They met at the entrance to Ameyoko just as the sun dipped behind the railway tracks, turning the metal beams overhead into silhouettes crisscrossing the orange sky. The evening trains roared past with the familiar tremble of steel, but neither of them noticed—Jun was too busy brushing lint from his jacket, and Aki was pretending not to watch him do it.
Ameyoko at dusk had a breath of its own. Vendors calling out discounts, the scent of grilled squid drifting between stalls, piles of fruit glowing under hanging bulbs, the clatter of coins, the promise of everything cheap and everything possible. For young lovers, it was the perfect setting: loud enough to hide their nervousness, bright enough to amplify it.
Jun offered his hand shyly. Aki hesitated only long enough to make him sweat, then slipped her fingers through his. Her hand was cold; his was trembling. It felt right.
They walked slowly, as if they had a whole lifetime to cover the few hundred meters of market street. Aki stopped at a stall selling glossy candied strawberries and held one up against the neon signs above them.
“It looks like it’s glowing,” she said.
“Like you,” he replied too quickly.
She laughed—soft but triumphant. She would remember that line for years, long after its awkwardness turned sweet.
Further down, a shopkeeper shouted, “Everything half off! Last sale of the day!” The lovers were jostled by crowds of bargain hunters, but Aki leaned into Jun’s shoulder instead of away. He bought her a pair of cheap silver earrings shaped like stars. She bought him nothing but a look he would replay for the rest of the night.
Under the elevated tracks, the two paused. Sparks from a yakitori grill drifted upward, and a group of salarymen toasted loudly at a nearby stand. Trains rumbled above, sending brief gusts of wind through the space, lifting Aki’s hair. Jun reached out to fix a strand, surprising even himself.
“Can I…,” he began.
She lifted her chin just slightly. Permission in the smallest gesture.
He kissed her—awkward, brief, but real. The kind of kiss that feels like the first brick in a future you don’t yet know how to build.
When they pulled apart, Ameyoko kept moving around them: vendors closing shop, shoppers rushing for the last train, laughter echoing down the narrow alleys. But for a few seconds, the world felt suspended, as if even the trains were holding their breath.
Aki squeezed his hand.
Jun smiled like he finally belonged somewhere.
And beneath the tracks of Ameyoko, their young love found its first home.