Chiaki poured everything that she had into the kiss, every fiber of her being standing at attention, wanting to bury Aka in the feelings that she was feeling for the woman, on her eighteenth birthday in that small room that seemed to isolate them from the outside world. More so because of the rain, actually. It was almost too good, almost too perfect that she had met with Akaneya on today, of all days, her birthday. It was almost too perfect that she was holding the woman in a purple dress in her arms, the coolness of the gloves that Aka was wearing caressing her own back. It was almost dreamlike, because even though the gloves were cool, almost cold to the touch, the woman that she held in her arms, Aka, was warm, supple, soft to the touch. The wearing of the years couldn't keep her from feeling like that, and Chiaki saw through the facade that Aka had put on. Or rather the wall that she had put up.

The flame that was inside of Chiaki seemed to light up Aka, and made her a vibrant fire, a vibrant red rather than a muted red like she had seen her when she was suppressing her emotions before. All of the rushing of emotion she saw in her eyes and Chiaki's eyes held in them a warm sensation, like that of a warm spring, meant for bathing, for soothing, for healing. She was cool like water, calm, but also warm like a spring dew on the leaf of a tree. She sighed at the end of the kiss, it was a sigh of contentment, a sigh of completion, a sigh of belonging.

Chiaki looked Akaneya up and down and nodded, "I'll make sure of it, I'll make sure that you are safe, and that I am as well. I will get stronger for the both of us, and I know you will too. We won't be a hindrance but steel sharpening steel." She giggled a bit and leaned forward, kissing Aka's forehead tenderly before giving her a little squeeze and getting up, her skirt hem right above Aka's eyebrows. Clearing her throat and blushing she slapped the fabric of her dress between her legs, "I ah, the cake. Right, the cake, we forgot the cake, and your wish." She nodded, heading toward the cake, redder than a beet, "It's tradition to give you a birthday wish."

WC: 9915