"Kichiro-san, how's this one?" she asked, spinning in a bright red dress, arms out like a runway star.
Haari, parked by the wall, hands jammed in his pockets, nodded stiffly. "Uh… looks great." His face burned—redder with every glance around. He was the only guy in the place, a lone island in a sea of dresses, hangers, and giggling shoppers. Eyes flicked his way—some curious, some amused—and he shrank, wishing the floor would swallow him.
Ashi emerged again, this time in a flowy green number. "And this?"
"Great," he mumbled, eyes darting to the exit. How long is this gonna take?
She swapped to a black dress, sleek and sharp. "This one?"
"Very great," he said, voice tight, shifting his weight. The clerk smirked from the counter; a lady nearby stifled a laugh. Haari's neck prickled—I'm a damn spectacle here.
Ashi paused, hands on hips, squinting at him. "Kichiro-san, you're blushing like crazy. What's wrong?"
He coughed, rubbing his neck, avoiding her gaze. "Nothing. Just… I'm the only guy in here. Feels weird."
She blinked, then grinned, wicked and bright. "Oh, come on—it's not that bad. You're my fashion judge! One more—how's this?" She twirled in a purple dress, lace fluttering.
"Great—really great," he forced out, voice cracking, eyes pleading for mercy. Get me outta here.
Ashi laughed, loud and free, oblivious to his torment. "You're hopeless at this, but fine—let's call it. I've had my fun."
Haari exhaled, relief flooding him, though his cheeks still glowed. "Good. Let's move—anywhere but here."
As they stepped out of the clothing store, Ashi's eyes snagged on a poster across the mall—bold colors, familiar faces. "What's that? Wait—it's my favorite movie!" she yelped, pointing, her voice pitching high with glee.
Haari followed her gaze, spotting the title splashed big. "Wanna watch it?" he asked, casual but curious.
"Yeah, can we?" Ashi turned to him, eyes wide, hopeful.
"Sure, if that's what you want," Haari said, shrugging, a faint smile tugging his lips.
They beelined for the ticket counter, Ashi practically skipping—until they saw the price. Her jaw dropped, all joy draining fast. "Hey!" she barked at the counter guy, a lanky kid with a bored stare. "This price is ridiculously too high I can watch ten movie in local theater with that much money "
The kid didn't flinch, voice flat. "So why're you here if you can't afford it? Go hit your ten movies—don't waste my time."
Ashi's face flared red, fury igniting. "What'd you just say? You can't talk to us like that, you little—"
Haari grabbed her from behind, arms hooking her shoulders, pulling her back. "Calm down, Nicawa-san—people are staring at us," he muttered, voice low, firm. Eyes swiveled their way—shoppers, kids, a guard—whispers rippling.
He dragged her off, her heels scuffing, and plopped her on a bench by the mall's centerpiece—a towering, twisty sculpture. "Sit. I'll be right back," he said, darting off.
Seconds later, he returned, two cold soda cans in hand, condensation dripping. "Here, drink this," he said, pressing one into her grip.
Ashi chugged it, the fizz cutting her edge. Haari watched, sipping his own. "Feeling better?"
"Yeah… thanks," she mumbled, staring at the floor, cheeks still warm. "Sorry for the scene—I lost it."
"No big deal," Haari said, leaning back. "I get why you're pissed. That guy was a jerk."
She sighed, crushing the can's edge. "I really wanted to see that movie, but the price? Ridiculous."
Haari paused, thinking, then nodded. "There's a way—if you're that desperate to watch it."
Her face snapped up, brightening. "Really? There is?"
"Yeah," he said, scratching his jaw. " If we combine our money we can buy on ticket with no problem "
Ashi's glow dimmed, brow furrowing. "But… that means only one of us gets in."
"So what?" Haari shrugged, unfazed " I'm not in movie stuff so you can go and watch your movie while I wait outside until then."
"But—" she started, voice catching.
"It's fine," he cut in, tone steady. " It's not like you can get a chance to come into theater every time I be fine , so go and enjoy the movie."
Ashi hesitated, eyes flicking between him and the poster, torn but softening. "You sure?"
"Positive," he said, nudging her up. "Go."
Haari pressed his share of the cash into Ashi's hand. "Now go__the ticket counter will be closing soon."
Ashi nodded, heading off, but her steps lacked the bounce from before, the poster's thrill dulled by their compromise. At the counter, she froze—across the theater, another booth glowed, a sign screaming 60% OFF FOR COUPLES. Her face ignited, a grin splitting wide. She bolted back to Haari, who lounged on the bench, flipping through a dog-eared magazine.
"Kichiro-san!" she yelled, breathless, skidding to a stop.
He glanced up, startled. "Huh? Nicawa-san, what're you doing back here?"
She snatched his hand, yanking him up. "Come on—hurry!"
"Huh?" Haari stumbled, magazine flapping to the floor as she dragged him across the mall.
"They're running an offer! Kichiro-san, I need to see that movie!"
Haari faltered, glancing at the sign. "But… it's a couple's deal."
"So what?" Ashi shot back, unfazed. "We'll say we're a couple—It's not like they know us"
"But—" Haari sputtered, cheeks tinting pink.
"Kichiro-san," she pressed, voice softening, eyes huge and pleading. "I really want this."
"We're not—" he tried, floundering.
"Please," she cut in, gripping his arm. "We're friends right—and friends can do anything for each other, right?"
"This is way past friendship," Haari muttered, rubbing his neck, voice tight.
"Please," Ashi begged, her grip tightening, her stare unwavering.
He sighed, defeated, the fight draining out. "Fine—let's just get it over with."
They raced to the discount counter, the clock ticking down. The ticket boy—a scrawny teen with a lazy slump—was already standing, folding his apron, the booth's light flickering off. Ashi lunged forward. "Hey—wait! We need tickets!"
He turned, bored. "Too late—movie's is about to start, we can't make any enetry now "
Ashi's glare could've melted steel, her voice a low growl. "Give. Us. The. Tickets."
"Sorry, ma'am, but—" the boy started, unfazed.
"We'll pay extra," Ashi snapped, cutting him off, leaning in close.
"Huh?" He blinked, caught off-guard.
" We pay you extra" she said, eyes glinting, daring him to say no. "so you can keep the money to youself, what left after we buy ticket ."
The boy didn't hesitate—two tickets slid across the counter, snatched up in a flash. Ashi spun to Haari. " Hehe."
Ashi practically bounced as they stepped out of the theater, the glow of the screen still in her eyes. "That was amazing! Watching it in a theater—it's a whole different vibe!"
Haari trailed her, a flicker of unease tugging at him. "Uh, Nicawa-san?"
She spun to him, head tilted, puzzled. "Hm?"
He hesitated, gaze dropping to their hands—still locked together, fingers entwined from their mad dash. "My hand."
Ashi's eyes widened, a flush creeping up her neck. "Oh—oh crap, sorry!" She yanked her hand free, laughing it off, cheeks pink. "Got so hyped about the movie, I forgot I was clinging to you!"
"It's fine," Haari said, aiming for cool, though his own face betrayed him with a faint red tinge, his voice softer than usual.
"So," Ashi chirped, bouncing back, "So, how was the movie? Did you like it?"
Haari thought, I didn't even know what the movie was about because you were holding my hand so tightly I couldn't focus on it "Uh… yeah, it was good," he managed, scratching his jaw, dodging her eager stare.
The city hummed around them, neon lights streaking the pavement, a buttery popcorn scent trailing from the theater. The streets had hushed—shops shuttering, crowds thinning, the day's chaos easing into a lazy night rhythm. A few stragglers lingered, bags swinging, but the buzz had faded.
Ashi glanced at Haari, catching his far-off look, his mind somewhere else. "Guess it's time to head home," she said, voice quiet, a little wistful.
He snapped back, turning to her, brow lifting. "Wait, we still have some time left, and… I think you rarely go outside, right?" His usual deadpan softened, a rare thoughtfulness creeping in.
She faltered, caught off-guard. "Yeah… even my days off are packed," she admitted, a melancholy note slipping out, like the truth just hit her.
Haari's lips curved, a small, genuine smile. "Then I've got one more spot to show you before we call it."
Ashi's eyebrow arched, curiosity sparking. "Oh? Where? Another mall? Kinda late for that, isn't it?"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Not a mall. It's… somewhere I think you'll like. If you trust me."
She crossed her arms, mock-pensive, then smirked. "Fine. We've got a little wiggle room—so let's go, Kichiro-san."
His grin widened, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he turned, guiding her into the night.
Ashi trailed Haari as he veered from the neon-drenched streets, down a shadowed path where the city's roar dulled to a whisper. Traffic hum faded, overtaken by rustling leaves and cricket chirps, the air growing crisp. The sky deepened to a plush blue, stars winking awake as they wound along a narrow stone trail, old lanterns casting a warm, flickering glow.
Then they stopped—and Ashi's breath hitched.
An urban park unfolded—tucked away, a secret carved from the city's edge. Untouched, hushed, it breathed calm. Damp earth and faint floral notes hung in the breeze, cool and clean. Trees loomed, their dark shapes swaying under lamplight, framing a small pond at the heart—its surface a mirror for the night sky, rippling soft with each gust.
Ashi stood, awestruck, voice barely above a murmur. "Wow… it's so quiet here. We can't hear anything except the wind."
Haari nodded, hands in his pockets, stance easy against the pond's railing. That's why I like this place. It's peaceful. No noise, no distractions… it let's you forget everything beyond its boundaries."
She turned to him, eyes glinting with curiosity. "How'd you even stumble on this?"
He leaned on the rail, gaze drifting to the water's shimmer. "Used to hit this spot with friends—way back."
Ashi tilted her head, stepping closer. "Where'd they go?"
Haari let out a slow breath, eyes lifting to the star-dotted sky"…After university, we all started looking for jobs, and in that race, we got separated. Since then, we've barly kept in touch through the phone."
Ashi watched him, her usual spark softening, catching the weight in his voice. The park's stillness wrapped them, a rare pause in their whirlwind day.
Haari paused, his silhouette sharp against the pond's glow, then pushed on, voice low. "Back in university, my friends and I were inseparable. We shared everything—from late-night study sessions to stupid weekend adventures. We had big dreams and promised each other that we'd always stick together, no matter what."
He let out a small chuckle. "But reality hit harder than we expected. The moment we graduated, life scattered us across different places. Job offers, relocations, responsibilities… and just like that, our daily meet-ups turned into rare phone calls. Now, even when we do talk, it's just the usual 'How's work?' or 'Been busy lately?'"
Ashi stood quiet, the rustle of leaves filling the silence, catching the ache woven into his words.
He shook his head, a small, crooked smile breaking through. "It's strange, isn't it? How quickly things change?"
Her face softened, eyes tracing the water's edge. ""Yeah… I guess life has a way of pushing people apart."
Haari turned, his gaze settling on her, curious now. "What about you, Nicawa-san?"
She blinked, caught off-guard. "Hm?"
"Your friends," he pressed, voice gentle but probing. "Where're they now?"
Her expression froze for a beat—unreadable, a wall flicking up—then shifted, subtle but stark, a shadow crossing her features. She looked away, voice dipping soft, almost fragile. "…Truth is, I've never really had a friend circle."
Haari's eyes widened, a jolt of surprise flashing across his face. "Wait… for real?"
She nodded, barely, her gaze locked on the pond, ripples glinting under the lanterns. Crickets filled the quiet, her words hanging soft and bare.
But Haari wasn't as shocked as he let on. A memory flickered—weeks back, Ashi had dragged him to a bookfair, all bright-eyed, claiming a friend had sent her the banner. That same night, she'd shown it to him—freshly released, ink still wet on the digital date. No friend could've tipped her off that fast. He'd clocked it then, the little lie, but kept his mouth shut. Didn't push, didn't pry—just let her have it. And now, here, he played the part again, feigning surprise, his voice steady despite the truth he'd tucked away.