CHAPTER 50: CHAPTER 50

Kokoro sat alone near the back of the parfait shop, slouched in the corner booth with one elbow propped against the window and the other hand stirring the remnants of his half-melted parfait. The spoon clinked idly against the glass bowl, a rhythmic echo of boredom. The bustling shop buzzed around him—customers chatting, parfait glasses clinking, the soft whir of the ice cream mixer behind the counter—but Kokoro’s mind had long detached from it all.

He let out a low sigh, glancing once more at the entrance. The doorbell jingled as another group entered. Kokoro, stirred by instinct, looked toward the sound, eyes faintly glimmering with hope. Maybe, finally, it was them.

And it was.

Sakura and Naomi had finally arrived.

Kokoro straightened subtly in his seat and sighed—not dramatically, but with honest relief. It had been over forty-five minutes since Sakura’s message, and he’d nearly dozed off twice.

Sakura wore a clean white, womanly long-sleeved blouse paired with a flowing blue skirt that danced around her calves. Her white heels clicked softly against the tiles as she entered, and her brown hair was tied neatly into a ponytail, bouncing lightly with every step.

Naomi, by contrast, had a more casual charm—her light pink hoodie slightly oversized, tucked into tight jeans that showed off her long legs. A pair of stylish blue sneakers grounded her steps with ease. Her short, messy black hair framed her face effortlessly, and her naturally light brown skin made her stand out in the soft-lit interior of the shop. A subtle smile played on her lips—a childlike joy that showed how genuinely excited she was to enjoy this day.

Despite the heels, Naomi stood slightly taller than her younger sister. Her presence carried a kind of calm maturity, albeit wrapped in a playful exterior.

Kokoro suppressed a yawn and gave his limbs a slow, calculated stretch under the table. His shoulders rolled back, spine loosening. He refrained from fully extending his arms—he didn’t want to draw more attention to himself than he already had. The disguise he wore wasn’t doing him any favors.

A soft brown coat hung over his shoulders, hiding the simple white shirt he had underneath. His blue pants were modest, but it was the fake black mustache and short black beard that really caught looks. Every now and then, a passing customer would glance his way, eyes flickering with subtle curiosity. In Japan, facial hair like this—especially fake ones—weren’t exactly commonplace. Kokoro was aware.

But he didn’t take it off.

Since, again, despite how dumb he looked—and he fully admitted he looked dumb—he kind of liked it. It made him feel like a sophisticated undercover agent. Or at least a weird uncle with a mission.

As the sisters approached the counter, Kokoro shifted slightly, pretending to look out the window. Out of the corner of his vision, he watched them.

Naomi was already lost in thought, trying to decide which parfait to get. Her eyes flicked between the colorful menu boards above the register and the parfait displays by the glass case, her head tilting cutely with indecision.

Sakura, however, wasn’t nearly as interested in the menu. Her eyes roamed the shop. Not with curiosity, but with practiced caution. She played the role of a curious customer well—arms loosely crossed, occasionally peering at a decoration or squinting at the menu—but Kokoro knew better. She was looking for him.

And then their eyes met.

Sakura spotted him.

She didn’t point. Didn’t call out. But her lips curled just slightly, almost imperceptibly. Then her cheeks puffed ever so slightly, and she turned her head as if to hide a laugh.

Kokoro, noticing this, stiffened and immediately looked away.

"Don’t laugh, don’t laugh..." he muttered under his breath, cheeks turning a faint pink.

He could almost hear her teasing voice in his head: Nice beard, Kojirou-sensei.

Still, embarrassment aside, he had to admit the plan was working. He had successfully gone unnoticed by Naomi, who was still enthusiastically eyeing the strawberry parfait.

That was his job today: monitor the two sisters during their "family bonding" date and make sure nothing got in the way. If anyone or anything suspicious popped up, he’d be there. Like a hidden support character in a slice-of-life manga.

He sat back, folded his arms, and watched with narrowed eyes. Despite the laugh, Sakura had taken this seriously. That was all that mattered.

Now, he just had to keep up the act... even if it meant enduring the occasional public shame of a really dumb beard.

________________________________________

Sakura bit the inside of her cheek the moment she spotted Kokoro. She had just turned her head to glance around the café, pretending to take in the ambiance like any curious passerby would, when her eyes locked onto him—sitting stiffly at a corner booth near the window, dressed in what could only be described as the world’s most obvious disguise.

A brown coat, blue pants, and a black beard that looked like it came from a discount party store. To anyone else, maybe Kokoro looked like an eccentric tourist. But to Sakura—who had been planning this elaborate sisterly date for weeks and knew full well who to expect—it was like spotting a neon sign with flashing lights that read: "This is definitely Kokoro."

She slapped a hand to her mouth, eyes watering from holding in a laugh. Her shoulders trembled slightly. If she dared to let even a giggle slip, Naomi, who was still deciding on her order, would immediately turn and start asking questions.

("Why are you laughing?" "Who are you looking at?" "Are you hiding something?")

None of which Sakura wanted to answer.

She sucked in a deep breath, turning away from Kokoro and directing her gaze at the glass display of parfaits in front of the counter. Her expression strained with the effort of suppressing laughter, but inside her head, she was howling.

Seriously, Kokoro? You could’ve just come wearing a simole hoodie or something. No one would’ve suspected a thing. But no—mustache and beard in Harajuku? Who even have a beard like that in this part of Tokyo? You’re more suspicious than normal!

Before she could spiral further into mocking thoughts, Naomi nudged her side. "Sakura?"

"Huh?" Sakura blinked and looked up. Naomi was pointing at one of the menus mounted on the wall above the counter. "Which one are you getting?" Naomi asked. "I’m still torn between the strawberry mochi parfait or the tiramisu special."

"Ah—sorry!" Sakura blinked, startled out of her thoughts. "I was just remembering how you made a total mess yesterday working on your project. Glue all over your hands, beads flying across the room, and somehow you even managed to get stickers stuck in your hair. It was a disaster."

As expected, Naomi’s light brown cheeks turned an immediate shade of red. She dropped her pointing hand from the menu and stuffed it into the front pocket of her hoodie.

"Don’t talk about that in here." Naomi muttered, flustered and mildly annoyed.

Sakura grinned devilishly. "What? I’m just reminiscing. It was kinda cute, actually."

Naomi groaned. "I said stop. Don’t talk about personal stuff in public."

"I make no promises," Sakura said with a playful wink.

Naomi sighed, her gaze shifting toward the growing line behind them. "We’re holding things up. Just order already."

"Okay, okay." Sakura stepped forward to the counter. "One matcha parfait with mochi, please."

Naomi followed behind. "Strawberry mochi parfait."

As they paid and moved to the pickup area, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sweet treats moved through the air, teasing their taste buds. Within minutes, a cheerful young waitress wearing a bright pink-and-white uniform emerged with a warm smile, carrying a tray laden with their orders. "Alright, ladies! Here’s your delicious parfaits! Enjoy!" she exclaimed, setting the colorful desserts down on the table.

The sisters found an empty table near the center of the café, right by a tall window where warm sunlight poured in, casting a golden glow over the vibrant syrups and glistening toppings of their parfaits.

Kokoro, seated alone with a mostly-finished parfait of his own, tried to look nonchalant while pretending to scroll through his phone. He had witnessed the entire exchange—Sakura’s struggle not to laugh, Naomi’s embarrassed expression, and their animated conversation.

Even from across the café, it was painfully obvious that Sakura had recognized him instantly.

Kokoro sighed, poking half-heartedly at his parfait. I knew the beard was a terrible idea. Should’ve just worn a cap and sunglasses like a normal person...

Still, he was committed to the mission. His job was to monitor this sisterly "date," make sure nothing weird happened, and step in if anything suspicious arose. No matter how humiliating it felt, he had to see it through.

At their table, the sisters had begun eating. Naomi was slowly warming up, listening to something Sakura said and nodding with a half-smile. Occasionally, Sakura would steal glances toward Kokoro’s direction. Her lips twitched upward every time, a silent struggle to contain her laughter.

Kokoro took another bite of his melting parfait and stared down at it like it held all the world’s answers.

Please let me get through this without completely losing my dignity, he thought.

From the other table, a quiet giggle escaped Sakura.