Archive of Our Own

“Miss Ayase!”

When Momo turns around, it’s that boy that she saw on the way to school, standing in the classroom door. Her supposed friend. The entire group she walked with are meant to be her friends, but…

She only knows Jiji.

There’s the girl that apparently lives with her and her grandma, Vamola. She seems nice enough, and she’s really attached to Momo, so they kind of know each other, but it’s only been a day. Still, Momo probably feels most comfortable with her.

Then there’s Jiji, who Momo hasn’t seen since, like, grade school, and he’s definitely grown and supposedly believes in the occult now. That was a weird conversation, but things are chill, and he apologized for ever making fun of her.

The other girl, Aira, Momo knows her. Sort of. She’s seen her around is probably more accurate. Popular, pretty, a bit ditzy, and always has guys following her every move. She doesn’t really seem like the type to be hanging around this group, but she walked with them all the way to her class.

Then there’s him.

He didn’t really talk much on the way to school. Instead, he hung back with Jiji and Aira, and as far as Momo knows, he’s not in her class. He welcomed her and Vamola back from their trip, which was nice, and he calls her “Miss Ayase,” which is polite but not really necessary. So, he knows her somehow. Or rather, they know each other. There had to have been a moment when they crossed paths.

So, like, who is he?

“Oh, hey,” Momo says. “It’s, um… It’s… you.”

She presses her lips together, internally cringing at her own words and lack of confidence. This is so unlike her. Normally, Momo would have no problem with something like this — saying hello to a person. This guy is probably the least threatening dude she’s ever seen, and here she is, feeling so out of place. She knows that she has memory problems, but no one told her that she was going to feel like an imposter the entire time, too.

And that guy. He’s standing in the classroom door, jaw set. There’s a look of determination on his face, like it took him everything to come here, and his eyes bore into hers — wide and brown behind the frames of his glasses.

Still, he falters.

Momo doesn’t know his name, and as bad as she feels, it’s pretty easy to see that it hurts him more. It’s the same look that she saw in Jiji and Vamola. A bit of shock and surprise. A bit of pain. A bit of loss. Momo’s got all of these people feeling sorry for her, and she doesn’t know what to make of it. She can’t just be friends with people she doesn’t know, but how is she supposed to do this without hurting anyone?

“Yo, Okarun!” Miko beams. She waves him into the classroom, turning in her seat. “What’s up? You’ve been gone, too.”

Momo eyes her friend, her gaze flicking between Miko and the boy — Okarun? — slowly making his way over.

“I, uh…” Okarun pauses, looking around the room. “I just wanted to talk to Miss Ayase.”

“Careful,” Kei says as she reapplies her mascara, not even bothering to look up from her mirror. “Your girl’s got amnesia.”

Immediately, Momo feels her face burn, turning to Kei. “Hey, what the hell do you mean by—”

“It’s okay. I know already,” he interrupts. His voice is suddenly a lot calmer. More smooth. Something in his demeanor has shifted, and there’s a bout of confidence that Momo didn’t notice before. “I just wanted to see if Miss Ayase would like to have lunch together?”

Momo stalls, taken aback. He’s standing a bit straighter now, looking at her directly in the eye. It sort of goes against everything she would have assumed about him. Not to stereotype, but this Okarun dude just seems like the kind of guy that would startle easily and get flustered around girls. Instead, he’s straightforward, serious, and… approaching her?

“Go on, girl,” Miko says, smiling at Momo. There’s a bit of a teasing, mischievous look in her eye. Not like she’s making fun of them. More like this is something they’re used to. “Have your lunch.”

“You know where to find us when it’s over,” Kei adds, all sing-songy, still fixing her makeup. “See you around, Okarun.”

“R— right,” he says. When he turns back to Momo, he smiles. “You ready?”

Momo blinks, slowly standing. “Yeah, I guess.”

As they walk together, Momo notices that he doesn’t mind leading the way, and he doesn’t expect her to talk or have a conversation. He keeps his gaze forward, weaving through the halls and around other students, holding doors open for her and directing her on where to go. There’s no question or push about her memories, and there’s no long-winded story about everything she’s missed.

Just them.

It’s nice. It doesn’t take too long for Momo to figure out that he’s leading her up to the roof, and when they finally take their seats and break into their food, Okarun wordlessly passes her a drink that he must have picked up on the way over to her class. It’s a Pompi. Her favorite.

“Thanks,” she says, staring at the carton. It’s her exact favorite. The kind that she gets with Kei and Miko all the time. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“That’s what friends are for,” he replies easily, taking a bite of his food.

For a bit, they just sit and eat together. The weather outside is nice, and the sky is littered with bright, fluffy clouds. There’s a slight breeze, but it only cools them down in the sunlight, and it leaves Momo feeling a bit lighter than before.

She doesn’t really come to the roof often. Usually, for lunch, she likes to hang in her classroom and talk with her friends. This must be a spot that she comes to with Okarun and the others. Although…

“So, like, where’s everyone else?” she asks casually, setting down her drink. “Are they joining us?”

Okarun pauses eating and adjusts his glasses, staring off into the sky. “Oh, it’s just us. I figured you probably didn’t want to be crowded.”

Well, he’s right.

There’s a lot that Momo wants to know, but every time she starts to dig too much, she begins to feel overwhelmed. Her memories have effectively been sealed off from her, and she’s pretty sure she can’t just force them to come back. Spending lunch with a group of people she supposedly knows and then forgot just means that she would be spending lunch feeling nothing but guilt.

Hell, she’s only having lunch with one person, and she already feels worse than ever before.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, taking a bite out of her sandwich.

Several minutes go by with them just being next to one another. While she may feel bad about not knowing him, she finds that his presence is nice. A part of her wonders how close they are, since he felt comfortable enough to come to her class and invite her for lunch, and Kei and Miko not only know of him but also know him by name enough to greet him.

This guy — along with everything else — is just one big question mark in her head. She doesn’t know where to begin or how to retrace her steps. Is it even possible? God, this all sucks. She’s never felt so outcasted before. It’s like her life isn’t even hers anymore.

“I’m sorry.”

Okarun turns to her, his eyes wide and mouth ajar. “What— why are you sorry, Miss Ayase?”

Momo furrows her eyebrows, bringing the heel of her palm up to her temple, pressing into her head as if it’ll suddenly bring her memory back. “I don’t… remember anything. I know that you’re trying to be a good friend here, and I just— ugh. I don’t know.”

Immediately, he’s setting his things down, turning to face her fully. His hands hover just over her arms, and he says, “Don’t even, Miss Ayase! It’s not your fault. You don’t have to feel bad.”

It angers her. How nice he’s being. How genuine he is. She wants to know him. Who is this guy? Why is she so important to him?

Every answer, she’s lost it all.

“But I do!” she snaps, burying her face into her hands. “Every time I try to remember, my body goes numb, and my heart races like crazy. I can’t think straight, everything goes muffled, and I don’t know where I am. I can see you all — I can see my grandma — looking at me like you’re waiting for me to remember, and I am, too! But—” she groans. “—I don’t know when it’ll happen!”

“Hey, listen,” he says, his voice low and soothing. Reaching out, he gently grabs her wrists, prying her hands from her face. When their eyes meet, he’s really close. “You don’t have to remember right away. I don’t expect you to. I don’t want you pushing yourself or hurting yourself trying to remember, got it? I just… I just want to be your friend.”

Momo stares at him, her mouth parted.

In the sunlight, he sort of… glows. It shines along his dark, messy curls, just barely falling over his eyes, soft, loose, and a little bit tangled. His eyes burn through hers. Determined. Unmoving. They’re such a vibrant color in the light. A sort of copper. Or a caramel. Maybe something like honey. Shiny, sweet, soft.

It’s sort of like the wind has stopped. Like everything has stopped. There’s a stillness in the air as Momo looks into his eyes and finds that she can only see herself in his pupils. His gaze is focused, only set on her. Like she’s the most important thing in the world.

“You don’t have to remember,” he whispers. “You don’t have to try and fight for something in the past. Let me be your friend now. In the present. Okay?”

There are so many emotions flooding through her that all she can really do is blink at him. He’s still holding onto her hands. His grip is firm but not painful. It’s more grounding than anything. Like he just wants to remind her that he’s here.

“Okay.”

“Momo!” Vamola rushes at her with a wide grin on her face through the school halls.

Momo finds herself smiling, too, letting Vamola tackle her in a hug. “Hey, Vamola. Ready to go home?”

It’s strange to have a foreign exchange student living with her, but it’s not like Momo can really complain either. If anything, it’s sort of like having a sister.

After getting past the initial who are you? phase, Momo quickly learned that Vamola is a really sweet girl, and she loves hanging out with Momo. The night before, they even had a skincare night together, and Momo got to show her all of her Takakura Ken merch.

“Yes!” Vamola beams, leading her to the doors. “Let’s all head home.”

Momo falters a bit. “‘All’?”

As they walk through the main entrance, stepping out of the school, that’s when she spots him. Leaning against the school gates, Okarun is waiting, looking back at the building. He’s playing with a loose curl hanging in front of his face, but when their eyes meet, he straightens up and starts to walk towards them.

Surely… he’s waiting for someone else?

“Miss Ayase,” he says just as he approaches. “Did you have a good first day back?”

Vamola smiles, holding onto Momo’s arm. “Hi, Okarun! I thought we were going to leave class together?”

Okarun smiles, looking down at the ground as he rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, I just needed to take care of something first.”

“Hey, Okarun,” Momo says. The three of them fall into step as they leave the school. “First day was fine, but, like, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, uh, you know,” he mumbles, readjusting his glasses. “I just thought I might walk you both home.”

Something catches in Momo’s throat. A short of breath. A slight flutter in the stomach. She finds herself looking at Okarun — and only Okarun — wondering what it is about him that makes her feel so… like herself.

“You don’t have to do that,” she mutters, glancing away as she feels her face flushing. “Is that something you usually do?”

Okarun shrugs. “Sometimes…”

“He does it all the time!” Vamola cuts in with a smile. She leans forward, looking past Momo at Okarun, and adds, “He also hangs out at home a lot, too.”

“Oh,” Momo says, her face somehow getting even redder.

Vamola breaks from her arm, skipping ahead a bit to look at a few shops on the walk. It leaves just Momo and Okarun walking together, only a couple of meters back.

“So, like,” Momo starts, biting her lip. She doesn’t really want to ask it, but she has to know: “Are you my boyfriend… or something?”

Okarun startles, tripping along the sidewalk as his arms flail to steady himself. Momo turns to him quickly to make sure he’s okay, and she sees that his face is even redder than before.

“S— sorry!” she says, holding her arms out. “That’s, like, a really awkward question...”

“No, no, it’s okay,” he replies, strained.

“It’s just, like, Kei called me ‘your girl,’ and, like, Vamola says you walk me home often, and you’re always at the house,” Momo grits out, clearly embarrassed. Her face burns, and she doesn’t know where to look — if she should look at him or literally anywhere else.

“No, I— I get it,” Okarun says. His voice is a bit panicked. “It’s okay though. We’re, uh, we’re just friends.”

Momo finds her gaze drifting back to him as they walk. He’s still looking away from her, playing with his hair. It’s hard to see his expression because of the light reflecting on his glasses, but the tips of his ears are pink, and his face is still flushed.

She can’t help but feel similarly. Flustered and embarrassed. She’s been so weird ever since she came back to school, and she hates how awkward and nervous she’s being. What a dunce. Bringing up a question like that. Why would she do that?

Better yet, why does she feel a little disappointed by his answer?

“Oh,” she replies. “Right.”

The walk continues with tension thick in the air. As they make their way through the city, towards the train, Momo steals glances at Okarun, trying to figure him out. Now that they’ve had time to settle, he seems a lot less flustered. His gaze is still set forward, but he looks a lot less stiff, which is more than what Momo can say for herself.

She wants all the answers. She wants to know. The problem with her trying to rush this is that it’s stressing her out, but she hates being out of the loop even more. Still, this Okarun guy doesn’t seem to be rushing her. In fact, it’s the exact opposite. He’s moving at her pace, and he’s just there to be there. For her.

“So, um,” she tries again, swallowing. “Like, how did we meet?”

Okarun briefly glances at her, then continues to look forward. “It’s a pretty crazy story. I think if I told it all, it would overwhelm you.”

Momo hums, holding her hands behind her back. “Sure, but, like, you could tell me the beginning. Right?”

There’s a quick pause where Okarun thinks it over, weighing the options of telling her or not. Surely, it couldn’t be anything too crazy. She knows that her grandma tried to tell her that aliens are real, and she knows that she’s missing a good chunk of information, but… how deep does her relationship with Okarun go?

“Well, I guess it started when you stood up for me,” he says, breaking through her train of thought.

Momo looks over at him, surprised, and asks, “Wait, what?”

“I, uh, wasn’t very popular before we met,” he continues to explain. “Actually, I didn’t have any friends at all. Kids used to throw things at me and make fun of me because I’m really into the occult and all that stuff. I was sitting in my class once, and there was this group of guys tossing paper balls at me, and then…”

He turns to her properly, wearing a soft smile. A sort of smile that’s like a cold drink in the summer. Or a hot chocolate in the winter. It’s a comfortable, familiar smile. Flowers in the spring and light showers in the fall. The seasons wash over Momo as Okarun gazes into her eyes.

“When I looked up, you were sitting in front of me, just… staring,” he says. There’s a look in his eyes. All soft and sentimental. Gleaming. Filled with admiration. “You stared at them until they turned around and left me alone. Then you asked what I was reading about and walked away. I approached you shortly after.”

Momo feels her pace slowing down, staring at the ground as she searches for the memory. It’s not there — of course, it isn’t — but… there’s an emotion that tugs at her heart. It leaves her feeling a bit breathless, like she’s lost something.

“I, uh, I didn’t know… that,” she mumbles, playing with a strand of hair. “That I was your first friend.”

“You’re the reason I even know Jiji or Miss Shiratori or anyone,” he insists. “You’re the reason I am the way I am now. My life changed, and it’s because of you. I’m not the same person I once was, Miss Ayase. That’s why I’m here now.”

Another rush of emotion floods through her as her pulse quickens its pace. Momo blushes, turning away, curling in on herself as they reach the station.

“For what it’s worth, Okarun,” she mumbles, barely above a whisper. “I don’t think you needed to change. I think that even if you were here now, as your old self, I’d still be your friend.”

It makes her heart pound against her chest, and she finds herself feeling nervous, even as she steals a glance his way. Her hands are all clammy, and her face is surely red, but even as she’s looking at Okarun, he’s just… staring back at her.

How she wants to know him. There’s so much history in his eyes, and she doesn’t know what any of it means. She doesn’t know why he’s looking at her like the world has stopped. She doesn’t know why her stomach won’t stop doing backflips. She doesn’t know why she feels so sad.

Like she’s mourning something she doesn’t even know she’s lost.

“I know, Miss Ayase,” Okarun says. “That’s the kind of person you are.”

Is it?

It’s hard to say what Momo feels like right now. Something between a failure and a lost soul. She’s been trying to drift through this, hoping that her memory will just come back to her. A lot can change in a few months. That much is obvious from the group of friends she now seems to have. In that time, she’s done a complete one-eighty on Okarun’s life, so what does that mean he’s done for her?

The three of them take the train, following the familiar, monotonous route she’s known for so long. Okarun and Vamola go over something in one of his books — something about aliens and cryptids. Must be the kind of occult thing that he’s into, and while Momo might not believe in that kind of stuff, she finds that she doesn’t really mind them talking about it.

Slowly, she drifts her way into the conversation. Listening to Okarun as he explains different creatures and what they’re known for. There’s stuff about American legends, old English legends, ancient Japanese legends, and more. It’s kind of weird, but the passion he has for these things is admirable, too.

There’s an aura around him. He exudes confidence, even though he’s a bit awkward. Like he’s comfortable here, despite being surrounded by a bunch of strangers and talking about things that most people would find weird, because he’s with them.

It’s a nice presence to have. Refreshing. Most of the guys that Momo knows are a bunch of sleazy, disgusting boys. Nothing like the ones she sees in movies or TV shows. Nothing like the guy walking next to her now.

He walks her and Vamola all the way up to the door. As Vamola says goodbye and walks inside, Momo’s grandma asks him if he’s staying for dinner. A part of Momo wants to say yes, but she freezes, unsure if she should, and Okarun simply says he has to go home.

But he doesn’t leave right away.

They stand together in the setting sun, as the sky casts a deep orange glow across his face. There are thin golden threads that weave through his hair — strands reflecting in the light — and sharp, dark shadows that frame his face. Momo finds her eyes tracing them, along the slant of his nose and the curve of his jaw. Up close to him, standing still, she notices that he’s a bit taller than her. Not by much, but when his posture straightens, it’s a lot more noticeable.

He looks back at her like he’s waiting for some sort of signal. An indication to leave, a goodbye — something. His hands sit firmly at his sides, and his glasses glint when he shifts his head. She can see, in his eyes, all of the emotion and unspoken words he’s keeping close to himself. Things that she would have known if she knew him, but she doesn’t.

She wants to know him.

“Um… thanks,” she murmurs, averting her gaze. “For walking me— or, uh, us home.”

Okarun blinks. “Yeah, of course, Miss Ayase. Thanks for letting me.”

“Uh huh…” she awkwardly mumbles. When she looks back at him, he’s still staring at her. “I guess I’ll… see you tomorrow?”

And for just a moment — just one moment — his eyes widen. There’s a flicker of recognition that cuts through his gaze, and it’s such a minute gesture. The tiniest reaction, but Momo catches it all the same.

See you tomorrow.

But the moment’s gone.

Okarun gives her a small smile and turns back towards the torii gate. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Ayase.”

And there’s a small pull in her chest that tells Momo that this phrase is something special.

“Hey, Okarun,” Momo says, kicking at a rock down the path.

He hums in reply as he walks alongside her, his hands shoved into his pockets. Okarun and the rest of the group met up with her and Vamola on the walk to school, much like the day before. Up ahead, Jiji and Vamola are teasing Aira about something, her voice shrill over the early morning air. Their smiles grow at her increasing frustration, but she never tells them to leave her alone or shove off. Instead, the three continue to walk together, a strange but comforting sight.

It's weird to not know them. Momo isn’t sure how long it’ll take for her to get used to this feeling. Of knowing people she doesn’t know. No one’s trying to rush her, and she’s more focused on not failing school, but it sort of feels like she’s constantly fifth-wheeling everyone. There’s still so much more that she wants to know, and she wants to start with the guy who insists on spending his lunch breaks with her and walking her home from school.

Momo holds the straps of her bag with both hands, looking down at the ground as they make their way through the city. It’s been a few days since she first came back. A lot of them were spent cramming like crazy and trying to learn what she can from Kei and Miko’s notes, but now that she’s at a more settled pace, there are things that she wants answers to.

“Can I ask you about your name?” she asks.

He looks over at her, an eyebrow raised. “My name?”

She presses her lips together. “Like… is it really Okarun?”

“Oh,” he says as he adjusts his glasses. “No, it’s not. Actually, it’s a nickname that you gave me.”

“What for?”

“Because I like the occult.”

Momo stops in her tracks, staring at him, and Okarun stops, too, a bit startled. As she chews her bottom lip, she tries to read his expression, but he only looks confused.

“I didn’t…” she pauses, letting out a soft sigh. “I mean, like, I wasn’t making fun of you… Right?”

His eyes widen, and he takes a step towards her, arms out. “No, no! Not at all. You gave me the nickname, and it sort of stuck. Most people know me as ‘Okarun’ now. Only a few people call me by my name.”

“Oh, like who?” Momo asks curiously.

They continue their walk as Okarun looks up to the sky, thinking. He adjusts his glasses, turning back to her, and replies, “Actually, now that I think about it, I think Miss Shiratori uses it the most.”

There’s a small pang that cuts into Momo’s chest, making her heart squeeze and her lungs tighten. It’s a sort of… bitter feeling that arises, and Momo still doesn’t entirely know what to think of Aira. When they first met, they were at each other’s throats, calling the other girl a skank, but… she also insists on walking with them to school and says hello to Momo in the halls. Everyone tells her that’s pretty normal for them, and there’s a bit of respect that she holds for Aira now that it’s easier to see there’s more beyond her sweet, popular girl image.

But the fact that she’s the only one who calls Okarun by his real name feels… oddly special.

And for some reason, it makes Momo upset.

“Well, maybe I could call you by your name,” she offers. Immediately, she regrets it, embarrassed at how eager she sounds. “I mean… if that’s okay.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, but… I think you liked calling me ‘Okarun’ more,” he replies coolly. “You gave me the nickname after learning my real one.”

Momo hums, trying to recall anything related to what he was saying.

Nothing.

“Well, what’s your name then?”

Okarun looks at her. His eyes are all wide and brown and sparkling in the morning sun. He’s backlit by the light, creating a sort of haloed illusion that outlines his entire frame. Somewhere in the distance, everything else begins to fade away — Jiji and Vamola’s laughter, Aira’s annoyed scolding, the cars and trains in the city — and it’s just Okarun. The only thing she can look at.

Okarun.

“Well, I’m Ken,” he sort of mumbles. “Takakura Ken.”

And it’s something of an explosion. Everything that was once tuned out comes rushing back to Momo’s ears. Every sound around her hits her at once — lively and loud and piercing. Cars are honking, children are screaming, their friends are laughing. Momo can feel her heart race with every new sound that registers, and all she can do is stop in her tracks and continue to stare at Okarun.

No way…

She can’t believe it.

There’s no way.

Something like that. It’s just, like, a crazy coincidence. Right?

Is that why she calls him Okarun?

“I—” she swallows, still staring at him. There’s no smile on his face — nothing to indicate that he’s lying. He doesn’t seem like the type to anyway, but… “You’re— are you messing with me?”

He startles, eyes widening. “No! Of course not, Miss Ayase! That’s my name. Honest.”

Momo’s hands are suddenly really clammy. Christ, it’s like she’s stuck them under a faucet and started going about her day. Her throat is all closed up, too, and her heart won’t stop pounding. It practically thunders in her ears like a banging drum. All she can hear, over and over again, is Takakura Ken’s famous line.

I’m an awkward guy.

Strong, genuine, caring. He’s bad at expressing his emotions and is seemingly closed off to everyone else, showing how he cares through action rather than words. That’s what matters more, right? To show someone how much you care rather than tell them. To be someone who is authentic and kind and unafraid to stand your ground.

That’s the Takakura Ken she knows.

Momo peeks at the guy walking next to her.

So, what about the Takakura Ken she’s learning to know?

“I can’t believe I work at a place like this,” Momo groans, walking up to the doors of her supposed job: a freaking maid café. She’s sure that Kei and Miko had a blast with this kind of information.

“Don’t worry, girl, you rocked it,” Miko says with a smile, winking. “And you were so cute in your little outfit.”

“Don’t mock me,” Momo hisses, her grip tightening on the straps of her bag.

“So, like, where’s Okarun?” Kei asks, looking around.”

“How should I know?” Momo grits out. “Does he usually come here?”

“We brought him here once on your first day,” Miko snickers. “Then when we tried to leave, he said he was going to stay behind.”

Momo gapes at her friends. “You what?!”

“Trust me, girl,” Kei says, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. “It was so cute! We even got a photo. Check it.”

She quickly whips out her phone, selecting the photos app and pulling up what looks to be a picture of a picture. In it, Momo is lined up with her friends and Okarun, with her and Okarun right in the middle, pressed against each other. They’re making the shape of a heart with their hands in front of their chests, both blushing furiously and glancing away.

It’s clear that they’re embarrassed as hell, and while Kei and Miko are beaming like there’s no tomorrow, Momo can’t help but continue to look at her and Okarun’s expressions. Sure, they’re flustered. Their faces are red, and they look super tense, but there’s something more. It’s not an angry blush. Momo doesn’t necessarily look upset in the photo. It’s more like she hates that it’s Okarun, of all people, seeing her like this.

Even now, standing outside of her work before a shift, she thinks she could stand to see her friends here. She would hate every second of it, and the teasing would never end. But the idea of Okarun, specifically, coming here and seeing her…

Momo pushes the phone away, embarrassed all over again.

“So, you brought him here, and he stayed,” she says walking up to the stairs. “Some friends you are.”

Kei and Miko both laugh together, following her to the door.

“Like, don’t even, girl,” Kei teases. “He stayed to walk you home. You told us about it at school after we wouldn’t stop making jokes about it.”

“He’s a good dude,” Miko adds, giving Momo a quick hug. “We like him a lot.”

Momo falters for a moment, stunned at the door. She quickly hugs her friends back, then reaches for the handle to head inside, muttering, “Whatever. Don’t go doing that to me again.”

They laugh, waving at her. “No promises!”

When she finally makes her way upstairs, Momo feels herself breathing out a sigh of relief. She’s in a new place, and she’s never worked here (as far as she remembers), but it’s nice to be somewhere where she can sort of shut the rest of the world out and focus on work.

Usually, she hates these kinds of jobs. It’s not often that she’s able to keep one, and that’s in part due to the fact that she doesn’t like feeling exploited. But if she got this job and has stuck with it, then it must mean something. Besides, this will at least provide her a bit of an escape. Even if it’s just for a few hours.

The process to explain her memory issues and recent absence isn’t very fun. Thankfully, she has a classmate who works here that can back her up, and apparently she’s done well enough here in the past for her supervisors to be understanding.

Going through training all over again is a bit of a pain. Momo wishes she could say it all comes back to her naturally, but nothing does. She feels shy with customers, and she’s terrified that she’s going to mess something up. As she moves from table to table, she can’t help but ask herself if this is how she would greet a customer. Or maybe she’d do something else. Or when she’s pouring a drink, did she used to smile?

Her shift ends at ten, and as she looks up at the time, seeing the hour hand barely past seven, all she thinks is that she’s been screwing this whole gig up. Every time she needs to backtrack or correct herself, or every time she puts in an order wrong or stumbles along her words, she thinks, This is it. This is where I get fired.

Ten o’clock doesn’t come soon enough, and by the end of it all, she’s bowing to the manager, apologizing profusely.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I know that I probably didn’t do very well today, but I promise—”

“Oh, don’t worry, Momo, you were great!” her manager beams. “You were better today than you were on your first.”

“I— really?” Momo asks, raising her head.

Her manager waves her hand flippantly. “Oh, yes. Much better! You didn’t call a customer any names this time around, and you had all your tables taken care of.”

“I didn’t— what?” Momo furrows her brows, thinking back to her supposed first day. Kei and Miko did say that they showed up. And with Okarun. Knowing herself, Momo probably let something slip then. Either way, she’s not getting fired, and her manager is telling her she did a good job, so she straightens back up and says, “Thank you so much. I’ll, uh, see you guys tomorrow?”

“Actually, we’re closed tomorrow,” her manager replies. “But we’ll see you again the day after. Same time!”

“Thank you,” Momo says again. “Have a good night!”

She heads to the back room to change out of her uniform and grab her things. It’s starting to get late, so she’ll need to rush home if she wants to be in bed at a decent time. While she’s changing, she keeps thinking back to her first day. Her true first day.

Kei and Miko showed up, brought Okarun along, and they all took a photo. Momo now knows that they were doing the Moe Moe Tri-Beam in the picture, which makes her both extremely embarrassed and really flustered. Also, Kei didn’t have the picture itself. She only had a photo of the picture, and Miko didn’t pull it out.

Momo calls out her last goodbyes as she walks towards the doors, waving and heading towards the building stairs. In her mind, she’s trying to figure out where that photo would be. It’s not in her room — or, at least, it’s not anywhere that she’s seen — and it’s clear that Kei and Miko don’t have it, so that means that the photo either belongs to Momo or…

“Okarun,” she says, just under her breath. Like she really can’t believe he’s here.

He’s standing at the base of the stairs, leaning against the railing. There’s a duffel bag lazily slung over his left shoulder, and he’s got on some sort of graphic tee and a pair of sweatpants, making him seem more chill and relaxed than he does in his gakuran. His eyes are beaming still, looking up at her as he casually taps his foot against the stone to the rhythm of a song that plays in his head. He’s a little flushed in the face, his hair is all mussed, a bit damp-looking as it curls while drying, and it falls messily over his forehead and the rest of his undercut.

Then he smiles at her. “Hello, Miss Ayase. How was your shift?”

“It— I— fine,” she manages, still startled. A rush of emotion floods her mind. It makes her pulse quicken and her mouth dry, looking at him, smiling at her like that. “What are you doing here?”

Okarun’s smile shifts, going from a soft greeting to a bit of a… cocky smirk? It seems so unnatural to his character, but as he pushes himself off of the railing, he only says, “I can’t let a lady walk home all by herself at this hour.”

It’s impossible to fight the smile on her face. Momo gapes at Okarun, holding onto the straps of her bag as she descends the rest of the stairs and meets him at the bottom.

“You didn’t have to come all the way out here just to walk me home,” she says, following him as he starts to lead her out of the market. “You should be at home.”

Okarun turns his head a bit, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “Actually, I was already out. At the gym.” He holds his duffel bag up. “I usually work out while you’re at your shifts. Then I walk you home after.”

Momo blinks and looks away. She can feel her cheeks heating up, and all she can manage is, “I didn’t know you did that.”

“Yeah, you know, they say that cardio is good before and after a workout, so, like…” he trails off, his voice growing quieter with each word.

The two of them walk together in silence most of the way home. It’s comfortable at least. More than it has been in the past. Momo still can’t help but feel restless. She wants to talk to him more. To ask more questions. There’s so much that she doesn’t know about their history, and the more time she spends with him, the closer she thinks she’s getting to figuring it all out.

What happens when she finally unlocks that part of her?

What does that mean for her?

And for Okarun?

“So…” she starts, looking at her feet as she walks. “Do you do this every time I have a shift?”

Okarun hums, scratching at the back of his head. “Kind of, yeah. It’s sort of like our thing.”

“Our thing,” she repeats, letting the words linger on her tongue. “I guess you weren’t kidding when you said we were best friends.”

“You’re probably the most important person to me, Miss Ayase,” he replies casually.

The admission makes Momo’s stomach lurch, rocketing up to her throat, then plummeting back down towards the ground. She falters, stumbling at bit, and before she can react, a strong grip on her forearm steadies her.

When she turns, Okarun’s holding onto her, his eyes widened with worry. Momo can feel her heart in her throat and her stomach in her ass, and all she can hear is her pulse racing in her ears. What the—

“Sorry,” Okarun says, slowly releasing her. Once he sees that she’s standing, he relaxes a bit more.

Still, there’s a phantom touch on her arm. A strong, firm grip, but it was gentle, too. He mentioned that he works out, and that’s not something she would’ve expected from him, but now that she’s looking at him…

He’s wearing a Ghostbusters tee. Like something she would have to sleep with and wear around the house. Even in a loose t-shirt, she can see that his arms are well-defined. His forearms flex as he slowly retracts from her, and it’s clear that he’s a lot stronger than he looks.

Momo blinks, tearing her gaze away to look at his face instead.

He’s not Takakura Ken. He’s not Takakura Ken. Okay, well, he is Takakura Ken, but he’s also your friend! Okarun! He’s not the Takakura Ken!

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Momo clenches her jaw, staring at him. Her heart is still racing, and she’s all confused in the head. Why won’t her hands stop sweating? And why can’t she speak?

“Don’t go—” she huffs. “Don’t go sayin’ stuff like that, Okarun,” she grumbles, walking forward as a blush spreads fast across her face. She only gets a few steps before she realizes that he’s not following her, and when she turns around, she finds that he’s trying to stifle a laugh. “What?”

“It’s nothing, Miss Ayase,” he giggles, adjusting his glasses. “You’re just… kind of adorable like that.”

Momo’s jaw drops as she stares at him, watching as he walks up to her and rights himself beside her. He seems completely unfazed by what he’s just said. Like he goes around saying that sort of stuff all the time. Here he is, walking her to and from school, having lunch with her, walking her home from work, and he says these kinds of things, and he’s kind, and he’s funny, and—

She clicks her tongue against her teeth.

“Whatever, you big nerd,” she grumbles. Then, a bit more softly, “Thanks…”

Okarun only smiles at her, and they continue the rest of the way home.

“Ayase.”

Momo looks up towards the classroom door from where she was chatting with her friends. Standing under the frame is Shiratori Aira — hand on her hip, chin lifted, and gaze set. There’s something… offensive about her stance, like she’s come here to pick a fight, and it has Momo feeling on edge.

“Yeah, what is it?” she asks.

“I know Takakura’s going to ask you to join him for lunch, so I just want you to come with me for a bit before,” is all Aira says in reply, walking off before she can get an answer.

“Like, what’s her problem?” Momo grumbles, standing up to follow her.

She quickly finds Aira’s pink hair in the crowd, heading off towards the school courtyard. Momo pushes her way through the hall of students, chatting with each other during their break, and makes her way outside.

Lunch is in a few hours, so a part of Momo is curious as to what could be so important that Aira had to come here on a break. Even more curiously, why did she decide to bring up Okarun and the fact that they eat lunch together?

Thinking back, she recalls how Aira had called him “Takakura.” His name. Momo flushes at the thought, immediately reminded of her celebrity crush, but she barely has time to swoon when she remembers that Aira’s also the only one who uses Okarun’s real name.

When she finally catches up to Aira, she’s standing next to a bench with her arms crossed. It’s been a couple of weeks or so since the whole Who’s the skank, skank?! ordeal, and while Momo still isn’t entirely used to Aira’s strange interpretation of friendship, she does respect how Aira seems to care less about her image and more about her friends. Even though they butt heads, she’s often walking alongside Jiji, Okarun, or Vamola, talking to them during breaks and meeting up with them at Momo’s place. It’s a sort of sister-like bond, Momo thinks, despite the fact that she’s never had a sister.

So, seeing Aira like this now, standing alone in the courtyard, looking completely, utterly distressed, Momo can’t help but ask, “What’s wrong?”

Aira stares at her, taking a deep breath. She holds it for a moment, keeping her chin high, but there’s a tremble in her lips and a gleam in her eyes. Is she crying or about to cry? Momo isn’t really sure what to expect, and a part of her won’t be surprised if Aira goes off on her, but then…

“Ayase Momo,” she says, squaring her shoulders. “I know you’re still struggling with your memory, and you’re slowly learning to, like, be our… friend, or whatever.”

The way she says “friend” is a little clipped, like categorizing Momo as a friend isn’t quite right. Momo internally scoffs, wondering where the hell she’s going with this.

“But—” Aira inhales, holding her hands to her chest. “—please. Just don’t hurt his feelings.”

Momo blinks, only able to stare.

Aira is staring back at her, her gaze set on determination, but there are cracks in her façade. Deep down, it’s clear that she’s cares, and she’s asking sincerely, but Momo is just a bit confused.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says.

Aira exhales a groan, dropping her hands. There’s a look of signature annoyance on her face, but her eyes still gleam with tears. “Listen, Ayase. I really, really like Takakura—”

Momo stuns, flinching at bit at the words. Something about them makes her heart pick up, and she finds herself feeling fiercely protective, despite the fact that she has no claim in this game. If Aira wants to like Okarun, it’s not like Momo has the authority to tell her to back off, but damn. She really wants to.

“—He’s, like, the greatest guy in this school,” she continues, completely unaware. “Do you get it?”

“Uh, I guess?” Momo asks, furrowing her brows. “Why are you telling me and not Okarun?”

Aira huffs, flipping some of her hair over her shoulder. She looks up into the sky, mumbling something to herself, then she drops her gaze to Momo, staring directly into her eyes.

“I can’t,” she says, her voice filled with frustration, but beneath it, there’s more. Resignation.

Momo looks at her, swallowing. “Why not?”

Aira starts to walk towards her, a sea of emotions swimming in her eyes. She’s beautiful. She’s popular. She’s well-loved by everyone, and out of all of the guys in this school, she chose Okarun. But here she is, standing before Momo, telling her that she won’t do a thing about it. Why wouldn’t she do anything about it?

When she reaches Momo, she’s not standing in front of her. She’s standing beside her, her gaze set forward, ready to walk off and leave Momo in the courtyard. Even in her demeanor, it’s clear that she’s upset, and as much as she tries to mask it, Momo can see that Aira is hurting. Even just saying the words, she’s hurting.

“Because he wouldn’t be happy with me,” she mumbles.

Then she walks off.

Momo sits between Jiji and Vamola at the dinner table, fighting with Aira for the bowl of rice so she can serve herself. It’s been a few days since Aira confessed her feelings towards Okarun to Momo, and since then, she’s effectively decided to pretend that it never happened. Still, every now and then, when Momo and Okarun are talking, she can feel Aira’s gaze on them, and it makes her feel a mix of emotions.

The biggest one being guilt.

Although, Momo supposes she has a lot to feel guilty for.

“Alright, alright, stop hoggin’ the rice, you pigs!” her grandma yells out, swatting at the back of her and Aira’s head with a napkin as she walks by. “There’s plenty of food. Just eat!”

“Thank you for having us over for dinner, ma’am,” Okarun says in between bites.

“Yeah, thanks!” Jiji beams. “Your cooking is the best!”

He finishes his sentence with a fist bump for good measure, earning a “Jiji, you’re so kind” from Momo’s grandma and another serving of rice. Vamola giggles, mimicking Jiji, and the group slowly settles with each other as they eat.

It’s a chaos that Momo isn’t really used to. Their first big dinner together since she’s lost her memories. The house is louder than it’s ever been, and there’s more than enough food to feed an entire village, but a part of her thinks that it’s nice.

They talk about different things — aliens and cryptids and yokai. It’s so weird to see Momo’s grandmother openly talking about aliens. As far as she knows, Momo’s never heard her grandma say that she believes in them. Not to mention, it’s still strange to see Jiji so into the occult. He and Okarun talk with one another about different cryptids and legends, and he even demonstrates how well he can control his chi by having Okarun, Aira, and Momo try to shove him over. To no avail.

It's a neat trick. Something that Momo has been able to do for as long as she can remember. Her grandmother has always been so strict about learning to control your chi, and a part of Momo feels vindicated to see Jiji into the very thing that she was once made fun of for.

Their evening continues loudly. Aira challenges Momo in some sort of card game, and Momo isn’t about to let someone like Aira beat her. It’s a shedding type of game, and they compete in multiple rounds, but they end up tying when they put together their final scores.

Even if Momo doesn’t really know these people like she used to, she feels a lot more comfortable with them now than ever. It’s something familiar. Even if her brain doesn’t remember it, her body tells her that this is her new normal. These are her friends — this wacky, jarring group of people. Momo, the most popular girl in school, a foreign exchange student, Momo’s childhood friend, and the school otaku.

It’s a funny group, but it’s a fun group.

“I can’t believe that it’s been over a month and still no sign of your memories,” Kei muses, staring at Momo with wide eyes. “Like, what are you going to do?”

Momo shrugs and sighs, leaning against her desk. “I guess only what I can do. Just keep going and hope they come back.”

“Yeah, but, like, what if that doesn’t work?” Miko asks. “Also, where’s Jiji?”

Glancing at the desk next to her, Momo can see that it’s empty. Her grandmother was also gone this morning, too. Left a note saying that she had a job somewhere. There was also no sign of Aira, nor Okarun.

“How should I know?” she grumbles. “Okarun’s gone, too.”

“Really?” Kei asks. “Didn’t walk ya to school?”

“Ugh, shut up. We all walk to school,” Momo says, waving her hand.

“Yeah, yeah,” Miko teases. “You walk with him now instead of us. We get it.”

Kei turns to her, fake whispering, “Crazy how she doesn’t remember anything from the last few months, yet Okarun’s still her favorite guy,” which causes Miko to giggle.

“Shut up!” Momo hisses, raising her head. “You guys are the worst! You’re always teasing me about him!”

“That’s because you’re so into him, girl,” Miko defends, pointing at her with her lipstick. “Don’t forget, we were there when you kissed.”

“When we what?!” Momo exclaims, sitting her. She looks to her friends for any indication of a joke, but Miko and Kei just smile back.

“In the courtyard, we totally saw it!” Kei beams. “You walked right into each other. Bam! Lip-on-lip action.”

Momo groans, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. “Guys, did we kiss, or did we run into each other?”

“Both,” they answer.

Momo feels her face flushing, hiding herself in the crook of her elbow as she leans back over the desk. She doesn’t know what the hell she’s feeling towards Okarun. It’s weird, because there’s still a whole other side to him that she doesn’t know. A side to the rest of her friends that she’s completely unaware of.

Everyone keeps dancing around supernatural topics when it comes to Momo. She still doesn’t get why Jiji suddenly believes in ghosts or why her grandma believes in aliens. There’s also the fact that there are times when they’ll sort of just… disappear, and no one knows where they’ve gone or what for.

This is one of those times, leaving Momo to fend for herself as she walks to and from school. That also means she spends lunch in her class, which is fine, because she loves Kei and Miko, but a part of her really likes those rooftop lunches with Okarun, too.

“Look at her,” Miko says. “She’s daydreaming about her man.”

“Falling in love with him all over again,” Kei agrees. “So romantic.”

“Miss Ayase!”

Momo finds herself smiling at the sound of Okarun’s voice, turning in its direction before she can even spot the owner.

He’s running up to her, wearing his school uniform, but she hasn’t seen him all day. There’s also a bandage on his cheek and one on the back of his hand, which she’s pretty sure he didn’t have before.

Still, she’s happy to see him.

“Okarun! Where were you today?”

“I had to take care of something in the first half of the day,” he explains, reaching her. “That’s why I was gone. Where’s Vamola?”

“She’s already started to head home,” Momo replies. “I have work today.”

“That’s right,” Okarun says, hitting his forehead. “I forgot about that. Do you want me to walk you to your job?”

“I don’t… mind…” Momo mumbles, playing with a strand of her hair. “But, like, what were you doing today?”

“Oh, I was working,” he answers casually.

“What, like a job?” she asks, incredulous.

Okarun thinks for a moment. “Sort of like that, yeah. Jiji and Miss Shiratori, too.”

“You all work together?” Momo’s tone falls flat. Deadpan. “Seriously?”

“It’s a sort of on-call type of thing,” Okarun explains. “Kind of irregular.”

Momo only hums, thinking back to all the things she still doesn’t understand. Sure, they’re her friends, and she feels like she’s a part of the group, but there’s still just so much she doesn’t know. There’s so much that she’s being kept in the dark about, and while she knows that it’ll come back to her, she hates how left out she feels.

“Anyway, that doesn’t matter now,” he says, jolting her. “I’m much happier here with you.”

Momo swallows, looking ahead as they walk side by side.

That’s the thing about Okarun lately. He’s so honest with his thoughts and feelings, and he’s not afraid to share them with Momo. She’s not sure if he knows what he’s doing to her, but recently, every time they speak, she feels her heart beating out of her chest, and her mind goes blank, and her hands feel sweaty, and it’s hard to breathe.

Kei and Miko can tease her all they want, but whatever she and Okarun were before, it doesn’t matter now.

Now, Momo loses herself with every moment she spends with him.

She can’t help how she feels. How excited she is to see him. How much she wants to spend time with him. How she never wants to say goodbye to him. Okarun is so unlike any other guy that she’s ever met, and despite all of her preconceived notions of what she might have thought of him before, the guy she knows now is just… so much more.

He’s strong.

He’s genuine.

He’s caring.

He might not always be able to speak what’s on his mind, but he still finds a way to communicate it. If not through words, then through action. Isn’t what’s always mattered to her more? Him both showing and telling her that he cares about her. That she’s important to him. That he’s an authentic guy. Someone who is kind and is so unapologetically himself that people still love him for it.

A small gasp escapes from her lips as she continues to look at the path ahead. Where is it leading her now? To her job, where Okarun will later pick her up and walk her home, despite the fact that it’s past ten at night. Despite the fact that he has to then walk home himself. Despite the fact that he has school in the morning, too.

That’s the thing about Okarun. How he’s so himself. It’s just such an Okarun thing to do — putting Momo first, making sure that she’s the one getting home safe, letting her feel comfortable and even uncomfortable as she tries to regain her memories. Not once did he ever pressure her or beg her to remember. While everyone else looked at her with pity, mourning her past, Okarun just smiled and told her to live in her present.

She doesn’t know how she could be so stupid. Somewhere, in her self-pity, she missed all of the signs that were right in front of her all along.

Of course, she thinks.

As she walks next to Okarun, who’s talking about an assignment he and Vamola have been working on, she steals a glance, catching his profile and the way that his eyes shine in the light. In the midafternoon, there’s this sort of energy around him. The way that he walks and carries himself, talking to Momo unabashedly and comfortably, it’s clear as day.

Okarun doesn’t move through the world.

The world moves around him.

And at the center of all the things he could have, he’s here. With Momo.

Because he’s decided that she’s the most important thing to him.

You’re such an idiot, Momo.

How could you not know you love him?

When Okarun shows up at Momo’s work, ready to walk her home, she doesn’t mention how she kept stumbling over her words at work. Or how she fidgeted nervously every chance she got. Or how she forgot not one, not two, but three drink orders and had to correct them for each table.

She doesn’t mention how she had to apologize profusely to her manager, promising that she’ll never mess up like that again. Her manager was sweet about it, telling her that we all have those days, but she still hates how badly she screwed up.

But she doesn’t mention any of it to Okarun.

Because Okarun is the exact reason why.

They walk together through the city lights, letting the streetlamps and office buildings and markets illuminate their paths. It’s a cool night, with a light breeze and a slight chill. Momo shivers in her school uniform, pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her hands as she and Okarun make their way to her house.

He’s talking to her about something. Maybe it’s something having to do with his workouts, as he’s explaining the technique of some sort of curl. Momo doesn’t really know what he’s saying, and if she had to be honest, she’s not really paying attention.

No, all of her focus is instead set on the fact that she can’t look at Okarun, or she’ll die. She can’t hear him say her name, or she’ll die. She can’t listen to his laugh, feel his touch, or watch the way that he nervously plays with his hair in a similar manner to how she does with hers; otherwise, she’s pretty sure that she’ll trip and fall and hit her head on the street and die.

“Miss Ayase, you look really cold,” Okarun comments, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I’m okay,” she lies, hunching over. It’s a horrible lie.

Okarun knows it, so he quickly digs around in his duffle bag and pulls out a hoodie, tossing it her way. She’s already wearing a sweater, but the material of his hoodie feels thick, and it smells like him. Like fresh laundry with a hint of mint. Okarun is already back to talking about anything and everything, and Momo barely listens as she pulls the sweater over her head, letting the scent drown her as she slowly inhales.

Her heart’s racing faster than ever before.

Yep. This is how she dies.

It’s got her head feeling all woozy. Light and airy. She buries her face into the collar of the hoodie the best she can, and she loves how it fits her. Just loose enough to swallow her up, but not so big that it makes her feel like she’s wearing a dress. It never occurred to her that this could be the kind of guy that has her swooning, and yet, as Okarun continues to lead the way back to her home, she can’t help but think that this guy is it.

He’s the real deal.

She’s been searching for a Takakura Ken her entire life, and then someone with the same name is more like Takakura Ken than any lookalike could ever hope to be. Her heart rushes even thinking about it. Even thinking about him. Okarun. He’s just so… so…

“Hey, Okarun,” she says.

He stops mid-conversation, blinking at her. “Yeah? What is it?”

Momo continues to look ahead, her hands shoved into the pocket of his hoodie, hiding the bottom half of her face in the collar. “Do you… do you like anyone?”

There’s a beat of silence. A moment where Okarun takes a moment to digest the question. Then, slowly, he asks, “Why?”

“I just—” she shrugs, avoiding his eyes. “—wanna know.”

It’s quiet again. Different from the silence that she’s gotten used to with Okarun. This silence is more weighted. Tense. It’s his answer without him even saying a word. He doesn’t need to now. Not when the silence feels like this.

“Sorry, but…” his voice is low and quiet. So unlike his conversation from before. He sounds… sad. “I don’t think I can say.”

Momo presses her lips together, fighting the urge to cry. Even as she walks, she can feel her eyes brimming with tears, and all she can manage is, “Oh. Okay. I get it.”

Okarun stops walking, causing Momo to pause, too. He’s a few steps behind her, not moving or saying anything, but she can only continue to face forward, unsure if she can face him now. She’s only known him for a couple of months, yet she feels so much when she’s with him. To have him tell her that he does like someone, Momo just doesn’t know if she can face him.

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” he says, taking a step forward.

Momo’s shoulders tense, and suddenly the scent of Okarun’s hoodie is no longer sweet. It invades her nostrils, reminding her that she’s wearing his sweater, and he doesn’t like her back. He doesn’t like her back.

“No, it’s alright,” she bites. “I get it.”

She starts to take a step forward, but a hand catches her by the arm, rooting her in place. Anger and hurt swell inside of her, and she spins around, ready to tell him off, but everything stops when she sees the look in his eyes.

It’s so desperate. The way that he’s looking at her. Through his round glasses, he stares, heaving like he can’t breathe. It’s like watching the earth fall apart. Like when a waterfall causes a rock to slide. She can see it breaking away, tumbling down, cracking and crumbling, and all she can think is that this is her fault.

“Miss Ayase, I made a promise that I wouldn’t say anything until…” he swallows, still forcing himself to look her in the eye. Those big, round, brown eyes. Like autumn leaves in the changing season. Like cinnamon sticks in a melting candle. Warm and cozy and so, so sad.

“Until what?” she whispers.

Okarun inhales through his nose, not letting her arm go. Instead, he slides his hand down towards her wrist, his fingers brushing over her palm. Momo stares, breath hitched, unable to move, unwilling to push him away, and when he finally takes her hand in his, it feels like she can breathe again. Their fingers aren’t even interlocked, but — God — she can breathe again.

“I promised that I wouldn’t say anything until you were back,” Okarun answers, squeezing her hand. “You were on that trip, and I wasn’t there with you. I was supposed to tell you when you came back, but…”

But she lost her memory.

Momo looks down at her hand, resting in his. It feels so warm. Soft. The way that their hands fit together is sort of like looking at two pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place. Everything about it feels right, and her heart flutters the more she stares.

This is it, right?

All but a confession.

“Who did you promise that to?” she asks, still looking at their hands.

Okarun lets out a small, dry laugh. “Who do you think?”

Momo presses her lips together, smiling a little, and squeezes his hand. “Can I override it?”

He jumps a bit, but his grip tightens, and even as he speaks, she can hear a waver in his voice:

“You can do anything.”

Don’t tell me that, she thinks. Not until I know for sure.

It’s so cold outside, but right now, she feels so warm. They’re standing in the middle of some market, with the shops all closed and not a soul in sight. Different colored lights flash and twinkle around them, reminding her of the stars in the sky that she can never see from the city. If she pretends that she’s back at home, she can see the stars better there.

But she also thinks she can see the stars in Okarun’s eyes when she finally brings herself to meet his gaze.

“Tell me this,” she orders. “If I had come back from that trip, and I didn’t lose my memories, what would you have said?”

Okarun stares at her, still holding onto her hand like it’s the only thing keeping him rooted here. In this conversation. There are constellations in the lights that twinkle in his eyes, but all she can really see is herself, gazing at him like he’s the only thing that matters. In a way, right now, he is. And as the rest of the market and the city fall away, the lights blurring into one beautiful bokeh of color, she finds that she doesn’t ever need to see the stars again. As long as she can keep looking into Okarun’s eyes.

He takes a deep breath, bringing his other hand to rest gently on top of hers. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion — the soft press of his other palm, the way that his mouth opens to finally speak, and the slow, anticipating inhale of her lungs.

A pause.

An exhale.

“Ayase Momo,” Okarun says. “I love you.”

It’s an explosion.

Before, it was sound. A burst of a million things hitting her eardrums all at once. Momo had stood there, looking at Okarun, as he told her his full name, and she all but collapsed as every thing in the world came rushing at her, reminding her that she was in the middle of the city. Alive and thriving. Loud and brash.

This explosion is an explosion of color.

It’s every light that surrounds her suddenly becoming saturated and bright. It’s the bokeh of the distant lights, sharpening in her view — vibrant and polychromatic. Momo stares into Okarun’s eyes and not only sees the stars in the night sky but every galaxy to ever exist.

It’s late at night, but everything feels bright. It feels like the sun shining down on her, like a rainbow has cast itself over her — a shower of light and energy. Swirling, burning colors — everything she could ever imagine — right there in the gaze of the boy before her.

Momo doesn’t even know what she’s doing when she pulls him forward, letting him stumble into her. He tries to catch himself, but both of his hands are holding onto hers, and all he can really do is grab her arms to keep them from hitting the ground.

As soon as his chest hits her, she reaches up, grabbing his face, and pulls him into a kiss.

It’s like there’s a whoosh of air between them, surging from the touch of their lips, blowing her hair back as it travels out from where they stand. Okarun stalls for a moment, stiff and surprised, but when she tilts her head, he melts with her and kisses her back.

She holds onto his cheeks, pulling him forward until he can’t move any closer, and when that stops working, her hands shift, tangling themselves in his hair. Soft. Just as she thought it would be. Okarun holds her tightly, one hand resting on the small of her back and the other just between her shoulder blades. He steadies her, letting her lean into him, and he kisses her like it’s something he’s been waiting for.

Electricity surges through her, lighting every single one of her nerves on fire. Momo can feel her cheeks getting wet from crying, though she doesn’t understand why. As she continues to kiss Okarun, she cries more, as energy continues to make its way from her heart throughout the rest of her body, all the way up to her head.

Then it hits her.

An explosion.

A flash of memories. Too fast to process, yet the information still registers.

A classroom full of guys throwing paper balls at a kid sitting alone with a book. Moments where she feared for her life, but there he was, standing between her and death, ready to protect her with everything he’s got. Laughing together on the way to school, holding hands on the way back home, leaning on each other in the back of the car, too tired to move, too tired to care.

There are moments where they’re bickering. Moments where they’re laughing. Flashes of them flirting and fighting and fighting together all hit Momo at once, and then there’s the big wall of emotion that nearly knocks her on her ass.

Momo gasps, breaking away from the kiss, blinking and heaving, trying to catch her breath. Okarun startles, holding onto her, but when he sees that she’s crying, he immediately steps away.

“Miss Ayase!” he cries, holding his hands up. “I’m so sorry, I—”

“Okarun,” she chokes out. She hates how cold she feels now. The distance between her and him is too great, and she finds herself reaching out, barely able to step forward, but he’s there in an instant, grabbing her arms.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, leaning close to her face. “Was it— I mean, did I—?”

Momo shakes her head, pulling him into a tight hug. She cries into his shoulder, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Okarun stiffens, unsure if he should hug her back, but slowly, he wraps his arms around her, rubbing soft circles into her shoulders.

“I’m— sorry—” she chokes, clinging to his shirt. “I’m so sorry.”

Okarun shushes her softly, whispering into her ear, “It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry if it was something I said. I don’t ever want to make you—”

“No,” she interrupts, tightening her grip. “I’m sorry.”

She pulls back just enough to look him in the eye.

God, those eyes.

How could she ever forget them?

“I’m sorry I forgot our promise.”

Okarun stares at her, worry clear on his face. While the words process, she can see the gears turning in his head, the slow realization of what she’s saying. What she’s hinting at.

“You—” he stops himself, holding her closer. “Momo?”

She lets out a laugh. More of a relieved sigh, really. Something between a laugh and a gasp. Okarun looks back at her, a smile slowly creeping, and all she can say is, “You called me ‘Momo.’”

Okarun laughs, too. A short bark of disbelief and relief. He clings to her, bringing a hand up to the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair. “Oh my god.”

They’re both standing there, under all of the lights in the city, the stars in the sky, and the galaxies in the universe and beyond. Momo smiles at Okarun, feeling a rush of emotion as everything starts to click back into place — who she is, who he is, and what he means to her. The memories come flooding back to the point where it’s kind of overwhelming, but his grip keeps her grounded, supporting her.

“I told you I’d come back, you dummy,” Momo says, hugging him again.

Okarun holds her, nosing his way to her shoulder, and lets out a small laugh. “I knew you would, Miss Ayase.”