Amara
We are currently traveling to Japan for the honeymoon that Basil's mother insisted on booking. It was a fixed package that includes hotel accommodations, free breakfast, and guided tours all neatly tied together. The idea of calling it a "honeymoon" feels weird, almost out of place, but I must confess that it has its perks despite my initial discomfort. After all the chaos and draining situations I went through, the thought of getting out of the country for a while might really help me refresh my mind.
I didn't even realize I had fallen asleep until the pilot's voice broke through my dreams.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Tokyo Narita Airport. The local time is nine-fifty AM, and the temperature is eighteen degrees celsius. Please remain seated until the seatbelt sign is turned off. On behalf of the crew, we thank you for choosing to fly with us. Have a wonderful stay."
I parted my eyelids lazily and blinked twice, in an attempt to remove the fog of sleep. I stretched my foot, but I paused when I felt something heavy weighing down my head. My gaze flew upward, and that's when I figured out that Basil's head was resting against mine, his regular breathing delicately caressing my hair. While my head had landed on his shoulder. My heart raced a beat as my drowsy brain patched together what had happened. Without a warning, I drew away.
Basil sat up, his confused eyes flickering open. He rubbed his neck and murmured, "What happened?"
I quickly brushed my hair back, "We've already landed," I replied with heat on my cheeks.
Basil yawned. Started to looked around, observing the rush activity of the passengers as they retrieve their things back from the overhead bins. His gaze suddenly went back to mine, while I tried to avoid his eyes. A mischievous smile came over his face.
"You seemed pretty comfortable there," Basil teased as he rise from his seat to take our carry-ons out from the compartment above us.
I threw him a piercing gaze and unbuckled my seatbelt. "Don't flatter yourself. You're not exactly a cozy pillow."
"If you say so." He chuckled.
I rolled my eyes, picked up my hand bag, and went down the aisle looking straight at the end of the aircraft. I walked off of the plane leaving him behind as the heels of my boots thumped on the ground.
The noise of announcements over the speaker system and the conversation of individuals filled the terminal. The tension between us was evident as we silently made our way to the baggage claim. As suitcases started to slide onto the moving platform, I waited at the carousel with my arms folded and my fingers tapping my elbow. When my suitcase eventually showed up, I used a little more force than what was necessary to lift it. I became even more upset when Basil calmly retrieved his luggage.
The eighteen degree air welcomed us as we stepped outside the airport. The sun was bright but the warmth wasn't there. I immediately embraced my arms since it was cold, but I forced myself to hide my discomfort as I looked around the busy airport. Meanwhile, Basil walked beside me, with his usual boring expression, while the city ahead seemed to buzz with life.
The bus that would take us to the hotel stopped in front of us. We climbed aboard and I took the window seat. Basil sat next to me unbothered by the bag that I purposely positioned in between us. His silence was strong, while I'm still affected from what had happened earlier. The bus ran through the streets, the sunlight bounced off the glass as we began to move.
The load of all that was unsaid weighed heavily in the air as neither of us spoke. Without uttering a word, we got off the bus when it suddenly pulled up in front of the Four Seasons Hotel, a majestic structure with polished floor and exquisite lighting. Our baggage followed us as we got closer to the entrance.
To our surprise, there was only one bed in the room. Suddenly, the comfortable, well-organized room felt much smaller as we stood still, staring at the single bed that dominated the space.
I let out a quick and dry laugh, "Seriously?" I asked, turning to Basil.
Basil pinched the bridge of his nose, "Trust me, this wasn't my idea."
I crossed my arms and flashed a teasing smile. "Relax, Basil. I might start thinking it was your intention, if you defend yourself any harder."
"If it were up to me, there would be two beds, and maybe even a wall in between."
"Oh? Afraid you won't be able to control yourself, Mr. Hawthrone?" I smirked, stepping towards the bed.
The once-quiet room now echoed with Basil's sarcastic laugh, "The only thing I'm worried about is your snoring keeping me awake all night."
"If anyone's snoring, it'll be you," I shot back with a smirk. "I wouldn't be surprised if you scare off the entire floor."
Basil raised an eyebrow, "Alright, Miss Perfect, you won." He said, lifting both of his hands up to surrender. "Clearly, jetlag hasn't slowed down your brattiness."
He crossed the room toward the door, pausing just enough to glance back at me with a grin. "We'll settle who gets the bed and who's sent to the couch later. For now, let's get some breakfast. I need energy before I can handle... this."
I raised an eyebrow, smirking as I followed him. "You mean before dealing with me?"
"Let's just say food makes everything easier."
Basil and I headed to the restaurant on the ground floor of the hotel, where we treat ourselves with a variety of traditional Japanese breakfast dishes—steamed rice topped with fermented soybeans, fragrant miso soup, perfectly grilled fish, crisp dried seaweed, and warm, earthy green tea. The tastes blended well together, creating a wonderful feeling for the day.
After that, we went outside to explore the busy Shibuya Crossing, one of Japan's most famous landmarks. Every two minutes, waves of people rushed forward in a programmed chaos that was somehow captivating. I couldn't take my eyes away from the skyscrapers and the diversity of people passing by. I was instantly pulled out of my daydream by Basil's secure grasp on my palm.
"The streets here will swallow you whole if you're not careful," he said, his tone serious but his touch was gentle. "Stay close to me."
We rode from Shibuya Station to Tokyo Tower, dealing with the maze-like Tokyo train system. The refined building, a contemporary wonder that deserved praise, spiked against the sky. We took pictures and went for a relaxing stroll about the neighborhood, allowing the time to pass.
We then bought tickets to a different train from Daimon Station to Asakusa, which is where the famous Sensoji Temple is located. The temple's magnificence was evident with its beautiful sculptures and red colored gates that whispered tales of a previous era. We walked around the temple grounds while renting kimonos, whose colorful designs gave our day a hint of tradition.
As I stopped to admire the breathtaking building, Basil's hand crept into mine, his fingers intertwining with a gentle certainty.
"Come, I asked someone to take our picture," he said casually, his eyes softly meeting mine with a warmth.
A polite Japanese man held up our camera and urged for us to pose as we stood in front of the temple. As we smiled, Basil supported me by holding my hand a little tighter.
The man's eyes wrinkled with friendliness as he returned the camera after a few captures. He genuinely said, "You two look good together. I wish you a happy married life."
I felt my cheeks burning from the awkwardness of the words that the man sent. I looked down quickly, not sure what to react. Meanwhile, Basil just stood calmly next to me, with a kind smile curving on his lips.
There was a hint of humor and appreciation in his deep voice. "Arigatou gozaimasu. I'll do my best to make sure she doesn't regret it."
I bowed to the man, smiling shyly despite the flush growing up my cheeks. "Doumo arigatou gozaimasu for the photo. That was very kind of you."
While we walked away, I glanced down at our intertwined hands, then up at Basil, his expression still unreadable. A range of feelings rolling inside of me—confusion, curiosity, and something else I couldn't quite name. I questioned for the first time if he really meant what he said or if it was all part of the front we were supposed to portray. His presence was both reassuring and frustratingly mysterious, the thought remained, unsaid.
Basil looked over me with his usual emotion. He joked, his tone low enough for me to hear, "Why the sudden silence? Didn't expect me to play along?"
I threw him a black look, but the slight flush on my cheeks betrayed me. "You're unbearable."
"And yet, here we are," he commented, his grin widening as his eyes wrinkled with laughter. Then his pitch changed, as though he could sense my annoyance. "Are you hungry?"
I nodded after hesitating. "Yes."
"Good," he replied, continuing to hold my hand as he actively drew me forward. "Let's try some street food. Come on."
From Asakusa, we traveled by our foot fourteen minutes to the crowded Nakamise-Dori Street, which was alive with both locals and visitors. The busy market was lined with shops selling a variety of souvenirs and snacks.
We visited the stores, purchasing carefully wrapped rice crackers and crisp arare soybean cakes to take home. Brightly colored postcards with traditional woodblock print layouts attracted my interest, while Basil added wooden chopsticks to our increasing collection of items.
Once the shopping bags were full, the actual thrill began—eating Japanese street foods. We were unable to avoid the tempting smell of sizzling takoyaki as we ate the golden balls stuffed with octopus, their smooth contents melting in our tongues. Soft, chewy kibi dango skewers covered with sweet soy powder were served next, followed by savory yakisoba—noodles tangled with veggies and topped with pickled ginger.
I was drawn to mochi in pastel pink and green tints, and Basil immediately bought some, displaying his occasional smile as he observed me muching. We even sampled Toyofuku's aromatic curry bread, which had a crunchy outside and a spicy within that was hard to resist.
By the end of our adventure, I felt like my speed was slowing due to the weight of the meal and an overall feeling of peaceful satisfaction.
Basil gave me a quick look, and the corner of his mouth twitched. He mocked, "Don't tell me you're full already."
I patted my stomach and moaned. "Maybe. Or maybe I just can't keep up with your appetite."
As he rearranged the grocery bags in his hands, he laughed richly and lowly. "Guess you'll have to work if you're going to keep up as my wife," He teased.
"Oh, don't flatter yourself, Basil. Just because we're stuck in this arrangement doesn't mean I'm here to impress you." I replied.
He lifted an eyebrow, his smirk spreading. "Who said anything about impressing me? I'm just worried you'll slow me down."
I rolled my eyes, moving past him. "Don't worry, dear husband. If anyone's slowing us down, it'll be your ego, not me."
Sliding into step next to me, Basil laughed and said, "My ego? Please. It's what's keeping this whole trip interesting." He gave me an immediate glance, his smirk easing somewhat. "But if it makes you feel better, I'll carry your bags when you can't keep up."
I shook my head and mocked. "How generous of you, Mr. Hawthrone. Truly, a knight in shining armor."
"Exactly," he answered, his smile never going away as he spoke in a sarcastically serious tone. "Don't forget it, princess."
We came back to the hotel after our food experience on Nakamise-Dori Street, our tummies full and our hands heavy with shopping bags. We started unloading and arranging our belongings once we were in our room. Basil laid out the souvenirs on the desk with care, placing chopsticks, arare cookies, and rice crackers next to the postcards.
I glanced at Basil as I stuffed the leftovers in the little fridge and said, "You could've stopped me from buying plenty of food."
Basil leaned against the wall and shrugged, grinning. "Stopping you would've been impossible. Besides, I didn't hear you complaining while you were eating."
I rolled my eyes and concentrated on getting the rest of my stuff in order. The task had a strange sense of silent companionship—a rare period of serenity between us.
"Now," he said with a slight chuckle, "let's settle the important question—who gets the bed, and who's sentenced to the couch?"
Basil relaxed casually against the front edge of the desk, arms crossed, his eyes sharply focusing on me when we had done cleaning up.
I arched an eyebrow while faking concentration. With a playful yet firm tone, I proposed, "How about we play rock, paper, scissors? First to win gets the bed. Simple, fair, and painless."
A gleam of laughter sparked in Basil's eyes as his smile intensified. "Rock, paper, scissors? That's your grand solution?"
"Unless you're too afraid to lose," I shot back, crossing my arms.
With a quiet laugh, he stood up straight and took a step forward, his confidence overflowing. "Afraid? Not a chance. But don't go sulking when you lose, princess."
The room was instantly filled with an almost insane amount of tension for such a minor game, and the challenge stayed in the air as we faced off.
Our hands hung there, ready to hit. "Rock... paper... scissors!"
Both the first and second rounds finished in a tie, raising the risks with each draw. The third round made my heart race, and I knew I had lost the instant our hands touched.
With the accuracy of someone who battled to win, his paper blanketed my rock. Basil dropped his hand to his side and sang proudly, his smirk growing. "And that, my dear, is how you claim a bed."
I threw my head back in defeat and moaned. "This is unfair. You're too arrogant about this."
With a shrug, he turned to face the bed. "Confidence comes with victory, Amara. Enjoy your couch."
I let out a big sigh and dropped onto the couch, peering at him.
Basil glanced at me as he enjoy his success on the bed. "By the way," he said in a calm yet authoritative tone, "we're going to Joetsu Kokusai for skiing tomorrow, which marks the start of our tour."
I rose up and temporarily forgot about my couch-induced pout. "Skiing?"
"Yes," he leaned back against the headboard and continued. "The bus will pick us up in front of the hotel at seven AM sharp, so you'd better wake up early and be ready. Don't forget to prepare your things tonight. I won't tolerate any delays."
Despite rolling my eyes, I unwillingly nodded. I murmured, "Copy," already anxious about the alarm for the early hours of the morning.
Basil gave my tone a cunning smile, obviously amused. "Good. Don't say I didn't warn you if you're rushing at the last minute." I threw a pillow at him, but he easily caught it, and his laugh rang throughout the room.
I scowled at him and said, "I'll make sure to pull you into it if I'm in a hurry. Don't conclude you've escaped off the hook."
Still grinning, Basil arched an eyebrow and said, "Oh, I'm trembling at the thought."
"You should be," I retorted, snatching up another pillow and squeezing it against my chest. "Because you're carrying all my stuff if I'm late."
He laughed and hugged the pillow I threw before shutting off the bedroom lamp and facing the opposite direction. "Whatever helps you sleep tonight, princess," he replied. "Good night."
I found myself looking at his large frame from behind as I thought back to our previous experience, the realization settling on me. After all, Basil wasn't such a horrible company. He had made the journey tolerable, even fun at times, in spite of my early concerns.
However, as the idea go on, another one surfaced: he would likely be happier, carefree, and even more entertaining if Tatiana were present instead of me. I quickly shrugged off the thought, even though it hurt in ways I wasn't prepared to acknowledge. This was about staying alive in this arrangement, not about feelings. That's what I kept telling myself, anyway.