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“Gotta love when it starts to get colder outside.”
Nakahara Chuuya stands tall, his gait slow and practiced as he observes the browning leaves of Yokohama. The porkpie hat on his head remained still as the slight breeze raked through his long jacket. An expensive watch gleamed on his wrist as the two of you trek through the nearest park.
During mid-week early afternoon, the place is practically deserted, allowing the both of you to focus inward. He’d invited you out on a whim, and as usual, he didn’t beat around the bush:
“It’s been a tough season, hasn’t it?”
An understatement, really, and he knew it.
“Seems like it’s getting rougher and rougher every damn year. But its worth it during the downtimes, at least to me.”
The silence stretches out, almost uncomfortably so. The sound of the pair of steps echo against the nearby maple trees, which are beginning to wilt as they always do every year. Chuuya glances your way and let out a soft breath before he buried a hand into his pocket: a tic of his that you knew of.
“Not to get on some convoluted soap box but…” Chuuya stops after looking upward for a beat. “...take it easy on yourself. You’re doing just fine. We’re all new at this ‘life’ bullshit, and there isn’t any ‘right’ way to live. You just… do.”
The wind picked up slightly at the end of his sentence and you flinched at something that flew to Chuuya and landed on the brim of his hat. He stiffened, but gently reached up and scoffed fondly at the reddening maple leaf he held.
“Huh, would’ya look at that… almost like it heard me.”
Chuuya chuckled softly as he observed the leaf, a fond expression taking over his face, before he turned to you. His face is ever-so gentle as he deposits the leaf between your cold, outstretched fingers.
The maple leaf crinkles ever-slightly between your fingertips and you rubbed the rough surface as delicately as you could manage.
Chuuya smiles down at you and the maple leaf in your grasp:
“This is for you. Don’t forget what I said, yeah?”