Chapter 15: The Coin Flip

The evening sky was painted with streaks of orange and violet, the kind of colors that only lasted for a moment before slipping into dusk. Ren stood at the edge of a pedestrian bridge that arched over the river, his arms resting on the cool metal railing. The water below rippled gently, catching glimmers of fading sunlight.

A breeze stirred, ruffling his hair, and for a moment, Ren let himself forget everything—no time machines, no rewinds, no fractured timelines. Just the sound of water moving steadily beneath him, the rhythm of a city winding down for the night.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a coin he had been absentmindedly fiddling with all day. It wasn’t special—just a 100-yen piece, scratched and worn from years of circulation. But for some reason, it felt like the kind of object that carried weight. Like it mattered.

Ren rolled the coin between his fingers, its cool surface grounding him. “One flip,” he whispered to himself, “and I’ll stop thinking about the past.”

It was a ridiculous idea—trying to decide his future with something as random as a coin flip. But maybe that was the point. For the first time in a long while, Ren didn’t have a plan. No timelines to fix, no paths to perfect. Just this moment, balancing on the edge of possibility.

He closed his eyes, letting the cool night air fill his lungs. “Heads,” he muttered, “I call Hana tomorrow. Tails... I move on.”

The coin rested heavily between his thumb and forefinger. It felt like a small, final choice—something he could commit to, no matter the outcome.

Taking a deep breath, Ren flicked his thumb.

The coin spun through the air, catching the light as it tumbled end over end. For a brief second, Ren thought about snatching it out of the air, rewinding the toss like he used to rewind his mistakes. But that wasn’t an option anymore.

No more cheats. No more do-overs.

The coin hit the railing with a sharp clink, bounced once, and tumbled toward the edge.

Ren lunged, his heart leaping into his throat, but he was too late. The coin slipped through the gap in the railing and plummeted toward the river below, disappearing with a soft plop into the water’s surface.

Ren stared at the spot where it had vanished, his breath catching. “Of course,” he muttered bitterly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Figures it’d end like that.”

He leaned back against the railing, folding his arms across his chest. He had been hoping for an answer—something simple, clear, definite. But instead, the universe had given him the same thing it always did: uncertainty.

“Guess that’s my answer,” Ren whispered to the river, his voice lost in the hum of the city around him.

He stayed there for a while, watching as the lights of the city flickered on, one by one. Somewhere in the distance, a train rumbled past, and the faint sound of laughter drifted up from the street below. Life, as always, moved forward—unconcerned with the things Ren carried.

Just as he was about to leave, a familiar voice called out from behind him.

“Hey, Takahashi!”

Ren turned, his heart skipping a beat. Shun jogged toward him, his backpack slung lazily over one shoulder and an easy grin plastered across his face.

“There you are,” Shun said, catching his breath. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Ren raised an eyebrow. “What for?”

“Figured you’d need company.” Shun leaned against the railing beside him, peering down at the river. “What’s with the dramatic bridge-staring thing? You okay?”

Ren gave a half-smile, grateful for the familiar presence. “Just thinking.”

Shun pulled out a pack of gum from his pocket, offering Ren a piece. “Dangerous habit. Want to talk about it?”

For a moment, Ren considered brushing it off. But then, something about Shun’s easygoing presence made it feel okay to be honest.

“I was trying to make a decision,” Ren admitted, unwrapping the gum. “Thought flipping a coin would help.”

Shun snorted. “A coin flip? Classic.” He chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “So, what was the verdict?”

Ren chuckled, shaking his head. “It fell into the river.”

Shun burst out laughing, the sound infectious. “Of course it did! That’s so you, man.”

Ren couldn’t help but laugh along. It felt good—simple, unforced. Like a small reminder that not every moment needed to be perfect to matter.

They stood in comfortable silence for a while, watching the city come to life under the cover of night. Ren let the moment settle, realizing he didn’t need to make any grand decisions tonight. Maybe life wasn’t about perfect answers. Maybe it was about the things that happened in between—the missed coin flips, the unexpected laughter, the friends who showed up when you needed them most.

“You know,” Shun said thoughtfully, “if a coin’s the best you got, maybe it’s not really about heads or tails.”

Ren raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Shun grinned. “I mean, if it really mattered that much, you wouldn’t leave it to chance.”

Ren blinked, the weight of those words settling over him. He hadn’t thought of it that way. Maybe the answer wasn’t about whether to hold on or let go—maybe it was about knowing that some things didn’t need to be decided at all.

Shun clapped him on the back. “Come on. Let’s grab some food before the night’s over. There’s a new ramen place a couple blocks away—supposed to be amazing.”

Ren smiled, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. “Yeah,” he said, falling into step beside his friend. “That sounds good.”

As they made their way down the bridge, Ren glanced back at the river one last time. The coin was gone, lost to the current. And that was okay.

Because for the first time, Ren didn’t need the outcome. He just needed the next step.

As the two friends disappeared into the bustling streets, the ticking of Ren’s watch steady against his wrist, he knew that whatever came next, he was ready to face it—one moment at a time.