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UENO PARK IS BUSY AT THIS HOUR, AND IT GREETS YUKIO with such boisterous glee that she feels justified for having arrived so early. She stands in wait right outside the front entrance of Tokyo National Museum with her hands clasped behind her back and her feet unable to keep to themselves as they tap, tap, tap away at the paved ground. Before her is a massive pond with waters so clear and still they reflect the sky and surrounding foliage without the distortion of a ripple.
Yukio is antsy—and this feeling she knows will only go away when he finally arrives. It’s not that Ryusei is late; if anything she is embarrassingly early.
The agreed meeting time is still technically a good forty minutes away, but it’s simply impossible to stay home when there’s nothing to occupy her mind and heart but thoughts of him. The moment she’d finished getting ready, she’d found herself staring at the clock, counting down the microseconds as the hand inched closer and closer to the respectable time she could leave without looking too eager.
Oh, don’t get her wrong: it’s never Yukio’s style to hold herself back, especially not when it comes to showering Ryusei with affection. In fact, she’s spent all this time doing the exact opposite. Compliments aimed at him slip from her tongue before she can think twice about them, and she’s never been shy about making her devotion known. If she thinks he’s handsome, she’ll tell him. If she thinks he’s brilliant, she’ll tell him that, too. And if she wants to spend time with him, she’ll cling to his side without a second thought.
But today is different—it’s their first real date.
It’s ridiculous, really. Ryusei has already agreed to come. He knows exactly how she feels and she’s not afraid to show it. Well, maybe a little afraid, but she did manage to ask him out in the end, didn’t she? And in any case, nothing has fundamentally changed between yesterday and now—they’re still the same old Ryusei and Yukio, friends with added benefits, going on a more-than-friendly date. Nothing too shocking, right?
Wrong.
A tiny, irrational part of her still worried that if she’s too much, too obviously enamored by him, she might somehow scare him away. The fear doesn’t make sense, of course, and Yukio knows it doesn’t. Ryusei has indulged her all this time, hasn’t he? If he were going to be frightened off by her affection he would have fled long ago.
So in the end, after all that tossing and turning and nursing and grumbling, she’d fled the house altogether, hoping the fresh air would settle her nerves.
But who was she kidding? Of course it hadn’t, and the anticipation only grew worse. The train ride to Ueno was an interminable adventure, one that spanned the length between forever and ever. It dragged on and on and on, and every station announcement never seemed to be the one she was waiting for.
Finally, after a thousand years, she was at her stop, and upon stepping onto the platform, her entire body was practically vibrating with restlessness. She then made her way through the streets leading to the park, and around her all the world was alive, bustling, and brimming with the hope that came with crisp early afternoon air.
Yukio had hardly paid the rest of the world any mind, though, as her thoughts had been elsewhere. Namely, a certain tan-skinned man with spiky blond hair and fading pink at the tips.
And now, having crossed into Ueno Park and following the path toward the Tokyo National Museum, she stands waiting and thinking still far too much. The crowd is quite thick here, and if she’s not careful with her footing, the current might carry her along with it. Tourists drift past in clustered bunches, and families who are already knowledgeable of the layout easily weave through the walkways hand in hand. Every so often, someone brushes her shoulder and she has to lean this way or that to keep her balance.
Even so, she refuses to budge. There are less crowded places to wait for him, certainly. Places where she is less likely to be jostled around by strangers or stand in the way of impatient tourists. But moving elsewhere would mean surrendering her perfect vantage point, and Yukio has no intention of doing that. From here, she can see nearly every route Ryusei might take to reach the museum, so she would be able to spot him the moment he arrives—and that privilege is not one she’s quite willing to give up.
It’s a craving, that’s what this is. She wants to be the first to see him. Wants that brief, irreversible moment where he emerges from the sea of strangers, a beacon of greatness, and becomes the only person to draw her gaze fully and without hindrances—one colorful moth to an equally bright and burning flame. Ryusei’s the drug she never wants to quit, and my god does she want to take a hit right now.
So she remains exactly where she is, enduring the bustle of the crowd to fix her eyes on the path ahead, waiting for a familiar face to finally appear.
At least the crowd provides plenty of distractions; in her periphery she can see children darting between the legs of their either irritated or amused parents, and sometimes funny conversations would drift past her ears in fragments. For a couple minutes, she manages to find entertainment in people-watching, peering at them with idle curiosity.
Over by the large patch of grass, a little boy nearly trips over his own feet in his eagerness to chase a pigeon, only for his mortified mother to scoop him up before he can strike. Yukio fails in her attempt to suppress a laugh. Somehow, she can picture Ryusei as that child. He would have been exactly the type, she thinks. Single-minded and stubborn, charging ahead with unwavering purpose even when that purpose is questionable at best and only makes sense to children without fully developed frontal lobes. The sort of kid who would inevitably come home with scraped knees, grass stains and dirt on his clothes, and not a single shred of regret, having deemed the adventure worth every bruise.
Ah, see—now she’s thinking of him again. Well, she’s never really stood much chance of avoiding that, so might as well indulge it, right?
Humming to herself, Yukio dabs at her forehead with the back of her hand and adjusts some of the star clips in her hair that have come loose. One particular memory of him circles back with staggering force, perhaps because it’s her most recent memory of him: last night, the confession.
Even now, recalling it makes her stomach flutter.
Her first worry had been that Ryusei would not take the invitation seriously, or that he’d think it would be one of their many intimate yet still platonic dates. Or that it was just another one of Yukio’s silly shenanigans. The mere prospect of the love of her life brushing her off scared her—she had wanted so badly to bare her feelings to him, but greatly feared the toll it would take on her heart if Ryusei responded to her confession casually.
Then came her next worry: that he would never reciprocate her feelings. To her, Ryusei is a shining star, a person so blithely out of her reach that she could not even begin thinking about the lightyears-long journey it would take to cross the bridge over that connected the yawning gap between them. To her, he’s someone so great that someone like her will never truly be worthy of him.
And yet still, the truth remained that despite her insecurities and her constant fear of never being enough for the glorious shine that is Ryusei Shidou, she longs—viscerally and unequivocally—to be by his side. Rather than hold herself back, loving him has become her reason to strive for farther lengths, to shine brighter than ever and keep pushing herself forward.
Ryusei is her muse, the one person who brought color into a world that had once felt dull and lifeless to her—and it’s because of him that she learned to welcome the many challenges of becoming a better version of herself, even when the thought scared her. And she wears her love for him openly despite the sharp fangs of her anxieties because he’s exactly the kind of man who deserves to be loved loudly and without fear. She would be doing him a disservice if she deprived him of that.
Now, though… gosh, loving an explosion of a man like Ryusei Shidou is truly something she never saw coming—a sudden rush so gut-wrenching that it’s physically impossible to ignore once it had taken root in her heart. Before he came around to save her dull, monotonous life, she’d gone through the motions just fine—boring, but fine—without this ache, this staggering devotion that’s sometimes too big for her heart to carry.
But as soon as he’d come barging into her life, her love for him became a part of her so naturally that she could no longer imagine herself without it, could not even comprehend what it was like without him by her side.
And she didn’t want to, either. Even with all the worries of being inadequate all tangled up inside her, this constant, throbbing worry that she might never truly be enough for her own muse, she could never ever regret loving him. Doing so would be an affront to his character, and that’s the last thing Yukio wanted.
So that’s that. Yukio would keep trying, keep pushing forward for him, even if the mere act of loving him felt unbearably difficult in her own head sometimes, as her insecurities nagged and prodded and clawed and tormented her without mercy.
Loving Ryusei could be painful, yes—and sometimes she was her own story’s villain. It could leave her restless and overthinking, turning every glance and word they shared in her mind until she exhausted herself. But he is worth everything to her—because Ryusei is Ryusei and Yukio would not be Yukio if she didn’t love him. That he was an intoxicating drug is a thought she had since been entertaining in her mind, and perhaps that isn’t the healthiest thing to admit. There were times when her devotion bordered on obsession, egging on her stalkerish tendencies. A single smile from him would brighten her entire day, and a small thoughtless comment could leave her overthinking for hours.
But who could fault her for falling for someone so addicting? Every so often, she would be rewarded for her love: a glance sent her way, his hand on her shoulder, his lips on hers. Tiny moments, insignificant to anyone else and perhaps to him as well, yet powerful enough to sustain her for weeks. Years, even.
And last night, after lifetimes and lifetimes of harboring these feelings in her chest, her reward came in the form of a single, precious yes. She’d been so surprised, she thought she was dreaming.
She sighs happily, bouncing on the balls of her feet. The smile spreads into a grin on her face as she recalls that irreversible moment, how blissful she’d felt hearing that invaluable confirmation from him. Despite the fact that she had no idea what that would mean for their relationship going forward, she had been more than willing to shoot her shot anyway—to hell with all her reservations and uncertainties—because dammit, if she never so much as tried before admitting her defeat, then she would never forgive herself for letting someone like him slip through her fingers without even putting up a fight.
She had spent her years refusing to let fear dictate her choices anyway, chasing the things she wanted despite the risk of failure—so why should Ryusei be any different?
A couple minutes later, Ryusei finally—finally—arrives, and it’s like Yukio is seeing the world in slow motion, the stubborn crowd parting in the middle like the Red Sea to let him pass. Yukio’s heart is the rowdy child to her motherly hand, trying to be stern and hold it in place lest it wanders about without a care in the world and she loses sight of it forever.
“Woah, did I get the time wrong?” Ryusei asks worriedly once he is near enough. “I was sure you said 1PM… Did I mishear it?”
Yukio laughs at the concerned look on his face; how cute. “Nah, Ryu-chan, don’t worry. You didn’t get it wrong at all.” Rushing forward to greet him, she sneaks an arm around his and presses against his side. “I was just so excited at the thought of going on a date with you that I couldn’t simply sit still waiting at home~!”
At once, Ryusei’s worry melts from his face and he bursts into boisterous laughter. “Damn, woman, you’re crazy. I like that.” He bumps his hips to hers. “Well, come on then! Let’s not let all that excitement go to waste.”
The line to get inside is quite long but not unbearably so. As they wait, Yukio talks his ear off about what she wants to see; Ryusei is happy to listen.
“I’ve always been meaning to visit this place, but I never actually got around to doing it,” she gushes, “so I’m really excited to see what they have in store!”
They step through the museum doors, then, and the bustling noise of Ueno Park dissolves. There are plenty of people here, too, but there is a gentle hush that persists throughout, one that seems to exist solely in places built to preserve history. Sunlight filters through the tall windows and spills across the polished wooden floors; galleries stretch before them, archways through time, each one holding fragments of lived centuries before their own.
Their first stop is the Honkan, where they wander through the evolution of Japanese history: earthenware vessels weathered by millennia to lacquerware that still gleam when shone light, folding screens and samurai armors, and delicate scroll paintings that survived generation after generation.
“Watch this.”
Upon entering the gallery displaying swords and armor, Ryusei squares his shoulders, planting one hand dramatically on an imaginary katana at his waist and narrowing his eyes at an unsuspecting suit of armor. With painstaking seriousness, he draws his imaginary blade from its invisible scabbard.
“Hyaah!” At his outburst, a child standing nearby gasps in surprise. Her mother, acting quickly, ushers her away, and Yukio has to press both her hands over her mouth to keep herself from laughing too loudly, lest they be hauled out of the place by one of the roaming guards.
“Are you supposed to be a samurai?” she asks, trying not to double over with laughter.
“My honorable foe,” Ryusei declares at another suit of armor. “Prepare yourself!”
Indeed, Ryusei has this ability to commit to every ridiculous bit with such wholehearted sincerity—and this quality of his has always been one of Yukio’s Ryusei-induced weaknesses.
Eventually, they wander into the galleries displaying Buddhist sculpture and temple treasures, where towering guardians stand watch over the room, faces sculpted into ones of ferocity yet still strangely compassionate, while centuries-old bodhisattvas regard visitors with their serene, ever-permanent smiles.
“Oh, Ryu-chan, look!” she gasps, stepping closer to one statue while still careful to stay behind the barrier. “This is amazing, do you know how difficult it is to carve that by hand? Imagine doing something this detailed without modern tools—I can’t even fathom how much skill you need to have to make that possible. It’s amazing, really takes your breath away. From the quality of the pieces here, you can clearly tell how much devotion they have for their Enlightened Ones—there is nobody in the world that would do anything this meticulous if they did not care so much.”
“I think I see what you mean,” Ryusei agrees. “That’s amazing stuff, freckles. You know, speaking of details, I remember hearing about something called the ‘Marks of a Great Being’.”
Yukio perks up. “The thirty-two marks?” she clarifies. “Well, thirty-two primary and eighty minor marks.”
“I think so.” He scratches his cheek, pensive. “Apparently Buddhas, or at least depictions of them, are supposed to have all these symbolic physical features. Long earlobes—” he gestures, palm up, “—membranes between the fingers, that bump on top of the head. Stuff like that.”
“Ushnisha,” Yukio supplies.
“...Bless you.”
“No, silly,” Yukio laughs. “That bump on the head, that’s called ushnisha. It symbolizes the Buddha’s wisdom, spiritual enlightenment, and connection to the divine.”
“Spiritual enlightenment,” he echoes. “Right. I did read something about how Buddhas aren’t gods, but it’s more like a title of some sort. Like, a regular human being upgraded into, I don’t know, something superhuman after reaching complete enlightenment.”
“Yep,” Yukio says, popping the ‘p’. “Now, I’m no expert on Buddhism, but I do know a thing or two about their art. See those circles between their eyebrows? That’s called urna. It looks like a third eye, you know from Hinduism, but it’s actually a different concept! It’s supposed to symbolize spiritual clarity, radiant light, and absolute honesty. Meanwhile, in Hinduism, the third eye or the Ajna Chakra functions more like a sixth sense…”
When they eventually make their way to the Toyokan, Yukio can’t stop squealing, try as she might to stop herself. Here, the gallery opens onto an entire world beyond Japan. Here, there are exhibits displaying treasures from all over Asia. Stone buddhas from Thailand. Bronze ritual vessels from China. Textiles from Indonesia. Ceramics from Korea. Every room here immerses you into the history of a country waiting for the right audience to share their story to.
“Oh!” Yukio hurries toward a display case. “Look at this, Ryu-chan! See those lotus patterns? They look familiar, right? That’s because they originated independently in several ancient civilizations, if I remember correctly, the earliest origins can be traced back to the Nile, which later heavily influenced art, architecture, and jewelry across Egypt and Mesopotamia, then spreading to Persia. You can often see it in Chinese art, but it’s actually popularized by the spread of Buddhism from India, and later became a staple in Chinese culture. If you can’t already tell, artists borrow from each other all the time across history.”
“In other words, it’s like art has been remixing itself for thousands of years,” Ryusei summarizes.
“That’s a good way of putting it,” Yukio agrees. “It’s really fascinating.”
And before they know it, the hours slip by, and their legs begin to protest, though they are only able to explore a handful of floors. Really, the museum is too vast, the exhibits too many, to conquer in a single day.
To keep things fresh as well, the museum holds temporary special exhibitions; Yukio isn’t quite sure how often they switch it up, but today, it’s an exhibit for contemporary reinterpretations of traditional art, showcasing modern artists—as artists often do—borrowing centuries-old techniques and breathing new life into ancient motifs.
Oh, how Yukio loves art and what it reveals about the people who indulge in it! To her, art is humanity’s longest love letter to itself. Across centuries and continents, through wars, famines, the rising and falling of kingdoms, the sparks of revolutions, people have always found reasons to create. They streak paint upon walls that would one day crumble to dust. They carve statues knowing that the hands that shaped them would one day become bones six feet underground. They weave stories into tapestries, hammer prayers into bronzes, press dreams into thin paper—all so they can leave them behind for strangers whom they would never once meet.
It’s an impossibly tender declaration, a beautiful way to say ‘I was here. I have carved myself into this world.’ Art, in all its many evolutions, is a hand reaching through time and space in search of another.
Now, standing in this museum and surrounded by works whose creators had long since gone, Yukio can’t help but feel humbled and overjoyed. She hopes, with all the hope in her heart, that one day she might stand before her own art and feel that same tender connection, the burn of having once loved, of having once lived.
For isn’t that the greatest miracle art can offer? To pick apart the world and leave bits of yourself in its crevices. To whisper, ‘This is how I saw the world. Can you see it, too?’ And like all of the greatest artists in history, Yukio’s always dreamed of creating something that can touch another person’s heart like that.
Her gaze drifts to the boy standing before her: Ryusei, who has wandered a few paces ahead, hands in his pockets as he studies a painting with the same earnest curiosity he always gives everything that comes his way. Ryusei, who is her greatest muse.
If art is humanity’s love letter to itself, then perhaps her art will be her love letter to him.
Perhaps she can carve a space for herself in his world.
As though sensing her gaze, Ryusei turns and offers her an eager but confused grin. “What?” he asks. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” she says. Nothing at all, but you.
As the saying goes, time passes by quickly when you’re having fun—and never before had Yukio sympathized with that adage more than now. By the time they stepped back outside, a full two hours had somehow slipped away, gone in the blink of an eye. Had somehow asked her how long they’d been inside, she would have guessed half that time at most.
In fact, it wasn’t until they emerged from the museum that she became aware of the dryness in her throat. She’d spent so much of the afternoon talking, laughing, and hanging onto every word that came out of Ryusei’s mouth that she’d completely forgotten about mundane concerns like thirst. Not that she minds—the discomfort serves as proof that she’d enjoyed herself.
And enjoy herself she did, she thinks with a smile.
At this point, there are more people at Ueno Park than there had been earlier in the day. The walkways teem with people, voices blending together in a pleasant, neutral hum that drifts through the late afternoon air. Families stroll beneath the trees with excited children in tow, parents pausing every so often to indulge curious questions or rein in naughty little wandering feet. Groups of friends linger near stalls, food-hopping and comparing skewers, or hanging around the benches. Couples young and old walk hand in hand along the paths, content to lose themselves in each other’s company.
The park feels alive, and ordinarily, she might have found herself watching them with idle curiosity. Today, however, she can scarcely spare them more than a passing glance. After all, she had rather excellent company of her own.
Lightly, Yukio massages her throat, coughing. Gosh, if only she had some water right now. She looked around, looking for a nearby vendor.
Ryusei’s gaze flickers to her, then, giving her a thoughtful look. “Wait here a second.” Before Yukio can ask what he’s doing, he’s already turning away.
She watches him jog toward a nearby stall, blinking after him in confusion, wondering what could have possibly caught his attention.
The answer becomes apparent a minute later when Ryusei returns carrying a bottle of water in one hand. “Here you go,” he says, extending it toward her.
“Thanks,” she says, taking it. She’s unable to keep the smile from creeping onto her face—not that she wants to hide it—and he’s pretty sure she’s red in the face right now, but he doesn’t comment on it. Wordlessly, she uncaps the bottle and drinks half of its contents. The water cools her throat rightly, yet her heart is as warm as it gets.
“You done?” Ryusei asks, before reaching for the bottle. He tilts it back, finishing off its remains in a few easy gulps.
Yukio is immediately captivated. She’s not trying to stare like a creep, of course—only she ends up doing just that, anyway.
His throat bobs as he drinks, sunlight catching on the clear plastic bottle as the water disappears little by little. A tiny stream escapes the corner of his mouth, trails down the line of his jaw and disappears beneath the collar of his shirt.
Yukio swallows thickly, but it only makes her more aware of what she’s staring at. Really, this is ridiculous. He’s just drinking water. People do that everyday; it’s a perfectly normal thing to do, and there is nothing remotely remarkable about it. But… fuck—because it’s Ryusei, it’s so… so sexy.
Shit. Yukio has to tear her eyes away and pray he hadn’t noticed her publicly lusting over him for drinking water.
“Come on, let’s go!” Ryusei makes a grab for her hand and starts dragging her to their next agenda of the day: the National Museum of Nature and Science.
From the outside, the building looks impressive, rising proudly at the heart of the park. Built from pale stone, tall columns frame the entrance and the broad steps that lead to the busy main doors. A large whale statue erects from the ground by the entrance, which Yukio excitedly points at.
“That thing’s huge!” she exclaims in wonder, fishing for her phone from her pocket to take a photo of it. She would love to make art out of it to commemorate this day.
But it seems that Ryusei has other plans, because he grabs her phone, his lips fixed with that permanent all-teeth grin. “Smile, freckles!” he says, throwing a peace sign up.
Yukio’s surprise lasts all of five seconds before she gets over it and poses for the camera as well, pressing as close to him as she possibly can. “We look so cute!” she gushes when they both go over the photos.
Ryusei only winks at her before tossing back the phone.
The entrance area is buzzing with tourists and students, so it takes them a couple minutes to snag a museum map from the chaotic information desk. Seriously, Yukio has nothing against tourists but they can be pretty impatient. At least, now that they’ve got a map, they’re able to leave the buzz of the area and head over to a corner, where Ryusei is quick to take the lead in making their game plan.
He spreads the map open between the two of them, determined. “Alright,” he says, tapping random locations with exaggerated seriousness, “I’ve got a really, really important question that I need you to answer: which exhibit should we visit first?”
“You like dinosaurs, so we should do that first,” Yukio suggests.
“Heh!” Ryusei points a triumphant finger at her. “Good choice!” He folds the map back to a small rectangle before nodding at the dinosaur exhibit. “Onward, then!”
Yukio giggles, shaking her head at his silliness, but it is a shake of endearment rather than disapproval. Gosh, he is so adorable!
“Freckles, I need to ask you another important question, and you should know that whatever you say can and will be held against you.”
She sticks her tongue out. “Fire away, Ryu-chan!”
“Which dinosaur do you think survives the longest in a death match?” he asks seriously. “And you’d better consider this carefully, because your answer will affect our date!”
“Hmm…” Yukio plays along, wiggling her eyebrows at him as she pretends to think. “I don’t know, Ryu-chan, which dinosaur is it?” But she doesn’t have to ask, actually, because she knows Ryusei and thus knows what he’s going to say before he even says it.
“Velociraptors, of course!” he huffs happily. Ha, called it. “Those things are the best!”
It is then that they spend the next several minutes discussing dinosaur survival strategies, weaving through clusters of people as they did so, until at last they enter the dinosaur gallery. There, they see that the place is all dark ceilings and towering skeletons stretching overhead like ancient gods immortalized in time and space.
“Holy shit,” Ryusei mutters, staring at the exhibits. He points at one skeleton in particular—all sharp ribs and impossible height as it looms above them. “That’s sick.”
As he tilts his head back to stare at it, Yukio goes to read the info card plastered next to the skeleton: TRICERATOPS. According to the data sheet, its scientific name is Triceratops horridus. The word “triceratops” apparently translates as “three-horned face” from Greek.
“It was one of the last dinosaurs to roam the Earth before the mass extinction,” she tells him, catching his attention. He joins her where she stands and reads along. “A plant-eating dinosaur… three facial horns and a bony frill… Ooh, these features are said to have been used for defense or display. That’s cool. Wonder how that works, the defense mechanism part.”
“They attack with the horns, while the frills are for defense, I think,” Ryusei says, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “You can probably imagine how they use the horns, but the frills act like a shield of sorts.”
“I guess you really like triceratops, huh, Ryu-chan?” She grins at him.
“Well, they are pretty cool. It’s only natural.” Smiling, he bumps her shoulder with his own before walking ahead, hands shoved into his pockets. His eyes are drawn to the fossil displays with rapt attention, and every few seconds, he would call her over to look at something he either found awesome or ridiculous.
“Look,” he says at one point. “This fish has got a built-in armor.” At another time, he points at a “thing that had teeth on its teeth.” Yukio can only grin and follow along at his excited antics.
“Imagine getting hunted by this creepy bastard,” he jests, and Yukio is helpless with bouts of laughter at every one of the jokes he makes.
Under one enormous Tyrannosaurus skeleton, she stops them in their tracks: “Hey, let’s get a photo with this thing! You stand over there and pretend it’s gonna eat you.”
“Hmm. I got a better idea.” He stares at her for a few moments, an intense look in his eyes that makes Yukio feel like she’s burning up, before saying, “C’mere.”
Yukio lets herself be pulled into his strong arms, and once his biceps are fully wrapped around her, she’s barely able to snap the photo with her shaking hands.
Her heart thuds in her chest impossibly. For someone so loud, Ryusei Shidou has his strange moments of intensity like this that makes the world fall quiet and the rest of the room disappear. Indeed, what an enigma he is—and it’s little wonder why she’s so madly in love with him.
Fuck. Thinking about it is making her heart ache.
Yukio presses her lips together and closes her eyes. When it comes to Ryusei Shidou, it is virtually impossible to be normal about, well, anything. He is explosive and brilliant, and so she must be the same. But sometimes her love for him is so intense that she has no idea where to place it; it fills every inch of space and crevices in her chest and if she’s not careful, it might overflow.
How lucky Yukio is to be able to share this moment, this life, with him. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
By the time they leave the dinosaur section, almost an hour has passed without either of them noticing. They simply let their feet and the swell of the crowd carry them past the threshold of this exhibit and into the next.
“The giant animals exhibit,” she says aloud. It’s calmer here compared to the previous gallery, which is quite sad; surely the animals here deserve the fanfare just as much as the dinosaurs do. As expected, there were hyperrealistic sculptures everywhere she looked. Massive bears stood frozen mid-roar behind glass panes, and birds with impossibly wide wingspans hung from the rafters overhead. “It’s a shame a lot less people are interested in this. I’m sure the curators and sculptors worked hard on these, too!”
“Yeah,” Ryusei agrees as they walk through the ocean section, dim blue light reminiscent of the ocean reflecting across his face. “Hey, maybe you can do something to help. The dinosaurs get all the attention, but this exhibit deserves some love as well.”
“What, should I start a citywide marketing campaign myself and convince everyone to visit?”
“Yeah, put those vandalism skills to good use!” he calls over his shoulder, jogging over to read an info card about the orca.
Yukio stares at him as he wanders around, trailing close by—her heart full and happy. She’s probably repeated this thought a million times today, but it’s still so damn surreal to her that she’s actually on a date with him. Never in her life—even back when she’d started stalking him—did she ever think she would actually end up on a real, actual, legitimate date date with him.
Sure, she’d dreamt about it constantly, but had been just that—a dream. A fierce belief that had taken root and shape in her heart and plagued her mind constantly, something she clung to with stubborn and reckless conviction—come hell or high water, she would make it happen. But now that it was actually happening, it felt unreal!
She sighs lovingly to herself before bouncing off toward him. “What do you think is the most terrifying animal here, Ryu-chan?” she asks, tapping him on the shoulder with a grin.
Ryusei’s answer is immediate: he points at a depiction of a tiny frog. Venomous, the info card reads.
Yukio stops, head tilted. “That’s what you’re scared of?” No offense to the tiny thing, but she’s under the impression that he would be scared of larger, louder creatures like bears or woolly mammoths. Not that the latter is particularly scary, herbivores as they were. But she digresses. “I thought it would be that huge bear over there or something.”
“Yo,” he begins, pointing a finger at her. “It’s always the little psychos that get you, didn’t you know? I mean, I still think they’re mad cool but they’re still scary as hell!”
“I’m sorry, but all I’m hearing is you’re scared of that tiny little thing!” she teases, wiggling her finger in front of his face in return. Touché, eh?
“Hey, watch it, freckles!” he scolded, but he’s grinning, too. “Never discriminate by size!”
At another display, past the fish and other mammal fossils, Yukio stops in front of a small sculpture of an absurdly fluffy arctic fox. She knows it’s not actually fluffy, it being made of hard material and all, but damn did the sculptor make it look like it is. She didn’t even know arctic foxes could be that soft and cuddly-looking! “That one,” she exclaims. “I’d keep that as a pet. Oh, that’s so adorable!”
Ryusei crosses his arms, playing the part of the unimpressed guy. “Taking the cowardly choice, eh, freckles? Well, I’m taking the tiger!”
“You’re scared of a tiny frog, but you’ll have a tiger as a pet?”
“Exactly! Nothing scares me more than that frog, and certainly not a tiger!”
“The tiger will maul you to shreds, Ryu-chan.”
He flexes his arms and wiggles his brows. “Nah, it would respect me. See these guns? I’m the boss, and it knows that.”
“Ryu-chan, you know I like you a lot, but I think that tiger would eat even you in, like, thirty seconds. You’d die, Ryu-chan.”
“In that case, it would be totally worth it, but I’m offended you have so little faith in me!”
Eventually, they reached the Earth and Space Science floor. The place was beautiful beyond words—displays of precious crystals and minerals and slabs of different kinds of stone, meteorite samples, diagrams and models of the lithosphere. A globe hangs suspended in the middle of one chamber, and surrounding it are the other planets of the solar system as they all follow their lonely orbits through the darkness.
Taking all of it in, Yukio develops a deeper appreciation for the universe. Here, she feels a peculiar sensation: that of being both smaller and larger than ever before.
“Ryu-chan, if you had to pick one, which would you choose: meteorites, volcanoes, gemstones, or astronomy?”
Ryusei considers the question, brows furrowed in focus, lips pursed. “Space rocks,” he finally decides after some time.
“Any particular reason for that?”
“Uh…” He runs a tongue across his bottom lip. “I guess ‘cause they look like they got kicked straight outta heaven or something. They’re so funny-looking but, like, cool at the same time.”
Leave it to him to say something so silly and absurd. Well, space rocks, it is, then! They march over to the meteorite display room first: dark walls, dim spotlights, and ancient stone samples locked firmly behind a glass wall. How bizarre to think that things had once been roaming the vast ocean of outer space.
He leans closer to one display, reading the plaque with mild interest that doesn’t quite match how deeply he’d quirked his brows.
“You ever think about how tiny everything is?” he asks suddenly, staring at the space rock sample.
Yukio blinks at him; what a sudden somber turn of conversation. “What do you mean?”
“Like…” He gestures around vaguely. “Dinosaurs die, then humans show up. These meteors… who knows just how many of them are flying around forever?” He shrugs. “Whole planet’s just straight up chaos, and we’re all so tiny in the midst of it all.”
“Yeah, it really puts things into perspective, you know?” she agrees. “But that’s not something I would bring up on a first date, I think. I’d talk about something romantic instead.” She’s only teasing, though, so she smirks at him to let him know it’s only a joke. How Yukio loves to listen to him ramble about the most thought-provoking or even mundane things. Hell, she’d watch him watch paint dry if she could.
He flashes her his teeth, snaking an arm around her neck in a headlock to ruffle her hair. “Oh, you,” he says, while she pretends she doesn’t like the attention and goes, “Hey! Let me go, Ryu-chan!” Really, it’s just some reverse psychology, and it works because his grip around her only tightens. He lets her go after a while and adds, “What’s wrong with me containing multitudes, eh?”
She snorts; he glances at her, and there’s that damn look again—that sharp yet somewhat pensive gleam in his eyes, the same one he sent her way earlier at the dinosaur gallery.
“But I suppose you’re right, and it really doesn’t matter,” he says. “Because right now, I’m here with you. Who cares about the chaos of the world, right?”
Then, as if he hadn’t just caused her entire world to collapse and regurgitated it back out, he grabbed her hand and led her out of the museum.
Damn you, Ryusei Shidou! she thinks, clutching at her chest with her other hand.
It’s 4PM by the time they get out, and Yukio’s still reeling from his words. How dare he say something so easily and not own up to the consequences? Doesn’t he know it isn’t healthy for her heart?
But at least she can distract herself for now, because it’s finally time for the third agenda of their date, Tokyo Dome City!
Truth be told, Yukio’s feet have been begging for her to take a break, and she’s ninety percent sure her legs are going to detach from her body and file for emancipation, but she’d be damned if she let a little soreness stop her!
Her heart’s all full, anyway, and this alone is enough to fuel her for the remainder of the very long day, even if she had to walk for four straight hours.
Ryusei, of course, refuses to let this slip past his notice. “You’re slowing down, freckles,” he calls over his shoulder. “I thought artists are supposed to be masters of endurance?”
“Unfortunately, Ryu-chan, I’m built for sitting dramatically in front of a canvas or a wall for, say, twelve hours, but don’t you worry about me,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. “You know for you I would do anything.”
He barks a boisterous laugh at that. “Yeah? Then you better not let me hear you complain or throw up later, hmm?”
Oh. She tries not to grimace; she’s not too sure about the not throwing up part…
When they arrive at Tokyo Dome City, the entire place is glowing with lights and the distant roar of roller coasters. Sure enough, the sound alone is enough to make Yukio both queasy and a little bit excited. Her mind is filled with shaky visions of her going on one of the rides…
…with Ryusei by her side, and how he would see her all nervous and anxious, then, in a stroke of chivalrous display, he would hold her hand to calm her down…
Oh, my god. The thought makes her so excited that she actually forgets she’s here with him in the first place and damn near screams before she catches herself at the last second. Calm down, Yukio!
Thankfully, Ryusei doesn’t notice and heads for the ticket booth after a loud announcement that he’s going to purchase tickets for them both. “Sit here and wait for me!”
Ah, finally—her poor legs can now get the break they deserve. She rolls her ankles and stretches her legs, a small sigh escaping her. It’s a good kind of exhausting, at least, and she’ll take this pain any day if it means being with the love of her life.
Above her, the Thunder Dolphin roars with a metallic hiss, catching her attention. She stares at its massive, twisting tracks as the riders pass swiftly by, shrieking the souls out of their bodies and into the late afternoon air.
Oh, dear. Are we going to ride that? Immediately, Yukio starts to regret being alive.
She glances around, searching for where Ryusei is standing in line. Ah, there he is, and he’s looking in the opposite direction! Perfect. Discreetly, she reaches into her bag and takes out a motion sickness tablet. She doesn’t have water with her, so she’ll have to do without. Thanks to her desperation, she manages to gulp it down, and it slides past her throat without much commotion. Not bad.
Later, her beloved finally returns, waving the tickets around in success. He must have seen the look on her face, because he cocks an eyebrow at her, smirking.
“Scared, freckles?” he teases, shark-like grin widening. “Don’t think I didn’t see you pop that pill when you thought I wasn’t looking.”
See, normally, all Yukio would have gathered from that statement is the glaring fact that Ryusei had been looking at her! Alas, now is not a normal scenario, and she’s struggling with the burden of balancing both that excitement and her fear of getting motion sickness from these extreme rides, so in the end, all she can do is respond with a half-assed, “Nah, I’m just prepared…”
“Ha!” Ryusei exclaims. “Sounds like just plain fear but with extra steps. Well? Come on, how about we have some light-hearted fun at the arcade first so you can regain some of the color on your face before Tokyo Dome City robs the life out of you, eh?”
“Sounds great, Ryu-chan.” She’s barely able to suppress her sigh of relief as she lets him drag her to the arcade, where he annihilates her at every game imaginable: basketball shooters, racing simulators, rhythm games. Each one results in resounding defeat, and the only game where Yukio’s actually able to hold her ground is the zombie shooter—but even at that, the great and ever-agile Ryusei Shidou manages to beat her (it was a close match! Yukio swears).
Strangely, despite her glaringly continuous loss, she feels… light. With every defeat comes Ryusei’s teasing, and with every remark Yukio’s earlier fear dissipates into the warm Tokyo air. Still, the stubborn gurgling in her stomach won’t go away, but at least it’s now settled into a milder monster.
“That all you got, freckles?” He flashes her a mischievous grin.
“You wish,” she bites back, competitive. “I’m just going easy on you so you won’t be leaving this place, crying on my shoulder.” She pauses, pretending to think. “You know what? Now that I think of it, it would actually be nice to have you crying on my shoulder.”
“Heh.” He sticks his tongue out at her. “Dream on!”
For all her bluffing, it’s no surprise to Yukio that from one of the claw machines, Ryusei manages to win a prize at his second attempt—after Yukio had already burned through nearly two thousand yen attempting the exact same thing. Seriously, she’s always known Ryusei is capable of anything, but this is insane!
“How is that even possible?” she cries, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Did you bribe the machine or something?”
He barks a laugh. “Ha! Now who’s being silly? Here.” He tosses the toy at her. “Keep it.”
Yukio catches the plush with a startled squawk, staring down at the tiny dumb shark plush. It oddly looks like him, all teeth and playful shenanigans and he’s… giving it to her?
“Awww!” she can’t help but coo aloud, hugging the toy close to her chest. “Thank you, Ryu-chan!”
He gives her another teasing grin, but it’s softer than before. “Well, it’s no bouquet…”
And oh—he is so precious to her.
Yukio’s always the happiest when she’s with him. Even if she isn’t entirely certain whether the affection he feels for her—because surely he must feel some level of affection for her—is equal to what she feels for him, it isn’t nearly enough to dull her joy. After all, her love for him isn’t so fragile that it can be shattered by the idea that he might not love her back in the same measure. In the end, the only thing capable of standing in her way is herself.
Still, whatever battles she wages with her self-esteem seem insignificant now.
Because right now, Ryusei Shidou is giving Yukio Chiwaki a gift.
Right now, he is smiling at her with such warmth that she feels impossibly light yet unbearably full all at once. Her heart beats so arduously that it feels as though it might implode, her ribcage never designed to contain such an overwhelming explosion.
God, she could live off this feeling forever.
“Flowers or not, it’s from you, Ryu-chan, so it’s the best gift ever!” she exclaims, grabbing him from the side to gather him in an embrace. He’s too large for her to fully fit in the circumference of her arms, but it’ll have to do.
Is it her imagination or did he stiffen from the hug? Yukio’s barely able to entertain the idea because as she holds him tighter, he squeezes her right back. It must have just been her imagination, then.
“Man, you must really like sharks!” he says into her hair.
If the laugh she lets out in response to that sounds a little hysterical, then that’s between her and the Ryusei-shaped axis around which her world spins.
“Come on, that’s enough dilly-dallying. Let’s get on the Viking!”
Oh, brother. Yukio tries not to gag at the mere thought of being on such a dizzying ride. The plush is small enough to fit in her bag, so she tucks it inside and lets Ryusei drag her to the first ride, and her leg, which shook anxiously as they waited in line, still shakes by the time they are finally sat on the ride. Fixing her eyes on the sky, she takes a deep breath and forces herself to calm down. The ride operators check seatbelts and final safety measures, and when they step back, Yukio knows it’s coming.
The music starts, and she’s practically foaming at the mouth from the suspenseful anticipation. It won’t be as bad as a roller coaster, she tells herself, and though it helps settle the gurgling of her stomach, it doesn’t ease the lightheaded feeling. The ride starts to rock—slowly at first—and beside her, Ryusei is whooping and hollering in joy. She can’t understand it. Why is he so excited?
And then it swings faster and faster, and all Yukio can see is one meaningless, muddled blur of lights and sky and hair. She wants to scream, but she fears she might unleash a torrent of vomit on a poor, unsuspecting tourist, so she keeps her mouth shut and tries not to pass out.
Eventually, her misery ends, and as everyone leaves the ride laughing and talking among themselves, Yukio clutches Ryusei’s arm with one hand and massages her temple with the other.
He adjusts his arm so she can have a better grip. “If that’s all it takes to bring you down, freckles, I'd hate to see what a roller coaster would do. We'd probably have to scrape you off the pavement.”
“Eurgh…” she groans. She wants to go along with the banter—really, she does—but she can’t even think of a quip to say.
Ryusei, meanwhile, only laughs at her before dragging her to the next ride: the Cosmic Traveler. Now, fortunately for Yukio, this one doesn’t look too bad—just a simple rotating glider that also moves up and down. It’s as time as amusement park rides can go, so she’s quite optimistic that it won’t end with the contents of her stomach on the ground as soon as she gets off.
“Normally, I don’t go for kiddie rides like these,” Ryusei announces, “but since you’re not feeling too good, I thought this would be the perfect ride to help your stomach settle. Besides, it’s a pretty long line, so it should give you enough time to calm down.”
Yukio doesn’t really see how going on another ride after the one that made her sick is a good idea, but she decides not to argue. It looks like Ryusei is right, though, about this being a kiddie ride, because most of the people in line are families with toddlers. Still, the Cosmic Traveler is a ride, and rides mean motion sickness.
True enough, by the time they sit on the contraption, Yukio’s stomach is making gurgling noises that she can no longer ignore. It gets so bad that Ryusei closes his hand over hers on the railing and tells her to close her eyes if she can’t take it.
“I’m okay,” she says, but as soon as the ride starts both rotating and going up and down, she takes his advice anyway and keeps her eyes clamped shut. It helps a bit, but the repeated rising and sinking feeling in her stomach never goes away.
When they climb down, Ryusei teases her again, poking her cheek, but this time Yukio can’t even muster a smile as she concentrates hard on not puking. And, of course, it’s only natural that as soon as Ryusei sighs and offers her his arm for support, she quickly takes the opportunity and latches onto it greedily.
The feeling of his firm muscles against her provides some comfort, at least, and she’s all too happy to keep holding onto him even as the feeling subsides while they wait in line for the Flying Balloon. Speaking of lines, no words are enough to express just how glad she is for the long queues in between rides—if Ryusei honestly had his way and they didn’t have to wait in line, he would be hopping from one ride to the next without giving her a chance to catch her breath.
“I would say that the Flying Balloon doesn’t look too bad, but that’s what I said about the Cosmic Traveler, too,” she mutters, looking up at it. The thing was massive, about thirty-two feet if she eyeballed it correctly. It’s technically a “junior” as far as drop tower attractions go—which implies that a “senior” drop tower exists, and Yukio would hate to be in one. You’d have to drag her kicking and screaming.
Sure enough, when the ride operators deposited them safely out of the gate after the ride was administered, Yukio scrambles to get as quickly away from Ryusei as possible—not even bothering to hear out the teasing she knows would come—in search for the nearest bathroom.
Now, it probably wouldn’t have been so bad if they had taken this ride first, but her stomach was already queasy from the previous attractions, and this one had a mean drop! So much for being a “junior” version.
Yukio’s acutely aware of Ryusei following her, but now isn’t the time to feel excited about it—something Yukio never thought would be even possible. Leave it to her motion sickness to pull something like that off.
…and just her fucking luck. The first bathroom she finds has too long a queue, and her stomach can no longer accommodate any delays. Already, she can taste the bitterness of bile rising up her throat, settling like disgusting formula on her tongue. Dammit, she can’t do this shit right now!
At the very last second, it occurs to her that puking is not limited to the comforts of the indoors. Practically stumbling on her own two feet, she goes around the building and gets to a secluded alley just in time for her mouth to open—and projectile-vomit all over the side bathroom wall. At some point, she feels a hand patting her back, and she would have been startled by it, except she does not even need to turn around to recognize whose hand it is.
“Oh, there, there,” Ryusei says sympathetically, patting her on the back. “Poor you.”
Later, her stomach no longer has anything left to give. She heaves one last time, before dabbing at her lips with the sleeve of her shirt.
He offers her a bottle of water he had bought from a vendor along the way. She takes it quickly—practically pounces on it—and downs it all in one go. The fleeting worry that he would be repulsed by her crosses her mind, but Yukio knows he isn’t that type of guy. Still, it’s a shame she had such an accident on their date…
A few minutes later, she calms down and quickly declares, “I’m okay now!”
“You sure?” Ryusei asks, brows cocked as he crosses his arms over his chest.
Puffing her chest out, she says with pride, “Yes, of course!”
He narrows his eyes at her, unconvinced, and she’s just about to say something to persuade him when he suddenly breaks out into a huge, toothy grin. “Then let’s go to the Thunder Dolphin, freckles!”
For the millionth time today, she lets him drag her to the ride he wanted, laughing at seeing him so enthused. Ryusei’s smile may very well be the antidote to her motion sickness—if only life were that romantic!
“Hey, haven’t we been in this area of the park before?” she complains, looking around. She remembers hearing the screams from the Thunder Dolphin as they entered the gates, remembers the shiver that had run up her spine, then. “You got us running around in circles instead of going through each ride in order!”
“I was going for the rides that had shorter lines so we didn’t have to wait long!” he huffs. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice my genius.”
The Thunder Dolphin rollercoaster greets them with a queue of about three dozen families and/or couples, much to Ryusei’s disappointment and Yukio’s delight. He’s determined to see it through, though, because it’s the ride he’s most excited to go on. And of course, Yukio is perfectly content to trail after him if it means seeing him so happy.
“I’m so glad Ryu-chan is enjoying these rides,” she rambles. “I'm so glad Ryu-chan's having fun on these rides. I do feel kind of bad for throwing up, though. That's... really embarrassing, not gonna lie. But if you’re having a good time, then I'm happy too.” She sighs. “I just... really hope I don't puke again. That roller coaster looks terrifying…”
“So you really are still dizzy!” Ryusei declares, shoving an accusatory finger at her face. “We don’t have to ride it if you don’t feel good. We can just skip and go straight to the ferris wheel instead.”
“No, I can do it!” she insists, squaring her shoulders with newfound determination. Rummaging through her bag, Yukio fishes out another motion sickness pill and pops it into her mouth. “I am not puking again!”
She, in fact, does not puke again (hooray!) but she does, however, scream so loudly that Ryusei is convinced he’d gone deaf in one ear, and the moment the ride comes to a stop, he clutches the side of his head dramatically.
“You’ve injured me! I think my hearing’s permanently damaged.”
Yukio gasps, reaching for his head. “Then hold still and I’ll scream into the other ear to make it fair!”
At this, Ryusei stands upright. “You know what, freckles? I’m suddenly fine. IT’S A MIRACLE!”
“HA!” Yukio counters smugly. “That’s what I thought.”
“Well, congratulations, anyway—you didn’t puke!”
“Hell yeah, I didn’t!” She bobs her head excitedly. “What did I tell you? Now let’s go to the ferris wheel!”
“Hell yeah, baby!”
As they weave through the ever-thickening crowd, Tokyo Dome City seems to come alive under the night sky. Strings of lights glow overhead, music spilling from every direction, and even the air itself buzzes with laughter and chatter and distant screams.
Ryusei, meanwhile, can’t stop talking about the roller coaster as they march for the ferris wheel. “It went zing! Then boom!” he recounts, throwing his hands around animatedly to reenact every twist and drop. “I didn’t even know roller coasters were allowed to do that!”
Zing and boom, huh? Yukio’s stomach gurgles. Oh, they certainly had. She can still feel the violent lurch of the first drop. It’s like every loop seemed determined to wring the soul from her body, and there’s this terrifying sensation of her stomach being left somewhere several feet above her.
Beyond that nightmare, though, her memories are surprisingly sparse. Mostly because she’d spent nearly the entire ride with her eyes squeezed shut, fingers locked in a death grip around the safety bar, and her mouth frozen in a permanent scream. The rest of her concentration, then, had been devoted entirely to one singular objective, which is to not hurl what little is left in her stomach to the air.
Against all odds, she manages to succeed! Though her dignity hadn’t been left intact and she’d made Ryusei deaf in one ear, at least she hadn’t completely embarrassed herself again. Ha, take that, roller coaster!
As expected the line is pretty long here, too—families, couples, and groups of friends shuffling forward at a leisurely pace, all hoping to see the moon and the brightly lit scenery from the top. Now that the intense rides are behind them and her stomach finally stops threatening mutiny, Yukio can simply exist beside Ryusei without worrying about anything else.
“I still can’t believe that drop!” he says for what has to be the third time, gesticulating wildly enough that Yukio has to sidestep an accidental blow to the hip. “And when it twisted—did you feel that? I swear I thought we were upside down for, like, ten seconds!”
“I think it was more sideways, than upside down.”
“It felt like we were upside down.”
Earlier, while they'd been waiting in line for the other rides, Ryusei had been too busy gawking at every attraction they passed while Yukio stood quietly, focusing all of her energy on convincing her stomach not to implode. There hadn't been much room for conversation then like there is now.
As they slowly inch toward the front of the line, Ryusei excitedly recounts every moment that had made his heart race. Every so often, he’d ask, “Do you remember this part?” only for Yukio to sheepishly admit she’d spend most of the ride with her eyes squeezed shut.
"You missed the best part!"
"I was trying not to die."
"You were never gonna die."
"I wasn't so sure."
Watching him retell the day’s adventures somehow makes them feel funnier and brighter, as though she’s getting to experience them all over again through the lens of someone who had actually enjoyed them. And, well, everything’s always brighter with Ryusei, so it only makes sense.
Eventually, they reach the front of the line, where a ride attendant ushers them into one of the gondolas, and the door clicks shut behind them. The ride will last for only a couple minutes, and Yukio’s determined to savor every bit of it.
Inside, they settle into their opposite benches to keep it balanced, but Ryusei shifts in his seat to peer over the side, and the gondola sways along with him.
“R-ryu-chan!” Yukio’s eyes widen in fright. “Don’t move so much!”
“What? It barely even shook.”
“Barely?” she repeats, incredulous. “It violently lurched!”
Ryusei laughs and leans back. “Fine.”
Satisfied, Yukio can finally relax while the ferris wheel carries them higher and higher above the park. Down below,the crowds shrink into colorful streams weaving between attractions. Strings of light wrap around buildings and rides, ribbons of flashing gold and neon red and blue and green. In the distance, the moon looks upon them like a mystical guardian, silent in its witness but imposing with its presence.
“Whoa…” Ryusei breathes, jaw dropped in awe. “It looks so pretty!”
Yukio smiles softly, eyes on him and only him. “Yeah,” she says. “You’re right.”
They bask in the marvel; his attention remains fixed on the sprawling view below, eyes sparkling with the same childlike wonder he’d had since they’d entered the museum. Yukio, on the other hand, is admiring something else entirely: the city lights reflecting in his eyes, the flash of color from below illuminating his face every so often, the way his smile hasn’t left him once.
Indeed, this view is beautiful. She can’t bring herself to look away.
As though sensing her intense gaze, Ryusei turns and their eyes meet. A heartbeat passes, and neither of them say anything. Then he smiles at her, not in the same loud and triumphant way he did after conquering the Thunder Dolphin, or the teasing smirk he flashed whenever he playfully teased her—but a quiet, meaningful smile that’s soft around the edges without the bluster of mischievous bravado.
They look away from each other after a long while and sit in the comfort of this silence. The ferris wheel has climbed higher than any of the other rides, carrying them above the noise until even the shrieks of terror and whoops of delight from the roller coaster become distant echoes. Yukio rests her arms on the windowsill, letting herself drink in the view before glancing back at him.
“Are you having lots of fun, Ryu-chan?” she asks.
“You bet, freckles.” With the answer comes a grin so wide it looks like his cheek muscles would hurt from the effort, then his face falls into a disgusted scrunch. “Well,” he amends jokingly, “except maybe for the puking part.
Yukio groans. “Hey, that’s not fair!”
He laughs at her reaction. “Okay, but for real. Looking back, it was kind of hilarious.”
“Ryu-chan!”
“What?” he protests, unrepentant. “Watching you fight for your life every time we got on a ride was pretty entertaining.”
“I was not fighting for my life. I was… I was savoring it.”
“Girl, you looked like you were writing your last will and testament.”
She puffs out her cheeks in indignation, but it lasts all of three seconds before his laughter proves too infectious—and soon enough, she’s laughing, too. At this point, they’ve passed the summit and are now beginning their slow descent.
“...Well,” Yukio says as the last of her laughter makes its way out of her, “I had fun, too. Puking and all.”
“I’m glad.”
She traces absent circles on her thighs with her fingertip. It’s unlike her to be shy, but this moment feels too intimate not to be. “I always have fun when I’m with you, Ryu-chan.”
“...Me too.”
By the time the ferris wheel completes its cycle and the attendant unlatches the gondola door, the night has grown older, and the frantic pace that has once carried them from one attraction to the next is gradually melting away, adrenaline wrung dry from their bodies at last. There is no longer any need to rush; instead of racing toward another ride, they wander beneath the strings of golden lights draped between stalls, letting themselves be swept along by the current of people drifting through the park.
Music floats from somewhere in the distance and into their ears, blending with the usual clatter of amusement parks and the occasional bursts of laughter from passersby. Every so often, Ryusei will point at a game booth or a mascot waddling by, and Yukio will follow his gaze and talk to him about whatever it is he is raving for.
Eventually, the unmistakable aroma of grilled meat drifts through the air, making them both halt in their steps as their stomachs grumble. Their eyes meet, and without a word, they agree to follow the smell to its source, eventually arriving at a yakiniku, where the rich scent of sizzling beef and sweet soy marinade wafts into their noses and straight to their stomachs.
Ryusei’s mouth is practically drooling as he wastes no time in ordering. One plate becomes two, then two becomes three—and Yukio watches the server jot everything down diligently before glancing at him.
“...Can you actually finish all that, Ryu-chan?”
He looks genuinely offended at the question. “Watch me, freckles.”
Well, Yukio supposes her first mistake is underestimating his appetite especially after a day full of activity. Sure enough, once the food arrives, Ryusei attacks it with the same enthusiasm he’d shown every ride at the park.
Meanwhile, Yukio wraps both hands around her cup of water, taking small sips instead of reaching for her chopsticks. The nausea has mostly passed, but the mere thought of eating a full meal after everything she’d put her stomach through makes it churn uneasily. She wants to enjoy the food—she really does—but her body isn’t quite ready to forgive her just yet.
A part of her feels disappointed with herself because she can’t share in Ryusei’s excitement. He has so much to say about every dish that arrives at the table, and each bite seems to delight him as much as the last, if not more.
Strangely enough, watching him enjoy himself is also its own satisfaction. There is something comforting about the way he experiences happiness without restraint; whether it is a roller coaster launching into the sky or an especially good piece of grilled meat, Ryusei greets every little joy with his whole heart and never worries whether he looks silly doing it.
She’s so absorbed watching him enjoy his food that she doesn’t realize he is picking up another piece of beef for her until he extends the chopsticks to her mouth. “...Huh?” She blinks at him.
“You haven’t eaten anything,” he says.
“I’m okay.”
“I know, but just one bite.” He holds the chopsticks there expectantly.
Despite her worries about throwing up again, she takes him up on his offer and brings the slice of meat in her mouth. After all, how can she ever say no to him?
“Well?” he asks.
“It’s really good, Ryu-chan.”
“I told you.” His grin returns in full force, absurdly pleased with himself over something as simple as getting her to eat. Food, after all, has a way of becoming better when shared with someone you love being around.
Upon finishing their meal, they step out of the restaurant with their stomachs comfortably full—even Yukio, who’d accepted five of Ryusei’s offers to share a slice. Their feet are sore from a full day of walking, but if their leisurely stroll now is any indication, it seems that neither of them are in any hurry for the night to end.
They fall into a slow pace as they walk home, with Yukio finding herself stealing glances at Ryusei every few seconds, admiring the way his hair catches the moonlight in its strands, the way his hands swing at his sides as he puts one foot before the other.
Her gaze drifts lower; his hand is close enough to hers that if she stretches her fingers a little she can just reach it—stop. What if he would think she’s weird for trying to hold hands? They’d done far more passionate things before, but perhaps she should wait until the second date.
Still, couples hold hands all the time, don’t they? They’re not exactly couples, but this is supposed to be a date.
She’s barely finished turning over the thought when she feels something warm brush against the back of her hand, and her heart skips a beat. Ryusei—damn him—doesn’t give her the chance to process what’s happening as he slips his fingers between hers, slotting naturally into place like that’s where it has always belonged.
Needless to say, Yukio nearly trips on her own two feet before she catches herself, legs weakened with surprise as the warmth of his hand spreads through hers, impossibly gentle and impossibly real.
She stares at their intertwined hands, and every instinct inside her tells her to memorize the feeling, the shape of it. He’d held her hand in bed before, but this is an entirely different thing altogether. She wonders silently if this is what people meant when they say there is no greater joy than one that makes your knees feel weak.
“You know,” Ryusei begins after a long while of silence, glancing down at where they are joined before looking ahead again, “I really did have fun today, freckles. And I'm not just saying this because I had the time of my life with the rides.” He winks. “This date thing really isn’t so bad after all! I might actually consider saying yes to another one.”
The sudden burst of strength that compels her to squeeze his hand tightly surprises her, but she’s too overjoyed to care if it hurts. “Really?!” she shrieks, beaming up at him. “Thank you, Ryu-chan! You have no idea how happy you just made me!”
“Eh?” he teases. “That’s all it takes to make you this happy?”
“What do you mean?” She pouts. “Of course I’d be ridiculously happy if Ryu-chan tells me he wants to go on another date! Why do you say it like it’s not a big deal.” At this, Ryusei only laughs.
Finally, they arrive at the fork in the road where they have to part ways—Ryusei’s home being along one street and Yukio’s in the other. He lets go of her hand, upon which a wave of sadness surges in her, though she tries to tamp it down.
“Good night, Ryu-chan!” she says, unable to keep the regret in her voice. Oh, why can’t time just stop now? Things are perfect as they are; if only she had possessed even the smallest power over time, she would have stilled its hands then and there. There will be no tomorrow waiting for them, only this endless stretch of night, the sound of his gentle laughter, and the solid feel of his hand in hers.
“Good night, Yukio-chan!” he says with a grin. He’s the first to turn away, hands in his pockets as he starts the solitary journey home.
Yukio stares at his retreating figure, feeling warm despite the cool evening air. She looks down at her hand, which still tingles from the experience of being held by him, and when she looks back up at his receding silhouette, she’s overcome with the urge to scream his name. “SHIDOU RYUSEI!”
Surprised, he turns around. Any other person would have told her to tone it down, that she should be considerate to the households that are already asleep, but it’s Ryusei, so he doesn’t.
Swallowing thickly, she points at him, though there has never been any flicker of doubt whom her words are meant for. “I will leave my mark onto this world!” she vows, eyes shining with conviction. “Onto your world!”
“Oho~” he drawls, intrigued, a slow, toothy smile spreading across his face.
And this, here, is Yukio’s final act of devotion tonight: “YOU WILL BECOME MY PROOF OF LIFE!”
His laughter rings out into the quiet street. A few passersby glance their way, startled by both their outbursts, but neither of them notice, too focused on each other’s presence for anything else to matter.
“That’s bold!” he calls after her, grin so wide it almost splits his face. “Then show me what you’ve got, freckles!”
Yukio laughs, too, unable to contain the ridiculous, bubbling ecstasy that fills the endless well within her that bears Ryusei’s face. “Hell yeah, I will!”
For so long, this promise is one that she has carried quietly inside her, nursing it like a tiny ember against her heart. The thought of saying it out loud, much more in front of her muse himself, had seemed terrifying, once. Instead, with this at last out of the way, it feels like finally letting the sunshine in after a long while of keeping it out, of shutting doors and barring windows to keep it contained. And so, the knot that sits stubbornly in her chest unravels and is carried away by the evening breeze until there is nothing left in her but a lightness so all-consuming she thinks she might float away as well if she’s not careful.
“Goodbye!” she calls, spinning on her heel and taking off before he can answer. She runs laughing into the night, foot falling hard on the pavement.
Ryusei stands there and watches her go, and it is only when the final echo of her hurried pace fades into silence does he let out a quiet huff, shaking his head. Yukio’s always been endearing to him—it’s impossible not to, when she is so adamant at catching his attention. But tonight, the warmth that settles in his chest is brand new. He doesn’t have a name for it—not yet—all he knows is that he’s eager to see where it will lead him.
Honestly… what a ridiculous girl. He shakes his head, still smiling, and slips his hand back into his pockets as he resumes his walk home. “Bring it on…” he murmurs into the empty street. If that loud, hopelessly earnest, paint-stained girl truly intended to carve herself into his world… then perhaps she’d already begun, and he just hadn’t realized until now.
Meanwhile, Yukio tears through the apartment building and into her unit, a gust of wind that lifts everything she brushes past into the air and settles them back down just as they once were, if only a little out of place.
Her bedroom door opens and closes behind her with a loud bang. Not even bothering to turn on the lights, she launches herself face-first onto her bed, burying her burning cheeks into the nearest pillow before letting out a muffled, utterly undignified squeal, legs kicking wildly against the mattress.
She thinks of his hand in hers and clutches the pillow tighter. It’s a vivid memory, as if he had only just let go. Unable to keep still, she rolls onto her back and stares up at the ceiling, cheeks sore from smiling. Then she throws an arm dramatically toward the heavens, like catching a star with her bare hand.
“Just you wait, Ryu-chan!” she declares. “I’ll become someone you’ll never, ever forget.”