like a rare treat, nibbling one every few days. His beloved, beat-up robot toy? Snagged from the village chief's house, greed overriding fear, smuggled home in his pocket.
"When I was in elementary school, my dad struggled at work. He didn't fit in, and money was tight, so we moved back to our quieter hometown," Uchida said softly, legs swaying gently.
"He lived through that flashy economic boom," She continued, "when companies threw around big salaries but were always short-staffed. Everyone aimed high, Dad too. But when the bubble burst, dreams crashed. He gave up the grind and went back to the countryside, worn out."
"It wasn't bad, though. Bigger house, my own room, seeing my sweet grandparents daily. Wide roads, biking to school, the breeze carrying earthy grass scents—lovely," Uchida smiled. "The hassle was, the town had few fun spots. For new movies, cake, or coffee, I had to plan with friends and take a train across a dozen stops."
"Sounds like a balm for a battered soul. Sunrise mornings, starry nights—rural life's my kind of dream. Plus, farming veggies pays decently here," Takizawa nodded, wistful.
"Really? The countryside's dull. No trendy girls in shorts, no clubs or arcades, just old folks sunbathing, walking dogs, petting cats, and outdated street movie screenings. Dead quiet at night, unlike this neon jungle," Uchida said.
"Still nice," Takizawa insisted.
"That's just city folk's novelty talking. Live there long, you'd die of boredom. Sometimes gas lines fail, repairs drag, and you're stuck cooking with firewood," Uchida huffed.
"Perfect. Wood-fired food's the best. As for boredom, doesn't the internet reach there?" Takizawa grinned. "Truth is, I've been waiting for Matsuoka to invite me to his hometown to see the northern snowscapes."
"Mine's warmer than Hokkaido."
"Then I'll shamelessly await your all-inclusive invite—food, lodging, and tours," Takizawa said, bowing in mock gratitude.
"Fine, but don't complain it's too far or remote and bail," Uchida said, mock-stern.
"I'm always game for adventures."
Uchida hummed, paused, then spoke slowly.
"It's really nice there… mostly because it never changes. Dad left at twenty, returned at forty, but those twenty years? Time froze. Same buildings, same shop tunes, same stray cat rummaging trash. For someone ambitious like him, who saw the world race forward, settling there for life is tough."
"His old friends kept climbing, but he's back home tending crops, feeling left behind. Eventually, he wanted to return to crowded Tokyo."
"Men with ambition aren't wrong," Takizawa said.
"But he failed, racked up debts to relatives."
Silence fell.
"No need for that heavy look. He cleared it last year," Uchida said with a goofy smile.
"That's great."
"So, Takizawa-kun, do you like this city?"
"Why the sudden question?"
"You live alone, right? Waking and sleeping solo in this vague city takes a toll of loneliness."
Uchida stared at the cabin ceiling, as if seeing a distant sky.
"Every detail here is streamlined, rules woven into the concrete, holding Tokyo up. Don't ask, don't connect, just pop in earbuds, block the world, follow the flow and vibe."
"In this giant eggshell, everyone obeys those rules like stepping out would end the world—cautious work, study, rest. If someone cracks, systems swoop in, tidy the mess, leave no trace."
Even with light makeup, fatigue lingered on her face, dark circles peeking through.
"Life's been tough, huh," Takizawa said softly.
"There was a small amusement park near my hometown, with a Ferris wheel," Uchida said, finger tracing the glass. "As a kid, at the top, I felt like I was soaring. Outside was a red dusk over mountains, flat roads, a sharp golden-orange horizon, wheat swaying, grass dancing."
"Must've been beautiful," Takizawa said, seeing only the city's crisscrossed buildings.
"After elementary, I moved back to Tokyo with Dad, hoping to ride a Ferris wheel again, but it never felt like that childhood spark," Uchida shrugged. "Country bumpkin… fitting in was hard."
"You're plenty stylish now. Could be a street fashion star in Omotesando."
"In high school, I modeled to ease Dad's burden," Uchida said, awkward. "No idea why they picked a small-eyed, flat-nosed girl like me."
"Really? Can I search your name?" Takizawa whipped out his phone, feigning a search.
"No, no, no! So embarrassing!" She rushed to stop him.
"Shame. Show me when you're not shy," He laughed, pocketing the phone.
Uchida watched his bright grin, eyes lowering, fingers twisting together.
"You've really changed. So confident, even got into a top university. I never considered college, just stopped being a student after high school… Your school's full of amazing people, right? Girls there aren't like me—strong, unique."
"Degrees are just a bonus. Smart folks might think more efficiently, but we're all the same—griping about tough noodles, binging shows and skipping class, scheming for idol handshake tickets," Takizawa said plainly.
"Besides, chasing knowledge's truth is for you."
"Huh?"
"Finding truth," He grinned.
It took her a beat to catch the pun, cheeks flushing, half-annoyed. "You've gotten so tricky. And I'm older than you."
"What? You're my senpai?"
"Yup."
"But my kouhai at work."
"Yup."
He frowned, stumped.
…A senpai-kouhai, Uchida-san.
All set?
***
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