Modern Japanese AU, Zanka x Fem!Reader
Summer had finally arrived. Classes and work were officially behind you, and you couldn't wait to enjoy the vacations...the shopping, the food, the friends, and everything waiting for you in your hometown. You couldn't wait a second longer.
The train finally came to a halt and opened its doors in front of the station. In the distance, you could see your parents waving and running to greet you. Your father picked up your suitcases while your mother repeated her usual mantra: “Look at you, you’ve lost so much weight!” You kept telling her that life in the city was different and that you always went to the doctor.
After what felt like an eternal trip down memory lane, you finally settled into your old room. Photos with your school friends were still hanging in the same spot; your favorite plushies and mangas were still on the worn-out white shelf you had found at a bazaar...the one you regretted not being able to take to your new apartment. You opened the window, and a fresh breeze filled your lungs. In the distance, you could see the small beach, and you could already imagine yourself there, enjoying the sun and the sand.
You changed clothes and ran downstairs. In the kitchen, your parents were still talking about how thin you were and how they were definitely going to make you gain a few kilos this days. You rolled your eyes and opened the door.
“I’m going to the store for a bit!” you shouted without waiting for an answer, closing the door behind you. The neighbor’s cat was still as fat and grumpy as ever; it hissed at you and scurried away as you passed. The store wasn't far, and honestly, they sold the best ice cream in town.
You gave a greeting as you walked in and hurried to the freezer, looking for your favorite ice cream. Fortunately, you found it at the bottom of the bin. You grabbed a few other things and headed to the counter. A song played loudly on the radio, forcing you to try and remember its name. While you were trying to recall the lyrics and hum along, a pair of eyes caught your attention.
“I see you’ve come back home,” he said. The way you looked at him made him laugh. His laugh sounded as pleasant as always. “(y/n), you haven't changed a bit. Maybe your hair is just a little longer.”
“Zanka? Do you work here?” was all you managed to stammer while smoothing your hair.
“The shop belongs to my grandfather, did you forget?” he said as he scanned your items. “Besides, I’m just covering for him today. He had to go to the doctor.”
“Is he sick?” Your question was genuine. Zanka’s grandfather had always been in the shop every time you went to buy something; he used to ask about your grades and sometimes gave you sweets just for being his grandson’s friend.
“No, just a check-up. The usual. That’ll be 1800 yen.” He held out his hand for the money. By the time you realized it, all your purchases were already in a white plastic bag, and perhaps the ice cream was starting to melt.
You paid clumsily, your hands starting to sweat thanks to the intense gaze the boy was giving you.
“How are classes? Are you studying literature or not?” he continued talking while taking the payment and giving you your change.
“Yes. Did you think I’d study anything else?”
“Not at all. It suits you perfectly.”
“What about medicine?” you asked, but immediately wished you hadn't. His tone shifted, and something in his face darkened. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away.
“It’s fine,” he eventually said.
After swearing you would visit him again the next day, you left the store as more customers arrived. Before getting home, you took out the ice cream and started eating it, remembering every moment you had spent with him back in school. He looked more attractive now. His eyes were perhaps even bluer, if that was possible. But his hair was definitely longer, and the way he styled it reminded you of his grandfather. However, what caught your attention the most, besides his smile, were his earrings. They reminded you of Omamori charms.
The sun was finally setting, and the sea breeze reached you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You hurried your pace and entered the house feeling a bit heavy-hearted, but the smell of your mother’s cooking filled the place and made you run to the dining room.
After chatting about university and classes with your parents and insisting you weren't that thin, you finally mentioned Zanka.
“I ran into Mr. Nijiku’s grandson,” you said, swallowing a large mouthful of noodles.
“Ah yes, Zanka,” your mother said. “I think he came back a month ago. Wasn’t he studying medicine in Tokyo?” She looked at your father, who was focused on smoking a cigarette.
“Yes, yes,” he replied. “But I don't think it's going very well for him, besides his grandfather is kinda sick"
The two of them kept talking about him, but you had stopped listening moments ago. You could only replay in your head the way he smiled at you. Your heart skipped a beat and you couldn't help but smile; perhaps the real reason you had come home for the vacations was to see him.
The next day you slept late. Fortunately, the street where your parents lived was one of those deserted roads that motorists avoided, so the outside noise was minimal. Or so you thought until a sharp thud woke you up. Still groggy, you looked for the source of the sound when you saw a small pebble hit your window.
“Maybe it’s the cat,” you muttered, lying back down, but the sound became more frequent. Cursing the cat and the neighbor, you got up quickly and threw open the window. You leaned out to look for the animal, but there was nothing.
“Hey,” a voice said from the sidewalk. You didn't even need to look; you knew exactly whose voice that was. “Were you asleep?” He sounded playful. You let out a sigh and looked down at him.
“Mind telling me why you're throwing rocks at my window, Nijiku?”
“You didn't come to the shop this morning, so I brought you this.” He tossed a package up to your hands, and you managed to catch it in mid-air. It was your favorite ice cream.
“It was the last one left.” Another smile formed on his face, and you could feel your cheeks heating up.
“Thanks,” you murmured. He was about to leave when the sea breeze swept around you again. “Nijiku!” you shouted, throwing back one of the pebbles he had tossed first. But unlike him, your aim was terrible. Still, he turned back toward you. “Let’s go to the beach.”
After an hour, you finally arrived at the beach...not before hearing your mom’s lecture about using plenty of sunscreen, avoiding crowds, and making sure to bring something to eat. In the end, the two of you found yourselves walking along the shore.
“Have you heard anything from the others?” you asked. You didn't know what else to say; honestly, you were starting to second-guess inviting him to the beach, so your only topic of conversation was your old school.
“Not really. My grandfather told me that after graduation, many people left this place...just like we did,” he answered.
“How is your grandfather? My dad said he was sick.” His expression changed again, and you regretted mentioning it, but there was no going back.
“He has a heart condition.” Zanka looked out toward the sea. The sound of the waves drowned out many of his words, so you only managed to nod. Then he looked back at you, smiling. “Aren’t you hungry?” You nodded slowly. He led you to a shaded spot, and after setting up the makeshift picnic, you settled in to eat. Your mother had packed the bento in an ostentatious way; clearly, she wanted you to put on weight this vacations.
“Hey, why those earrings? Are you in your rebel phase? Do you have tattoos too?” You had finally found something to talk about, and deep down, you hoped those earrings didn't have some sentimental meaning related to his grandfather.
“You like them? I got them during my first week of college” His chest swelled with pride as he showed them off.
“First week? You must be crazy.”
“A friend of mine helped me. He does have tattoos.” He went on to talk about his friend...a tall, blonde foreign guy whose worst habit was smoking like his life depended on it.
You spent the afternoon talking about your new friends, how rushed life was in Tokyo, and how complicated living alone in Osaka had been for you. You talked about how fun your classes were, and he couldn't help but brag about being top of his class, nothing out of the ordinary for him.
Before sunset, you both headed back home. You didn't want the day to end; you wanted to keep talking to him about anything and everything. You remembered how foolishly in love you had been with him back in school, but since you were close friends, you never dared to confess. You both walked slowly; deep down, you hoped he wanted to spend more time with you just as much as you did, but these were feelings you didn't quite understand and were too afraid to ask about.
Finally, you reached your house. He handed you the backpack where you’d kept your things, and for a second, you both stood there in silence. You were beyond nervous. It hadn't been a date...just two childhood friends hanging out...so why were you hoping he’d kiss you or tell you how much fun he’d had? God, you wished he would.
“See you tomorrow?” you asked shyly. “Let’s go eat Okonomiyaki at our usual spot.” Your heart was racing, your hands were sweaty, and you couldn't stop gripping the backpack.
“Sure,” he finally replied. A wave of relief and excitement washed over you. “We’ll go wherever you want.” His hair and earrings swayed in the breeze, making him look so handsome...like one of those guys in the shojo mangas you adored and dreamed about so often. His smile shone brighter than the streetlamp; it was like being back in your school days. Zanka, waiting outside your house to walk you to school regardless of rain or snow; on the way back, stopping at his grandfather’s shop to eat ice cream or buns while searching for the stickers inside the packaging; then doing homework at your place, well, he would do the homework while you just copied whatever he did. That had been your childhood and adolescence, and now, in your College days, you realized how much you missed it. You had missed him so much that you’d forgotten how it felt to be near him.
You lay on your bed staring at the ceiling, motionless for a few seconds. Then, you hugged your pillow and screamed into it, kicking your legs like crazy. You felt like a schoolgirl with her first love. But one thing was true: Zanka was your first love, and no other guy you had dated had ever made you feel as excited as he did. You jumped out of bed and started rummaging through your clothes to decide what to wear tomorrow, humming the same song that had played on the shop’s radio the day before. Your mom yelled from the kitchen that it was time for dinner, but you didn't want to eat. You had no appetite at all; you just wanted to sleep so tomorrow would come sooner and you could see Zanka again.
Now you were at the table of the small family restaurant that you and your friends used to visit every Thursday to spend the little pocket money your parents gave you. Zanka sat across from you, reading the menu intently; his hair fell over his face, slightly veiling his eyes, and you noticed how his outfit perfectly matched his earrings, making you smile a little. At the table in front of you, a pair of girls wouldn't stop staring at him, you caught them out of the corner of your eye. They whispered and giggled whenever they looked at him, then looked you up and down, judging you, perhaps cursing you for being at the same table as him.
"Do you know what you're going to order yet?" Your voice sounded higher than usual, nerves, maybe... but inside you couldn't stop insulting yourself: 'Stupid, stupid, stupid.' You rested your elbows on the table and placed your chin in your hands, watching him. You didn't want to make it look like a date, but if those other girls thought it was one, you felt a bit better.
"Sure," he replied. "Let me order for you."
"What a gentleman," you joked, and he let out a sarcastic laugh.
The food didn't take long to arrive. Zanka talked about a subject that had made his life miserable last semester while you pretended to understand all the concepts he used. You noticed that the more he talked about the things he loved, the more his eyes lit up. It had always been that way. When you were kids, Zanka was in the Kendo club and you were in the poetry club. Every time Zanka told you about how he had defeated some of his teammates, his eyes lit up the same way. Sometimes he would beg you to read a poem for him, and you could see his eyes brighten again when you had managed to memorize it and recited it just for him.
"Studying medicine sounds sooo hard," you commented. He couldn't deny it, but it was what he truly wanted to do in life. "I didn't understand half of what you told me, but..." you pointed out before he could protest, "if you keep talking to me like that, maybe I can refute my mother’s claim that I’m not that thin."
"But you are thinner," he blurted out. "I remember you used to have very pretty cheeks."
You didn't speak. Those cheeks began to turn pink, and the heat in the room seemed to rise.
"Are you saying my cheeks aren't pretty anymore?" He blushed in return, began to slur his words, and stood up with the excuse of going to the bathroom, which you were grateful for. You took a long sip of cold water and begged your heart to stop beating so fast.
You dragged Zanka through the various shops in the area. At first, he refused, but as you walked, his expression changed, and now he was the one leading you through places you hadn't visited yet.
You stopped at a small antique shop. The shop had been open for as long as you could remember. Sometimes you would watch it from afar, dreaming of the things that must be inside; you had never entered, even though Zanka always urged you to, but for you, imagination was better. You could imagine that inside there was a chest with so many silk dresses that an ancient princess might have worn. Or perhaps a locket containing the photos of some tragic pair of lovers. Whenever you dreamed of those things, Zanka would just roll his eyes and shake his head; sometimes he’d give you a light tap on the head to force you back to earth, or sometimes he’d let you continue with your stories and ask you to keep going with them the next day. This time you had finally decided to go in, and what you found inside was better than any story you could have imagined.
The shop was run by an elderly couple; the lady was small and thin, and the man was a bit taller than her, his face covered by huge glasses and a thick mustache. The place was larger than it looked from the outside. Light streamed through the large windows and hit various pieces of furniture filled with different colored stones, some larger than others, but all equally beautiful. You walked slowly through each aisle, observing and imagining a different story for each object. Zanka followed closely, smiling every time you let out a comment of admiration: "Look how pretty this one is," or "Wow, how big," and "Wow, it must be very old."
Finally, you stopped in front of a large display case with various jewels, from rings to pocket watches and compasses. You couldn't wait to get home and look some of them up online; maybe you would write a story about one of them. You looked at each one with curiosity until finally your eyes stopped on that beautiful hand mirror with golden details. On the back, it had a bouquet of red roses painted on it; although the paint looked worn, the mirror still reflected perfectly. You wanted to take it, but you weren't a vain girl, and to tell the truth, you avoided looking at yourself in mirrors or any reflective surface. Buying a mirror really felt like a waste of money.
"It's very pretty," Zanka said behind you.
"Yes," you managed to say.
"Aren't you going to buy it?"
"Maybe later, I don't have much money on me right now." You smiled and put the mirror back in its place.
You thanked the kind elderly couple and left the place quickly, with Zanka hot on your heels. The fact that you couldn't even buy a mirror awakened something deep inside you that you had kept hidden.
You didn't feel pretty. It had always been that way since you were a child. Many of your mother's friends always said you were so beautiful, but that’s just what older ladies always said...it wasn't the same as hearing it from a boy your age.
The whole way home you were silent. Zanka noticed, and although he tried to strike up a conversation, it didn't help that your only responses were "yes," "no," or "I don't know." Something inside him wanted to figure out what had happened to you, but he couldn't do it if you wouldn't let him.
Before you reached your house, Zanka stopped at his grandfather's shop and rushed inside to look for something. You waited for him outside, and when he came out, he handed you a small gift bag.
"What is this?" you asked, taking the bag slowly.
"It's a book," he replied as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "I remembered how much you liked it when we were kids."
You opened the bag and took out the book, admiring it. It was a collection of Japanese folktales that you loved to read whenever you went to Zanka's house. In reality, the book belonged to his older sister, but now that she was married, she didn't even remember it.
"I want you to have it and remember me by it." You looked at him, surprised.
"What are you saying?" Something inside told you that you didn't want to hear what he was about to say.
"I have to go back to Tokyo. Tomorrow."
Maybeeee this will be a three part story, don't know
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