"Ah—sorry, sorry, Shiraishi-senpai! Here's the menu, please take a look first."

I finally snapped out of it. Yeah, I'd been staring. Can you blame me? That kimono wasn't just clothing—it was a weapon, a full assault on my ability to function as a sane human being.

"What do you think of my kimono, Ginjo-san?"

She smiled when she caught me looking. Not the polite, professional smile. No, this was the kind that said she knew exactly what she was doing.

"…Yes. Very beautiful."

That's it? That's all I could manage? Genius-level vocabulary, Ginjo. Bravo.

"It suits you so well. Really beautiful," I added quickly, before my brain short-circuited completely.

"Thank you, Ginjo-san… Now, please tell me about your special food."

The round fan in her hand lowered just enough for me to see the faint blush on her cheeks. Steam from the nearby pots wasn't the only thing heating the air.

I coughed into my fist. Time to play the part of the professional ramen vendor.

"Our specialty is Hokkaido ramen. Three main flavors—"

She tilted her head. "Three flavors? No wonder you have so many customers. Please recommend one for me, Ginjo-san."

"Right. Sapporo ramen—rich soy sauce flavor. Asahikawa—miso-based. Hakodate—salt broth, nice and clear. Personally… I think Sapporo suits you best."

"Then I'll listen to Ginjo-san."

She knelt down gracefully, the hem of her kimono fanning out into a field of blooming cherry blossoms. It should be illegal to look that elegant while ordering noodles.

"One Sapporo ramen!" I called toward the kitchen.

The place was packed. Even though I wanted to keep talking to her, duty called. By the time I returned, she was still waiting, calm as ever—like a scene from an old painting.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Shiraishi-senpai. This is our Sapporo soy sauce ramen. Please try it."

The steam curled upward, carrying the scent of pork bone broth, stir-fried vegetables, and garlic oil.

"This ramen is so delicious, Ginjo-san… it's the first time I've tasted something so rich."

She closed her eyes slightly after the first bite, and for a second, I swear the whole festival noise outside faded away.

I chuckled. "I should thank the cooking class. They tried dozens of recipes after I gave them the idea. Looks like it paid off."

"It seems Ginjo-san's class will be the star attraction this year."

Then she leaned in, voice softer. "By the way, Ginjo-san… will you be working here all day? Or… can we go out for a walk later?"

My heartbeat did a double-tap. "I'm just filling in. Once I get replaced, I'm free. Can I walk with you, Shiraishi-senpai?"

"Of course… if Ginjo-san is willing."

"If I'm willing? Of course I am!"

I dashed back into work mode, forcing my mind to focus. Behind me, she continued to eat in that refined way that somehow made me jealous of the chopsticks.

…Where the heck is Okamoto?

I scanned the crowd, spotted a suspicious head peeking from behind a sign. Before he could run, I grabbed him by the collar.

"Yo, Ginjo-san! Fancy meeting you here—uh, why are you wearing a shop robe?"

"You're slacking off, so I have to cover for you. What were you peeking at?"

"Your sweet, sweet moment with Shiraishi-senpai. Hard to resist."

"Cut it. My shift's over—it's your turn."

I shoved the robe into his hands.

"Hey, I've got a date!"

"Sure you do. With your imagination?"

Ignoring his protests, I returned to the stall.

Lisa Shiraishi was waiting, still and graceful, like a single cherry tree in full bloom.

"Shiraishi-senpai, let's go. I'm free now."

She nodded, following me out. Even though we'd been alone before, something about today felt… different.

Walking beside a kimono-clad beauty through a bustling school festival—yeah, this was the kind of thing a guy could get used to.

"Let's go find a candy apple," she said, her smile almost brighter than the lanterns.

"Sure. We should enjoy it while we can."

She glanced sideways. "Ginjo-san, have you ever had a date at a school festival?"

"No… not really."

"Liar! Someone as popular as you?"

I shrugged. No point explaining. "What about you?"

She lowered her gaze slightly. "You know my nickname—Ice Cold Flower. Many have asked, but… I've never had a festival date."

There was a small pause. She looked at me, her voice quieter, almost shy.

"If there ever was one… this would be the closest."