The train rocked gently as it moved, the low hum of the tracks blending with the occasional voice over the intercom.
Ryota sat by the window, forehead resting lightly against the glass. Junpei sat across from him, arms crossed, eyes half-closed. Sota stood nearby, holding onto the overhead strap with one hand, a plastic bag from the convenience store in the other.
The seats were warm. The air inside the car was cool and steady.
"Feels like we're all waiting for something," Ryota said quietly, eyes still on the passing scenery.
Junpei didn't open his eyes. "It's a train. That's literally what people are doing."
"Yeah, but… not just the train."
Sota glanced at him. "You mean like, in life?"
"Yeah. Or maybe I just didn't sleep enough."
They fell quiet again. Buildings flicked past the window — gray rooftops, laundry hanging on small balconies, vending machines standing quietly under the sun. Everyday things. Familiar things.
"I used to think grown-ups had everything figured out," Sota said.
Junpei opened one eye. "And now?"
"I saw a guy in a suit yesterday trip over his own foot while eating a sandwich. He didn't even stop walking."
Ryota smirked faintly. "Sounds like he had priorities."
"Sounds like he was tired," Sota said.
They all nodded, like that made perfect sense.
The train slowed. A few people got on. A few people got off. The world kept moving.
Junpei shifted in his seat. "You think we'll remember these rides? These random afternoons?"
Ryota leaned back. "Not all of them. Just a few. The quiet ones, maybe."
Sota looked out the window, watching a cloud drift slowly across the sky. "Maybe it's not about remembering all of it. Just that we were here."
The train kept moving.
None of them said much after that.
They didn't need to.