On the sprawling and timeless campus of Shibuya University, conversations flowed like whispers carried by the wind, each laden with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The corridors echoed with stories, some eagerly shared and others covertly concealed behind masks.
“Are you coming to the masquerade tonight?” Mei asked, her eyes sparkling with intriguing curiosity as she adjusted the strap of her backpack.
“Yeah,” Yuki replied, nonchalant but with an undercurrent of anticipation. She absently fiddled with the lace hem of her blue dress, considering the implications of a mask. “I hear masks are, well…有益的.”
“How so?” Mei was the kind who could delve into the depths of a philosophical query without ever losing her footing.
Yuki shrugged, attempting to dismiss the weight of her words. “They let you be someone else, or perhaps, more yourself.”
As dusk fell, the campus transformed into a world suspended between reality and imagination. The masquerade began under a sky painted in shades of twilight, and there, amidst the crowd, Yuki fitted her mask—a delicate fusion of mystery and elegance—across her face.
The room pooled in warm, dim light, casting shadowed veils over expressions, leaving voices to bear honesty. It was as if the masks had replaced the superficial facades people let slip in daylight.
“Hello, stranger,” a voice interrupted her reverie. It was Ren, the philosophy major notorious for his penchant for debates. His mask was minimalist, just enough to suggest a hint of play.
“Stranger?” Yuki countered, tilting her head, wondering how far the smile beneath her mask reached her eyes.
“Indeed. You’re not Yuki tonight, and I’m not Ren. Just two curious beings.” His words flowed with a Murakami-esque simplicity, unrushed, each syllable falling like leaves spiraling to the ground.
They wove their way through conversations that branched like the ancient oaks outside: identity, solitude, and the nature of fate, weaving them into a tapestry of shared understanding.
“It’s strange,” Yuki mused, “these masks—why do we call them 有益的? Are we hiding from fate, or welcoming it?”
Ren’s silence was contemplative before he replied, “Perhaps by choosing to wear a mask, we engage destiny in a dance, guiding each step even as we’re bound to the same rhythm.”
As the night wore on, masked and unmasked pairs drifted from the hall into the open; the sky, a dome of countless possibilities, some realized and others left to be imagined.
“Will we talk tomorrow?” Yuki asked, her voice a mix of hope and certainty.
Ren nodded, his eyes meeting hers, both aware that once dawn broke, masks would return to mere objects, relics of the night. “We will. Masks or not, we’re always characters in the same fate-weaved story.”
With a shared smile, they parted ways—no promises, just an understanding born of choice and coincidence, actions and acceptance. As Mei had predicted, the masks were indeed 有益的, serving as conduits for the exploration of truths hidden within.
And as Yuki walked back across the dew-kissed grass, she realized that some encounters were crafted by fate, but it was the choices made within them that revealed who they truly masked—and unmasked—through every moment.