As a college student, Seo Ryousuke would like to consider himself a mature and cool individual. And he is. He's a mature and cool individual who decides to drop by and visit his family after getting off his part-time job tonight because all his buddies are at a goukon, and he doesn't want to stay in the apartment and mope alone. Yuzuki's always so tactless and loud and violent – so spending time with his dear little sister is just what he needs right now to snap out of this little funk. To his surprise, she isn't home. Yuzuki's out at a matsuri with Chiyo-chan, his mother says, and a couple of other friends. That sounds suspiciously like it's a double date of some sort (and he sinks a little further into gloom), and he has nothing to do anyway, so he bolts down his cup of tea as fast as possible and dashes over to the festival area.
The place is packed and heaving with so much miscellaneous noise that he doubts he'll be able to locate Yuzuki by listening out for her, so he just sighs thinly and weaves his way into the crowd. It's guaranteed he'll feel more than a little lonely among so many couples, but festivals are meant for all to enjoy, so he still manages to get into a tolerably cheerful state of mind. Ryousuke throws himself diligently into the game booths, and is rewarded for his efforts with a bagful of bright-eyed little fish and a wide assortment of sweets which he absentmindedly throws into his mouth all at one go (his jaws pay the price for that, though). While meandering aimlessly through the crowd, he finds himself in front of the shooting stall.
Ryousuke's got his hands full enough with the fish and candy wrappers as it is, but the stall owner looks at him with a twinkling eye and the next thing he knows he's laying down the requisite amount of yen for five shots. As he slips the plastic bullets into the toy rifle provided, the old man sidles ever so slightly closer to him and asks, with a knowing look at the bag of fish, if he's hoping to win something for his young lady, perhaps? He can't hide the blush that rises to his cheeks, and that's answer enough, even though he doesn't say anything out loud. Anyway, it's not like he could tell this old man that he hardly knows anything about the girl he likes, and is incapable of holding up a decent conversation with her, and that his younger sister probably gets more action than him or something. He levels the gun, and fires.
The old man cheerily informs him that he managed to hit something tricky, and ushers him towards the display of remaining prizes. There's a variety of plush toys fastened to the wooden board like animals for the slaughter, interspersed with random trinkets and accessories. When he hems and haws uncertainly, hand hovering over a rather nondescript mask, the stall owner obligingly shuffles over and shoves one of the plush toys into his arms. He's a little put out at that, but when he examines it closely it doesn't look that bad – it's a tanuki. Ryousuke thanks the geezer and offers a small smile as he turns to go, adding that he's sure his girlfriend will love it. He's enthusiastically waved off.
Squatting next to the trash can for a while to rest a bit and throw his rubbish away, Ryousuke finally catches sight of his sister tearing through the crowd and cackling obnoxiously, tailed by a kouhai in uniform and a long-suffering expression. He should have expected this, really. But it hurts, alright. To be such a loser in love that even a demonic, rude, and sloppily dressed sibling could beat him out. He rocks back on his heels, staring very hard at the threads of his trim shirt and cardigan, at the fold of his trousers, at his sneaker-shod feet. Ryousuke has considered going to look for Chiyo-chan (and some sympathy) but when he manages to catch sight of her trademark bows, he sees that she's talking to this extremely tall guy and – did they just share a candy apple? Gosh. He moodily pulls at the tanuki's ears.
But when he next looks up to scan the crowd, the petulant sulk is wiped right off his face and replaced with blank wonder. By some miracle of chance, his eyes have lighted upon the girl who's been occupying his thoughts and he gracefully unfolds his frame to stand and get a better view of her face why is she even here oh god does she live around here should I go up to her and say hi okay I have to go up to her and say hi –
Miyako Yukari is standing by the railing that skirts some park, elevated above the streets on which the festival is being held, and watching the scene before her (still smiling that trademark smile, he notes). Ryousuke makes his way over to her as quickly as possible, both hoping that she'll see him approaching and be happy about him and quailing at the thought of her spotting him and running away before he reaches her. Still, to see Miyako-san here…she always smiles mysteriously in reply to any of his questions about her part-time job, and it's so hard for him to get up the nerve to talk to her in the first place.
It takes longer than he expected to shoulder his way through the mass of festival-goers, all milling about excitedly as the time for the fireworks release draws closer. Some wailing kid waylays him and refuses to let go of his pant leg too, until he fobs the brat off by giving him the bag of goldfish as a present (for some reason, he feels like he shouldn't part with the tanuki). As he sprints up the last stretch of paved walkway towards where Miyako is standing, he takes a deep breath; Ryousuke's determined not to let her smile her way out of this conversation.
He raises an arm and calls out.
"Miyako-san! I – it's nice to see you h-here." He tries to grin cheerily.
Miyako visibly starts and spins to face the owner of that voice. She definitely wasn't expecting someone she knew from college to turn up here, even though she technically isn't doing anything manga-related right now so there's nothing to worry about, right? That's Seo Ryousuke-kun running towards her, looking harmless enough and kind of cute, but he's clutching a tanuki. A plush toy tanuki.
Immediately Miyako's mind leaps into overdrive, assuming the worst – what does he know? How would he even have heard about her tanuki-loving reputation as a manga artist? Shit shit shit. She busts out the trademark enigmatic smile, but it feels incredibly plastic on her face as she tries not to entertain the notion that her manga artist job has been discovered. Her attempt at a pleasant greeting comes out ghastly.
"A-ara, Ryousuke-kun, I, er – it's such a surprise to see you here…?"
Ryousuke takes one look at the thinly-disguised grimace on her face and his spirits come crashing back down to earth. He's about to make his awkward farewells and slink off to lick his wounds on some far-off park bench, when he notices, through the haze of his distress, that Miyako is frowning more at the tanuki in his arms than at him. He immediately whips it behind his back and tries again.
Looking extremely apologetic, he stutters it out. "Uh, ah, Miyako-san, I'm s-sorry for not realising that y-you didn't like tanukis."
"Sorry, b-but I really wanted to come up and say h-hi to you, so –um – I'll just b-be going now."
Ryousuke hastily bows and turns to flee, free hand over his very red face – and is jerked back when his cardigan catches on something. A person's grip, that is. Miyako isn't sure why she reacted this way, but something in her gut is telling her that she wants him to stay, that she wants to hear him out. That she wants to have a conversation with him. Strange. Now she's the one turning red. Miyako and Ryousuke freeze there for a long moment in this arresting tableau, neither of them able to speak clearly, or stop blushing, or look anywhere but at each other.
Miyako breaks the stalemate by gently prying the tanuki from Ryousuke's tight grip, uncurling his tightly fisted hand finger by finger, and watching his cheeks flame impossibly bright under the dim street lighting.
"Sorry for just now, Ryousuke-kun," she smiles carefully, "I was just – ah, worried about something."
And he wants to ask what? but he doesn't, because he can tell that now isn't the right time to insist that she be fully honest with him (besides, his mind is still reeling a little from the jolts he receives when her fingers are on his).
"I actually…am quite fond of tanukis," Miyako says, and folds the thing into an embrace, sending him a gently radiant smile; another of her trademarks, he thinks.
Ryousuke offers a lopsided, wistful grin in response, exhaling in relief. Truth be told, he's rather envious of that tanuki right now, but makes himself content with the thought that he'd been hugging it throughout most of the evening already – he wonders if she can feel his warmth on it, and flushes again at the thought. She's watching the fireworks, and he's watching her watch the fireworks (he is such a sap), happy to lean his lanky frame on the railing next his not-so-secret (and very oblivious) crush as she beams at the fireworks above them.
He sends her home after that, pausing reluctantly on her doorstep, and Miyako begins to internally panic again because if he asks to come in he'll definitely see all the her manga tools and books lying around. She twitches when he steps forward, fixes his eyes on the tanuki still in her arms, and says
"Miyako-san, can I –"and he breaks off, stiffening.
She's not sure what to think in that moment. Can he what? Talk with her some more? Come in and have a cup of tea? Have the tanuki back? Oh, is that it? She looks down at the tanuki, holds it a little closer.
" – can I have a hug too?"
Miyako blinks once, twice.
But Ryousuke's tone is low and pleading, and combined with the heady relief she feels at his not asking to come into the apartment, and his letting her keep the tanuki, Miyako's not at all unwilling to give him a hug. So she steps forward and squeezes him quickly around the middle, tanuki still in one hand.
A blush spreads over Ryousuke's face, but he manages to wrap one arm around Miyako's shoulders before she pulls back, and lean down a little to nuzzle her hair. The corners of his mouth turn up.
"T-thank you f-for this evening," he stutters out before leaving.
And she replies with a mumbled, "T-thank you for the tanuki."
They'll see each other in school again and not be able to have a conversation without blushing for weeks, even if the topic of conversation is utterly banal.
"What's so embarrassing about discussing zoo animals?" is what all of their friends ask, and they don't know how to answer.
But secretly, they both know it's because of the tanuki.