After Prière of Departure, we went to Kyoto Tree near the station. We had until evening before going to my grandparents’ — sightseeing first.
“Beautiful view.”
“Yeah — and there’s Kiyomizu-dera. Quintessential Kyoto.”
“Says you can see Osaka direction — let’s take it in.”
We were in the 11th-floor observation room. 360-degree views. While wandering, I noticed something odd.
“Tsuririn Shrine? Why a shrine here?”
“Mascot Tsuririn-themed, installed for Kyoto Tree’s 100th anniversary. Highest shrine in Kyoto.”
“Wow, an actual shrine.”
(I had no idea. Tokyo Tree apparently has Tree Daijingu too.)
“How did you know about this?”
“Was a place I wanted to come, same as Prière of Departure.”
”…Romance benefits?”
“Yep — love and good-match.”
Of course. As I was thinking, she’d already bought an ema (votive plaque) — clearly fully intending to write.
“What are you going to write?”
“Counter-question — what would you want me to write?”
(This is a trap.) “Uh — that Yuito and Kano can stay friends?”
“How about: for all eternity, in every reincarnation across every universe, past and future, may Yuki Kano and Kujo Yuito stay forever close.”
“That has a lot of additions.”
“Same meaning, basically.”
“Please look up basically.”
“Yes, yes.”
She wrote it anyway. Her handwriting is beautiful — the text had real impact.
”…You’re really going to hang it?”
“Yep — wrote it for that.”
“Anyone reading it will be concerned…”
(She does direct very intense feelings at me. If I rejected her, goodbye messages followed by stabbing — I briefly imagined it. She wouldn’t, but the relationship would change. The thought ached.)
“Lunch?”
“Restaurant.”
We took the elevator to the 3rd floor — Tree Terrace, buffet style. Despite being popular, off-peak meant immediate seating.
“View through the window is gorgeous.”
“Yeah, evening is even more popular.”
(Wine-glass-with-view shots would slay on social, but we’re both under 20.)
“Let’s go get food.”
We picked our plates. (Plenty of sweets too.)
”…Oh — this fried rice has shrimp.”
“Right, you’ve been shrimp-allergic since forever.”
She’d missed it embedded in the rice and froze. (She’d been shrimp-averse since childhood.)
“Wasteful to leave — eat it for me?”
“Sure.”
“Here — ahn.”
”…What?”
She had scooped it onto her spoon and lifted it to my mouth.
“You said you’d eat it.”
“I’d eat it — but ahn is bad. That’s an indirect kiss.”
“Indirect kisses are nothing — kids do them all the time.”
“This isn’t then.”
(Kid-me didn’t see Kano romantically; now-me does — bad on multiple fronts.)
“We’re not about to kiss or have sex right now — just open up.”
”…Fine.”
I gave in. She fed me with a satisfied expression. (I tasted nothing.)