The morning sunlight slipped past the curtains, poking Haruki awake. He stretched, yawned, and then jolted upright.
"Crap—I'm late!"
He jumped out of bed, throwing on clothes, shoving random things into his bag—only to freeze midway when he spotted the calendar.
"…It's Saturday."
Haruki dropped his bag on the floor, his face blank.
Just then, his phone buzzed. It was a message from Ayla.
> **Ayla:** Good morning 😘 How's your face?
Haruki instinctively touched his cheek, where a faint bruise still lingered. He quickly typed back.
> **Haruki:** Good morning. My cheek's fine. Doesn't hurt at all.
Her reply came almost instantly.
> **Ayla:** Sure it doesn't. Hahaha.
He could almost hear her laugh. His lips curved into a smile before his fingers nervously typed another message.
> **Haruki:** Are you busy today?
>**Ayla.** Not really. Why?
>**Haruki.** Maybe... you'd like to meet today?
He hesitated, staring at the message. His thumb hovered over the screen, torn between sending it or deleting it. But then—
**BANG!**
A loud thud rattled his door. Startled, his finger slipped, and the message was sent.
"Wait—no, no, no!" Haruki panicked, fumbling with his phone. "Do I unsend it? Do I—"
Before he could decide, the "read" mark appeared. His heart sank.
"Oh no… she saw it…"
The banging continued. Haruki groaned, walked to the door, and opened it. Kenta stood there with a broken doorknob in his hand, grinning.
"It was already like this when I got here," Kenta said with absolute zero shame.
Haruki slapped his forehead. "Seriously…?"
Kenta strolled inside like he owned the place, peeking into the kitchen. "Got anything to eat?"
Haruki, however, wasn't listening. His eyes stayed glued to his phone. Ayla hadn't replied yet. His stomach churned with nerves.
Kenta noticed. "What's wrong with you?"
Haruki sighed and explained everything—how he accidentally asked Ayla out.
Kenta tilted his head, then shrugged. "So what? She's your girlfriend. Nothing's wrong with asking her out."
As if on cue, a notification chimed.
> **Ayla:** Sure! I'll let my driver know and we'll pick you up!
Haruki froze. "Wh-What do I do now?!"
He looked at Kenta desperately, but Kenta was munching on chips, ignoring him.
"Kenta, please help me!!"
Finally, Kenta answered with a straight face. "First, you need a haircut."
Haruki blinked. "Eh? I don't have time for that!"
"Don't worry," Kenta grinned. "I know someone who does home service."
"Who?"
Kenta puffed his chest proudly. "Me."
Haruki's expression instantly turned dark and hesitant. "…Yeah, no."
Kenta snapped. "Don't you trust me, idiot?!"
Haruki made an even uglier face of doubt.
"Argh, your face pisses me off!" Kenta yelled. "Look—if you don't cut your hair, she'll think you didn't even put effort into your first date!"
Haruki's eyes widened. "…You're right…" His hesitation shifted into worry. "You're *sure* you know how to cut hair?"
"Of course! Who do you think I am?"
A few minutes later, Haruki sat nervously in a chair as Kenta snipped away. Surprisingly, when he was done, Haruki stared at his reflection in disbelief.
"This… looks good?"
Kenta smirked proudly. "Told you. Just let me eat your snacks and we're even."
"Fine. Just leave the cornchips for me, okay?"
Silence.
Haruki turned. Kenta was already munching on the cornchips.
"…Oi."
Kenta froze mid-bite. "What?"
"Those cornchips are mine."
"What cornchips?" Kenta asked innocently, holding the very bag in question.
Before he could finish, a pair of scissors *whizzed* past his head, embedding into a book behind him.
Kenta's face went pale. "H-Hey, calm down! I'll buy you more!"
"Too late," Haruki growled, stepping forward.
"Stop right there, you little—!"
Kenta bolted. Haruki chased him around the table, the two of them running in circles like children.
---
Meanwhile, across town, Ayla had just stepped out of the bath, toweling her hair. She stood in front of her mirror, holding up a dress.
"…Is this too much?"
She frowned at the revealing outfit. She wanted to look nice for Haruki, but she didn't want to overwhelm him either.
Then—
*Thud.*
Something crawled along the ceiling.
"Y-Yumi!" Ayla jumped, clutching her chest. "I told you to knock before entering! You'll give me a heart attack!"
Hanging upside down, Yumi's monotone robotic voice echoed. "Master Ayla, what is that dress about?"
Ayla blushed. "W-Well… Haruki and I have a date, and I don't know what to wear…"
"I know that," Yumi said flatly. "I'm asking why you're holding *that*. It's inappropriate for your first official date. And besides, it's cold outside."
Ayla pouted. "…Then what am I supposed to wear?"
"More importantly," Yumi continued, "do you even have a place for this date?"
Ayla froze, her worried face giving her away.
"I knew it," Yumi sighed.
"Please help me, Yumi!" Ayla begged, clutching her hands together. "This is my first time dating! I don't know where couples usually go!"
"Good thing I prepared in advance," Yumi replied calmly.
Ayla's face lit up. "I knew it—you're the best, Yumi! Thank you sooo much!"
But when she peeked at the list Yumi handed her, her expression changed. "…These look old. When did you make this?"
"When you were ten."
"…Wait, WHAT?!" Ayla gawked. "That was ten years ago! I didn't even *have* a boyfriend until this Valentine's Day! And more importantly, how old were you back then?"
"I was ten."
Ayla's jaw dropped. "Why the hell would a ten-year-old girl make a list of date spots for couples?!"
"As I said, Master Ayla—I was preparing for your first date."
"…Sometimes, you scare me," Ayla muttered.
"Anyway," Yumi said, ignoring her, "you need to prepare now. I'll pick something for you to wear."
Not long after, Yumi dressed Ayla in a cute but modest outfit: a black inner shirt with a cardigan, a skirt paired with high socks, and light makeup.
Ayla twirled in front of the mirror, smiling. "This is perfect."
"It's almost time," Yumi reminded her.
"Right. I'll be going now!" Ayla waved as Yumi smiled faintly and waved back.
q
---
Back at Haruki's, both boys sat slumped on the floor, exhausted from chasing each other. Haruki checked the time—it was almost ten. He quickly took a bath and changed while Kenta, still munching on snacks, waved him off.
When Haruki finished, his phone buzzed.
> **Ayla:** We're at the 7-11 now. Where's your house so we can pick you up?
> **Haruki:** No need. I'll just go there. Wait for me.
> **Ayla:** Sure. Take care ♥
Haruki pocketed his phone, his heart racing.
A few minutes later, Ayla sat in the back of her car, waiting. Then she saw him.
Her eyes widened. Haruki walked toward her with a brand-new haircut, wearing a black jacket that made his dark eyes and pale skin stand out even more. The small band-aid on his cheek gave him an unexpectedly cool charm.
Ayla's heart skipped. …He looks so handsome.
But just as Haruki approached with all the aura of a shoujo manga protagonist—he tripped on his shoelace.
He stumbled, nearly falling flat on his face. His aura shattered.
Ayla pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. So typical of him…
The driver quickly opened the door for Haruki. "This way, sir."
"T-Thanks," Haruki muttered, stepping inside.
The moment his eyes met Ayla's, they both turned red. She looked absolutely adorable in her outfit, far cuter than he imagined.
For a moment, the car was filled with shy silence until the driver politely asked, "So, where to, Miss Ayla?"
"Asakusa," Ayla said confidently.
Haruki blinked. "Asakusa? I heard it's a great spot for couples. You really prepared this, huh? That's just like you, Ayla."
"Of course," she said with a soft laugh. Internally, she thanked Yumi over and over. Thank you, Yumi. Thank youuuu!
The car rolled to a stop in Asakusa. As the doors opened, both Haruki and Ayla stepped out, but the air between them was thick with awkwardness. Neither spoke for a moment, until Haruki tried to break the silence.
"So… what's the plan now that we're here?" he asked, scratching his cheek nervously.
Ayla turned to him, her face slightly red. "Oh, yes! Actually, I really want to try renting a kimono. I heard there are a lot of good rental shops around here."
Renting kimonos? Haruki's brain short-circuited. So… Ayla's going to wear one? Ayla in a kimono?!
The image of her in a graceful kimono, smiling, popped into his mind. His whole face heated up as if steam was about to shoot from his ears.
Meanwhile, Ayla was waiting for an answer. When she saw him spacing out, her expression dropped a little. "Oh… you don't like it? I see, well, we can just go to—"
"NOOOO!" Haruki practically shouted, cutting her off. "We're gonna rent kimonos! I think… that'd look really good on you."
Ayla blinked, then turned her face away to hide her blush. "…If you say so."
Haruki laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck. "So, um, where exactly do we rent them? Sorry, I'm not really familiar here."
"Don't worry." Ayla puffed her chest proudly, though her ears were red. "As I said, everything is planned by me! We'll go to Nakamise for the kimonos, and then we can look around and eat after."
"Sounds great!" Haruki smiled, relieved.
---
At the kimono rental shop, Haruki finished changing first. When he stepped out, the lady assisting him actually blushed at how well he fit into the outfit. Haruki caught her reaction and panicked internally. Wait, why is she blushing? Do I look weird? I must look stupid in this thing…
But then—Ayla came out.
The room froze. Her pale skin, red lips, and calm yet captivating eyes made everyone stare, but no one more than Haruki. His mouth went dry. Wow… she's so pretty! Is she really my girlfriend?
Ayla's gaze met his, and she too felt her chest tighten. OMG… he's so handsome in a kimono! Thank you, Yumi, for planning this date. I'll make sure to raise your salary when I get home!!!
"So… what do you think?" Ayla asked shyly, holding a bit of her sleeve. "Do I look… pretty?"
Haruki answered without hesitation. "Yes, Ayla—you look really pretty in that kimono! I mean… you already look pretty without it, but with it, you're even prettier!"
The words slipped out before he could stop them. Ayla's cheeks turned crimson. She couldn't believe Haruki had just said that so straightforwardly. When Haruki realized what he had said, his own face went red, and silence filled the room again.
The shop owner coughed loudly. "Ehem! You're both good to go now. Just make sure to return them by 8:00 pm, alright?"
"Ah, yes—thank you!" they both replied quickly, bowing.
Outside, the cold February air brushed past them. Haruki, summoning his courage, gently took Ayla's hand. Both of them blushed at the contact, but Haruki tried to keep his cool.
"Let's… look around," he said, glancing at her.
"Sure!" Ayla replied, her lips curling into a small, happy smile.
But as the couple strolled through Nakamise-dōri, neither of them noticed the figure tailing them from the crowd.
It was Kenta.
He was crouched behind stalls and sneaking around corners, watching like a spy on a mission. "Heh, perfect view," he took photos of ayla and haruki together "for documentary purposes" he muttered.
But Kenta didn't realize—he, too, was being followed.
A shadow trailed him closely, face hidden under a mask and hair tucked away. Their presence was silent, their eyes locked onto Kenta.
Kenta had been tailing Haruki and Ayla for a while now, his eyes sharp but his steps casual so as not to be noticed. Then—
*Thwip!*
A wooden skewer flew past his cheek and buried itself into the wall of a closed stall.
Kenta snapped his head around, spotting a hooded, masked figure a short distance away.
"You bastard…" Kenta growled.
But before he could move, the figure spun on their heel and ran.
"Tch—!" Kenta chased, weaving through the narrow streets until the crowd thinned and they reached a secluded alleyway, quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside.
The masked figure stopped and turned.
"…Who the hell are you?" Kenta demanded.
No answer. Only silence.
Kenta clicked his tongue. "Tch. Guess I'll find out the hard way!"
He shrugged off his jacket slightly, loosening up, and stepped into his boxing stance. The figure suddenly dashed in, throwing a flurry of sharp jabs.
Kenta blocked, weaving, parrying. The hits were fast—calculated, like someone testing his guard and measuring distance. When he tried to counter with a hook, the figure instantly threw a kick to force space again.
Kenta's eyes narrowed.
This thug… he's no ordinary street punk. His movements are sharp and fast. Even those jabs—they're measuring distance, whenever I'm about to counter they're using kicks to maintain distance. And these punches… damn heavy too…
Kenta gritted his teeth, realizing he couldn't toy around anymore.
"Alright, no holding back!"
He took off his jacket in one swift motion, tossing it aside. His muscles tensed, broad shoulders filling the white sando he wore underneath.
The masked fighter hesitated—just a flicker of frozen motion. That was all Kenta needed.
He rushed in.
The figure flicked another stick from their sleeve, hurling it at him.
Kenta's eyes tracked it, his body twisting like he'd been caught off guard—only it was an act.
The fighter's eyes widened. (A feint?!)
By the time they realized, it was too late—Kenta's fist was already driving in. They tried to counter with a kick,
*WUSHHHH!*
The sheer force of Kenta's punch sent a gust of wind blasting outward. The fighter's hood ripped free, long hair spilling out, and the mask clattered to the ground—revealing a beautiful, refined face beneath.
Kenta froze, fist still hanging in the air. His eyes widened. "…Y-you're… a girl?!"
The girl calmly straightened, her gaze sharp yet graceful. "Why did you stop?"
Kenta blinked, lowering his fist. "…I could ask the same."
She smirked faintly. "I keep getting distracted."
"Must be hard fighting with a mask on," Kenta said, scratching his cheek.
The girl didn't answer—her eyes instead drifted down, staring at the muscles across his chest and arms.
Kenta suddenly felt the heat rush to his face. "Oi—! Quit staring!" He hastily grabbed his jacket and swung it back over himself, trying to cover up.
"A-anyway—" Kenta coughed, pointing an accusing finger. "Why the hell did you throw a *deadly weapon* at me earlier?!"
The girl tilted her head, expression flat. "It was a stick."
"Tomato, potato—same thing!" Kenta barked. "It nearly killed me!"
Her gaze sharpened. "I saw you following Master Ayla and her boyfriend. Now answer me—depending on your answer, I might kill you right here and now."
"…Did you just say *Master Ayla*?!" Kenta froze. "Wait, wait, hold on! Who the hell are you?!"
The girl straightened her back, her tone turning formal and fierce.
"Yumi. The 10th generation maid of the Hanami family. My job is to take care of Master Ayla… and eliminate all possible threats to her by any means."
Her eyes glimmered with deadly intent.
Kenta stared at her for a long moment—then burst out laughing.
"PFFT—HAHAHAHAHAH!!"
Yumi frowned. "What's funny?"
Kenta grinned ear to ear. "Well, it just so happens that I'm Haruki's buddy! And I'll eliminate all possible threats to him by anyhah… any… ANY MEANS—!!"
He tried to copy her serious delivery, but halfway through his face contorted and he broke into uncontrollable laughter. "BAHAHAHAHA!! I can't—seriously, you talk like some manga character!!"
Yumi's glare only grew colder.
Meanwhile, somewhere in Asakusa, both Haruki and Ayla suddenly sneezed at the same time.
"Must be the wind," Haruki muttered, rubbing his nose.