Shizuka Miyamura and Daiki Miyamura walked out of the washroom, glancing at the young couple who had been sitting at the table, nibbling away at breakfast for over thirty minutes.
"You two have been eating long enough. Just how long does breakfast need to be?"
Finally, Shizuka couldn't hold back anymore. She waved her hand and shooed them away, clearly wanting some private time with her husband.
With those two around, she and Daiki couldn't be affectionate without embarrassment, even as an old married couple.
Akira and Shouko could only reluctantly move to another spot, but were quickly chased out of the living room by Miyamura Yui as well. Left with no choice, they returned to the second-floor bedroom.
Back upstairs, one of them was inspired to write while the other lounged on the bed, chatting with friends on her phone.
Not long after, Shizuka's voice called from downstairs:
"Akira, Shouko! Get ready—we're going to the shrine to pray!"
"Okay!"
Akira answered back, turning to repeat it for Shouko, who hadn't caught it clearly. Together, they went downstairs to wait while Shizuka finished changing in the master bedroom.
Meanwhile, Daiki Miyamura went next door to call Yaeko Nishimiya and the others.
Two cars, eight people. Because of traffic, it took more than thirty minutes to reach the famous local shrine. As soon as Akira got out of the car, he was stunned by the sea of people.
Compared to this, the small mountainside shrine they'd visited before was nothing. That shrine choosing to rest on such a money-making day was almost unbelievable.
For a moment, Akira felt like just staying in the car and letting the others go on ahead—but that was only a fleeting thought.
"Akira, you have to hold my hand tight, or we'll get separated in the crowd." Shouko's voice was firm as she gripped his hand tightly, almost threateningly.
"..."
He was a little speechless. How many times had he told her the exact same words back in kindergarten and elementary school? Now, the roles were reversed...
Still, he held her hand firmly, following close behind Daiki Miyamura. Behind them, Shizuka and Yaeko chatted as they complained about the crowd.
By the time it was their turn to pray, the group had been swallowed by the tide of visitors. Afterward, they made their way toward the next stops.
"How much longer until this is over..."
Yuzuru, who had been pushed into Akira's care by Shizuka, sighed softly, clearly bored after finishing the prayer.
"Hmm..." Akira thought back to previous years. "Next should be buying ema for writing New Year's wishes, picking up some omamori, and then drawing fortunes. That's it."
"..." Yuzuru fell silent, resigned to following along as Shouko gently pulled her along.
The first two parts finished quickly. When it came to the fortune slips, both Akira and Shouko drew "Great Luck," while the rest got "Luck."
Seeing the results, Akira didn't even need to think—there probably weren't any "bad fortunes" in that box. After all, no shrine would want to sour the New Year by handing out misfortune.
By the time they finished everything, it was already noon. The two families found a restaurant for lunch, and later that evening, dinner was the same as the day before.
Eating together was much livelier. Daiki, being an only child, had no relatives visiting, and Shizuka's side of the family lived too far away to come. Meanwhile, the hot spring ryokan was extremely busy at this time of year.
Guests usually visited between the second and third days, unless they were especially close family friends.
As dusk spread like ink across the sky, Shouko curled up under Akira's quilt, only her head poking out.
"Akira... is Grandma Miyamura going back tomorrow?" she asked quietly.
"Yes."
Akira paused his typing, hearing the reluctance in her voice. He smiled gently. "But we can always visit her. It's only ten minutes away by subway."
Shouko blinked, then her mood eased. That was true—it wasn't far at all.
"By the way, Akira... if you're staying home tomorrow and the day after, can I go out with Takagi-chan and the others?"
"Yeah. Just be careful."
With that, the room quieted. Only the soft tapping of keys and the occasional bursts of Shouko's laughter at something funny on her phone filled the space. Sometimes, if she found something especially amusing, she'd pop out of the quilt and show him.
The pine scent that had once seeped through the window cracks on the first night had, by the fifth night, faded into the stale odor of stagnant water.
"So tired... I underestimated how much energy girls have for shopping."
Fresh from the shower, towel-dried hair still damp, Akira collapsed onto his bed.
Thanks to his morning runs, he had the stamina to endure, unlike Nishikata, who had given up halfway. Akira thought it would just be an aquarium trip, but it turned into an all-day sightseeing marathon. They'd left before nine in the morning and hadn't returned until after eight at night.
Reaching for his phone, Akira unlocked it and opened LINE, clicking on the top chat.
I'm going to sleep now. Good night.
The message was quickly marked as read.
(Rabbit nodding.jpg)
Akira, I'll come wake you up tomorrow. Good night.
The notification ping woke him even though his eyes were already closed. Smiling faintly, he typed back a simple Okay before setting his phone to silent.
This time, he fell asleep instantly, no sheep-counting needed.
"Ring... ring...!"
"Ring... ring... ring...!"
Slap!
A fair-skinned hand silenced the alarm clock. Akira sat up, eyes half-shut, before slumping again.
"Get up, Akira! Get up, Akira!"
Shouko's sweet voice suddenly rang from his phone—his custom ringtone alarm. A flash of impatience stirred in his chest, but he shook it off, shut off the alarm, rubbed his eyes, and got up.
After dressing, he scanned his room carefully. The bedside table held countless intimate photos of him and Shouko, from kindergarten to junior high. The shelves displayed Art Club and track-and-field group photos, trophies, and certificates. His desktop computer sat neatly on the desk.
Satisfied nothing was forgotten, he closed the door and went downstairs, ready for his morning run.
"Akira, are you taking graduation photos today?" his mother asked curiously from the dining room.
"Yes. Why?"
Compared to two years ago, his voice had deepened slightly.
"Nothing. Just curious. Go ahead."
Akira slipped on his running shoes, opened the front door, glanced once at the neighbor's lit windows, and began his run.
The chill of early spring cut through the mist. Girls in navy blue uniforms crunched over the frozen ground, thermoses swinging at their sides. Steam from warm buns tinted golden by morning sunlight rose into the air.
It was the melody of spring mornings in Tokyo.
"Morning, Akira."
Fresh from the bath, towel in hand, Akira froze when Shouko suddenly appeared, snatched it, and tugged him toward the living room.
"I'll dry it for you."
Shizuka and Daiki, still at breakfast, were long used to such behavior and ignored the two entirely.
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"Careful, President," Akira warned with a helpless smile. "You'll slip if you rush like that."
Shouko slowed but threw him a sideways glance with those bright eyes.
In three years, she had grown tremendously—becoming the President of Art Club , earning respect from her juniors, and improving her painting skills beyond recognition. She could now recreate characters like Kaori Miyazono almost flawlessly.
With her mother's careful care, Shouko's beauty bloomed year after year, her charm often catching Akira off guard.
"All done. Go eat breakfast," she said, switching off the dryer and secretly inhaling the faint scent of his hair before handing back the towel.
"Thanks. Did you eat?"
"Mm-hmm."
Nodding, Akira headed to the dining room.
"What are your plans after graduation?" Daiki asked, setting aside his newspaper.
"Hmm..." Akira thought for a moment. "I failed my submission three years ago. I want to try again this spring break."
Daiki nodded. "That's fine too."
He had read Akira's novel Anohana: The Flower We Saw That Day and thought it showed real promise.
Shizuka, meanwhile, quietly let her husband take the lead in this decision.
After finishing breakfast, Akira glanced at the time, then left for school with Shouko.
Tokyo's early March streets were full of rhythm: office workers' leather shoes and students' loafers tapping against the ground, the faint perfume of working women blending with the sweet scent of fresh pineapple buns.
"President, good morning."
"Good morning."
"Nishimiya-senpai, good morning!"
"Good morning."
Akira walked beside Shouko, watching as juniors greeted her. One or two boys slipped into the crowd as well, but she only nodded politely.
"You're really popular. I counted eight or nine greetings already," Akira teased.
Shouko pouted, giving his arm a playful slap. "Half of them were staring at you. If you smiled more, you'd be even more popular with the girls."
Akira wisely said nothing. He knew too well what would happen if he teased her further—probably no lunchbox today.
In recent years, Shouko's cooking had improved so much that her bentos were something he didn't want to miss.
The two slipped into their classroom and sat down in the back row by the window, their usual spot.
"Miyamura-kun, could I trouble you to write in my yearbook?"
Almost immediately, a classmate came forward, smiling as she handed over a decorated graduation yearbook page.
"Sure. I'll give it back after class."
Taking it without hesitation, Akira noticed Shouko's gaze on him. He smiled sheepishly and passed her the page, their silent agreement from home playing out once again.
"Akira-kun is really popular," Shouko said, mimicking his earlier words with a sarcastic twist.
Akira smirked. "Whose vinegar jar spilled over? The smell's strong."
The result was five minutes of sulking before she finally scolded him again—this time with a yearbook in her hands.
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