Bare cherry trees lined the main path of the amusement park, their branches casting dappled shadows in the afternoon sunlight. The two of them walked and talked beneath them.
“When did you start living on your own?” Mizuho asked.
“Ah…” Yuan Qing thought for a moment. “Around sixteen. My dad figured I was old enough and basically stopped looking after me. By eighteen, I’d come to Tokyo.”
“Sixteen is still just a child.”
“I’m nineteen now.”
“That’s still young.”
Though Mizuho herself was only a little over twenty.
Occasionally, other visitors passed by, but none had time to stop for their story.
Yuan Qing didn’t respond. He walked beside Mizuho, slowing his pace slightly so she could keep up.
The raven poked its head out of Mizuho’s bag, looked left and right, then ducked back inside.
Ahead was a crêpe stand. A pink-and-white food truck hung with a row of colored lights. Mizuho stopped, pointed at the truck, and looked at Yuan Qing.
“Want one?”
“Sure.”
Mizuho walked over. “‘Sure’ means yes.”
She bought two. Strawberry and cream.
Mizuho handed one to Yuan Qing. He took it, looked at it, and took a bite. The cream was a little rich, but the sweet strawberry juice balanced it out.
“Good?”
“Not bad.”
Mizuho took a bite too. “That means good.”
It really was good. A calorie bomb, after all.
They continued along the main path. The carousel’s colored lights looked dim in the afternoon sun, but the music was still loud—a waltz whose name neither of them knew, spinning round and round in the air.
Mizuho stopped at the railing, watching the up-and-down motion of the wooden horses.
“Wanna ride?”
“For kids.”
“Says who?”
Mizuho pointed at a man in a suit sitting on one of the horses. He was smiling faintly, amusing the child in his arms. Obviously a father with his kid. But Mizuho didn’t care about that—she just wanted to contradict Yuan Qing.
Yuan Qing looked at the father, then at Mizuho.
“…Sure.”
“Heh, you’re soft,” Mizuho laughed, a hint of teasing in her voice. “You’re the gentlest person in the world.”
She quickly walked ahead to pick a horse. She circled the small plaza once and finally chose a white one. Its mane was painted pale gold, and the saddle was studded with fake plastic gems that sparkled in the sun.
Yuan Qing followed and picked a black one beside it at random.
“This one’s like you,” Mizuho said.
“How?”
“The color.”
“…”
“Don’t worry, I’m not forcing you to ride. I’ll go myself.”
The music started again, and the carousel began to spin.
Mizuho held onto the golden pole, rising and falling with the wooden horse. The wind lifted her hair, making her look particularly youthful.
She looked back at Yuan Qing. He sat on the black horse, hands resting loosely on its mane, expression blank, looking distinctly old-fashioned.
Mizuho glanced at him.
“Mr. Luo,” she teased, “you look like there’s a monster right next to you.”
“…”
“Loosen up and have fun!” Mizuho called out. “Magical Girls are protecting us, right, kids?”
At that, all the kids on the carousel cheered.
“Yeah!”
“I wanna be a Magical Girl too!”
“Fight monsters!”
Yuan Qing remained speechless. “…”
Mizuho raised a peace sign like she’d claimed victory.
Next up was bumper cars.
Several cars were already running inside the arena, rubber tires screeching against the metal floor, mixed with shrieks from kids and laughter from adults.
Mizuho was first in line. When her turn came, she hurried toward a pink car.
“You take that one.” She pointed to a black one nearby.
Yuan Qing sat inside.
The bumper car was narrow. His knees pressed against the underside of the steering wheel, making his sitting posture look cramped.
The raven poked its head out of the bag, watched Yuan Qing’s folded legs for a moment, then ducked back inside.
“Woof,” Mizuho called softly.
Yuan Qing looked at her.
“Woof woof,” Mizuho called twice more. Even with her sunglasses on, the corners of her mouth couldn’t hide her smile. “Don’t forget.”
Yuan Qing didn’t answer. He placed both hands on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead like he was heading into battle.
The bell rang, and all the bumper cars started at once.
Mizuho cranked her wheel all the way left. Her car carved an arc and slammed straight into Yuan Qing.
“Bam—”
Rubber against rubber, a dull thud. Yuan Qing’s car was knocked off course. He turned the wheel, and the car wobbled away. Mizuho reversed, adjusted her angle, and rammed him again.
Another “bam.”
“Come on, hit me back!” Mizuho shouted across the gap between two cars.
Yuan Qing turned the wheel. His car crept forward in a slow arc, circled around, and gently tapped the side of Mizuho’s car.
Not a crash. Just a tap.
Mizuho blinked, then laughed. “Haha, you’re so serious even with bumper cars.”
“Old habit.”
“This isn’t a fight. It’s play.”
Yuan Qing thought for a moment, then cranked the wheel to the left and floored it. The black bumper car traced a full circle in the arena and slammed into the rear of Mizuho’s car.
“Bam—”
Harder than the previous two. Mizuho lurched forward, her forehead nearly hitting the wheel.
“You do know how to have fun! Plenty of fighting spirit!”
She looked back. Yuan Qing had already reversed and backed away. The black bumper car waited in the corner of the arena.
Mizuho laughed as she spun her wheel and stomped on the gas. “So? Having fun?”
Yuan Qing held the wheel and didn’t answer immediately. Other bumper cars crossed between them. A yellow one, driven by a kid, wobbled into the railing with a dull thud.
“…It’s okay,” he said.
“‘Okay’ means good,” Mizuho said as her pink bumper car charged at him again. “Then smile! Hahahaha!”
“If you’re happy, you smile.”
Yuan Qing also spun his wheel. The rubber tires screeched against the floor as he abruptly changed direction, trying to circle around and ram Mizuho’s flank.
In short, their bumper car battle was fairly intense.
Time ran out.
Mizuho bought Yuan Qing a hot drink. He was sitting on a bench, catching his breath.
“What about this?” Mizuho handed the drink to Yuan Qing. White steam rose and warmed her palm.
Yuan Qing took it. “Thanks.”
He didn’t bother to notice what flavor it was.
“Did I wear you out?”
“It’s fine. I’m used to this level of activity.”
Mizuho sat beside him and let out a sigh. “Well, I’m a little worn out…”
“Then rest a bit.”
Yuan Qing blew on the surface of the steam, then took a careful sip. It was a latte. The latte art was pretty, and the taste was good—rich sweetness wrapped in a hint of bitterness, layering the flavor nicely.
He exhaled a puff of steam so thick it was opaque.
Through her sunglasses, Mizuho watched him. “Looks like I’m the one who should apologize. I’ve been making a mess of things for you.”
Yuan Qing turned to look at her. Her sunglasses reflected the light and his own figure. “No, this is fine. This is my first time at an amusement park. It feels new.”
“Hmm, really?” Mizuho smiled with a hint of pride. “I came here when I was little, but not all the memories were good.”
“And now you’ve brought me here again.”
“Yeah.”
Yuan Qing tilted his head back, looking at the brilliantly lit Ferris wheel in the distance.
“That one. Can we?” he asked.
“What?” Mizuho followed his gaze. “Whatever you want, of course we can.”
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