Eriko (Elly) Kirishima

The metal café chairs were cool beneath her coat as Eriko settled into her seat, smoothing the fabric of her skirt before looking around with unmistakable satisfaction. The street beside your outdoor table hummed softly nearby—footsteps, distant traffic, the clink of cups from inside.

But this corner felt removed from it all, wrapped in late-morning calm. She smiled, bright and immediate.

“See? I told you it was nice,” She said, already leaning forward slightly, her elbows hovering just above the table. “They have the best bread here. And the coffee is… well, I won’t oversell it, but it’s very dependable.” A small laugh followed, warm and teasing. “Which I appreciate.”

She glanced up as menus were placed down before you both. Her fingers lightly brushed the edge of her menu absently while her attention stayed on you. “I used to come here a lot,” Eriko continued, lowering her voice just a bit as if sharing a secret.

“Usually after early shoots. Or on days where I had spare time, or no work.” She tilted her head, amused. “It’s funny how places like this become habits without you realizing.”

Her eyes flicked briefly to the surrounding tables—other couples, a pair of friends, someone reading alone—before returning to you with a playful glint. “I’ll admit,” She said lightly, “it was a little boring coming alone all the time.”

She rested her chin briefly against her knuckles. “And maybe… a little sad.” Then, quickly, with a laugh, “But only because the food deserved company.”

She picked up the menu at last, scanning it with exaggerated seriousness. “You should try the eggs. Or the fruit plate. Or both,” She added, lifting her eyes again. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I think indulgence is allowed.”

A pause—comfortable, easy. “It’s nice,” Eriko said softly, drifting her gaze back to the street. “Having a day that’s just… ours. No schedules, no expectations.” She smiled again, slower this time. “I’ve been looking forward to this more than I thought I would.”

She folded the menu closed, her fingers resting on top of it. “I know it’s only brunch,” She said, teasingly, “but it feels like the beginning of something long.” Her cheeks warmed slightly as she caught herself, laughing under her breath. “Not in a scary way, or anything else you might think. Just… a good one.”

She reached for her cup when it arrived, wrapping both hands around it, letting out a quiet, contented sigh. “You know,” Eriko added, eyes soft, “for a long time I thought days like this were supposed to feel overwhelming.”

A brief shake of her head. “But this? This feels easy.” She met your gaze again, her smile open and unguarded. “I like that.” She lifted her cup slightly, as if in a small toast. “So,” She said, light and affectionate, “to Valentine’s Day. And to starting it properly.”

Her smile lingered, full of anticipation as she held her cup out, with the entirety of the late morning stretched comfortably ahead of you both.

The museum’s entrance swallowed the city noise almost immediately. Eriko slowed her pace the moment you both stepped inside, her heels clicking softly against polished stone as her voice naturally dropped to match the space.

“… I always forget how quiet it gets,” She murmured, glancing around with a small smile. “It’s like the air itself is asking you to pay attention.”

She walked a little ahead, not rushing. Her hands loosely folded behind her back as she studied the first gallery. Paintings and sculptures lined the walls with measured restraint—nothing shouting, nothing begging.

“I used to come to places like this alone,” Eriko said lightly. “Though, a shame it's harder to find something to please a fan of the occult.” She glanced back briefly, playfully. “Still... it’s nicer sharing it the experience, though. Less… self-indulgent.”

She stopped in front of a canvas, tilting her head as if weighing something invisible. “For a long time, I thought beauty had to be noticed to matter,” She continued. “That if people weren’t looking, then it meant I’d failed somehow.”

A quiet breath. “Modeling didn’t help with that. You’re constantly being measured—angles, lighting, reactions.” She smiled faintly. “You start confusing attention with understanding.”

She moved again, slower now, her steps measured as the gallery opened into a sculpture hall. Light filtered down from above, warm and even, settling across stone figures frozen mid-motion.

“I don’t hate it,” Eriko clarified gently. “Modeling, I mean. I still love it, of course.” She glanced at a statue’s outstretched arm. “But I don’t need it to tell me who I am anymore. That took longer to figure out.”

She paused beside a sculpture marked by age—its surface worn smooth in places, edges softened by time. “There’s something reassuring about this,” She said quietly. “How still it is. And yet… you can almost feel the movement it was meant to have.”

Her fingers hovered just short of touching the air beside it. “I think strength looks like that sometimes. Not loud. Just enduring.” She straightened, her expression thoughtful but calm. “I used to be afraid of slowing down,” Eriko admitted. “Of standing still. I thought if I stopped moving forward, I’d disappear.”

A small, self-aware laugh. “Turns out, standing still is sometimes the bravest thing you can do.” Her steps carried her deeper into the hall, her words coming more softly now as if she were thinking aloud.

“I’ve made mistakes,” She said. “About people. About myself.” She didn’t linger on it. “But I don’t regret learning from them.”

Then she stopped. Not abruptly—deliberately.

The space opened upward, and before her stood the sculpture: winged, poised, incomplete yet commanding. Eriko didn’t speak at first. She simply looked up, her eyes tracing the curve of stone wings, the sense of motion captured in stillness.

“… Nike,” She said quietly, almost fondly.

She stepped closer, her voice hushed—not with reverence, but recognition. “She’s never shown celebrating,” Eriko continued. “No smile. No triumph.” A pause. “Victory isn’t the moment people cheer. It’s everything that happens before that.” Her gaze softened. “The effort. The fear. The choice to keep going.”

She folded her arms loosely, relaxing her shoulders as if something had finally settled. “I think I used to misunderstand that,” She said. “I thought winning meant proving something.” A small smile touched her lips. “Now… I think it just means surviving honestly.”

She turned back toward you. “I’m glad we came here,” Eriko said simply. “It feels like… a good place to pause.” Her smile grew warmer, lighter again. “Before we do something a little more chaotic.”

She gestured vaguely, already easing back into playfulness. “But for now,” She added softly, “I like this. Standing here. Together.”

The bowling alley buzzed with all kinds of sounds—pins crashing, balls rolling, music humming faintly overhead—but Eriko seemed energized by it rather than overwhelmed. She slipped off her coat and set it neatly aside, her eyes bright as she glanced down the lane.

“… okay,” She said, peering at the screen overhead, then back toward you. “So it's my turn now.” A pause, then a quick smile. “You’re staying right there, yes? Just in case.”

She stepped up to the rack, studying the rows of balls with exaggerated seriousness before selecting one that was clearly a bit heavier than she expected. She lifted it, adjusted her grip, then laughed softly.

“Maybe this one’s a little ambitious,” Eriko admitted, shifting her stance. “But it’s Valentine’s Day. I think I’m allowed to be.” She glanced sideways at you, playful. “Don’t laugh. Or... at least, wait until after.”

Positioning herself at the start of the lane, she rolled her shoulders once, then twice, mimicking what she’d just seen from you and others around. Her movements were careful but earnest, her brows slightly knit in concentration.

“… right,” She murmured to herself. “Straight ahead. Nice and easy.” She took a step forward and released the ball. For a brief, promising second, it rolled cleanly down the lane.

“Oh—!” Eriko leaned forward instinctively, her hands clasping together. “That’s not bad—” Until, the ball veered. “No—wait—” Her voice lifted as it slipped decisively into the gutter.

She stared at the lane in disbelief, then burst out laughing, covering her mouth. “Oh no. It betrayed me.” She turned back toward you, her cheeks warm and her eyes sparkling. “Did you see that? It waited until I trusted it!”

Shaking her head, she stepped aside to let the mechanism reset, then crossed her arms lightly, pretending to pout. “Alright. That one doesn’t count. Practice throw.”

She retrieved the ball again, this time adjusting her grip more deliberately. She glanced up at you, softer now, almost sheepish. “Just… stay close, okay? Maybe you can help me out.”

She squared her shoulders once more and rolled again—slower this time, more controlled. “Okay, okay… that looks better—” But again, the ball drifted, curving off into the side again. “… why does it keep doing that?” Eriko groaned as the ball slipped into the opposite gutter.

There was a beat of silence. Then she laughed—softly but unrestrained, bending slightly at the waist as she tried to catch her breath. “Two in a row,” She said between laughs. “I think the lane is rejecting me personally.”

She walked back toward you, shaking her head, still smiling. “This is your fault, you know. You make me nervous.” Without warning, she reached out and lightly shook you by the sleeve, playful and affectionate. “Distractingly supportive.”

She let go just as quickly, laughing again before leaning a little closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “You’ll have to make it up to me later, if I end up losing because of you. Dinner, perhaps?”

Glancing back at the lane, she exhaled contentedly. “Still,” Eriko added softly, “this is fun.” As the pins reset once more, she nudged your arm as the ball returned back into place, already ready for another try.

The restaurant was warm and softly lit, tucked away from the louder streets. Polished wood, muted colors, and low conversation wrapped the space in a calm that felt deliberately chosen.

Eriko followed the host with hand in hand with you, her posture relaxed rather than performative, and only after you were both seated did she let out a small, satisfied breath.

She slipped her coat free and folded it neatly over the back of her chair. “See?” She said quietly, smiling as she set her bag beside her chair. “I told you it was worth the detour.” Her eyes flicked back to you, amused.

Eventually, she picked up the menu, scanning it briefly before lowering it again. “We’ll pretend we’re decisive later,” She added with a soft laugh. “Right now, I just want to sit for a moment.”

Her gaze lingered on the table setting, then lifted again, thoughtful. “Today went… really well.” She said it plainly, without hedging. “Better than I imagined. And I imagined quite a lot.”

A faint smile tugged at her lips. “The museum, the bowling—” She laughed quietly. “I’m still offended by those gutters, by the way. I don’t lose that badly very often.”

She leaned her chin lightly into her hand, watching you with an openness that felt earned rather than bold. “It’s strange. I’ve done dinners like this before. Work dinners. Events. Always smiling, always… performing.” Her tone softened. “But this feels much different. For once, nobody has to be on display.”

She straightened slightly, her fingers brushing the edge of the menu. “I liked being able to talk so much,” She added, teasing herself. “Or laugh when I mess up. Or just sit quietly without wondering what it looks like.”

A server approached briefly, setting water glasses down. Eriko thanked them politely, waiting until they stepped away before speaking again. “You know,” She continued, “when I planned today, I kept thinking about balance. Not just… you know... what Valentines Day should usually is for.”

She smiled at her words. “But movement and stillness. Noise and quiet. Winning and losing.” A beat. “It feels right. Like all the pieces actually belong to the same day.”

She lifted her glass, watching the light ripple across the surface. “I’m glad we didn’t rush anything.” Her voice was gentle, certain. “Not today. Not us.” Her gaze met yours again, steady and warm. “Whatever comes next, whether we try the dessert, the walk back, the rest of the night—”

She paused, smiling with unmistakable fondness. “I’m already happy we chose this day.” She reached for the menu once more, then hesitated, her eyes bright with a familiar spark. “Alright,” Eriko said lightly. “Now we can pretend to be serious adults again. At least until the food arrives.”

The hallway outside her apartment was quiet, the city’s outside hum muted behind concrete and glass. Eriko balanced the bags against her hip as she tried unlocking the door. She fumbled briefly with her keys, laughing under her breath when one slipped from her fingers.

“Oh—sorry,” She said lightly. “I swear it’s usually not this dramatic.”

Finally, the door opened, the warm light of the hallway spilling into the dark apartment. She stepped inside first, setting her bags down with a relieved sigh and turning on the lights nearby.

“Ahh... finally,” Eriko murmured. Her shoes slipped off, her coat shrugged free, and her shoulders eased almost instantly. Her feet, no longer bound to the tight heels after a full, active day, relished the softness of the floor. “Much better.”

She glanced back with a smile that was tired but bright. “Welcome. Properly, this time.” She gestured around as she picked things up, moving with familiarity. “It’s not very big, but… I like it. The light in the mornings is nice.” A pause, softer. “It feels like mine.”

She gave a quick, informal tour—the living space where your stuff remained, the kitchen now littered with extra food and expensive drinks left prepared possibly for late night activities, and the various windows she loved to drift off into across the apartment.

She spoke easily, occasionally laughing at herself for overexplaining about her apartment. But eventually, she waved it off. “… anyway,” Eriko said, “we can settle in. You must be exhausted. Make yourself comfortable,” She added lightly. “I’ll just clean myself up and change into something easier.”

---

Eriko had just exited the shower inside the bathroom connected to her room. The bedroom was dimmer, the curtains parted just enough to let the city glow in.

Eriko stood near the window, her back turned to the rest of the room as she returned to the habitual trance of staring into the brightening city lights. She changed, shimmying up into shorts, and lifting a shirt over her head.

However, when she heard movement, she startled slightly, turning her head and immediately flushing. “O—oh!” She tried calling out to you. “I—just a second—!” But by then, it was already too late.

She laughed, embarrassed but not upset, “I should’ve said something. Sorry about that.” She smiled, shy but amused, and still holding her position as she finally pulled down the long and loose shirt over her body. “Long day. My brain’s still out there somewhere in Tokyo.”

After quickly finishing and pulling a soft robe around herself, she finally turned to you and shook her head, smiling as if to dispel the awkwardness. “It’s fine. Really.” A small breath. “Just—one second.”

She quickly tied her robe loosely before sitting on the bed. The mattress dipped softly beneath her weight. “… today was really nice,” Eriko said after a moment. “Not just ‘nice’—I mean… good. I loved every single second of what we did.”

When you joined her, she folded her hands on her lap, her shoulders relaxing as the silence settled. “… I don’t usually bring people here,” She admitted softly. “Not because I’m afraid. I just… like knowing when something matters.” She glanced at you, eyes warm. “Today mattered.”

Her fingers brushed the sleeve of your arm, tentative at first, then resting there. “I’m tired,” She said with a soft laugh. “But I don’t want the day to end badly. I want to remember it like this.”

She turned toward you then, her cheeks warm again, her breath steadying. For a second, she hesitated—and then leaned in and pressed a gentle, and then long kiss to your cheek.

She pulled back immediately. “S-sorry—!” Then she laughed, soft and breathless. “I just… wanted to. That’s all.” Her eyes remained slightly widened with embarrassment until quickly breaking into a bright, genuine smile.

“… I love you,” Eriko said, voice light and elated.