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“Yeeeeeaaahh, I guess some ice cream’ll help.” Rolling his neck in a stretch, Ryuji draws a breath of the miraculously cold shop. The air is fresh, even sugary at the same time. He takes a second breath. “Steadily-returning” track star he might be, Ryuji would be lying to whine of how this is worse than the sun baking all of Sendai outside.
“That’s the spirit,” Ann murmurs cheerily. She wraps an arm around Ryuji’s neck. With a sagely smirk and an accidental sheen off her glasses, Sumire gingerly ambles ahead from her senpai’s other arm. She runs her fingers through her half-up cherry-red hair.
Come to think of it, even Ann’s pigtail clings gently onto Ryuji’s shoulder, its coat of moist light, but still kinda gross. Even her arm has yet to dry itself, a droplet or two snaking onto her classmate’s tank top. All the same, Ryuji could admit she still looks cute…just not aloud, anyways.
Especially when Ryuji catches familiar trails of perspiration slithering down his own scalp. Damn, how did Sendai get hit with this blistering summer?!
The city maintained a balmy pleasantry by the time the Phantom Thieves (and possibly Zenkichi behind them…and less-likely-than-possibly Goro Akechi with Zenkichi) strolled in and started their mission to destroy Ango Natsume’s thrall. But today, of all days, the sun bears enough heat for that mildness to completely evaporate .
Oh sure, the weather forecasts for the temperature to be kinder tomorrow—but it’s today, after the whole crew has had their fun in Sendai, that the infiltration route will start trekking its way to Natsume’s Treasure.
So with the bulk of their work to be had still, Ryuji could oblige to Ann’s umpteenth sugar rush. And when sweet, cheery gymnast Sumire wasn’t going to protest, looking back to her senpais with an earnest smile, Ryuji will have to drop his comforting staples.
But with
all
things considered, Ryuji could use a saccharine snack more often—just not
too
often, either. It’d be a wholly different thing if today added some fudge-packed frozen yogurt in front of him, let alone an obtuse slice of cheesecake.
So long as he could fend off any Takamaki-endorsed sweets after this—keeping his meats and noodles heaping in portion—then ice cream is just fine for Ryuji to toss into his late-morning diet.
“I’ve heard good things about this shop,” Ann muses, nudging Ryuji and herself towards Sumire. “It’s not your usual fro-yo or double-chocolate fudge crepes, but it’s still some of the most renowned ice cream in Japan.”
Sumire’s grin drops into a quizzical oval, her glasses glimmering with another glare of light as she looks behind the pair. “Looks like we’re lucky to be here when there’s no line at all.”
Ann’s teeth clench together, a pained hiss sending a tickling jolt down Ryuji’s frame. “Ohhhh yeah, it’s totally gonna start up soon. Anyways, this’ll be my treat for you two, so I want you two to have something large and nice for yourselves. Sound good?”
“But ain’t a large askin’ a lot from you?” Ryuji realizes that Ann could defy logic as she pleases, yet remains too late to stop his own objection.
“ Nahhhh ,” she groans, her scratching finger almost tickling Ryuji’s neck before she releases him. “If it’s enough to cool the three of us off, I’d rather buy you that than some skimpy, boring excuse of a treat.”
Oh, well now she favors the illogical. Then again, Ryuji isn’t rightfully one to chastise it.
“I’m with Ann-senpai,” Sumire happily concurs. “There’s nothing wrong with a treat sometimes, as long as you make it worth your time.” She saunters up to Ryuji, daintily plucking a small, torn emerald leaf off his hair. “Besides, Ryuji-senpai: for how often our group seems to pick on you, you need to permit yourself some generosity.”
By the time his kohai flicks the poor leaf into the nearby trash can, Ryuji’s ears catch a small, melancholy hum of agreement from Ann.
“And give some to yourself, too.”
“Okay, okay,” Ryuji hastily whines to his junior.
“Aww, that’s a good boy.” Ann’s arm returns again, this time snaring Ryuji by the waist. Sumire graciously leads the way, and Ryuji shows no semblance of protest as Ann leads him along.
Ryuji’s oak-brown eyes gloss over the menu mounted on the wall. Scanning everything for what strikes him fanciest, he barely catches the lady who takes up greetings at the cash register.
“Welcome!” Her voice is sweet and inviting, but Ryuji feels harder-pressed to not stall her time with indecisiveness. “Can I take your orders, please?”
“Um, yes please,” Sumire eagerly responds, her head softly tilting up to her left, then further to her right. “May I request a triple-scoop bowl of strawberry milk, sweet vanilla, and shamrock mint? I’ll have those in a traditional bowl as well, please.” The lady responds happily, tapping on a monitor in front of her while Sumire gives an encouraging look to Ann and Ryuji.
Ryuji’s lips purse together in a distressed frown, his sight flitting from lemon to raspberry to peanut butter. He didn’t know what kind of overseas rock band a “shamrock” was, but if it involves mint—
“Want me to surprise you?” Hearing Ann’s voice and feeling her gentle nudge, Ryuji is yanked out of his head.
“What basic would you go for?” Ann presses again, putting her lovely face in the other’s line of sight. “Like, are you a chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry kind of person?”
Her classmate wrinkles his forehead while replying, “I guess chocolate? But I’d always go for whatever's special.” Oh sure, as though an answer like that would help her out.
“Here, how does this sound?” With an ever-inspired twinkle in her eye, Ann turns to the encased ice cream display with a tiny hum, then looks up to their server. “May we order him a triple-scoop with cookies and cream, rocky road, and peanut butter fudge?”
Without a moment to overreact in response, Ryuji nods. “Just a regular bowl, too, please.” He hadn’t had anything with peanut butter in some time, but he recalls the taste fondly from what few instances nearly crept past his memory banks.
“And I’ll have,” Ann perks up more so, “a fluffy strawberry cream cheese crepe, please? One scoop of white chocolate and raspberry, and then another of strawberry cheesecake.”
Of course Ann goes for the really stuffing shit, Ryuji muses in his head. Though she certainly made his own mulling over the flavors a lot easier.
Even as she gives a damn and more for her modeling, Ann finds it in herself to take a crack at different desserts and confections. But even gymnastics’ rising star Sumire, with a nimble presence and elegant footing about her nearly-every way, shoots straight for dessert if not astonishing meal platters for herself.
Perhaps Ryuji isn’t any less qualified to gorge—at least when Sendai is an outdoor fryer today.
For all his fussing, Ryuji can’t stop mumbling over how delicious his bowl ends up tasting. The peanut butter fudge scoop is delightful, surprisingly refreshing, and blends well with the aftertastes of his bites from the other two scoops.
“Mm-h-h-hm,” he haphazardly giggles between bites, “it’sh nicshe!” Feeling the eyes of his companions on him, his free hand flies to his mouth as a bashful heat washes over his face.
Ann’s playful snicker bodes all the pride she could have for getting dessert on Ryuji’s plate, while Sumire’s is a sweeter, hearty chuckle.
“Shhee?” Ann chides through a smaller bite, but a hand hovers over her own mouth. “It’sh good fur shummer.” She gulps down her food, her cerulean eyes twinkling as she looks over her crepe. “This place has some amazing cream cheese! If only I could get you two interested in some crepes!”
Sumire takes a considerate look at Ann’s crepe, backing off her remaining scoops of mint and vanilla as she leans into her pink wooden chair. “I’ll have to come back later for one! I just wanted to try more than two ice creams since I’ve never been to a shop like this before.” She smooths out her khaki shorts with a gentle brush. “Even I’m tempted to hide out here, rather than walk around outside.”
Ryuji almost envies Sumire’s classy posture, even as she slacks back in her seat and talks of avoiding the blistering outdoors. He looks back at Ann’s little treat, too, and is willing to admit the half of it left remains a tempting sight.
…How did Ann finish half of her crepe that fast?! Where even are the two scoops that were in there?
She must have noticed his stare.
“I think I’ll be fine with one for today,” says Ann, noticeably sneaking a longer look toward Ryuji. “But, if I can get either of you just one, I’ll go back up there again.”
“Uh-huh? And is your wallet gonna be fine?” Ryuji blurts in a snarky tone. Though he can’t deny the rocky road flavor here is rich yet addicting, and probably does wonders for a chocolate crepe.
Her eyes widen to an impossible circumference, then squint as she appears to squeeze one of her blonde pigtails. “It is for now, but I guess I’ll have to be careful.” She turns back up to Ryuji, her swapping crossed legs just barely tapping at her friend’s knee. “But still, Ryuji, can’t you get yourself something new sometimes? Your diet’s always really beefy.”
“Quite literally.” Sumire’s voice is surprisingly meek, and she’s close to spouting needless sorries before Ann breaks out in a half-whispered wheeze.
“Ohmigod, for real!”
Even Ryuji fails to hide a sheepish laugh behind his hand, especially when both girls look at him with those beautiful, knowing grins.
Perhaps it’ll exhaust him if he keeps up his front to hem and haw over simple ice cream. His scoop of rocky road is already gone, and he’s just about devoured the peanut butter fudge.
“I mean, yeah,” he yields, “but if I’m gonna come back to track someday, I gotta keep up everything I’ve done.”
“I’ve done a lot more photoshoots recently,” Ann retorts, “and still go for sweets while beating Mika-chan at our little rivalry. Doesn’t make me any worse of a model to have something for myself.”
“I guess,” Ryuji mewls, gulping down the last of his peanut butter fudge. “But modelin’ and track ain’t in the same field.”
“Athletes can model for covers to interviews and sportswear.” Ann interjects without a moment to hesitate. “I’m not saying you need to eat like me, Ryuji, but don’t freak out over a treat for yourself sometimes.”
Sumire wistfully sits back up, a strand of red hair spilling over her shoulder. “I can see Ryuji-senpai’s concern, to be honest. Your dream can involve intense physical training, or computer work in a fancy office for hours, and no one person’s habits will work for everyone.” She drops her spoon in her bowl, every bit of vanilla, strawberry, and mint having been gorged down. “I guess we all have to find our means to commit while acknowledging when to slow down.”
Ann nods sagely. “No, you’re right, Sumire-chan. I guess we just learn whose advice we take and whose we ignore.”
“Especially when shit’s hittin’ the fan along the way.” By the time Ryuji adds his say, the trio of voices has already dimmed into a somber hush. “There’s always something, or someone, to screw you over.”
The smiles, both sheepish and cocky, dissipate in a moment of pause. Ryuji can hear a pack of customers shuffling in with relieved panting, but he pays them no mind.
“Doctor Maruki’s own dream was flawed,” Sumire laments, “and even when our every wish was almost fulfilled…Ren-senpai had to show us why the costs would cancel out…all of it.” Her shoulders deflate, and Ryuji feels a tug at his chest when she looks at him and Ann, her smile returning with a distinct longing. “And as soon as you all could see what dangers he and Akechi-senpai saw, and I finally understood as well, we had to fight for a reality where dreams remain possible, yet the journey is…”
“Not ideal,” Ann chuckles bitterly, her half of a crepe still untouched. “And those wishes for trauma to be healed, or people and things to come back, aren’t ever happening.”
A finger snakes along his right leg, always healing and dissipating its limp ever-so slowly. And Ryuji himself feels a disquiet void grow inside him. Thinking of his mother and his oldest track friends, yet also of the friends he’s made in the end—and his mother still smiling to this day—his head feels a prick of fuzziness—
“R-Ryuji-senpai?”
His heart palpitates as soon as he hears Sumire’s hushed voice. For all his bluffing as a macho, tough-as-nails jock with little care (moreso a constant delight) at being the butt of many jokes…he can’t seem to stop himself from crying, anyways.
He mumbles under his breath, his fist wiping harshly at his face. “Ah, no, fu—”
“Hey, hey, don’t freak out.” Suddenly, Ryuji finds Ann’s voice to be so soothing, so angelic and comforting, even if she’s the same as ever. He feels her creep towards him, gently wrapping him into a warm embrace that lowered his hands. “Maybe…you could use a break, Ryuji.”
“I-it ain’t—” Ryuji is suddenly conscious of the modest cacophony behind them, even if Ann and Sumire don’t seem to care at all. “It ain’t Sumi’s fault, I just—”
“You’ve needed to let it out at some point,” Ann rephrases gravely, adjusting her arm to trap Ryuji’s beneath while her other hand gently brushes at the tears cascading down his face. “You’re an idiot with a heart of gold, and you’re still our fastest runner.”
The tension in Ryuji’s body falls slack, and he doesn’t even care if someone happens to look their way.
Sumire stands up with that ever-knowing smile, but its sad curve melts away with a sweet, hummed chuckle. “I’m sure your physical rehab won’t mind if I buy you something.” She pulls a small group of paper yen from the pocket of her shorts. “Not that any of this is or isn’t my fault. I’ve just already had a few of my savings from the van.”
Ryuji lets out a quiet, aching snort, weakly nudging his elbow in Ann’s tight hug. “Did either of you plan this?”
“Uhh, nope.” Ann’s voice remains blank as she reels from their underclassman’s sudden charge, yet she doesn’t stand to protest.
This time, Sumire’s bubbly coo carries all the command she could humanly muster. “We just wanted to get ourselves a treat, right? It’s hot outside, and we’re only meeting with everyone else after an hour.” She looks to her phone, a fancy and high-tech replacement she was long overdue for. “Make that forty-five minutes, but an hour was already generous.”
“My treat again?” Ann suddenly inquires.
After a second to look blankly at them, their kohai beams a shockingly coy smirk. “You two have already spent some money in Sendai. Besides, I know just how to treat a model and a fellow athlete. Pardon a moment, please.”
As Sumire walks away with a bubbly saunter, Ann hums sweetly. “Looks like she’s finally been seeing better days again.”
She pats Ryuji’s shoulder opposite of her side. “Anyways, I didn’t mean to bring back some bad memories for any of us.” Cautiously eyeing the lack of fresh tears in Ryuji’s dark eyes, she draws herself back. “I bet most track stars love a good cheesecake or sundae to perk them up from time to time. Wanna have seconds while Sumire-chan’s not taking ‘no’ for an answer?”
Ryuji already has no reason to refuse more ice cream for the day.