Chapter Text
chapter one
lives passing by through the window
The bus hummed with that low, steady drone.
Engine, wheels, slow hums of the air conditioner, all of it folding into the same background wash, like the waves of a blue sea crashing against the shore. The seats rattled whenever we crossed a seam in the road, and the overhead lights flickered as though they weren't sure they had to stay awake.
Its 5 PM on a Saturday, and we had the whole thing to ourselves. Empty rows, the faint smell of dust and old fabric, and the city sliding by outside.
Merry was the one who wanted this trip, by the way.
Arashiyama's bamboo forest.
She wanted to see it, compare it to the ones from her dreams. Ah, she truly had drifted too much in that fantasy world, isn’t it? I've been there before. It's just a forest, a nice one, sure, but not exactly worth dragging across town for. Still, if Merry wanted to see it, then here I am, on this bus.
Golden light spilled through the windows, stretching across the aisle. It caught on the plastic handles, the scuffed metal floor, the worn patterns of the seats.
I leaned my head against the glass, cool against my temple, and let my eyes wander over the city. Then, I see people moving about on those grey sidewalks and in those small shops.
Families eating in small restaurants. Salarymen drifting toward bars, or maybe home. An old woman sweeping the entrance of her narrow shop, broom dragging slow arcs across the pavement.
These people...
They surely had somewhere to be today, or tomorrow. Perhaps, someone was on their way to spend time with their families. Someone else might be carrying home the best news of their life, while another would would go home and sleep their tiredness away.
And, I would never know.
Each scene blinked past before I could hold onto it. Window, moment, gone.
I let my head rest against the glass, cold against my skin, and followed the rhythm of it. For a second, it felt like I was drifting out of myself, sinking into all those half-lives passing by.
A gentle tap landed on my shoulder.
I turned.
Her hair caught the fading light, each strand glowing faint gold wherever the sun managed to find them.. Her eyes were soft, too far away to pin down.
“Doesn’t it feel strange?” she asked quietly.
“What does?”
"How quickly a moment stops belonging to us."
I looked outside again.
The bus had already carried us past the florist.
"I guess..."
She smiled, though it seemed meant more for the city than for me.
"All those people." Her voice was barely louder than the engine. "Each of them is living a life as complete as ours."
I watched the strangers cross the intersection, yet none of them looked our way.
"We only ever see a page," she continued. "Sometimes not even that. Just a sentence."
"...Then what are we to them?"
She paused for a moment. “Probably the same.”
The answer was so simple that it left nowhere for my thoughts to hide.
I turned back toward the window, pretending I just wanted to watch the sunset, before she could notice the warmth gathering behind my eyes.
The city softened and blurred behind the raindrops.
The bus rocked gently as it turned, the whole world tilting with it. Streetlights bloomed one by one. The golden light stretched across rooftops, tangled in power lines, slipped into narrow alleys already swallowed by shadow.
I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and the city became clearer now.
Somewhere, a bicycle bell rang once, then dissolved into the traffic. A restaurant door opened, spilling laughter onto the pavement before quietly closing again.
The bus continued forward.
People appeared.
People disappeared.
Those people never stopped introducing themselves, yet never stayed long enough to be known.
Perhaps we were no different.
Somewhere beyond this window, we had already become part of someone else's passing evening—noticed for a heartbeat, forgotten before the next traffic light.