vernorexia

She adjusted the strap of her bag and began the familiar walk home through the shopping district. The street glowed warmly at night. Paper lanterns swayed gently above storefronts, and wind chimes hung at the entrance gate chimed softly as the breeze passed through them, their clear notes echoing down the street. The scent of oil and fried batter drifted through the air, mixing with sweet bread and roasted tea.

“Hana-chan, you’re out late today,” one of the shop owners called as she passed.

She turned with a bright smile. “Yes! There was a graduation party today.”

“That so?” another voice chimed in. “Congratulations to your senpai, then. Don’t stay out too late.”

“I won’t! Thank you,” she replied, bowing lightly before continuing on.

It still surprised her sometimes—being recognized like this. That part of town had become a second home over the past year. Since spring, she’d slipped into the rhythm of the Furin’s patrols, tagging along with Kaji whenever their schedule matched. She’d lingered at Café Pothos, had a girl talk and exchanged recipes with Kotoha. Bought a warm loaf of sourdough from Cactus Bakery, and hunted for new novels in the cramped second‑floor bookstore that smelled of ink and old paper.

As she walked deeper into the street, the scent of fried meat and garlic hit Hana before she even saw them. The nikuya across the street was still open, its deep-fried treasures bubbling in golden oil. As she approached, she saw the familiar figures gathered outside the shop.

Kaji stood with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. Beside him, Enomoto was gesturing wildly, laughter booming as usual, while Kusumi stood quietly with a smile. Hana brightened instantly.

“Ren! Enomoto-kun, Kusumi-kun!” she greeted, her voice breaking the momentary silence.

“Ou! Hana-chan!” Enomoto greeted back. Kusumi waved a hand while Kaji gave her a nod.

She stepped closer, naturally moving to stand beside Kaji. “Still not home yet?”

Enomoto’s grin widened, his voice booming even in the calm. “We werrre hunting a rrrunaway parrrrot all afterrnoon. That birrd got more attitude than a seniorrr with a deadline!”

Kusumi raised his phone, tapping a photo that showed a bright‑green feathered parrot perched safely in a small cage, its beak slightly ajar as if mid‑argument.

“Caught him rrright beforre sunset. He’s a tough customerr, but we didn’t let him get away.” Enomoto continued.

Hana giggled. “A parrot? That sounds like a lot of work. Good job guys!”

Enomoto puffed out his chest. “We orrrrdered snacks to rrefuel after that exhausting chase.”

Kaji glanced at her, his eyebrows lifting. “Anything you want?”

The faint aroma of fresh korokke curled around them, a buttery scent that made Hana’s stomach rumble. “Then, I’ll have a korokke,” she said, eyes bright. “It smells amazing!”

Enomoto’s eyes flicked between Kaji and Hana. “Same thing, huh?” he teased, nudging Kaji with his elbow. “You two arrrre always orrdering the same.”

Kaji shot back a muted, “Shut up,” before calling the butcher to add Hana’s order with theirs.

The older man packed their order into a paper bag. “Hard work today, huh? Take an extra piece on the house. And don’t stay out too late, alright? The night’s still young, but you need your rest properly.”

They thanked him and stepped aside near the storefront, steam rising faintly from the snacks. As he held his korokke, Kaji glanced at Hana. “Careful, it’s still hot.”

But it was a beat late because just after the words left his mouth, Hana yelped ‘hot!’.

Enomoto laughed. “You warrrrned her too late, Captain!” That makes Kaji shoot a look at him. The boys make sure Hana is fine before they focus back on their snacks.

The four of them fell into a comfortable rhythm of chatter, swapping stories about their day’s patrols, the graduation ceremony at Fujioka today—the reason why she was later than usual, and the soon‑to‑be‑held ceremony at Furin High a few days later. The strange feeling of being on the edge of something new.

The paper bags were lighter by the time they finished eating, only crumbs and the faint warmth of oil left behind. Enomoto stretched his arms over his head with an exaggerated groan, declaring he was finally alive again after ‘nearly dying to a bird smaller than his fist.’ Kusumi typed something on his phone—another comment about the parrot—then showed Hana, earning a small laugh from her.

It was getting late. The shopping district had begun to thin out, shutters rolling down one by one, neon lights flickering on above quiet storefronts. Even the air felt calmer, cooler against Hana’s cheeks after the warmth of the nikuya.

Enomoto pointed down the street. “We’re heading that way.”

Kaji nodded. “I’ll walk Hana home first.”

“Yeah, yeah, boyfrrrriend duty,” Enomoto said with a grin, dodging the kick Kaji half-heartedly aimed at him.

They said their goodbyes at the corner—Enomoto loud as always, Kusumi lifting his hand in a small, polite wave. Then it was just the two of them left under the streetlights.

Hana smiled, and their hands found each other without thought. The warmth of his fingers wrapped around hers was as familiar as the steady rhythm of their heartbeat. Walking beside him, she let out a soft sigh, her mind drifting to the countless times they had spent together in these very streets.

Hana talked about her day—about the karaoke party, the tears, the way her senpai hugged her and told her to keep playing music. Kaji listened, responding here and there, squeezing her hand slightly when her voice dipped.

“Hey, Ren…” She said suddenly.

He hummed in response. She hesitated, then spoke softly. “You know… you don’t really say ‘I like you’ anymore.”

His steps faltered, gaze flicking to her before turning away. He exhaled through his nose, the faintest trace of a blush coloring his pale skin.

She hurried on, cheeks pink. “I know you show it in other ways. You always walk me home, and you help me with everything, and—this isn’t a complaint. I just…” She looked down. “…You only said it once. When you confessed. Almost a year ago.”

Kaji stopped walking. Hana turned to him, worried she’d gone too far. His shoulders tensed, his grip on her hand tightening just a little. He didn’t say anything at first, the silence stretching between them.

“…You know I’m bad at that.” He said, his voice lower than usual, almost reluctant.

“I know,” she said gently, her fingers tightening around his. “…But I like hearing your voice say it.”

His heartbeat roared in his ears. Running would be easier. Deflecting. Staying silent. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel it—he did. More than he had expected. Every moment with Hana, every time she laughed, every time she reached for his hand, it made his heart race in a way he still didn’t quite understand.

He wasn’t an open person. Never had been. He wasn’t like her, who could say what she wanted and meant it without hesitation. He wasn’t like Enomoto, who could shout his feelings from the rooftops. He had always been the quiet one, the one who showed his affection with actions instead of words. But now, Hana was asking for something he couldn’t give easily.

And yet, he didn’t run.

Because if he did, he’d regret it forever.

He swallowed hard, took a breath that was too long and too shaky, and finally, he said it.

“…I like you.”

The words barely made it past his lips, barely above a whisper, but they were real.

Hana’s eyes widened in surprise. The warmth in her chest swelled so suddenly that her breath caught. She looked at Kaji, his gaze still forward, his face flush with something that wasn’t quite nervous anymore. He had done it. He had made that small, impossible step forward.

She didn’t say anything at first, just pressed her palm gently against his, fingers curling around his in an almost desperate hold. Then, with a soft, breathless whisper, she managed, “…Again?”

Her voice was small, but Kaji flinched anyway. His shoulders tensed, and he exhaled slowly, as if she had asked for something far more difficult than words.

“You’re cruel,” he muttered, but there was no real reprimand in his tone. Just the quiet honesty of someone who was trying. Someone who was here, even when it was hard.

His fingers flexed in her grip before he took a steadier breath. Then, more clearly, he finally turned to face her properly. “…I like you, Hana.”

It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t dramatic. It was still awkward. It was still stiff. But it was real.

Hana couldn’t help it—her smile bloomed wide, so big it stretched from ear to ear, her eyes sparkling with the kind of happiness that made her seem younger, brighter. She threw her arms around him without hesitation, pressing her face into his chest. “Thank you, Ren! I like you too—so sooo much!”

Kaji froze for a half-second, his body going rigid under her embrace. Then slowly, carefully, wrapped his arms around her in return. A small, unguarded smile curved his lips.

The night breeze moved gently through Makochi, carrying with it the faint scent of earth slowly warming toward spring. Above them, the cherry trees lining the road stood in quiet anticipation. Their branches were still mostly bare, winter clinging stubbornly to the tips — but if one looked closely, small buds had begun to swell at the ends of each twig.

Not yet flowers. Not yet the burst of pink that would soon transform the street into something dazzling.

Just promise.

Kaji felt it — the way things were shifting. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just… steadily. Like the way those buds had formed without anyone noticing.

Hana pulled back slightly from their embrace, her hands still clutching his jacket as if she wasn’t quite ready to let go. Her smile hadn’t faded. It probably wouldn’t for a while.

He wasn’t good with grand declarations. He wasn’t the kind of person who bloomed all at once. But he could grow. Slowly. Quietly. In ways only she seemed patient enough to wait for.

A single petal — too early, too impatient — drifted down from somewhere above. Hana caught it instinctively, staring at the pale pink resting against her palm.

“Oh,” she breathed.

Kaji glanced at it, then at her.

“Too soon,” he muttered.

Hana laughed softly. “Maybe it just couldn’t wait.”

He huffed — but he reached for her hand again, threading their fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

In a few weeks, those branches will be heavy with blossoms. New school year. New responsibilities. Kouhai. Changes neither of them could fully predict.

But for now, under trees not yet in bloom, they walked side by side.

Not in full bloom. Not finished growing.

Just beginning.

And that felt like enough.

It had been a crisp autumn day, they were still in their first year, adapting to the rhythm of high school. She’d been hanging out with Kaji, Enomoto, and Kusumi after their patrol. Kaji, as usual, had his headphones around his neck and a lollipop stick jutting from his lips.

“Let’s take some pictures!” Hana announced, pulling out her instant camera.

Enomoto had raised an eyebrow. “Why not just use yourrrr phone like usual?”

“No, no, it’s different!” she insisted, shaking her head. “The paper is important!”

Kusumi, always supportive, typed: 'I’ll take one of you and Kaji together.'

Hana’s pink eyes widened with delight. “Really? Thank you, Kusumi-kun!”

Kaji, who had been quietly fiddling with his empty lollipop stick, pushed himself off the bench and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black jeans. He maintained his typical poker face, but Hana knew him well enough now to sense the faint tension in his shoulders whenever they were overtly affectionate in front of their friends.

Kusumi held the camera up, ready to press the shutter.

An idea sparked in Hana’s mind. She tugged gently on the sleeve of Kaji’s green gakuran. He obligingly bent his head a little, his gray-blue eyes meeting her pink ones, a silent question in their depths. He probably thought she wanted to whisper something.

Instead, Hana leaned closer and pressed a quick, feather-light peck to his cheek.

Click.

The unexpected affection jolted Kaji back. He pulled away fast, his face immediately coloring bright red. The usually composed, poker-faced Furin Grade Captain was visibly flustered.

“Hana!” he barked, the sound halfway between irritated and mortified. He glanced quickly at Enomoto and Kusumi to gauge their reactions. Enomoto was already whistling and clapping in amusement. Kusumi, meanwhile, was smiling broadly, holding the camera in one hand and waiting patiently for the picture to slide out. Hana, still giggling, knew he was annoyed at having his cool exterior shattered, especially in front of their friends, but she found his shyness endearing.

An embarrassed heat coiled tight in Kaji’s chest. He didn’t care for the sudden, intense scrutiny of his friends, but he cared even less that Hana was currently delighting in his flustered state.

With a swift, almost rough movement, Kaji wound his arm around her shoulder, pulling her tightly and abruptly against his chest. Before she could gasp in surprise, he dipped his head and pressed his lips firmly against her cheek, holding the contact just long enough to make his point.

Hana giggled even harder, the sensation tickling her skin. Kaji’s lips, she noted, were surprisingly soft. Neither of them realized that Kusumi had been ready the entire time, swiftly angle the camera and press the shutter again, capturing this second, more deliberate exchange.

The photo she now held in her hand was a testament to that second click.

She hadn’t known about that second picture until her birthday a month later. Kusumi had presented her with a small, neatly wrapped gift box, and inside was an aroma candle and the polaroid. Enomoto had eagerly filled her in on the details. Kusumi, intending to give Hana a special birthday present, had shown Kaji the photo first, thinking he might want to write a personal message on it for Hana. Apparently, Kaji had gone even redder than he had that day, snatching the photo and staring at it for a long moment, a conflicted expression on his face.

Enomoto grinned. “When Kusumi asked him to wrrrite some message on it, he kept saying, ‘What am I supposed to write?’ He got totally shy. In the end, he just scribbled that one worrrd, and thrrrrew the marrker down.”

And that was why, despite the chaotic affection captured in the frame, the inscription was the incredibly simple, slightly generic word, congrats. It wasn’t a profession of love or a sweet message; it was the quickest, most impersonal greeting Kaji could manage while his heart was undoubtedly pounding with mortification and affection.

Hana traced the black ink with her fingertip, a soft smile playing on her lips. She placed the photo carefully into the slot of her new album, right on the first page. The pink petals of a stray cherry blossom, having blown in through her window, settled softly on the white border of the photograph. It was a memory she knew she would keep close forever.