The morning sun spilled over Tokyo like melted gold, catching the glass and steel of the city in a gentle shimmer. I tugged at my tie for the fourth time, each adjustment almost a ritual. Not just for style, but precision—my marketing instincts kicked in automatically. If Hiroshi looked professional, calm, and approachable, I had to match him. Childhood habits die slowly; years in London hadn't erased them.
The shopping mall sprawled ahead, modern yet inviting, with natural light spilling through the glass ceiling. Shops gleamed with minimalistic elegance: wooden shelves, soft linen displays, signage written in sleek Japanese and English fonts. People moved like currents, flowing between the floors, while small cafes punctuated the air with hints of roasted coffee and sweet pastries.
Hiroshi walked beside me, tall and steady, calm in his casual shirt, the same pastel blue we had worn together as children during summer festivals. Matching our old shirts wasn't coincidence—it was a thread to the past, a way to anchor ourselves after a decade apart. I felt a quiet, nervous thrill seeing him smile in the same fabric I remembered, the color brushing against my memory like a soft echo of simpler days.
I clenched my hands inside my coat pockets, ignoring the slight tremor in my chest. Do not think about last night. Forget the chaos, Hiroshima. Rational brain, alien-born. Ignore heat and… distraction.
We wandered through the mall, slowly scanning displays, occasionally comparing tie colors, fabrics, shoes—an absurdly mundane task, but grounding. I felt oddly protective, obsessive even, about the little details. "That tie matches your cuff links better. No, that shirt would draw more attention from customers at the exhibition." Hiroshi chuckled at my meticulousness, but I couldn't stop. Every detail mattered, and I couldn't help imagining the critical eye of Kaoru lurking somewhere in my memory, judging, teasing, impossible.
And then, almost as if summoned by fate—or my subconscious craving for past connections—we spotted familiar faces near a boutique's glass windows. A cluster of childhood friends: seven of them, scattered across the small plaza. Three were mine, three were Hiroshi's, and one belonged to both groups in memory, bridging the years.
The first to notice us was Miyako—my old friend, bold as ever, eyes sparkling with mischief. She had always had a soft corner for me, though I'd been oblivious. The thought made my chest tighten unexpectedly.
"Hiroshima?!" she cried, rushing over, arms wide. Her laughter was the same as a decade ago: warm, teasing, unapologetically bright.
I blinked, heart thumping. "Miyako… hi…" I managed a small smile, trying not to betray how flustered I felt.
"Looks like someone finally survived Tokyo rain without disintegrating," she teased, elbowing me lightly.
Nearby, Hiroshi's friends appeared: Rika and Satomi, both taller, bolder, a little teasing in their stance. "Hiroshi! It's been forever!" Rika's voice carried a playful lilt, her gaze flicking toward me with amusement. Satomi grinned, elbowing her lightly. "Hiroshima, don't look so stiff. You've clearly been coddled in London."
My face heated, and I caught Hiroshi's sly grin. He leaned in slightly, whispering, "Relax. They're harmless… mostly."
We fell into conversation, naturally reminiscing. Childhood memories spilled like a stream—campfires, summer festivals, stolen snacks, our little secret adventures. Hiroshi and I shared subtle glances, small gestures, reminding each other that though time had passed, some bonds remained. I felt a quiet, protective warmth settle over me, though part of me still throbbed from last night's chaos—the memory of Kaoru, impossible and teasing, refusing to fade.
Miyako nudged me again, close enough for me to feel her warmth. "You've grown… and not just in height. Looks like London didn't soften you, but it made you… intense."
I swallowed, trying to suppress the memory of last night. "London… it's just studying… nothing exciting." I felt my ears heat under her gaze, aware of the blush spreading across my cheeks.
The boys—Takeshi and Kenji—Hiroshi's childhood friends—stood too close to each other, whispering and laughing like no time had passed. Something in their familiarity made me stiffen, eyebrows raising, but I said nothing. Their closeness had always been that way: comfortable, complete, perfectly natural.
"Still the perfectionist, huh?" Kenji teased, glancing at me with a grin. I tensed and glanced at Hiroshi, who only raised an eyebrow with a faint smirk. "Careful, Hiroshima, Tokyo isn't forgiving of obsessive details."
I clenched my jaw, muttering under my breath, Don't start imagining the wrong things, don't think about Pavilion Eight, don't— but the memory tugged insistently at the edges of my mind.
We drifted toward a cafe inside the mall, the warm smell of pastries welcoming. As we sat, casual chatter continued, and one friend asked, "How long are you staying in Tokyo this time?"
"Two months," I answered cautiously.
"Two months? That's too short. You should stay at least five," another teased.
I laughed softly. "I have everything left in London. How could I stay that long?"
Curiosity sparkled in their eyes. "And… what exactly do you do there?"
I hesitated, a faint blush rising. "…I have a shopping mall. Mostly… male products."
"A shopping mall? You could do anything more while you're such a genius," Rika murmured.
"I… liked marketing businesses a lot… from the start," I reasoned, clearing their doubts over my almost weird preference while I could've been any scientist or something.
"Ohh, I see," everyone nodded in understanding.
I continued, quieter now, "My shop is called In Your Shape."
The group froze, then erupted into teasing laughter. "In Your Shape? Are you… in love with the shop, or… someone?" Miyako grinned mischievously.
"I… it's… just a name… you know… attractive name attracts more… customers," I muttered with an awkward smile, shifting in my seat, feeling exposed yet amused.
The name felt bold, intimate, slightly… suggestive even. I caught Hiroshi snickering, enjoying my flustered state.
"Ohh~ that really is an attractive name to attract customers nowadays… you're not totally out of the trends, I see," Kanji teased; others chuckled along with him.
I didn't know if it was just a tease or a compliment… but somehow, it felt fine.
For a moment, it felt like old times, all seven of us, laughing and teasing, yet beneath it lingered the weight of distance, time, and unspoken memories. I realized brilliance had come with a curse—keeping me away from those I cared about most.
And then, a shift: Rika glanced at her watch. "We have to get to the airport. One of our friends' partner is arriving from abroad… today, afternoon. They're moving here permanently, like before."
I blinked, curiosity piqued. "Who… who is arriving? And the partner?"
The group exchanged mischievous glances, smirks spreading in a way that promised secrets and chaos. A subtle thrill ran down my spine, and my pulse picked up. Somehow, I knew that the mundane shopping trip would spiral into something far more interesting before the day was out.