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It had been seven months since Ichijo Karou had first met Godai Yuusuke. At first, Ichijo had found him irritating, so impossibly cheerful, always helping everyone, always with that ridiculous thumbs-up. But over time, that annoyance had softened into something else, something warmer.
Ichijo realized, with a mix of excitement and fear, that he was starting to like Godai. Really like him. Godai’s easy smile, the mole on his cheek, his infectious energy,
it all made Ichijo’s chest tighten and his face flush whenever he thought about him. But how could he ever confess? Everyone liked Godai. And Godai was just… Godai who knew if he even liked ichijo back.
Shaking his head, Ichijo tried to push the thoughts away.
“Morning! Godai gave these to everyone, with a little note,” a fellow officer called from behind, handing him a neatly wrapped package.
Ichijo’s heart sank. He loved Godai, but he couldn’t tell if Godai felt the same. Godai was kind to everyone it was just who he was.
With a heavy sigh, Ichijo grabbed a coffee and headed out for his patrol. He noticed, almost immediately, that the coffee was made just for him with his specific preferences . His chest fluttered, but he pushed the thought aside. But he had just spent more time with Godai than anyone else due to working with Godai who was Kuuga .
It didn’t mean anything.
He walked for a while, scanning the area for reports of an unidentified life form. The signal to call Kuuga never came. The day stretched on, quiet except for the occasional rustle of wind in the trees.
Then, soft footsteps behind him.
“Ichijo-san, you’ve been out here all day. You haven’t eaten,” Godai’s cheerful voice said, holding up a picnic basket.
Ichijo froze. That smile, so warm, so genuine, made his chest tighten again. He wanted to dismiss it, to believe it was nothing.
“Come on, you know I’m on duty,” Ichijo murmured, trying to keep his voice steady.
“Yeah, but even heroes need a break,” Godai said with a gentle laugh, tugging him toward a quiet clearing.
Godai spread out a picnic blanket and sat down, patting the spot beside him. “Sit, Ichijo-san,” he encouraged.
Ichijo hesitated, but something in Godai’s gaze melted his resolve. He sat.
Godai chattered on about his day, his words a comforting background hum, but Ichijo barely heard them. He was lost in Godai, the curve of his smile, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the warmth that seemed to radiate from him.
Then, as Godai tried to feed him a spoonful of pudding, a dollop fell onto Ichijo’s cheek.
“I’m so sorry, Ichijo-san!” Godai exclaimed, fumbling for a napkin.
If it were anyone else, Ichijo might have brushed it off. But with Godai, something inside him snapped.
“Am I really just a friend to you?” Ichijo blurted out, his voice trembling. “It’s… it’s hard to tell with you being so nice to everyone, which isn’t a bad thing, of course.”
Godai’s expression softened. He leaned closer. “Of course not,” he said simply.
Before Ichijo could process, Godai kissed him.
Ichijo’s first kiss. Not with someone he didn’t care about, but with Godai , bright, genuine, and entirely overwhelming. His heart raced, his whole body alight with a mixture of surprise and joy.
For a long moment, the world shrank to just the two of them.
When they finally pulled away, both of them smiling, Godai reached for the picnic things. Ichijo followed, his hand brushing against Godai’s. Tentatively, he intertwined their fingers.
They walked down the clearing together, hand in hand, laughing softly. Ichijo’s heart felt lighter than it had in months, and he realized something undeniable: this, this warmth, this closeness, was exactly where he was meant to be.