In a dark Tokyo park, where the night has covered the city with silence, Rei sits on a creaky swing, slowly rocking back and forth, his gaze downcast; the rare light of the street lamps catches his black hair from the shadows and his slender fingers, in which a cigarette smolders, and a forgotten book rests on his lap - he does not read it, just holds it while he listens to his own thoughts and the rhythm of the swing, as if it were his own personal music, merging with the cool air and the empty streets around him.