Roset and Hino decided to meet up again at a small community centre near the river, two days before the wedding ceremony was planned.
Not for a date. Not for a government form.
Just to talk.
The centre was mostly empty that day, just a caretaker sweeping leaves from the back hallway and a group of elderly women folding origami in the far room. Hino had brought thermoses of green tea and a bag of sweet red bean buns.
Roset smiled as they sat down on a bench in the quiet garden out back.
"You really came prepared," she said, taking the tea gratefully.
"I figured if we're about to become legal partners in family-building," he said with a straight face, "snacks were essential."
She laughed, nervous, but warm. "I wanted to talk about how this will actually work. Living together. Sharing space. Culture. Traditions."
He nodded, already expecting it. "Please. Tell me what's important to you."
She took a sip of tea, grounding herself. "I'd like to keep a few things. I don't want to feel like I've disappeared."
"Of course."
"Sunday roast. Even if it's simple. And Christmas, not just as a commercial holiday, but the feeling of it. I used to bake with my mum. She made it magical."
Hino smiled. "Then we'll make it magical, too."
"I don't expect you to adopt everything," she added quickly. "But I want our child to know where I came from. Even if they never see it."
He was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. Then said, "And I want them to know the old words. The ones my grandparents used. I want them to walk barefoot in a tatami room, to know how to bow at a shrine, even if they never believe in it."
Roset nodded. "A mix of everything."
"Exactly."
A breeze stirred the garden. Cherry branches rustled above them, still bare. But soon, they'd blossom.
"What about roles?" she asked. "If we're raising a child, how do we divide the work?"
"I can't carry the baby," he said, matter-of-factly. "So I'll do everything else. Whatever you need."
She giggled and smiled, then said, "I write. Short stories, mostly. I'd like to keep doing that. Stay home at first, maybe. But still… create."
"I'd like that," he said. "And I'll be working at the town hall once we move. Stable hours. No travel."
They sat in a soft silence, sipping tea, watching an old turtle move slowly along the edge of the garden pond.
After a long pause, she said, "You're kind."
"I just don't want to waste the chance to build something good," he replied.
She turned her head, really looked at him.
"Neither do I."
He didn't reach for her hand. She didn't reach for his. But when they stood to leave, they walked shoulder to shoulder. No longer strangers, not yet lovers, but something beginning.
Something mutual.
Something real.