Thanks were in order, and congratulations, so Asbel pushed his way through the throngs of overjoyed people. Everyone clambered over one another to hug and hold the resurrected Princess Nausicaa, and he could only wait his turn.
Someone realized his importance in the entirety of the journey and shouted. A thin path widened. He nodded his thanks and rushed through toward her unmistakable red hair. He called, and she turned, recognition and happiness in her eyes. She returned his cry, waving.
When he was closer he easily snatched her hand from the air and began shaking it vigorously, grin splitting his face, ear-to-ear. She was laughing, and suddenly he was too, and he couldn't help himself as he reached for her waist.
With his adrenaline powering his strength, she felt as light as air. He whirled her above his head, and after her initial shock, she seemed to relax into his hands, spreading her own. She looked like a bird soaring on the breeze.
It suited her well.
Inhibitions were long gone—out the window—and later, if someone asked questions, he could pass it off as 'heat of the moment' or 'celebratory'. And he knew that there were bound to be questions when suddenly he allowed his elbows to buckle and his arms to drop her down against him—her feet never quite touching the ground—and, inevitably, for their lips to crash together.
It didn't seem like a boundary had been crossed in their friendship as they hugged and giggled. The overpowering aura of the entire Valley was behind them, laughing in merriment, glad to be alive. They broke their kiss and stared at each other, red spreading across their faces.
But she was smiling, and suddenly, he was too, and he couldn't help himself; he did it again.