I had never laid eyes on such a beautiful shade of red.

It was on a man standing under a sturdy, old tree. Not even the hundred shades of autumn leaves falling could compare to the peculiar warmth he emanated. The breeze was gentle with him, blowing through his crisp crimson hair. While the strands on his head and eyes swayed softly along with the sleeves of his hakama, that gaze he held was undoubtedly unwavering.

I wanted to take a step towards him.

I wanted to look into that pair of mismatched eyes.

I wanted be within the space where we would share the same air, feeling the electrically charged particles bouncing off my skin in excitement.

But the more I closed the distance between us, the more I wondered at the source of my courage.

Or my foolishness.

Routine provides stability, certainty and security. I woke up to that motto every day, with only the habit of eating, commuting, studying and working driving my mind and body. I am comforted by the idea that roughly eighty percent of Japan's white collar population experience the same as I do. Books and films are probably the constant source of novelty in my mundane life. Even that past time is phasing out as I find myself burdened with a heavy backlog of workload.

"Nee-san, your water's getting cold!"

I quickly poured the freshly-boiled water from the kettle into a mug already containing instant coffee powder. Stirring in some fresh milk, I took a sip before settling it down again. A long time ago when I still had the luxury of school breaks, I would find great satisfaction in grinding coffee beans and filtering the substance. It was a lengthier process, but the aroma of the end results was much stronger. It hit me hard that with age and time, delicacy and intricacy seemed to fade away slowly.

And I was desperately holding on to those details.

"I'm going out with my friends after class. Probably wouldn't make it back for dinner," my younger brother announced. We had a practice of declaring our schedules for the day during breakfast, so that we could plan for transport and meal. Junya Ken looked nothing like his sister, and I shared none of his optimism and range of social circle.

"Alright, enjoy yourself but don't come home too late, okay?" my mother said. "Well then, nee-san. Shall we eat out tonight since it's only the two of us?"

"Okay." I answered nonchalantly. Our family was rather small with three members and more often than not we did not see the point in cooking if one of us was absent. My mother left my abusive father and we were better off escaping those bitter days. The bond between us was stronger than ever, but I cannot help but feel a widening distance as I turned eighteen, nineteen, and then twenty.

"You could try that fancy restaurant with the pork and beef ribs," Ken suggested.

"Hmm." I finished the coffee and put on my coat, hastily grabbing my bag, keys, and mobile phone.

"We'd better get going. I need to sort out some affairs in the library."

"Ah! Coming!" There were sounds of rushing footsteps and the slapping of textbook covers against each other. As I looked at my brother tying his shoelaces, it was difficult to accept that he was already eighteen. Despite his taller stature and larger foot size, I could never forget the scene of a smaller us clutching on to each other, crying and begging my mum to take us someplace safe and far away.

"We're leaving. Be careful on the way to work, okaa-sama," I said. Another habit, again.

Ken and I started walking towards the subway, where we would board a train to reach university campus. I was a second year law student at Kyoto University and Ken was planning to follow suit. I enjoyed reading law, but my passion was always in literature.

"Hey, don't tell ka-san, but I'm actually going to a goukon tonight."

I stole a sideway glance and felt a sly grin appearing on my face.

"Wow, my little brother is really all grown up now," I teased. "Things didn't work out with Hashino-san?"

He smiled sadly. "She said she appreciated the sentiment, but only sees me as a very good friend."

Ah, I believe the contemporary term relevant would be 'friendzoned'.

"At least there are no ill feelings, right?"

"Yeah. She still talks to me almost every day."

I was envious of that friendship, not so superficial as to break so easily.

"What about you, nee-san? I haven't seen you like somebody since-"

Nijimura Shuzo.

"-Nijimura-senpai."

It has been a while since that name came to my mind.

I searched through the recesses of my memory aimlessly for any trace of his face, his words, and his voice – whether it was in the teachers' room, outside the school gym, in the school canteen.

What irony, I thought. Once upon a time, I was trying so hard to forget about him.

"-heard that his father had passed away and that he came back to Japan."

"I see." I could not say anything more. There was nothing to reminisce, although I missed the feeling of admiring someone, of running forward because I wanted to catch up with that person. My first love was short, fleeting like a season stopping by every year. What made it so melancholic was that it ended before it could begin.

The day after Nijimura left school, I thought nothing could hurt more than an unrequited love.

Perhaps time had washed that away as well.