Sakura watched Satoru point casually toward Center-gai, voice completely relaxed.
"…Together? Or do you wanna split up and meet back here at three?"
"Together!"
The answer shot out of her mouth before her brain even finished processing the question.
Satoru glanced at her again.
She was still bowed at a perfect ninety degrees. The loose top hid everything up front, but the tight jeans and the angle… yeah, the curve from waist to hip was criminal. Shibuya's weekend wildlife had already been scattered by Conqueror's Glare, so no one was around to appreciate (or die from) the view.
Sakura suddenly realized what she was doing and snapped upright, ears red.
"S-Sorry! That was rude. If Kobayashi-kun wants, we can still try for the ten o'clock showing—"
"Tickets are non-refundable, right?"
Sakura gave a tiny, bitter smile. "…Yes."
(She had double-checked with Ayaka: 『Movie tickets aren't trains, dummy. No refunds.』)
"I'm easy," Satoru said, shrugging. "If Miyajima-senpai has plans later, just ditch me after lunch. I can—"
No keychains if we split. Physical pain in chest.
Seeing his brow crease, Sakura panicked and windmilled her hands. "No-no-no! I have zero plans! I was just worried I was holding you back from something important—"
Important? He'd finished weekend homework yesterday.
Her gaze dropped to the cloth-wrapped bokutō on his back.
…Mission later?
Even Grandfather didn't carry a sword 24/7, and he'd lived by the blade for seventy years. So this had to be some next-level training regimen.
Satoru caught the look. …Still kinda cringe carrying it everywhere?
Whatever. Thick skin activated. Sword = life.
"Just for fun," he said.
Sakura's eyes widened in pure reverence.
Light words, yet she heard the profound truth of the Way: man and sword must never part, communion at all times.
As expected of Kobayashi-kun…!
They picked a massive Chinese fast-food chain on the corner of Center-gai—four entrances, prices rivaling McDonald's and KFC combined.
Satoru reached for his tragically thin wallet.
Beep. Sakura's phone was already out, payment complete.
"My mistake, my treat," she said with the gentlest, most unrefusable smile in existence.
"…"
He at least wanted to cover the movie.
Same smile, same reason: "My mistake, my treat."
Satoru tried logic. "You can't use the same excuse twice, senpai."
Sakura switched tactics without missing a beat.
"I'm rich. Like, very rich."
Satoru: …
Male pride has left the chat.
Sakura ordered a small wonton soup—delicate, ladylike.
Satoru, soul of the motherland ignited, locked onto the glowing sign: Lanzhou Lamian.
(Fun fact: Lanzhou doesn't actually have "lamian." The entire chain was a knockoff of a knockoff invented by some guy from Jiangsu. Triple-illegal noodles. He had to know what that tasted like.)
Just past ten, the place was half-empty. They grabbed a random table by the window.
Food arrived in under three minutes.
Satoru's bowl: bright red oil, chili flakes floating like war banners, steam aggressive.
Sakura's: clear broth, three lonely wontons bobbing politely.
He took a sip of soup.
Soft entry, straight to the back of the throat—zero Chinese flavor, but edible. Temperature: surface of the sun.
Classic cat-tongue activated. Blow blow blow, slurp, hiss, repeat.
Glanced at Sakura.
She was delicately eating her wontons in complete silence, posture perfect, not a sound.
Satoru didn't want to force conversation.
Restraint. Restraint.
Under the calm surface, Sakura's brain was a Category 5 typhoon.
First time eating out alone with a boy. First time alone with Kobayashi-kun. …First time… given to Kobayashi-kun…
Suddenly the wrong tickets felt like divine intervention.
Covert glance—he was blowing on his noodles like a dragon trying to cool lava. Adorable. Wanted to say something. No idea what.
Mother's voice echoed: A lady does not speak while eating.
I am refined. I am reserved. I will not chatter randomly.
Desire to talk → suppressed by 400 years of yamato nadeshiko programming.
Satoru's side: normally meals = nonstop banter. Silence felt weird.
But whatever, he had business.
'System, get out here. Lottery time.'
[Hmph! Only remembers Ai-chan when he needs something. Most hated host ever! Boo, Ai-chan ignoring you—fine, professional ethics win.]
'Lottery.'
[Watch this—Auntie Ai-chan will pull something so OP you'll cry and beg for forgiveness!]
Ding ding duang duang—
New skill appeared in the TXT list:
Absolute Defense (Lamian): You take zero damage from any and all lamian, physical or emotional.
Satoru: …
Ai-chan: ┌(.Д.)┐
He stared at the bowl of triple-knockoff noodles that had just third-degree-burned his tongue anyway.
Trash system strikes again.
-------------------------------
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