Chapter 6: The Train Ride Trouble

The train rocked gently as it sped through the snowy Niigata countryside, the landscape outside painted in shades of white and gray. Haruto Takeda sat stiffly on the plush seat, keeping his posture perfect, as though the very act of sitting improperly might disrupt the delicate order of the universe. Beside him, Kenji Sakamoto sprawled comfortably, legs dangling slightly into the aisle, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

“Are you sure this vacation was necessary?” Haruto asked quietly, glancing at his friend.

“Necessary?” Kenji repeated, eyes sparkling. “Absolutely! What’s better than two families trapped in a moving metal box together? It’s like… domestic survival training!”

Haruto pinched the bridge of his nose, unwilling to argue further. Kenji had a way of making every disaster seem inevitable.

Across the aisle, the Fujimoto family was already settled in. Hiroshi Fujimoto adjusted his glasses nervously, clearly counting the exact number of cushions and bags to ensure everything was in order. Hanako Fujimoto sat elegantly, hands folded on her lap, trying to appear calm despite the faint tension in the air. At her side, ten-year-old Miyu Fujimoto peeked curiously at Haruto and Kenji, a bright smile tugging at her cheeks as she fiddled with her scarf.

Haruto’s eyes, however, were drawn to the girl lounging slightly slouched in the opposite corner. Sakura Fujimoto—messy hair framing her flushed cheeks, lips curved in a mischievous smile—looked far more chaotic than her carefully curated image at home. The faint scent of sake drifted around her, though she waved it off with a casual hand.

Haruto’s stomach sank.

Sakura’s gaze suddenly flicked toward him. With a swift, deliberate motion, she slipped from her seat and ducked behind the luggage rack, her movements almost feline.

“Haruto-kun,” she whispered, leaning toward him carefully, “come here.”

Haruto blinked. “Sakura-san?”

“Yes,” she whispered again, a small hiccup betraying her slightly tipsy state. “I… I need you to… meet me… near the toilet.”

His stomach twisted. “The toilet?”

Sakura nodded, her dark eyes sparkling mischievously. “Yes. I… I have a boyfriend, you know. So… you should… break off the wedding!”

Haruto froze. “You… want me to break off the wedding?” His voice was calm, but inside, a storm raged. He had expected chaos from Sakura, of course, but nothing had prepared him for this: her laughter, her careless eyes, the casual way she tried to manipulate him while slightly drunk.

Sakura leaned closer, her small frame wobbling slightly. “Please, Haruto-kun… I’m serious. Don’t make me beg.”

Haruto’s lips pressed into a thin line. He swallowed hard, struggling to maintain his composed exterior. Inside, he felt a sharp pang of sadness. He had liked her genuinely, and yet here she was, trying to push him away with giggles and drunken confidence.

Kenji, observing the entire exchange from across the aisle, leaned back with exaggerated solemnity. “Ah… men,” he said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “We are doomed from birth. Cursed, truly cursed. Women… they haunt us from the very beginning, planting seeds of confusion and heartbreak even before we can learn to tie our own shoelaces properly.”

Haruto groaned silently. “Kenji… please. Not now.”

But Kenji was unstoppable. “I mean it! Day one—women: 1. Men: 0. Then adolescence, heartbreak, first love… and here you are, cursed again! We die, and then we haunt them from beyond the grave, unable to move on because… because of this emotional trickery!”

Haruto buried his face in his hands, exhaling sharply. “You’re unbelievable.”

Sakura, overhearing Kenji’s dramatic monologue, hiccupped and laughed. “Oh? Cursed? Really?” she teased, leaning casually against a luggage rack. “Sounds like you’re just making excuses for not being able to handle me, Haruto-kun.”

Haruto’s eyes narrowed, but he could not suppress the faint twitch of a smile. Despite the hurt her words caused, there was something about her unpolished charm—the way she laughed, the way she leaned so carelessly—that made it impossible for him to stay entirely serious.

He looked away from her and glanced out the window. Snowflakes danced past, drifting lazily over the frozen fields. The world outside seemed calm, orderly, and serene. Inside the train carriage, however, the chaos of emotions, unspoken feelings, and family anticipation created a storm far louder than any blizzard.

“I… I don’t understand her sometimes,” he muttered under his breath to no one in particular.

Kenji, still grinning, leaned closer. “Understand her? Ha! That’s the first mistake, my friend. You don’t understand… you survive. You endure. You try not to die of heartbreak while being haunted for the rest of your life.”

Haruto sighed, shaking his head. “Kenji… you make it sound like… like a horror story.”

“Exactly!” Kenji exclaimed. “And the worst part? You’re the protagonist, Haruto. Your tragedy is her comedy. Welcome to romance!”

Haruto glanced back at Sakura. She was giggling quietly to herself, eyes sparkling with mischief, utterly unaware—or perhaps entirely aware—of the emotional impact of her words.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, exhaled slowly, and returned his gaze to the passing snow. Somewhere inside him, a quiet resolve formed: whatever chaos she brought, he would endure. He didn’t fully understand her, but he didn’t want to walk away either.

Kenji nudged him lightly. “See? You’re already doomed. But… it’s kind of fun, isn’t it?”

Haruto let out a small, almost imperceptible laugh. “Fun… in moderation.”

Sakura’s laugh floated from the corner again, soft, careless, intoxicating. And Haruto, conflicted, saddened, yet oddly amused, realized that this vacation—and whatever unpredictable events it brought—was only the beginning.