Arisu had been thinking about that time ever since that night—when Seiji was drinking beer alone at the end of the counter. The voice that said "not for an interview." The warmth of fingertips touching the back of her hand. And herself, answering "yes." All of it felt hazy, like something from a dream, except for one thing that remained perfectly clear: the fact that she had searched for words to refuse. Searched, and found none. It was past nine when Arisu finished closing up Hinata. She cleared the dishes, wiped down the counter, flipped the chairs and stacked them on the tables. The same steps as always, at the same pace as always. Tuesday nights saw customers leave early, so Majima had already gone upstairs. She was reaching for the key to the sliding door when it rattled from outside. When she opened it, Seiji was standing there. His leather jacket collar turned up, no camera hanging from his neck. Both hands shoved in his pockets, standing under the streetlight. He didn't look like he'd come for an interview. He was just there. "[gentle]Want to take a walk?" That was all. He didn't say why, or where. Arisu folded her apron and set it on the counter. She draped her coat over her shoulders and stepped outside. Whether she'd searched for words to refuse—she couldn't even remember anymore. The walking path along Misogi River saw few people at night. Streetlights illuminated a row of cherry trees—about ninety of them—but the leaves had long since fallen, leaving only branches reaching toward the sky. Fallen leaves crunched beneath her feet with each step. Seiji bought two canned coffees at a convenience store and handed one to Arisu. The automatic doors of "Daily Port" closed behind them with a soft sound. They sat on a bench. She looked at the river. Misogi River flowed quietly even at night, its surface rippling with reflected streetlight. Despite its narrow width, it seemed somehow deeper in the darkness. Seiji said nothing for a while. That silence felt strangely comfortable to Arisu. A time that demanded nothing. A time she didn't have to answer for. Inside the shop, she was always responding to someone's needs. What to serve and when, what to clear and when, what the owner wanted. Seven years of habit had made her body move on its own. But here, she could just gaze at the river. This ease came from not being asked for anything, Arisu thought. She couldn't tell if this feeling was close to love. The night walks repeated on Wednesday, and Thursday. Before she knew it, the time when Seiji would be there after closing had taken root in Arisu's mind. It hadn't happened through any conscious choice. He was simply there the next night, and the night after that, and by the time she realized it, it was the third time. Thursday night, after they'd been sitting on the bench for a while, Seiji spoke. "[serious]When you were a child, was there ever a time you felt safe being with someone?" It wasn't his interview voice. She could tell he was asking as a person, not as a reporter. But Arisu couldn't quite distinguish between his interview questions and his personal ones. She never had, from the beginning. She searched for an answer. Safety. Being with someone. As she traced through her memories, what emerged wasn't faces but the air around them. The temperature of a room where someone was present. The sound of someone's voice at night. Whether that was safety, she no longer knew. All that remained was the fact that she had been there. "[gentle]……I may not have much of that," There was a pause. Seiji didn't fill it. He simply took a sip of his canned coffee without speaking. Arisu glanced at his profile. His silence, which didn't try to fill the void, felt strangely comfortable again tonight. There was no sense of him throwing out a question, waiting for an answer, preparing the next one. He was just sitting beside her. That was all. Only the sound of the river continued. —— Friday night, Seiji started walking in a different direction than usual. He left the path along Misogi River and headed south. Past Kagerou Slope Station, walking further. Arisu followed silently. She didn't ask where they were going. She didn't even think to ask—or rather, the thought of asking never occurred to her. They entered Tsukimori Greenery. A mixed deciduous forest about fifteen minutes southwest of Kagerou Slope Station. The kind of place families strolled through during the day, but empty at night. The walking path through the fallen-leaf forest had few streetlights and was dark. Bare branches of konara and kunugi oak stretched toward the sky, and stars were barely visible through the gaps. The sound of fallen leaves being stepped on—two sets of footsteps. Arisu stopped where the path opened slightly. There was no reason for it. Her feet simply stopped. Seiji turned to face her. He said nothing. His hand touched Arisu's cheek. Just one. In the cold night air, only his fingertips were warm. Arisu didn't move. She didn't pull away. Because she couldn't find a reason to. While being kissed, there was a strange quietness in Arisu's chest. Not a clear emotion like happiness or fear—just a question rising quietly: *Is this okay?* She hadn't refused because she thought it was okay. She simply couldn't find grounds to refuse. It was like the same automatic "yes" she'd been repeating for seven years, and Arisu was aware of this. Yet even knowing it, she couldn't move. Their lips parted. After a brief moment, Seiji whispered. "[whispers]……I thought so," It was a small voice. The kind of whisper you make to yourself, or to confirm something. It might not have been meant for Arisu. But it reached her ears. She wanted to ask: What do you mean? No voice came. The question caught in her throat and wouldn't come out. Maybe she was afraid. Maybe she felt that if she asked, something would break. And she didn't even know if she had the right to ask. They walked back the way they came. The sound of fallen leaves—two sets of footsteps again. Seiji said nothing more. —— They returned to Hinata after eleven. Majima was sitting alone at the far end of the counter, drinking sweet potato shochu. He did this sometimes after closing. Arisu only said "Thank you for your hard work" and reached for the remaining dishes that needed wiping. "[gentle]You seem happy lately, Arisu," Majima's voice was calm. Not accusing, not probing—just an observation. "[gentle]Do I?" Arisu continued wiping plates as she answered. Majima gazed at his glass for a moment. Then, almost to himself, he said: "[serious]Kinoshita's a good guy, but……reporters are troublesome," He said nothing more. He brought the glass to his lips and looked out the window. Arisu couldn't ask what he meant. Her hands wiping the plates stopped for just a moment. Then she started again. Was it because she didn't want to upset Majima? Because asking would change something? Or—because she didn't yet think it was something she needed to ask about? She didn't know. She put the dishes away, folded the cloth, and said "I'm heading home." Majima replied "Good night." That was all. When she closed the sliding door, the night shopping street was quiet. Among the shuttered storefronts of Hikari Street, only Hinata's window still glowed. Arisu turned back slightly, then continued walking. —— The next morning, when she opened the mailbox, there was a white envelope inside. The sender was Miyano Chieko. Her mother's name. The return address in the upper left was from the family home in Funabashi. She couldn't tell if it had been forwarded or sent directly. Her fingers stopped as she reached to open it. One second. Two seconds. In the end, she left it unopened and went back to her room. She slipped the envelope between the pages of a paperback on her bookshelf. Twelve books tilted slightly out of alignment. Arisu left them that way. She didn't understand why she couldn't open it. She didn't think it contained anything frightening. She hadn't done anything to be scolded for. But she couldn't open it. That was all. Looking out the window at the bare cherry trees along Misogi River, she arranged last night's events in her mind. The dark walking path in the greenery. The warmth of Seiji's fingertips. The whisper: *I thought so.* Majima's words: *Reporters are troublesome.* She still didn't understand what "I thought so" meant. Was it relief that she hadn't refused? Confirmation of her as an interview subject? Or something Seiji was telling himself? She couldn't tell. And beneath that question, something deeper was beginning to take shape—a more fundamental question. ——*Have I ever chosen anything for myself?* That question, for the first time, didn't sink away. It usually did, disappearing somewhere, but today it remained. Arisu traced its outline in her mind again, as if to confirm it. No answer came. But the fact that the question persisted was itself something that rarely happened. She watered the cactus, put on her coat, and left the room.