It's Always a Party with You Two

You’re half-sunk into the couch, phone in hand, scrolling without seeing. From the bedroom comes the faint hum of Sakura’s hairdryer — quarter to eight, she’s been getting ready for hours, not a hint of rush in her.

The doorbell rings.

You set your phone aside, eyes flicking toward the sound before calling out, “Babe! Kkura. Kazuha’s here!”

A distant, muffled reply: “Can you get it?”

Already on your feet, you make your way to the door. The second it swings open, you’re greeted by Kazuha — black robes, black top, black pants, black boots. Even the tie pulling her hair back in a neat bun is black. Only the silver lightsaber at her side breaks the monotony. For all that dark clothing, her smile is small, almost sheepish.

She hesitates a beat too long, flinching back half a step when your eyes meet. Then she just stands there, lips pressed tight, staring up at you.

“Hi?” you offer first, breaking the silence.

“Hi.” Her voice comes quiet, shy.

You step back, opening the door wider in welcome. She stepped inside in exchange, passing over you.

“So… Luke Skywalker?”

“Hm?” She glances over her shoulder at you as you follow her inside, laughing lightly in confusion. “Who?”

“Uh… is that not your costume?” You’re already drifting back toward the couch as Kazuha continues past you — of course she’s heading straight for the kitchen, scouting for snacks.

“Is it? Sakura just handed me this and said we had to match.” Her voice carries from behind the counter as you sink into the cushions again. A moment later, you spot the top of her head barely peeking over as she crouches into the fridge.

“I baked some brownies earlier. Green tupperware,” you call.

She straightens with the container in hand, raid successful. Popping the lid, she peers inside suspiciously before padding toward you. “Yours, not Kkura’s?”

“Yes, mine. I can cook too, you know. Ms. Miyawaki Sakura herself was my mentor, in case you’re still doubtful.” You refocus on the TV as it finishes booting.

“Pumpkin-shaped cookies. Cute. Very Halloween.” Her voice drifts closer, then hovers right above you. “What are you watching?”

“Just some video essay. Online game.” You tilt your head back slightly; sure enough, Kazuha’s standing behind the couch, gaze fixed on the screen.

“Five–Six hours?” she scoffs. “Six hours about a video game you’re not even playing? And this is why you’re skipping the party? Really? You’re just gonna let your girlfriend go without you?”

Eyes still on the TV, you reply evenly, “First — not just any party. Yunjin’s. She’ll look out for the two of you. Second — she’s not going alone, she’s going with you. You’ll take care of her. Third — those two things combined means I get a quiet night.”

Kazuha pauses, then murmurs, “Sakura’s more likely to take care of me than I am of her.”

Good point. You stay quiet at that.

Kazuha’s halfway through chewing a brownie when she suddenly gasps — a sharp, startled sound — and nearly drops the container.

“Hello there!” a third voice chimes in — familiar, referenced, intentional.

You glance up.

Sakura stands behind her, a smug grin on her face, one hand still midair from the playful slap. “Couldn’t resist,” she says, tone sing-song.

You narrow your eyes. She’s doing it again. “Sakura. Was that a quote—”

Before you can finish, Kazuha whirls around, eyes wide, clutching the tupperware like a shield. “Kkura! What was that slap for!?”

Sakura only laughs, stepping back to show herself — her costume finally revealed. White gown, silver belt, the faint shimmer of fabric catching the light. Her hair’s half-done, one of Leia’s iconic buns complete, the other still loose around her shoulder.

“You were bent over, sticking your butt out,” she teases, twirling a strand of hair. “I just wanted to see if it was still as firm as I remember.”

Before Kazuha can form a response — too busy spluttering between shyness and surprise — you interject, “Princess Leia?”

“Obviously,” Sakura replies, already turning back toward the mirror to finish her hair.

“That seems like a hassle,” you remark. “Why not just buy a wig or extensions?”

“I figured I could do it myself. It’s a fun challenge,” she says, focusing on her reflection. “I can knit, so why not hair? I’ve got great hair — why use a fake?”

You watch her twist and pin the final coil into place, while Kazuha silently circles around the couch and drops beside you. She’s close — close enough that her shoulder brushes yours — but she doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she does, and just doesn’t think much of it.

Neither should you. You’ve been closer before, and this means nothing by comparison.

Your gaze drifts back to Sakura. “So, babe, why’s Kazuha Luke? Couldn’t she be Rey or someone? Why the crossdressing — or Luke specifically?”

“Because,” Sakura says simply, turning toward you as she walks closer. “This would’ve made more sense if you came with us.”

You glance back, feeling the sudden pressure on your side, Kazuha’s leaning into you — her shoulder brushing yours, her weight light but present. It’s a familiar kind of closeness, the kind that’s never needed explaining. The three of you have always been like this. Even after that night — that blurred, heat-hazed freak you all never got to sit down and talk about — nothing really changed. Or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

It should feel normal. It was. But when your eyes meet Sakura’s, that certainty wavers. She doesn’t say anything — doesn’t frown, doesn’t even blink — and that silence feels too composed. Shouldn’t she at least react, when your best friend is this close to your boyfriend?

Something got caught at the edge of your mind, a hint of normalcy, in otherwise atypical arrangement of a trio that you had, a thought: What if she’s not as fine with it as she looks?

And just like that, the weight that was leaning on your shoulder — what was seconds ago light as a feather now weighs, suddenly your odd clashed with the norm.

“If all three of us went,” Sakura continues, closer than before. You turn to her, pouting now, “you would’ve been Darth Vader. You still have that really good cosplay from a few years back.”

“And…?” you prompt, still waiting for her real answer.

“…And, we would’ve been a trio! The family!.” Sakura’s hands flew into your cheek holding you to face her, with a bit of force to squish. Her smile is radiant, playful, and just a little too knowing.“You are the Sith-Lord we were looking for–”

“No.” you immediately break out of her hold.

“What?” she feigns innocence, eyes wide with amusement.

“You’ve been quoting Star Wars nonstop. Every chance you get. Non. Stop.”

She grins — the dumb, guilty kind. “What? It’s fun! I didn’t make fun of you for being a Star Wars nerd, and now that I try to join in you’re policing me?”

Her gaze drifts past you. “Kazuha likes it. It’s fun, right?”