It was just past noon. Nozomi was sprawled lazily across the common room sofa, scrolling aimlessly on his phone and wondering what to eat. Cup ramen? Too plain. Fried rice? Too much work. He sighed dramatically.

Suddenly, the door burst open with a theatrical flair. "Nozomi! Go on a date with me!"

The bold declaration echoed through Sakurasou like the final line of a shoujo drama.

Nozomi blinked. "...Come again?"

Standing there with her usual elegance—blonde hair gleaming like sunlight, blue eyes glinting with mischief—was none other than Rita Ainsworth, the very picture of a foreign beauty with a penchant for chaos.

"Don't play dumb! You heard me. A date! Let's go!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Miss Rita."

"I'm not being ridiculous," she said with a fake pout, stepping forward with deliberate grace. She reached for his arm and pressed herself against him. Her fragrance, soft and floral, drifted into his nose.

Nozomi nearly short-circuited.

"Come on, a dazzling beauty like me asks you out, and you're actually hesitating? Most guys would be begging on their knees."

"I'm flattered," Nozomi muttered, trying his best to look unaffected as he avoided glancing at the soft pressure against his arm. "But I doubt I'm so charming that you'd genuinely want to date me. Isn't this... suspicious?"

Rita clung even tighter and gave him the most pitiful puppy-dog eyes she could muster. Her voice dipped just enough to sound tragic.

"Are you really going to reject a poor, lonely girl who crossed continents for friendship? You wound me, Nozomi. Just think of it as... keeping me company."

His eyes momentarily flicked to the... territory pressing against his arm. He cleared his throat.

"Not... impossible."

"YES! Let's go then!"

Before he could change his mind, she dragged him out the door, practically skipping. Nozomi resigned himself to his fate, sighing as he let her cling to him. As they walked, he slowly wrapped his hand around her waist.

Rita's entire body tensed like a statue.

Nozomi gave her a devilish grin. "Well, since this is a date, as your semi-official boyfriend, isn't this kind of closeness allowed?"

"...Not too much," she said through gritted teeth, maintaining her forced smile.

Inside, she was screaming.

Pervert! Scumbag! Smooth-talking playboy!

She raged internally, completely forgetting it was she who had initiated all this with sparkles and teasing. Her plan had worked too well.

Their destination turned out to be an elegant art gallery, the kind with polished floors and people who whispered instead of talked.

Nozomi blinked. "A painting exhibit?"

Rita nodded and pulled him toward a particular piece that glowed under a soft spotlight. It was a breathtaking painting filled with swirling stars and luminous textures, a cosmic dreamscape that pulled the eyes in and didn't let go.

"This is what I wanted to show you," she said softly.

"This was Mashiro's final painting before she left England. Just look at it... how can someone like her waste this kind of brilliance drawing manga panels?"

Rita's eyes were lit with a quiet intensity.

Nozomi studied the painting. He didn't understand art on a technical level, but even he could tell that this piece wasn't just good—it was transcendent.

He answered without hesitation.

"Yeah... Mashiro's talent is undeniable. This is incredible. I get what you mean. But... I still think she shouldn't go back. I don't want her to leave Sakurasou."

Rita turned on him with fire in her eyes.

"You're being selfish! Just because you're happy having her around, you're fine with her throwing away her gift? If she gives up on real art, she'll regret it forever! And the person who ruined her potential will be you!"

Her voice quivered with emotion.

But Nozomi didn't flinch.

"Rita... have you even read Mashiro's manga properly? She's already debuted. Her work is out there now. Published."

Rita stiffened.

She hadn't. Deep down, she hadn't believed Mashiro could actually succeed.

"See? You only see her talent as a painter. But Mashiro's grown. She used to only care about painting, but now... she wants more. She wants to be a manga artist. She wants to stay in Sakurasou. And she wants to stay your friend."

"You keep talking about her talent, but you never once asked what she wants. Have you ever stopped to think... maybe what Mashiro really needs isn't a canvas, but Rita by her side?"

Rita bit her lip and lowered her gaze, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

"Maybe you're right... but no one can stay by Mashiro's side forever."

Her words were filled with a fragile loneliness, like petals falling from a sakura tree in the wind.

"I've been painting ever since I was a child. And then Mashiro arrived... her talent was so overwhelming. It made everything I created feel insignificant. So what's wrong with me giving up?"

She clenched her fists as memories washed over her.

"Mashiro always had only painting in her heart. I never knew if she remembered me at all. Before I came here, I kept wondering... wondering if I'd ever become a part of her world, or if I was just a shadow on the edge of her canvas."

Nozomi looked at her, eyes soft with understanding, and opened his arms, pulling her into a gentle embrace. His tone was calm, but firm.

"Then why not ask her? Rita, if it's you, I know Mashiro would answer you sincerely."

He pulled back slightly and looked her in the eye.

"When Mashiro came here, her world revolved around only two things… one was manga, and the other… was you."

Rita's eyes widened.

"That's right. In her world of black-and-white pages and vibrant dreams, there was always you—Rita, the one who's been with her since the beginning."

"But you didn't walk with her. You held back, and now you doubt whether you still have a place beside her."

Rita trembled at those words. They pierced straight into her heart, like a truth she had buried deep down.

She cared about Mashiro—deeply. She had always wanted to be with her, even if sometimes jealousy clouded her heart. It wasn't just admiration, it was a longing to keep up, to not be left behind.

Even with painting…

She wasn't just jealous of Mashiro's brilliance, she was afraid—afraid that her own light would never be enough to stand beside hers.

...…

As whispers stirred from the people around them, Rita's face burned crimson. She pushed Nozomi gently, flustered.

"M-Mr. Nozomi, how long do you plan on hugging me?!"

Nozomi grinned with a devil-may-care attitude.

"Didn't you invite me on this date? As your date, I plan to hold you the entire time."

"Hmph. Pervert."

Rita pouted, but then, almost reluctantly, wrapped her arms around his waist.

"You might be a shameless scumbag, but... thank you. I'll talk to Mashiro properly. And I want to ask her, directly, if there's still a place for me in her heart."

Nozomi blinked in surprise.

"Wait, Rita... do you like girls?"

Rita's face went bright red.

"Go fall in a hole! I like Mashiro as a friend! My orientation is perfectly normal!"

"Got it, got it. So… where to next? Heading back?"

"No way! I said it's a date, and I meant it. We're going to enjoy this day to the fullest!"

Nozomi chuckled and offered his hand. Rita took it, cheeks still faintly pink.

"Then let's hit the amusement park. I recommend the carousel—it has a classic charm."

…

Moments later, Rita sat atop a pastel-colored wooden horse, looking like a noble lady forced into a child's game. Her cheeks were burning again.

She shot Nozomi a glare.

"Now I get it. This is why you suggested the merry-go-round. You're totally a perv, Mr. Nozomi!"

Nozomi let out an awkward laugh and gently wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Now, now, this is all part of the date experience. Besides, how could I resist when Miss Rita's charm is this overwhelming?"

"Hmph. As if I'll fall for that. And don't get too handsy!"

She grumbled, but didn't push him away. Nozomi's touch, while cheeky, wasn't overbearing. It was… warm.

Still, she rolled her eyes.

How am I supposed to get used to this?

That idiot. That dangerous idiot.

And yet, even as she mentally cursed him, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

This guy… he's seriously trouble.