We were walking home together again.
It's become sort of routine—me carrying her bag because she's always forgetting her umbrella, her clutching a notebook like it's a talisman of protection. Every day, same rhythm. Like a slice-of-life anime that forgot it had a plot.
She walks a little behind me, like I might disappear if she gets too close. I half-expect her to vanish in a puff of cherry blossoms sometimes.
The sky was blushing orange, like a peach dipped in gold. Sakura petals were caught in the wind again, even though it wasn't even full bloom yet. Nature had a habit of trying to one-up her poetry notebook.
I was about to ask if her feet hurt—because, well, she walks like a baby deer on cobblestone—when she tugged at my sleeve.
"…Mizuki-kun," she said suddenly.
"Hm?"
"I-I saw a cat today."
"Oh yeah?"
She nodded, eyes lighting up like a kid announcing they saw Santa Claus. "It was sleeping on the rooftop… s-so high up… like a king."
"That's impressive. Or maybe it just wanted the warm can coffee aura."
She giggled, just a tiny bit. Then clutched her notebook tighter like the sound had escaped against her will.
Pause.
"U-Um… Mizuki-kun?"
"Yeah?"
"…You always… carry my bag…"
"I guess I do."
"…Does it… make me annoying?"
I blinked. Wha—Hold up. Reverse that.
"What? No, of course not. Why would it?"
She lowered her head, voice shrinking. "Mama said… I shouldn't rely on boys too much…"
"Is this about the umbrella again?"
"…Maybe…"
I sighed dramatically and handed the bag back to her.
She took it with both hands like it was radioactive.
"Okay," I said, "from now on, I'll only carry it if you forget your umbrella."
She looked up quickly. "B-But I always forget my umbrella—!"
I smirked. "Exactly."
"…T-That's not fair…"
I ruffled her head gently before I could stop myself. Her hair was soft and smelled like stationery paper and something faintly floral—probably her shampoo.
She froze, eyes wide, cheeks exploding in red like I'd just activated a secret scene.
"…Y-You touched my head…"
"…Yeah. Sorry. Too much?"
"…N-No… it was… j-just surprising…"
She looked like she wanted to dig a hole and write haiku in it for the rest of her life.
We stood there for a moment in silence.
"…Did your hair… always part that way?"
Huh? That's what she was looking at this whole time?
"I guess? My hair's not smart enough to move on its own."
"O-Oh… it's… um… nice…"
"…Thanks. Your hair looks the same too."
"Y-You noticed?!"
"…I meant that in a good way. It's consistent."
She clutched her notebook like she was about to use it as a shield. "…T-That's a relief…"
"uhm…"
"Tomorrow is… the weekend."
A pause.
I tilted my head. "Uh-huh…"
Yes. I am aware of how calendars work.
She took a breath. I saw her shoulders rise—tense as piano wire, delicate as her handwriting. She looked like she was about to defuse a bomb, not ask a question.
"D-Do you… want to go on a d-date?"
Time slowed.
Birds stopped mid-flight.
A nearby construction worker dropped a brick on his foot.
Somewhere, a cicada forgot how to scream.
I blinked. Did I hear that right?
"Eh?"
Her eyes went huge. Her mouth flapped like a fish.
"W-Wait! N-No! I mean—! If you're busy it's okay! Or if you hate me! Or if you're allergic to weekends!"
"I'm not allergic to weekends."
WHY DID I SAY THAT.
She stared at me, wide-eyed. Her lips pressed into a worried line, like she thought I'd just told her I was moving to Antarctica.
I needed to fix this. Fast. Think, Kaito, think. You've watched enough romcoms to know the next line!
"I mean… a date sounds… nice."
Nailed it?
Her eyes sparkled like she just unlocked an SSR card in a gacha game. She hugged her poetry notebook tightly against her chest like it just saved her from drowning.
"R-Really!?"
"Yeah. I mean—what do you want to do?"
She blinked. Froze. Then started tapping her cheek with one finger, murmuring to herself.
"A-Ahem… I meant… like… if you're not busy… and maybe you want to… go to a bookstore with me… and m-maybe the café with the sakura latte…"
"…So like a date for nerds?"
Her lips puffed out. "I-It's cultured!"
Cute.
"…Sure."
Her eyes widened. "R-Really!?"
"Yeah. Why not?"
She clutched her notebook to her chest so tightly I thought it might explode.
And that smile—holy hell, that smile.