The sushi shop was cozy, warm, and smelled of fresh fish and vinegar. Plates of perfectly crafted sushi were arranged like edible art on the counter before Lily and Kenjiro. It was the kind of atmosphere that made you want to linger.
Unfortunately, so did the owner.
"And then," the old man began, leaning his elbows on the counter as he spoke, "during the winter of '44, we had no rice. None at all. Just barley and millet. Let me tell you, sushi with barley? Unimaginable!"
Kenjiro nodded politely, a forced grin plastered across his face as he picked up a piece of salmon nigiri. "Barley, huh? That's… rough."
"Oh, rough doesn't even begin to describe it," the old man continued, his raspy voice carrying through the shop like a history documentary nobody asked for. "We had to ration everything! You kids today—spoiled! Spoiled, I say!"
Lily glanced sideways at her father, her chopsticks hesitating mid-air. His expression was pure agony masked with politeness, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth giving him away. She stifled a laugh, her lips pressing together as she resumed eating.
"Oh, and don't get me started on the fish situation back then!" The old man slapped the counter for emphasis, making Lily jump slightly. "It was a miracle if we got anything fresher than dried sardines! None of this fatty tuna nonsense you're eating now."
Kenjiro let out a strained chuckle. "Uh-huh. Truly a miracle. Speaking of miracles, this tuna is fantastic, by the way."
The old man either didn't hear him or didn't care. "Fatty tuna? In my day? Forget it! You'd be lucky if you even smelled tuna during the war! And even then, it wasn't real tuna—it was catfish dressed up as tuna!" He let out a hearty laugh, clearly amused by his own story.
Lily caught her father's eye and raised an eyebrow. He gave her a look that said, Just smile and nod, kid. Smile and nod. She barely suppressed another laugh, her fingers gripping her chopsticks tightly.
"And another thing!" The old man leaned even closer, his face inches from Kenjiro's plate. "Back then, if we wanted sushi, we had to earn it. You kids? You just walk in and—bam! Sushi served on a platter. Back in my day, we had to fish for hours—hours!—just for a single bite."
Kenjiro finally dropped the facade, his head dipping slightly as he muttered, "Why do I feel like I'm losing the sushi I paid for just listening to this?"
Lily couldn't hold it in anymore. A soft giggle escaped her lips, earning her a sharp glance from the old man.
"Oh, think it's funny, do you, little miss?" he said, narrowing his eyes at her. "Do you know how lucky you are to have this? This tuna here? This sushi? Luxury! Absolute luxury! You should be thanking me for every bite!"
Kenjiro raised his hands defensively. "We're very thankful! Right, Lily?" He turned to her, his eyes pleading for backup.
"Yes! Very thankful!" she said quickly, nodding as she bit into her sushi to hide her laughter.
The old man huffed but finally leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest with a satisfied nod. "Good. Kids these days need to understand the value of what they have. No respect for history anymore."
As he wandered off to attend to another customer, Lily let out a quiet sigh of relief, lowering her chopsticks. She and her father exchanged a look—wide eyes and raised brows, a shared moment of Are we serious right now?
Kenjiro shook his head, leaning in closer. "If he starts talking about the post-war reconstruction era, we're leaving."
Lily snorted, barely managing to keep her laughter in check. "What if he tells us we're eating fish that survived the war?"
Kenjiro grinned, popping a piece of eel into his mouth. "Then I'm demanding a discount."
They laughed softly, the warmth of the sushi shop returning as the old man's voice faded into the background.
"Well," Lily said, finishing the last piece on her plate, "at least the sushi really is good."
Kenjiro nodded, his grin softening. "Good enough to endure a history lecture, I guess."
And with that, they left the shop, their bellies full and their minds burdened with unsolicited knowledge of wartime sushi struggles.
The night air was cool and crisp, a refreshing contrast to the lingering warmth of the day. Lily and Kenjiro strolled down the quiet streets of Seonghwa, their steps unhurried as the glow of streetlights cast soft halos on the pavement.
"Man," Kenjiro began, stretching his arms above his head, "that was good sushi. Worth every yen, even if I had to hear about the Great Tuna Shortage of '44."
Lily stifled a laugh, clutching her hands behind her back. "It wasn't that bad."
"Not bad?" Kenjiro gave her a mock look of betrayal. "The man practically narrated his entire life story. I was expecting him to hand me a history textbook with my bill!"
Lily's giggle slipped out before she could stop it, and she shook her head. "At least you learned something."
Kenjiro huffed, sliding his hands into his pockets. "I learned that I'm never asking for a second round of sushi there. No offense to the food, though. That was some top-tier stuff."
The two continued in comfortable silence for a moment, the rhythm of their steps aligning.
Lily's gaze drifted upward, taking in the smattering of stars visible between the rooftops. The week had been a whirlwind—so much had happened in just a few days. From navigating the intimidating halls of Shinsei High to forming an unexpected bond with Koji, she hadn't had much time to process it all.
It felt… manageable, though. Like things might actually be okay here.
Her dad's voice broke through her thoughts. "You've been quiet. Thinking about school?"
"Yeah," she admitted, her tone soft but light. "I guess I'm just surprised at how fast this week went by. I was so nervous on Monday, but now…"
"You survived?" Kenjiro teased, nudging her lightly with his elbow.
She smiled faintly, nodding. "Yeah. I survived."
"Well, I'd say that's a cause for celebration," he said, grinning. "Dinner tonight was to make up for that other time, but maybe we'll make this a tradition. How about sushi Saturdays? I'll even let you pick the place next time."
Lily glanced at him, her heart warming at the gesture. "I like that," she said softly.
Kenjiro flashed her a grin, his energy as bright as ever despite the late hour. "Good. But fair warning—I'm not listening to another war story if we go back there."
This time, her laughter bubbled out freely, echoing lightly down the street.
As they turned a corner, Lily suddenly froze mid-step, her eyes widening.
"Oh no," she said, her voice filled with alarm.
Kenjiro stopped, looking at her with raised brows. "What? What's wrong?"
She clutched her sides, her expression equal parts guilty and exasperated. "I left my bag at the restaurant."
Kenjiro blinked, his shoulders sagging with an exaggerated sigh. "Of course you did."
"I'm so sorry!" Lily said quickly, already stepping backward. "I'll go get it. It'll only take a second, I promise!"
Her dad waved her off, smirking. "Go ahead, I'll wait here. But if you're not back in five minutes, I'm eating all the leftover chocolate cake at home. Fair warning."
Lily gave him a playful glare. "You wouldn't dare."
"Try me," Kenjiro shot back, grinning.
She shook her head, her blonde hair catching the streetlight as she turned on her heel. "I'll be quick!" she called over her shoulder, her footsteps light as she made her way back toward the little sushi shop.
As she rounded the corner, the sound of her dad's faint humming faded behind her. The street was quiet now, save for the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze and the soft click of her shoes on the pavement.
(´.＿.｀)
The faint jingle of the doorbell echoed as Lily stepped back into the small sushi shop, the warm scent of vinegar and fish immediately hitting her senses. She scanned the room quickly, her gaze landing on the counter where her bag sat perched on a stool. Relief washed over her—but then it evaporated just as quickly.
Because sitting next to her bag, as if the universe was playing some kind of cruel joke, was him.
Arata Takashiro.
Even leaning casually against the counter, his presence seemed to command the entire room. His posture was relaxed, his broad shoulders angled toward the counter as he sipped on a cup of tea. The dim lighting of the shop cast a soft glow on his sharp features—those cold, piercing eyes that seemed to see right through people, the defined jawline, the perfectly styled reddish-brown hair that somehow looked effortless.
And then there was Rika Sugimoto.
She was perched on the stool beside him, her posture almost too perfect as she leaned toward him, her glossy black hair cascading over one shoulder like it had been styled specifically for this moment. Her fingers toyed with the edge of her cup, her expression nothing short of smitten.
"Oh, Arata," Rika purred, her voice dripping with sweetness. "You're so quiet tonight. You've barely said a word."
Arata's response was subtle—a faint, almost imperceptible smirk as he swirled the tea in his cup.
"Nothing to say," he murmured, his tone low, calm, and maddeningly indifferent.
Rika giggled, leaning closer as if drawn to him by some invisible force. "You're always so mysterious. It's kind of unfair, you know."
Lily froze, her heart lurching in her chest as she took in the scene. For a moment, she considered turning right back around and pretending she'd never walked in. But then her eyes flicked back to her bag, sitting innocently on the stool right beside them.
She bit her lip, her mind racing. Just grab it and go. Don't make it a thing. He probably won't even notice you.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, her footsteps muffled against the tatami flooring.
As she approached the counter, she kept her gaze locked on her bag, willing herself not to look at them. Her fingers wrapped around the strap, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she might actually get out of there unnoticed.
But fate wasn't that kind.
"Well, well," came Rika's voice, sharp and honeyed, cutting through the soft hum of the shop. "If it isn't Little Miss New Girl."
Lily froze, her hand tightening around the bag's strap. Slowly, she straightened up, forcing herself to meet Rika's gaze.
"Oh," she said, her voice steady despite the rapid thudding of her heart. "Hi."
Rika's lips curled into a smirk as she tilted her head. "What are you doing here? Following us?"
Lily blinked, caught off guard. "What? No, I—"
"Relax," Rika interrupted, waving her hand dismissively. "I'm just kidding."
But the sharp edge to her tone suggested otherwise.
It was then that Arata finally moved. He leaned back slightly, turning his head just enough to glance at Lily. His dark eyes met hers briefly, and her breath caught in her throat.
He didn't say anything. Didn't offer even the smallest greeting. Just a faint flicker of recognition in his gaze before he turned back to his tea as if she weren't even worth the effort.
The old man behind the counter bustled forward, his voice breaking the tension. "Ah, back for your bag, eh?" he said, nodding toward Lily.
She managed a small smile, bowing politely. "Yes, thank you. I'm so sorry for forgetting it."
"No harm done," he said, waving her off. "Just be more careful next time."
"Of course," she said softly, clutching the bag to her chest.
Rika, however, wasn't done. She leaned back in her stool, her smirk widening as she looked Lily up and down. "You know, this place is kind of special to us. Are you sure you didn't come here just to… spy?"
Lily blinked, confusion and irritation bubbling beneath the surface. "Spy? On what?"
Rika shrugged, her expression smug. "Who knows? Maybe you were curious about something—or someone." Her gaze flicked meaningfully toward Arata.
Lily's cheeks flushed. "That's not why I'm here," she said firmly.
"Hmm," Rika hummed, clearly unconvinced.
Arata finally set his cup down with a soft clink, the sound somehow commanding the entire room's attention. He turned his head slightly, his cold gaze flickering between Lily and Rika.
"That's enough," he said quietly, his tone as sharp as a blade.
Rika blinked, startled by the sudden interruption. "But I was just—"
"I said, that's enough," Arata repeated, his voice cutting her off.
Rika huffed, crossing her arms but staying silent, though the pout on her face made her displeasure obvious.
Lily glanced at Arata, her chest tightening as his gaze briefly met hers again. This time, there was something else there—something unreadable, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle.
But just as quickly, he looked away, turning his attention back to his tea.
"Go" he said simply, his tone dismissive, though it wasn't clear if he was addressing Rika or Lily.
Lily didn't wait to find out. Hugging her bag tightly, she gave the old man a quick bow. "Thank you again," she said before turning and walking briskly toward the door.
"Tsk, pathetic." Arata murmured, he made sure to be heard by the blonde. Rika nodded, as always, like his words were melted gold, still watching the door where Lily just got out.
The weight of their stares followed her all the way out.