Sato is pulling on Takagi's sleeve when the counter staff at check-in is telling them that their flight is overbooked, and that they can get US$300 each in airline credit if they give up their seats on their morning flight back to Tokyo and take the afternoon flight instead. It's only Saturday morning, so even if they take the afternoon flight back home, they still can get one good day's rest before they have to report to work on Monday morning.
He asks for US$500 instead. Perhaps under normal circumstances, he would ask for cold hard cash instead of airline credit, but if they get money, it's not even very clear if they have to account for it to the department.
"Can we get complimentary access to the airline lounge too for a meal and to freshen up before the flight?" Sato asks, perfectly polite with a practised smile.
"I'm done!" Takagi declares, luggage still firmly locked.
"You didn't even open it!"
"I have a spare shirt and shorts in my bag, I'll change into this now and then wear my current clothes up the plane." He isn't crazy about the idea of opening his luggage when it's stuffed with his dirty clothes and a packet of Milo.
"Let's go to the beach!" Sato suggests as she unlocks her luggage and pokes around a little bit before pulling out her beach shorts and a loose tee, "and can't forget the sunscreen."
Meanwhile Takagi is checking the weather forecast - it would not be a good idea for their unexpected gift of a half day at the beach get rained out - and Singapore did rain.
Then after leaving their luggage for caretaking with the airline, changing into their outfits suitable for sunny tropical weather instead of those for a frigid flight home, on the recommendation of the airport staff, they are taking the long stroll to East Coast Park.
East Coast Park doesn't have the fine white sand or the crystal clear blue waters, and there are too many ships to count dotting in the horizon, but it's warm and sunny and they're outside with no worries, instead of cooperating with the local police on a case that started as a white collar crime that went sideways and ended in unnatural deaths.
It would be months before Tokyo was anything near this warm, and Tokyo is not really known for its extensive beaches, so it's welcome change.
"I should've brought slippers," Sato complains, feeling confined to the walking path, instead of being able walk on the sand, when she sees locals strolling on the sand instead of on the walking path.
"We didn't know that we would get to come to the beach."
That is true. She was already grateful enough that they managed to try a considerable amount of hawker fare in their time here, even if this was a function of them being pressed for time and trying to crack the case as soon as possible, but the local police took meals seriously and would takeaway food for all of them from a hawker centre nearby. After Shiratori's failure to order "Singapore noodles", they had just let the local police decide on the menu for the day and would happily chow it down.
That, and last night, after the culprit was arrested and the case solved, they managed to both visit the Merlion and try chilli crab. For a moment they were worried that they wouldn't be able to see the Merlion properly as the sun had already set, but not to worry, it was illuminated. Of course it would be illuminated. The entire skyline in the central business district was illuminated after dark. They had sat on the steps of Merlion Park for fifteen minutes just drinking in the view.
"I can carry your shoes and socks, and you can walk barefoot in the sand," Takagi pipes up.
"Come with me too," she asks, pulling on his hand towards the sand.
They do more than take a morning stroll in the sand hand in hand. They end up wading in seawater, and enjoying the smell of the sea (though admittedly it smelt faintly of engine oil), bags and shoes left unattended behind them in the sand. But if the locals did it, it was probably fine right?
Their bags and shoes remain exactly where they left them, and they walk along the beach until they see a showering point, where they cross the walking and bicycle paths to rinse the sand off their feet. They are sitting on a bench waiting for their feet to air dry, when they see and hear the ice cream man. Sato wipes her feet on a serviette from yesterday's seafood restaurant and washes her hands before slipping on her socks and shoes to see what ice cream is there, leaving Takagi struggling to keep up, digging around his bag for something to dry his feet with.
Sato comes back with a white ice cream slab with pink swirls wedged in a slice of colourful pastel bread and offers Takagi a bite.
"What is it?"
"Vanilla and some berry?" Sato answers after swallowing her first bite of ice cream, "I got it because I didn't recognise what it was."
Takagi takes a big chomp of the ice cream with the pastel bread.
"Tastes like childhood," Takagi comments as Sato plops back on the bench next to him.
"You've never eaten this before!"
"Like someone's childhood, not my childhood," he gestures at the kids who cannot be older than eight ordering ice cream and then coming away with holding a slab of ice cream sandwiched between two wafers.
"It's not bad though," he adds before reaching over to take another big bite.
"Not bad but you've eaten half the ice cream in two bites!" Sato teases, "do you not eat enough? Don't worry Takagi-kun, we'll be having a good meal at the airline lounge."
"It's not like you want me continuously lapping away at your ice cream like a dog. The bread will get soggy," he replies with a hand over his mouth when enough of the ice cream and bread has been swallowed.
Sato has to concede that that is true and this isn't an ice cream cone.
Ice cream demolished, Takagi's feet now dry, and hands rinsed, they continue strolling with no clear plan or destination in mind.
They decide to seek temporary refuge from the sun that might have gotten too hot in what looks like a hawker centre. Literally a beachfront hawker centre, but still with acceptable prices.
"I want to try the Singapore grilled chicken meat on a stick," Takagi tells Sato, pointing at the stall where there's a line of locals.
"But the airline gave us complimentary access to the lounge, apparently the lounge food is good, and we can eat all we want?"
"But it smells so good," he whines, knowing that Sato really can't (and won't) do anything about him since he can spend his own money on meat on a stick if he is so inclined, "and we can have a little snack before checking in?"
She nudges him towards the stall to place his order. He changes his mind and get three sticks each of what turns up to be chicken, beef and mutton, by pointing mutely at the photo with what seems like three different flavours. Before the plate even touches the table, Sato has already blindly swiped one off the plate.
"I thought you were going to eat all you want at the lounge?" Takagi playfully challenges.
"You have so many sticks, don't be selfish," she sticks just the tip of her tongue out in protest, before homing in on the lamb skewer too quickly and burning her tongue.
"There's time, don't be impatient."
"But I must try all the flavours. What if you polish everything off?"
"I'll leave at least one of everything for you to try, don't worry."
"I thought you said you were going to buy the chicken?"
"I changed my mind. I thought since we're here, might as well try everything."
"I don't think it was intended to be eaten absolutely slathered in peanut sauce," Takagi comments, watching as she tries to cover the entire skewer with as much peanut sauce that would stick.
"Excuse me, are you a local telling me how I should or should not eat my chicken skewers?"
"I think they would say that I should've gotten more than nine sticks because I should know, okay I knew, that you'd be helping yourself to it."
"Noooo, we still have to go back to the airport, check in, and eat our fill at the airline lounge."
"If you intend to treat the airline lounge like a leisurely buffet, and not a buffet with a ninety minute time limit, I think we better head back to the airport after we finish up with these."
They manage to snag a taxi back by hanging around in the carpark nearby, and waiting for someone to get out of one. Sato double checks with the counter staff that they will have access to the airline lounge, as well as a chance to take a shower prior to their flight (otherwise they will have to find another way to get the sweat off), before doing some repacking and checking their luggage in, many hours after initially scheduled. The counter staff shows them the remaining seats which they can choose from, and after some deliberation, they choose the second last row of seats on the right side of the plane because it's not in front of a toilet even if it's near the galley. It's not like they have many good options, and there are only two seats next to each other, which really is the main attraction. So they can cuddle as much as they want without anyone giving them a stink eye.
Neither of them can say that they exactly know what they're eating in the airline lounge. For sure it's not Japanese food, and it doesn't seem to be "international" cuisine (whatever that means), so it's probably something more like Singaporean food. To be fair, many things seem to pass as Singaporean food. Sato is not complaining, having eaten her fill before even starting to fill her second stomach dedicated to dessert. Here, she opts for what she thinks must be the "international" offerings because for whatever reason, the Singaporean desserts on offer (which all seem to be some sort of paste or syrup with something suspended within or some sort of firm sticky pudding) don't tickle her fancy. She will take the chocolate hazelnut crunch, fruit tarts, colourful macarons and chocolate eclairs thank you very much. Speaking of which, with how many bubble tea stores there were around the country, why couldn't she order a bubble tea in the lounge?
Takagi has raised the white flag a long time ago, sipping on his lemongrass-ginger tea, admiring Sato savouring her desserts.
"You can go take a shower first," she offers, pointing in the direction of the bathroom, "it's not that interesting for you to sit here and watch me eat."
He snorts, "it's more interesting to be taking a shower?"
"You can take your own sweet time to enjoy a shower. Judging from the amenities, I don't think the shower will be half bad."
"Then after you're done eating and taking a shower, we can go walk around the airport?"
"If that's what my Wataru wants," she replies, with half a macaron in her mouth, "though if it's the butterfly garden that you wish to visit, I doubt it's air-conditioned, so maybe you should put off that shower for a bit."
He exhales through his nose in mock displeasure, "then why did you tell me to go and shower in the first place?"
"If you want to go to the butterfly garden, then you should say so. I can't read your mind."
Takagi notes that this runs exactly counter to what she has just said - she does know what he's thinking.
"I didn't want to pressure you to eat more quickly," he mumbles into his cup, "since I know this is a highlight for you."
She grins at him, "don't worry. There's enough time for me to finish my dessert, go to the butterfly garden, take a shower and get on our flight back home. And spending time with my loveable boyfriend is a highlight too."
He can't mind at all that she's rendered him all red in the face when the words are so sweet and without any hint of teasing. She's also blushing.
"I want to know who thought it would be the perfect idea to put a butterfly garden in an airport terminal," Sato comments after they are past two heavy doors and a waterfall of chains and back into the stuffy heat.
"I mean, same country that decided to build a statute of a lion head with a fish tail that spits water constantly despite the law against spitting?"
"Oh hi there," Takagi greets the butterfly which has landed on his shoulder, "nice to meet you."
The butterfly seems to flap its wings in response to Takagi's greetings, even though logically he knows that the butterfly does not understand him.
"How do you like living here? Do you wish that you could go outside?"
He really should stop talking to the butterfly as if it could respond. The butterfly leaves his shoulder and goes to what Takagi believes is a feeding station since there are multiple butterflies which seem to be feeding there on what he guesses is a sugar solution.
"I guess you're happy here then. But if you've lived your whole life in this bubble, how would you even know anything about living outside?"
The intention of this butterfly garden is for visitors to watch and admire the butterflies, but they don't look all too different to Sato. Big black butterfly, small brown butterfly, they're all butterflies, and she doesn't know any better to be able to tell the difference (and the signs which she cannot read are not helping matters). So she's taken to watching Takagi observing butterflies, trying to communicate with them and musing aloud about life. Actually butterflies seem to like him because a yellow butterfly has landed on his head, and hasn't moved from its perch even while Takagi glides slowly through the butterfly garden.
"Can you understand what Takagi-kun is saying?" she asks the butterflies on the railing next to her. The butterflies on the railing all abandon ship.
"You didn't like the butterflies too much did you?" he asks when they're heading to the bathroom to get cleaned up.
"The whole concept of having a butterfly garden in an airport terminal was interesting. I would recommend it because it's free and it is an experience, but I'm sure you enjoyed it more."
"It's an animal cafe but for butterflies!"
She wonders if that includes that the animals don't know life outside of the animal cafe. She definitely couldn't pet the butterflies though - she'd end up crushing them to death between her index and middle finger like she did in elementary school.
Once they're safely in the air, Sato unbuckles her seatbelt, pushes the armrest out of the way and snuggles into a sleepy Takagi's side. Takagi fumbles around with the blanket until they're both tucked under the blanket.
"This was fun," she whispers into his neck, "we should go on holiday together again."
He's too groggy and comfortable to retort that this wasn't a holiday.