Work Text:
R I K O
Yocchan looks so peaceful.
With a light thud faintly ringing between several delicate pages of a hardback novel, I close the book. I notice that one corner of her mouth is curled into a smile as she mumbles happily through her sleep, occasionally shuffling around in the cafe chair. For a while, I remain in my own seat as if my hand is trapped under hers. Yocchan's hands are always significantly warm and welcoming long after they've left the smooth cardboard holding together her cup of bitter coffee. There's a reasonable possibility that my hands would feel the same if the former was the case. But it rarely is. I should know that by now.
We run adjacent rival cafes, our shifts going forth into the calm evenings lit up by a lantern here and there. Those lanterns rise from the shore of Uchiura, and they burn memories into the night sky, which, according to You Watanabe, knows everything there is to know.