By the time the café lights dimmed and the barista politely stacked chairs near the back, neither of them had moved much, but neither had looked at their watches either.
Hino stood and helped her with her coat, a gesture so gentle it startled her.
"It's a clear night," he said as they stepped outside. "Would you mind walking with me for a bit?"
She nodded. "I'd like that."
The city had softened. The sun had fallen away behind the buildings, leaving behind a gentle hush, broken only by distant cars and the echo of their footsteps.
They walked without direction, following the quiet rhythm of the evening. Lanterns swayed over narrow side streets. A small boy chased bubbles from a street performer near a fountain. A pair of teenagers huddled over a phone, laughing at something they didn't share.
She noticed Hino kept a respectful pace. Close enough to be beside her, far enough not to crowd.
After a few blocks, they came to a small park, tucked away between two shrines. Gravel paths wound around empty playgrounds and a dry stream bed. A single bench sat beneath a cherry tree that hadn't bloomed yet.
They sat.
For a moment, the only sound was the wind rustling dry leaves across the gravel.
Kazuo broke the silence. "I was married once. Briefly."
She turned to him. He didn't look sad, just far away.
"We were both young. I think we wanted more from each other than we had to give. No children. No anger. Just… ended."
She let the silence return.
Then she said, "I was pregnant once."
She surprised herself by saying it aloud. He turned his head slightly, giving her space without withdrawing.
"I lost the baby," she continued, voice calm but small. "Before the second trimester. I thought I was okay. I told people I was. But sometimes, I still wake up feeling like there's something missing inside me."
He nodded once. Not in pity, just in recognition.
She breathed in.
"I don't know if I can have another. And even if I can… I don't know if I'm strong enough to go through that again."
Hino looked down at his hands.
"I don't want a perfect life," he said softly. "I just want a real one. One that we make together. Even if it's slow. Even if it's fragile. Even if it hurts sometimes."
She looked at him then, not just at him, but into him, and saw no trace of pressure or agenda. Just a man who had also known absence. Who had also waited too long for something that might never come, and was willing to try anyway.
The wind picked up slightly, brushing strands of hair across her face. She tucked them behind her ear and looked up at the moon.
"I don't know if I'm ready."
"That's okay," he said. "We'll start wherever you are."
And for the first time in a long time, she believed someone might actually mean it.