Write me a romance between a guy and a girl, both university students. She's Yuki, a short, cute half asian goth girl in her first year at university. Her fashion sense tends towards dark jeans twinned with simple dark coloured t-shirts and boots. She has hair the colour of copper and dark eyes, as well as an athletic physique. She has an overbearing, rich dad and a step-mother she hates, and an older brother who's her only real friend. Their mum died when they were young, and it hit Yuki hard. Her mum came from an old samurai family in Japan, and left Yuki the family sword, something her dad sees as a useless antique. Yuki finds solace in kendo, and her sensei is more of a dad to her than her real one, and loves old samurai films, and studies history, focusing on Japan. She's never had a relationship, being seen as the weird girl, but for years she's had a crush on her older brother's best friend. He's Kyle, a tall muscular guy, a gym lover who's had a lot of success with women, thanks to an easygoing personality, his physique and looks. But he's never had a proper relationship, since he's only wanted one girl his whole life, Yuki. He's in his final university year, and has had a crush on her since high school but never acted on it, his hidden shy side getting in the way. But when he sees Yuki sat alone at a house party her brother is hosting, he can't help what he feels, and sits with her all night, the two of them laughing all night.

Chapter 2: After the Party

The morning sun came through her window like an accusation, too bright, too cheerful, and Yuki pulled her pillow over her face and groaned.

Her head throbbed. Not from the vodka—she'd barely had three swallows—but from the fact that she'd lain awake until four in the morning, staring at her ceiling, replaying every single second of the garden. Kyle's voice. Kyle's almost-touch. Kyle's eyes in the dark, watching her leave.

She'd checked her phone seventeen times before finally passing out. No messages. Not that she'd expected any. They didn't text. They'd never texted. She didn't even have his number.

But she wanted it. God, she wanted it.

By noon, she'd showered, dressed, and made it to campus. Her first lecture wasn't until two, but she couldn't stay in that house another minute. The party debris was everywhere—red cups on the lawn, someone's jacket draped over the banister, the faint smell of stale beer in the air. Kenji was still asleep. She'd left him a note on the kitchen counter: Clean up your own mess. I'm not your maid.

The courtyard was busy, students rushing between buildings with their headphones in and their coffee cups clutched like lifelines. Yuki found her usual spot by the kendo club noticeboard, leaning against the post, letting the afternoon sun warm her face. The poster for the upcoming tournament was peeling at the corner, and she made a mental note to tell the club president to fix it.

She reached into her bag and pulled out the cloth-wrapped bundle. Her mother's sword. She didn't usually carry it around campus, but she'd needed it today, needed the weight of it against her palm. Her father's voicemail was still sitting in her phone, unreturned. She'd listened to it three more times in the shower, letting the anger build and recede like a tide.

The buyer was coming next week. She had seven days to figure out what to do.

She traced the edge of the saya with her thumb, feeling the smooth lacquer under her skin. The sword was old. Older than her father's money, older than his pretensions, older than the whole ridiculous country he'd built for himself. It belonged to her mother's family. It belonged to her.

Movement in her peripheral vision made her look up.

Kyle.

He was walking across the courtyard, a coffee cup in each hand, his flannel shirt open over a grey t-shirt that stretched across his chest. His hair was damp, like he'd just showered, and he was scanning the crowd with an expression that was almost nervous.

Yuki's heart did something complicated in her chest. She straightened up, tucking the sword back into her bag.

Kyle spotted her. His face broke into a grin, and he changed direction, weaving through the students until he reached her.

"Hey," he said, slightly breathless.

"Hey."

He held out one of the coffee cups. "Peace offering."

"What for?"

"For leaving you alone with that bottle last night. I should've stayed."

Yuki took the cup. Their fingers brushed, and she felt it all the way up her arm. "You did stay. For a while."

"Not long enough." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost shy. "I almost texted you. Like, three times. But I didn't have your number, and asking Kenji for it felt... weird."

Yuki laughed, surprising herself. "I checked my phone every ten minutes. Just in case."

Kyle's grin widened. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

They stood there, grinning at each other like idiots, and Yuki felt something loosen in her chest. The coffee was warm in her hands, and Kyle was here, and the sun was shining, and for a moment the whole world felt possible.

"Walk with me?" Kyle asked.

"Where?"

"Nowhere. Just... walk."

So they walked. Past the library, past the science building, past the café where Yuki sometimes studied. The campus was alive with noise—bikes whirring past, fragments of conversation, someone playing guitar badly under a tree. Kyle walked beside her, close enough that their shoulders almost touched, and Yuki was acutely aware of every inch of space between them.

"So," Kyle said. "That sword. Tell me about it."

Yuki glanced at him. "You really want to know?"

"I asked, didn't I?"

She thought about it for a moment, then pulled the bundle from her bag. She unwrapped the cloth just enough to show him the saya, the dark lacquer gleaming in the sunlight.

"It's been in my mother's family for over four hundred years," she said. "There's a record of it in the family archive, back in Japan. It was forged by a smith named Kanemoto, who was famous for his edge geometry. Her ancestors carried it into battle. One of them used it at Sekigahara."

"Sekigahara?"

"Big battle. 1600. It basically decided who ruled Japan for the next two hundred years."

Kyle stared at the sword. "That's insane. It's like holding a piece of history."

"I know." She wrapped it back up, tucking it away. "My father doesn't get it. He sees an antique, something to sell. But it's not just an object. It's... it's my mother. It's everything she came from."

Kyle was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Kenji told me she died when you were young."

"I was nine."

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged, a gesture she'd perfected over the years. "It was a long time ago."

"That doesn't mean it stops hurting."

Yuki looked at him. He was watching her with those dark eyes, serious and steady, and she felt something crack open inside her chest. Nobody ever said that. Nobody ever acknowledged that the grief didn't have an expiration date.

"No," she said quietly. "It doesn't."

They walked in silence for a while, and it wasn't uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that felt like a conversation, like they were saying things without words.

"I'm stressed about finals," Kyle said eventually. "I know that's like, the least interesting thing in the world compared to dead mothers and four-hundred-year-old swords, but I'm kind of losing my mind."

Yuki snorted. "What's your major again?"

"Business. I know, I know, boring. My dad's a corporate lawyer, and I'm supposed to follow in his footsteps, but honestly I'd rather do something else. I just don't know what."

"You could be a personal trainer. You spend enough time at the gym."

Kyle laughed. "That's what Kenji says. But I don't know if I want to turn my hobby into a job, you know? What if I start hating it?"

"What do you hate right now?"

"Feeling like I'm living someone else's life. Like I'm on a track I didn't choose and I can't get off."

Yuki nodded slowly. She understood that feeling better than she could say. "My father wants me to study business too. Go to law school. Join the family firm. Marry someone with a trust fund and produce grandchildren he can show off at dinner parties."

"Sounds awful."

"It is."

"So what do you want to do?"

She thought about it for a moment, watching the dappled light shift through the oak leaves. "I want to study history. Japanese history, specifically. Maybe teach. Maybe write. I don't know. But I want it to be mine. Not his."

Kyle stopped walking. They were standing near the edge of the courtyard, under the shade of a massive oak, and he turned to face her. "That's the coolest thing I've ever heard."

"It's not cool. It's just... what I want."

"No, I mean it. Everyone I know is just going through the motions. They're doing what their parents want, or what looks good on a resume, or what pays the most. You actually know what you want. That's rare."

Yuki's face warmed. She looked down at her coffee cup, suddenly embarrassed. "I don't know what I want. Not really. I just know what I don't want."

"Same thing."

"It's not."

"It's close enough."

She looked up at him, and he was smiling, that crooked smile that made her stomach flip. "You're kind of annoying, you know that?"

"People keep telling me."

They walked a little more, and eventually Kyle said, "So, is the sword thing really happening? Is your dad actually going to sell it?"

Yuki's grip tightened on her coffee cup. "He thinks so."

"But?"

"But I'm not going to let him."

"How are you going to stop him?"

She didn't have an answer. Not yet. But saying it out loud made it feel real, made it feel like a promise instead of just a hope.

"I'll figure something out," she said.

They ended up near the kendo club's outdoor training area, a shaded space with a rack of shinai and a few students practicing basic drills. Yuki paused, watching them. The rhythm of their movements was familiar, soothing, like a song she'd known her whole life.

"Do you miss it?" Kyle asked.

"Miss what?"

"Competing. You used to do tournaments, right?"

"Yeah. I still train, but I don't compete as much anymore. Too much other stuff going on."

"That's a shame. You were really good."

Yuki looked at him. "You said that last night. You came to all my tournaments?"

"Every single one." He said it casually, like it was nothing, but his ears went pink. "Kenji used to drag me along, but honestly, I would've gone anyway. You were like... I don't know. Like a warrior. It was impressive."

Yuki didn't know what to say. She felt like she was standing on the edge of something, a cliff or a diving board, and she didn't know if she was supposed to jump or step back.

"Teach me something," Kyle said.

"What?"

"Kendo. Teach me a stance. I've always wanted to try it."

Yuki laughed. "You're serious?"

"Dead serious. Come on. Just one stance."

She hesitated, then set down her coffee and walked over to the shinai rack. She picked one up, testing its weight, then handed it to Kyle. "Okay. Hold it like this."

She positioned herself beside him, close enough that she could smell his cologne again. Cedar and something sweet. She reached out and adjusted his grip, her fingers brushing over his.

"Your right hand goes at the top, left hand at the bottom. No, the other way. Yeah, like that."

Kyle was looking at her, not at the sword. "Then what?"

"Then you step forward with your right foot. Keep your back straight. Shoulders relaxed."

He tried to mimic her stance, and Yuki moved closer, pressing her palm against his lower back. "Straighten this. And your chin—don't tuck it. You want to look at your opponent."

"I'm looking at you."

Yuki's breath caught. He was. He was looking at her with those dark eyes, and she was suddenly aware of how close they were, how her hand was still on his back, how his face was inches from hers.

"Good," she managed. "That's... that's good."

They stayed like that for a long moment, neither moving, neither pulling away. The shinai was between them, a thin line of bamboo, and Yuki could feel her heart pounding in her throat.

"Yuki," Kyle said.

"Yeah?"

"I want to ask you something, but I'm kind of nervous."

She swallowed. "What?"

He took a breath. "Dinner. Friday. Just the two of us. Not at a party, not with Kenji, not with anyone else."

Yuki's brain went blank. She stared at him, sure she'd misheard, sure he couldn't possibly mean what she thought he meant.

"Dinner," she repeated.

"Yeah. Dinner."

"Like... a date?"

Kyle's ears went pink again. "Yeah. Like a date. If you want."

She wanted. She wanted so badly it was embarrassing. She wanted to say yes, to throw her arms around him, to kiss him right there in front of the whole campus.

But what came out was: "What about all your other girls?"

Kyle blinked. "What other girls?"

"Come on. You're Kyle. You've dated half the campus."

His expression shifted, something flickering behind his eyes. "None of that was serious. And none of it was..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "I don't know how to say this without sounding like an idiot."

"Try."

He met her eyes. "I've had a crush on you since high school. Since the first time I saw you at that tournament. You were so focused, so fierce. I thought, that's the coolest girl I've ever seen. And I never said anything because you were Kenji's little sister, and it felt weird, and I was scared."

Yuki's heart was doing something dangerous, something that felt like falling.

"You were scared?" she asked.

"Yeah. I'm kind of shy. I know it doesn't seem like it, but I am."

"You? Shy?"

"I fake confidence really well."

She stared at him. The shinai was still between them, his hands wrapped around it, and she realized with a start that his hands were shaking. Just slightly. Just enough that she could notice.

"You're serious," she said.

"Dead serious."

She reached out and closed her hand around his, over the shinai, and he stopped shaking.

"Yes," she said. "Friday. Dinner."

Kyle's face broke into a grin so wide it was almost ridiculous. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He laughed, pulling her into a hug before she could react, the shinai clattering to the ground. Her arms went around him automatically, her face pressed into his chest, and she could feel his heartbeat, fast and strong, matching her own.

"Thank God," he said into her hair. "I was so nervous."

"You didn't seem nervous."

"I was dying inside."

She laughed, and the sound felt strange and new, like something she hadn't heard from herself in a long time. Kyle's arms tightened around her, and she closed her eyes, letting herself feel it. The warmth. The solidness. The rightness of it.

When he finally pulled back, they were both grinning like fools.

"So," Kyle said. "I'm going to kiss you now. Is that okay?"

Yuki's heart stopped. "Here? In front of everyone?"

"Yup."

"People are watching."

"Let them."

He cupped her face in his hands, and Yuki closed her eyes, and when his lips met hers, the world went quiet. The campus, the students, the noise—it all faded to nothing. There was only Kyle, and the warmth of his mouth, and the way his thumb brushed her cheek like she was something precious.

When he pulled back, she was breathless.

"That was..." she started, and couldn't finish.

"Yeah," Kyle agreed. "It was."

They stood there, foreheads pressed together, and Yuki felt something shift inside her. The anger was still there, buried under her ribs, patient and waiting. But for the first time in a long time, it wasn't the loudest thing she felt.

"I have your number now," Kyle said. "I'm going to text you. Like, a lot."

"Okay."

"You're going to get tired of me."

"Probably."

He laughed. "Fair enough."

Yuki picked up the shinai from the ground and handed it back to him. "You still owe me a dinner."

"I know. Friday. I'll pick you up at seven."

"Where are we going?"

"Surprise."

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Fine. But if it's somewhere fancy, I'm wearing boots."

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

They walked back toward the main courtyard, and Kyle reached down and took her hand. His palm was warm and rough against hers, calloused from the gym, and she laced her fingers through his and held on.

"Hey," he said, as they reached the noticeboard where she'd been waiting earlier.

"What?"

"I'm glad you checked your phone every ten minutes."

Yuki laughed. "Shut up."

"Make me."

She kissed him again, quick and sweet, and when she pulled back, his grin was so bright it could have powered the whole campus.

"Friday," she said.

"Friday."

She walked away with her heart in her throat and her hand still warm from his. The sword was heavy in her bag, a reminder of everything that waited for her at home. Her father's voicemail. The buyer. The fight she knew was coming.

But right now, none of that mattered.

Right now, she had Kyle, and Friday, and a promise that felt like the beginning of something.

She pulled out her phone and texted Kenji: Don't wait up Friday night. I have plans.

His reply came thirty seconds later: Plans?? With who??

Yuki smiled and tucked her phone away.

Some things were worth keeping secret. Just for a little while.