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Marisa and Reimu sat on the porch, and watched the evening sunlight light up the treetops. A plate of freshly rolled dumplings sat between them, already half empty. Marisa reached down for seconds, too content to look away from the scenery. Her fingers brushed soft skin.
Her hand was resting on Reimu’s.
Any other day, and Marisa would’ve leapt back and apologised. But today she froze. Her hand stayed in place. One second. Two seconds. Three. Four. A whole minute passed, and neither of them moved.
They both continued staring at the scenery, saying nothing, ignoring everything.
“I’ll make some more tea,” said Reimu, finally pulling her hand away. She stood up, and walked into the main room. Marisa looked at the palm of her hand, and wondered if she’d dreamt it.
When Reimu came back, they talked as they always did. As though nothing had happened at all.
*****
After that, it became a habit. When the shrine grounds were covered in silence, and the two of them sat alone watching the grass sway, Marisa would reach out, and cover Reimu’s hand with her own.
They never spoke during the moment. Speaking would ruin it. Speaking would force them to acknowledge what was happening. After a few minutes, Reimu would pull her hand away, and things would return to normal.
“I saw Kourin the other day,” Marisa said afterwards. “Apparently he’s got some deal going on with Suzunaan. He sells them books, and they read foreign instruction manuals for him.”
“Hm.” Reimu frowned. “I hope that doesn’t lead to trouble.”
“Seems unlikely.” Marisa leant back, and stretched. The air smelt warm. “You know Kourin. He’s probably explaining the mystical properties of bookshelves facing west or something most of the time.”
They continued talking, just like always.
*****
Spring turned to summer. Summer turned to autumn. Reimu and Marisa continued holding hands in silence, watching the world change around them. They started sitting closer together, as though longing for warmth. They found each other far cosier than the coals in the hearth.
Marisa squeezed Reimu’s hand. Reimu’s thumb brushed hers in response. They still never looked at each other.
Gold leaves swirled above the grass. The days were getting shorter, and the sun moved lower through the sky. Soon winter would set in, and night would sweep over Gensokyo by late afternoon.
Time would always march forward. The leaves would always grow back, only to fall again months later. Flowers would bloom and wilt. Children grew into adults, and adults into old age.
And this moment of intimacy too, would end, until the next time they found themselves alone. Or maybe this would be the last time, and Reimu and Marisa would never touch each other again. Marisa broke one of the rules. She glanced at Reimu’s face, and saw that she was smiling.
“Reimu,” she whispered. She opened her mouth, to try and convey how she felt. “I…” But the words fell away. Saying them felt unnatural, as if they belonged to someone else. “Um…”
Marisa couldn’t say them. Her courage left her. She leant to one side, and rested her head on Reimu’s shoulder instead. Their friendship was delicate. If Marisa said too much, it might crumble.
Reimu didn’t react at first. Marisa wondered if this was her limit.
Then slowly, Reimu pulled her hand away from Marisa’s. For a moment, Marisa feared she’d gone too far. But instead, Reimu put her arm around her, and held Marisa close. Marisa could feel Reimu’s arm tremble. They were both afraid.
The wind fell still. The grounds were engulfed in silence. Time had finally stopped.
“I love you,” said Marisa at last. The words slipped off her tongue. “I love you, Reimu.”
Reimu said nothing. The trees rustling in the distance broke the silence, growing louder and louder in the wave of wind. The trees in the grounds shook too, gently swaying from side to side.
“Me too,” whispered Reimu. She buried her face in Marisa’s hair, and breathed in. “I love you too.”
And they clung together.