The board clicked. A train rolled into “now.” Momoka still breathed lightly against Haruki’s sleeve, the moment held like steam in a cup.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSTiGPRe1vs
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“Attention, please,” the station said. Her ear twitched; he raised his hand near it, shielding her from the world with a quiet gesture. “Mmm… fish milk later,” she murmured, tail curling once. Across the way, the book-woman smiled just enough to say: carry on.
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Haruki glanced at the board. The train waited. He didn’t move.
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Momoka stirred. Eyes blinked open, landing on blanket, bench, shoulder. “Ahh—Momoka drooled!” she whispered, mortified. She sat up, ears fluffed, tail stiff. Her gaze swept the platform; the doors had closed.
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“Oh no… was that mine?”
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Haruki nodded, gently. “Maybe.”
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She blinked. “Trial shift,” she mumbled. “Warm café… windows…” Then, like a cat remembering its manners, she rummaged and produced a strawberry milk with careful ceremony. “Compensation,” she said, pressing it into his hands. “For brave pillows. Nya.”
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He smiled, quiet. Her fingers had warmth. The carton was cool. The sip tasted like childhood.
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“Haruki,” he offered softly. She repeated it—Ha-ru-ki—then tilted her head. “Haruki-san… no. Haru-kun.” A bell sticker from her wallet found his cuff. “Now official.”
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She spotted the lingering drool-cloud on his shoulder and dabbed it away. “Sorry-sorry,” she said. “You’re a good bench.”
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He laughed softly. The book-woman turned a page like punctuation.
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A second chime sounded. “Platform five,” Momoka read, ears lifting. “Me too.”
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Haruki stood with her. The bench cooled.
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Doors parted. She turned back, smiling. “Let’s not miss this one, Haru-kun.”
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and then Add to home screen.