Tamago thought the date was going really well.

They had stopped by every clothing department store and Michi had ogled and tried on every blouse and skirt that caught her attention. They ate some confections and bought some milk tea— they even had some fried chicken from the new stall that just opened up opposite the movie theatre.

Tamago tried to avoid the anime stores so he wouldn’t have to show Michi just how nerdy he was, but his eyes strayed to the brightly lit windows and happy electronic music every time they passed by. He wasn’t going to be tempted by 2D girls while he finally had the chance to date a 3D one of his dreams.

Better than his dreams, Michi was real and she talked a lot and laughed loudly but happily and Tamago loved making her smile whether it be something he did or said or dropped.

He thought she was the best thing in any room he walked into and he was hoping she felt the same.

When they passed by the anime stores, Michi would push them into another direction and avoid looking at them at all costs, and Tamago could feel that animosity and didn’t want to tamper with it. That was something to unpackage later, when they got to know each other a little bit more. But for now, Tamago wanted to remember their first date as beautifully and as happily as he could.

Hopefully Michi was doing the same.

She looked happy enough. Walking slightly ahead of him the entire time and looking back at him with a flip of her dark hair and a smirk every now and then. Every time they got close enough for him to hold her hand, she would bound away on some new energy spike and excitedly talk about whatever caught her attention in the shop windows or at the stalls littering the aisles. Tamago thought it cute and was relieved when she would bounce away, not thinking he had enough confidence to actually commit and grasp her hand.

How would he hold it anyways? Would he lace his fingers through hers? And if he did, whose thumb was on top? What if he just cupped it? It’d probably get sweaty right? That would be uncomfortable and maybe she’d let go first and then try to wipe their combined sweat off on her skirt and he wouldn’t be able to offer her his handkerchief because she would be trying to be inconspicuous but he knew, he knew just how clammy his palms could get and his fingers were bony and awkward and she wouldn’t enjoy it at all—

Michi would bump into him every now and then to get his attention and smile at his panic stricken face trying to come up with a joke to keep her entertained.

Tamago wanted to punch himself in the face for being so awkward.

They ended up at the arcade, and wanting to flex his gamer skills, he strutted over to a claw machine and flashed a 100 yen coin to Michi.

She enthusiastically golf clapped with her mouth in a little “o” shape, bobbing her head up and down in agreement.

Tamago had read enough manga to know that getting it on the first try would be suave, but any more attempts than that could also show how persistent he was.

There was a mountain of stuffed Hello Kitty plushies for him to choose from, and he dangled the metallic claw over the one trapped in the center, white paw reaching up to be saved from the embrace of her sister plushies.

Target locked and acquired.

He could see Michi’s reflection in the glass and her constant gaze on the prize. His face flushed and he jiggled the controller a little to the left, a little to the right, a smidge up and then another jostle to the left and DING the timer ran out and the claw fell with the unfortunate speed of an anchor making landfall in a harrowing storm.

It bounced off his target and slithered down a few plushies to expertly clamp at nothing.

The claw came back up swinging and deposited empty air to the claw machine’s door.

Tamago bumped his head against the glass and saw Michi trying to cover up her giggle in the reflection. With a rushed determination he pulled out another coin and deposited it in, roughly jostling the stick to where he thought it would land a catch and slapping the drop down button with confidence.

Another bounce.

Another loss.

Michi had moved to his side and motioned that she was okay, she was fine with leaving without the Hello Kitty prize but Tamago felt the need to prove himself in some way for some reason.

His honor had somehow attached itself to this cat plushie behind this glass chamber and he sure as hell was going to get it.

Several attempts later and with a dwindling supply of coins, Tamago had to leave his honor behind and find Michi, who had wandered off and was sitting at a booth next to the pinball machines and DDR hypeboys, watching them with a small smile of interest that widened to a heartfelt one when Tamago found her.

Tamago expressed his sorries but Michi brushed it off and got up, smiling and leading him away from the tempting arcade machines and back into the hustle and bustle of the mall.

They oohed and ahhed at new fragrances and stopped to take photos by a BT21 booth in the middle of the mall. They walked what seemed like the entire day and finally settled on a family restaurant to have dinner at, which Tamago’s friend had actually recommended but that Tamago had maneuvered them into trying.

The restaurant’s ambiance was mellow, slow and calming after their extended day exploring the mall and getting to know each other a little bit more. The lights were dim but pooled in the centers of each table and the soft clatter of chopsticks and spoons on bowls and plates mingling with the warm chatter of the dinner crowd made Tamago relax.

They were seated quickly and given the menu, recommendation of the house special was delivered and they were given complimentary tea for being first-time customers.

Michi opened the menu and began talking about all the interesting things she saw on it and all the things she’d like to try and maybe they’d have to get different things so they could try it or just come back another time.

But Tamago was paying more attention to the menu than to Michi because his one weakness, his tragic flaw, the thing he hated the most, was the exemplary ingredient in almost all the dishes.

Every single dish contained some sort of egg.

Tamago hated egg. He was by no means allergic to the Japanese staple, but he hated the texture and the color. Runny yolks on a bit of toast? Yuck. Scrambled eggs lightly fluffed and steaming? Gross. Boiled eggs with a soft, gooey center? End him please.

Eggs were just weird to him and he couldn’t stomach them on the best of occasions.

But Michi...looked so happy and excited to be here.

She was currently recounting a story of how she had had ramen in the city with the most delicious egg noodles and soft boiled egg she had ever had and Tamago decided to swallow the rest of his pride with whatever egg dish he would get. If it made Michi happy, he was going to do it.

When the server returned, he ordered omurice and she a steamed egg soup.

She was literally bouncing with joy. Tamago was gray in the face and readying his body for a battle.

Michi kept up a stream of conversation with the occasional forced smile or choked affirmation from Tamago until their dishes arrived, piping hot from the kitchen.

They both said their “Itadakimasu” and Michi dug her spoon into the soft, jelly-like exterior of her bowl. Her spoon entered and a cloud of steam erupted, fragrant and delicious and she scooped up the fluffy egg and some green onions into her mouth. Her eyes closed in bliss.

Tamago watched with abject horror but pretended to be enjoying how much she was enjoying this. He looked down at his omurice and gulped. It was a heaping dish, a teardrop shaped omelette rolled onto a chunk of garlic rice garnished with a clean Sriracha wave. It was beautiful. But all Tamago could feel was the milk tea churning in his stomach and revolting against the idea of him even breaking open the omelette with his chopsticks.

Michi continued to chirp about how delicious her meal was while Tamago hunkered down and swallowed as much bile as he could. He ran his chopsticks down the middle of his omelette, as Michi recounted her recent fascination with songbirds, and watched with growing distaste as his food opened like a flower and spilled its oozing contents across the rice and onto the plate. To the standard restaurant goer, this was a natural experience watching their omelette open so gracefully and perfectly atop an aromatic plate of gently steaming rice. Not to Tamago though. He shoveled great heaps of the dish into his mouth as fast as he could without breathing and shot back his tea even though it scalded his throat and made his eyes water.

Michi watched this all happen in the blink of an eye, her spoon of wobbly egg halfway to her open mouth. Tamago continued to inhale his food and Michi giggled at his many expressions.

She tucked her long hair back into a ponytail and rolled her neck. Tamago was currently breathing through his mouth and chewed in between every sticky breath. Michi blew on the top of her food and then shoveled the rest of it into her mouth as fast as Tamago, but with far more joy and happiness.

The other customers in the restaurant watched them in bemused silence and resumed eating when Tamago and Michi both dropped their utensils on empty plates.

They finished in record time. Tamago looked like he was ready to cry and Michi looked like she was about to pass out.

They somehow managed to get and pay for their check and stumble out into the brisk night air with some of their wits and all of their shopping bags about them.

Michi giggled at Tamago’s reaction and Tamago poked fun at how she wolfed down her food in a similar manner. After much prodding, Tamago finally admitted his aversion to eggs and Michi howled with laughter despite the tops of Tamago’s ears burning red.

To make up for teasing him, Michi grabbed Tamago’s hand and laced her fingers through his and smiled up at him, bumping lightly against his shoulder.

They walked back home like that, occasionally bumping into each other and apologizing but coming close over and over again.

Tamago dropped her off at her home first and she thanked him for a fun day out. Likewise, he said.

He waved until she was inside and held his hand in the air for awhile after she was gone. He looked at his hand.

It was definitely sweaty. But there was a certain warmth in it that he could feel, even after she had let go.

Like he could feel her soft, small hand still holding him down to earth.