Dinner ended. Sakura cleared the dishes with her usual perfect posture, bowed politely, and glided up the stairs.
Ten minutes later the dining room was still frozen in radioactive silence.
Then—
BAM!
Grandfather's thick palm slammed the table hard enough to make the teacups jump.
"Which little bastard dares touch my granddaughter?! I'll rip his fucking—"
Veins bulged on his forehead like angry earthworms.
Tsubaki hurriedly waved her hands. "Dad, calm down, please… Sakura's at that age now."
She sighed softly, a wistful smile touching her lips. A boy, huh? I wonder what kind he is…
"Trust Sakura," she added gently. "She chooses well."
Grandfather's furious cursing only grew louder.
Upstairs, Sakura didn't even glance toward the noise. For once, family drama ranked dead last on her priority list.
She knelt seiza on the tatami, phone cradled in both hands like a sacred relic, and began typing.
Typed halfway → deleted.
Typed again → deleted.
A new message from Ayaka popped up.
Ayaka: 『Tomorrow what time??』 Sakura: 『…He hasn't said anything』 Ayaka: 『Ha, the idiot forgot?』 Sakura: 『Maybe he's busy…』 Ayaka: 『Modern Japanese high school boys are NEVER busy at night. They're either gaming or jerking off. Just ask.』 Ayaka: 『Do this: tell him you're buying tickets online right now and 10 a.m. works for you. You're paying anyway—he can't complain even if he's "busy".』 Sakura: 『!! Ayaka you're a genius… but I don't know how to buy online…』 Ayaka: 『Leave it to me.』 Sakura: 『Ayaka smartest person alive!! I'll transfer you the money!!』
Back in her room, Ayaka lay against the wall, long legs kicking the air, staring at the ceiling light like it had personally offended her.
Being called a genius at eighteen… still feels like getting a sticker for tying your shoes.
But whatever. Operation Wingwoman activated.
With the "I'm paying" shield equipped, Sakura finally typed smoothly:
『Good evening. I hope this message finds you well. They say a letter is like a face—opening it brings joy. About the movie we discussed, tickets are selling fast, so I was thinking of purchasing them online now. Would tomorrow at 10 a.m. work for you?』
Satoru had just stepped out of the bath, steam still rising from his shoulders.
Beep beep.
He flinched—almost thought it was a ghost again—then remembered: ah, phone.
First, ten unread messages from Akane.
Latest: 『Why are you ignoring me (* ￣︿￣)』 Scrolling up: 『Dinner?』 『I ate this [photo of pure sugar and regrets]』
A tiny smile tugged at his lips.
『Was bathing』 Instant reply: 『First message was 2 hours ago!! 2-hour bath?!』 Satoru: 『Hehe』 Akane: 『What's so funny! (.⋋⋌.) Fine, what are you doing tonight? Chat~~』 Satoru: 『Sleep』
Then—Sakura's single, elegant wall of text.
The culture shock hit like a truck.
One girl spamming emojis and rage faces, the other writing like she was composing a formal letter to the shogun.
Gotta reply in kind or I'll look like a barbarian.
He thought long and hard, channeling every ounce of refinement he possessed, and typed:
『?』
Peak elegance. Concise, slightly cute—his signature move.
Sakura immediately screenshotted it and forwarded to Ayaka.
Ayaka: 『Miyajima Sakura-sama… did you time-travel from the Edo period?』 Ayaka: 『This guy is colder than dry ice. Next time we're beating manners into him. Just because he's a little handsome he thinks he can—』
Sakura ignored the second half.
She stared at the lone 『?』, then dramatically flopped backward from seiza, kicking her legs in the air and laughing like a giddy child.
…
Next day, 10 a.m. – Shibuya, Hachiko Statue.
Perfect weekend weather—bright sun, gentle breeze, no trace of yesterday's chill.
Sakura stepped out of the station in a loose white knit top and slim pants, side ponytail tied with a red ribbon. Snow-white skin, willow-leaf brows, peach-blossom eyes—every inch the fairy-tale heroine. Even in casual clothes she looked like she'd walked straight out of a painting.
Instantly became the most beautiful scenery in Shibuya.
Whispers followed her like background music.
"Goddess…" "Those legs in a skirt would end civilizations…" "Chest game strong even under that sweater…" "Ass built for heirs—"
A few brave (or stupid) nanpa guys started tailing her, already rehearsing their lines.
Then—
"Kobayashi-kun!"
Sakura's melodic voice cut through the crowd. She waved happily, red ribbon fluttering.
Every nanpa guy turned to stone.
A tall boy with sword-straight brows and melancholic eyes looked up from his phone. The decadent, world-weary aura rolling off him could've powered a gothic novel.
The tails collectively took internal damage.
…Zero percent chance.
Bitter despair settled over them like fog.
"Kobayashi-kun… s-sorry!" Sakura trotted over and bowed deeply, cheeks pink. "I—I misread the time…"
Satoru glanced at his phone. 9:58 a.m.
She was two minutes early.
But seeing her flustered like this somehow made the untouchable Minister ten times cuter.
"No problem," he said softly, scratching his cheek. "You're right on time."
-------------------------------
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