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A bygone, high school love crumbled away. It had been shocking news to everyone, even to Ryou. Years wasted with the prospect of a chapel white wedding down the line. Was it love or mere infatuation? Ryou begrudgingly couldn't deny that there was genuine love between the two.
When Ichigo loved, it was never only a part of her that was given. She poured her entirety into it. Her love was like a chalice of golden mead to be poured upon the recipient, coating his throat in warm praise and dousing his skin with a passionate touch. She had held her heart out on a platter, only for it to be crushed, smothering her fiery spirit and splitting the joy in her smile.
It was their hope—the team and his—that the countryside's environment would aid in her depression.
“It's been a year since their breakup,” Retasu murmured beside him. “Surely nature will help her find some solace?”
“So the books say,” Ryou sighed. He snuck a glance behind him where Ichigo sat. Her head rested against the glass window of the van with her eyes fixed on the rolling landscape. “But this isn't a story from the era of Romanticism. Nature alone won't heal what has been damaged inside,” he mumbled.
Ryou could see the estate from a distance as they drove over a sloping hill. It was a prim, white villa of a decent size with green vines draped along the walls and trimming of the roof. As they came closer, he could see verdant green grass surrounding the estate, sloping outwards and merging into a sprawling field of multi-colored flowers. They came to a stop in front of the metal fence surrounding the perimeter of the villa. Its tall, gilded gate opened to a path of cobblestone leading to more pristine, ivory steps before the front door.
“Well, Ichigo? Could you think of a better way to celebrate your 18th birthday?” Minto called over her shoulder as she stood from her seat. Ryou turned his torso to look at the girl once more. He wasn’t the only one as everyone else in the van turned to face her. She probably expected to celebrate her 18th with her now ex-boyfriend , he thought.
Ichigo’s wide eyed expression was enough to tell him that she was not comfortable with the sudden attention. Their expectant silence was enough to pull a response from her lips.
“Can’t think of anything better,” she smiled. The smile itself was frail; it failed to reach her eyes. Minto did not notice and proceeded to give a satisfied, self-assured nod.
Ryou dragged the last piece of luggage from the trunk of the vehicle, slamming it shut to reveal Minto’s short figure beside him.
“My grandfather used to dabble in film as well,” she said, gesturing to the camera that hung on his neck. “There’s a darkroom in the basement if you need to develop any photos.”
“Thank you.”
“Be sure you take plenty of pictures,” she ordered.
Their first venture was to explore the flower field. A strong breeze rustled through the petals, sending a sickly sweet aroma to his nose and a dull ache to his head. Rows of white gardenias, yellow tulips, blue hydrangeas, and pink peonies spanned across the land. And youthful, spritely Bu-Ling found it to be the perfect terrain to cartwheel around as she kicked up stray petals into the air as she motored through the patches. Retasu held up a limp hand, trying to get the girl’s attention.
“We came here to pick flowers, not kill them!” Ryou shouted out. He fiddled with the settings of the film camera that hung around his neck. It was a sturdy, reliant thing, one that he had come to regard as an extension of his eyes in the past two years. Ichigo had called him an old man when he had first brought it out to use. In turn, he had taken a picture of her after she had slipped on the wet tile and landed on her backside. It must have been karma.
“Who’s the old one now?” he had jibed. Before she could cuss him out, he'd grabbed her by the hands and pulled her up. He could be a gentleman when he wanted.
Ryou held the camera up and peered into its viewfinder, swiveling his neck to search for a subject. He stilled when he saw Ichigo crouched at a line of white gardenias. One hand picked the white flowers to add to her pile, while the other hand held the back of her sunhat to keep it from soaring off with the wind. Her long, sage green dress rippled at her calves, and Ryou took a shot of the image, pulling the scene into a frozen memory in his film. He was lucky to have gotten it because mere seconds later, Bu-Ling came sprawling into frame, knocking Ichigo face down into the ground.
Her head of red hair came up, shaking off petals and dirt as her shoulders shook in laughter. Ryou’s finger itched to press against the shutter and take another picture, but he was afraid she would see and contort her face into a pout. So he lowered his camera, and opted to bask in the sight of her wide smile and the sound of her bright, tinkling laugh.
🍓
The following day was spent by the lake that rested behind the villa. The crystalline waters glistened beneath the afternoon sun, its heat muted by the passage of wispy clouds. Ryou could see Minto and Zakuro sitting side by side on the dock with their feet submerged in the lake. He took a picture of the two.
It was a bit too cold to go for a swim today, though that didn't stop them from admiring the immense expanse of water. It was enough to be able to witness the scenery. The bright blue of the sky was surreal, almost unnatural with how it looked. Almost like it had been crafted by the careful brushstrokes of an artist.
“Hm. Maybe I was wrong,” he said out loud.
“About what?” He looked down to his side to see that Ichigo had crept up behind him amidst his daydreaming.
“I see why they say nature is healing.”
“And are you healed, Ryou?” She spoke his name softly, like it was a delicate, fragile thing. And it formed a hitch in his throat to see her solemn eyes gazing up at him.
“No,” he confessed. “Healing isn't linear. Some things may never mend. But with time, pain will fade.” Ryou placed a hand on her shoulder, and she blinked up at him in what could have been surprise. “I promise you this, Ichigo. It will fade in due time.”
“Geez, when'd you get so sentimental?” she said with the roll of her eyes. She tore her gaze away, turning to look out at the others by the water. But he had seen the barest film of moisture form at the waterline of her eyes.
“I'm not so heartless,” he barked, jabbing at the side of her waist. Her body recoiled at the sensation while her chest released a hearty laugh and a slap to his arm at the same time. Then, she finally stood up straight with her head held back to look heavenwards.
“The sky matches the color of your eyes,” she blurted out.
“When did you become so poetic?” Ryou tried to keep his tone playful and fiddled with the strap of his camera. What does she mean by that? Is she being romantic? His brain racked through the possibilities, blaring alarms in his head at her statement.
“You’ve always been the perfect muse,” she said, her cheeks flushing pink. “And someone else thinks the same.” She jut her chin out at Retasu, who waved at them from the shoreline.
“Ichigo! Come skip rocks with us,” Bu-Ling called out.
“I’ve gotten the farthest,” Minto boasted.
“Actually, mine was an inch farther,” Zakuro said. Before Ryou could process Ichigo’s words, she bade him goodbye and ran towards the others, scooping a handful of rocks from the terrain as she did. It was a simple thing really, but they rejoiced at the sight of their pebbles skimming across the surface of the water. And that—admittedly—made Ryou himself rejoice.
He lifted his camera up to take a shot. As if orchestrated, Bu-Ling pushed Ichigo forth and off the dock. Snap! His camera captured her midway through her fall before she barreled into the cold shallow, sending a spray of water up from the impact. Her shorts bloomed out, making it look as though she was sprouting from the top of a pink flower. Ryou removed the sling of his camera from his neck.
“Going to be a gentleman, Ryou?” Keiichiro asked suddenly, palms held up to take the camera from his hands. Ryou shrugged, then jogged over to the dock.
Bu-Ling, though shivering, splashed delightedly at the others. Ichigo shook her head of wet hair as her hands grasped onto the plank of the dock. Ryou knelt to take her hand. A glint of mischief crossed her face as a feral grin plastered across her mouth.
“You better not—” he warned.
“Oh, yes I am!” She pulled him forth and into the lake with both arms latched on his own. His skin was hit by the shock of cold immediately.
“Too cold,” he chattered. Ichigo wrapped her arms around his back to lock her hands across his chest. Her cold flesh covered in goosebumps pressed against his skin.
“I'll warm you up.” His heart pounded loud enough for him to hear. Her equally cold skin did not relieve him of the shivering, but her body pressed against his own did in fact, warm him up in a different way.
🍓
The late afternoon cast a warm, orange light across the landscape of the villa. The humid air intermingled with the gentle breeze; it was the initiation of the day melding into evening. Ryou had opted to stay indoors to focus on his pile of work while the others frolicked through a patch of strawberries with woven baskets in hand.
He let out a yawn and leaned back in his chair. Through the window in front of him, he could see the group part ways as they entered the building. He resumed his work.
Minutes later, his peripheral caught the all familiar head of red outside. In her simple all-white ensemble of a loose top with thin straps and flowing shorts, she knelt forward with bare feet on the grass.
With a handful of unstemmed strawberries, Ichigo shoved the pile into her mouth and chewed enthusiastically. Pink juice oozed from the corners of her lips, trailing down her chin and dripping onto her collarbone. She was always a messy eater when she suspected no one was looking. The liquid pooled down her shirt to where he could see the valley of her breasts.
Against his self-control, Ryou felt his eyes lock and his breathing come to a stop. With the back of her hand, Ichigo wiped the juice, then licked the remaining juices from her sticky fingers. It was criminal for him to watch, but she was an ethereal thing that would burn into his memory until she was tattooed on his mind.
He violently shook his head to shift his focus back onto his paperwork. With a pen gripped too tightly in his hand, he scrawled across his papers and set his buzzing brain to work.
When Ryou finally emerged from the confines of the study, he found her sleeping on a hammock suspended between two tree trunks. He took a picture of her languid form: legs crossed with an arm over her eyes.
“I heard that,” she mumbled.
“Guilty,” he shrugged.
“Are you done with your boring paperwork?”
“Not exactly." He rubbed his temples with his fingers, then rubbed his fatigued eyes. “Do you have room for me to squeeze in?” he joked. And to his covert delight, Ichigo shifted onto her side and patted the space beside her on the hammock.
“We'll have a catnap,” she yawned. Ryou obliged and sunk into the swing with her. After readjusting, she rested her head against his chest, snaked her arm across his waist, and entwined their legs together.
He allowed himself this feeling. This unspoken fondness between them that would remain unaddressed the next day. As if what existed between them was a passing daydream. A figment of the mind. It's been this way from the start , he thought. Ryou swallowed the bitterness that rose on his tongue and nestled deeper into the presence in his arms.
His shallow breathing soon slowed to match the soft, steady breath of her lull, pulling him into the warmth of her body and the sweet perfume upon her skin.
🍓
The morning of Ichigo’s birthday party was spent in a frantic rush to hang up decorations and prepare the celebratory meal. The birthday girl had the decency to feign oblivion to their preparation and stayed inside her room until they were done. She claimed that she needed more sleep, but Ryou could hear her giggling through the walls as she watched what sounded like a K-drama.
Her time locked away was brought to an end with Keiichiro’s gentle knock upon her door. From the top of the curved staircase, she was met with an eruption of “Happy birthday!”
“Aww, you guys shouldn’t have!” she said, clapping in delight as she descended the steps. She wore a tea length dress with layers of tulle that flared out like a belle, and it flounced with her every move. Minto caught Ryou admiring the outfit and leaned her head in towards him.
“I picked it out myself. A vintage inspiration. Very old Hollywood style.”
“It’s perfect,” he remarked.
“I thought you’d like it especially,” she said with a smug smile.
Ichigo sat at the center of the dining table with the round birthday cake before her. The tablecloth had an appropriate design of strawberries, and the balloons that floated in the air behind her were also strawberry shaped. And as expected, her frosted white cake was topped with a ring of deep, red strawberries. Ryou was surprised how she wasn’t utterly sick of strawberries at this point.
In an uncharacteristic display of affection, Zakuro dotted Ichigo’s nose with a dollop of frosting. She tried to bring her tongue up to lick it.
“We brought this for you.” Retasu held forth a cushion with a small, golden tiara. Bu-Ling took extra care to place it on the catgirl’s head so as to not ruin her hair. Even with her calculated efforts, the young girl managed to place it off center and at a crooked tilt.
“Make a wish,” Keiichiro said.
The flame of the candles cast an amber, dreamlike glow across her face. A contemplative, meditative trance fell across her as she shut her eyes to blow out the flames. Though, her serene face was marred by the frosting still smothered on her nose. It was a charming addition.
Snap! With that final image taken, Ryou tucked his camera away as a plume of dark smoke wafted in the air with the extinguishing of the candles.
🍓
Ryou politely excused himself from the after-party cleanup and headed down to the basement of the house. By the late evening, everyone had parted ways to prepare for their nighttime routines and activities.
“Ichigo?” He rapped a knuckle against her bedroom door. It creaked open seconds later. Through the slit, he could see a towel wrapped around her hair and a wet face dewey from a bath. “Come with me.”
“And where are you taking me?” she asked, a hint of suspicion in her tone.
“You’ll see when you follow me.” She cast a wary squint of her eyes before shaking her head out of the towel.
“Give me a minute,” she conceded, shutting the door on his face.
The sun had set by the time they left the estate. Ryou led Ichigo down a paved path that veered off the side of the lake. As they distanced themselves further from the villa, Ryou could sense the heavy air that lingered above them. An inkling of tension that bordered between apprehension and a spark of anticipation. His wavering confidence must have shown on his face, because she gave him an awkward, yet endearing, thumbs up.
Pull yourself together . With a straighter back and puffed out chest, Ryou grabbed her by the hand, lacing his fingers with hers as they resumed their walk. They came to a curved path along the lake guided by wooden arches entwined with purple wisteria. Strands of fairy lights hung from the arches overhead to cast them in a gentle haze of lavender.
Holding both hands, Ryou pulled her to the center of the path. She admired the wisteria and lights with a glimmer of awe within her eyes.
“I'm sorry I didn't give you your birthday present earlier.” He pressed a finger to her lips before she could make a quip that would probably insinuate that he was being cheap. From the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a rectangular book bound by pink ribbons along the spine. He slipped it into her hands, their fingers brushing at the exchange.
Ichigo’s fingers gently flipped through the small book, the quizzical furrow of her brow smoothing as it revealed pictures that he had captured over the past two years, the vast majority being photos of her.
“I had to develop the last photos I took today before I could give you your gift.” Her eyes stayed fixed on the album with her lips pursed shut. “I thought it'd be good for you to see.” More silence followed, crashing a wave of hesitation over him.
“Because you've brought all of us so much joy, and you deserve to see yourself how we see you. How I see you.”
At last, Ichigo lifted her head to meet his face with watery, tear stricken eyes. Her face contorted as she released a quiet sob that sent a stream of tears down her cheeks.
“I'm…sorry?” He took a step back and ran a frantic hand through his hair. “If you don't like it, it's fine! I should've asked you what kind of gift you wanted,” Ryou stammered through flustered hand gestures.
“No! These are happy tears,” she reassured, taking a step forward to close the space between them. “Also sad tears. But not in the way you think.” She swiped a sleeve across her eyes. “I appreciate how you've been there to support me. To cheer me up this past year because of my break up. But the truth is, I'm not heartbroken anymore. That pain faded a while ago.”
“Then why have you been so sad?”
“Because I've fallen for you,” she said. An immediate silence, quiet enough to hear a pin drop, fell between them. Her words had come out in a bare whisper, but it had carried into his ears like the stream of a melody that played in tune with the rhythmic pounding of his blood. And just like that, Ryou felt his heart swell as his head began to spin in opposition at her confession. Am I dreaming? This cannot be real, he thought.
“I’ve loved you for the longest time, but I didn’t realize it. And I was too scared to say anything. I don't think my heart can take a rejection or pain like that again. Besides, who'd want me around?” Ichigo laughed sardonically as a mass of tears threatened to break. “I'm annoying and have nothing to offer. You might end up leaving me, too.”
“Oh, Ichigo. Don’t you dare say that ever again.” Perhaps it had come out aggressively, because it startled her out of her sobbing.
“I have loved you from the start. There has not been a day where I thought you were anything other than extraordinary.” He wiped a stray tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
“Not true,” she laughed with a wide smile. “You thought I was annoying.”
“Annoying and beautiful,” he smiled in turn, chucking her chin with the crook of his finger. “And brave. And ferocious.” His hands slid along her jaw to cup the sides of her face. “And quite possibly, the only person I will ever love.”
A puff of breath floated from her parted mouth, ghosting against his lips. An invitation, an urgency to pull forth and be loved by her soft lips. Ichigo’s lashes fluttered shut, and Ryou leaned in to kiss his beloved. He pulled her body flush against his own, every curve melding against his figure as it sought her heat in the same way his lips and tongue sought the warmth of her mouth.