The Day We Kissed a Second Time at the Hillside Shrine

Airnote  ·  Lysa  ·  Aug 23, 2026

Up the stone steps, through the torii, and back onto the same tree-root seat as before.
High enough that the town, the harbor, and the roof of Tide and Gears all fit into one view.
The same place where, two months ago, we sat, drew an Airpaint, ate lunch, cried, and laughed.

On this final week's "shrine day," Yu and I sit side by side on the same seat.
Fingers laced together, we let the wind ease the sweat off us for a while.
"It's nostalgic, being here," Yu says.
I can feel the time that has settled between who we were two months ago and who we are now,
quietly layered over the view of the town.

"I want to kiss you," Yu says, looking straight into my eyes.
In that gaze, filtered through the leaves, the town and the sky and I are all reflected at once.
"This is the second time we've kissed here," I murmur, and cup a hand to Yu's cheek, leaning in slowly.

Our lips touch.
At first, barely — the hardness of the tree root, the cool wind off the hill, and Yu's warmth, all mixing at once.
We don't pull away right away. We shift the angle slightly and press together again, gently.
Not too much pressure. Soft, and long.

The first time we kissed here, two months ago, it carried the feeling of this is where it begins.
Today's kiss has we made it this far and I'm still here dissolved into one.
A quiet afternoon where the shrine's god watched Yu and Lysa kiss, for the second time.