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"One more."
"Nii-san," Nemu protested.
"Just one more!"
"You've had a dozen just-one-mores!"
Ichiro bit back a laugh when Nemu ducked behind him, only popping her head out from behind his shoulder to stick her tongue out at Samatoki, who gamely took the photo anyway.
It was, admittedly, a bit much. Samatoki had probably taken a few hundred pictures of them by now. But Ichiro couldn't blame him. He knew he would be just as bad, when it was Jiro and Saburo at their coming of age ceremonies. Hell, he knew he had been just as bad, at Samatoki's coming of age last year.
"Enough, enough!" Nemu marched over to Samatoki, finally taking matters—and Samatoki's phone—into her own hands. "Let me get one of you and Ichiro-kun now. Shoo, shoo."
Samatoki sputtered out an argument, but could never win against her. He was summarily herded over to Ichiro, and seemed to forget what he was arguing for as soon as they were standing face to face.
Ichiro had to duck his head, borderline embarrassed by how Samatoki beamed at him, all proud and glowing.
"You look good," Samatoki murmured, slipping his hands under Ichiro's haori, letting them rest warm at his sides. "Have I told you that?"
"Only a hundred times," Ichiro teased. "But I could always hear it again."
"You look good," Samatoki repeated obligingly, laughing when Ichiro thunked their foreheads together, vaguely admonishing, but mostly just affectionate.
"Cute," Nemu called out, snapping away with Samatoki's phone from a few steps away. "Now kiss him!"
"Later," Samatoki said.
"Boo! Coward!"
"Hey! Ichi's shy."
Ichiro was a bit, maybe. He and Samatoki weren't keeping their relationship a secret, at least not from their families, but it was still so new that they mostly kept their more private moments, well, private.
This was a special case, though. A special moment in time, a special memory just waiting to be made.
"Wouldn't want to make you a coward," Ichiro whispered.
Samatoki blinked, then grinned like Ichiro had offered him the world. "Yeah?"
Ichiro hummed. "Yeah."
It made a nice picture, one they would both keep in their phones for a long, long time to come. Ichiro in his kimono, Samatoki in a suit. Snow, falling in a soft curtain around them. And a chaste—chaste, yet everlasting—exchange of affection passing like an oath between their lips.