Chapter 3: “Our First Grocery Run”

There were a lot of things Yui had lost in the fire.

Her favorite hoodie. Her lucky chopsticks. Her collection of novelty socks that no one but her cared about.

But the most tragic loss of all?

Her dignity.

Specifically, the moment she had to text her brand-new boyfriend, “Can we go shopping for underwear together?”

“You okay?” Haruki asked, trying to play it cool as they entered the department store.

“I’m emotionally fine,” Yui said flatly. “But also considering faking my own death to avoid this next part.”

He laughed. “We can split up if that’s easier?”

“Oh yeah. ‘Hey, cashier lady, I need some bras and emotional support, but my boyfriend’s in snacks.’ I’m thrilled by that idea.”

“Right. Solid point. I’ll… stand nearby and pretend to look at socks.”

The shopping trip started off normal enough.

They tackled groceries first, armed with a handwritten list and a firm determination to stick to a reasonable budget.

That resolve lasted five minutes.

“Haruki, we are not buying limited-edition strawberry Pocky in bulk.”

“But they’re seasonal! Once they’re gone, they’re gone forever.”

“You say that about every snack you like.”

“And I’m always right.”

Yui raised an eyebrow. “We have rice, vegetables, tofu, miso, and three types of instant noodles. We don’t need fancy candy.”

“But we deserve it. We survived a house fire. Well—you did, but I experienced secondhand stress, which is almost as bad.”

She blinked at him. “You are so dramatic.”

He grinned. “You knew what you were getting into.”

She huffed, but tossed one box of strawberry Pocky into the cart.

Haruki immediately fist-pumped.

Then came the harder part: clothes and essentials.

Yui needed everything—socks, underwear, pajamas, toothbrush, shampoo, and… well, a bra. Possibly two. And she was currently dying inside.

“Should I…” Haruki offered awkwardly, “look the other way? Or go back to snack purgatory?”

“You can stay,” she muttered. “Just… no eye contact. Ever. For the rest of our lives.”

“Understood.”

They stood in the lingerie section like two baby deer in traffic.

Yui zeroed in on the least embarrassing options—basic, neutral, absolutely zero lace.

Haruki examined a pair of neon green boxer briefs on a mannequin across the aisle like it held the meaning of life.

Neither of them spoke.

Eventually, Yui made her selections and marched to the register like she was storming a battlefield. Haruki trailed behind her like a guilt-ridden ghost.

When they were finally done, they both exhaled at the same time.

“That,” she said, “was the worst shared trauma of my life.”

“We should get matching trauma tattoos,” Haruki replied. “Like a little pair of cartoon briefs with angel wings.”

She smacked him with the receipt.

Their final stop was a small, open-air market near the station for fresh produce.

Yui scanned the stalls, soaking in the scent of oranges, sweet potatoes, and sun-warmed tomatoes. For the first time in days, she felt calm.

Haruki, meanwhile, was very intently choosing between two identical-looking daikon radishes.

“You’re aware they’re the same, right?” she said.

“Absolutely not. This one has strong main character energy.”

“You need help.”

“That’s why I have you.”

She smiled. A small one. The kind that crept up quietly and made her chest warm.

“Excuse me, young lovers,” a cheerful voice interrupted. “You're in the way of my cucumbers.”

They turned.

An elderly woman stood behind them, holding a basket full of eggplants and wearing a sunhat large enough to qualify as a parasol.

“Oh! Sorry!” Haruki said, stepping aside.

The woman looked between the two of them and beamed.

“You make such a cute married couple. It’s refreshing to see young people shopping together instead of staring at their phones.”

Yui short-circuited.

Haruki made a sound like a startled kettle.

The woman winked and shuffled off toward the cabbage stand like she hadn’t just detonated a verbal grenade.

“…Married couple,” Yui mumbled once the woman was out of earshot.

Haruki’s ears were a brilliant shade of red. “That was… bold.”

“I mean… we are living together.”

“And grocery shopping.”

“And doing laundry.”

“And buying… underwear.”

They stood in silence for a moment, staring at a bundle of spinach like it held all the answers.

Yui’s hand brushed against his.

Then—slowly, hesitantly—she slipped her fingers between his and squeezed.

Haruki looked at her, wide-eyed.

Yui didn’t meet his gaze. “I figured if people are going to assume anyway… we might as well live up to the hype.”

Haruki smiled. A real, glowing, heart-stupid smile that made her knees wobble.

“Then let’s make them very jealous.”

He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it like some kind of dorky romantic hero.

Yui turned bright red. “Put the radish in the cart before I combust.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

They walked home hand-in-hand, their shared shopping bags swinging between them, hearts too full to speak.

And somewhere deep inside her chest, Yui thought—

Maybe I didn’t lose everything after all.