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It was four days ago when Ryo found herself sitting with Nijika and her friends at school. Though they were mostly Nijika’s crowd, they always made an effort to include Ryo, even if she didn’t say much. Ryo didn’t dislike them—she just didn’t have much to contribute to their conversations. She preferred being on the sidelines, her thoughts often wandering elsewhere.
Nijika lingered near Ryo’s desk, her usual spot whenever she wasn’t buzzing around the room. Before long, other students gathered, forming a circle around the out-going blonde. The conversation was light and easy, the kind that drifts from one topic to another without much thought. It acted like a background noise to Ryo, who half-listened while scrolling through her phone.
Then someone posed the question: “If you were to describe yourself in one word, what would it be?”
Ryo barely registered it at first, tuning out as the question bounced from one person to the next. Everyone took turns sharing their answers—some serious, others playful—each offering a glimpse into their self-perceptions. Ryo didn’t expect to be involved, especially with her headphones on, signaling her disinterest. But despite her attempts to blend into the background, she couldn’t quite escape the group’s attention.
“Yamada-san, what about you?” one of the girls asked politely, her voice tinged with curiosity.
Ryo hesitated, her thoughts briefly scrambling as she debated whether to respond. She didn’t feel like sharing, but before she could even decide, a hyper flash of yellow caught the peripheral of the bassist's eye.
“Ryo is ‘consistency,’ for sure!” Nijika declared with unwavering confidence, as if the word was tailor-made for her. There was no room for doubt, no second guessing. The group quickly accepted her answer, clapping at Nijika’s conviction, the moment passing as quickly as it had come.
The bell rang just as Nijika was about to get her turn, and the circle disbanded in a flurry of shuffling feet. Ryo and Nijika exchanged a glance, Nijika flashing her usual bright smile while Ryo’s expression softened—something only those who truly knew her would notice.
Sure, words like ‘amazing,’ ‘genius,’ ‘cool,’ ‘mysterious,’ or even ‘greatest-bassist-ever’ might fit her just as well. But if Nijika was set, really set on ‘consistent,’ then maybe Ryo could live with that.
It was true, to some degree, Ryo justifies. Her commitment to music was steadfast, a silent defiance against her parents’ belief that it was just another teenage whim. With her bass in hand, she was relentless, carving out time each day to practice, no matter how long the hours stretched. She devoured every album from her favorite artists, listening to the melody and rhythm like a secret she was determined to uncover. Music theory became her second language—not just to understand the rules but to bend them for Kessoku Band’s discography. Even in school, Ryo’s consistency showed, though not quite in the traditional sense; she hovered at a reliable 75%, the bare minimum needed to scrape by, but consistent nonetheless.
"I'm home!" Ryo's mother calls out, her voice echoing from the front door. She makes her way into the house, setting down her bags and unpacking groceries on the kitchen island.
"Welcome home," Ryo mumbles from the couch, her eyes fixed on the TV. The sounds of a behind-the-scenes documentary about an old band fill the room.
"I thought you'd be at your friend's place again," her mother says, the rustling of paper bags filling the quiet spaces. "But it’s perfect timing! I brought home way too much dinner for me and your dad, but he went out with his buddies for drinks."
Ryo only responds with a soft hum.
"And look, one of my co-workers gave me this box of leftover pizza. Why don’t you invite your friend Nijika over? She's always welcome here." Her mother suggests, proceeding to hum a familiar hit song that’s been taking over radio stations as she sets up the dinner table.
"She hasn't replied to my texts since this afternoon. Probably knocked out by now. Sorry, mom."
Her mother lets out a dramatic little sigh, half-disappointed but still lighthearted. "Aw, what a shame. Well, next time then. Come on, Ryo, let's eat."
Even with Ryo’s appreciation for good food, she couldn’t manage to finish everything on her plate. Dinner was a mix of fresh sushi and slightly cold pizza, which obviously still tasted good. The table was filled with the casual comforts of home—her mother’s cheerful voice as she recounted her day at work, peppered with light-hearted questions about Ryo’s day.
Ryo mostly listened, occasionally nodding or offering a brief reply, content to let her mother’s animated stories fill the space. It was nothing new—familiar, predictable, and oddly soothing in its routine.
Later, as Ryo lies in bed, there’s no heaviness in her heart, but she doesn’t feel particularly light either. Just... existing.
Ryo ponders for the last time, ‘Consistent, huh?’
She closes her eyes, and without much thought, drifts off to sleep.
Practice had just ended, and Ryo was buzzing with excitement as she quickly packed her bass into its bag. The others were still chatting, instruments scattered carelessly around the studio. Hitori and Kita eventually slipped out to the restroom, leaving a brief, quiet moment.Taking this as her chance for Ryo to ask Nijika about the new ice cream parlor she’d spotted on the way over.
“Nijika,” Ryo started, pulling out her phone and showing the screen with the parlor’s website already open. “There’s this new ice cream shop on Main Street. I was thinking we could check it out. Here, take a look.”
Nijika took the phone and admired the photos of the shop’s pastel decor and colorful sundaes. “This place is adorable! The ice cream looks amazing, Bocchi-chan and I should totally get some too.”
“You and Bocchi?” Ryo tilted her head, “Where are you two going?”
Nijika’s eyes sparkled as she explained, “Bocchi’s little sister, Futari, wants to go to the cinema, but their parents are busy, so we’re going with her. It’s going to be so fun!”
“Oh, I see.”
Just then, Hitori and Kita returned, and Nijika moved toward Bocchi, gently grabbing her by the shoulder. “We shouldn’t keep Futari waiting! Good practice today, everyone! See you all on Monday!” Nijika beamed, while Hitori gave a small, delayed wave as they hurried out the door.
Kita, already shouldering her guitar bag, turned to Ryo with a warm smile. “I’m heading home, too. Got a bunch of chores to catch up on. How about you, Ryo-senpai? Got any plans?”
Ryo glanced at the door, then down at her phone, still displaying the cute ice cream shop. She stared at it for a second before turning off the screen and shoving it back into her pocket.
“No plans. I’ll just head home.”
Soon, Thursday came, it hadn’t been anything new for the band. They attended school in the morning and worked until the sun turned dark orange. By this time, Ryo’s allowance is nearing empty as the week is ending and she’s left only being able to admire the windows of restaurants. Everyone went home already, they all looked eager for some reason. Ryo didn't pry and quietly went on her way, slipping into her usual solitary routine.
Halfway through her walk, her phone pinged, breaking the stillness.
‘Mom: Me and dad will be working overtime again. I sent some money in your account, go buy yourself some dinner. Tell me if you’re with your friend, I’ll send you more so you can treat her too. Don’t wait up for us. Love you.’
Ryo stopped in her tracks, her decision made the instant she finished reading the message. Without hesitation, she turned back towards the live house, a familiar destination calling her. On the way, she picked up some tempura from the nearby restaurant she and Nijika loved, along with drinks she knew would be appreciated. The aroma of the freshly fried tempura filled the air, making her stomach rumble in anticipation. There was a newfound bounce in her step as she spotted the live house in the distance.
When Ryo entered, the live house was moderately busy, with Seika and PA-san handling the night shift. Ryo made her way to the reception, where Seika was flipping through a magazine.
“Can I come up?” Ryo asked, her voice steady but carrying a hint of eagerness.
Seika doesn't bother looking up, her eyes still on the glossy pages. “Nijika went out earlier. I’m not sure when she’ll be back.” She fished around in her pocket and handed Ryo a set of keys. “Don’t lock it after.”
“Thanks,” Ryo mumbled, accepting the keys as she headed towards the Ijichi household upstairs. This wasn’t her first time doing this, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
Seika trusts her enough to not steal anything, not that she would find anything valuable compared to Ryo’s fancy furniture.
Ryo made a beeline for Nijika’s room, setting the food on the desk. She snapped a quick picture, making sure Nijika’s room was visible in the background, and sent it to her. She didn’t have to wait long for a response. A few minutes later, her phone buzzed, Nijika’s reply lighting up the screen:
‘Nijika: looks delicious!!!’
‘Nijika: it’s gonna take a while before i get home though T__T’
‘Nijika: you can start eating without me, save me some pieces though!’
‘Nijika: :please:’
‘:thumbs_up: : Ryo’
Ryo stared at her phone, reading Nijika’s message with a sigh before setting it aside. She picked up a piece of tempura, savoring the first bite—it was crispy and delicious, just as she expected. But the room felt too quiet, the usual chatter and noise missing. She only managed to eat half of it before setting it back in the corner, taking a sip of her iced tea to help flush the food down.
She flopped onto Nijika’s bed, sprawling out lazily. She figured she could wait for Nijika a little while longer; after all, she wasn’t in a rush. Her stomach, however, disagreed, grumbling softly as if to remind her of the untouched food nearby.
Ryo pulled out her phone, scrolling aimlessly through apps and social media, but nothing really caught her interest. Picking up her bass didn’t feel appealing either. She sighed and got up, deciding to change out of her school uniform into the casual clothes she had left in Nijika’s room from past sleepovers. The familiar scent of the room wrapped around her, a comforting reminder of the countless nights spent together.
Eventually, she found herself lying back down, staring blankly at the ceiling, the gentle hum of the fan filling the silence. It was a quiet lullaby, lulling her into a drowsy, dreamlike state, her eyelids growing heavier with each passing second.
Ryo wakes up to the grumbling of her stomach, her nose lifting her body into a sitting position. The chill of the AC hums softly in the background, and she squints, too sleepy to fully open her eyes. The strong smell of fried rice wafts through the room, a tantalizing promise of dinner. She lets out a grunt, battling the real-world problems of sleepiness and hunger.
From the other side of the room, she hears faint chuckling as someone steps closer, the bed bending under the added weight. Ryo can’t help but think this could be the reason she was born, with delicious food just in front of her and the presence of a certain drummer rivaling even the feeling of buying a brand new limited edition bass.
A hand brushes her bangs aside. “You're drooling on my pillows.” Nijika teases. Ryo doesn’t respond, shuffling closer to her, curling up until her forehead rests against Nijika’s back. Nijika’s hand remains in Ryo’s hair, gentle and comforting. It’s a welcome change from the lack of Nijika’s attention these days.
“If you don't wake up, I’m eating all of this.” Nijika warns, standing up and pulling her hand away. In an instant, Ryo’s eyes shoot open, her reaction as swift as a race car’s. The first thing she registered was Nijika’s beaming face, laughter dancing in her eyes. If it weren’t for the enticing aroma of fried rice and freshly microwaved tempura wafting through the air, Yamada Ryo might have wondered if she was still caught in a dream.
Much to Ryo’s dismay, the following days didn’t change. She had thought that whatever had been keeping Nijika busy was a fluke, something that would pass and leave their routine intact—something Ryo was not eager to see disrupted. One minute, Nijika was there, like usual, and the next, she was off again, without so much as a second glance in Ryo’s direction. No invitation to join her, not that Ryo was waiting for one.
Ryo knew why Nijika didn’t invite her. Nijika understood Ryo well enough to know whether she’d be interested in going, depending on the outing. And if Nijika thought it wasn’t worth Ryo’s time, then maybe it wasn’t. It didn’t bother Ryo. It shouldn’t bother her at all. She trusted Nijika.
Ryo knows better than to overthink but Nijika’s non-band hangouts with Bocchi had become more frequent—sometimes with Kita too. But never with her. Lately, Nijika never seemed to include Ryo in these plans, and though she wouldn’t admit it, the absence left a bitter taste on her tongue. What if Nijika’s routine was shifting, no longer aligning with her own? If consistency leads to improvement, maybe Nijika’s life is getting better. Maybe soon, their time together would be nothing more than a memory, a story of the past. It haunts Ryo, especially as they are in their graduating year. Like always, they’re inseparable in school—hip to hip, side by side. But Ryo wonders, when that chapter ends, when she pursues music and Nijika heads into university, will that be the string that finally snaps their connection? Will the bond that felt so unbreakable weaken under the weight of different paths?
If Ryo was defined by 'consistency,' then perhaps it was her consistent inability to be capable and sensible that trapped Nijika in a cycle of repetition, ultimately leading her to pull away. For Nijika, who had learned how to be responsible against her will at such a young age, she may have realized that someone like Ryo wasn't fit to be in her life.
The thought of a future without Nijika in her life is outright terrifying, so much so that Ryo physically winces at the idea.
It’ll never happen, Ryo’s sure of it. But her emotions get the better of her, not when she’s clenching her phone hard enough in hopes that Nijika’s replies would change.
‘Nijika: sorry ! maybe next time, me and bocchi are hanging out today LOL’
‘again? :Ryo'
‘Nijika: [:thumbs_up:]’
Ryo stares at her phone, the bright screen casting a harsh light on her face in the dim room. It’s alright. It’s fine. But she knows it’s not. It never is, especially now, when this has happened for god knows how many times now. She squeezes the stupid phone in her hand, tempted to toss it into the stupid street outside—or maybe even throw her stupid self into the path of an oncoming stupid truck, just so stupid Nijika would finally come running back to her.
She sets the phone down beside her, taking a deep breath. She knows she doesn’t need to do anything drastic to be seen. Maybe, for once, she just needs to see herself and where she went wrong.
It continues for weeks, and Ryo tries to distance herself from Nijika, though it obviously doesn't work. So she opts for the opposite approach—attempting to stay close, trying to see what Nijika is doing, even if it doesn't interest her. Ryo tells herself she'll learn to love it, willing to do anything just to be part of Nijika’s world again. It's pathetic, but she's ready to do whatever it takes.
During the rare days of practice, Ryo stares into Nijika's eyes—really stares—and she’s sure Nijika notices. She can’t help it. The bassist is trying to spot what has changed, but in Nijika’s piercing red gaze, Ryo only finds warmth and familiarity. Should she feel relieved by this? Or disappointed? If she still holds a place as an important person in Nijika’s life, then why is Nijika shutting her out?
As usual, Nijika leaves her behind again, with Kita and Bocchi trailing close behind. Nijika shoots Ryo an assuring smile, but instead of feeling reassured, Ryo feels her stomach twist in knots. She notices the bags forming beneath Nijika’s eyes—something unusual. For all the time they spent together, Nijika rarely stayed up late. Drumming required energy, and she always made it a point to rest early.
Ryo sighs into her hands, her mind buzzing with endless questions.
A polite knock interrupts Ryo's sleep. It's the weekend, a free day, and there’s no reason her parents wouldn't let her sleep in. She tries to sleep it off, settling back under the covers, but the knocking persists, growing louder until it becomes impossible to ignore.
Frustrated, Ryo groggily rubs her face and croaks, “What is it?” Her voice is husky, still heavy with sleep. The door creaks open, revealing her dad holding a cake and her mom standing beside him, phone in hand, filming everything. Both are wearing ridiculous party hats, and the cake is covered in candles, flickering and sparkling in the dim light.
The sight is too much for Ryo's barely-awake brain to process. Her parents exchange a glance, then begin an off-key, out-of-tune, disjointed version of ‘Happy Birthday.’
Ryo stares at them in disbelief until the song ends. “It’s not my birthday,” she mutters, more confused than anything,
“Yes, it is,” her father replies, equally confused. Her mom stops recording and shows her the phone screen. The date reads September 18, confirming that, in fact, it is her birthday.
Ryo lets out a choked sound. “Oh god, I forgot.”
Her parents laugh at her sudden realization. They sit down at the edge of her bed, scooting closer as they place the cake in front of her. It’s yellow, likely mango-flavored, with smudges of blue frosting and a mountain of toppings. It looks pretty good in her half-awake standards. After a moment’s hesitation, Ryo leans forward and blows out the candles. Her parents cheer, and her dad takes the cake to prepare for her birthday celebration
Her mom stays behind, watching Ryo with a worried expression. “Ryo, are you okay? I can’t believe you forgot your own birthday,” she says softly, placing a hand on her daughter's forehead to check for a fever.
Ryo gently swats her hand away. “I’m fine, Mom, really,” she insists. But it’s clear her mother isn’t convinced, though she lets it go for now.
“Well, if you say so,” her mom replies, standing up. “Get dressed, okay? We have something special planned for you!”
Before Ryo can protest or ask for more details, her mom leaves the room.
Sighing, Ryo stares at the door. She’d much rather spend the day quietly at home, but it seems there’s no avoiding whatever birthday surprise they’ve cooked up. With a heavy sigh, she resigns herself to getting ready.
Wherever they’re going, Ryo's parents refuse to say, exchanging cheeky grins instead of answering her questions. After the ninth attempt to pry an answer from them, Ryo finally gives up. It doesn’t really matter, she tells herself. All she wants is a distraction from the fact that Nijika hasn’t texted her at all. Bocchi, Kita, and other acquaintances have already sent their birthday wishes, but nothing from the blonde. In fact, Nijika hasn't messaged her since yesterday morning, and that thought sends another pang through Ryo's already bruised heart.
Feeling the weight of her worries, she turns her gaze to the window, watching the trees blur past and taking in the natural scenery. The green leaves rustle in the gentle breeze, and she tries to focus on the beauty outside rather than the persistent ache inside her chest. It's a lovely day, and she wants to enjoy it at least.
It was a long ride, and Ryo had deliberately avoided opening her phone the entire time. Thankfully, her parents blasted music from artists they knew she enjoyed, making the journey more bearable. As the vehicle pulled into what appeared to be a park venue, Ryo had to physically suppress a groan.
It’s not that a park was a bad choice; it just seemed out of character for her parents to pick it as a birthday venue. She had expected something from the arsenal of her parent’s favorite restaurants, maybe an elegant café or a lively restaurant. But a park? It felt oddly mundane, despite the beauty of the greenery surrounding her. Ryo glanced out the window, trying to gauge what her parents were planning, but all she could see were clusters of trees and families enjoying picnics.
Exiting the vehicle, all three of them carried various foods in Tupperware, along with her cake and some wrapped gifts. It felt a bit childish, Ryo mused, but at the same time, she felt giddy at the sight. Maybe this was what she needed as a break from all the negative emotions she’d been harboring the past few weeks; it felt refreshing.
Soon her parents stopped at a long table under a huge tree. It’s already been decorated and filled with food. As they place the tupperwares they were holding onto the already filled table, Ryo looks up to her parents, confused on when they had the time to set this up.
She catches a glimpse of their warm smiles until she hears a strum of a guitar behind her. A wave of pink surprises her—it’s Bocchi with an acoustic guitar. A voice joins her, Kita, singing "Happy Birthday" lively, in contrast to Bocchi, who was singing in a shy whisper. And finally, an explosion of yellow enters her vision; it’s Nijika with maracas, looking as lovely as ever. Ryo’s breath hitches, and for the first time in a long few weeks, she feels her body release all its tension and stress. She relaxes, listening and waiting for them to finish their performance.
"Happy Birthday, Ryo!" They all greet in unison, including her parents. Ryo gives a small snicker, muttering a soft, "Thanks."
Her eyes meet Nijika’s, who tilts her head expectantly. But Ryo, with a dramatic pout, turns away, letting out a faint ‘hmph’. She doesn’t need to see it to know that Nijika’s jaw has probably dropped in shock.
"What’s wrong?" Nijika asks, trying to enter Ryo’s line of sight. But the bassist stubbornly continues to avoid her, turning her head as far in the opposite direction as possible. From the side, Ryo can hear Bocchi whisper to Kita, ‘What’s happening?’ while her parents chuckle softly as they arrange the food and utensils on the table.
"Ryo?" There’s amusement in Nijika’s voice, and Ryo knows it’s funny—she’s aware. But after the way Nijika’s been treating her lately, she’s not about to give in so easily. "Seriously, Ryo, what is it?" The drummer places her hands on Ryo’s shoulders, shaking her playfully yet vigorously. Ryo keeps her eyes fixed on the sky, stubbornly maintaining her pout as her world shakes around her.
Nijika laughs, playfully poking Ryo’s cheeks with her pointer finger. “Are you sulking?”
Ryo huffs in response, crossing her arms defiantly. The shorter girl’s teasing only makes her more determined to hold her ground. She can feel Nijika’s warmth radiating in front of her, but she’s not ready to give in just yet. The playful banter is familiar, and despite her best efforts to stay upset, a small part of her is beginning to crack.
Nijika sighs and Ryo hears the drummer rustling through one of the bags under the table. "Here," Nijika says, nudging her gift towards her. Ryo glances down to see the present in Nijika’s hands, the drummer looking at her with sincerity.
Ryo’s pout softens a bit, slowly reaching for the gift.
She can feel Nijika's gaze fixed on her as she slowly unwraps the gift. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Nijika fidgeting with her fingers, a mix of excitement and nervousness radiating from her. After a few moments of careful peeling, Ryo finally unveils the present: a knitted cardigan in a rich royal blue, unmistakably her style.
“This is cool,” Ryo comments, a faint smile breaking through her initial sulk. Nijika lets out a bashful laugh, relief flooding her expression.
“Really? I made it myself,” Nijika admits, her eyes brightening.
Ryo's gaze finally snaps to her face, surprise evident as she takes in the deepening bags under Nijika's eyes since their last encounter. She also notices the faint outlines of pain relief patches peeking from beneath her clothes. “It kinda took a month to make, but it was fun!” Nijika adds, offering a clumsy smile. “I had Kita and Bocchi help me, too. With no experience, it was really hard, but I wanted to give you something special, you know?”
Ryo stays silent, looking back and forth between the cardigan and Nijika, connecting the dots of her recent behavior with this thoughtful gift. “I know it isn't the same as your designer clothes, but, like, hey, it’s the thought that counts, right? You really don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to—seriously, it’s fine—”
“Nijika,” Ryo cuts in gently, unable to hide her awe any longer. “So all this time you were busy, was it with this?”
Nijika smiles nervously, “I was knitting, yes. Sorry.”
Taking a deep breath, Ryo sheds her previous jacket and slips her arms into the cardigan. It fits her perfectly, the warmth wrapping around her like a hug from the material used, and perhaps with the love and effort woven into it.
Ryo smiles at Nijika, her heart swelling with gratitude. In a burst of playful affection, she pokes Nijika’s cheeks, and the resulting flush on both their faces is undeniable.
“It’s okay. I love it, Nijika. Thank you.”
“Hey, no fair that you already gave your gift!” Kita pouted, crossing her arms playfully as she and Bocchi approached. Bocchi lingered behind her, looking a bit troubled, as if unsure whether it was okay to interrupt Ryo and Nijika.
Ryo raised an eyebrow while Nijika chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Their gift was a limited edition CD album from one of Ryo’s all-time favorite bands, a thoughtful surprise from Kita and Bocchi. Ryo held the album close to her heart, muttering multiple ‘thank you's ' to her juniors.
They all settled at the picnic table, where an array of delicious food awaited them. Ryo’s stomach growled, and she eyed several familiar dishes—her favorite foods, along with some of her favorites from Nijika’s cooking.
As they chatted about how they had planned this whole feast, Ryo learned that Nijika had cooked some of the meals, just as she suspected, while Kita had helped. Bocchi, on the other hand, provided moral support, given their reservations about her handling a knife with all her nervous shaking. Ryo listened intently, an amused expression etched onto her face as they all dug into the food that had been prepared. As always, Nijika’s cooking tastes good.
Nijika stood up to excuse herself for the restroom, and Ryo quickly downed her soda, saying that she would come along. The restroom was quite a walk from their area, as the park was large, which gave them a few minutes to talk and catch up on what they had been doing these past few weeks. While Nijika immersed herself in knitting tutorials on YouTube, Ryo had managed to finish three whole seasons of the anime Nijika had recommended to her a year ago—an impressive feat for Ryo.
Nijika laughed as if there were no tomorrow, wiping away the tears forming in her eyes. “I can’t believe you did that! You must’ve missed me so much.”
Ryo paused for a moment, considering her response. Normally, she would deliver a disguised remark, but instead, she replied a simple, “I did,” choosing to be truthful this time around.
Nijika’s expression shifted, a mix of surprise and delight crossing her face. “You’re such a sap!” she laughed, lightly hitting Ryo’s shoulder. “I missed you too.”
They smiled softly, as they both fell into a comfortable silence for a moment. “Nijika is warm.” Ryo said suddenly, her tone as steady as ever. ‘If you had to describe yourself using one word, what would it be?’ Ryo’s answer for Nijika would be ‘warmth.’ Sure, words like ‘perfect,’ ‘amazing,’ ‘everything’ and ‘light-of-my-life’ might fit the drummer just as well. She knows that she’s a few weeks late for an answer, but if Ryo had to settle on one. It would be that Nijika is everything warm.
It’s sappy, Ryo admits to herself, but that’s the reason that Bocchi is the lyricist of Kessoku Band and not her.
Nijika looked at her, a mix of confusion and curiosity in her eyes. “What? Huh?”
“Nothing,” Ryo replied, brushing off the question as they returned to the table.
Later, as the band piled themselves to her parents' car to head home, Ryo and Nijika settled beside each other in the back seat.
Nijika’s eyes fluttered closed into a dream as she leaned her head against Ryo’s shoulder, letting out a content sigh. The sight of her resting made Ryo’s heart and mind feel at rest too, washing away all her doubts and worries.
(“Ryo is definitely your daughter,” her mom whispers from the passenger seat. “Back when I didn’t give you enough attention, you would sulk for days.”
Ryo hears her father tapping the steering wheel, a hint of nostalgia in his tone. “Did I really?”
“I can hear you guys,” Ryo interjects, “Stop it.”
“But just for the record,” her dad continues, “during midterms, your mom was always in study groups. She invited me yes, but I preferred to study alone. Still, don’t you think it’s unfair that she's always with them—”
Ryo groans into her hands, shaking her head in exasperation.)