The days leading up to Hana's arrival in Cirebon were unlike anything Phuby had ever experienced. His nerves were shot, his room was spotless (a rare miracle), and he even went as far as ironing his anime-themed button-up shirt—though his mom, Mrs. Wulan, still gave him that look.
"You're really going to wear that to the airport?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"It's classy. It's limited edition," Phuby argued, smoothing the front of the pastel-print shirt.
Mrs. Wulan chuckled and shook her head. "At least you showered."
He had. Twice.
Hana was scheduled to land at Kertajati International Airport in the afternoon. Phuby had barely slept the night before. It wasn't just the anticipation—it was the fear. What if she didn't like him in person? What if the chemistry they'd built through screens didn't translate into reality?
Still, he clutched the hand-painted sign that read "Hana ♥" as he stood in the arrivals hall, glancing nervously at every woman with straight black hair and a rolling suitcase.
And then he saw her.
She walked through the gates with a white cardigan draped over a sky-blue dress. Her hair was tied in a loose ponytail, and she wheeled a lavender suitcase beside her, eyes scanning the crowd.
Phuby raised the sign a little higher.
Their eyes met.
She smiled—wide and bright, just like in the video calls—and without hesitation, she jogged toward him and wrapped him in a gentle hug.
"I'm here," she whispered, in English, her voice soft but clear.
Phuby's face turned red. "You're really here," he replied, frozen in the embrace but melting inside.
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Back at the Shophouse
Phuby had spent the past week preparing the guest room at the newly rented three-story shophouse, complete with a Japanese-style futon, a small kotatsu, and even a fresh vase of local pink bougainvillea flowers.
Hana's eyes lit up when she entered.
"Wow… You really did this?" she asked, placing her suitcase beside the neatly folded blankets.
"I wanted to make you feel comfortable," Phuby said. "It's not Hokkaido, but... we have WiFi and sambal."
Hana giggled.
The first few days flew by in a blur of introductions, food tastings, and cultural exchanges. Mrs. Wulan immediately took to Hana, serving her warm soto mie, and explaining every ingredient in exaggerated Bahasa, occasionally throwing glances to Phuby to translate. Om Luky, ever the quiet observer, gave her a respectful nod and later handed her a bowl of es campur with a smile.
To everyone's surprise, Hana picked up local phrases fast—especially "enak banget!" which she gleefully used after every meal.
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Touring Cirebon
Phuby took Hana around the city—starting from the batik village in Trusmi, where she marvelled at the craftsmanship, to the Keraton Kasepuhan, where she listened intently to the history of the Sundanese kingdom.
At a roadside warung, they sat on plastic chairs, sipping es kelapa muda and laughing about the time Phuby mistakenly typed "I love you" in kanji during one of their early chats, not knowing Hana was recording the call.
"You blushed so hard, even your microphone turned pink," she teased.
"You still have that recording?" he groaned.
"Of course. It's my alarm tone."
They laughed until their stomachs hurt.
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A Deeper Bond
One quiet night on the rooftop of their shophouse, under a canopy of stars, Phuby and Hana sat on a worn bean bag, eating grilled sweet corn and sharing stories about their childhood.
"My dad passed away when I was in high school," Phuby said quietly. "Right before my final exams. He and my mom had already divorced when I was in second grade. It... was rough."
Hana reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm sorry, Phuby."
He nodded, grateful not just for her sympathy, but for how she didn't press or pity him.
"What about you?" he asked.
"My brother died when I was ten," she said. "He was the one who introduced me to anime. Since then, I guess it became my way to keep remembering him."
Silence fell—not awkward, but comfortable. Two lives, marked by loss, but now intersecting in something unexpectedly beautiful.
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Something Real
The next morning, Hana joined Phuby for his daily livestream—this time, just as a viewer sitting off-screen.
His subscribers immediately noticed the joy in his tone and the frequency of his glances to the side.
"You're glowing today, bro. Got a new camera or a new girlfriend?" one commenter joked.
Phuby laughed nervously.
After the stream, Hana leaned in and whispered, "They're very curious, huh?"
"Maybe… I'll tell them soon," he said, heart pounding.
She smiled. "Whenever you're ready."
That night, as the two watched the sunset from the rooftop, a thought bubbled up in Phuby's mind—something more certain than anything the system had ever rewarded him with:
This is the beginning of something real.
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