Dinner at the Katsuragi household was always a comforting routine, the kind that grounded even the most chaotic days. The dining room was warmly lit, with soft amber hues casting long shadows over the steaming dishes laid out on the polished wooden table. Tonight's meal, lovingly prepared by their mother, was a spread of grilled fish, tamagoyaki, pickled vegetables, and miso soup with seaweed and tofu—a simple but hearty meal.
Kokoro sat across from his mother, Eniko, wore a gentle and teasing smile at the dinner table. Next to Kokoro was his ever-energetic little sister, Yui, who was already stuffing her cheeks with rice like a chipmunk.
"You look tired, big bro," Yui said, pausing mid-bite to inspect his face. Her eyes sparkled with playful mischief. "Or maybe you're lovesick?"
Kokoro coughed and quickly brought a cup of tea to his lips. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm just tired from club activities."
"Club activities, huh?" Yui narrowed her eyes as if inspecting a criminal. "Was that with the pink-haired senpai you've been talking about lately?"
Eniko raised an eyebrow with a smile as she refilled his soup. "Pink-haired senpai? Should I be worried?"
"You shouldn't be listening to this gremlin," Kokoro grumbled, reaching over to ruffle Yui's hair.
She swatted his hand away, laughing. "Admit it! You're getting popular, big brother! First Mika-senpai, now Sayuri-senpai... you're on a roll!"
Eniko chuckled but gave him a curious look. "Still, I'm glad you're making friends. You've always been a bit reserved."
After some more light teasing and warm conversation, Kokoro retreated upstairs to his room. The soft thump of his footsteps against the carpeted stairs was familiar, almost rhythmic. When he opened the door, the familiar scent of old books, ink, and a faint hint of citrus greeted him.
His room was a reflection of himself. Posters of various anime adorned one wall, while another was dedicated to shelves stacked with manga, light novels, and a few prized figurines—mostly female characters in detailed outfits. His desk was neatly arranged, with a large monitor and a sleek drawing tablet beside it. A cup still stained with remnants of coffee sat at the edge.
Kokoro walked in, flopped face-first onto the bed, and groaned.
"What a day..."
Flashes of memory surged behind his closed eyelids. Mika's feelings, her sudden boldness. The upcoming date she had scheduled for Saturday—it still didn't feel real. And then, Sayuri-senpai. The way her pink hair had shimmered in the evening light. How earnestly she worked on her manga. The joy in her voice when he agreed to help. The giggle that lingered in his head, soft like petals brushing against skin.
His heart felt... complicated.
He turned onto his back, staring at the ceiling with tired eyes. "I'm getting too involved…" he muttered. "This wasn't supposed to be my high school experience."
Just as his eyes began to grow heavy and sleep crept into his limbs, his phone buzzed violently on the nightstand.
BZZT. BZZT. BZZT.
Groggily, he reached for it.
The screen displayed an unknown number.
Kokoro blinked. Who would call at this hour? He hesitated for a moment but pressed the green button and held the phone to his ear.
"Hello?"
Static. Then a familiar voice—soft, but layered with something unreadable—came through.
"Kokoro? It's me… Mika."
Kokoro's eyes shot open.
"Mika? Wait—how did you get my number?"
On the other end, there was a faint breath, then a soft chuckle.
"You forgot, didn't you? You filled out that form during the class project last week. The contact list got passed around. I just... saved it. I hope that's okay."
He sat up straight in bed, now fully awake. His pulse quickened.
"No, it's fine. I just wasn't expecting it. Is everything alright?"
There was a pause.
"I... just wanted to talk. I hope I'm not bothering you."
Kokoro looked around his room, his sketchpad, his digital workspace, the open window still letting in a breeze scented with sakura blossoms.
"No," he said quietly, leaning back against his pillows. "You're not."
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Mika lay on her soft, plush bed, cradling a pillow to her chest as she stared dreamily at the ceiling. Her room was spacious, an embodiment of wealth and luxury. Large, plush carpets covered the floor, and a sleek modern desk sat by a tall window overlooking the city. Behind her, a staircase led up to another level of the room, lined with bookshelves that housed novels, art, and books about the latest trends in fashion and beauty. In the corner, a gigantic flat-screen TV glowed softly, a testament to the opulence that surrounded her.
She couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as she imagined the upcoming date with Kokoro. It wasn't just any date—it was her date, and she was determined to make it unforgettable. The thought made her cheeks flush a soft pink as she cuddled the pillow tighter, giggling to herself.
On the other end of the phone, Kokoro was still processing the surprise Mika had just dropped on him. It wasn't like Mika to be so... direct. Her suggestion that he would be hers alone during the date left his heart racing, a nervous flutter in his chest.
"The date will be at 3 PM, this Saturday," Mika had said, her voice warm and teasing. "I'll surprise you, so don't worry about anything. It's going to be perfect."
Kokoro's face turned bright red. "Why does it feel like our roles have reversed? Shouldn't the boys be the ones leading the date?"
Mika let out a soft, melodic laugh that made Kokoro's heart skip a beat. "Because you, Kokoro, are my little princess. I'll be the one taking care of you."
The comment sent a shiver down Kokoro's spine. The playfulness in Mika's voice reminded him of the crazy side of her he had seen before. He suddenly realized that he wasn't sure if he was prepared for whatever surprises she had planned.
In a flustered panic, he hung up the phone quickly, muttering under his breath, "Damn, how did I get involved with someone this crazy?"
On the other end, Mika looked at her phone in surprise as the call abruptly ended. She pouted at the screen, a mischievous glint in her ashen-gray eyes. "Kokoro... you're worse than a stunder," she mumbled with a cute, playful pout.
She lay back, still holding the pillow to her chest, staring up at the ceiling in thought. Her snow-white shoulder-length hair framed her face, and as she pondered what to do on their date, a crazy and excited glint appeared in her eyes. She blushed, covering half of her face with her right arm, barely containing her excitement.
Her thoughts raced. What should I do with Kokoro?
She giggled to herself, already imagining the surprises she'd have in store for her little princess, Kokoro.
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The ringing echo of Mika's voice from last night still lingered faintly in Kokoro's ears, even as the morning sun crept gently across the classroom floor. It was a new day—a quiet Friday that stood like a glass bridge before the stormy unknown of Saturday.
Kokoro sat at his desk, posture straight but mind swirling. His hand moved on autopilot, taking neat, comprehensive notes on the blackboard's content—formulas, historical dates, vocabulary. Yet, his thoughts drifted with every tick of the classroom clock. Across the room, Mika occasionally glanced his way, her ashen-gray eyes calm, enigmatic, and unreadable. When their eyes met, she smiled—a slow, deliberate curve of her lips that sent Kokoro's heart skipping a beat. He quickly looked away, pretending to be deeply interested in conjugating verbs.
From the seat in front of him, Kojima Sayori—the short, golden-haired girl with boundless curiosity and a knack for dramatic flair—twisted around slightly in her seat. She leaned in close enough for Kokoro to hear her whisper, "Don't stop working on the manga, okay? The story is really getting good now!"
Kokoro gave her a small nod and a thankful smile. Sayori's eyes sparkled, and she returned to her notes, her twin pigtails bouncing with each movement. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and her words of encouragement were always welcome.
During lunch break, Kokoro found himself in a familiar crowd. Kenta, his boisterous desk neighbor, flopped down beside him, followed by Genji and Minoru. The three were still joking about their Drama Club initiation disaster. "I swear," Genji laughed, "I forgot my lines the moment everyone looked at me. It was like my soul left my body."
Minoru added with mock solemnity, "We lived through a war, brother. A war of shame."
Kenta chuckled and elbowed Kokoro. "Man, you're lucky. You just get to draw with cute upperclassmen."
Kokoro groaned. "It's not like that."
Not far from their banter, Kubo Haruki was deep in an astronomy book, using lunch to sketch constellations on graph paper. He lit up when Kokoro asked him how the Astronomy Club was going. "We're learning how to read star charts. I even saw Jupiter through a telescope last night. It was beautiful," Haruki said, eyes gleaming.
Meanwhile, Ishida Nao twirled in place near the window, headphones around her neck. She had joined the Idol Club, naturally. With her love for karaoke and idol culture, she fit right in. "Our senpais are so cool," she said to Tanaka Fumika, who was eating homemade omurice from her own lunchbox.
Fumika smiled shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Cooking Club's great too. We're planning to make desserts next week. I'm going to try making matcha roll cake."
The two girls giggled, full of newfound excitement and energy, their voices filling the air like soft music.
Elsewhere, Nakajima Rei was lounging in his chair, feet propped up on the desk in full defiance of classroom norms. "Clubs are too much effort," he yawned. "I'd rather just sleep or read."
Fujimoto Riku nodded from beside him, sketching something vague in his notebook. "Same. We're the free spirits. The unaffiliated elite."
And then there was Hanabusa Mei—quiet, composed, and ever observant. He had joined the Book Reading Club and spent most breaks with a book in his hands, eyes moving carefully across every word. Sometimes, he would smile softly as if savoring the perfect sentence. Though he didn't speak much, his presence was grounding, like a calm breeze in the midst of classroom chaos.
As the final bell rang and the day wound down, Kokoro helped Aikawa Sayuri wrap up the last touches on the manga project. The two of them gave each other tired smiles, knowing they had done their best. The manga was complete, ready to be submitted to the upcoming short story manga competition. It felt good—fulfilling even—to have accomplished something together.
That night, Kokoro found himself standing in front of his open closet, heart pounding like a drum. Saturday had finally arrived.
The date.
His date.
With Mika.
He rummaged through hangers with trembling hands, muttering under his breath. "Too formal... too casual... definitely not that one." After what felt like a battle against fashion indecision, he settled on a clean, modern outfit: a dark navy jacket over a light gray shirt, slim jeans, and polished shoes. Nothing too flashy, but something presentable—an outfit that said, 'I tried.'
He stood in front of the mirror and stared at his reflection. It was hard to believe. Just a week ago, things were so different. Now, he was preparing to go on a date with a girl who could melt him with a smile and terrify him with a word.
With Mika, nothing was predictable.
Kokoro sighed and sat down on the edge of his bed, staring at the ceiling. His heart was pounding. His legs were bouncing restlessly.
He was nervous.
Beyond nervous.
Tomorrow, he was going on a date with Watanabe Mika—and he had no idea what to expect.