The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname



Kyouka’s eyes were shining beside Atsushi as they stared at all the good things offered in the stall at the festival—crepes, chazuke, warm buns with different spices and fillings. Colorful lights had been strung over stalls and the stars twinkled down on festive music and chattering crowds. It was all in all a delight.

Atsushi grimaced at his poor purse. An expensive delight.

But as Kyouka gasped softly, biting down on soft crepe and sweet warm fillings, the stars in her eyes as bright as the ones in the sky, he thought to himself that it was worth it.

The Price of Vegetables


“I’m not eating that,” Saruhiko said flatly without bothering to look up from typing.

Yata scowled. “It’s just dip!”

Saruhiko shot him an even flatter look. He pushed up his glasses with the most condescending sigh. “I know what’s in guacamole.”

Avocadoes. Vegetables.

Fate seemed determined to saddle Yata with a partner that wouldn’t know how to take care of himself if someone explicitly taught him how. “Fine,” he snapped. “Sleep by yourself tonight.”

Saruhiko looked startled, then narrowed his eyes, deciding how much Yata meant it.

Yata stared back.

Saruhiko weighed vegetables against chastity and clicked his tongue. “Fine.”

Eat Up


“What are you making?” Saruhiko suddenly asked, sounding highly alarmed and less than enthused.

“Shut up. You’ll like it.” Yata shot him a grin over his shoulder.

Saruhiko only looked more alarmed. Possibly because of Yata looking ever so slightly sniffly (he wasn’t crying, it was onions, okay?), possibly because the smell wasn’t the kind that was easy to mistake.

“I don’t like onions.” Saruhiko frowned as he pushed up his glasses and even ignored the pinging of his computer.

Yata waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’ll survive one meal a week with vegetables.”

And like it too.