Two Days Later — Late Afternoon
Riko believed she had time. Six months felt like a lifetime,she is lazily laying on her bed thinking about her work and classes and everything in between.
Then, her phone buzzed
Okaa-san
"Riko-chan, send me a photo of you and Sakuma-kun hugging 💕
Riko stared at the message until the universe blurred.
…A hug selfie.
Her soul evaporated.
She called her mom instantly.
"O-Okaa-san?? Why hugging?? What if we're… shy?!"
Her mother hummed suspiciously.
"Mm-hmm. I just want proof. Because you sounded panicked the other day."
Panic? PANIC? She always sounded like that.
"Okaa-san, isn't this too soon? Hugging is—"
"You're planning to be engaged in six months. A hug will not kill you, ne?"
Riko felt violently killed already.
Before she could argue more, her mom hung up with a cheerful little "Ganbatte~".
Riko stared at the ceiling.
Then rolled on the bed.
Then screamed silently into her pillow.
"Aaahhh I'm going to die."
But there was only one option.
She called Kaito.
He picked up with the voice of a man emotionally done with society.
"…Sakuragi-san."
"I need a favor," she whispered dramatically.
Silence.
Then a tired sigh.
"What now?"
She gulped. "My mom wants a—"
Her voice shrank.
"…hug selfie."
There was a pause so long she wondered if the call dropped.
"…No."
"Please!"
"No."
"Pleeeease!" she clasped the phone with both hands like it could see her bowing. "She suspects us— if we don't do this she'll drag me to engagement meetings again— I cannot go back to Kyoto and marry maple syrup"
Kaito groaned.
A long suffering groan like a salaryman remembering tax season.
"You are a disaster."
"I know," Riko said proudly and pathetically at the same time. "A functioning disaster. Help me function."
He was quiet again. Riko imagined him staring at the ceiling, reconsidering every life decision that led him to this phone call.
"Fine," he muttered.
Riko gasped. "Really?!"
"But only one photo."
"Yes!"
"And no dramatic poses. Just a casual hug."
"Of course! I'm the queen of casualness," she lied.
Another sigh. "Meet at the café at six."
"Done!"
"Don't make a scene."
"I would never," she said while already sweating.
He hung up.
Riko flopped back onto her bed, staring at the ceiling fan spinning in judgment.
"How do you casually hug a stranger who is only legally boyfriend in my panic universe?"
She started practicing air-hug choreography like a socially confused squirrel.
Her phone dinged.
Kaito Sakuma:
"I will stand. You can do whatever."
Riko read it, then face-planted into her pillow again.
Kaito sat on the edge of his simple business hotel bed, staring at his phone in silent horror.
A hug.
A hug selfie.
With that panic tornado woman.
He stood up, sat back down, ran a hand through his long, slightly tangled hair, and regretted his entire existence.
"It's just a hug," he told himself. "Normal humans do this. Probably."
But normal humans weren't drafted into romance wars by strangers.
He practiced lifting one arm, then both, then froze mid-hug pose like a mannequin glitch.
"Nope," he muttered.
This was absurd. He created machine learning models, not hug pipelines.
His phone buzzed again.
Riko:
"We just need to look natural, like a drama couple. Not that you and I are a drama couple, omg, bye."
He closed his eyes.
Six months. I agreed to six months.
He was a stable man. He didn't panic. He made software. He ate mochi. He lived quietly.
Now he was practicing how to hug like a shy cat afraid of human touch.
He sighed and rubbed his temples.
"Why am I doing this?"
Then quietly, the truth slipped in, an inconvenient one.
Because she looked genuinely desperate.
And maybe, just maybe, the chaos was oddly alive.
He immediately rejected the thought.
"Ridiculous," he muttered.
He checked the time. One hour until hug practice.
He took a breath.
"I should stretch."
6:00 p.m. — The Same Minimalist Café
Riko arrived early. Not early early. Terrified early.
She sat with her bag clutched like a life vest, iced tea sweating beside her. Her reflection in the window stared back nervous smile, over-prepared hair, tiny panic breathing.
Every time the café door chimed, she jumped like someone had yelled at marriage counseling.
6:00 p.m. sharp.
Door chime.
Kaito walked in like a storm cloud with Wi-Fi problems. Long messy hair. Black hoodie. Laptop bag. Expression: I regret being alive today.
He spotted her, walked over, and sat down.
No greeting. Just a sigh so heavy even the café plants felt depressed.
Riko bowed immediately, practically folding herself into an origami apology.
"Thank you thank you thank you I swear I'll repay you somehow, coffee, matcha, oxygen, anything—"
"Stop." His voice was tired. Polite. Dead inside.
"You already apologized five times on call."
"That was pre-panic," she whispered. "This is live panic."
He stared at her like a man staring into chaos and accepting his fate.
"Let's finish this quickly."
Riko nodded intensely, like she was about to perform at the Olympics.
They both stood.
Silence. Total awkward silence.
Two people, staring at each other, trying to remember what hugging means.
Riko lifted her arms halfway.
Kaito raised one arm slowly, like the hug was downloading at one percent per second.
She tried again. He tried again. Both stopped.
Riko flinched. Kaito blinked.
They hovered like anxious penguins afraid of intimacy.
"Should I um come from the side or the front or—"
"Why are there multiple options? It's a hug, not a tactical mission."
"Different hugs have different emotional meanings!"
Kaito pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is already a mistake."
"Okay," she said with sudden determination. "I will approach you gently."
"That sounds threatening."
"No, it does well, just don't move."
She stepped closer. He stiffened like someone pressed pause on him.
Riko wrapped one arm around him. Just one. She froze. He froze harder.
They separated like magnets repelling each other.
"I swear hugging was easier in anime," Riko muttered.
Kaito stared at the ceiling, deeply re-evaluating the nature of human contact.
"We are terrible at this."
"Yes," she whispered. "But only emotionally."
"Not physically too."
"I am going to die."
He exhaled slowly, like a Buddhist monk trying to remain calm.
"Let's try one last time."
The Hug Photo
Kaito didn't speak again. He simply rolled up his hoodie sleeves with quiet annoyance, as if preparing for a difficult task not physical closeness.
Then, unexpectedly, he reached up and tied his hair back.
Riko blinked. Once. Twice.
It was the first time she had seen his face clearly. Sharp jawline. Calm, tired eyes. A surprisingly gentle expression even if he didn't mean it to be.
Her heart stopped like a buffering video.
"He's actually handsome?"
He pushed his hood off next, a simple white T-shirt underneath, soft fabric stretching lightly across his lean shoulders. Nothing flashy. Just clean, minimal and somehow unfairly attractive.
Riko's brain quietly caught fire.
"Why does a white shirt suddenly feel illegal?"
Kaito ignored her meltdown and placed his phone on the café table, setting a timer like a man performing the most inconvenient task of his week.
"Don't move," he murmured, monotone.
Before she could nod, he stepped forward and wrapped one arm around her gently. Not awkward, not robotic this time. Steady. Warm. Natural.
Riko froze. His warmth seeped through her shoulders. His scent, plain soap and coffee, something quietly clean filled her lungs.
Her brain whispered something unhelpful like: "Oh no he's soft and handsome. That's dangerous."
For a moment, she forgot this was fake. She forgot everything except how safe she suddenly felt in that one, simple, controlled embrace.
The camera clicked.
Kaito immediately stepped back, expression resetting to default I hate everything mode.
Riko inhaled sharply, as if waking from a daydream she definitely wasn't having.
"O-Okay," she squeaked. "That was professional."
"Hn." He nodded like someone who had just successfully restarted a malfunctioning computer.
Riko forced her fingers to stop fidgeting long enough to send the picture to her mom.
Message delivered.
Within seconds:
Okaa-san:
"You look close. I approve."
Riko exhaled so hard her soul nearly left her body.
She turned to Kaito, bowing lightly. "Arigatou really. I owe you so much."
He gave a tiny shrug, as if kindness was a software glitch.
"Don't make it dramatic," he muttered.
They sat. A waiter passed by. Neither spoke.
A peaceful awkward bubble settled warmly, quite strange. Two people who shouldn't fit sitting like they accidentally did.
Riko sipped her drink, cheeks still warm. Kaito stared out the window like a cat watching rain.
No words. No panic. Just stillness.
When the bill arrived, Riko reached for it.
Kaito calmly tapped his card first.
Riko stared. "Ah wait I was supposed—"
"You panicked enough for today," he said simply. "I'll go."
He stood, hoodie back on like a curtain falling over a secret stage.
Riko remained frozen, warmth still lingering on her shoulders.
He gave her a small nod not rude, not affectionate, just quietly respectful and walked out, hair tie still holding his locks back revealing a face she suddenly wasn't ready to unsee.
The café door chimed behind him.
Riko placed her hands on her cheeks and whispered to the empty chair, "am I in trouble?."
And trouble felt suspiciously like her heartbeat.