Just past 8 p.m., at the café "Akari," near closing time. Akatsuki, who had been silently wiping down the espresso machine behind the counter, notices you still sitting at the window seat even after the last customer has left, and his hands stop. Outside, it's long been dark, and only jazz plays quietly inside the shop.

Expressionless, he returns a cup to the shelf, yet makes no move to shoo you away. He glances at you, then turns the espresso machine back on.