Tokyo Station
The towering steel-and-glass architecture of Tokyo Station buzzed with movement. Crowds surged through the gates, dragging luggage, calling out to companions, and checking boards blinking with arrivals and departures. The faint sound of train horns echoed through the vast halls, blending with the distant hum of announcements.
Amidst the crowd, Riku and Mei stood side by side on Platform 13, waiting for the Shinkansen that would take them back to Kyoto.
Riku wore a dark jacket and had a backpack slung over one shoulder. Mei stood beside him, dressed warmly, hands wrapped around a can of hot cocoa from a vending machine.
Mei glanced at him. "Feels weird going back after all that."
Riku nodded slowly, eyes watching the rails. "Yeah. The tournament… Sol, Yumi… That restaurant… Felt like everything just snapped."
A beat passed.
"I still had fun," Mei said quietly, nudging his arm.
He looked at her. "I did too."
She smiled, then turned away slightly as the chilly breeze swept through the station. Her scarf fluttered.
"Do you think things will go back to normal?" she asked.
Riku was quiet for a second, then replied, "No. But that's okay. We train harder. We focus. Next time, nothing knocks us off track."
The intercom buzzed:
"Shinkansen to Kyoto arriving on Platform 13. Please stand behind the yellow line."
Lights appeared in the distance. The sleek white train pierced through the fog of the early morning, slowing as it neared.
Mei's eyes sparkled as she looked at it. "I love bullet trains."
Riku smiled faintly. "Of course you do. You love anything fast."
She looked at him teasingly. "Except for you. You're always ten steps behind in romance."
He blinked. "That so?"
The train slid to a stop with a low hiss. The doors opened.
As people filed in, Riku reached out and gently took Mei's hand. She paused, startled, and looked up at him.
"No more being slow," he said softly.
Mei's cheeks flushed pink. "Good."
They boarded together, hand in hand, the doors sliding closed behind them. Outside the window, Tokyo Station slowly drifted away as the train pulled forward—racing them into the next chapter.
The Shinkansen glided into Kyoto Station, smooth and silent. The doors opened with a soft hiss, releasing a gentle breeze into the train car. Riku and Mei stepped out onto the platform, still hand in hand. The air was cooler here—less urban noise, more tradition in the air. The distinct scent of Kyoto drifted in: a mix of crisp autumn wind, old stone, and distant temple incense.
Mei looked up at the sky, which was beginning to turn orange with the late afternoon sun. "Back to where it all started."
Riku gave a soft nod, tightening the strap on his shoulder bag. "Feels calmer already."
They walked through the station together, past familiar noodle stalls, vending machines, and tourists snapping photos of signs in kanji. As they exited the main gates, the golden rays of Kyoto's sunset bathed the old city in warmth.
Outside, the streets were quieter. Buses rolled past slowly. A group of students biked by in uniform. A small dog barked from a balcony.
Mei looked sideways at Riku. "So… do we head home, or go somewhere first?"
Riku glanced toward the narrow streets leading toward the river. "We could grab taiyaki on the way."
Mei smirked. "You're trying to bribe me into forgetting that you dropped that girl's plate, aren't you?"
He chuckled, looking down. "Maybe."
She bumped into his side playfully. "Fine. But you're paying."
They laughed softly, blending into the flow of Kyoto's peaceful rhythm. For now, the noise of Tokyo and the chaos of the tournament were behind them. In front of them? A quiet path… and a storm yet to come.
The quiet residential neighborhood welcomed them with stillness and memory.
Riku and Mei walked side by side down a narrow street lined with lantern-lit houses. The warm glow of paper lanterns hung from gates, swaying gently with the evening breeze. The familiar gravel under their shoes crunched softly—a sound only Kyoto could offer.
They stopped at a small two-story house tucked between a garden wall and a maple tree just starting to turn red.
Riku exhaled. "Feels like we've been gone for months."
Mei smiled, her eyes soft. "Everything looks the same... but we've changed."
He unlocked the door and pushed it open. The faint smell of tatami greeted them. The house was clean but quiet, like it had been waiting.
They took off their shoes and stepped inside.
Mei wandered toward the living room while Riku dropped their bags by the entrance. She opened the shoji screen and looked out into the small backyard garden. The stone lanterns, the koi pond, the sakura tree—they were all there.
"It's peaceful," she said.
Riku walked over and stood beside her. "Yeah... too peaceful."
She leaned her head on his shoulder. "We earned it. Even if it's just for one night."
He nodded, then whispered, "I'm glad I came back with you."
Mei looked up at him, eyes glimmering. "Next time... let's win everything. Together."
Their fingers interlocked again.
The quiet Kyoto night wrapped around them like a warm blanket. Tomorrow, training would begin again. But tonight, they were just two souls home at last.
The kitchen was filled with the gentle sounds of simmering soup and sizzling meat.
Mei stood at the stove, tying her hair back as she stirred the miso. Riku sat at the table, slicing some vegetables—carefully, though slightly awkwardly.
"You're slow with a knife," Mei teased, smiling over her shoulder.
"I'm a point guard, not a chef," Riku replied, narrowing his eyes at a stubborn carrot. "But I can slice defenses better than I can slice radishes."
She giggled. "You're lucky you're cute."
Riku gave a mock sigh. "Flirting while I'm holding a knife? Dangerous."
Soon, they had a small feast ready: miso soup, grilled mackerel, steamed rice, and pickled vegetables. Simple, warm, comforting—home.
They sat across from each other, knees touching under the low table.
"It's been a while since we had a meal like this," Mei said softly, hands clasped before her dish.
"Yeah. No noise. No lights. No pressure."
They began eating. Halfway through, Mei picked a small piece of fish with her chopsticks and reached across.
"Say 'ahh.'"
Riku raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Seriously?"
She nodded.
"...Ahh." He opened his mouth, and she fed him.
"Good?" she asked.
"Better than Tokyo," he murmured.
Mei blushed lightly, then suddenly reached out and swiped a bit of rice from the corner of his lips with her finger. "Messy."
"Or maybe I just wanted your attention."
They both smiled.
The meal continued slowly—quiet laughter, soft glances, a few seconds of silence that felt like hours of peace.
Outside, the Kyoto moon was rising. Inside, warmth spread not just through the food, but through two hearts finally resting.
The dishes had been washed. The lights in the kitchen dimmed. Outside the window, Kyoto's quiet streets rested under the glow of a pale moon. The cicadas sang their lullaby in the distance.
Riku sat on the edge of the bed, drying his hair with a towel after a shower. Mei stepped out of the bathroom, her hair down and damp, wearing an oversized white shirt—probably his.
She walked over, a little shyly, and sat beside him.
"Tired?" she asked, her voice soft.
"A bit," Riku replied, tilting his head to look at her. "But you look like peace."
Mei smiled, resting her head gently on his shoulder. "Being with you feels like home."
For a moment, they just sat there. No noise. Just heartbeats.
Then, Riku reached for her hand. "It still feels surreal. That you're here. That I get to see this version of you—calm, happy, safe."
Mei leaned into him more, eyes closed. "Because of you, Riku. When I was lost, you brought me back."
He turned, cupped her cheek, and kissed her forehead. "Then I'll keep doing it… again and again."
Their eyes met—close, warm, and full of unspoken love.
Mei leaned forward, pressing her lips to his—gentle, slow, lingering. No rush. No tension. Just years of connection, blooming softly under the moonlight.
The night grew deeper. The world outside faded, leaving only the quiet comfort of two souls resting in each other's presence.
Soft rays of sunlight filtered through the white curtains, painting golden lines across the room. Birds chirped faintly outside, the city of Kyoto slowly waking up.
Riku stirred first, eyes blinking open to the warm morning light. For a few seconds, he just lay still—listening to the silence, feeling the weight of the moment.
Mei was curled beside him, her head resting against his shoulder, one hand gently clutching his shirt. Her breathing was light, steady, peaceful.
He smiled.
He reached out carefully, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face. "You look even more beautiful when you're not teasing me every five seconds," he whispered with a grin.
She stirred lightly, then opened one eye. "Caught you staring."
"Can you blame me?"
Mei yawned and stretched like a cat before collapsing back into the covers. "Too early to be charming, Tensai."
Riku chuckled, getting up. "Alright. I'll make breakfast."
"No," she mumbled, grabbing his arm. "Five more minutes. Just stay."
He paused, then lay back down beside her. They stayed like that—quiet, close, and unhurried. No tournaments. No pressure. Just morning light, soft sheets, and the rhythm of two hearts in sync.
Mei whispered, "Let's have more mornings like this."
Riku replied, "We will."