By the time they stepped out of the movie theater, the sky had long since faded into an inky black, and the glow of streetlamps flickered to life, casting soft halos of light onto the bustling streets.
Even in a slightly less crowded area of Tokyo, the city never truly slept. The night was alive—not with the energy of carefree youth, but with the weary footsteps of overworked salarymen trudging their way into izakayas, drowning their exhaustion in cheap drinks and mutual grievances.
Without even trying to listen, Kanade could pick up snippets of their conversations drifting through the air.
"Lately, my wife's been dressing up more… even started locking her phone. You think she's cheating?"
"You checked her phone?"
"No, I just happened to notice… but still, it seems kinda suspicious, right?"
"Yeah, probably cheating."
"Hah… I thought so. But even if she is, isn't it my fault? I'm always working, day in, day out…"
"Oi, don't start blaming yourself."
"Man, I work unpaid overtime, play golf with clients on my days off, and on the rare occasion I get home early… I don't even wanna go back. I just come here and drink with you instead. So what am I even working for…?"
"You good, man? Ah—excuse me, another round of shochu over here!"
"Sigh…"
It was… tragic, really. The kind of sadness that lingered in the air, heavy and oppressive.
Kanade hadn't intended to eavesdrop, but the izakaya was right next to the takoyaki stand where he and Utaha were lined up, so it was impossible not to hear.
A part of him—somewhere deep in his soul—winced in sympathy for the poor guy.
"Jeez… he just met the wrong woman, that's all."
Utaha's voice cut through the moment, cool yet firm.
Kanade turned to glance at her. Her arms were crossed, and she had an almost… indignant look in her eyes.
"Not all girls are like that," she continued. "There are plenty of women who are devoted. Absolutely, unequivocally, one hundred percent loyal."
…Was she directing that at him?
Before he could even think of a response, she added, "Besides, I already earn more in royalties than most people's salaries. So even if it ever came down to it, I could easily support a family myself."
Her voice was casual, but the way she looked at him—expectant, waiting—made it clear. She wasn't just making a general statement.
Kanade blinked.
So… was she flexing her financial independence right now?
She leaned in slightly, as if urging him to say something, anything.
But before he could come up with an appropriate response, a familiar, teasing warmth brushed against his ear.
Once again, she had blown a soft breath right against it.
Kanade flinched, instinctively shrinking his shoulders. "Yes, yes, of course. After all, Senpai is a once-in-a-century beautiful young light novelist."
He recited the title as if it were a rehearsed mantra, something he had heard (and been forced to acknowledge) countless times before.
Utaha Kasumigaoka: "..."
That… was not the response she wanted.
In fact, she had briefly entertained the fantasy that he might say something like 'Then please take care of me, Senpai. I humbly entrust my future to you!' or even just acknowledge her devotion with a bit more enthusiasm.
But no. This guy just parroted back her self-proclaimed title without missing a beat.
Well, fine. She'd take what she could get. At least he wasn't disagreeing.
Before the conversation could continue, it was finally their turn in line.
Since they were planning to eat at a restaurant later, they opted for a small serving of takoyaki—just five pieces. They got lucky and didn't have to wait for a fresh batch; the vendor handed them a steaming-hot serving straight from the grill.
"Do you want to eat them now?" Utaha licked her lips, inhaling the mouthwatering aroma that filled the air.
Kanade glanced at her eager expression and sighed. This woman… she's already made up her mind.
"Let's find a quieter spot first."
Without waiting for a response, he led her to a more secluded corner away from the crowd.
As he unwrapped the packaging, Kanade did something that caught Utaha slightly off guard.
He took his chopsticks and carefully poked small holes in two of the takoyaki balls before handing them to her.
She stared at them for a moment, puzzled.
"This'll help them cool down faster," Kanade explained casually. "But they're probably still hot, so don't just bite into them."
Utaha blinked.
He… remembered?
He actually remembered?
It wasn't a huge thing. Just a small detail—how she was sensitive to hot food, how she hated burning her tongue. But he had noticed. He had remembered.
And for some reason, that small gesture hit her harder than any grand romantic declaration ever could.
The teasing remark she had originally prepared—something about 'Ah, Junior, feeding me already? How bold~'—died in her throat.
She had always known Kanade was observant—attentive, even. But it had been a long time since she had seen this side of him. Lately, his actions had felt more like polite detachment, the kind of distance someone carefully constructs after certain… situations.
But now?
Now, it seemed like her efforts were actually paying off. Maybe, just maybe, they were starting to interact like they used to.
"Couldn't you just be a bit more direct and feed me?" she asked, her voice laced with a teasing lilt, testing the waters.
Kanade shot her an unimpressed look. "I'd like you to feed me," he retorted, irritation evident in his tone.
Was it just her, or was he growing increasingly exasperated with her laziness today?
"That's absolutely no problem." Utaha kept her expression neutral, as if she hadn't just gotten exactly what she wanted. "To show my sincerity, let me start."
She delicately picked up one of the takoyaki he had so thoughtfully poked earlier, leaned in slightly, and blew on it, her breath gentle as she tried to cool it down.
From Kanade's perspective, the whole thing looked like a scene straight out of a shoujo anime.
His senior, holding a piece of takoyaki, her soft lips slightly parted, her breath warm as she carefully fanned the heat away—
And then, in the very next moment—
A shower of takoyaki toppings flew straight into his face.
Kanade: "…"
Utaha: "…"
The silence stretched between them.
Utaha blinked, mentally replaying what had just happened. She could swear she hadn't done that on purpose. Who knew such a small breath could send the bonito flakes, sauce, and mayonnaise flying like confetti?
"Would you believe me if I said I didn't do that on purpose?" she asked, voice tinged with forced innocence.
Kanade wiped his face with the back of his hand and let out a long, suffering sigh. Then, in the flattest, most emotionless voice imaginable, he replied,
"Oh, of course. I believe you. How could I not believe you?"
And with that, he aggressively leaned forward, biting into the takoyaki she was still holding.
Hard.
Almost violently.
As if he were venting every ounce of frustration he had accumulated in the past few minutes onto that one poor piece of octopus-filled dough.
Utaha watched him chew with an intensity rarely seen outside of a shonen battle scene, and for some reason, the only thought that crossed her mind was—
He's so cute.
Even when he was angry, he looked ridiculously good.
Honestly, she should feel bad. She should apologize.
But instead, she found herself thinking—this wasn't a bad development, was it? Even if her plan had completely backfired, at least she got to see an entertaining reaction.
By the time Kanade swallowed, he had apparently decided that turnabout was fair play. Without hesitation, he snatched the chopsticks from her hand, picked up another piece of takoyaki, and moved in closer.
His sudden movement caught Utaha off guard, and she instinctively squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for revenge.
Was he about to smear it all over her face?
Would she be baptized in takoyaki toppings, just as he had been?!
Seconds passed.
…Nothing happened.
Hesitantly, she peeked one eye open—
Only to find Kanade staring at her with an infuriatingly smug smirk, not moving an inch.
"…"
How mean-spirited!
Utaha puffed out her cheeks slightly, huffing at his obvious fake-out.
But still—this kind of development?
She liked it very much.