19- Just the Two of us

The city looked different from the back of a scooter. Miko clung to Reiji's waist, half-laughing, half-terrified, her voice carried away by the wind. He wasn't a reckless driver, but he definitely enjoyed making sharp turns just to hear her yell.

They'd agreed on a spontaneous date. No plans. No pressure. Just a day.

They ended up at a quiet seaside town a train ride away. Sand under their shoes, wind tousling their hair. The boardwalk smelled of grilled squid and saltwater. Miko pulled him toward a tiny stand selling handmade keychains. Reiji let her pick one out for him—an odd-looking cat holding a fish.

"It's ugly," he said.

"It's perfect," she countered.

They ate street food, watched a street guitarist play an old folk song, and took blurry photos with their phones. For once, there was no heaviness in their words. No secrets. No obligations.

That evening, they sat on the edge of a pier, legs dangling over the side, watching the sky melt into orange and rose.

"I don't remember the last time I had fun," Reiji said.

"Same," Miko murmured. "I kept thinking I wasn't allowed to."

He looked over at her. "Are you scared?"

"Of this?" She nodded. "A little. But not enough to walk away."

He reached out, gently brushing her knuckles with his fingers. "Then let's not walk away."

Her answer was a quiet smile.