They sat on a low wall outside the convenience store, the kind of place everyone passes but never really looks at. It was late afternoon, and the sun had started softening, casting everything in a hazy golden glow.
Each of them had a drink. Ryota had milk tea, Junpei had sports drink, and Sota, as usual, had water.
"Ever think about how weird it is that we're just… people?" Ryota said, kicking a rock across the sidewalk. "Like, we exist. For no real reason."
Sota glanced over. "What kind of milk tea did you buy?"
"The normal one."
"That explains it."
Junpei took a sip from his bottle. "He's not wrong, though. We go to school, we eat the same lunch most days, we sit on this wall, we talk about nothing… and one day, we just won't anymore."
The silence that followed wasn't awkward—it just hung there, quiet and thoughtful, like a breath held too long.
"I think about that sometimes," Sota admitted. "How every day feels kind of pointless, but it still… matters. Not because anything big happens. Just because we were here."
"Exactly," Ryota said, surprisingly serious now. "Like, today isn't important, but it's ours."
Junpei nodded. "Even when we don't do anything, we're still collecting something. Moments. Thoughts. Feelings we can't explain."
They sat in silence for a bit, watching people pass by: a kid chasing a soccer ball, an old man walking his dog, a girl with headphones walking like the world wasn't even real.
Junpei broke the silence. "Being human is weird. You feel everything and nothing at the same time. You make memories with people who might not be around forever. And you never know which random day you'll remember ten years from now."
"I think I'll remember this one," Sota said, looking up at the sky.
"Why?"
"No reason. Maybe because we talked like this."
Ryota finished his milk tea and held up the empty bottle like a toast. "Here's to pointless days that make us feel a little more real."
They clinked plastic bottles, like idiots pretending to be poets, and sat there a little longer, letting the sun sink lower behind the buildings.
It wasn't dramatic.
It wasn't loud.
But somehow, it felt like everything.