The Saturday night train out of Shibuya, no matter where you’re headed, is always going to be crowded. This is the natural law of the universe. People bustle around you, crushing you without a care in favor of packing themselves into the train — as is custom, of course. At least you’re not alone, though. You’re shoulder-to-shoulder with your close pal Megumi, who you’ve been messing around with in Tokyo for the larger part of all day. It’s your day off. What was initially supposed to be a first-year bonding experience was whittled down to the two of you when Yuji and Nobara, courteous as they are, cancelled the morning of.

The two of you made the best of things, having spent the day bouncing between Harajuku and other parts of the city like a pair of tourists despite going to school right outside Tokyo. You’ve got shopping bags in your hands, which don’t do any favors for your personal space as more people crowd the train car. The doors eventually close in an act of mercy, and you feel yourself let out a breath. Before you can lean over to say something stupid to Megumi, though, you feel a hand brush against yours. It makes you freeze and look down. His hand, thank god — not a stranger’s, which almost surprises you in an environment like this. There’s something small and white cradled between his fingers. You initially can’t make out its shape, but he presses the thing into your palm, which is still burdened with a few bags. Its size and texture make it clear what it is — an AirPod. How random. You almost feel inclined to laugh as you look up at him, but his eyes urge you on, just tired enough for their underlying sincerity to shine through.

“Take it,” he murmurs. His expression is impassive, but his actions suggest otherwise. “You can pick the first song.”