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It arrives that first day — a solitary rose dyed in royal purple on her desk, nondescript.
Nothing accompanies it, no attached note or anything. And when Ei asks the security guard stationed at the top-floor office of her company’s building for details, they remark that no one had arrived in the workplace earlier than herself.
Puzzled, Ei decides to just keep the rose instead and arrange it neatly by her stationery organizer. Since she has no time to dig around for a glass jar, Ei simply empties the bottle of water she often carries on her way to work till it’s down by around a half. The contents are poured into a pen holder made of fine yumemiru wood as a temporary placeholder for the rose she drops inside. The matter is quickly forgotten about soon after, though, as Ei becomes too engrossed in overseeing all current operations under the company; reviewing the progress reports on some of their latest projects and meeting deadlines set for the week.
She assumes that might be the end of it when a week passes by all too suddenly for her to give it any more thought. The rose withers, and nothing else shows up at her desk in the days that follow.
On some days, when Ei’s work threatens to overwhelm her, her favorite spot to unwind is at a well-known restaurant situated conveniently about ten minutes away; tucked in the famous commercial street of Inazuma City, right between a coffee shop and a bakery.
As the current CEO of her family’s tech company after her older sister stepped down from the position to be a diplomat, Ei finds it very easy to head down there whenever she has the free time to take a stroll outside. It sure beats having to stay holed up inside her office doing the same mind-numbing work for hours on end, plus she could use the opportunity to get some blood down in her legs and give her sore back a moment’s reprieve after sitting at a desk for too long.
If she comes back with extra dango, well, that’s no one’s business but her own.
On this particular day, Ei pushes open the glass doors of the establishment and finds the cozy atmosphere to be more comforting than usual. Luckily, she arrived just in time to avoid the dinner rush an hour away from the restaurant’s closing. Low-hanging orange and yellow string lights dangle from the ceiling, which exude a warm and comfortable ambience welcoming every patron inside, and the walls are composed of stained dark aralia wood fused with smooth gray stone cladding. Behind the bar counter, there’s a beautiful pink-haired woman in a ponytail wearing a brown apron tied around her waist and the uniform black cap on her head.
Ei brightens at the familiar face, taking her usual spot on one of the available seats by the opposite side of the counter. She patiently waits for the woman to lift her head and is rewarded instantly when the latter meets her eyes before beaming right back.
“Ei! Great to see you again.” She greets, clearly delighted by her appearance.
“Hey, Miko.” Ei returns her enthusiasm with a soft smile of her own. She didn’t know that the other woman had already returned to Inazuma after her trip to Liyue, where she went to visit a good acquaintance of hers from college (Ganyu, if she remembers correctly), so seeing her dear old friend back home again is a pleasant surprise. “It’s been a while since I last saw you.”
“I just got back yesterday,” Yae says, shrugging. “Wanted to see how the business was doing now that Aunt Saiguu decided to go gallivanting around Teyvat with her merry bros. Thoma and Shinobu did an excellent job holding down the fort while I was gone, at least, so things have been going pretty smoothly for us here.”
Ei clears her throat a bit too loudly, her smile stretching even wider as she cocks a brow at Yae.
“Is that really your only reason?”
By now, the two of them are more than familiar and close enough with each other that such teasing is commonplace for them. Normally, with Yae being the instigator of their silly, sometimes childish, banters while Ei plays along to let her indulge in their fun. This happens to be one of the rare occasions wherein Ei initiates the teasing, which is always a treat for Yae to see the more frivolous side of her otherwise stoic demeanor.
Yae’s lips quirk into something indulgent as her amethyst eyes reflect the innate mischievousness of her character, fitting for the sly fox that she is.
“Okay, fine. I admit—I came to see a good friend of mine too. There, you happy now?”
“Very.” Ei nods, looking rather pleased with herself while Yae rolls her eyes fondly. Her chest feels warm, and not just because she’s out of the cold this time. She takes a moment to remove her blazer and hook it around the backrest of her chair before it starts to feel stuffy on her.
“Well then,” Yae drawls. “Let me see if we can whip up something nice for you. What’ll it be tonight, Miss Raiden?”
Ei thinks for a second. “Hmm… I don’t know. Why don’t you surprise me today?” She answers, her head adorably tilted to one side like a puppy as she folds her arms across her chest.
Grinning, Yae accepts the challenge with a coquettish wink in Ei’s direction. This vixen. “Sure. Give me twenty minutes.”
The pinkette waltzes her way over to the kitchen behind her, where Ei can already hear Yae relaying orders to both of her co-workers currently manning the stations once she disappears behind the narrow door. Shortly after, Yae returns with a stein glass of blueberry iced tea because she knows Ei has a sweet tooth and isn’t very fond of alcohol all that much.
Ei watches her silently, enraptured. The sight is endlessly endearing. She treasures these small pockets of time, transient as they are, when the trappings of formality fall away and she can just be calm, easy-going Raiden Ei — not the prim and stiff, workaholic CEO running her family’s business with an iron fist — about to have a nice dinner in the company of her best friend since their early teens. Likewise, Ei is presented with a more unguarded, relaxed version of Yae Miko working behind the bar counter with an easy smile on her face. The woman of a hundred different faces, of a hundred different facades around other people, who is only ever truly vulnerable and transparent when it comes to Ei.
Just then, her phone buzzes from within her messenger bag as she’s taking a sip of her drink. Another reminder of the final diligence meeting with potential shareholders looking to invest in her company, as well as their PR plans for the unveiling of their newest phone model by the end of the month, Ei already knows.
Sighing, Ei sets her mug down and goes to unclasp the flap of her bag so she can fish inside for her laptop. Her fingers brush against something unexpected, however, and Ei digs it out to hold the foreign object against the light.
It’s another purple rose. From inside her messenger bag, this time. How in Celestia’s name did it even…?
There’s a piece of paper coiled around the stem. Ei deposits the rose on the countertop and unrolls the paper with a frown, hardly believing it herself.
mais j’étais trop jeune pour savoir l’aimer.
Ei has to take a minute in order to recall the many French lessons she had back in high school as a mandatory part of their curriculum.
Pour savoir—“But I was too young to know love.” No, “I was too young to know how to love her.”
The words sound familiar, somehow. Ei can’t quite place them, but she has the strangest inexplicable feeling that she should.
“Pretty flower you got there, Ei.”
Yae’s saccharine voice breaks through her little bubble of contemplation once she reappears in her view, having gone to collect all of the trays and empty glasses and cups left along the bar so she can send them back into the kitchen area for cleaning. Ei holds the purple rose up by the stem between her index and thumb for Yae’s inspection as she scrutinizes it with a pensive expression on her face.
Yae hums. “The shade looks lovely. Secret admirer?”
“Maybe.” Ei studies the strange flower with a contemplative eye, the lines of her frown deepening. “I just found it in my bag, though. I have no idea where it even came from or how it managed to get inside in the first place.”
“Someone from your office, perhaps?”
“I hope so…? It would be really creepy otherwise.”
Yae shrugs. “Maybe they’re just shy, you know. Not the type to do a direct confrontation with such a high authority figure.”
Ei scratches her nape. “I suppose… This isn’t the first time it happened, though.”
“Oh?” Yae leans forward with interest, her sharp eyes regarding the purple-haired woman curiously. “You found a rose in your bag before?”
“No, not exactly.” Ei rubs her chin in thought. “There was a rose like this on my desk last week, but I was so swamped with work that it totally slipped my mind. I didn’t think much of it, to be honest.”
“I see…”
The conversation fades away when their attention is snagged by the sound of a service bell ringing in the background, followed by Thoma’s jovial voice calling for Yae through the open slot at the pick-up station. Yae parts from her momentarily to grab the tray of food that he slides over and carry it back to Ei, who takes a long drag of her iced tea while waiting patiently for her. With a flourish (because Yae always has a penchant for the dramatics), she presents a steaming bowl of Fukuuchi Udon noodles topped with sakura-shaped rice cakes and seasoned aburaage that has a cute fox engraved into the larger piece. Paired alongside it is a plate of Sakura Tempura, a small helping of pickled vegetables (one of the banes of Yae’s existence), and a complimentary serving of Tricolor Dango for dessert — Ei’s favorite sweet snack.
“Dinner is served, Your Excellency. Please enjoy.” Yae, this absolute tease, graciously bows with a flirtatious edge in her honeyed words.
Ei clicks her tongue playfully, but she’s already distracted by the delectable spread before her as her mouth begins to water. Archons, she can barely recall the last time she’s had a proper meal that isn’t just takeout or fast food because Ei can’t cook for shit and is way too busy to seek out anything more nutritious or substantial. It’s a wonder how she made it this far into adulthood whilst living alone and managed to not get indigestion or a heartburn somewhere down the road. Her body must be built differently.
The first bite is crisp, her teeth sinking into the fried tofu with a crunch. The second bite is a burst of flavor as she tastes umami on her tongue. Soft, chewy, and savory. A pleased noise surfaces from the back of her throat.
“You like that, huh?” Yae smirks, a hand on her hip. “The tofu is specially made by yours truly. It took several tries for me to get the fox right, but nothing too elaborate. Just a toothpick and soy sauce. We’ll be adding that to all of our udon bowls next week, so consider yourself a premium customer, my dear Ei.”
The older woman mumbles her assent through a mouthful of noodles held up between her chopsticks, the endearment flying over her head because Yae is always saying nonsense things like that towards her.
For a while, all she can focus on is the doughy texture of the springy udon; the spice and sweetness flooding her taste buds in a rush of flavors, which seamlessly compliment one another. It sets a fire inside her stomach, heating her up from the inside. Both the tempura as well as the vegetables make for good side dishes that contrast the brothy noodles, and Ei happily finishes up on her first piece of the breaded shrimp before washing it all down with iced tea.
Thoma and Shinobu truly are culinary geniuses who put a lot of passion in their work — not that she isn’t also giving due credit to Yae for her creativity with the tofu, of course.
Yae takes up their conversation again when her eyes settle back on Ei’s rose.
“So, about that flower… I think you should just wait and see where this goes. For all we know, it could just be a coincidence.”
Ei huffs through her nose. “Giving roses can’t be accidental, Miko.”
“Come now, you might be surprised.” A sing-song lilt is heard in Yae’s voice as she wags her eyebrows. “It’s not as far-fetched as you think. You, of all people, should know that. Remember during high school when you found flowers and chocolate under your desk with Makoto’s name on it?”
She then cracks up in a peal of mellifluous laughter, light and weightless as sakura petals carried off by the wind, when Ei’s expression twists into a grimace.
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” The latter mutters, stabbing her chopsticks into the small bowl of tsukemono with a vengeance so she can nibble on a piece of marinated cucumber. “Like, I get that we’re identical twins. It was easy for people to keep mixing us up back then, especially since we shared most of the same classes together. But the fact that I kept getting mistaken for Makoto meant having to deal with her horde of admirers every week, and they were mostly just opportunistic rats going after her for our name and money. I don’t know how she even had the patience to keep smiling around them and not, like, deck them all in the face for being so desperate and annoying. They were a real headache—particularly on my end since they couldn’t tell us apart at times and thought they were pursuing the same twin.”
“My, my, that must’ve been a terrible experience for you.” Yae sounds genuinely sympathetic.
“Definitely.” Ei groans. “But the chocolates I found under my desk one time were good, at least.”
The pair fall into a companionable silence as Yae cleans up the last of the tableware while Ei moves on to dessert and practically inhales her first stick of dango before diving back in for a second one. Yae seriously took it to heart when she said to surprise her and gave Ei a nice meal set that she knew her best friend would enjoy — which Ei thoroughly did. This thoughtful gesture sends another burst of warmth to surge through her chest like a streak of lightning across thunderclouds.
“You know, back in high school, I didn’t realize your sister would be more popular than you.” Yae ventures after a beat. “People wouldn’t stop talking about you wherever we went. It’s like everyone wanted to know more about Makoto’s shadow twin, so cold and aloof, and mysterious… I think those added a lot to your charms around the campus.”
Ei breathes out a chuckle. “Yeah, well, I was honestly glad they got off my case and put all those rumors to rest once they focused more on Makoto. Would you believe she was such a softie back then? The beloved student council president who’d never say no to anyone in need and still gets scared by a bee? People never could reconcile that to her persona during debate and public speaking competitions. Some thought they wanted to try and understand, others just wanted to be the one who could tame that fiercer side of her—”
Suddenly, her brain short-circuits at the word “tame” and buffers for a split second. Ei immediately jolts in her seat like she’s been struck with a lightning bolt, eyes wide as a realization dawns on her.
“Ei?”
Yae’s voice goes in one ear and exits out of the other by Ei, whose mind kicks into overdrive as it tries to jog her memory and search for any similar references to the word in her mental archives.
Yes! Of course! The memory comes roaring back to her, so potent and strong like rainfall on a stormy night that Ei is ashamed she’s forgotten it. The Little Prince is one of the most prized pieces of literature she owns. It even has a spot on her shelf in the office, bookmarked and annotated to within an inch of its life across the dog-eared pages.
Ei glances down, reading the words once more.
mais j’étais trop jeune pour savoir l’aimer.
Could it be that the piece of paper she’s looking at takes reference to the story? Maybe, maybe not. Like Yae said, it might just be a coincidence. The message is just a little bit generic to begin with.
“Ei, are you alright?” Yae asks when she calls for her again, looking concerned.
“Ah, yes. Sorry,” Ei assures once she turns back to her pink-haired friend, smiling apologetically. “I was just too wrapped up in my thoughts again. No worries.”
It’s probably nothing.
And besides, what are the odds that someone knows her well enough to quote the words of a book Raiden Ei knows by heart?
“In those days, I didn't understand anything. I should have judged her according to her actions, not her words. She perfumed my planet and lit up my life. I should never have run away! I ought to have realized the tenderness underlying her silly pretensions. Flowers are so contradictory! But I was too young to know how to love her…”
The roses come with greater frequency after that, so Ei resigns herself to replacing her pen holder with an actual glass jar instead.
At least once a week, there’s a purple rose that shows up; usually on her desk or sometimes delivered to the reception, and there’s that one memorable time where she found it laying by her front door. It gets the rumor mill going around Ei, most notably because it always comes unmarked. Just a single rose without any note or even a ribbon — except for this last instance on her doorstep, which came with another slip of paper coiled around the stem.
j’ai été sotte, lui dit-elle enfin. je te demande pardon. tâche d’être heureux.
“I was silly,” The flower told him, at last. “I ask for your forgiveness. Strive to be happy.”
It’s only then that Ei knows for sure that her mystery suitor is, indeed, referencing her favorite childhood bedtime story, and this revelation sends her reeling.
Strive to be happy.
While Ei doesn’t know if she had been motivated by this particular factor all her life, she does know that she’s been recently taking active strides towards it on her own accord. She’s been using her weekends to catch up on all of the books she had put off reading in her private library, to visit and explore new places with her trusty old camera in hand, to try out foods she’s not familiar with from other nations and discover hidden culinary delights along the way, and to drop by the local theaters so she can see what interesting movies are being featured.
The fourth option is always a special time; sitting in the dark, ensconced by a greater consciousness while hovering on the edges herself, has regularly been Ei’s preferred method of being happy anyway. She doesn’t need the company of a great many people to be happy.
When Ei does find herself starved for company, though, she visits Makoto and they can usually decide on something fun to amuse themselves with — whether it’s Ei trying to learn how to cook simple ramen with mushrooms and soft-boiled eggs (so far, her best and only semi-edible dish after countless failed attempts and a burnt pot in the process) or playing video games together in the comfort of Makoto’s wide living room. Ei has also recently taken to visiting Yae more often. Be it at the restaurant whenever Yae is needed there as an extra set of hands, or at her cozy one-bedroom apartment where they would recline on the sheets to binge-watch content on Ei’s Netflix account.
Sometimes, they would just do their own thing and merely opt to spend their time in each other’s presence. Breathing the same air, in the same space together.
Moments like these are meaningful enough on their own, at least to Ei, because the simplicity and comfort of sharing the same space with someone who truly makes you feel at peace is so rare to find these days. And so, Ei treasures every single one of these fleeting moments of contentment that she gets to spend with both her twin sister Makoto and her dearest friend Yae. Cherishes them, like one does when they find something to love and hold dear.
The present is eternal and our only certainty, so why not make the best out of this life by experiencing it?
On other occasions, Ei hangs out with some of her old college buddies (read: Chiyo and Sasayuri) who would drag the introverted homebody out to town and do whatever suits them fancy. However, those come with less frequency nowadays since quite a few of her friends are beginning to settle down and start families of their own with their respective partners; which is something Ei would never begrudge them for.
But it does mean she can’t exactly ask for any of their advice, though. How can she explain the frequent pounding in her chest when Ei understands that whoever her secret admirer is, they’re trying to reach out to her with something that means the world to her? When for every rose, each one carefully dethorned, there are exactly four ridges where four thorns had been?
Ei wants to learn. Whoever it is who’s made her feel younger than she has in years, who makes people she works with treat her like she’s actually her age and not merely tired or overworked, Ei wants to know. She wants to thank them for giving back the parts of herself she’d long forgotten about, like the giddy sense of excitement from another quote she recognizes. A kind of ecstatic thrill that she wants to share. A book she wants to debate with someone.
This past Saturday, Ei had even dropped by a bookstore somewhere down the block where she lives to buy herself a new copy of The Little Prince. She re-familiarizes herself with the passages all over again — the men on the planets, the lamplighter, the railway man, and the fox.
Ei wonders who her mystery suitor considers themselves to be, and if she is the little prince of this tale. Rejuvenated with each reminder of a rose that claims to love her.
“It’s a book about a boy learning to love. As he journeys through each planet inhabited by a single narrow-minded adult, he sees for himself what love can be. For the king, the drunkard, and the businessman, they only know how to love themselves. And when he arrives on Earth, he experiences the love of the fox and the love of the pilot. The fox cries when they part, while the pilot refuses to leave the body he’s left behind in the desert. They both love the little prince as they perceive him and, in loving him, they learn more about themselves, and the little prince learns more about himself in the process too. He even learns to love his rose as well, whereas before—he had been too young to really know how to.”
“Ah, but Ei,” Yae shakes her head, a hand moving upward to surreptitiously touch her own cheek. Ei squashes down the part of herself that finds it adorable and listens intently. “Wouldn’t you say that the fox loved selfishly? He didn’t just give himself without expecting something in return.”
The CEO pauses to consider, taking a large bite of her dango as she does. “I don’t think that’s wrong in itself,” She finally says. “When you love someone, of course you love with the hope of it being returned someday.”
“But, in the end, the little prince ended up leaving him. He went back to his rose and left the fox behind.”
“The fox must’ve known that the prince couldn’t have stayed with him forever.”
“Still,” Yae remarks, some undercurrent of emotion pinning her voice while a strange look passes over her face. But it disappears so quickly, Ei is almost convinced that it was a trick of the light. “Maybe the fox should’ve tried harder. To the fox, the prince was the only one there was in the world and that’s what made him unique in his eyes. He should’ve fought harder for that, for the prince to just stay and be with him.”
“Miko.” Ei breathes, stunned. She didn’t know Yae had so many feelings about The Little Prince. It’s… nice.
“Sorry,” Yae ducks her head, somewhat embarrassed yet also apologetic. It’s a rare display to see the ever-dignified Yae Miko being sheepish about something, and Ei softens at the sight. “I-I didn’t mean to come off so strongly like that. It’s just…”
“The fox is your favorite character, I’m guessing.” Ei observes with a smile.
Yae winces. “That obvious, huh?” She sighs. “Wait, hold on, let me guess who your favorite character is.”
The younger woman backs up a little, scrutinizing Ei from the head down with a thoughtful hum. Ei lets her as she takes another bite of her dango stick, but more delicately this time. She closes her eyes at the taste of sweet, chewy rice filling her mouth. It’s so good that she immediately takes another bite of the delicious dessert, then another, and another, until she’s licking her lips with a look of utter satisfaction on her face while a happy sound rumbles in her throat.
When she glances up to find Yae still watching her, Ei’s cheeks redden as she squeezes her eyes shut again.
“Sorry, that was weird.” Ei mumbles.
“No, no, it’s alright.” Yae’s voice is a pinch huskier, soothing something deep within Ei’s chest. “I may not be too big on this whole restaurant business the same way Aunt Saiguu is, but I do like seeing you happy, Ei… There’s no greater satisfaction than seeing someone enjoy something they love, even if it’s just the small things like eating their favorite snack.”
Ei opens her eyes at that. There’s something different about Yae tonight; something softer, more sincere and sentimental.
It’s late at night and everyone else has gone home. Ei is suddenly aware of the fact that it’s just the two of them, Yae and her. She’s aware of how the mellow light from the hanging bulbs caresses Yae’s fox-like features; her sharp eyes, her small nose, the perpetual curl in the corners of her mouth, and the soft outline of her jaw. A muted glow that seems to almost dance on the highpoints of Yae’s cheeks and in the vortex of her deep purple irises. She had also taken off her work cap to undo her tight ponytail, letting the voluminous locks of her sakura-pink hair tumble freely down her shoulders as they frame her face. It’s a flattering look on Yae, and Ei knows it.
With great difficulty, Ei tears her eyes away from her visually-arresting best friend. The last thing she wants right now is to be caught staring at Yae too long for it to be considered socially appropriate.
“I really like this restaurant and the food here, yes.” She admits, desperate to break the weird tension that’s settled over them as she nervously wrings her hands together under the counter. “But if you ask me, I think I enjoy your company the most… It’s my favorite one of them all.”
Having not expected such an honest compliment in response, Yae is visibly taken aback when her teasing smile slips away as she blushes. Her eyes grow wide in a mix of surprise and shyness that is uncommon to see from her nowadays, given how she seldom ever loses her cool and natural poise. A sense of gratification washes over Ei at the knowledge that only she can catch Yae off-guard with just the right words to make her bashful enough to avert her gaze purposefully. Trying to collect herself first before flitting back to Ei not long after with a nonchalant expression, as if her veneer of solemnity and composure didn’t just crack at those earlier words of affection.
“You flatter me too much, Ei.” Yae purrs, her flirtatious side showing in order to hide away the fact that she let herself get flustered so easily. But Ei can clearly see her trying to fight back the huge smile that’s spreading helplessly across her face, which Yae attempts to conceal behind a dainty hand and a cough. It didn’t work. “But in all honesty, I’m very glad to hear that. Otherwise, your visits here would be such a waste, wouldn't it?”
Ei forces herself to return the smile. It’s getting increasingly difficult for the older woman to silence the growing voice in her head telling Ei to press forward and kiss the living daylights out of Yae Miko. But if there’s anything she can pride herself on, it’s self-control.
She clears her throat. “Miko, have you figured out who my favorite character is yet?”
Yae hums again, narrowing her eyes in contemplation before she perks up. Her eyes brighten in such a way that has Ei’s heart clenching at how unintentionally cute she is.
“Oh! It’s the lamplighter, isn’t it?
Ei’s head jerks towards hers, eyebrows shooting up to disappear behind her bangs. Yae merely wears that same fond smile she’s been giving Ei the whole evening as she continues.
“Yeah, I kinda figured. You wouldn’t be the type to identify with the little prince, even after all the things you’ve said about his journey. You don’t think of yourself as an astronaut. You’re more of an astronomer, charting the stars from the comfort of the ground. But at the same time, you’re not completely satisfied with that life either… The lamplighter lights his lamp because he doesn’t know how to do anything else. His own life is a stagnant cycle, the same monotonous routine of constantly lighting or putting out the lamp in order to keep up with every full turn of his planet. He only knows how to commit to his duty because that’s all he’s ever known, even if it just makes him miserable and unhappy to be sustaining in the end. He had the choice to join the little prince, though, and maybe that’s what you want too.”
For a moment, Ei forgets how to breathe.
“Miko…”
“Ei,” Yae gazes steadily back, her bottom lip taken between her teeth as she nibbles on it. Hesitant, unsure. “You’re… Well, I can’t say you’re wrong. The little prince could’ve never made it back to his home planet. He could’ve died of thirst or hunger, he could’ve died from the snake’s venom if the snake had only been pretending to help him. But the lamplighter couldn’t have known that. None of us could until we got to the end of the story. What I’m saying is—there might not have been room for two on the lamplighter’s small planet, but all the lamplighter could’ve done was ask.”
Ei swallows thickly. Tears spring to her eyes unbidden, her breath rattling shakily in her throat, but she forces her feelings to subside as she inhales deeply. Steadying herself from the torrent of emotions that’s beginning to overwhelm her.
“Actually,” She starts, grateful when her voice comes out even and controlled. “My favorite character is the narrator. The pilot. I may like to keep my feet on the ground… You’re right, Miko. I don’t really believe I belong out there in space, but I could never forgive myself if I didn’t at least attempt a chance of flight. Even just once.”
Her heart thuds loudly, strong and heavy like the weight of thunder crashing through the sky.
“Thank you for tonight, Miko.” Ei adds in a low whisper. “It’s been a long time since I last shared this part of myself with anyone else and felt like I was understood. Thank you… for discussing The Little Prince with me.”
“Ei…”
Said woman stands to her feet, gathering her things albeit clumsily in a manner that’s uncharacteristic to her. “It’s getting late. I should go.”
Yae looks down for a very long time. She doesn’t say anything else, just fidgets with her hands before releasing a long exhale that sounds awfully like defeat.
Ei heads to the exit, her knuckles white with friction from gripping the strap of her messenger bag so tightly. Right as she pulls the door open, she stops and turns to raise a hand in farewell. “Thursday night, then?”
Yae finally lifts her head, lips curled upward and slightly crooked at the corners as she tries for a semblance of her usual trademark smirk. “Don’t keep me waiting.” She waves with her fingers. “Good night, Ei. Be safe and rest well.”
“Good night, Miko. Take care of yourself.”
Ei steps out into the cold night and takes the same lonely route back home.
I did not know what to say to him. I felt awkward and blundering. I did not know how I could reach him, where I could overtake him and go on hand in hand with him once more.
It is such a secret place, the land of tears.
Two days later, Ei receives a single purple rose on her desk. There’s yet another quote written on the slip of paper wrapped around its stem.
risque de pleurer un peu si l’on s’est laissé apprivoiser.
“We risk crying if we let ourselves be tamed.”
The identity of her mystery suitor couldn’t be any clearer. But if it really is her, Ei thinks while raking a hand through the violet mane of her hair. Why won’t she just say it?
She swallows back the sudden onslaught of tears threatening to break out, choosing to crumple the paper in her fist before dumping it inside the trash bin underneath her desk. Her thoughts are racing in circles as she tries to make sense of this situation. No matter how much she tries to focus on the tasks at hand, Ei doesn’t get any work done that day.
As soon as nighttime falls and people in the office are clocking out for the day, Ei is up and out the door. Snagging her copy of The Little Prince on her way out while dialing a call on her phone. She badly needs advice from somebody else she trusts.
Makoto picks up on the fifth ring. “Ei? What’s up?”
“Makoto,” The younger twin breathes into her phone speaker. She lets out an involuntary sniff, and Makoto already knows what her sister is trying to communicate without it being explicitly mentioned.
“Hang on, sis.” There’s a sound of shuffling on the other end, followed by a muffled voice mumbling unintelligibly in the background, before a scritch is heard when Makoto picks up the phone again. “Grab car incoming. Estimated time of arrival, ten minutes.”
“You’re a life-saver, Makoto.” Ei says gratefully.
“I know I am. Anyway, I’m sure whatever you’re about to tell me is going to be important.” Makoto humors with a gentle undertone in her voice, and Ei can tell that the older Raiden is smiling. “See you soon?”
“Yeah, soon.”
“So, let me get this straight… Yae Miko basically tried to ask you out through subtext?”
“Roses and my favorite childhood book.”
Makoto waves her hand dismissively. “Same thing. And then you rejected her, also through subtext.”
Guiltily, Ei hunches her shoulders up to her ears in an effort to look physically smaller as she hangs her head. Kind of like a child who’s done something wrong and is about to receive a scolding from their elder. “I… panicked.”
“Why?” Makoto doesn’t even blink, even when her dog — a chubby-looking Shiba Inu by the name of Taroumaru — flops himself backwards onto her lap; demanding belly rubs from his owner.
Makoto instantly acquiesces, stroking the creamy underside of his fur while trying not to appear as though the larger-than-normal dog is squishing her into the cushions. Taroumaru seems to be having the time of his life with the way he kicks his foot in the air from the absolute bliss of being petted, his tongue lolling out from his mouth as a result of the huge doggy grin that seems permanently plastered on his pudgy snout.
“Ei.” Makoto stresses, one hand raised in the motion telling her sister to put down her Switch for a second.
Ei immediately opens her mouth. “She just… She saw me, okay? Miko just figured me out, and I got scared.”
“But why?”
“What do you mean ‘why’?” Ei gripes, frustrated. Taroumaru whines the exact moment he senses the younger Raiden’s irritation, and Ei offers a soothing rub on his furry head in apology.
“I mean,” Makoto draws Ei’s attention back to her, careful and deliberate with her next words. “I notice things about you all the time too, but you don’t exactly freak out.”
“That’s different. We’re sisters, it comes naturally to us, so I’m already used to it.” Ei states rather dryly. She and Makoto are long accustomed to each other’s idiosyncrasies. Twins’ intuition, as the elder of the two likes to call it. Besides Yae, Makoto understands her so well. That’s why Ei wanted to go to her for advice in the first place.
Makoto winds a hand down her hair like a comforting mother would and brushes through the lengthy strands of violet cascading down Ei’s back like a waterfall, curling a stray lock around her finger as she does.
“I don’t think that’s it.” Makoto says softly, meaningfully. “You like Miko, don’t you, Ei?”
Ei sighs. There’s no use in denying the obvious truth.
“I do…” She admits, dejected.
“And you’re afraid of that?”
“I’ve never been in a relationship before. I went to a few dates in college, sure, but nothing ever came out of them. I didn’t feel for those people the same way I do with Miko. I just… I like her so much, Makoto. What if I disappoint whatever notion she has of me?”
“She already knows what you’re like.” Makoto calmly points out.
“Yeah, and Miko probably hates me for it. She indirectly called me a coward through subtext, and she’s right. I don’t blame her for thinking that way.” Ei sniffles, despite her best efforts to keep it together when she feels the urge to just cry then and there. It’s not like Makoto is going to judge for it — if only a little.
Her older sister reaches over to pat her thigh. “Please, even if you disappeared for years and then came back like nothing happened, Miko still wouldn’t bring herself to hate you.” Makoto tells her simply. “If she thinks you’re a coward, go prove her wrong. Prove to her that you’re an astronaut or whatever it was she said.”
“I don’t know if I can.” Ei responds weakly.
“Sure you can.” Makoto meets her gaze — steady, just like Yae’s stare had felt that particular night. Only then is Ei just realizing how much she’s surrounded herself with perceptive people — and adds. “You’re Raiden Ei, the youngest CEO in Euthymia Inc.’s history who stays true to her word and is a force to be reckoned with once her mind is firmly set on something. Now, go win your girl.”
Ei blinks as she absorbs Makoto’s pep talk. “I can’t believe you just said that to me.” She says in awe.
“Live with it, because I’m never doing that cheesy stuff again unless you hold me at gunpoint.”
Makoto is startled when Ei abruptly pulls her into a fierce hug, the action disturbing sleepy Taroumaru in the process when he makes a home for himself in Ei’s lap as well. She gives her younger sister a few pats on the back and an encouraging squeeze for good measure.
“Thanks, Makoto.” Ei breathes before releasing her.
“No biggie,” Makoto shrugs, the whites of her teeth showing as she grins. “Up for some rounds of Mario Kart tonight?”
Ei nods, grinning right back at her. “Sure. I’ll go set up the game.”
That night, after beating poor Makoto in Mario Kart as usual for eight rounds in a row, Ei reads the passage where the fox encounters the little prince for the first time. She’s curled up in Makoto’s spacious guest room, holding her first well-used copy of the book in hand as she loses herself in the familiar beats of the story once more.
“No,” said the little prince. “I am looking for friends. What does that mean—‘tame’?”
“It is an act too often neglected,” said the fox. “It means to establish ties.”
“To establish ties?”
“Just that,” said the fox. “To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world…”
The fox then seeks the little prince out, wanting to make a friend. Sensing the opportunity for something novel, he teaches the prince to tame him, so that he will have something beyond the monotony of what he does day to day to look forward to, and then later, to reminisce over.
“One only understands the things that one tames,” said the fox. “Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me…”
“What must I do, to tame you?” asked the little prince.
“You must be very patient,” replied the fox. “First you will sit down at a little distance from me—like that—in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day…”
The next day the little prince came back.
“It would have been better to come back at the same hour,” said the fox. “If, for example, you come at four o'clock in the afternoon, then at three o'clock I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances. At four o'clock, I shall already be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am! But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you…”
What exactly has Yae been trying to say with her note? The fox had found the notion of being tamed worthwhile, but the narrator who heard the story had been sorrowful.
Did Yae regret it, perhaps…?
With a gasp, Ei recalls her friend’s words in the restaurant two nights ago: “Maybe the fox should’ve tried harder.”
Was Yae acknowledging that she was the fox, then? That she was willing to take the plunge even if it meant the risk of losing her in the end?
Ei may not be an astronaut, but she still thinks she’s a pilot. She hadn’t been able to work in her dream department responsible for software development and being more hands-on with all the technical work, but she settled for the next best thing that is still aligned to her field of interest. And although it is exhausting, as she’s told Yae, eventually Ei has begun to grow rather fond of it. She’s grown satisfied with her life, satisfied with the way things are.
But is it really enough, though? Is she happy?
Ei has no definite answers. But the next day, when she’s riding the elevator up to her office even earlier than usual with the intent to at least catch up on all of the work she couldn’t finish, a shadow by her desk makes her rooted to the floor in shock.
The shadow turns… but it isn’t Yae Miko. Not in figure nor in height. Not her signature pink hair in sight.
Bright amber eyes belonging to Kujou Sara widen upon being caught red-handed by her boss with a single purple rose in hand, and Ei’s heart plunges straight into the icy depths.
“Go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is unique in all the world.”
Ei was wrong about everything. Of course, it would be Sara.
The raven-haired woman had heard her rambling about The Little Prince before — one memorable time for days on end even — after an animated film inspired by the book of the same name had dropped in the theaters, and Ei practically dragged Sara to see the movie with her on the basis of it “falling under her duties as a retainer employed by the Raiden clan” to accompany the CEO in any form of outing that may require her services. Then again, given her unwavering loyalty and trustful nature, Sara most likely didn’t need any convincing at all and would simply tag along without question or complaint. Something Ei respects and appreciates about her.
(Now, in her defense, Ei just wanted someone whom she can gush about the movie to after watching it but also didn’t have anyone else to join her at the time. Sara was the only other option available and the one employee working under her who doesn’t immediately quake in their boots around Ei.)
Yae may have been enlightened enough to discuss the story with her recently, but Sara has known of her fascination for years since Ei was appointed head of the company and had hired her.
Ei is more than aware that she’s over-thought things before, but never has she felt so disappointed. She gathers herself vainly, giving Sara a wan smile and waving off any attempts for the latter to explain. With crestfallen eyes, she collapses into her chair behind the desk while Sara awkwardly slinks out of her private office.
She’ll probably come back, searching for an answer soon. Ei will have to think of a way to let her down as gently as possible without damaging their work relationship. The emails have only piled up in Ei’s inbox overnight, ready to be opened, read, and responded to. But it all pales in comparison to the revelation that Yae Miko is not her secret admirer, after all.
Taking off her wireframe glasses, Ei crosses her arms atop the desk and buries her face in them. Despondent. All this time, what she had thought were hints from Yae were simply the product of imagination from a mind that yearned for things to work out. If only just this once.
She wanted Yae Miko to be the one to have seen her, to have taken a chance on her.
It’s been so terribly long since Ei felt like she was anything other than needed. She hasn’t made many new friends since she started working; she used the comfort of her home as an excuse, and she hasn’t visited her own parents with Makoto in ages.
By some stroke of fate or destiny, it had caused Ei and Yae’s lives to intertwine. Like a string of red threading two people together. Despite how preoccupied the two of them are with their respective businesses, Yae (with the rare exception being her return from Liyue recently) always lets her know that she’s in the city. Visiting Ei during her downtime away from work, even when the older woman is often too busy to meet up with Yae at her aunt’s restaurant.
And Ei has possibly ruined that, because her foolish heart was too muddled to listen. Too busy with matters of consequence that she neglected what’s truly important to her.
In the book, the fox’s greatest present to the little prince is a secret. A very simple secret.
“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
Wearily, Ei lifts her head. Her eyes fall on the lone purple rose in front of her and the note curled beside it. Sara must’ve been too startled to tie it to the stem properly. With a forlorn sigh, Ei puts her glasses back on and drags the paper over to herself before unrolling its contents.
ne me laissez pas tellement triste, écrivez-moi vite qu’il est revenu…
“Don’t leave me so sad, send me word that he has returned…”
“Miss Raiden?”
The CEO stiffens in her seat. Sara is fidgeting with the sleeves of her blazer, nervous and antsy to a degree she had never once seen from her retainer’s behavior in the past. Ei, however, hardens her resolve. “Miss Kujou, I mean no disrespect when I say this, but—”
“I-It’s not me!” Sara hastily exclaims.
Ei’s eyes go round in surprise. “Pardon?”
“I’m not the one who’s writing those notes or sending you those roses. Someone, err… asked me to do it…” Sara trails off, her expression bordering on sheepish.
“And you agreed?” Hope rises in Ei’s voice as her heart begins to roar back to life.
So, it wasn’t Sara after all. It might just be… She wants it to be…
“Yes, well… The egg sushi she offered in exchange was too good to turn down.”
“Who is she, then?” Ei stands up, knowing the fact that she’s still in yesterday’s clothes, her unkept hair likely smells, her glasses are askew on her nose bridge, and she might’ve left a sock back at Makoto’s place.
But none of these matter now. Her whole being hinges on Sara’s next words.
However, all she receives from her retainer is a small secretive smile. “If I may be so bold, Miss Raiden—I believe you already know who it is.” Sara answers knowingly.
Clutching her messenger bag with the rose to her side, Ei thanks Sara over her shoulder as she runs.
In retrospect, it’s pretty silly of her to visit the restaurant so early when she knows that, logically, it opens at eleven.
She steals a glance at the time on her smartwatch again, sighing. It will soon be eight in the morning, and she doesn’t exactly have the luxury to wait by the storefront for three whole hours just to see Yae.
Ei wants to hang her head back in frustration, so she settles for banging it gently against the wall instead.
Guess I’ll have to swing by later… She decides. Hopefully, Yae will be around then.
“Ei?”
The older woman pivots at the sound of her name and nearly bumps her head against Yae’s when she turns. Yae backs up a few steps, hands held in front of her as she wears a surprised look. “Hey, easy there. Why in such a rush, Ei?” She jokes, albeit with an undertone of inquisitiveness lacing her voice at her friend’s unannounced arrival.
“Miko.” Now that Yae is right there, Ei finds herself tongue-tied. She coughs. “I, uh—”
“It’s pretty early for you to be here, isn’t it?” Yae giggles softly. So soft, Ei could positively melt inside. “I thought you’d be heading for the office at this time.”
“I was, but…” Ei taps her foot nervously on the concrete pavement. Her hands wring themselves behind her back, and she can’t bring herself to say another word. Shakily, Ei takes out the rose that was safely tucked away in her bag, holds it out for Yae to see, and eventually finds her voice again. “… I think I deserve an explanation.”
Yae’s eyes are as wide as saucers, but she quickly clears her throat and averts her gaze elsewhere. Refusing to make eye-contact.
“Come inside,” She finally answers, quiet and not like her usual confident self. “This might take a while.”
Yae fishes out her keys from the pocket of her coat so she can unlock the front doors to her restaurant with ease. She leads Ei inside and over to sit at the empty bar counter, where she then takes a seat beside her old friend after switching on the lights. Her coat slips off her shoulders when she removes and folds it to rest on the countertop. A sigh floats out from her, but she says nothing for a while.
Ei breaks their silence first.
“Miko, why didn’t you say anything?”
Yae bites her lip. “I… I didn’t know how to.”
“What do you mean?” Ei doesn’t understand.
“I was giving you all these hints, but you never seemed to get them. I thought, maybe, if I saw for myself how you would react to being asked out… I could gauge your response to know if it was the same way you were reacting to me.”
“And did you find it?” Ei prods, fingers curling on her knees. “Your answer?”
Yae sighs once more. “Not exactly… You were just the same, like the roses didn’t even bother you that much.”
“I texted you, though, and I asked you for advice. I debated with you.”
“You did.” Yae agrees, her voice soft. “You may not show it, but you never let yourself be pushed into anything before you’re ready. I like that about you.”
Ei swallows. “So, then,” She ventures, a lump bobbing in her throat. “What you said about the fox?”
Yae idly taps her long nails on the counter. “Another hint.” Her amethyst eyes meet Ei’s lilac ones abruptly. “Listen, I’m sorry I scared you away that day. I should’ve known better than to say all of that.”
Ei’s heart skips a beat. “No, no, you were right to say it. Even as my friend, you were right to call me out on it.”
“A friend, huh?” Yae’s mouth slants up and to the side, a faint warmth seeping at its edges. Ei recognizes the look. Yae is trying to prepare herself. For rejection. Maybe she’s accepted it; that Ei will turn her down and not reciprocate her feelings. But this doesn’t mean it’ll hurt any less to hear that directly from the woman before her.
There’s a sharp pang within Ei’s chest at this. She still needs to know one more thing, however.
“What did you mean by the note you sent me three days ago?”
“Exactly what it said, Ei.” Yae says simply. “You are responsible for what you have tamed.”
“It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.”
“It is the time I have wasted for my rose—” said the little prince, so that he would be sure to remember.
“Men have forgotten this truth,” said the fox. “But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose…”
“I am responsible for my rose,” the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.
“And by that, you’re saying what?” The anticipation is gnawing away on her nerves as Ei sits there in bated breath. She wonders if she’s slowly growing crazy the longer this conversation drags on without the answer she came all this way for, seeking it like a well to a grounded pilot desperate to quench his thirst in the desert. Something brews in her stomach, ferocious and wild like an incoming storm. “That I have tamed you?”
Yae’s eyes are like the skies in the afterglow of a sunset — the promise of a new dawn, the opportunity to reset. Full of all the colors of love.
“I like you, Ei.” Yae finally confesses, her voice breaking. “I’ve liked you for a long time now.”
She spoke with a delicateness that has Ei’s poor overworked heart thundering madly against her sternum. And when Ei chances a brief look into Yae’s eyes, she has to remind herself how to breathe.
Because with Yae, Ei feels so literally breathless that it’s like she’s been made to run up a mountain of her own feelings without even being aware of it. With Yae, she feels like they’re infinite and forever… but also painfully mortal. Like the ocean is drowning her, but she’s soaring mid-air and flying all at once.
Ei’s staccato breaths are quicker now as she tries to get her own body under control. As though to torment her, a flush begins to climb its way up her spine. The ball is in her court now. Ei knows that if she were to walk away, Yae won’t pursue her. She’ll accept her answer, whatever that may be, even if it hurts her. But Ei doesn’t want to run away anymore. This time, Ei just wants to stay.
She unrolls the last strip of paper from her pocket, takes out a pen from her bag, and crosses out a few words before holding it up for Yae to read.
ne me laissez pas tellement triste, écrivez-moi vite qu’il est revenu…
il est revenu…
“He came back…”
Yae glances at her, puzzled, and Ei figures that she just might’ve made a mistake. She laughs a bit awkwardly but tugs Yae close to her, nonetheless. Yae stills at their proximity. “I’m not very good at this.” Ei admits.
“Ei,” Yae says, her name an exhale. “What are you…”
“I’m sorry, Miko.”
And then, their lips meet. Yae’s lips are warm, a little bit dry from the sun, and Ei thinks they’re as perfect as they get. She gently coaxes Yae’s mouth open with her own to deepen the kiss and feels the other woman’s confusion, her hesitation, her fear, before releasing Yae with one last soft peck.
Yae gapes at her, wide-eyed and thunderstruck. Her words are lost somewhere beyond where she can find them as she stares upon Ei’s face intently. Shyly, Ei ducks her head; color painting the highpoints of her cheeks.
“Sorry that it also took me so long,” She peers up at Yae through her bangs, bashful yet with an endearing smile creeping onto her lips. “I-I like you too, Miko.”
Yae is the one who tugs Ei in this time, and it’s a completely different kiss from their first. Ei sighs blissfully into the contact as Yae angles her mouth against hers, pressing their lips together so sweetly, so affectionately, it makes Ei feel like she might burst into stardust and return to the cosmos where she was born. Yae holds Ei’s face in both of her hands, cupping the sides of Ei’s jaw and running her thumbs along the curves of Ei’s cheeks, as she tilts her head to further strengthen their kiss before reluctantly breaking away so she can press lighter kisses everywhere. On every inch of skin she’s been privileged enough to touch and caress — on Ei’s forehead, her nose, her jawline, the corners of her eyes, and even on both her eyelids.
“Raiden Ei,” Yae whispers hoarsely, her lips hovering once again by Ei’s own as she’s practically about to fall into her dearest friend’s lap. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
“Then, please,” Ei rasps, both her hands on the slopes of Yae’s shoulders. “Keep going… Don’t stop now.”
“Ei.” Yae whispers again, a secret. Her palms continue to rest on Ei’s cheeks, so tenderly that it hurts, and she sets her mouth against Ei’s once more. When Yae gingerly urges Ei’s mouth open with her tongue, Ei obliges without reservation. Their tongues converge, and their movements are careful. Excited. It feels charged with electricity, sending waves of tingles that start from their connected lips to travel down their spines. Dizzying. Neither of them can’t seem to get enough of it. Of each other. Their whole bodies are prickling and tingling with want, wanting so much more and taking too much that they’re drunk on the closeness.
Miko. Ei whispers in turn as heat begins to pool in her stomach, every fiber of her singing one name. Miko. She groans when Yae sucks on her lower lip, a dainty hand winding its way up into Ei’s hair so Yae can pull and dip her head back a little to trail even softer kisses along the sharpness of her jaw. Miko. Ei calls out when Yae eases her forward to join their lips together, then apart, and then together again.
It’s easy to fall into step with one another, to fall into orbit as Ei gravitates towards Yae’s presence like the Earth does to the sun. She finds her axis in those dark purple eyes gazing back at her with all the love that is as limitless and everlasting as the universe itself, and Ei melts into it. Tethered only by the touch of Yae’s hands still cradling her face, as well as the petal-soft lips that would keep locking with hers for longer open-mouthed kisses.
Warm, warm, warm. Ei thinks of the stars falling, the way they shift and move even closer and closer, as they share the same air with their hot breaths being panted out between them in the quiet emptiness of the restaurant.
She thinks of falling stars and of catching them, holding warmth in her hands; the way Yae holds her impossibly close like she’s afraid of letting her go and losing Ei forever, the way Yae brings Ei’s fingers up to her lips to press kisses onto them as Ei watches, far too captivated by this. She thinks of the quiet ways that Yae pours every ounce of love rooted deep in the sinews of her heart right into every little thing she does for Ei, and the way they have woven one line to another into a single path for them to explore together.
It’s easy enough to think of the warmth of stars when they fall and burn through space as they whisper “I like you, I like you, I like you so much” into each other’s mouth and skin. Sparks of starlight burn in their chests with the brilliant force of a supernova, like fragments of dreams that seem so childish in both their wonder and their simplicity.
Beautifully warm and constant, and real. Like the sun that rises and sets for eternity.
The little prince might never have found his way back to the pilot. Ei thinks through a haze. Maybe there were no other flocks of wild birds that ever got passage through his planet again, but maybe that was okay.
If the pilot loved the little prince enough, he would’ve tried to reach him on his own.
Yae wraps her arms around Ei, embracing her tightly. Her presence is as natural as sunsets and moonrises, as the constellations that light up the sky like a global compass. And Ei feels very content and very happy.
If the little prince couldn’t find his way back to Earth, perhaps the pilot found a way to him instead.
“Oh, wait. What was it you were trying to show me anyway, Ei?” Yae asks, peeking up from where she’s planted her face in the crook of Ei’s neck to look at her friend curiously.
“Ah,” Ei picks up the slightly crumpled piece of paper and hands it to Yae. “I rewrote it.” She explains. “I rewrote it to say that he returned.”
A beaming smile then spreads across her face as Ei moves so close, their noses knock together while her breath fans over Yae’s parted lips.
“The little prince… He came back.”