What was it like to have your own mother sponsor your… supplies?
Kani Nayuta's emotional state cycled rapidly through the stages of shock.
First came pure, unadulterated surprise—her eyes widening like saucers. Then, a wave of confusion and puzzlement washed over her. Why would she…? How did she…? What does she think we're going to…? Finally, all those emotions crystallized into a single, scorching wave of embarrassment that threatened to melt her on the spot.
Her ten perfectly round, cute, and healthy-looking toes curled inwards inside her boots, a full-body cringe manifesting in her extremities. Her lips trembled slightly, and a torrent of denials and explanations surged to the tip of her tongue. It's not like that! We're just going on a date! A normal date! Maybe just some kissing! Probably!
But as she met her mother's calm, knowing, and utterly unshakeable gaze, the fight drained out of her. The futility of it all became glaringly obvious.
Forget it! she screamed internally.
She took a deep, steadying breath.
It's not something shameful, she reasoned with herself, trying to adopt a more mature perspective. I'm a young woman already in the full swing of puberty. Having a boyfriend and… exploring those feelings… is perfectly normal!
It was a logical, modern defense. If she acted embarrassed, she'd look like a child. If she acted mature about it, she could reclaim some dignity.
Thus, Kani Nayuta forced her expression into what she hoped was a gracious, unflappable facade. She bent down, picked up the small paper bag containing the three boxes, and tucked it securely into her overnight tote with deliberate calmness.
"Huh?"
This nonchalant acceptance, however, was the unexpected move. It was Honda's turn to be surprised. She blinked, looking at her daughter with astonishment and a flicker of… was that disappointment?
"She actually accepted them directly… Kazuko, aren't you going to deny it at all? Not even a little bit of 'Kaa-san, what are you thinking?!'" Honda prodded, a teasing lilt returning to her voice.
"What is there to deny?" Nayuta replied, her voice carefully level as she straightened up. She even managed a small, sophisticated shrug. "Besides, even if I did put on a whole performance, would Mom believe a single word of it?"
The eye-roll she delivered was full of weary, teenage resignation. In giving up the pretense, a strange thing happened: the suffocating awkwardness in her chest eased considerably. It was freeing, in a terrifying way.
"Tsk—!"
Honda clicked her tongue softly, her expression shifting to one of mild, theatrical displeasure. The source seemed to be the denied opportunity—she couldn't enjoy the classic spectacle of her daughter turning into a flustered, stammering tomato trying to explain the unexplainable. The fun had been curtailed.
She smoothly changed tactics and the subject. "So, Kazuko's boyfriend… is he that boy you met online? The one you told Papa and me about? The creator?"
"Mm." Nayuta offered a simple, affirmative hum, her cheeks still warm. She gestured toward the stairs, eager for an exit. "Mom, I'm going to finish packing and then head out. We… we agreed to meet at Oshiage Station in Sumida District at 11:30."
Here, she played a clever little trick, citing a time a full half-hour earlier than the actual plan. It was her buffer, her excuse to slip out of any further maternal interrogation or, worse, escalation.
Honda, hearing the specific time, fell for the ruse. She instinctively glanced at the elegant clock on the wall. "11:30? Then you'd better hurry, sweetie! It's almost eleven now. You mustn't keep him waiting; being late is very impolite."
The Japanese cultural emphasis on punctuality was a reliable card for any parent to play. But then, Honda's face lit up with a new, decisive idea. "You know what, forget the train. At this hour, you might hit delays. I'll drive you there myself!"
She stood up from the sofa with renewed purpose, snatching the car keys from the coffee table. She looked, for all the world, like a personal chauffeur and security detail for her daughter's inaugural date.
Kani Nayuta froze, her cool composure cracking.
"E-eh?! No, no, that's really not necessary!" she waved her hands in frantic protest. "That's way too much trouble for you, Kaa-san! I'm perfectly capable of taking the train by myself!"
"It's no trouble at all," Honda insisted, her smile warm but unwavering. "Mom has nothing pressing to do today. And honestly… I really do want to meet Kazuko's little boyfriend."
Her tone softened into genuine gratitude. "We have to thank him, don't we? Thanks to him, our Kazuko is going to school properly and smiling so much more. A proper thank you is in order!"
Nayuta's eyes narrowed. She saw right through it. "Kaa-san just wants to meet him to put him through the parental inquisition! What kind of parent personally chauffeurs their daughter to a date? It's so embarrassing! I refuse!"
With that final, flustered complaint, she turned on her heel and marched upstairs, putting a definitive end to the conversation.
Honda watched her daughter's retreating back, the determined click of her boots on the stairs fading away. She sat back down slowly, her eyes drifting to the daytime drama on TV without really seeing it. After a moment of quiet, a soft, complex sigh escaped her lips.
"My little girl… she's really grown up, hasn't she?"
There was a wistful pang in her chest. It felt like just yesterday the girl was clinging to her leg, dependent on her for everything. Now she was packing secret lingerie and deftly deflecting her mother's attempts to meet her beau. The passage of time was both a wonder and a gentle ache.
***
"Utaha, I'm heading out now. Call me if anything comes up."
Kasumigaoka Touji slung a sleek black single-shoulder bag over his shoulder, offering the farewell to Kasumigaoka Utaha, who was lounging on the sofa with a sketchbook. He then stepped out into the bright midday sun.
He had opted for a clean, minimalist look: a simple white T-shirt as a base layer, topped with an unbuttoned dark blue Oxford shirt. It was paired with off-white chino-style casual pants and pristine white sneakers. The effect was exactly what he aimed for—fresh, clean, approachably handsome, with a touch of effortless style. It was a look that said he'd put in thought without trying too hard.
As he walked towards the station, a flicker of pleasant curiosity crossed his mind. I wonder what Kani-sensei will be wearing today.
The thought brought a slight, anticipatory smile to his face.
Right on cue, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to see a message from the very subject of his thoughts.
[Kani Nayuta]: "I'm on my way~. (´▽`)"
[Touji.]: "That fast? I just left too. You don't have to rush; take your time."
If they'd both departed simultaneously, Nayuta, coming from Meguro Ward, would likely arrive at their Sumida District meeting point much earlier than him. His own location was closer to the northern edges of the city, making for a slightly longer commute.
[Kani Nayuta]: "It's fine, I've already left. I'll wait for Winter-sensei there."
Her determination was clear. Touji chuckled softly to himself.
[Touji.]: "Alright then. I'll be there as fast as the train gods allow."
A moment later, another message popped up.
[Kani Nayuta]: "Winter-sensei, what would you like for lunch? I can go queue up somewhere nearby, so we can eat as soon as you arrive!"
She was thinking ahead, trying to be helpful and efficient. Touji's smile widened. He'd already taken care of it.
[Touji.]: "No need to queue. I've already made a reservation."
[Kani Nayuta]: "Oh? Which place? (•̀ω•́)✧"
[Touji.]: "A place called 'Yume Miya,' near Oshiage Station. They specialize in premium charcoal-grilled yakiniku, have a famous Kyushu-style ramen, and supposedly amazing Japanese desserts. You can head over there first if you like; I've sent you the reservation details."
He tapped a few times, forwarding the confirmation email.
[Kani Nayuta]: "Roger that! Okay~. I'll see you there, sensei! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧"
With that, the digital conversation paused, leaving Touji to his journey. He soon arrived at Wako City Station, descending into the cool, tiled underworld of the platform. With a few minutes to wait for his train, he leaned against a pillar and pulled out his phone out of boredom, opening YouTube. He realized he hadn't checked the platform since disappearing into Utaha-senpai's room the previous night.
He first navigated to the channel for 'Kasumi Utako.' The numbers were staggering. The view count for their duet was already kissing a million, and the 'like' ratio was overwhelmingly positive. In under 24 hours, it was undeniably a viral hit.
His thumb scrolled down to the comment section, a vast sea of varied reactions. Some were profound appreciations of the music and the siblings' chemistry. Others were… less serious. He snorted with laughter at one particular comment that had garnered thousands of likes:
'Winter-sensei, please pay my medical bills!
After listening to your song last night, I was so moved I impulsively confessed to my onee-san. She told our otou-san.
Otou-san broke my leg with his golf club. I'm typing this from the hospital. This is all your fault.'
Beneath it, a thread of hysterical replies unfolded:
"LMAO! Did you get the sister? Worth it?"
"Pics of leg or it didn't happen!"
"The real love metronome was the golf club swinging towards your shin."
"This is the funniest thing I've read all week. Get well soon, you magnificent idiot."
Touji shook his head, grinning. Idiot netizens truly were a universal constant, transcending all borders. Japan had no shortage of them.
He kept scrolling. The most upvoted comments, besides the comedic ones, were clusters of admiration for the sibling duo's talent and synergy. Right below them, however, was the perennial, burning question, asked in a hundred different ways: "Are they actually, biologically, brother and sister?"
Touji felt it was time to make a canonical appearance. He thought for a moment, his mind linking back to his other life's work. He typed a reply under the most popular "blood relation" query:
'The nature of our relationship is basically just like what's written in "Love Metronome."'
It was a perfect, mischievous, and promotional answer—vague enough to fuel speculation, direct enough to satisfy curiosity, and best of all, it drove traffic to his light novel. Maximizing cross-promotional benefits was key.
The reply instantly lit up. It seemed fans and curious viewers were lurking in real-time. Within seconds, his comment was buried under a tidal wave of replies.
"WAIT, WINTER-SENSEI HIMSELF?!"
"So you're SAYING there's a CHANCE?!"
"I KNEW IT! The chemistry was too real!"
"Everyone, to the novel! The answers are there!"
"Sensei, you tease!"
He spent a couple of minutes engaging, picking a few lucky fans to 'like' their replies, fostering that sense of community. Just as he was about to dive deeper into the commentary, the familiar rumble of his approaching train echoed through the tunnel.
Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Kasumigaoka Touji stepped forward as the train doors slid open with a pneumatic hiss, ready to be carried toward his date, the lingering smile from his online interactions still playing on his lips.