Yuji looked at her. Her hair messy. Her cheeks a little red. The pillow mark on the side of her face. Beautiful. In the most normal and devastating way possible.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked.
Aiko stretched, then collapsed onto him again.
"Yes. Despite your heart beating like a drum."
"Oh, sorry. Side effect of having you on top of me."
She looked him up and down.
"Do you always look so adorable when you wake up?"
"Only with you."
Silence. But it was a silence that wasn't empty. One of those silences where you can hear your breathing and your hands moving slowly. Your body still saying: stay a little, just a little, before the world starts again.
Then Aiko sighed. She slowly stood up.
"I have to go to class. And if I show up looking like this, the Japanese teacher will send me to the infirmary."
Yuji also stood up, his hair was disheveled and he was half naked.
"Can I at least walk you to the gate?"
"No. If you walk with me, then I want to kiss you. And if I kiss you, then I don't want to go at all. And if I don't go, she'll fail me. And if she fails me... I'll become a waitress for life."
"Eh... a very good waitress. And sexy, too..."
Aiko turned toward him, already wearing his sweatshirt and one sock in the air.
"Itadori, stop being so sweet. I'm still mad at you, at least 10%."
Yuji approached her.
"Okay. But can I get that 10% back with a message every ten minutes until you block me?"
"Try it. Let's see how long I can handle it before I reply with a cute insult."
They kissed at the door. A brief kiss, but true. She left, turning back only at the last moment.
"Yuji?"
"Mh?"
"Write to me. Even if it's just to tell me you didn't do your hair properly."
"Always."
And then she disappeared into the hallway. Yuji remained there, in his underwear and looking like a happy idiot.
He collapsed onto the bed, sighing into the pillow.
"I'm fucking crazy about her," he thought.
***
The first serious ray of sunshine hit her full in the face as soon as she crossed the gates of the art institute. Aiko pulled up the collar of her sweatshirt and curled up inside with coffee in her stomach, still half asleep, her heavy backpack slung over one shoulder.
She'd slept very little. Or rather, she'd slept well, but too little. Yuji's bed, his smell, his breath against her neck... it all lingered on her like a persistent scent. Her body was tired, but her mind was racing.
The lessons began with modern Japanese literature, then history. Everything was too slow for her heartbeat.
At 9:17, she received the first message.
Yuji: I don't know if I want to eat breakfast or go back to sleep. I choose: thinking of you.
Aiko smiled as she opened her pencil case.
Aiko: At least think of me while you eat, so you stay nourished.
Yuji: Nourished with strong feelings.
Aiko: Please. Don't start.
Yuji: Too late. I'm already in a poetic state. See what you're doing to me?
She closed her phone with a smile that she tried to hide behind her book. But the girl next to her nudged her.
"You're not even this happy when you talk about professor Dazai."
"Yuji," Aiko replied, as if that name alone explained everything.
During her break, sitting on the wall in front of the library with a bottle of water and a quick onigiri, she read the new message.
Yuji: I don't want to interrupt, but... how are you? Really.
Aiko: Better than I thought. More tired, less angry. But happy.
Yuji: You're my favorite thing.
Aiko: That was sweet. Save it. You won't be this good again.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the school, Yuji was in the courtyard with Megumi. They had just finished a morning training session and Yuji was checking his phone every three minutes, with the same anxiety of someone waiting for the results of a test.
"You've gone soft," Megumi commented, drying her neck with a towel. "Before you focused on training, now you spend all your time on your phone. "
"I still have muscles. Just more love in my bones."
"Itadori poems. Things no one wanted," Nobara replied.
Yuji chuckled, but then became serious again as he typed another message.
Yuji: Can I pick you up after class? Just to see you for five minutes.
Aiko took a moment to reply.
Aiko: If you bring a bottle of cold water, I'll take it. 🙂
Yuji: Water and a kiss guaranteed.
Aiko: Only if you're sweaty. I like ruining your hair.
Yuji laughed to himself. Megumi looked at him as if wondering if it's too late to change teams.
Yuji slipped his phone into his pocket and looked at the sky. And for the first time in days, he felt good. Light. Clean.
She was coming back to him. One message at a time.
***
That evening, the place was packed. One of those nights when steam clung to the windows, obscuring the view of the street and the warm smell of broth mingled with the aroma of fresh fish, some laughter and the rhythmic clatter of chopsticks against bowls. The buzz of customers filled every corner, a lively but reassuring background.
Aiko moved between the tables with the confidence of someone who knew every inch of that floor. Her step was light, her high ponytail swinging behind her as she changed direction, a pen tucked in her hair and another stuck in her ear. The smile she reserved for each customer was precisely calibrated: kind but not intrusive, warm but never forced. A gentle blade who always knew how to bridge the gap.
Behind the counter, his father was slicing tuna with slow, precise, almost ceremonial movements. The knife blade gleamed under the warm light, sliding across the meat with a soft sound. He looked up for just a moment, meeting Aiko's gaze and a half-smile appeared on his face before he returned to his work.
"That table eight asked for your special broth. Did you put anything illegal in it?"
"Just my charm, Dad."
"Well. Double the portion, then. But make sure you don't make them all fall in love, or only Kazuma will be working."
From the back of the kitchen, her mother emerged with two full trays. "Aiko, check to see if Mrs. Yamada still wants hot tea. But smile at her with your eyes, not just your mouth. You're a bit lost tonight."
Aiko nodded, a tired but sincere smile hinting at something. "I know, I know. I'm coming to my senses."
"That means that the boy wrote," her father murmured, without looking up from the cutting board.
"Dad!"
He simply whistled, sliding the tuna slices onto his plate.
Kazuma was the first to notice him. A boy sitting alone at a corner table, wearing an impeccable white shirt, an expensive watch and that look that stares too much. Smiling, polite but with an uncomfortable glint in his eyes.
"Table five asks for you," Kazuma said, handing her the pad. "And he called me 'champion' with a nod of his chin. So... I'll pass."
Aiko nodded and joined him with her usual friendly tone. "Good evening, may I recommend something hot? Or would you prefer something spicier?"
He looked up from the menu: black hair pulled back in a half-knot, his dark eyes bright and appraising in a split second. He wasn't sitting down: he was taking up space. Extremely broad shoulders that made the chair seem small, forearms marked by training, the shirt open over a dark tank top, more for the gym than for walking. When he spoke, his voice was low and round, with ring-like confidence. On the phone, resting next to his glass, dangled an idol's keychain—an incongruous detail that, on him, made sense.
"I trust your taste. A woman with a voice like yours can't have bad intentions."
Aiko smiled slightly, professionally. "We have excellent intentions in the kitchen. Especially if you're hungry."
"I'm hungry for everything" he replied, a smile that slid over her like an unsolicited hand.
She wrote down the order without changing her expression.
"I'll be right back with the tea."
When she returned, with the steaming cup on a saucer, he tilted his chin slightly.
"This is my second time here. You weren't here last night."
"Off duty" she replied, calmly putting her cup down.
"Too bad. The ramen was good, but something was missing. Now I know what it was."
Aiko kept her smile. "The important thing is that the broth was hot."
He looked at her again. "A beautiful face and a sharp mind. All you needed was an apron."
"Or maybe this is enough" she said, pointing to the cup, her expression light but sharp.
Then she gave a small nod and walked away, her stride elegant and determined.
Only when he was far enough away did her shoulders relax slightly. His tone had been polite. His gestures measured. But there was something in the boy's voice—in the slowness of certain glances—that made her uneasy. It wasn't fear. It was crystal-clear annoyance.
Meanwhile, in the corner near the kitchen, Yuji was sitting with Megumi and Nobara. He had just put down his chopsticks but his fingers wouldn't relax. His knuckles were white, his tendons tense.
The ramen was there, almost untouched. The broth was cooling, but he wasn't.
His eyes were fixed on Aiko.
And on that guy, too.
About the way that boy looked at her for too long, too casually, as if he were choosing a good, expensive wine.
And Aiko… Aiko laughed. Or rather, she smiled. The work smile. The kind, measured one that Yuji knew well. But seeing it directed at that guy made him sick.
Megumi looked up from his ramen with the calm of a silent observer.
"You're holding your chopsticks. Do you want to break them or incinerate them?"
Yuji didn't answer right away. He was still watching the boy, who barely bowed his chin as Aiko handed him the plate. Too slow. Too close.
"Both" he said finally, without looking away.
Nobara snorted, sipping her tea with an annoyed expression.
"Then you complain when they say you're jealous."
"I'm not jealous."
Silence. Then Yuji gave a tired half-smile. "Okay. I am. But I have good reasons."
Aiko walked past their table. She'd seen everything. And she knew it. She just gave him a look, brief but sharp. It wasn't a reproach, but it wasn't an apology either. It was a fine line between "calm down" and "I know it stings."
Later, the shift was over. The customers had left one by one, leaving the restaurant immersed in a warm silence, filled with the smell of broth and frying, the kind that clings to your clothes all the way home.
Aiko slowly removed her apron, folding it in her hands. Exhaustion weighed on her shoulders, but underneath, another subtle tension was growing.
She heard him before she saw him. Confident footsteps, the rustle of his jacket. Yuji joined her in the kitchen, pausing in the doorway. He stood there, as if deciding whether to take that next step.
"That guy..."
"Handled," she said, without turning, running a towel through her hands. Her voice was flat. Not cold, but exhausted.
"He wasn't the first. And he certainly won't be the last," she added.
Yuji approached, leaning against the wall, a few feet away from her.
"It still sucks. He spoke too casually."
She turned. Slowly. She looked at him. And there, finally, she saw it: that nervousness that was more concern than anger. She knew it.
"Yuji," she said softly. "You don't have to defend me from everything."
"But I want to do it anyway."
Her tone wasn't harsh. Just truthful. More than a statement, it was a declaration.
Aiko stopped. She put down the cloth. She approached him. One step, then another.
"Do you trust me?"
"With everything I have."
She inhaled slowly. Her eyes were shining, but not from crying. From exhaustion. From constant attention.
"Then let me handle certain things. I'll call you if I have to. I'll yell you if I have to. But I don't want you to explode over every wrong word said by someone who doesn't even know my name."
Yuji lowered his gaze for a second. His hands in his pockets, his shoulders broad but slumped.
"You're right. But—"
She interrupted him, without harshness.
"But you're a lovable goof."
Then, more quietly, as if admitting something too big:
"And I know it's not because you don't trust me. It's because you care too much."
Yuji looked at her. His eyes were dark brown and tired, but clear.
"I have a stupid heart, Aiko. As soon as someone touches you with the wrong look, it goes away on its own."
She half-smiled. Then, without another word, she approached and placed a hand on his cheek.
"Then hold on to it, stupid heart. But remember, I can defend myself too."
Yuji took her wrist and kissed her palm.
"I know. But let me be there."
She smiled.
While Aiko and Yuji were still talking in the kitchen, with that subtle tension between "everything's fine" and "it's pissing me off," the swinging door opened with a dramatic shove.
Kazuma poked his head out, holding a large bowl of popcorn. Literally.
"So, are we arguing? Can I stay? I promise to be quiet for at least... fifteen seconds."
Yuji turned slowly toward him. He didn't say anything. But the way he looked at him was enough to make the air vibrate. Like, 'This isn't the time.'"
Aiko laughed instead. Not a forced laugh, but a real one. The kind that escapes unintentionally, tired but light.
"You're unbearable" Yuji told him.
"And hungry. But silently, eh?" Kazuma raised his bowl. "Observation popcorn, neutral, unsalted. No judgment."
Yuji clenched his jaw.
Aiko tried to play it down: "Come on, don't make that face. Kazuma is like that. He's like... an annoying mascot."
"Mascot my ass" Yuji snapped.
Aiko hit him with a rolled-up dishtowel. "Shhh!"
Yuji kept staring at him. Not so much because of the jokes, but because she was laughing. Laughing with Kazuma, laughing in that relaxed, complicit way. And in that moment, no matter how much he trusted her, no matter how much he knew Aiko was his — his heart gave a small, petty, all-too-human jolt.
Kazuma noticed.
"Oh. Did I go too far?"
He took two steps back dramatically. "I take it all back. I'm just a humble worker who happened to be passing by."
Aiko pushed him out with a hand on her chest, still smiling.
"Out, before I become a collateral victim."
As soon as the door closed, her smile faded slightly.
Yuji was still looking at her.
"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmured, as he put his arm around her back and pulled her close.
She looked down, a little shocked. A little guilty.
"Do you want to know the truth?" Yuji added. "More than that guy at the table, more than the backhanded jokes, it's when you laugh with others that drives me crazy."
Aiko looked at him. "But you don't want me to be serious all the time, do you?"
"No. I just want to be the one who makes you laugh the most."
And for a second, Aiko didn't know what to say either.