CHAPTER 49: CHAPTER 49

After the cheeky kiss on the bench and Mika’s adorably indignant response, the atmosphere between them softened. Mika had made it clear—Kokoro wasn’t getting off that easily. Her punishment? Another date. A proper, leisurely afternoon date around the heart of Tokyo. It was, in her words, the only fair price for her wounded pride.

So now, hand in hand, the two wandered beneath the towering buildings and bustling neon signs of central Tokyo. The city’s energy buzzed around them—laughter, traffic, the distant music of a street performer strumming a shamisen near a food stall. Mika wore a cute cream beret and an off-shoulder top with her white skirt, effortlessly drawing glances from passersby. Kokoro, now back in a more normal get-up—hoodie, jeans, sneakers—walked beside her, his fingers interlocked with hers.

What Kokoro didn’t know, however, was that they weren’t alone.

From hidden corners, balconies, and among the pedestrians, Mika’s secret bodyguards kept careful watch. Dressed in absurd disguises—one with a long red wig and another in a polka-dotted dress that did little to hide his sheer bulk—they whispered among themselves with a blend of pride and sorrow.

"Our little lady’s finally found someone..." one muttered, dabbing his eye with a tissue.

"She’s growing up so fast," another sobbed behind oversized pink sunglasses.

Back with the couple, Mika was gleaming with joy as she pulled Kokoro along toward a cozy ice cream stand by the park. But Kokoro, after some hesitation, tugged gently on her hand to stop.

"Mika," he said, voice low.

She turned to him, slightly tilting her head. "Hm?"

"I want to tell you something. About tomorrow."

Mika blinked. "Tomorrow?"

Kokoro nodded, scratching the back of his neck. "I’ve... I’ve made a promise. With Sakura."

Mika’s eyes narrowed a touch.

"She wants me to monitor her date with her stepsister," Kokoro explained carefully. "Just to make sure nothing goes wrong. It’s kind of a big thing for her, and... well, since she has that photo, I couldn’t really refuse. But even if she didn’t have it, I think I’d still help. She’s weird, yeah, but not a bad person."

Kokoro slowly reached into his bag and pulled out the small disguise kit he had purchased—a cheap black mustache, and a black beard. He gave Mika an awkward smile as he held it up.

"This is my disguise."

Mika blinked at the mustache. Then slowly, her eyes returned to Kokoro. Her expression didn’t change. She simply exhaled and nodded.

"I see."

Kokoro was stunned for a moment. "You... you’re okay with it?"

Mika crossed her arms. "I’m okay with the idea. But not the timing."

"Huh?"

"You told me during our date." She huffed. "Way to ruin the mood, dummy."

Kokoro’s face burned red. "Ah—s-sorry. I just didn’t want to hide anything..."

Mika stared at him a few more seconds, then finally smiled. She reached up and flicked his forehead lightly. "You’re lucky I like you."

Then, as if shifting moods was her second nature, she brightened up completely. "To make up for that blunder, you’re extending this date until evening. No complaints."

Kokoro hesitated. He thought of his mother, his sister Yui, and his father who was surprisingly still at their home. Coming home late again might get him some side-eyes, maybe some teasing remarks or two. He could already hear Yui’s smug tone: "You were out with your girlfriend again, weren’t you?"

But then he looked at Mika—her radiant, mischievous expression, the sparkle in her ash-gray eyes—and realized he didn’t mind at all.

"Alright," he said with a faint smile. "Let’s make it count."

Mika’s face lit up. She let out a triumphant "Hehe~!" and immediately tugged Kokoro toward the busy street lined with shops, cafés, and boutiques. They window-shopped, tried silly couple filters at a photo booth, and even bought matching phone charms from a trinket shop—hers a tiny snow bunny, his a mini lion.

From a distance, the secret bodyguards continued to follow them.

"Did she just... buy him a couple charm?"

"She really is in love."

"Look at that punk. Smiling like a damn prince. Our lady’s never smiled like this before..."

In the background, the city pulsed with life. The crowd never ceased, yet within it all, Mika and Kokoro seemed to have carved a small, glowing world for themselves. And while shadows followed their every step, neither of them noticed—or cared.

Their day continued, stretching longer and warmer than either had expected. And the sun dipped lower, the golden hour embracing the couple as they made their way to their next spontaneous stop.

_______________________________

Sunday morning came with the familiar buzz of Tokyo’s vibrant heart, and with it came Katsuragi Kokoro—standing awkwardly near the colorful entrance of a popular parfait shop in the ever-busy streets of Harajuku. The rising sun poured golden hues over the buildings, and the streets brimmed with life.

The air was thick with motion: car horns beeping rhythmically, bicycles zipping past, and the chaotic blend of foot traffic echoing across the sidewalk. Harajuku was awake.

"Ugh, I can’t believe school starts again tomorrow," groaned a high school boy in a baggy hoodie, dragging his feet.

"Right? I just wanted one more day to play games," his friend replied, chomping on a taiyaki. "Weekends feel like they last five minutes. And our school doesn’t even have any cute girls to make it worth it."

"Mama, can I get the strawberry crepe again?" a little girl tugged at her mother’s hand, who clutched a grocery list while scanning a bakery window.

"Only if you eat your lunch first," replied the mother, scanning the stalls for the freshest produce.

"What do you mean the client rescheduled again?!" a man in a grey suit barked into his phone, adjusting his tie as he brisk-walked toward the train station.

Kokoro stood among them, trying to blend in—though he was quite painfully aware he probably stood out more than anyone else.

His disguise was... questionable at best. A soft brown overcoat, a plain shirt beneath, and blue pants, topped off with a suspiciously fake-looking black beard and mustache. As he stood there, he noticed a few glances from passersby, their expressions ranging from confused curiosity to trying-hard-not-to-laugh.

"Ugh, what am I doing..." Kokoro muttered to himself.

The beard might’ve been overkill. In Japan, a country where facial hair wasn’t exactly trendy and was often associated with either foreigners or drama actors, his look screamed, ’Hey, look at me! I might be in disguise!’

Still, there was a strange, almost endearing dignity to the getup. Kokoro felt, at least in his own head, like a mysterious gentleman watching over the world. Maybe even a seasoned private eye from an old noir flick.

But truthfully? He looked like a high school boy wearing a costume he’d borrowed from his grandfather’s closet.

This morning hadn’t exactly helped his confidence either.

First, there was breakfast.

His father, miraculously still at home, had looked up from the paper with one brow raised. "Another date? And with that getup? You joining a drama troupe or what?"

His mother had chimed in while flipping a pancake, "Are you going for undercover celebrity or local cryptid? I can’t tell."

Then came the most lethal jab.

Yui.

His younger sister, her cheeks puffed with rice, pointed dramatically. "BEHOLD! THE BEARDED KOKORO!" she declared with mock reverence. "Hide your hearts, ladies! He has ascended into manhood!"

"I would really want to trade families right now," Kokoro mumbled as he left, cheeks burning.

Now here he was, feet planted awkwardly on Harajuku’s sidewalk, trying to act natural as a middle-aged businessman gave him a double-take.

His phone buzzed. He fumbled to pull it from his coat.

Sakura: We’re on the train. Should arrive in about 30 minutes.

Kokoro stared at the message for a moment. Thirty minutes.

He exhaled, letting his shoulders drop a little. That meant thirty minutes of standing here like a beard-wearing weirdo... or...

He turned toward the shop.

The parfait shop was already alive with activity. A pastel-pink sign with a dancing spoon logo hovered above its glass entrance, and inside were smiling patrons, the clink of spoons against glass bowls, and the scent of whipped cream and sweet fruits wafting out into the street.

Alright. Might as well kill time inside. Besides, it’s part of the plan, Kokoro reassured himself. This was where Sakura and Naomi were supposed to begin their sisterly bonding date.

He stepped in.

The bell above the door chimed.

A cheerful waitress in a strawberry-themed apron gave him a polite bow. "Welcome! Table for one, sir?"

"Y-Yeah, just one," Kokoro replied, subtly adjusting his beard.

The inside was vibrant, decorated with faux candy canes along the walls and fairy lights dangling from the ceiling like sugar strands. Couples, families, and tourists chattered over colorful parfaits stacked with fruits, chocolate, mochi, and even tiny edible flowers.

Kokoro was seated near a window—perfect for keeping an eye out for the sisters when they arrived.

The waitress returned with a menu.

"Take your time," she said sweetly.

Kokoro scanned the choices. Strawberry Delight. Matcha Symphony. Choco-Banana Avalanche. He chose a smaller Mango Dream parfait. Nothing too flashy.

As he waited, he glanced outside, the crowd ever-flowing.

He shifted slightly, checking that the beard was still holding up. The adhesive itched.

"Maybe I should’ve gone with a wig," he muttered.

His parfait arrived, a vibrant tower of mango, ice cream, whipped cream, and golden syrup.

He took a spoonful. Cold, sweet, and tropical.

Alright. Now I just have to wait for the real show to start, he thought.

He set his phone on the table, watching the minutes pass as he alternated between savoring his dessert and observing the streets. The sisters would be arriving soon.

Kokoro leaned back slightly in his chair and let out a breath. The day had just begun.