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After what feels like hours of being dragged around, stumbling from attraction to attraction with free, running laughter, Aki finally has to pry Power’s face away from the tank they’re at.
“I wanna see! I wanna see!”
“You’ve been seeing for so long,” he reprimands, but his voice can’t help but soften at how her sparkling eyes light up against the muted blue glass before them. He taps her two palms away from the fish. She’s barely in grade school, yet she’s already such a handful.
He looks at the huge tank that entranced her so much. Its spotless glass still has the foggy print of her tiny, squished face, and he notes each swimming, tropical species in his head: mandarin fish, angelfish, sunfish. “Pretty, huh?”
When he turns back, she’s pouting, pointy elbows defiantly pulled behind her back. Even her small horns seem to jut out in rebellion. The pigtails he tied for her this morning are already crooked and falling apart, and he clicks his tongue.
“Ah, seriously, your hair’s in your eyes, again.” He reaches down to readjust the plastic, purple clip on her bangs. Miraculously, though her pout doesn’t fade, she manages to stay still.
A laugh breaks his concentration. Behind them, Denji doubles over his summer shorts, his mirth shining clearly over the dim aquarium lighting.
Aki gets up from his kneeling position. “What is it?”
“You act so old.”
“Well,” he shrugs, “that makes sense doesn’t it? I am older than the both of you.”
“But you ain’t that much bigger.” The blue light carves over Denji’s mild frown.
Aki opens his mouth to disagree.
He’s twelve or thirteen… wow, embarrassing. He’s having so much fun that he couldn’t remember his age anymore. Yeah, that is kinda funny.
Still, he’s sad to see Denji’s smile go, see him look a little lost. They’ve all been letting Power pull them around, but Aki’ll take Denji to what he wants to see next—that should cheer him up.
When he looks left and right, the corridor stretches out infinitely on both sides, all surrounded by brilliant coral and drifting fish. The tiles are perfectly clean, and it’s silent. Calming.
“It’s pretty empty here.”
“So what? That means we can have the whole place to ourselves!” Power shrieks and sprints off, a chaotic force of skinny limbs and flying pigtails.
Aki sighs as the sound of her sandals slapping against tiles grows distant. Now they’ll have to spend who-knows-how-long to look for her. He reaches over and ruffles Denji’s spikes of hair.
“Sorry, Denji. I’m not sure if we have enough time to see anything else…This place is kinda big. But you get the first call next time, okay? I’ll take you to wherever you wanna go.”
“Kay,” Denji says. He’s a big handful, too, but he never complains when it matters. A good kid, really. Aki wishes he could tell him that, but it would just embarrass the both of them.
Denji’s averting his gaze, sort of shy. “Comin’ here was enough, anyways.”
Aki tries to suppress it, but his lips wriggle into a smile. Was enough—just the three of them together. He can’t help but agree. The thought of them like this, for some reason, distantly reminds him of a story from long ago, about the town mouse and the country mouse. Safe and warm.
“Really? I’m glad.”
“Yeah. I’m happy we’re here together.”
It’s odd to hear such quiet thoughtfulness from Denji. Aki didn’t know that the kid was able to articulate his emotions so clearly. Well, maybe he’s been a good influence. His smile grows fuller at the thought.
“We’ve always been here, though,” he replies.
“Yeah.” Denji finally looks up. “But Aki, it’s time for us to leave.”
“Already?”
But he wants to stay here forever. They’re having so much fun. He can’t remember the last time he had so much fun.
Before he can protest any further, Power flies back and latches on to Denji before Aki can even begin to chastise her for running around.
Denji yelps but doesn’t make any move to twist free of her grasp. “Hey!”
“There you are.” Aki frowns and forgets what he was going to scold. Great—Power’s clip is skewed again, and now, she’s knocked Denji around so much that his shirt collar is skewed. “Okay, before we go, stay still.”
He fixes the hair clip again, then straightens Denji’s shirt. They both squirm, the brats. While Denji’s collar finally fixes into something relatively even, Power’s lips tremble.
“We’re going already?” She asks, timid.
Aki pats her head. “We can always come next time. Besides, I still got the picture we took today, see?”
He pulls the photo out his pocket: the three of them squished together in front of the glass, all joined elbows and summer tees and full grins. It seems to calm Power down, but she shakes her head pompously when he tries to give it to her.
“Nuh-uh. It’s us, so Aki holds it.”
“Yeah,” chides Denji, “you’ll never get Power to stand so still again, so that’ll be the only photo of the three of us. Ever! Aki holds it.”
They both nod rigorously. Aki smiles and tucks the photo safe. He’s happy.
He takes Power’s small hand, because she’s the youngest, and she keeps grabbing onto Denji. Together, they walk to the exit, hand-in-hand. Fish ripple around them through glass, splashing refracted, colorful light against their glowing faces. Denji and Power have started singing some children’s songs, and he’s content to listen to the bright echoes of their voices and laughs patter alongside their three sets of footsteps.
When the double doors blow open, the two of them cheer and sprint out to the wide outside.
Aki stops to stand still, the light on his face. He can’t seem to step past the doorway. Denji and Power are already skipping down the steps and over the path, giggling in their childish joy.
They’ve turned around, they’re beckoning for him to join them down the steps, and he needs to take care of them, make sure they’re okay—they’re just kids, after all—but he doesn’t move.
Two voices call out, probably hurry up, Aki, but they’re getting too distant to hear.
He suddenly feels very tired and very cold.
Aki looks up at the sky. As his eyes meet the gray clouds overhead, something tiny and cold lands on his face. He slowly brings a hand up, brushes the wet spot away from his cheek.
“Hey…”
He gazes at the speckled frost on his hand.
“It’s snowing.”