We Are Like Fireworks
Heavy. Hot.
She stumbled barefoot across the desolate landscape. A thunderous rumble shook the sky, and the earth beneath her feet split apart.
A surge of fiery magma erupted upward.
"Ah!"
The heat scorched her skin, threatening to consume her. She was thrown into the air, only to plummet toward another eruption of molten flame. Her limbs melted away—
"Mm…"
Her lashes fluttered open. Olive-green eyes blinked with dazed confusion, soft and vulnerable, like those of a newborn fawn.
As her vision cleared, she realized there was someone lying across her. Silver hair tangled with black, a pale, haggard face resting against her.
"Shiraishi," Shiba Kūkaku whispered, quickly rolling him off and sitting up.
He only snored, still sound asleep.
She exhaled in relief. At least he was alive.
Her stomach growled. She felt so empty it was as if she were made of paper. They had slept for three days and three nights straight—not ten, but enough to blur memory into a haze.
Kūkaku groaned, slapped her forehead, and slowly climbed out of bed. The aching pains from before were gone.
At the sink, she splashed water onto her face and chest. The soreness there had faded, leaving only faint traces. But the teeth marks—sharp, animal-like—remained, stamped into her skin.
"That guy must've been born in the Year of the Dog," she muttered, tugging at her collar.
Her old clothes were ruined, so she slipped into one of Shiraishi's T-shirts and overalls. They hung loose, exposing her midriff. She pulled on a leather jacket, zipped just enough to hold, and finally draped her beige cloak over herself.
From the safe, she grabbed a stack of clean bills, ignoring the crumpled, damp ones. With money in hand, she opened the cliff wall.
Sunlight spilled in. The air outside was hotter than the cool cave interior. Squinting until her eyes adjusted, she stepped out and vanished toward Lichun Town.
The West Tenth District's only commercial hub was bustling despite the heat. Sweat-soaked crowds filled the streets, the air thick with unpleasant odor. Locals ignored it, noses long since dulled.
Kūkaku drifted to the side, hesitating.
She had planned to buy ready-made food, but then remembered Shiraishi once praising Nie Yinmeng's cooking. Should she try cooking herself? Prove she could handle wilderness survival?
After a moment's thought, she shook her head. Too much hassle. Instead, she walked into an eel house.
It wasn't lunchtime yet, so the place was nearly empty. A waiter hurried over, bowing. "Miss, what would you like? Our eel rice is the best in Lichun Town."
"How much?" Kūkaku asked.
"Four thousand kan per bowl," he said quickly, hiding the fact that it was their most expensive dish.
"Twenty servings. Takeaway."
"…Twenty?" The waiter froze. That was eighty thousand kan—no small sum in Rukongai. For a moment, he thought she was joking.
But Kūkaku calmly pulled out a wad of bills, all in thousands.
The waiter's smile widened. "At once!" He shouted to the kitchen, "Twenty servings eel rice, takeaway!" Then he set tea before her.
Kūkaku sipped, but the taste was poor. She pushed it aside and waited.
Before long, the waiter returned carrying a lacquered five-tier box. Each layer held steaming plates of eel rice.
Kūkaku handed over the eighty bills. He counted carefully, then bowed again. "Thank you very much. Please come again."
She left with the food, stopping at an izakaya for sake and snacks, spending the last of her bills before hurrying back to the cave.
Inside, Shiraishi still slept heavily. She set the food on the table and called, "Wake up. Aren't you hungry yet?"
No answer.
She went over, shook him. "Hey, get up."
"Mm…" He stirred groggily. "Let me sleep a little longer."
"Are you sure you're not hungry?"
The moment she said it, his stomach answered. Hunger overwhelmed the sleepiness, and his eyes shot open. "Eat!"
He leapt to the table, ripped open the box, grabbed a plate of eel rice, and devoured it.
"Don't finish it all before I get any!" Kūkaku yelped, rushing to snatch a plate herself.
By the time three layers were gone, Shiraishi finally slowed. He gulped down a bottle of sake in one swig, sighing. "Ahh, I'm alive again."
Kūkaku rolled her eyes. "Who made you so insane in the first place?"
He looked at her, expression sour. "Who do you think?"
She sipped her own sake, voice soft. "Don't blame me. You're the one who followed my lead the whole time."
"…Alright, alright, it's my fault." He shifted closer.
"Stop."
Kūkaku's gaze sharpened. "There's something I need to tell you. I'm leaving soon."
Shiraishi froze. "Why?"
"If I don't leave now, I might never be able to." She cupped her face in her hands, eyes shimmering like water. "I think I've really fallen in love with you. I even thought about cooking for you just now. If I stay… maybe I'll want to marry you. Maybe I'll even want children."
Shiraishi opened his mouth, but held back, listening.
"But I can't imagine a child calling me 'mom.' I can't imagine waking up every day with someone at my side. I can't promise there won't be fights in the long years ahead." She took another gulp of sake, then added firmly, "And I won't give up my dream—becoming the greatest pyrotechnician in all of Rukongai."
Her words spilled out all at once, raw and honest. Then she lowered the bottle, cheeks flushed, and looked at him.
"That's everything. Now—what about you? Do you want to keep me?"
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