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It started, as most of their adventures did, with Ichiban making a bad decision.
“Nanba! Come on, man, I’ve got the perfect way to end the night,” Ichiban said, a half-empty bottle of sake dangling from his hand as they stumbled through the streets of Ijincho. His grin was wide, teeth gleaming under the neon lights, and his hair—wild as ever—caught the faint glow of a passing taxi.
Nanba sighed, adjusting the straps of his tattered backpack. “Ichiban, it’s two in the morning. What kind of idea could you possibly have right now that isn’t stupid?”
“Ramen!” Ichiban declared triumphantly, spinning on his heel to face Nanba. “We need ramen. Big, steamy bowls of miso ramen with extra pork. Nothing cures a night of bad karaoke like carbs.”
Nanba rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips. Ichiban’s enthusiasm was infectious, and he had to admit, the thought of ramen wasn’t the worst idea.
A short walk later, they found themselves at a small, dimly lit ramen shop tucked into an alley. The air was thick with the savory aroma of broth, and Ichiban practically salivated as they slid into a booth.
“I’ll take two bowls,” Ichiban said to the sleepy owner, who barely grunted in acknowledgment before disappearing into the kitchen.
Nanba slouched across from him, resting his chin in his hand. “You’re really something, you know that?”
Ichiban blinked, mid-slurp from his sake bottle. “Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, you’re like a golden retriever in human form,” Nanba said, smirking. “Always excited, always wagging your tail, and somehow dragging the rest of us into your chaos.”
Ichiban laughed, loud and unrestrained. “Hey, somebody’s gotta keep things interesting, right? Besides, you love it.”
Nanba didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared at Ichiban, the faint flicker of a thought crossing his mind. The way Ichiban lit up a room—or an alley, or a ramen shop—was magnetic. He had this ridiculous, overwhelming energy that made you want to follow him, no matter how stupid the destination.
“You’re not wrong,” Nanba muttered, barely audible over the sound of bubbling broth from the kitchen.
Ichiban leaned forward, squinting. “What was that? Didn’t catch it.”
“I said you’re not wrong, you idiot,” Nanba snapped, though his tone lacked any real bite. His face, however, was tinged with a suspicious redness.
Ichiban tilted his head, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. “Nanba… you okay? You’re looking a little flushed.”
“I’m fine!” Nanba barked, though he immediately regretted it when Ichiban slid into the seat beside him, far too close for comfort.
“You’re not fine,” Ichiban said, his voice low. “You’ve got that look. Like when you think I’ve done something dumb, but you secretly find it charming.”
Nanba’s heart skipped a beat. Damn it, Ichiban. Why did he have to be so earnest?
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nanba muttered, refusing to meet his eyes.
Ichiban wasn’t having it. “Come on, Nanba. Just admit it.”
“Admit what?” Nanba snapped, turning his head—and immediately regretted it. Ichiban was right there, their faces inches apart.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The distant sound of ramen bubbling on the stove filled the silence, but it felt like the world had gone still. Ichiban’s gaze softened, his usual boisterousness replaced with something quieter, more serious.
And then he closed the gap.
The kiss was awkward at first—Ichiban’s enthusiasm clashing with Nanba’s hesitation—but it quickly evened out, both of them leaning into the moment. Nanba’s hand found its way to Ichiban’s hair, and he couldn’t help but chuckle against his lips. “You’re such an idiot,” he murmured.
Ichiban grinned, pulling back just enough to reply. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”
Before Nanba could respond, the shop owner cleared his throat loudly from behind the counter. “Your ramen’s ready,” he said, deadpan.
They broke apart, both of them red-faced, and Ichiban laughed as he slid back into his seat. “Well, this is definitely the best ramen night ever.”
Nanba shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re impossible.”
But as they dug into their bowls, stealing occasional glances at each other, neither of them could deny that this night had turned out to be something special.