Above her, the ink of the night envelops the buzzing cascade of tungsten lights. Her eyes, transfixed, gently lilts from one pocket of artificial brightness to another. Her gait was slow but certain -- focused on keeping a gentle cadence, giving her time to carve tonight's neon canvas into her mind.
And beside her was Mayama. He, too, had been transfixed, but not just at the evening scenery. His gaze was measured, even cautious; he did not want the auburn-haired girl to feel anything less but at ease. But he glimpsed just enough to see the twinkling in Yui's eyes -- on how her face fills with quiet satisfaction as they strolled along the evening avenues. They would converse, and their sing-song would placidly echo across the empty roads. The peace of her voice brought him comfort, and brought out from him emotions he long thought dwindled.
At the time, there was a definite border between him and Yui. It was a boundary they both silently respected, even though both actually sought to break it. Despite this, the neon evening made Mayama feel as if those bounds did not exist.
As he tried to catch a glimpse of Yui's expression, he quietly wondered if Yui felt the same.
Mayama walks by, his gaze tilted upwards. He looks at the tungsten lights and the fluorescent signs -- then at the dazzling woman beside him --
-- Yui was the brightest light tonight.
