After the cheeky kiss on the bench and Mika's adorably indignant response, the atmosphere between them softened. Mika had made it clear—Kokoro wasn't getting off that easily. Her punishment? Another date. A proper, leisurely afternoon date around the heart of Tokyo. It was, in her words, the only fair price for her wounded pride.
So now, hand in hand, the two wandered beneath the towering buildings and bustling neon signs of central Tokyo. The city's energy buzzed around them—laughter, traffic, the distant music of a street performer strumming a shamisen near a food stall. Mika wore a cute cream beret and an off-shoulder top with her white skirt, effortlessly drawing glances from passersby. Kokoro, now back in a more normal get-up—hoodie, jeans, sneakers—walked beside her, his fingers interlocked with hers.
What Kokoro didn't know, however, was that they weren't alone.
