Winter had softened into early spring, and Tokyo began to pulse with new life. Cherry blossoms threatened to bloom, their delicate buds a promise of transformation hanging in the air. Sakura and Haruka were working on their joint art project—a collaboration that had become more than just a school assignment.
Their workspace was a small, intimate corner of the art school's studio. Sketches and photographs were spread across the table, creating a mosaic of their shared vision. Haruka's photographs captured moments of urban silence—the spaces between buildings, the quiet corners of Tokyo that most people overlooked. Sakura's drawings brought those moments to life, adding depth and emotion to the visual narrative.
"Here," Haruka said, spreading out a series of photographs. "What do you think?"
Sakura leaned closer, their shoulders almost touching. She could smell Haruka's perfume—something light, with hints of jasmine and green tea. Her proximity made Sakura's heart flutter in a way that was still new, still slightly terrifying.
They had been taking things slowly, as they'd promised each other. Stolen glances. Gentle touches. Conversations that stretched late into the evening. But there was an undercurrent of tension—a mutual understanding that something more was building between them.
"This one," Sakura said, pointing to a photograph of a narrow alleyway. Her finger brushed against Haruka's hand, sending a small electric shock through her body.
Haruka looked up, their faces suddenly close. Too close.
"May I?" Haruka whispered, her eyes flickering to Sakura's lips.
It was familiar—that same gesture of asking permission that had characterized their relationship from the beginning. Sakura nodded, a small movement that felt like surrendering to something beautiful and inevitable.
Haruka leaned in slowly, giving Sakura every opportunity to move away. But Sakura didn't want to move. She wanted this moment—this connection.
Their first kiss was soft. Tentative. A gentle pressing of lips that felt like a question and an answer all at once. Sakura's eyes fluttered closed. She could feel Haruka's breath, the slight tremor in her hands as they touched her face.
When they pulled apart, Sakura felt something shift inside her. A recognition. A homecoming.
"Was that okay?" Haruka asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Sakura nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "More than okay."
Outside, the first cherry blossoms began to open, painting the Tokyo sky in soft pink—a quiet celebration of new beginnings.
Their art project lay forgotten on the table. Some moments were more important than any assignment.