3:00 PM – Riverside Stroll
The sun had drifted past its peak, casting gold across the lazy sprawl of the river.
Light flickered over the water like shattered glass in motion—each ripple catching the sky like it was trying to memorize it.
The gravel path crunched softly underfoot, edged with the soft pink remnants of late-blooming sakura. Their petals floated down lazily, like paper prayers forgotten by the wind.
Rin walked slower now, notebook clutched to her chest like a tiny secret.
There was a quiet glow to her face, like she'd been steeping in sunlight. Or joy.
Around us, voices drifted.
An old couple on a bench, murmuring about how the river used to be wilder in their youth.
A group of middle school boys were daring each other to touch the water and then immediately screaming when it splashed back.
And one college guy, probably a philosophy major, waxing poetic to his bored-looking girlfriend about how "the flow of the river is like time—you can touch it, but you can't hold it."
I mean, good luck holding time. Or your girlfriend, apparently.
I glanced sideways at Rin. Her eyes followed the river's gentle movements.
"Peaceful, huh?"
She nodded. "The sound of the water is nice. It's like… everything else gets a little quieter."
I watched the current flow beneath the little bridge up ahead. The surface glittered like a million tiny mirrors, each catching the sun in bursts.
"Yeah. It's like light's doing parkour on the water."
"Parkour?"
"You know. Jumping. Flipping. Dramatic emotional damage."
She giggled. "You're weird."
"I try."
Then we passed a little boy who was dramatically preparing to leap into the river like he was in a shounen anime about to unlock a water dragon spirit. His mother, clearly the final boss of discipline, grabbed him mid-leap, pinched his cheeks so hard his soul left his body, and scolded him into another dimension.
I watched the kid's failed dive, then looked back at Rin.
"Can you swim, Kamoshida-san?" I asked casually.
She blinked like I'd asked her if she knew quantum mechanics.
"Eh? Swim? Oh—n-no. I… I can't."
"Really? But we have swim class."
"I-I just sort of… survive it."
"Float?"
"Sink. Gently."
I laughed. Not just a little chuckle. A full, winded, shoulders-shaking laugh.
She pouted, puffing her cheeks, but her smile peeked through anyway like it refused to be suppressed.
"I never liked water," she mumbled, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek as the breeze played with her bangs. "It's too quiet. Like you're alone with your thoughts."
"…So, terrifying."
"Very."
We paused at a riverside ice cream truck. It was one of those nostalgic ones with a peeling menu board and a jingle that sounded like it was playing underwater.
The old man inside looked like he had witnessed three generations of teenage love stories and judged every one of them personally.
I got chocolate. Rin, naturally, got strawberry. With a little heart-shaped swirl on top. Because of course.
The man handed us our cones with a knowing smirk that said: ah yes, young love and sugar... truly inseparable.
I chose to ignore the vibe.
We sat on a low brick wall near the edge of the water, our feet dangling just above the gravel.
Birds chirped in the distance. A breeze swept past, carrying with it the scent of the river, sweet sakura, and strawberry artificial flavoring.
Rin took a bite of hers and made a tiny squeak of delight. "Mmm!"
I took a bite of mine and nodded solemnly. "Solid."
She tilted her head. "You really like chocolate, Mizuki-kun?"
"It's reliable. Tastes like what it says it is. No surprises."
She pouted at her pink swirl. "Strawberry's cuter."
"Strawberry lies," I said. "Sometimes it's sweet. Sometimes it tastes like hospital syrup."
She gasped like I had insulted her firstborn. "Take it back!" she cried dramatically, lowering her ice cream like it had been wounded.
"Never."
"You have no taste, Mizuki-kun."
"You're eating pink ice cream shaped like a heart."
"You're eating sadness in a cone."
We both burst out laughing.
Two crows on a nearby lamp post looked at us like we were idiots. Which, honestly, we were. But the kind of idiots that were having a good time.
I glanced at Rin as she nibbled her strawberry swirl, her eyes squinting against the sunlight.
She looked… peaceful. Like she'd been waiting for this moment without knowing it. A soft kind of happiness. Not loud, not dramatic. Just there.
Like water under sakura trees.
For a second there, I forgot.
Forgot about that.
The thing looming over me like a cosmic joke wrapped in sparkles and divine meddling.
The Blessing of Love. A gift that forces someone to fall for me.
Rin's laughter was still echoing softly when I glanced up.
There it was.
Floating just above her head like some unskippable in-game UI element:
[Affection – 83%]
Eighty-three percent.
Not bad, right? I should be celebrating, maybe throwing confetti or doing a smug anime protagonist pose while the wind dramatically flutters my shirt.
But all I could do was sigh internally.
Because that number wasn't just about how much Rin liked me…
…it was how much she liked the version of me wrapped in divine glue and forced chemistry.
I didn't earn that 83%.
And if the blessing vanished—what would be left?
Would her smile still find its way back to me?
Would she still laugh at my jokes? Still look at me like I wasn't just another awkward boy dodging life?
Or would everything unravel like one of those rigged crane games where you almost win, but the claw has the grip strength of wet tofu?
Still… if you'd told me last week that I'd be spending six days with a girl—
A shy, notebook-carrying, soft-spoken, poetry-loving girl—
Flirting.
Flirting, like I had charisma points in real life or something.
I would've laughed.
Like, ugly laughed.
The kind that echoes in the shower when you remember your most embarrassing moments.
But here I was.
Eating ice cream. On a riverside. With her.
And for a moment… I wanted to believe it was real.
Even if 83% of her affection was maybe divine-sponsored emotional trickery…