Isn’t fate weird?

Just a year ago, I was celebrating my birthday by drinking myself stupid with Junpei in some sketchy izakaya, drowning in cheap beer and self-pity.

I remember staring at the ceiling of my tiny apartment, feeling like absolute garbage — both physically from the booze and mentally because I was lying to everyone around me. I was Ryuko then, hiding, afraid Keiko might catch on, feeling like a coward every time I saw her face.

And now?

Now I was here… walking hand-in-hand with that same woman on my birthday, going on a real date like an actual person. Who would’ve guessed.

As we left the station, Keiko led the way. She had this small smile on her face, the kind that made my heart do a little backflip.

The last time she grabbed my hand like this was… oh.

Oh no.

Flashback.

Ferris wheel.

That night.

"Who are you, Ryuko?"

I literally felt my stomach drop.

Unconsciously, I pulled my hand away like I’d touched a hot stove.

Keiko blinked in surprise, turning back. “What’s wrong?”

I panicked. Quick, Ryusei, think.

I scratched my arm. “Ahh… itchy! Yep, really itchy right here, haha…”

I laughed like an idiot, hoping she’d buy it.

She raised a brow but didn’t push. Just shrugged and grabbed my hand again. “Come on.”

Guess I passed the test.

After a few minutes of walking through backstreets I barely recognized, we stopped in front of this old, dimly lit building. The red paper lantern swayed in the breeze, and the sound of clinking dishes came from inside.

There it was: an izakaya.

For those not in the know — it’s basically a Japanese pub where salarymen gather to drink away their bad life choices. Usually small, cozy, and run by grumpy old men who act like they hate you but secretly love you.

I stared at it.

“An izakaya? You sure? You don’t even drink,” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Keiko just smirked. “It’s different from the usual ones. Come on.”

Different how?

Was the beer purple? Did they serve ghost beer?

But whatever — it was my birthday, and honestly, if she took me to a fish market dumpster, I’d probably still follow her.

Inside, it looked… exactly like every old izakaya ever.

Tiny counter, faded posters, smell of oil and soy sauce hanging thick in the air. And behind the bar stood a grumpy-looking old man with a face like a pickled plum.

“Hi, master,” Keiko greeted him.

The old guy’s face lit up like a grumpy cat seeing its favorite human. “Oh, Keiko. Been a while, girl. So you still with that no-good bastard you told me about?”

Wait. Huh?

Was that… me?

“Master, this is my husband I mentioned,” Keiko said, patting my shoulder.

Waitwaitwait. Hold up. Husband?!

Since when were we tossing around husband titles so casually?!

I nearly choked on my own spit.

The old man squinted at me. “Ahh, so you’re the good-for-nothing, huh?”

Well, this was going well.

Keiko elbowed me gently, a silent play along signal.

I cleared my throat. “Y-yeah… I’m her husband.”

“Master, don’t bully him,” Keiko chuckled.

The old man smirked and waved us toward the counter.

“Got a menu?” I asked, feeling awkward.

“Only one thing on it. Special ramen,” he barked.

Seriously? What kind of place was this? “That’s it? You should broaden your menu, old man — no wonder no one’s here.”

His eyes narrowed.

As he turned and started walking toward the kitchen, the old man grumbled over his shoulder, “Young man, be grateful. Your wife reserved this whole place just for you. That’s why no one else is here.”

…Wait what.

I blinked at Keiko. “You reserved this place?”

She shrugged, like it was no big deal.

“This place is usually packed. Master doesn’t take reservations for anyone. But for me… he did.”

“…And what if I wanted to go somewhere else?”

“Then I would’ve dropped the reservation,” she said calmly, sipping her water.

I stared at her. “Just how close are you with this guy?”

Keiko smiled, this soft kind of nostalgic smile I didn’t see often. “He helped me out back then. When Rin was little. When we had nothing. Gave me free food, let me take leftovers home. This was my first job when I started helping with the bills.”

And suddenly it hit me.

I remembered those nights. Keiko coming home with warm ramen, splitting it three ways so we could all eat.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“Here’s your ramen,” the old man announced, slamming down two bowls.

The smell punched me in the face in the best way. Thick pork broth, perfectly soft eggs, crispy seaweed — simple, classic, and perfect.

“Let’s eat,” we said together.

I took one sip of the soup and my soul left my body.

It was that good.

Keiko grinned at my expression. “Told you.”

I finished my bowl so fast I think I achieved a new record.

The old man smirked. “Well?”

“…It’s the best damn ramen I’ve had.”

Keiko nodded, satisfied. “Still the best in Japan for me.”

The old man let out a gruff laugh. “Silly girl, you’ve only ever been in Tokyo.”

Keiko chuckled along, raising a brow. “Hey, I’ve been to Osaka too, you know!”

The old man scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “Hah! That doesn’t make any difference.”

They both burst out laughing together, like old friends picking up an inside joke from years ago. It was one of those moments where you could tell there was real history between them — the kind of banter you only have with someone who's seen you at your worst and still stuck around.

Afterward, Keiko offered to help clean up, but he refused.

I offered then, thinking he’d reject me too.

But he didn’t.

So here I was, on my birthday, washing dishes for free.

Happy birthday to me.

From the kitchen, I could hear them chatting. It sounded serious, though I couldn’t make out the words.

When I finished, I stepped out.

“Done, old—”

Keiko cut me a glare.

“Master.”

I cleared my throat. “Old— uh, Master. Done.”

He glared. I bowed. “Sorry.”

Keiko motioned for me to sit beside her.

Then she dropped a bomb.

“Ryusei… Master’s retiring next year.”

“Oh… okay.”

“And… he wants me to take over this place.”

My brain short-circuited.

“W-what?!”

She nodded with a small smile. “I told him about you that you had potential, and he actually agreed with me.”

I turned to the old man. He wasn’t smiling.

I gulped. “Me?! How?!”

“You’ll learn. From me,” the old man grunted. “But remember — Keiko’s still the owner of this place. Don’t get cocky, kid.”

Keiko gave my back a reassuring pat. “You’ll think about it, won’t you?” she smiled. “And don’t worry, I’ll be with you. We’ll build our own restaurant together.”

It had always been my dream to have our own restaurant someday, so honestly… it wasn’t a bad idea at all. I choked a little on my drink, caught off guard by how real it sounded coming from her. “Y-yeah,” I managed, my voice a little shaky. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

I mean… it was insane. Completely unexpected. But somehow, it didn’t sound bad at all. I just needed a little time to let it sink in and process it properly in my head.

After finishing up, we bowed politely and thanked the old man, then stepped out together to continue our night.