Saturday morning came with the soft golden rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains of Kokoro's room. Dust motes floated gently in the air, catching the morning light as if dancing to a silent symphony. But the room itself was a mess—clothes were flung over the bed, some hanging precariously off the edges of the chair, others already discarded on the floor. The culprit: a single first-year high school student standing in front of a half-open closet, his face painted with urgency and distress.
Kokoro's eyes scanned every corner of his wardrobe like a detective trying to crack a case. "Nope. Too plain. Too wrinkled. Too middle-school," he muttered, tossing a shirt onto the growing mountain behind him. Beads of sweat rolled down his temple and neck. It was already close to 9:30 a.m., and nothing he picked felt quite right. Today was his date with Watanabe Mika.
KNOCK KNOCK
His little sister's voice came muffled through the door. "Onii-chan, breakfast is ready."
Kokoro opened the door, trying to act casual, only for Yui to tilt her head suspiciously. Her sharp eyes darted between the beads of sweat on his forehead and the chaotic disaster zone that was his room. She narrowed her eyes.
"…What were you doing?"
"Huh? Nothing. Just… cleaning."
Yui stared blankly at him, unconvinced, but shrugged. "Whatever. Just come eat. I'm not in the mood to nag you today."
She turned around and trudged down the stairs, muttering about how she wanted a quiet Saturday without any drama. Kokoro followed her to the dining room where the scent of grilled fish, eggs, and miso soup filled the air. Their mother, Eniko, stood at the table with her usual grace, wearing a simple yet elegant house dress, her hair pinned in a loose bun.
"Good morning, Kokoro," she said with a warm smile. "You look… tense."
Kokoro gave a sheepish laugh and quickly sat down. "Ahaha, just… got a lot on my mind."
"Is that so?" Eniko glanced at him knowingly but didn't press further.
The breakfast proceeded normally, though Yui kept sneaking glances at her brother. She didn't say anything, but her expression said it all—she knew he was up to something.
After scarfing down his meal faster than usual, Kokoro thanked his mother, rinsed his bowl, and practically sprinted back to his room.
"Alright, operation: Look Cool begins now," he whispered to himself.
The hours ticked by with the sound of hangers clinking, fabrics rustling, and occasional sighs of frustration. Finally, by 1:00 p.m., his eyes lit up with success. He laid the outfit on his bed and admired his final pick: a simple yet stylish combination of dark jeans, a crisp white t-shirt, and a sleek black leather jacket. It struck a balance between clean and cool, casual yet mature. Perfect.
He took a long, refreshing shower. The warm water did little to calm the fluttering butterflies in his stomach, but it washed away the stress from the morning scramble. Wrapping himself in a towel, he stepped out of the bathroom and glanced at the digital clock glowing on his desk.
2:00 p.m.
"Crap!"
Heart racing, he quickly dried himself off and dressed a simple jeans and a white plain t-shirt. As he slipped into the leather jacket and checked his reflection in the full-length mirror, he gave himself a small, self-deprecating grin.
"Not bad, Katsuragi. You don't look completely hopeless."
He grabbed his phone and wallet from his desk, slipping them into his jacket pocket, before Kokoro can ran off towards his date, he remembered that Mika hadn't talk about their meeting place. As he was about to message Mika to ask where they were meeting—DING-DONG.
"Kokoro~," his mother's voice floated up from downstairs. "Someone's here to pick you up."
His fingers froze over his phone screen. "Pick me up?"
His stomach tightened.
She wouldn't… would she?
He stepped away from the mirror, heart thumping as he moved toward the stairs, a mixture of dread, nervousness, and curiosity brewing inside him. And thus, Kokoro's date day had truly begun...
------------------------------------------------------
The sound of footsteps came thudding down the stairs as Kokoro descended, his heart beating with both anticipation and dread. He turned the corner into the entrance hallway, where his mother stood by the door, wearing her usual soft smile. But what caught him off guard—what made his breath hitch slightly in his throat—was the sight of Mika.
She stood there, radiant.
Her outfit was an elegant blend of modesty and poise. A long brown skirt flowed smoothly down to her ankles, its soft fabric shifting with each subtle movement. On top, she wore a sleeveless brown buttoned shirt layered over a form-fitting white long-sleeved blouse, the high collar lending a touch of classical refinement. Her snow-white hair was neatly brushed, with a soft braid curled like a ribbon over her shoulder, and her ashen gray eyes glittered with mischief under the morning light.
"Yo, Kokoro," Mika said, raising a hand in a casual yet oddly graceful wave. Her grin was wide, warm—and far too confident for Kokoro's flustered heart.
He barely managed to mumble, "You're... early."
Before Mika could respond, Eniko—Kokoro's mother—clasped her hands together as if witnessing a wedding procession. Her eyes sparkled as she took in her son's date and his choice of attire: the leather jacket, white shirt, and fitted jeans made him look just mature enough to pull off the 'reluctant heartthrob' aesthetic.
"A date? My sweet boy is finally on a date," Eniko whispered dramatically. Then louder, she added, "You two look absolutely perfect together! Enjoy your time, alright? And Mika, dear, Kokoro is very lucky to have a girl like you."
Kokoro turned beet red. "M-Mom! Can you not—"
Mika simply smiled, as though she were basking in the glow of her soon-to-be mother-in-law's approval. Then she added with a devilish spark in her tone, "Don't worry, Mother. I'll take care of Kokoro... for the rest of my life."
"M-Mother?!" Eniko gasped, a hand flying to her mouth as tears began to pool at the corners of her eyes. "Oh my. You can call me that anytime, sweetheart."
Before the situation could spiral further into maternal fantasy, Kokoro grabbed Mika's hand. "We're going! Thanks for the food, Mom! See you later!"
"Take care! And Mika, do come visit again soon!" Eniko called out as the front door shut behind them.
The moment they were outside, Kokoro leaned against the door, sighing. When he turned around, Mika was still grinning—her left hand now raised to cover her smirk.
"Why are you like this..." he muttered, voice half-defeated.
"Aww, is my little princess flustered already?" she teased.
Kokoro straightened, trying his best to appear unfazed. "Forget that. How did you even find my house?"
Mika blinked innocently. "Did you already forget that my aunt is the principal? I just asked her to check your registration info. Easy."
His jaw dropped. "That's... that has to be illegal."
"Not if no one finds out," she winked.
Before Kokoro could debate the ethics of school administration, Mika took his hand again. "Now, let's not waste time on boring stuff. This is our day. Come on!"
With that, she gently tugged him toward the black luxury car waiting by the curb. The driver, dressed in a pristine suit, opened the door wordlessly.
Kokoro's heartbeat doubled. Not just because Mika's hand was warm and soft in his, or because her perfume smelled faintly of vanilla and some expensive floral scent, but because this date—this crazy whirlwind of a day with the most eccentric girl he'd ever met—was about to begin.
And he wasn't sure he was ready.
But Mika had already decided: ready or not, he was hers for today.
He ducked into the car, heart pounding, thoughts tangled. What kind of date does a girl like Mika even plan?
He was about to find out.