The platform was crowded with the usual evening rush.
People stood in small clusters beneath the overhead lights, checking their phones or watching the electronic sign that flickered with the arrival times.
Steve and Mizuki stood near the edge of the platform.
Neither of them had spoken for several minutes.
Mizuki stared down the tracks, his hands in the pockets of his coat.
Steve shifted his weight slightly.
"Well," Mizuki said quietly.
"That didn't go exactly the way I thought it would."
Steve gave a small breath of laughter.
"Yeah," he said.
"That's putting it mildly."
Mizuki didn't smile.
For a moment the only sound between them was the distant rumble of trains moving through the city.
Steve glanced at him.
"You okay?"
Mizuki nodded faintly, though he didn't look convinced himself.
"They just need time," he said.
Steve didn't answer right away.
He remembered the tight expressions on Mizuki's parents' faces. The silence at the table. The careful, strained politeness.
"They love you," Steve said eventually.
Mizuki let out a quiet breath.
"I know."
The announcement for the next train echoed across the platform in Japanese.
A low vibration began to hum beneath the tracks.
Mizuki stepped forward slightly.
Steve frowned.
"Hey," he said.
Mizuki didn't respond.
The distant headlights of the approaching train appeared at the far end of the tunnel.
Steve noticed something suddenly.
Mizuki was standing just beyond the yellow safety line.
"Mizuki," Steve said.
The rumble of the train grew louder.
"Hey," Steve said again, a little sharper now.
"What are you doing beyond the yellow line?"
Mizuki didn't turn around.
The arrival jingle started to play.
The wind from the approaching train rushed through the platform.
The train rushed toward the platform.
For a split second Steve felt something inside him shift — a strange, cold realization that something was terribly wrong.
"Mizuki—"
The rest of the moment disappeared.