She emerged at last.
Expression blank, ears red, hands pale.
Her eyes held three parts vacancy, three parts sorrow, three parts defiance, and one part utter disillusionment with the world.
Meanwhile, Takizawa had mentally replayed several comedy skits in his head.
The handsome boy sat calmly by the flowerbed, not a trace of impatience, his face adorned with a polite, radiant smile. Unlike men who wilted after half an hour of shopping with their partners, sighing in despair, he was a gentleman—respectful, courteous.
But Sakura was far from pleased.
Her fists clenched tighter.
"Feeling lighter? Need another minute?" Takizawa asked, considerate.
"No!" Sakura hissed through gritted teeth.
"Legs numb? Rest a bit before we go?" He added thoughtfully.
"Let's move! Stop yapping!" Sakura erupted, fearless as a cornered beast, storming ahead with determined strides.
"You're going the wrong way. That's the Anpanman zone," Takizawa called after her.
"Tch." She stiffly pivoted.
Not easy, but I've finally scored a point.
Takizawa smirked secretly.
Years of restraint and backing down led to this moment. It's for your own good—face your fears, overcome them. Even a master of keeping face couldn't suppress a trembling lip, heart soaring.
Your misery? I'll cherish it forever!
The walk felt endless.
Each step drained a fraction of Sakura's courage. From ahead came piercing shrieks and wails, like tortured souls in a fiery abyss, lashed by a demon overseer's blazing whip. Such brutal, bloody torment.
This was the endgame.
The ever-confident, spirited girl would crumble into a vulnerable child, snot flying, tears streaming.
Takizawa didn't usually mock with malice, but extremes breed opposites. In this moment, his dark side bloomed, overtaking him. A tiny devil whispered: Record it, record it.
Yet, as he neared the classic ride, his expression shifted from a joker's wild glee to the bland calm of an old man sipping plain porridge.
A garish pink roller coaster, packed with riders, rolled past, its front a harmless panda head. The train twisted like a dragon, dragging screams of thrill and terror, pumping adrenaline… or not!
This is for kids?!
Takizawa raged internally.
The coaster hugged the ground, compact and safe, with the steadiness of a mobility scooter and the comfort of a cradle. Its wildest stretch climbed, then dipped, kids screaming as if lost in a cosmic cycle, tossed by fate, wailing in chaos.
But Takizawa's heart was still, unmoved.
His old driving test hill was steeper than this!
The perfect chance, gone. He fumed in silent outrage.
Whatever, we're here.
He sighed, his noble spirit reclaiming control. Turning, he lost sight of Sakura, then spotted her crouched, head in hands.
"Tying your shoes?" Takizawa asked, curious.
"Yeah."
"Your shoes don't have laces, though?"
"You know that and still ask?!"
"I'm just off, mood crashed," Takizawa said, disappointed. "Let's get tickets."
Her crouched form quivered.
"What's the point of this kiddie ride?"
"Relax, we can ride it. See the parents joining? We're here, so let's do it."
Dark impulses faded before this panda-themed, wholesome attraction. This wasn't a coaster—it was therapy.
Surrounded by parents with kids, they shuffled onto the empty train.
Tension hung in the air; chatty kids now hushed, lips pursed.
As for Sakura… her face was ghostly pale?!
Takizawa glanced left. She gripped the metal bar, body curled like a shrimp, eyes locked on the near-flat track, trembling like she faced a mortal foe.
"…You're scared of this?" Takizawa asked, uncertain, no longer teasing but genuinely shocked.
"Not scared!" Sakura forced a grin, unconvincing.
"Can you not claw my arm…" Takizawa winced, her nails digging into his flesh.
DING DING DING, Panda Express, launching!
The coaster, dubbed Panda Express, gave a playful nod to its riders, starting slowly. Kids looked around, delighted.
Sakura clearly held her breath.
Takizawa, too, gasped from her grip.
Panda Express rolled out, a safe machine built for kids' joy. Pink paint, cute stickers, it played catchy nursery rhymes—a nanny among coasters.
Its speed crept gently. If this was a sports car, his secondhand, 30-kph pink moped was a mythical beast, a god-tier stallion.
Trying to ignore the arm pain by thinking of old war stories, Takizawa was caught off guard.
Panda Express proved itself, nanny turning battle maid, accelerating to match a city bus's terrifying pace!
Sakura swallowed hard, hairs standing.
Then came a sprint, turns, and loops in a combo.
A three-meter drop sparked wild yells from kids, unleashing primal energy. A snaking path earned nods from parents used to real coasters for its harmlessness. A curved meteor move brought elevator-like centrifugal force, nature's grand touch.
The climax: a six-meter death dive, a plunge from heaven to hell, like a fallen angel's judgment.
"AAAAH!" Amid childish cries, Sakura's voice stood out.
"AAAAH!" Takizawa, no stoic hero, grimaced as her nails stabbed his arm.
Panda Express surged, riding the wind.
Sakura, drenched in sweat, tongue dry, held it together—barely. She flicked damp bangs from her forehead.
They'd looped back to the start. Her taut nerves eased.
She almost laughed.
That's it? Like a shot at the doctor—close your eyes, it's over.
Panda Express hit the start but didn't slow, cheerfully passing it.
"Kids, one more round, okay?" A gentle voice asked from the speakers.
"Yes!" Excited kids and amused parents agreed.
Sakura froze, her bright eyes dulling, color draining from the world, leaving only pale dread.
The coaster, carrying society's future, chimed with playful music, brimming with laughter.
A certain woman and man's screams drowned in the joy.
***
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