Isn’t fate weird?
Just a year ago, I was celebrating my birthday by drinking myself stupid with Junpei in so sketchy izakaya, drowning in cheap beer and self-pity.
I rember staring at the ceiling of my tiny apartnt, feeling like absolute garbage — both physically from the booze and ntally because I was lying to everyone around . I was Ryuko then, hiding, afraid Keiko might catch on, feeling like a coward every ti I saw her face.
And now?
Now I was here… walking hand-in-hand with that sa woman on my birthday, going on a real date like an actual person. Who would’ve guessed.
As we left the station, Keiko led the way. She had this small smile on her face, the kind that made my heart do a little backflip.
The last ti she grabbed my hand like this was… oh.
Oh no.
Flashback.
Ferris wheel.
That night.
"Who are you, Ryuko?"
I literally felt my stomach drop.
Unconsciously, I pulled my hand away like I’d touched a hot stove.
Keiko blinked in surprise, turning back. “What’s wrong?”
I panicked. Quick, Ryusei, think.
I scratched my arm. “Ahh… itchy! Yep, really itchy right here, haha…”
I laughed like an idiot, hoping she’d buy it.
She raised a brow but didn’t push. Just shrugged and grabbed my hand again. “Co on.”
Guess I passed the test.
After a few minutes of walking through backstreets I barely recognized, we stopped in front of this old, dimly lit building. The red paper lantern swayed in the breeze, and the sound of clinking dishes ca from inside.
There it was: an izakaya.
For those not in the know — it’s basically a Japanese pub where salaryn gather to drink away their bad life choices. Usually small, cozy, and run by grumpy old n who act like they hate you but secretly love you.
I stared at it.
“An izakaya? You sure? You don’t even drink,” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Keiko just smirked. “It’s different from the usual ones. Co on.”
Different how?
Was the beer purple? Did they serve ghost beer?
But whatever — it was my birthday, and honestly, if she took to a fish market dumpster, I’d probably still follow her.
Inside, it looked… exactly like every old izakaya ever.
Tiny counter, faded posters, sll of oil and soy sauce hanging thick in the air. And behind the bar stood a grumpy-looking old man with a face like a pickled plum.
“Hi, master,” Keiko greeted him.
The old guy’s face lit up like a grumpy cat seeing its favorite human. “Oh, Keiko. Been a while, girl. So you still with that no-good bastard you told about?”
Wait. Huh?
Was that… ?
“Master, this is my husband I ntioned,” Keiko said, patting my shoulder.
Waitwaitwait. Hold up. Husband?!
Since when were we tossing around husband titles so casually?!
I nearly choked on my own spit.
The old man squinted at . “Ahh, so you’re the good-for-nothing, huh?”
Well, this was going well.
Keiko elbowed gently, a silent play along signal.
I cleared my throat. “Y-yeah… I’m her husband.”
“Master, don’t bully him,” Keiko chuckled.
The old man smirked and waved us toward the counter.
“Got a nu?” I asked, feeling awkward.
“Only one thing on it. Special ran,” he barked.
Seriously? What kind of place was this? “That’s it? You should broaden your nu, old man — no wonder no one’s here.”
His eyes narrowed.
As he turned and started walking toward the kitchen, the old man grumbled over his shoulder, “Young man, be grateful. Your wife reserved this whole place just for you. That’s why no one else is here.”
…Wait what.
I blinked at Keiko. “You reserved this place?”
She shrugged, like it was no big deal.
“This place is usually packed. Master doesn’t take reservations for anyone. But for … he did.”
“…And what if I wanted to go sowhere else?”
“Then I would’ve dropped the reservation,” she said calmly, sipping her water.
I stared at her. “Just how close are you with this guy?”
Keiko smiled, this soft kind of nostalgic smile I didn’t see often. “He helped out back then. When Rin was little. When we had nothing. Gave free food, let take leftovers ho. This was my first job when I started helping with the bills.”
And suddenly it hit .
I rembered those nights. Keiko coming ho with warm ran, splitting it three ways so we could all eat.
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“Here’s your ran,” the old man announced, slamming down two bowls.
The sll punched in the face in the best way. Thick pork broth, perfectly soft eggs, crispy seaweed — simple, classic, and perfect.
“Let’s eat,” we said together.
I took one sip of the soup and my soul left my body.
It was that good.
Keiko grinned at my expression. “Told you.”
I finished my bowl so fast I think I achieved a new record.
The old man smirked. “Well?”
“…It’s the best damn ran I’ve had.”
Keiko nodded, satisfied. “Still the best in Japan for .”
The old man let out a gruff laugh. “Silly girl, you’ve only ever been in Tokyo.”
Keiko chuckled along, raising a brow. “Hey, I’ve been to Osaka too, you know!”
The old man scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “Hah! That doesn’t make any difference.”
They both burst out laughing together, like old friends picking up an inside joke from years ago. It was one of those monts where you could tell there was real history between them — the kind of banter you only have with soone who's seen you at your worst and still stuck around.
Afterward, Keiko offered to help clean up, but he refused.
I offered then, thinking he’d reject too.
But he didn’t.
So here I was, on my birthday, washing dishes for free.
Happy birthday to .
From the kitchen, I could hear them chatting. It sounded serious, though I couldn’t make out the words.
When I finished, I stepped out.
“Done, old—”
Keiko cut a glare.
“Master.”
I cleared my throat. “Old— uh, Master. Done.”
He glared. I bowed. “Sorry.”
Keiko motioned for to sit beside her.
Then she dropped a bomb.
“Ryusei… Master’s retiring next year.”
“Oh… okay.”
“And… he wants to take over this place.”
My brain short-circuited.
“W-what?!”
She nodded with a small smile. “I told him about you that you had potential, and he actually agreed with .”
I turned to the old man. He wasn’t smiling.
I gulped. “?! How?!”
“You’ll learn. From ,” the old man grunted. “But rember — Keiko’s still the owner of this place. Don’t get cocky, kid.”
Keiko gave my back a reassuring pat. “You’ll think about it, won’t you?” she smiled. “And don’t worry, I’ll be with you. We’ll build our own restaurant together.”
It had always been my dream to have our own restaurant soday, so honestly… it wasn’t a bad idea at all. I choked a little on my drink, caught off guard by how real it sounded coming from her. “Y-yeah,” I managed, my voice a little shaky. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”
I an… it was insane. Completely unexpected. But sohow, it didn’t sound bad at all. I just needed a little ti to let it sink in and process it properly in my head.
After finishing up, we bowed politely and thanked the old man, then stepped out together to continue our night.
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