Chapter Text
Day 1
Doughnuts / First Date
This definitely was not a date that Nene would see in movies.
There was no coffee shop meet-up, no window shopping, no choosing clothes for each other in random thrift stores along the way, not even being greeted by a bouquet of roses. Her partner wasn’t being basked in the neon lights of a big city, nor was he hiding from rabid fans who were attempting to steal him away.
All things considered, it felt very much like every other Tuesday afternoon.
The sun was beginning to set over Tokyo, and Nene looked at the sight wistfully, sighing in contempt as the buzz of the suburbs played a muted melody in her ears. Here, on the roof of the school building was nothing that could disturb her special moment, save for a few mokke chasing each other by the flower pots on the far right edge of the roof. And honestly, even though there were no camera flashes, or sudden plot twists happening around her, the date, yes, a date, was going surprisingly well.
“Yashiro? What are you looking at?” another voice rang out, muffled slightly by a mouthful of doughnut in the speaker’s mouth. She turned her head to look at the boy sitting cross-legged next to her, his eyes almost as golden as the sun that was setting in the west.
“Just the sunset. It’s like something out of a shoujo manga.” she smiled, slightly embarrassed at the comparison. “Do you like the doughnuts, Hanako-kun?” she added, glancing at the quickly decreasing stack of deep-fried goods that she painstakingly prepared the night before. There was no answer to her question but a satisfied hum as he bit into yet another ring covered with colorful icing.
He didn’t comment on them being slightly burned, or the icing being a bit off-color. Hanako was just eating them like his life, or, well, the lack of it, depended on it. And for that little glint of pure happiness, unclouded by the sadness of his past life, the weight of his sins or the lies that he had to throw around to keep both his sanity and the spot as a leader of the Seven Mysteries, she would burn her fingers with oil many more times.
Nene rubbed her hand, covered in band-aids of different colors and patterns. It didn’t sting that much anymore - her mom made sure to clean the small burns and apply for some medicine, but the girl still couldn’t help but worry that it would leave scars. Fat ankles AND scarred fingers? She couldn’t imagine a worse combo.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t realize that the three mokke that were playing tag just a moment ago were now pulling at the hem of her skirt with their ears… hands…. things.
“Can we have a donut?” One of them asked, the little beady eyes sparkling in hope - if they had a visible mouth, Nene was sure they would be drooling. Honestly, it made her ego grow just a little bit; her creations looked appetizing enough for an apparition to take interest in it!
“Ah, that’s right, you guys adore sweets~” she cooed as she once again turned towards Hanako. “Would you mind giving one of these up for them? It’s your gift in the end, hehe…”
Hanako pouted childishly.
“But it’s a gift from Yashiro… One that she made just for me! How could I give it to someone else?” he whined, bringing the bag closer to himself. Nene huffed, crossing her arms.
“I can always make you more! I am getting better and better at it!” she proudly stated, and if this was an anime, there would be sparkles flying around her head. Surprisingly, Hanako sighed.
“And lose a finger next?” he muttered, his amber eyes dancing on her wounded hands. He was worried, and Nene felt both her body temperature and her heart rate skyrocket. “I would have to deal with the spirit of that finger and that would be a pain~”
Ah, so he was just teasing her.
“I changed my mind. I would like the bag back.”
“Whaaat? That’s nasty, you can’t just take a gift back like that!”
“Oh I can and I will!”
In the end, the mokke skipped away to their corner, holding a donut each, singing a song about sugar in their small voices, and the rooftop was filled with pearly laughter as Nene Yashiro attempted to wrestle the bag away from Hanako’s clenched fist, not even noticing the tender way in which he avoided irritating her wounded hand.
It wasn’t a perfect first date, but as the cicadas began their evening song and the sun disappeared behind the horizon, the only thing in both of their minds was not the setting, but each other.