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The chosen cake was a strawberry sponge, decorated in a decadent layer of berry jam and swirls of fluffy whipped cream. Its cost was exuberant and when Mitsuba placed the first slice on Josuke’s plate, he rushed out of the parlour.
“Yasuho-chan!” He didn’t need to yell, he would have found her quickly through the crowd. Both by her pink hair, or by her clothes, or by the simple fact that they drew towards each other in a way that felt so automatic, it was muscle memory. He didn’t need to yell, but he did. “Yasuho-chan!”
He saw a flash of pink and then Paisley Park reared her head, metres above everybody else, and waved a maroon arm. Yasuho hadn’t gotten farther than the block and stopped at Paisley Park’s intrusion, turned around. When Josuke came up to her, he saw her eyes were red rimmed, but they met his gaze unfailingly.
“Josuke.”
Without another word, they threw their arms around one another. Like magnets, like the tide that once enraptured Kira Yoshikage, their bodies slotted together. Josuke could feel her tremble, and his hands did not know whether to loosen their grip or hold her tighter. But she did not cry, and he was glad for it, as he could never hold his own tears back when she did.
“Why did you go?”
She sniffled, nose pressed against his shoulder, close enough that it was on top of his star birthmark. “That was a gathering for family. I am not part of that family,” she said into his skin.
“But you are part of mine.” His fingers parted through her hair, brushed over her round hair clips. “There is no Josuke without Yasuho.”
“That’s not true.” She squeezed him tighter, a sigh escaping her. “But thank you.”
They pulled apart, only so that they could look at one another.
“How about after, then?” His hands were on her elbows. “Do you have any other plans? Can I see you?”
Yasuho nodded, and Josuke was surprised to see Paisley Park peer over her shoulder at him.
“I can meet you at your house, if you aren’t going anywhere.”
“That sounds-” They were interrupted by a buzzing, and both couldn’t help share a worried glance as Yasuho raised her phone. “A message,” she murmured and activated her screen.
Josuke stayed quiet, letting go of her arms. He watched as Yasuho’s eyes widened and she abruptly put the phone in a pocket.
“Everything alright?”
“Yes, yes, fine.” She haphazardly flicked her hand behind her shoulder, causing Paisley Park to dematerialise immediately. “Uh, what did we say? Yes, my place, later.”
She seemed flustered and her cheeks as well as the tips of her ears were dusted pink. Josuke thought she looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her.
“Alright.” He smiled. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”
He reached for her hand, that was warm and small against his, and gave it a squeeze.
Cakes and tears gave way to a golden afternoon, with a heavy sun that lay low in a clear sky. By the time the Higashikata’s were able to part, and Josuke caught a bus, his watch said 5:21pm. It was 5:34pm when he knocked on the front door of the Hirose’s house.
There was no response for a moment, although he could hear the tv playing, and Josuke knocked his head to the side before, with a flutter of footsteps, the door was pulled open.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hello.” Yasuho had changed, her usual singlet switched for an oversized sweater, pink with cherries on it. She looked tired, and somewhat sheepish, giving him a small wave. “There’s, um, nobody else here right now. Want to come in?”
He did, carefully taking off his shoes at the step. Although he had been to Yasuho’s house before, they had always been short visits and he had never properly been asked to spend time there. In fact, as he was taken in, he realised he never actually asked that he could go to her house. He had only said he would meet her there.
“Yasuho-chan,” he said, stopping her mid turn. “Is it okay for me to be here? We did not say specifically we must be at your house.”
He regretted the words immediately as Yasuho’s face fell and something very fragile replaced her smile.
“It’s quite dirty and small, isn’t it,” she said, hiding her hands in her sleeves. “I never really have people come over because of it. Even without mum here. It’s okay, let’s go.”
“No.” He reached for her, like the tide, and wrapped his fingers around her wrists, over her sweater. “I did not say that. I want to be here with you. I had not planned for any other place for us to go after we were to see each other again.”
“But — but it isn’t—”
“It is a fine house, Yasuho-chan, because it is your house. And I wish to spend time with you.” His thumb rubbed over the material.
The tension seemed to abate. “If you say so.” Her mouth lost its downward turn. “I suppose we will think of something to do.”
He gave her an encouraging smile. “I would like to see your room.”
“It isn’t anything special,” she said with a blush, averting his eyes.
“Of course it is. It’s yours.”
“Josuke, you—” She cut herself off, biting her cheek. “You really say the most ridiculous things.”
Josuke didn’t really understand it, but her face was smiling again so he decided he should remember to tell her more ridiculous things instead. Still holding her hand, he followed her up the stairs and into her room.
‘Something’ ended up watching videos on Yasuho’s phone for a quarter of an hour, and then her going through her photos to show something and accidentally opening a candid picture of Rai she had taken back on the sky-lift and the both of them unable to stop the tears that came with it. They curled on Yasuho’s small bed, the same she had owned since childhood, crying into each other’s shoulders until the sun’s golden rays simmered into the violets of dusk.
They didn’t speak much about it, nothing more coherent than a few phrases, a few regrets. Nobody so young could prepare themselves for that much death. Even Josuke, who had only started living his own memories, could not dislodge the heavy feeling that lay upon him whenever he thought of Rai on the the hospital floor. He pressed his fingers against his cheek, where scars from the rocks remained, and Yasuho clutched at her right arm like she thought it was to be torn off again.
It was a misery neither of them knew how to handle.
When the tears subsided, Josuke hiccupped. They were coiled around one another, Yasuho’s face against the base of his neck, one hand pressed to his chest and the other on his waist. She had stopped heaving, and her breathing had levelled out and calmed.
Josuke hiccupped again, right into her ear, and Yasuho flinched and giggled.
“Sorry,” he said. “I can’t seem to stop them.”
Another hiccup, and another giggle, and Yasuho pulled away enough that they could look each other in the eye when they spoke.
“What a bunch of cry babies we are,” she said with a smile, her face flushed and eyelashes dark with moisture. “I used to think I was bad, but you’re worse.”
“I can’t help it.” A last few tears slid down his cheeks. “And besides, whenever you cry, I cry.”
“Oh, it was a compliment.” Yasuho wiped his wet cheeks with a thumb. “I’ve grown fond of it, although I think we are just bad influences on each other.”
Josuke hiccupped. Yasuho laughed, bumping her forehead lightly into his chin.
“I think it is time for an intervention.” She unfurled herself from him, and Josuke made a disapproving sound. “Give me a second. I’ll go grab us something from the kitchen.”
She vanished with a flurry of her cherry sweater. Josuke hiccupped into the empty room and raised himself onto his elbows to wipe his face with a shoulder. He missed her warmth, her closeness, the way that she smelled of berry lip-gloss. Although many things about the world yet eluded him, he knew exactly what his feelings were.
With another hiccup, he rolled himself off the bed, curiously looking around Yasuho’s bedroom. It was very cute, he decided, small and relatively neat. A handful of plush toys decorated the bed head and her desk, the laptop there covered in stickers. An unopened packet of pocky lay on a stack of manga.
By the end of the bed was a full length mirror and Josuke stood in front of it. He leaned close, peering carefully at his reflection, and swallowed a final hiccup.
“A feast of kings coming right up.” Pushing the door open with her hip, Yasuho flourished a packet of prawn crisps and two bottles of iced tea. “Haven’t gone shopping yet this week, so it’s the best I can do.”
“Thank you, Yasuho-chan.” He took a sip of the sweet tea, peach flavoured, and hummed. “It’s yummy.”
“Always is.” She grinned at him.
“Yasuho-chan.” He put the bottle down on the bed. “Could you come and stand here, please?”
She stepped over, setting aside her own drink and chips. Shoulder to shoulder, she was only a couple of inches shorter than him.
She gave him a look in their reflection, and brushed her fingers over his hand. “What’s up?”
He pointed at the mirror, leaning close. “You can see so clearly that my eyes are different,” he said, pressing on his cheeks and tugging on the skin. “The two irises, the two colours. Kira’s dark eyes and Josefumi’s light. It’s weird, isn’t it?”
Yasuho shrugged. “People buy coloured contacts and get surgery now to try and stand out. It isn’t a bad thing. And besides—” She gave an embarrassed smile. “I wear contacts myself, remember?”
“Why do you do that?”
She gestured vaguely with a hand. “Mum always said glasses make a woman look hideous. Stupid thing, I know, but it stuck with me when I was a kid.”
Josuke frowned. “It isn’t true.”
“I know,” she said quickly. “But, whatever. I always forget to put them on anyway.”
“Are you wearing them now?”
Yasuho shook her head. “Bad for crying,” she said, smiling as she did. “But I don’t think your eyes look that weird. They’re nice.”
“Really?” He looked at her reflection, as her face turned pink. “Thank you.”
She tucked her hands behind her back, bouncing up on her heels.
“Oh,” said Josuke. “Look at this.”
Curling a finger under his top lip, he bared his teeth.
“My right canine is sharper than my left,” he managed. “It wasn’t just the gap that came with the equivalent exchange.”
He took his hand away.
“Yasuho-chan, could you show me your tongue?”
“Excuse me?”
“Could you show me your tongue? Please?”
Yasuho gave him a curious look, one eyebrow raised, before shrugging her shoulders. “I suppose I have been asked worse,” she said, and stuck her tongue out.
Cute, thought Josuke.
“Now,” he said. “Look at mine.”
Even in the fainting light of the evening, the scar dividing his tongue was evident. He saw the eyes in Yasuho’s mirror image widen, her own pink tongue quickly disappearing.
“There are other things,” he said after a moment. “The more I learn my body, the more I notice. Scars that I didn’t gain, discolouration of the skin. My left ear has an attached earlobe but not my right. I think Josefumi had a small tattoo on his left shoulder. I have a bruise there that never leaves.”
The very thoughts were baseless. He would never know them, never understand what went on in their heads. Except in the few photos he had seen, Kira and Josefumi were phantoms to him, existing just out of reach. The more he tried to grasp for them, the farther he was from himself, and ghosts did not talk back in Morioh.
His hand brushed over the scars on his face.
“You know, if you are trying to convince me you are weird or different, you’re doing an awful job of it.”
Josuke looked at Yasuho, who had crossed her arms.
“I wasn’t trying to convince you,” he said lightly. “I just am.”
“You’re you — Josuke. You said so yourself.” Her brows met in a serious frown. “Your own memories in your own body. That’s what you said.”
“Yes, my own memories, but only from my conception. I have no foundation, Yasuho-chan. No parents, no childhood.” He gestured at his reflection. “A body that I barely know. How do I build my memories from that?”
From the moment he opened his eyes to the world, only two things had been constants. Questions, and Yasuho.
A breath escaped him when warm fingers touched his cheek.
“Look at me, Josuke.”
He did, knowing full well it was a request he would never deny her. The way their eyes met was so honest, so bare, that he felt as unclothed as the day he met her.
She cupped his cheeks in her hands. “You are saying silly things,” she said tenderly. “Those are not the things that matter or make us who we are. There are those who know and live with their parents, and it does them no good either. It’s just you, Josuke, and you make your memories by living them.”
“Yasuho-chan.” He had nothing more to add. He just wanted to feel her name in his mouth, the lingering sweetness that it gave.
They stood a moment, with the sun setting behind the window.
“And unless I am mistaken,” murmured Yasuho. “Josuke, can you smile?”
He did.
Yasuho gave a triumphant laugh. “I knew it! You have dimples, Josuke!” Squishing his face in her hands, she turned his head to the mirror. “Neither Kira nor Josefumi did. Look! Your own unique trait.”
He hadn’t noticed them before, likely because he hadn’t had cause to look at himself smiling often. But Yasuho was right, and, as her hands released him, he poked curiously at his cheeks, watching the dimples vanish as his lips relaxed.
“Are they weird?”
“Not at all. In fact, many are quite taken by them.” In a quick move, Yasuho plucked the sailor hat off his head. “And looks like your hair is kind of wavy too.”
Short, and slightly flattened by the hat, Josuke’s hair was dark and with a slight curl. He ran his fingers through it, pushing dislodged strands back against his temple.
“The hat is a statement piece, that’s for sure,” Yasuho was saying, playing with it in her hands. “Don’t even know if there is a specific fashion style that it falls under. But it isn’t bad, and you can add badges to it. Hey, Josuke, what do you think?”
She had dropped the hat onto her own head, pink hair spilling beneath it. With her cherry sweater, and berry lip-gloss, and a blush that painted her cheeks, she seemed entirely radiant and flushed, bouncing up onto her toes and knocking the hat slightly to its side. She gave a wide smile, clasping her hands behind her back.
Josuke looked at her and said, “I love you.”
Her eyes widened. The toothy grin vanished with a gasp, and the hat fell off her head.
Josuke’s stomach knotted. “I’m sorry,” he said immediately, unsure of what he was apologising for. “Was that the wrong thing to say?”
“No, it’s—” Yasuho stuttered and paused, taking in a breath. “It’s just not the first thing people usually say, that’s all.”
“The first thing?” Josuke’s brows furrowed, chin bobbing down as it followed Yasuho’s crouch. “What do you mean?”
His heart beat an uneven rhythm. He wondered who was the most nervous party - Kira, Josefumi or just himself.
Yasuho straightened, his sailor hat in her hands. Her face was red but it wasn’t unhappy.
“Usually people do things first. Ease into it, so to speak.” She placed the hat lightly on his head, tucking it just right behind his ears. “Go on dates, and kiss. Things like that.”
Her fingers played with the strands of hair that curled at the base of his neck. She was very close to him.
“Would you like to go on a date with me?” he managed. A brush of a finger on his neck made him shiver.
Biting down on her bottom lip, and barely containing a smile, Yasuho nodded.
“Today?”
“No, silly.” She poked his chest. “It’s already getting dark. We will make a time.”
“Okay.” He swallowed. “I don’t know what dates are supposed to be like.”
“That’s alright.”
“Will you tell me what to do?”
“Of course.”
Her hand stayed on his chest. He could feel the warmth seep through the material, ghost over his skin.
“Would you like to kiss me?”
He had seen some of the movies and magazines that Hato was so partial too. He never thought twice about them, uninterested in the glassy eyed actors and the swelling music. Now he wanted to beat himself over the head for missing the cues and details. He had only seen a few stiff images, a handful of staged scenes, and knew barely more than the knowledge that kissing involved the pressing of the mouths.
Yasuho, although flushed, steadily met his gaze.
“I don’t want to impose,” she said softly. “I would prefer to know if you would like to kiss me.”
That at least was something Josuke knew for a long time.
“Yes.”
The first brush of Yasuho’s lips against his made him tremble, and a dozen thoughts stumbled one over the other in his mind. It was a very gentle kiss, chaste even, Yasuho neither pushing nor demanding. She tasted like lip-gloss and sweet tea, and Josuke felt his eyes flutter shut of their own volition.
The kiss stopped.
“Are you alright?”
The first thing he had seen when he awoke was the clear sky and Yasuho. Honest, sweet Yasuho, who had taken his hand and pulled him out of the ground, who had followed him on his quest to find out his past. Yasuho, who lost an arm for him, who took a gamble on the Rokakaka fruit without hesitation. Yasuho, who always knew what to say to him, and who kissed him so carefully.
“I love you,” he mumbled.
“Josuke, you’re crying.”
He opened his eyes, and blinked at the watery shape of Yasuho in front of him.
“Josuke? Are you alright?”
He nodded fervently, rubbing an eye with a knuckle.
“It’s not the usual reaction I get after kissing someone,” Yasuho said, thumbs wiping away the tears on his cheeks. “Though I suppose we are an odd pair of cry babies anyway.”
He smiled, sniffling. “Good tears,” he assured.
“Yeah?” Yasuho stayed close, one palm on his cheek. Her eyes strayed to his mouth. “Would you like to kiss again?”
It was longer, firmer, and under Yasuho’s light encouragement, Josuke kissed her back, knocking his head slightly to better meet her. Yasuho picked up one of his limp hands and placed it on her waist, sighing contently as it brought her closer. He was enthusiastic as he was earnest, catching on to every sound she made. Breaking apart for a moment, Yasuho giggled as Josuke chased her mouth.
“We still need to breathe, you know.” She giggled again, wiping gloss off his top lip. “You’re getting the hang of it pretty quickly. You sure I’m your first kiss?”
“Yes. Daiya tried to but —”
“Don’t want to hear it.” She sat on the edge of the bed and tugged him to do the same. “I like kissing you too much.”
Josuke couldn’t help but smile, and he kept smiling even as Yasuho peppered his cheek in kisses and pressed their mouths together. He smiled enough that it made her laugh as well, her warm hands on his neck.
“What are you grinning about?” she said, scrunching her nose in fake seriousness.
“You like kissing me.” The very words sounded special to him. Like a multilayered sundae on a hot afternoon.
Although she was already very flushed, Yasuho felt her cheeks heat.
“Of course I like kissing you.” She squirmed closer, both of his hands on her waist. “I, um, have wanted to kiss you for a while, you know.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” She huffed. “Why do you think I was holding your hand and buying you sweets and that?”
“Why?”
“Because I like you, you — you —” Unable to find a suitable insult, and thoroughly embarrassed, Yasuho grumbled and allowed her body to fall onto the mattress. She covered her face with her hands, feeling like she was child again. Not that she was particularly that much older than a child, but it had been a long time since she had felt so flustered, so giddy. She had to bite down on her bottom lip to stop her traitorous smile from giving her away.
She felt the bed dip beside her, and a warm breath somewhere near her shoulder.
“Yasuho-chan?”
“What?”
“If you like me, does that mean we are boyfriend and girlfriend?”
Yasuho’s heart did a somersault and then another. She took her hands from her face and peered at Josuke. Even in the dim light, she knew every curve and line of his face.
She found his hand and entwined their fingers.
“Yeah, I guess we are,” she said softly.
Yasuho had just began pressing a kiss on Josuke’s jaw when she heard a familiar sound of a car door shutting, and the clacking of heels.
“My mum,” she whispered.
Keys jangled in the front door. Yasuho and Josuke jumped up from the bed, Josuke scrambling to find his fallen hat.
“I should go?” he asked.
“Yes, please. Sorry.”
“It’s alright.” He was already at her window, one leg over the edge. “Soft & Wet will get me down. How about that date?”
“We shall text about it later.” Yasuho pushed at him as politely as she could, hearing the door open. “I’ll send you a message soon.”
“Alright.” Soft & Wet materialised behind him, hovered palely in the air. “Yasuho-chan.”
He pressed a quick kiss to her lips and, all thoughts about her mother vanishing instantly, Yasuho felt herself melt into the feeling. She was in fact so affected, that she didn’t whisper his name until he was already on the grass outside.
“Josuke!”
He peered up at her, wind ruffling his sailor outfit, and Yasuho knew exactly what she needed to say.
“I love you, too.”