Sorry I'm late
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Shouko watched Akira obediently close his eyes, his expression calm—as if completely at her mercy. For a moment, she hesitated, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed to go through with it.
The staff member nearby noticed her pause but didn't rush her. Instead, they quietly speculated about the two.
At first, they assumed the pair were a couple. But after observing a bit longer, their closeness felt… different. Perhaps they weren't dating yet?
Siblings, maybe?
"Hurry up!"
"Why are you so slow?"
"Exactly! The challenge failed—just smear the cream already!"
The few impatient spectators began jeering, making Shouko even less inclined to press the cream onto Akira's face. In that moment, she made up her mind.
She set the sticky bowl of whipped cream onto the table and looked up at the staff member.
"I've changed my mind… can I just buy this extra-large ice cream at the original price?"
Akira opened his eyes at that, his gaze lingering on Shouko before shifting toward the staff.
The woman hesitated. It was the first time she'd run into this situation since the shop opened. She honestly didn't know how to respond.
"I disagree!"
"Don't be such a killjoy!"
"Yeah, just smear the cream—what's the point of paying?"
Click. The kitchen door swung open. The chef from earlier reappeared, still in his uniform.
The female staffer's eyes lit up as if she'd found her savior. But before she could speak, the rugged man simply gave her a small nod.
"You can purchase it at the original price," he told Shouko, then turned to the rowdy onlookers with a stern look. "Also—please keep your voices down. Loud disruptions aren't allowed here."
"This isn't a library! Be careful, I'll—"
"Suit yourself," the man cut in smoothly.
"Just you wait!" one of them barked, slapping the table before storming out.
"Manager, that…" the female staffer began.
"It's nothing. I'm heading back to the kitchen. keep watch and call me if anything happens."
"Okay."
Akira watched the "manager" disappear behind the kitchen door again. It had all happened so quickly, he barely had time to process it.
"Two thousand yen for the original price," the female staffer announced.
Akira did the math in his head. Two thousand yen—about a hundred yuan. For a moment, he wondered if he should just let Shouko smear the cream instead… but no. Even if his family wasn't hurting for money, there was still his pride.
"Mhm," the staffer confirmed with a nod.
Shouko had already begun to rise to go pay—only to suddenly freeze. She leaned toward Akira and whispered, "Akira… I don't think either of us brought any money."
"…."
"…Right." Akira scratched the back of his head, laughing awkwardly. "We don't have it on us. Can my friend run back to get it while I wait here?"
The staffer hesitated, then nodded.
Akira turned to Shouko. "You remember where my locker is, right?"
She blinked, unsure.
"My wallet's in my pants pocket. I'll wait here." He unclasped his wristband and pressed it into her hand.
Shouko nodded quickly and hurried out of the shop.
"Careful, don't slip!"
"Got it!" She waved back without slowing.
"Number 39… number 39…"
Shouko scanned the rows of blue lockers until her eyes stopped on the right one. She waved over the attendant and showed them the wristband.
After confirming it was hers to access, the staffer unlocked it. Inside was just one folded set of clothes and pants.
Shouko reached for the pants, pulled out Akira's wallet, and opened it—only to spot something that made her pause.
A small red omamori.
Her fingertips brushed over the fabric, feeling the familiar raised stitching. She remembered it perfectly—it was the protective charm she'd given him at their kindergarten graduation.
On the front, her grandmother had embroidered Miyamura Akira in yellow thread. Inside was her own name, hidden away. She wondered if he'd ever noticed it.
No wonder she hadn't found it before when snooping around his room—he'd been carrying it with him all along.
A bold idea suddenly took root in her mind.
Without much hesitation, she slipped the charm from the wallet.
Did Shouko get lost?
Akira had been waiting for over ten minutes. The ice cream was melting, and his mind was wandering to absurd possibilities—aliens, kaiju battles, or some bizarre twist of fate that could only happen in his life.
Well, I got reincarnated with my memories, so… aliens wouldn't be the weirdest thing.
"Akira, Akira."
All wild thoughts vanished the moment he spotted her at the entrance. She paid the staff, then returned to sit beside him.
Before he could voice his concern, she spoke first.
"Akira, I noticed the omamori in your wallet is a little dirty. I'll take it, clean it, and give it back in a few days."
She figured it was better to tell him directly—he carried it everywhere, and he'd definitely panic if it suddenly went missing.
"…If I say no, will you give it back right now?" he asked cautiously.
"Nope," she replied with a light laugh, shaking her head. Then she picked up the spoon, scooped a bite of ice cream, and popped it into her mouth.
"I've already used that spoon, you don't mind?" he muttered under his breath as she continued eating happily.
"Ah~"
She held up half a spoonful and offered it to him expectantly.
Watching the spoon draw closer, Akira sighed in defeat and opened his mouth.
In the back kitchen, Miyamura Shizuka and Miyamura Daiki were both wearing disposable caps and masks.
"It's a pity we didn't get to see Akira's face covered in cream," Shizuka said, glancing at the photo she'd just taken on her phone.
Meanwhile, Daiki was deep in animated conversation with the "manager" who had stepped in earlier to defend Akira and Shouko.
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