The days drifted by slowly, as if each minute stretched into an eternity, while I clung to a quiet, fragile hope of seeing Aika again. Every time I passed by that closed ramen shop, the sight of its shuttered door pierced my heart like a silent wound.
Her image lingered in my mind, a specter that refused to fade into reality. The shop itself seemed to guard a mystery, a place where our worlds had collided, leaving a hidden mark on my soul. Each time I walked by, I felt an unshakable urge to step inside, to wait for her as if by some magic she might reappear, bringing with her the warmth of her presence and the scent of her cooking.
One evening, just when I was about to surrender to the memory of her, I found myself wandering past another ramen shop. Perhaps the aroma drifting into the night air would somehow soothe this ache in my chest—a longing so deep I didn't even know where it came from.
But does love need a reason? Must this heartbeat explain itself? Even I could find no answer.
I stepped through the door and froze. There she was—Aika—seated alone at a long wooden bench, a bowl of steaming ramen before her. Her face was peaceful as she savored each bite, soft curls of steam framing her in a gentle haze. For a breathless moment, I stood at the doorway, my heart racing, watching her in disbelieving silence.
The chime of the bell pulled her attention. Aika looked up, her eyes widening as she met my gaze. And in that instant, the same warmth washed over me, rekindling the memory of our first meeting.
"Oh, Sharva!" she exclaimed, her gentle smile only deepening the bittersweet nostalgia.
I walked toward her slowly, a small smile breaking through the nerves twisting within me. "I didn't expect to see you here," I managed, hoping to sound composed, though my pulse betrayed me.
She chuckled, then patted the empty seat beside her. "Maybe it's just fate… I really wanted some ramen, but the doctor said I'm not allowed to cook at the shop yet."
I felt heat rise to my cheeks and quickly lowered my gaze, hoping she wouldn't notice. Slowly, I took the seat next to her, letting the cozy warmth of the shop and the comforting aroma of ramen wrap around us. My eyes fell to her shoulder, now healed. How had she managed to endure it all?
"Your shoulder… it's better now, isn't it?" I asked, hoping to hide my deeper thoughts behind this simple question.
Her eyes sparkled, a teasing smile playing at her lips. "Yes, my injury has gotten better," she replied, her tone light. "Perhaps… thanks to a certain unsung hero?"
Heat flushed my cheeks, and I brushed off the compliment with a wave of my hand. "I'm no hero. If anything, it was you who saved me."
She tilted her head, a gentle eyebrow raised in surprise. "I saved you? I seem to recall I was the one nearly injured, and you were the one who shielded me." She patted her shoulder as if it were nothing more than a passing bruise.
"Oh… but… I only took a small hit," I mumbled, downplaying it.
Her laughter filled the space between us, melting away the last of my nerves. The quiet rhythm of our shared meal settled over us, a sense of peace woven through the gentle slurps and the shop's warm ambiance. Yet nothing here could match the comfort of her ramen, that essence of Aika that lingered in my mind.
After a pause, I gathered the courage to speak. "Aika… when will you reopen your shop?"
She set her chopsticks down, her gaze drifting to her bowl, her expression clouded by memories. "Aside from the doctor's advice about my wound, the robbers were convinced that someone dangerous was hiding in my shop. I don't want to risk it again, Sharva. If they come back…" Her voice trailed off, heavy with unspoken fears.
I nodded, suppressing the sadness rising within me. Though our time together had been brief, the thought of her never returning to that cherished place left a hollow ache in my chest. "Perhaps you're right," I said softly, more to myself than to her. "But you know nothing about Tsukishiro Himemori?"
I could see a flicker of doubt cross her face before Aika finally shook her head weakly. "I just hope that name is never mentioned again," she said, her voice heavy with sorrow. This time, I was certain she was telling the truth.
Her gentle smile hinted that she understood my unspoken thoughts. "I loved that shop, you know. Each bowl of ramen, every customer… they became part of my life." Her voice softened. "But… safety is more important."
We fell into a comfortable silence, each lost in our thoughts. Eventually, I found myself asking, "If you don't plan to go back… where will you go?"
The question slipped out, laden with a longing I hadn't meant to reveal.
She looked up, her eyes distant as if searching for the answer in her own heart. "I'm not certain yet. Perhaps I'll find another way, a new place to keep my passion alive. But…" Her voice faltered, leaving the rest unsaid.
Then, from her bag, she retrieved a small card and held it out to me. "Here… in case you ever wish to know where I am."
I took it carefully, her name printed crisply on its surface. My fingers trembled slightly, a hint of the excitement I tried to mask. "Thank you," I murmured, the words barely audible.
In the silence that followed, an idea surfaced, almost as if whispered by some unseen force. "Would you… join me for sushi sometime?" The invitation slipped out with unexpected boldness.
Her face lit up, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Sushi?" she echoed, her voice filled with delighted surprise. "You're inviting me?"
I swallowed, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Yes. I know a place known for its fresh fish. But…"
She leaned in, curiosity shining in her gaze. "But what?"
Gathering my nerve, I continued, "If you don't mind… I could pick you up. Though we'd be taking public transportation," I added with an awkward smile.
Her smile softened, her eyes warm. "I'd like that," she said, her voice gentle. "It would be lovely."
A quiet warmth settled within me, the thought of seeing her again a promise I held close to my heart. But just before we parted, her expression grew serious, a shadow in her eyes.
"There's something I've been meaning to ask you," she began, her voice soft yet resolute.
My heart quickened. "Please… go ahead."
She held my gaze, as if seeking an answer hidden in my soul. "Back in the ramen shop… when the robbers came, you shielded me without hesitation. Why?"
Her question struck deep, and for a moment, I struggled for words. "It… just happened. I didn't think; I only felt this overwhelming need to protect you." I paused, the truth spilling out slowly. "It was as if my body moved on its own, without reason."
A gentle smile formed on her lips, her eyes softening. "So… you wanted to protect me, no matter the cost?"
I nodded, realizing the weight of my feelings in that instant. "Yes… somehow, I did."
For a long, suspended moment, we gazed into each other's eyes. The unspoken connection between us stirred, a warmth filling the quiet.
She leaned a little closer, her face inches from mine. "Does that feeling… trouble you?"
I stammered, my pulse racing. "No… I only feared it might make you uneasy," I admitted, my voice honest.
Her smile softened further, melting away my worry. "It doesn't," she whispered. "In fact… I find it endearing. I feel like I've known you for a long time. But I doubt that's possible, given my secluded past. Still, I can't deny this feeling—and I'm happy you feel the same."
Her words filled me with quiet joy. And there we sat, side by side, enveloped in the tender warmth of the moment—a memory, perhaps, that would stay with us forever.