A high-pitched trill from my alarm clock pulls me into consciousness. Five thirty in the morning, it says.

The other side of the bed is empty, but it’s still warm. It’s still rich with Raana’s scent. She must have left in the middle of the night.

She never leaves any notes, but I don’t mind it anymore.

I climb out of bed and stand under the water from our cramped shower, and I wait for my body to feel like my own again. I switch the tap to cold to hurry it along.

The color of my third-year tie still looks so frighteningly unfamiliar.

I clip it to my shirt, slip on my blazer, and leave with my school bag slung over my shoulder.

The 1DK apartment we live in is on the third floor of an old four-story complex, built in the 1970s.

The place really isn’t much; the paint is peeling off in places, and the fluorescent lights on the exterior stairwell are always flickering and threatening to burn out. But I like it here. Its hallways have a unique chemical-ish smell to them which I’ve grown really fond of; our landlady is a kind, older woman who sometimes drops by and gives us homemade macarons; and rent is cheap enough to split between what Raana makes and what I get from my parents.

It’s winter. December. Our street is deathly silent; the sun is still hiding beyond the horizon, waiting for its moment.

As I round the corner onto the main avenue, its light finally pierces through a gap in the clouds and shines off the water running under the Omokage bridge. The sight fills me with an indescribable sadness.

I walk past it, and cross the river through the Akebono bridge upstream, instead.

The school day flies by, all prep for entrance exams. An early start and a late finish, with just a short break for homeroom class in the middle. By the end of it, the sun has already began to set. My eyes are bleary, and my head is pounding.

As I step past the school gates on the way home, I’m so disoriented I don’t notice the person in front of me.

“A-ah. I-I’m sorry,” I blurt out. I look up, and my eyes grow wide.

“…Oh. Tomori.”

“Taki-chan,” I whisper. She’s wearing a new jacket over her school uniform; and she looks tired, as always. “I… it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“…Yeah. Sorry I’ve been scarce. Cram school’s got my whole evening these days,” she says.

She gazes out at the distance.

“R-right. …It’s okay.”

“Let’s head home together, yeah? Up to the bridge, at least.”

I nod. We walk in silence for a few minutes, past the post office. Once we break off from the prefectural road and onto the riverside path, the roar of traffic fades away, and an eerie silence washes over us.

“I miss… the band, Taki-chan,” I say as we walk past the Akebono bridge. “A-and Raana-chan does, too, you know.”

The sky fades from orange into a deep crimson. An old lady walks past us with her dog. In the distance, a murder of crows scatters from a tree.

“…It’s just the entrance exams, Tomori,” Taki finally says. “Everyone’s busy. We’ll have plenty of time next year. Promise.”

Her words calm the awful churning in my stomach, if only slightly.

“Taki-chan.” I turn to her and lightly take her hand. “W-won’t you come over to our place? We can have… hot pot. Or curry. Like we used to.”

Taki takes a deep breath. “…Sure,” she says. “I did swear I’d make sure you two were eating right.”

Loaded down with grocery bags, we burst through the front door. I say we’re home and peek into our bedroom.

Raana is there, wearing headphones and strumming away at her guitar. She shifts an earcup off and looks past her laptop and at me.

“Raana-chan. L-Look who I brought.” I step away.

“Rikki!” Raana’s eyes light up. She ditches her gear and gives Taki a diving tackle-hug.

Taki only barely stops her without falling backwards. “Yeah, yeah,” she murmurs, with a smile. “Missed you too, stray.”

Still clinging to her, Raana peeks into the plastic bags set on the floor. “Get me anything?,” she asks.

“Oh, you little… yes, there’s a couple matcha coronets somewhere in there.”

With a giggle, Raana skips past her and starts rifling through our groceries, while Taki grumbles something about spoiling her appetite.

It’s been so long since I saw the two of them like this. I can’t help but smile.

The pot boils away atop the kotatsu, stuffed full of beef and vegetables and soba noodles. From it, a gentle warmth emanates and spreads through the room.

“I… I think it’s almost ready.”

Raana looms menacingly over its contents.

“Just about,” Taki says. “I’ll ladle it out.”

“Taki-chan. How’s… the studying been?”

She pours some of the stew into a bowl and hands it to Raana, who digs into it without a word.

“Fine. I’m not too worried.”

“B-but… you must be really lonely. Staying alone in that house…”

She sets out another bowl in front of me. “I don’t… mind the quiet.”

I stare at the little specks of oil dancing atop the broth.

“I… I really do think you should move in with us, Taki-chan.”

Her expression changes right away, but I can’t read it at all.

“I couldn’t.” Finally, she serves herself. “There’s barely enough room here for the two of you.”

“T-that’s… not true,” I whimper. “We could… make it work. Or… or get a bigger place.”

“…Tomori, I’m fine on my own. You worry too much.” She takes a sip of the broth. “Besides, you can’t really afford a bigger place, can you?”

I shrink into myself. I can’t find an answer.

“Stray. Are you even actually making any money busking? You’re not putting it all on Tomori, are you?”

“Shure I am,” Raana answers, before gulping down her food. “Not just busking. I got a ChouYube channel, too. Ad revenue.”

Taki sighs. “I really can’t picture that.”

The evening wears on. We talk about a hundred little things, about the band, about college, the future. By the time I remember to look at the clock, it’s already half past ten.

“Crap. I really ought to go.” Taki slides out from under the kotatsu. “Gotta catch up on some assignments.”

It wells up inside me again. That indescribable, immeasurable sadness.

Without thinking, I catch her by her sleeve.

“Taki-chan. W-wait.”

“Tomori? What’s up?”

“At least… stay with us tonight.”

Our rickety, twin-size bed barely fits Raana and myself to begin with, but we find a way to make it work. I shift all the way to the edge, letting Taki take the center. Raana jumps in after her, wraps her arms around her waist, and buries her face in the small of her back.

The sheets beneath me shift and tug as they both settle in. The air smells of my shampoo, lingering on Taki’s hair. Outside, a gust of cold wind blows through, and creeps in through the gaps in our window.

“H-how is it?,” I ask.

“It’s… pretty tight,” Taki whispers. Behind her, Raana is already asleep.

“Mm.” I draw the blanket over the three of us. “Too tight?”

“N-no.” Her voice takes on a different color. “It’s… it’s good.”

“Are you… sure, Taki-chan?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, Tomori.”

“S-sorry. I mean, are you sure about… moving?”

Behind me, the alarm clock ticks away.

“I really do think we could… figure something out,” I add.

Taki takes a deep breath. She turns to look at the ceiling.

“I just don’t want to intrude. It wouldn’t feel right.”

“Taki-chan…”

The pit in my stomach grows. I search for the right words to say, but I can’t find a single one.

All I can think to do is cling to her arm.

She reaches over, and turns off Raana’s night light.

“Good night, Tomori,” she says.

“…Good night, Taki-chan.”

Morning comes, but my alarm clock stays silent. It’s Saturday. We sleep in until ten or so.

When I wake up for the third or fourth time, Taki’s sitting at the foot of the bed, getting changed.

“T-Taki-chan.” My voice is hoarse and sluggish. “Don’t you… want to stay for breakfast?”

She says she’s sorry, that she does want to stay, but she has her studies. She doesn’t want to fall behind.

I wake Raana up, and we get dressed to follow her down the stairs and see her off.

Even now, I can’t find the words. All I can do is give her a wave and a smile, and watch as she crosses the Omokage bridge and disappears into the streets beyond.

The Kanda river isn’t even twenty meters wide.

But from here, it looks as insurmountably wide as the ocean.