CHAPTER 51: CHAPTER 51

As the two sisters enjoyed their parfaits near the café’s sunlit window, Kokoro maintained his silent vigil. With his disguise still intact—the infamously fake beard and mustache combo—he sat at his table pretending to scroll through his phone, casting discreet glances at Naomi and Sakura. Their conversation looked casual enough. Naomi was now fully smiling, even letting out a few laughs. Good, no red flags. Mission: Sister Date Surveillance was running smoothly.

Kokoro, however, had finished his parfait some time ago. The cold sweetness no longer masked the creeping boredom setting into his bones. His back ached slightly from sitting stiffly for too long, and he was beginning to wonder if the employees would come over and gently hint that it was time to give up the table. The shop had gotten noticeably busier over the past ten minutes. A small line was forming near the counter, and customers were scanning the café for open seating.

Just as Kokoro began to prepare a mental excuse—"I was just about to order another parfait"—he felt a small tug on his brown coat sleeve.

He blinked.

What? he thought, slowly turning his head to the side. Is it one of the employees?

But instead of a uniformed adult, Kokoro was greeted by a small boy, no older than nine. The boy had a mop of jet-black hair, sharp blue eyes that gleamed with curiosity, and wore a white T-shirt printed with some colorful cartoon mascot, denim shorts, and a clean pair of Nike sneakers. He stood beside Kokoro’s table, peering up at him with wide-eyed wonder.

"...Uh," Kokoro began, sitting up straighter. "Can I help you?"

The boy didn’t hesitate. "Mister, are you a secret agent?"

Kokoro blinked twice.

"I mean," the boy continued, leaning in and pointing a tiny finger toward Kokoro’s chin, "you’ve got a beard and a mustache, but they look fake. Are you undercover? Like in one of those spy shows? Are you tracking a criminal in this store or something?"

He said all of this in one breath, eyes practically sparkling with excitement.

Kokoro stared at him in stunned silence. What... he thought. This kid really thinks I’m some kind of spy?

Before Kokoro could even come up with a response, the boy scrunched his face thoughtfully and added, "But if you’re a spy, why are you dressed so obviously? Wouldn’t a real agent try to blend in? You stick out way too much, mister. You’re suspicious as heck."

Kokoro nearly choked on his own spit.

The sheer honesty, the brutal curiosity—it hit him like a truck.

"I—uh..." he stammered.

Before Kokoro could even think of a plausible excuse, a female voice called from nearby.

"Taro! There you are!"

The boy turned. "Mama?"

A woman hurried over, weaving through the café crowd. She looked to be in her early thirties, with her shoulder-length hair tied into a low ponytail and a handbag slung across one shoulder. She was clearly out of breath from looking for her son.

She reached out and gently grabbed the boy’s hand. "You shouldn’t run off like that!" she scolded, kneeling slightly to his level.

"But Mama, this guy looks like a spy!" Taro pointed shamelessly at Kokoro.

The mother looked up, ready to apologize—only for her gaze to land on Kokoro’s face.

Her eyes locked on the thick, obviously fake black beard and mustache. Her mouth opened as if to greet him politely, but she visibly faltered.

"Ah... uh... I-I’m sorry, m-mister..." she stuttered, the word catching awkwardly in her throat.

Kokoro felt a drop of cold sweat roll down the back of his neck. His hand reflexively went to adjust his fake beard as he awkwardly turned slightly away.

"It’s fine," he said, forcing a smile. "Really. Don’t worry about it."

The mother gave a nervous bow, thanked him for understanding, and quickly guided Taro to a nearby empty table.

Kokoro sighed in relief, slumping back slightly in his seat.

Even a kid can tell how dumb this disguise is... Kokoro slouched a little in his seat. I’ve officially hit rock bottom. Maybe I should really just take this thing off, he thought, touching his fake beard with mild disgust.

But unbeknownst to him, someone else had witnessed the entire interaction.

From across the café, Sakura was hiding her face behind her parfait cup, her body trembling slightly—not from nerves, but from barely suppressed laughter. She had seen everything: the boy pointing, the mother’s awkward stammer, and Kokoro’s mortified expression.

Naomi, meanwhile, was blissfully unaware. She was too focused on scooping the perfect bite of mochi and whipped cream onto her spoon.

Sakura sipped her water to keep from bursting out laughing. Seriously, Kokoro, what are you doing... That disguise is doing more harm than good.

But Sakura wasn’t the only one observing Kokoro.

From another table, seated by the edge of the café where the sunlight dimmed just slightly, someone else watched with silent amusement.

It was a boy—or at least, that’s what everyone else would think. With short black hair, jet-black eyes, and strikingly feminine features, they looked androgynous, delicate even. The "boy" wore a loose, baggy blue hoodie and matching jeans, with clean white sneakers and a tray holding a strawberry parfait drowning in cream and honey.

This "boy" was none other than Mika—cleverly disguised and deeply entertained.

She rested her cheek on one hand and smiled, eyes glimmering with mischief as she watched Kokoro flounder.

Kokoro, you’re just too cute for your own good, she thought.

She had followed him out of curiosity—maybe jealousy too—but seeing him like this, doing his best to help Sakura, wearing a fake beard and nearly getting exposed by a child... it filled her chest with strange warmth.

She dipped her spoon into her parfait, never taking her eyes off her boyfriend, and let out a soft giggle.

Kokoro really is something else...

The café buzzed on with life—chatter, clinking glasses, laughter, and clumsy footsteps. But in the center of it all, three separate threads of attention were wrapped around one oblivious boy in a bad disguise, all of them wondering what on earth he was thinking... and secretly enjoying the spectacle.

Kokoro, for his part, still hadn’t realized Mika was watching.

And that was just how she liked it.

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After scraping the bottom of their parfait cups and sipping the last of their drinks, the two sisters leaned back in their chairs, content. A few minutes passed as they relaxed, allowing time for the sweetness to settle in their stomachs. The café’s soft music and the gentle warmth of sunlight streaming through the window gave the moment a peaceful, quiet intimacy.

Naomi eventually broke the silence, stretching her arms casually above her head. "So... where to next?" she asked with a light yawn. "I wouldn’t mind heading home, honestly. Delicious food like that is enough of a treat for one day."

Sakura expected that kind of response. Her sister was always easygoing—almost too easygoing. It was something that had frustrated a few of Naomi’s past girlfriends, who found her relaxed demeanor frustrating or even unmotivated. But to Sakura, that calmness was one of Naomi’s charms. Still, today wasn’t just any normal outing. This was supposed to be a "date"—one that would lead to a confession.

With a smile, Sakura pulled out her phone from the pocket of her blue skirt. She glanced at the list of planned locations she had prepped in advance. It was now or never.

"Well," she said casually, eyes still on the glowing screen, "there’s a new aquarium that’s been going viral lately. You know, the one with those glowing jellyfish tunnels? I heard it’s really cool."

Naomi raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Aquarium, huh? That sounds... peaceful." She paused, glancing around the café. "We probably should get going. I think some people are eyeing our table."

Sakura looked up and nodded. "Yeah, let’s move."

The sisters stood, gathering their bags and carefully pushing in their chairs. Naomi took one last sip of her water before tossing it into the nearby bin. They gave a polite nod to the staff behind the counter before stepping out into the mid-morning sun.

Kokoro, who had been trailing the entire time, saw them begin to move. With a deep breath, he rose from his seat. But as he pushed himself up from the chair, a sudden numbness shot through both his legs.

"Ack—" he muttered under his breath, wobbling in place. Of course my legs would fall asleep now...

He pressed his palm against the table to steady himself, grimacing slightly as pins and needles spiked through his calves. Still, with cautious steps and a stiff gait, he forced himself into motion, following at a distance with what little grace he could muster.

Across the café, Mika—still disguised as the boyish stranger in the oversized hoodie—watched with a quiet chuckle. She had noticed Kokoro’s clumsy struggle and resisted the urge to walk over and scold him for sitting too long. Instead, she quietly stood as well, abandoning her half-eaten parfait. It didn’t really matter to her anyway. She hadn’t come here for the dessert.

Outside, the morning was already warming up, the streets of Harajuku alive with weekend chatter, couples walking hand in hand, and children dragging their parents toward shops. Mika moved silently a few steps behind Kokoro, careful to blend in. She smiled faintly under the shadow of her hoodie.

So far, so good, she thought. But I wonder how long you’ll last with those jelly legs, my dear Kokoro.