Three Days Later — Late Afternoon
Riko believed she had time. Six months felt like a lifetime.
Until the universe, disguised as her mother, knocked on her apartment door at 4:16 p.m. on a weekday.
"Riko? I'm here. I want to meet Sakuma-kun. Open up."
Riko froze mid-sip of barley tea. She choked, coughed, panicked, prayed, and considered faking her death all in one second.
"O-Okaa-san?! You can't just, why?!"
Her mother slipped off her shoes neatly and entered like a polite hurricane.
"I was in Tokyo for an errand. Thought I should greet my son-in-law candidate."
Riko wanted to scream. Instead, she bowed in defeat.
"I-I haven't prepared! The apartment isn't spiritually ready!"
"Nonsense. Good couples don't need to prepare for basic visits."
Basic visit.
Riko felt her soul leave her body.
She texted Kaito at lightning speed:
Emergency! My mom is here. She wants to meet you. At my place. Tonight. Help. SOS. T-T
No reply.
She called.
He answered on the fourth ring, voice low, sleepy, calm, like he had just woken up in a zen garden.
"Sakuragi-san?"
"Help me," she whispered dramatically. "She's here. She wants dinner. At my place. With you. Tonight."
He groaned, complained, and resisted for a while like it was the most unnatural he's even heard. Then,
Pause. A quiet suffering exhale.
Then:
"Fine. Dinner at eight. I need time."
"Time for what?! Cooking? Mentally preparing? Hiring a fake uncle?"
"For a haircut."
Riko blinked.
"Haircut? Why is that your priority right now?!"
He hung up.
Riko stared at her phone.
"I shouldn't have called him," she muttered. "I should have called the embassy."
7:00 p.m. — Café Rehearsal
Same café as last time. Soft lights. Warm wood. Quiet chatter.
Riko sat with Aya and Yumi, shaking like a phone on vibrate mode.
"I am dead," Riko whispered. "This is the end of Riko Sakuragi. Bury me in a shampoo-scented coffin."
Aya patted her arm. "Calm down. Kaito-san will show up."
Yumi sipped matcha. "As long as he doesn't come looking... you know... homeless?"
Riko laughed nervously. "He won't. Probably. Maybe. He seemed... stable-ish."
Her knee bounced under the table. Every few seconds, she checked the door.
What if he didn't come? What if he forgot her name? What if he showed up with his laptop as his emotional support animal again?
Aya looked at her phone. "7:02. Deep breaths."
"I can't!" Riko hissed. "If I mess this up my mother will—"
The café door chimed.
Riko turned and forgot breathing existed.
Kaito Sakuma walked in.
Clean white shirt, simple black trousers, quiet confidence. Hair cut short and neat, soft fringe, clear jawline, eyes no longer hidden, posture straight.
He didn't look tired. Or messy. Or quiet-coder-with-laptop energy.
He looked...
Riko's brain: blue screen.
Aya's cup froze mid-air. Yumi's jaw dropped so low it nearly hit the pastry plate.
Kaito's eyes found Riko's. He walked over calmly, hands in pockets, expression unchanged — just the same mildly inconvenienced face, but now with the visual power of a high-end drama lead.
Riko opened her mouth. Nothing came out.
Kaito stopped beside the table and bowed politely.
"Sorry I'm late. Traffic was intolerable."
Aya whispered, "Who is this? Is this our era's prince?"
Yumi whispered back, "I feel like Kyoto grew a model and sent him here."
Riko's heart tried to escape her chest.
"You... you cut your hair," she somehow managed.
He raised an eyebrow.
"You told me your mother is serious. It seemed appropriate."
Riko blinked rapidly, brain cells fighting for oxygen.
She expected quiet long-haired mysterious programmer. Not handsome-devil-who-looks-like-he-owns-a-coffee-brand energy.
She bowed too fast and hit the table with her forehead.
"Ow— I mean thank you— I mean sorry— welcome— please don't be handsome like this during the dinner—"
Kaito stared.
Aya whispered, "You're dying in front of him. Stop."
Yumi nodded. "Smile. Not like a hostage. Softer."
Riko tried to smile. It looked like pain mixed with admiration and panic.
Kaito looked at her friends, slightly confused. Then at Riko.
"Shall we practice?"
Riko nodded, still in shock.
She thought she had dragged a tired coder into her life.
Turns out she'd accidentally acquired a drama protagonist.
Her heart whispered very quietly:
This is going to be a problem.