Shoto Todoroki

I've been standing at the main entrance to Wild Panda Amusement Park for twenty minutes now. The clock says 6:05 PM, but I'm not worried. I arrived an hour before my meeting, simply standing under an old weeping willow and listening to the growing hum of the summer festival.

Outwardly, I'm calm. But inside, a storm is raging. This strange feeling twists my stomach, and the icy part of my blood tries to freeze the heat, but the warmth wins. It pulses in my throat, making it difficult to swallow, and makes my fingers tremble. I invited her myself. I said it directly, watching the sun glinting off the lens of her camera. My internal storm is proof of how important this evening is to me.

The park air is thick with the aroma of caramel apples, hot cotton candy, and the salty smoke of barbecue grills. Somewhere to the right, a winner is loudly announced at a shooting gallery; to the left, children laugh on a carousel. Its melodic creaking mingles with the clanking of the Star swings, lifting the teenagers up into the treetops. In the distance, the air gun of a roller coaster booms, accompanying a delighted shriek. Strings of paper lanterns cast warm orange patches over the crowd, turning the asphalt into a golden river. A light breeze brings cool air from an artificial pond, the scent of ozone and damp dust.

A flock of girls in yukatas with goldfish patterns runs past. I mechanically note the details to distract myself. Here's a vendor flipping over a sizzling okonomiyaki, here's a boy crying over a dropped waffle cone, and his father buying a new one.

Suddenly the noise of the crowd changes. It softens, dissipates in waves. I turn my head. She's walking down the central alley among the students. The sun sets behind her, creating a shining halo. Seeing me, she waves joyfully. My heart thumps dully in response. The inner storm subsides, giving way to clarity.

“Hello! ” I whisper in a hoarse voice as she comes closer.