The arcade was chaos. Bells, lights, neon glow flashing in every direction. Children squealing, machines ringing, plastic tokens clattering like rain on tal. It was nostalgia in its rawest form, the kind of place that slled faintly of oil, popcorn, and the desperation of teenagers who just lost their allowance.
Keiko, of course, was instantly drawn in.
She stood in front of one of the machines, staring at it like it was so kind of alien technology. “Wanna try that one?” I asked, sidling up beside her.
She jumped. “Oh—you scared .” Then, eyes back on the screen, she tilted her head. “How do you even play this thing?”
I smirked, puffing my chest out like a pro. “Hmph. Just watch. I’ve got this.”
Spoiler: I did not, in fact, “have this.”
Within thirty seconds, I was being annihilated by neon monsters with glowing eyes. My character exploded in pixels, and the screen blinked GA OVER before I even knew what was happening.
Keiko blinked at . “...What are you even doing?”
I scratched my nose, pretending I’d planned it. “I was… calibrating the machine. Yeah. Making sure it was working right.”
Her lips curled into a smile she was clearly trying to hold back. “Uh-huh. Sure, Mr. Nose.”
“Don’t—” I pointed at her, narrowing my eyes. “Don’t call that here. This is a place of warriors.”
She ignored entirely. “My turn!”
And just like that, Keiko was at the controls, fingers flying like she’d been training her whole life for this. Her character zipped across the screen, dodging bullets, leaping platforms. She didn’t win—but she got way further than .
When the GA OVER finally blinked for her, she turned to with a grin that could lt snow. “See? Better than Mr. Nose.”
I dramatically clutched my chest. “Cruel. Cruel betrayal. In front of all these witnesses too.”
She was laughing so hard she nearly doubled over. “You’re hopeless!”
Hopeless? Maybe. But hopelessly happy watching her laugh.
We bounced from machine to machine—racing gas, crane gas, whack-a-mole. At one point Keiko tried the punching bag machine and sohow hit harder than , which she would not stop bragging about.
“Guess who’s stronger now?” she teased, flexing her arm dramatically.
“, emotionally,” I muttered, sulking as I rubbed my sore hand.
She kept teasing with the nose thing too—every little mistake was now “Mr. Nose’s fault.” I finally cracked.
“Okay, was it really that funny?” I asked when we sat down for a breather.
She blinked. “What?”
“The nose thing. You’ve been laughing nonstop since then.”
Her smile softened. She tucked so hair behind her ear. “Yes. It’s been a long ti since I laughed that much.”
That hit right in the chest. I couldn’t even be embarrassed anymore. I smiled back. “Then… I guess it’s worth being embarrassed for.”
Her eyes widened slightly, a faint blush blooming on her cheeks. She slapped my arm lightly. “Stop acting cool. You’re not in middle school.”
“Why not? Of course I want to look cool in front of the girl I love.”
Now she was blushing for real. Her mouth opened, then closed, clearly struggling to co up with an excuse or a deflection. Her cheeks were practically glowing.
I smirked. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”
She puffed her cheeks like a kid. “Fine, fine. I lost, okay?”
I laughed, holding her hand. “Good. Just be honest with .”
She mumbled sothing I couldn’t quite catch, but her grip on my hand tightened. That was enough.
---
After the arcade, we walked through the snow-dusted streets until we reached a quiet park. The trees were bare, their branches painted white, and the ground crunched beneath our boots.
We sat on a bench, letting the cool silence wrap around us. The sound of kids in the distance, the occasional bark of a dog, the hiss of cold air in our lungs.
“Wait here,” I said, standing up.
She tilted her head, curious. “Huh?”
I jogged to a nearby vending machine and returned with two steaming cans of hot cocoa. “Here,” I said, handing her one.
Her face lit up. “Thanks.”
We sat there together, sipping the warmth. For a mont, everything was simple.
“It’s nice,” I said quietly, “just sitting here like this. No rush, no pressure. Just… us.”
“Yeah,” Keiko agreed softly. “It’s been a while since I felt this… refreshed.”
I looked at her—and then I lost it.
I burst out laughing so hard I nearly spilled my cocoa.
She blinked, flustered. “Eh?! What? What is it? Did I say sothing weird?”
I shook my head, wiping my eyes. “N-no, no. It’s just—” I reached out and gently wiped at the corner of her mouth with my thumb. “You had cocoa all over your lips.”
Her entire face went crimson. “T-thanks…” she mumbled, ducking her head.
I chuckled, warmth bubbling in my chest that had nothing to do with the drink.
Monts like this—slow, simple, ordinary—they were what I wanted to hold on to. When every other day felt like a battle, this was the kind of peace that reminded why I kept fighting.
---
Evening began to fall, the park emptying out as the cold deepened.
I stood, about to toss our empty cans into the trash bin, then turned back toward Keiko, ready to tell her we should head ho.
But she wasn’t looking at .
Her eyes were wide. Her lips parted. Her hands clutched the edge of the bench like she’d seen a ghost.
“Ryusei…” she whispered.
I frowned. “What’s wrong?”
And then I followed her gaze.
The can slipped from my hand, clattering to the ground.
Because standing there, at the far end of the park walkway—was .
. Ryusei.
My real body.
The world slowed, every sound muffled except the pounding of my heartbeat.
Keiko rose to her feet, trembling, unable to look away.
And I… I couldn’t breathe.
Why was he here? How was he here?
And more importantly—what did it an that I was staring into my own eyes?
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