By the time the end credits rolled, Mochizuki Haruka was still sound asleep, snuggled peacefully under the faint flicker of bluish TV light. Her delicate profile glowed softly—almost angelic—and not even the corniest comedy soundtrack could disturb her rest.
I watched her for a moment, a little overwhelmed by the urge to protect her, or at the very least, not disturb this peace she'd finally found. She looked so defenseless, so trusting, as if every wall she'd built as an adult had been lowered just for me.
What do you do with sweetness like this? Make a quiet exit? Leave a note? Stage a daring escape out the nearest window?
Or, you do the chivalry thing.
So I slowly slipped out from under her, swept an arm behind her back, another beneath her knees, and scooped her up into a full-on princess carry. It wasn't the first time I'd held Mochizuki like this, either—it'd become a weird tradition, her always snoozing, me always wanting the moment to never end.
She was always so open when she felt safe, curling into my chest, surrendering everything—body, embarrassment, worries—all at once. Sometimes, even in her twenties, she felt younger, like a trusting child who didn't know how to put up her adult guard. It was endlessly endearing.
I laid her gently on her bed, covered her with a thin blanket, and, unable to resist, pressed the lightest kiss to her forehead.
Chaos became quiet, and movie night anxieties finally faded.
We agreed to meet up again—a proper date, for once—in the weekend sunshine.
Which is how I ended up standing in front of my mirror the next morning, toweling off after a shower, wearing the plainest white T-shirt and blue jeans you could picture. No hair wax, no trendy layering, just me—slightly rumpled, sleepy-eyed, and appreciating the fact that sometimes, "simple" just works.
People spend a fortune to look this effortless, right? Right…?
I stepped outside and was immediately greeted by a breeze so crisp it erased the last traces of drowsiness. Sunlight streamed into the apartment courtyard, dappling the ground in gold between tree shadows. The flowers even seemed to have dialed up their colors just for today.
And she was already there. Mochizuki Haruka, waiting in front of the apartment entrance long before our scheduled time, practically glowing with excitement.
When she caught sight of me, her whole face lit up with that disarming smile.
"Good morning, Ginjo-san!"
"Good morning, Mochizuki-san. You're early! What time did you get here?"
She looked a little bashful. "Uh, fifteen minutes ago. I didn't want to make you wait like last time, so I thought I'd come early. But mostly… I was just too excited."
Her candor was infectious; even I couldn't keep the grin off my face.
She'd made an effort today, and it showed. Her short-sleeved shirt, with its playfully loose collar, didn't so much frame her curves as threaten to make a public spectacle out of them. A navy high-waisted skirt hugged every inch of her hips, and her smooth thighs—emerging from the skirt's hem and ending in simple leather shoes—were unfair in the morning sun.
Not that that was the only thing different. Her lips were a little more rosy, her hair had that vanilla fragrance I'd never smelled before, and the overall effect was… devastating.
Control yourself, Sousuke. You look at her any longer, and you're going to start drooling on the sidewalk like a cartoon dog.
"So beautiful…" I muttered, not even realizing I'd said it out loud.
She froze, those glass-bead eyes of hers widening even further as her cheeks tinted pink.
"Eh—!?"
Lightbulb. Crap. Did I say that out loud? Well, no more running away.
"Why so surprised, Mochizuki-san? No one's ever told you that before?"
She looked shook—like she'd just been given a gift she didn't know how to unwrap.
"Thank you, Ginjo-san. Really…" she said in a tiny, fluttery voice, eyes downcast.
"Alright then, let's go!"
I grinned big, turning to walk, but her fingertip caught my sleeve.
"Um… Ginjo-san… can you… say it again?"
She looked up at me with that pleading hopefulness, as if she needed one last confirmation she hadn't dreamt the whole thing.
I chuckled, then said—loud and proud for the whole street—"I mean it! Mochizuki-san is really beautiful today!"
She glowed. There's no other word—pure happiness radiated off her like a secret garden in full bloom. She murmured something about "Ginjo-san's compliment" under her breath and swayed as if made lighter by happiness.
"Well then! Ginjo-san, please take care of me today!" she said brightly, hand slipping into mine, her cheeks still pink as we set off down the sunlit sidewalk together.