The school day ended with the same scatter of chatter and footsteps, but Yu hardly heard any of it. He kept stealing glances at Taichi as they walked side by side, their bags bumping lightly between them. Taichi's silence was heavier than usual, his hands shoved in his pockets, and those faintly red ears hadn't cooled since lunchtime.
Finally, Yu blurted.
"So… um… Taichi?"
"Yeah?"
Taichi glanced at him, cautious.
Yu fidgeted with the strap of his bag.
"That thing they were talking about. The… one-month anniversary."
He stumbled over the words like they were foreign candy on his tongue.
"Do… do we have to do something?"
For a beat, Taichi said nothing. Then he exhaled, a slow, almost sheepish sound.
"We don't have to. But… usually couples do. It's just… a way to say, 'we've made it this far together.'"
Yu tilted his head, thinking. Thirty days. A single month. But for someone like Yuliain, the (former) Incubus King, who'd never even been kissed before all this… that's already a lifetime of new experiences.
"I see…"
Yu murmured. His chest warmed, fluttering like it always did when he thought too hard about what "boyfriend" meant.
"So… what would we even do? Go out somewhere? Eat something special? Do people exchange gifts?"
Taichi rubbed the back of his neck, clearly flustered by Yu's genuine curiosity.
"Some people do. Some just… spend the day together. I don't care what it is. As long as it's with you."
The words hit Yu like a stone skipping across water—small, simple, but rippling deep inside him. He looked down, cheeks pink.
"…It sounds… nice. To celebrate. Just us."
Taichi's lips curved into a rare, soft smile.
"Then it's a date."
Yu blinked, startled.
"A… date?"
"Yeah."
Taichi said firmly, his confidence returning now that he'd said it aloud.
"Our one-month anniversary. I'll plan something. You just… show up. That's all I want."
Yu walked the rest of the way home in a daze, DK01's voice faint in the back of his head.
[You are processing this well. For someone who once viewed human courtship as bizarre, you seem to be… dare I say… excited.]
Yu clutched his bag a little tighter, heart thumping against his ribs.
'Excited? …Maybe.'
But when he glanced up again at Taichi's profile—steady, calm, determined to make him happy—Yu realized DK01 was probably right.
---
From his seat at the student council office, Isuke pretended to focus on the neat stack of papers spread across his desk. In reality, his ears caught every word of the gossip drifting from the open door.
"—a whole month already?"
"—they're so lovey-dovey—"
"—Taichi really lucked out—"
Isuke's pen stopped moving.
'A month?'
He lifted his gaze just enough to see Yukio Hokohayashi outside the window, laughing softly at something Fujimori or Satō said while walking closely beside Arifukua. His posture was relaxed, more confident than he had been a month ago. The change was noticeable. Admirable.
But Isuke's chest tightened.
'A relationship… now?'
Yukio's scholarship was a fragile thread. One slip, one distraction, and it could snap.
Relationships—especially with someone like Taichi Arifukua—were unpredictable, messy. Isuke had seen it happen to other students before: good grades lost, opportunities wasted.
'He can't afford to fall behind. Not him.'
Isuke folded his hands atop his papers, masking his worry behind his practiced calm. As student council president, it was his job to look out for everyone. But somehow, when it came to Yukio Hokohayashi, the responsibility weighed heavier.
---
One week flew fast and it was finally their one month anniversary day.
Saturday dawned bright and crisp, the late spring air smelling faintly of fresh greenery. Yu awoke to the rustle of fabric and the soft thump of a bag being zipped.
"Taichi?"
Yu mumbled, sitting up groggily in the bed.
Taichi turned, caught mid-motion with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His expression was uncharacteristically earnest, ears tinged pink.
"Morning. Get dressed."
Yu blinked, still half-asleep.
"Why? Where are we going?"
"Our anniversary."
Taichi said simply, like that explained everything.
"I told you I'd plan something. So…"
His eyes softened.
"Trust me?"
Yu's heart skipped.
'A date. Our first real date.'
He nodded, fumbling to his feet with DK01 whispering sly commentary in the back of his mind.
[Observation: your pulse has accelerated by 23%. You're that excited for this, aren't you?]
Yu pressed a hand to his chest.
'Yeah… maybe I am.'
As Taichi reached out, threading their fingers together, Yu let himself smile. Whatever Taichi had planned, it was theirs—and that was enough.
---
Taichi's surprise didn't happen by accident. It was small, stubborn, and mapped out in exacting detail—his way of apologizing for the ways he'd been, and of trying to give Yu something gentle and un-pressured in return.
He woke before dawn to go over the checklist.
Taichi ticked things off on the paper like it was a mission dossier: breakfast (something Yu liked and wouldn't choke on), three "memory stops" (places that had become theirs in tiny ways over the last month), a private place to finish the day, and a final thing—something just for Yu, no crowd, no teasing, no live-streamed levels of embarrassment. He wrote times, packed water, snagged a cheap but pretty blindfold, and then called Fumiko and Sakura under the flimsiest pretense—"I need help hauling a thing."
Sakura squealed and volunteered her camera and playlists. Fumiko—reluctant, careful—signed on to bake a tiny cake and hide it in the last stop's cooler. Yamato and Souma were given two jobs each: show up at the park with excuses to be "random" and to act as a decoy in case something went sideways. Taichi muttered at them the kind of threats that made rough boys do favors.
"Don't mess this up."
They promised, grinning, because they liked being useful and because Yu was the sort of person you wanted to protect—even when Taichi didn't say it.
Taichi wrote Yu four tiny notes—one for each stop. He hated how sappy the paper looked in his own handwriting, but he folded them carefully anyway. Short things like:
"Remember the pastry?" —
"Don't trip at the arcade." —
"You laughed like an idiot that night." —
and the last one he couldn't re-read without his chest tightening.
---
That morning, Taichi made breakfast. Pancakes that looked like a novice's attempt, but they were flavored with the tiny things he'd noticed Yu liked—just a little more syrup, a small knob of butter shaped like a heart. He almost burned the first batch. He didn't, and Yu ate them with delighted embarrassment, and that small, messy start set the tone. Taichi watched Yu carefully—when to reach for water, when to give space, the way Yu's hand brushed the table when he was thinking. He tried to train himself to be present and measured rather than anxious.
After breakfast was over, the pair left the apartment hand in hand. Yu wore an especially new and trending red knee length skirt with a white blouse. His long white hair was bound into a fishtail braid held together by a big red bow. His makeup was beautifully done with his lips tinged a bright shade of red.
Taichi cleaned himself up more so then usually as well. He wore a white button down shirt, a green tie and black slacks. His black wild hair was slick back and pulled into a low ponytail. He looked more mature for his age when properly dressed.
Taichi's plan threaded through places that had become their's. The corner bakery where Yu had first pretended not to be dazzled by the sweets; the little arcade where Yu had blushed after karaoke night; and the bench near the river where they'd once sat and carved initials into the bark of a bench because Yu had thought it romantic and Taichi had selfishly let him.
At each stop, Yu found a folded note and a small thing—an extra pastry, a token coin for the arcade claw machine, a goofy polaroid Sakura had taken earlier of Taichi attempting to win a plush. Yu's face slid through a dozen different soft colors as he read: confusion, delight, embarrassment, and then something steadier—real gratitude. He kept saying "Thank you" in whispers, and each time Taichi's mouth wanted to answer with something bigger than "you're welcome," it collapsed into a softer look instead.
"For the last part..."
Taichi said in the doorway of the final stop, all noise of the city dimming behind them. He offered the blindfold like it was an offering.
"Just trust me. Please."
Yu hesitated. Even after a month, being led felt like giving up a tiny piece of safety, but his trust for Taichi had grown into something that felt deliberate rather than involuntary. He nodded, breathing even, and let Taichi tie the cloth gently around his eyes.
Taichi's hands were steady. He leaned close enough that Yu could feel the warmth of his breath.
"Okay."
He whispered.
"One more walk."
They moved in silence. Taichi's fingers found Yu's hand and squeezed once—no grip, just a promise. They walked until the city noise softened under distance and the scent of night-blooming flowers drifted up. Steps clicked on the rooftop ladder and then the last creak of a door. Taichi's whole body hummed with a nervousness he kept swallowing down.
"Ready?"
Taichi's voice was impossibly small and huge at once.
Yu nodded.
"Open your eyes."
The cloth was untied. Light spilled over him—the rooftop was a private world.
String lights had been strung in an imperfect heart across a low clothesline. Cushions and blankets made a mottled island against the low wall. Sakura's camera rested on a tripod, its red light blinking. Fumiko stood by with a tiny cake on a plate, flickering a single candle. Yamato and Souma pretended to be useless on the far end of the roof, cracking stupid jokes and failing spectacularly at acting breezy. There was a small portable speaker playing an old, familiar song—one Yu had hummed on the way home that very morning. A little photo collage—moments from the last month: a blurred karaoke snap, the pastry selfie, a picture of Yu looking skyward as if waiting for something—hung pinned to a makeshift frame. Everything was small, hand-made, imperfect in the way that matters.
Yu's eyes filled before he could make them stop. Not from embarrassment—though that burned too—but because the whole thing was stitched from attention and time. Taichi had spent hours at the edges of his comfort and pride to make this.
Taichi's breath hitched. He didn't speak for a long heartbeat; his mouth worked around the words like they were heavy stones.
"I—"
He nearly faltered. Then he took a step closer and hand Yu the last folded note in his hands. Yu opened it.
"Happy one month anniversary, Yu. I like you so much."
Yu's hands trembled holding it. He felt foolish and enormous and very, very small all at once. A laugh, half-cry, half-joy, slipped out of him.
"Taichi… this is—"
He swallowed.
"This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."
Taichi's jaw softened into something like relief. He had done what he'd set out to do: make Yu feel safe, chosen, and seen—without railings and storms and possessive traps.
Together they sat on some cushions, courtesy of Yamato. Fumiko insisted on singing happy little made-up lines as Sakura filmed the moment and whispered "content" into the small camera, which made Yu giggle helplessly. They shared the cake in ridiculous little forkfuls, fed each other with more dramatic sloppiness than either intended. Taichi's hand found Yu's in the open, not crushing, only enclosing.
At some point the playlist shifted and a soft ballad came on—the kind that asks for small things and brave words. Taichi rose, voice a low steadiness that had nothing to prove except that he could try. He sang quietly at first: not polished, not meant for the crowd, only for Yu. It wasn't angelic; it was honest, a low sound that matched the warmth Yu had come to love. When Yu answered—because he couldn't help it—they found their voices folding into each other, perfect harmonies that felt like a balanced promise.
Yu pressed his forehead against Taichi's shoulder, water-bright and laughing softly.
"Thank you."
He said again, less because he hadn't already said it and more because the words needed saying in the air between them.
Taichi didn't crow or claim. He simply let his chest expand around the sound, a private pride that had learned a new shape.
"I'll keep learning,"
He whispered.
"I'll mess up a lot. But I'll try."
Yu snuggled in like a warm thing.
"That's all I wanted."
DK01, in the quiet twine of Yu's head, made a small, unusually human-sounding noise:
[Ding! Love-o-meter has reached 49%. You have achieved a high-stability emotional event. Notable: subject Taichi is actively trying. Note two: the host's heart rates are stubbornly unprofessional."
Then, more tender than usual.
[Also—good playlist choice. He sings well.]
Taichi hid his smile by nuzzling Yu's hair. For a flash—just a flash—Yu thought of distant stars and darker skies and a name that still hovered in the back of his mind. His promise to Talo, the echo of all he was trying to fix—everything longed for and everything risked. Sadness sat beside the warmth for half a breath, a small, sensible ache that did not undo the moment but made it softer.
And then they laughed; the rooftop was small enough that laughter folded in on itself and sounded like a whole world.
The group settled after the cake, after the laughter and teasing from the others had tapered into chatter on the far side of the rooftop. Fumiko and Sakura were deliberately giving them space now, though Yu could still feel the warmth of their approval like a second layer of the string lights.
Taichi fidgeted. His hand kept brushing his pocket as though it might burn a hole through the fabric. Finally, with a grunt that was half resignation and half courage, he pulled something out and set it in Yu's palm.
It was… a keychain. A sturdy little leather strap with a tiny metal charm at the end—two interlocking shapes, one green, one red. It was simple, not flashy. But the red piece was unmistakably Yu's color, and the green was Taichi's.
"It's—uh. So you don't lose your keys."
Taichi muttered, ears reddening.
"But also… it's like. You carry me, I carry you. Dumb, I know."
Yu stared down at it, lips parting. For a moment he could only hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Then he smiled—slow, trembling, utterly sincere.
"It's not dumb. It's… it's perfect."
Taichi tried to look away, but Yu's reaction pinned him harder than any lock or grab could. His chest hurt in that warm, unbearable way that felt like growth.
And then Yu startled, fumbling in his own bag.
"Ah—wait! I—uh—I got you something too, but it's…"
He winced.
"…Not as cool."
He pulled out a small pouch. Inside was a collection of hair ties—different colors, some plain, some patterned. Yu's hands shook a little as he held them out.
"Since you keep stealing mine. Now you'll… um… have your own. But you have to promise to only wear these ones, okay? Oh but can the red ones are mine? I like red."
For a long moment, Taichi simply stared. Then, slow as sunrise, he began to laugh—low, husky, but full.
"You're serious."
Yu's cheeks burned.
"Of course I am!"
Taichi slipped one of the green ties around his wrist immediately, holding it up like proof.
"Fine. Green for me. Red for you. Got it."
He leaned in, his grin turning softer.
"Now I'll never forget."
Yu puffed his cheeks, embarrassed, but when Taichi ruffled his hair, the embarrassment melted into a tiny, helpless giggle.
The city hummed below them, neon and streetlights spilling like a second constellation. The string lights above flickered softly, imperfect but steady.
By the time their friends drifted away, leaving them the rooftop to themselves, Yu and Taichi had curled together beneath one of the blankets. Taichi's arm was a firm, warm band around Yu's shoulders, Yu's head tucked neatly against his chest. Neither of them needed words now—their gifts, clumsy and practical as they were, spoke enough.
The air was cool, the world wide and loud beneath them, but for that moment it was just the two of them, bound by color and promise and the unsteady rhythm of learning to love.
And under the city's hum, they both fell quiet, safe in the glow of their imperfect little anniversary.
---
The Monday that followed their quiet rooftop anniversary felt almost ordinary. The glow of string lights and the soft press of gifts had already been folded into memory, and the rhythm of school swept over them again.
Morning classes passed quickly, and by lunch Taichi had been pulled away—Souma and Yamato waving him off with some urgent "guy thing." Sakura and Fumiko, almost in tandem, excused themselves with promises to be right back.
Which left Yu. Alone.
He sat at his desk, fiddling with his pencil case, not sure whether to hum under his breath or scroll his phone. The classroom buzzed faintly with other clusters of friends, but his little circle's absence left a pocket of silence that felt oddly heavy.
It didn't stay empty for long.
Isuke Sasaki moved with his usual quiet precision, slipping up beside Yu's desk. His shadow fell across Yu's notebook, and when Yu looked up, those sharp, serious eyes were on him.
"Yu-kun—ah sorry—I mean, Yu-chan?"
Isuke said, his tone as level as always.
"I want to ask you something."
Yu blinked, polite and a little startled.
"Yes?"
Isuke's gaze didn't waver.
"Are you… really dating Taichi Arifukua?"
The words landed like a stone tossed into a still pond. Yu stiffened, the tips of his ears turning pink almost instantly.
He'd heard whispers in the halls before—rumors traded in muffled tones about the new "girl" with the strange name, about Taichi's sudden transformation into a protective shadow. But hearing it asked outright, face-to-face, made his heart lurch.
"…Why?"
Yu asked softly, voice caught between confusion and defensiveness.
Isuke's brows furrowed, faint but telling.
"Because I've been hearing it everywhere. And because if it's true…"
He paused, choosing his words with care.
"Then I'm concerned."
Yu's pulse thudded hard in his ears, DK01 flickering awake in the back of his mind like static—quiet for now, but watchful.