“Don’t be a spectator. Even if you have to play the clown, get on the stage.” (Author unknown)

1

Keeeng-kooong, kaaang-kooong…

The chime echoed through the school building on the first day of the new semester. Third-period start bell.

First and second periods had already been used for the opening ceremony and class assignments.

From today, the class I was in charge of as homeroom teacher was this second-year liberal-arts course class at Tsukishima High School.

Third year as a high school teacher; first time as homeroom teacher.

Somewhere inside I felt anxious whether I could pull it off, but I slid open the door and stepped into the noisy classroom.

The students scattered to their seats.

Of course, we weren’t about to start a battle royale, nor would they lock onto me after “Stand, bow!”

Some were students I’d taught last year, and we’d already done the face-reveal in the auditorium—so it wasn’t completely new, but I was still nervous.

Standing at the lectern in the now-silent classroom, I told myself to calm down and began my greeting.

“Um, some of you I’ve already taught, but there are also first-timers, so let me introduce myself. As was announced in the auditorium, starting today I’ll be the homeroom teacher for class 2-B—”

I’d never been good at speaking in front of people.

Back during teaching practicum, and even when I first came to this school, I was stiff as a board and stumbled over words constantly.

But three years in, you get used to it.

I turned my back to the students and wrote my name on the whiteboard.

Finished, I faced them again.

“—Kizaki Shūgo. I’ll be counting on you for the next year.”

Clap-clap-clap…

Seems the opener went okay.

I relaxed for a moment when,

“Yes, yes!” One male student raised his hand without being called.

He stood up on his own and asked,

“Sensei, do you have a girlfriend?”

That opened the floodgates.

“What are your hobbies!?”

“Do you play any mobile games?”

“Favorite manga!? Anime!? What say you, ninja-style!?”

Questions came flying one after another.

Yana once said marriage-hunting is a battlefield, but school is definitely a battlefield too.

And the opponents are high schoolers.

Some boys are taller than my average-Japanese-male 170-ish cm, and some girls no longer look like “girls” but full-grown women. Mentally, too, plenty seem more mature than me.

Compared to what I thought when I was their age, a mid-20s guy really isn’t that different from high schoolers—including mentally. Dealing with them was far from easy.

Still, I know how to handle it.

“I may not be an idol, but getting bombarded with private-life questions one after another is tough. You’ll learn about me little by little later. For now, let me learn a bit about you guys. Self-introduction time.”

“Ehhh—” groans and boos of “Boooo!” rang out.

Pushing through, I made the students start their introductions.

Just over thirty in total.

Some gave long intros, some short.

When all that finished and I was explaining the rest of the day’s schedule, the third-period end bell rang.

Next, fourth period: hand out textbooks, do seating changes, and the day ends.

Since class reps hadn’t been chosen yet, I appointed the student in the rightmost row, first seat, as greeting leader—attendance number 1, Aizawa-san. She’d been in my modern Japanese class last year too, and she’s in track & field. A bright, clear-voiced girl—she’ll do great.

“Yes, sir!”

Aizawa-san stood and gave an energetic, club-athlete reply.

Then,

“Stand—bow!”

“Thank you very much!” rang out in unison, and the first homeroom ended.

“Oh, right—one more thing. Starting from the person after Aizawa-san—Ayase-san—ten students in attendance-number order. When the fourth-period pre-bell rings, come to the staff meeting room next to the faculty office. You’ll carry textbooks.”

Naturally, complaints like “Why us?” rose up. Of course I expected that.

“I get the grumbling, but we’ve got a whole year ahead with tons to do. Everyone will have some classroom duties eventually. Anyway, those ten—thanks in advance.”

2

“Kizaki-sensei, here’s some tea.”

Back in the faculty office after leaving the classroom, the moment I sat down, the slightly-senior, fluffy-haired beauty Kinumozaka-sensei brought me tea.

“Thank you. Sorry to trouble you.”

“It’s fine. Entrance ceremony is tomorrow, so I’m free today.”

“Ah, right…”

Kinumozaka-sensei is in charge of the incoming first-years, so no classes today.

“How was your first homeroom?”

“Definitely nervous. About the same as teaching practicum, or my very first day at this school, or my first lesson ever.”

“True, the first time as homeroom teacher probably feels like that.”

Kinumozaka-sensei smiled softly when—“Ugh, my shoulders are stiff,” said Kato-sensei, rolling his neck with audible cracks as he returned to the office.

“Good work, Kato-sensei. I’ll make tea now.”

“Ah, thank you, Kinumozaka-sensei.”

While preparing tea, Kinumozaka-sensei continued.

“We were just talking about how it’s Kizaki-sensei’s first time as homeroom teacher. How about you, Kato-sensei? The new students?”

“Uh… haha. Well, third-years are pretty tense. Might be because I mentioned university entrance exams.”

She let out a bright laugh.

“Well, I am a P.E. teacher, after all. Everyone probably thinks I’m clueless about entrance exams and future planning—and honestly, they’re not wrong…”

“True, third-year homeroom teachers have way more to worry about than other grades. It’s tough. Here you go.”

Ms. Kumozaka handed him some tea.

“But in exchange, you get to share their joy and see them off on their new journeys. The emotions hit different. If you ever have any trouble, feel free to ask me—I’ve got one year of third-year homeroom experience under my belt.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am! Of course!”

Katō-sensei’s face turned bright red as he answered.

For the record, Ms. Kumozaka had just finished sending off her first group of third-years last year.

The three of us—despite all being in charge of liberal-arts classes—kept chatting about the differences between liberal-arts and science tracks, and before we knew it, the pre-bell for fourth period (the last class of the day) rang.

“Whoa, already that time?”

Katō-sensei stood up with a little grunt.

“The kids are probably here already.”

He glanced toward the staff-room entrance, and sure enough, students were trickling in.

“Textbook distribution, right? I can help.”

“Really?! Thank you so much!”

Katō-sensei looked overjoyed.

After promising to help Ms. Kumozaka’s class with textbook distribution tomorrow, the three of us left through the back door of the staff room and headed to the faculty meeting room next door, which was serving as today’s distribution point.

The hallway in front of the meeting room was already packed with students. Some teachers had started handing out books early. The moment we began setting up, Katō-sensei’s students swarmed us.

While the three of us were busy passing out textbooks, my own students showed up too. The first to speak were the baseball duo—two guys from the team.

“Yo, Kizaki, textbooks, hurry up~”

“Don’t call your homeroom teacher by his last name!”

I grumbled and handed a stack to one of them.

“Here you go. Don’t drop them,” Ms. Kumozaka said gently, slipping past me to hand the other baseball guy his books.

In that instant, her hair swayed softly and brushed past my nose.

A sweet, heart-racing fragrance drifted over.

“Th-thank you so much!!”

Both baseball guys were instantly smitten. And of course my boys weren’t the only ones—I could hear girls whispering too:

“Ms. Kumozaka is so pretty~” “She’s totally fluent in English, right? Since she teaches it.” “I wish she was our homeroom teacher…” “Same~”

I had zero objections. I’d rather have her as my homeroom teacher too. Any student would be happier receiving books from her than from me.

Still, as their actual homeroom teacher, I couldn’t just stand there.

“Come on, quit chatting and take your books. And—Katō-sensei! Katō-sensei!”

“Huh…!?”

“What are you spacing out for?”

“S-sorry, sorry!”

Katō-sensei had very obviously been staring at Ms. Kumozaka, completely entranced.

“Here you go, Katō-sensei.”

“Ms. Kumozaka—th-thank you!!”

Total lovestruck mode.

We continued handing out textbooks together.

We finished the eighth student, but I had called ten. The two remaining girls were tasked with helping carry the handouts back to class.

On the way to the classroom with those two—

“Senseiii, got a sec?”

One of the girls—grinning mischievously—was Uzaki Reina from my class, arms full of printouts. Long, beautifully dyed blonde hair, uniform fashionably disheveled—the quintessential JK gyaru.

“W-what…?”

She’s the type who teases teachers without a second thought, and I’ve never been good with that. I answered warily.

She leaned in close to my ear and whispered—pretty loudly, actually:

“Did you see Katō-sensei earlier? He was totally melting over Ms. Kumozaka. Does he have a crush on her or what?”

“Wh—”

Bullseye.

And way too loud for a “whisper.”

Good thing Katō-sensei wasn’t nearby.

“Sakucchi, you thought the same, right? You did, didn’t you?”

She turned to the girl walking beside us for backup.

“Sakucchi” was the nickname for the other girl carrying printouts—Ayase Sakura (a.k.a. Ayase-san). In total contrast to Uzaki, she had long black hair in low twin tails, glasses, and gave off serious literary-girl vibes—quiet, refined, the very picture of a good girl.

“Uh… um… maybe…?”

“See? Sakucchi thought so too!”

The gyaru-esque Uzaki and the bookish Ayase-san seemed like total opposites, yet they were clearly close.

Then Uzaki turned back to me.

“So, Kizaki-sensei, what do you think? You know anything?”

“Know anything about what…?”

“About how Katō-sensei feels about Ms. Kumozaka! Or wait—don’t tell me you’re into her too, Sensei?! She’s insanely pretty. Half the guys in school are legit in love with her.”

“No, that’s—”

“Ahaha! Sensei, your face is bright red! So you’re the shy type with girls? Wait—are you a virgin? Katō-sensei totally gives off that vibe too!”

“Hey, hey, you can’t just throw the word ‘virgin’ around like that. High school girls shouldn’t use it so casually. You’re making Ayase-san uncomfortable.”

I glanced at Ayase-san—she was smiling awkwardly.

“Well, compared to Katō-sensei, I feel like Kizaki-sensei could get a girlfriend pretty easily. You’ve actually got a cute face when you look closely. Why don’t you try a matching app? You’d probably get a girlfriend in no time!”

“Wha…”

“Ahaha, Sensei, why’re you so flustered? So cute~♡”

“You little…”

(…Katō-sensei, they’ve totally seen through you. Me too, apparently…)

All I could do was laugh bitterly inside.

High school gyarus are terrifying.

I genuinely felt that from the bottom of my heart.

3

A little over a week since the new term started. A little over a week since my TWINS photos and ID were approved.

At first I just browsed women’s profiles. You can’t message unless you both “Like” each other, so I wasn’t really experiencing the true appeal of a matching app yet.

It felt no different from flipping through a baseball almanac, a soccer yearbook, or a voice actress directory.

But after a while, I started getting “Like” notifications—tons of them.

Among them were a few profiles that caught my eye, so I mustered my courage and liked them back. Connections happened fast.

(This app is insane… Maybe I’ve actually got a shot?)

I even started wondering if I was secretly made for matching apps.

Turns out—no, I wasn’t.

Forget dates; most conversations ended before three exchanges. Gradually even the “Likes” stopped coming.

I still hadn’t tasted the real thrill of the app.

Confused and wondering what I was doing wrong, I asked Hakamada over LINE.

He told me that right after making an account, there’s a “newbie boost”—your profile gets shown more, so you get a flood of “Likes.” Basically, people who’ll like anyone are throwing them out left and right.

In other words, I’d gotten cocky over nothing.

“Don’t think just because you signed up you’ll instantly find someone great,” the master lectured the shocked, foolish me. “The marriage market is a battlefield. The most important thing is to never give up. If you don’t give up, a path will open—just like it did for me.”

So I kept pressing “Like” without giving up.

A few people liked me back. But just like at the beginning, most conversations died after about three messages.

Honestly, I still hadn’t tasted the true joy of the app.

Then one day, on my way home from school, I stopped at the Matsuya near the station for the limited-time “Goro-Goro Chicken Curry.” While I was eating, my phone went ping-ping-ping-ping in rapid succession.

I figured it was the faculty LINE group, a message from an old college friend, a gacha game notice, or breaking news.

But when I checked—TWINS notifications.

A user named “Sakuran” had “Liked” my profile.

My heart went thump.

Sakuran—if written in kanji, that’s “錯乱” (derangement), which sounds kinda dangerous… but it’s gotta be “Sakura,” right? Definitely.

(Wait… did I like her first?)

I had no memory of it, which meant she’d seen my profile and liked me first.

It had been a while since a woman made the first move.

I was happy. Excited.

Who was this Sakuran person?

Was she pretty?

The words “fated encounter” started dancing in my head.

At the same time, the self-deprecating part of my brain whispered: anyone who likes my profile can’t possibly be normal. Don’t get your hopes up.

The conversation will probably die immediately anyway.

I was still eating, so I told myself I’d check calmly later—but of course I couldn’t stay calm.

I shoveled the curry down with water, paid, and the moment I stepped outside I tapped the notification.

I opened Sakuran’s profile.

And the instant I saw the thumbnail next to her name—thump—my heart pounded again.

Soft, wavy, slightly brownish hair. An innocent-looking expression. She looked like she’d smell amazing.

She… kinda resembled Ms. Kumozaka.

“This is… Sakuran…?”

Right in my strike zone.

A real beauty had liked me?

(Wait a second.)

Then it hit me.

If her real name was “Sakura”…

Sakura → “Sakura” (fake account)!

This had to be a bot.

A trap sent by the admins to keep a hopeless guy like me hooked.

Part of me thought, I’m not falling for that crap—

But…

My finger moved on its own and scrolled through her profile.

Two years younger than me—perfect age gap.

Single, of course. “When to marry?” → “Discuss with partner.” Same as me.

Lives in Tokyo too.

And in her free-form intro: “Currently studying to become a preschool teacher.” Apparently loves kids.

I’d listed myself as “civil servant” instead of “teacher,” so they didn’t target me because of the kid connection.

If anything, this was a miracle.

“Preschool teacher” and “teacher”—couldn’t be more perfect.

Her hobbies: “Reading manga and watching anime.”

Again, perfect match.

She’d joined communities for series I love—tons of shonen titles I’m into.

Was this… actually a fated encounter?

Convinced, I hit the “Like” button without hesitation.

Mutual “Like.”

Now we could message.

(Alright… what do I say…?)

Even though she liked me first, the guy should probably send the opener.

I didn’t want to screw this up like the others.

I googled “matching app first message” on the spot. Planned to ask AI when I got home.

Then, after I got home and changed, my phone chimed again.

This time my heart pounded even harder than when I saw her photo or the “Like” notification.

【You have a new message from Sakuran】

All that worrying about my opener was pointless. I hadn’t even asked AI yet. Didn’t matter anymore.

(What did she say…?)

I flopped onto my bed, heart racing, and opened the message.

Hi, I’m Sakuran! I’m pretty new to the app too, and we have overlapping favorite manga, so I thought maybe it’s fate ♡ I hope we can get along!

She even added a little sticker of a girl bowing.

(Fate—!!)

Same exact thought I’d had.

Meeting someone with the same tastes and my exact type? That almost never happens in real life. This really was a fated encounter.

Matching apps are terrifying (in a good way)!

I immediately started typing a reply.

Thank you for the message! I’m really happy! I took a look at your profile too—

My fingers stopped.

I hesitated: should I mention I’m a teacher? It’s private info, maybe too soon. But I wanted to give her a connection—and that’s part of why it felt like fate…

(Yeah, let’s do it!)

I’m not naming the school, so it’s fine.

It says “civil servant” on my profile, but actually I’m a teacher and work with kids every day. I’m truly happy to connect with someone aiming for a similar job. I thought it might be fate too.

A little embarrassing, but I used the word “fate” just like she did.

(But this is just me talking about myself…)

Conversations had died before because of that. So I searched “matching app reply tips for guys.”

Every strategy site said the same thing: “Ask questions so it’s easy for her to reply—that’s the secret to keeping the conversation going.” Even AI would say that. Made sense.

You wrote that you like shonen manga— what titles or anime do you love? I often talk with my students about the detective anime that airs on Sundays. I’d be happy if you replied!

I picked a safe series she’d listed that I genuinely like too. The message felt a bit long and stiff—like a letter.

But pen-pal letters back in the day were probably like this.

If it flops, it flops. I’ll learn for next time.

I took a deep breath and hit send.

Would this raise her impression of me? Or lower it?

It felt like playing a galge, except no saves, no reloads, no retries. No “correct answer revealed after the commercial.”

To distract myself, I started watching anime while grinding my gacha game’s event.

The opening ended, and just a few minutes in—ping.

(It’s here…! From Sakuran!)

I opened it and sighed in relief.

She listed titles I love too. The conversation flowed—we ended up exchanging five more messages. A new personal record.

It felt like talking to a guy friend with perfect taste overlap.

Which of course made the suspicion creep back in.

(…She’s totally a bot, isn’t she?)

Even though we’re still in the free-message range, once you go over a certain number the guy has to pay extra. The more we talk, the more the company earns.

But no way a bot would choose the nickname “Sakuran,” right?

(Or… wait…)

On the contrary—if someone called it out, they could just say, “Look, it says ‘sakura’ right there!”

(I can’t tell anymore!)

Quick search: opinions on TWINS bots were split 50/50. Big apps wouldn’t risk that these days… supposedly.

Before I knew it, it was 11 p.m.

I have school tomorrow—time to sleep.

A little sad, but I sent a “good night” message and ended the conversation.

(I really hope Sakuran isn’t a bot…)

And I fell asleep wishing the messages would keep going—and maybe, just maybe, we could meet in person someday.

4

The next morning, when I woke up, there was already a message from Sakuran.

Good morning! Good luck at work! I’ll do my best at my part-time job too!

A message that instantly brightened my whole day. And new info I didn’t know.

(So Sakuran has a part-time job…)

Learning something new made me weirdly happy. This one message convinced me 100% that she wasn’t a bot. No way a bot would bother sending good-morning texts.

Good luck!

I sent back.

I’ll do my best too! Good luck today, Shuu-san!

Came the instant reply. …This feeling is nice. (What is this…?)

After that, we messaged every single day. Three times a day—sometimes four, five, six. It already felt like I had a girlfriend. The days started sparkling more than ever. I’d get impatient waiting for new messages. Checking my phone during breaks at the staff room became the highlight of my day.

Two weeks flew by like that—just about to enter Golden Week.

Friday night. The movie from last Golden Week—the previous entry in the detective anime series whose new film was opening next week—was being broadcast on TV as promotion. Sakuran was watching the exact same program and said she was excited for the new one.

(This is my chance, right?)

I could naturally invite her: “Want to go together?” Golden Week made scheduling easy on my end.

“Don’t be a spectator. Even if you look like a clown, get on the stage.” A famous quote Hakamada heard on TV that made him start the app.

(He’s right—if I don’t take a step forward, nothing will happen.)

I’d rather take her myself than let some other sketchy guy snatch her. “Act like you’re the one who’ll protect her,” his senior at the junior high had told him. NTR is the worst possible outcome.

So I gathered my courage and sent:

If you’d like, would you go see it with me?

The most heart-pounding moment I’d ever experienced on the app. The movie on TV was completely forgotten.

(What if she says no…?)

Would all our fun conversations turn to nothing?

If she already had plans with a friend, at least the fun wouldn’t end completely.

“Ah!”

An instant reply from Sakuran.

Judgment time.

I swallowed hard and opened it— My whole body shook with joy. It had been so long since I felt like this.

I was just about to ask the same thing! Yes, please!

Followed by an adorable whale sticker saying “Nice to meet you!”

I sent back a cute mascot sticker popular with girls: “Same here!”

Next—date and time. And maybe dinner afterward…

Before I could type, another message arrived.

How about the last day of Golden Week? I’m a little busy until then… And there’s a restaurant I really want to try. Want to have dinner too?

I was planning to invite her to dinner, and she beat me to it. Movie + dinner = full-on date.

The last day of GW worked perfectly for me. I’d vaguely planned drinks with Hakamada and Yana, but Hakamada had to visit Hiro-chan’s parents for wedding stuff, so my schedule was basically empty.

Which restaurant? If it takes reservations, I’ll book it.

Time to show I can escort properly.

Really?! This one!

Came the excited reply with a link.

Stylish Western restaurant, tons of courses. One in particular caught my eye: “Couples Course.” “For couples we recommend the Couples Course! Better value than others!!”

But isn’t that a bit much for a first date…? Before I could overthink it—

The “Couples Course” on the menu looks like the best deal. Shall we do that?

—she wrote first.

“This is basically lovers already!”

I actually shouted it out loud and flopped backward onto my bed, phone still in hand. The TV movie? Long forgotten.

(Calm down, me…)

But suggesting dinner and the Couples Course right away… Is this normal for her? Or is she super into me?

She’s gorgeous—of course she has tons of experience…

(I don’t even know what normal adult dating looks like…)

Maybe this is just how matching apps work?

But if Sakuran is fine with the Couples Course, then I’m fine with it.

I told her the menu looked delicious and I really wanted to go. She was thrilled. We settled on time, booked the movie (adjacent seats, of course), and I reserved the restaurant.

I was already nervous.

And then—time passed.

Golden Week last day. The day of the date had finally arrived!

5

Date day. Golden Week final afternoon. I stood in front of Shibuya’s Hachiko statue—one of the most famous meeting spots in Tokyo. Surrounded by crowds of young people, I waited restlessly for one woman. The person I’d been messaging non-stop throughout Golden Week.

Almost time. I checked her profile photo again on my phone, then scanned the crowd. Suddenly—tap tap—someone poked my back with their finger.

“Shuu-san… right?”

A cute voice, exactly as I’d imagined.

I turned around.

“Ah, it really is Shuu-san!”

She opened her right hand wide in greeting.

“Nice to meet you in person. I’m Sakura.”

An absolutely dazzling smile. But the “Sakuran” in front of me looked… way younger than her profile picture. In fact—

(There’s no way she’s twenty-three…)

I screamed internally. Her face looked far more innocent than the photo, and the aura she gave off was exactly like the high school girls I teach every day.

Photo editing. Photoshop. Filter magic. Those words flashed through my mind.

(Age fraud for sugar dating…?)

But TWINS requires ID submission. That would mean forged documents. Or… a younger sister using her account…?

She must have noticed my confusion.

“Is something wrong?”

“Uh, no, it’s just… you look a lot younger than in the app photos…”

I answered honestly without thinking. For a split second, her eyes narrowed and she glared at me—almost angrily—but it vanished instantly.

“Ahaha, is that flattery? Thank you. I do get told I look childish a lot.”

She laughed, but… something still felt off. Like she was mad.

“N-no, not at all! For a second I honestly thought ‘Wait, is this her little sister…?’”

“Ahaha. You’re funny, Shuu-san. I don’t have a little sister.”

“O-oh, right. Ahahaha…”

Her smile never wavered. My face, meanwhile, twitched into an awkward grin.

(This is bad… really bad…)

Total foot-in-mouth on the first minute. Maybe age and looks are a complex for her.

I’ll never mention it again.

First priority: change the subject.

“S-so, shall we head to the cinema?”

That was the only thing I could think of, but she went along with it. Damage control… successful? At least the date hadn’t ended instantly. I breathed a silent sigh of relief.

▼　▼　▼

Walking side by side with Sakuran through the crowded streets, shoulders almost brushing. The last time I walked like this with a girl was middle school. That “girlfriend” (if she even counted) naturally faded away, but she’s still the only one I’ve ever had. I remember going to the movies once or twice back then, but I was so nervous I barely remember anything.

I’m still nervous now—palms sweaty. I’m supposed to be an adult; I need to get used to this or I’ll never get a girlfriend, let alone a wife… (I deal with girls at school every day—if I just think of her as a student, I’ll be fine…!)

But that thought instantly made me feel like I was doing something wrong. Probably because she looks so young. If any teacher or student saw me like this, the rumors would be insane. Absolutely cannot let that happen.

(No one who knows me is here… right…?)

I kept glancing around nervously, but we reached the cinema without incident.

The lobby was packed too, but no familiar faces. Relieved, Sakuran spoke up.

“Can I buy the pamphlet?”

I nodded, and she dashed off—tap tap tap—to the merch corner. The line was short; she was back in no time.

“You’re the type who buys pamphlets?”

“I like reading them, and they become keepsakes. Every time I look at it, I’ll remember coming here with you today.”

She smiled shyly—ehehe ♡

(What is this girl… she’s way too cute.)

Everything—the words, the embarrassed expression—was unbearably adorable. My heart went kyun.

“Then I’ll buy one too.”

I suddenly wanted a memento of today.

“In that case, I’ll get the drinks. What would you like, Shuu-san? I’ll grab them.”

I checked the menu.

“Umm… orange juice. Small, please.”

I picked the smallest size so I wouldn’t need the bathroom mid-movie. Two hours is a long time—I’d already checked the runtime. Leaving would ruin her focus and tank my impression.

“I’ll be right back. We can settle up later♪”

She jogged off to the food counter.

I bought a pamphlet—line was empty, instant purchase. The drink counter had a longer line; she was still waiting. Just as her turn came, about ten meters away. I stayed put so I wouldn’t get in the way.

Soon she returned, one drink in each hand.

“Sorry to keep you waiting!”

“What did you get?”

“Melon soda! You can only get it in places like this—it feels rare, so I always crave it.”

She’s right—movie theaters and fast food are basically the only places.

“Sometimes they sell limited-edition bottles, but the taste here is different anyway.”

She took a sip through the straw.

“Mmm~ ♪ So good!”

Cheeks puffed, hand on cheek—this must be what “looks like it’ll melt with happiness” means. If a girl like this were my girlfriend, every day would be paradise.

We headed to our theater and took our reserved seats side by side.

“This is going to be so much fun!”

“Y-yeah…”

Sitting next to a girl watching a movie—hadn’t done this since I was a student. The lights dimmed, trailers ended, and the feature began.

I was supposed to focus on the film, but Sakuran beside me was too distracting.

(No good… gotta concentrate…)

We were supposed to discuss the movie over dinner later. If I didn’t pay attention, I’d have nothing to say and it’d be obvious I zoned out. Impression = destroyed.

(Concentrate… concentrate…)

I kept telling myself, but I was hyper-aware of my own breathing, and above all—kept sneaking glances at her.

Of course, unlike me, she was completely absorbed, face changing with every scene. Cute. The embodiment of cute. No other words.

Cute. Cute. Cute.

But this wasn’t the time—I forced my eyes to the screen.

Still, moments later I’d glance again. Repeated that cycle until we hit the middle of the film.

By then I’d calmed down a bit, and with the story heating up, I finally got immersed in the second half.

Nearly two hours later, the movie ended on a moving high note.

6

“That was amazing! Especially the climax car chase! Oh—Shuu-san, did you figure out who the culprit was halfway through? I—”

The second we left the theater, Sakuran launched into full spoiler mode, bouncing like an excited kid. Adorable doesn’t even begin to cover it.

But—

“Um, Sakuran… there are lots of people around, and talking about the culprit…”

“Ah…!”

She clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Sorry! How embarrassing. There are still people who haven’t seen it—spoilers are bad. Let’s save the discussion for the restaurant.”

Cheeks red, super embarrassed.

We started walking to the stylish Western restaurant she’d picked.

As we got close, a little kid clutching a toy airplane came zooming past yelling “Vrooom!” Probably kindergarten to lower elementary age. Another kid—clearly his brother from the face—was chasing him.

Not important.

What happened next—

The kid holding the airplane wasn’t looking ahead. And right in his path—me.

“Shuu-sa—”

I caught the tiny body as he crashed into me, but clatter—the toy plane hit the floor.

“Kenta! Yūta!”

A woman in her early thirties came running over, clearly their mother, bowing apologetically.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

I picked up the plane. It looked undamaged.

“You two, apologize to the nice man.”

“S-sorry…”

“Sorry…”

The boys bowed, looking properly scolded.

“Here you go. Looks like it’s not broken.”

I handed it to the original owner. His face lit up.

“Thank you, big brother!”

I ruffled his hair.

“It’s dangerous outside. When you play, look where you’re going, okay?”

“Okay!”

We exchanged a few more thank-yous and apologies with the mom, then headed inside the restaurant.

The bell chimed, European music played, and the interior was stylish as promised. Lots of guests, but the price point kept it classy and quiet—perfect date spot, just like the reviews said.

We told the host we had a reservation. A young waiter in a tuxedo led us to our table.

After water was poured:

“Will the reserved Couples Course be fine?”

Couples Course.

My heart thumped again. First time sitting across from a woman in a place like this.

Sakura smiled elegantly.

“Yes, please.”

She looked completely at home—like a proper lady. Totally different from the childish vibe earlier.

“And for drinks?”

“Uh…”

I fumbled with the drink menu.

(Wait, ladies first—)

I slid it toward her, but—

“I’m fine for now,” she said, letting me go first.

(What do I do…?)

I’d planned to match whatever she ordered.

“S-Sakura-san… do you drink alcohol…?”

The waiter also glanced at her—he must have been wondering about her age too.

She gave an apologetic smile.

“I’m not good with alcohol. Please feel free to drink if you’d like, Shuu-san.”

Drink or not drink.

Matching her seemed polite, but one drink might calm my nerves. I like alcohol, and one glass wouldn’t get me drunk. A little courage could only help.

“Then just one glass of champagne, please.”

“Certainly.”

Sakura picked up the menu I’d left.

“I’ll have the non-alcoholic champagne, then.”

“Champagne and non-alcoholic champagne. Coming right up.”

The waiter bowed and left.

“Did you… match me on purpose?”

“I thought it’d be nice to have the same thing. Mine has no alcohol, though.”

“Oh… I see…”

Her thoughtfulness made me stupidly happy.

“Oh, right!” She clapped her hands together. “You were so cool earlier. Total teacher vibes—super natural.”

“R-really…? Well, I do teach high school…”

I let it slip, but no point hiding it.

“High school? When I was in elementary school, I had the biggest crush on my teacher. He was really kind… and you kind of remind me of him—”

Her cheeks flushed. My heart raced so hard I could hear it.

(This has to mean she’s really into me, right…?)

Calm down, me.

“Haha… kids get crushes like that in elementary school, don’t they?”

She blinked in surprise.

“Only elementary? Not high school? No students confessing to you or anything…?”

“Nope. My students just tease me nonstop.”

“But you seem like you’d be popular…”

“Not at all.”

Just the other day they were calling me a virgin.

If anyone’s popular, it’s you, Sakura-san…

“Ahaha, no way. My part-time job is all women, I went to a women’s college… zero chances to meet guys. Doesn’t your school have any young single female teachers?”

“Well… there are some, but they’re not really… dating options… That’s kind of why I started TWINS… ahaha.”

I left out that one of them is beautiful and looks a bit like her, and that a colleague is in love with her. Felt wrong to mention.

“Then,” she continued, “what kind of person do you like?”

Time stopped.

Critical hit. Future-altering question.

(Do I say “someone like you”…?)

My otaku friends liked quiet literary girls. But I never felt I could talk to those types.

I liked girls who approached me first, who made me feel like I had a chance. That’s how my only middle-school relationship happened—even if it ended quickly. That failure left scars.

But I can’t trauma-dump on a first date.

“…Someone easy to talk to, I guess.”

Vague, but the best I could do.

She didn’t look disappointed.

“How about me? Am I easy to talk to?”

“Y-yes! Very…!”

“Fufu~ ♡ Good.”

She beamed. Conversation saved—thanks to her.

“I like kind people. You scored major points earlier ♡”

“Ahaha…”

Embarrassing, but happy.

“I started TWINS because I wasn’t meeting anyone either. Friends have found boyfriends that way…”

“Same here.”

Champagne arrived, pausing the love talk.

“Shall we toast?”

“Yes.”

We lifted our glasses.

““Cheers!””

Clink.

Felt so adult.

The movie discussion that followed was pure college-club energy—super lively. The food was delicious. I had an amazing time with Sakura.

7

“That really was delicious.”

“I’m glad you liked it! I’d have felt bad if my pick wasn’t to your taste.”

Walking side by side toward the station after leaving the restaurant.

“Oh, right—thank you for the meal!”

“Don’t worry about it. I wanted to treat you.”

I’d paid for dinner, just like the dating strategy sites recommended. Apparently it increases chances of a second date. She’s only just out of college, working part-time while studying to be a preschool teacher. As a full-time civil servant, it felt right.

She’d insisted on splitting, but I let her cover her movie drink (about 1,000 yen total) and paid the rest by card.

(First dates are supposed to go like this, right?)

The end was approaching.

So far so good—no students or colleagues spotted. Perfect first date.

I’d even looked up what to do if she invited me further… but one-night stands aren’t the goal. This is marriage-hunting. Third date is the usual milestone, according to the sites and Master Hakamada.

(And with Sakura… there’s still the age risk…)

I glanced at her walking beside me.

Way too cute for me, genuinely good girl—but she still looked like a teenager.

Looks shouldn’t matter… but it bugged me.

“I take the subway here. Today was really fun. Can we… meet again?”

“Ah, well…”

“No…?”

She stared straight into my eyes.

“No, of course… I had fun too…”

It was true, but the age thing was still gnawing at me—

“?”

She looked a little hurt by my hesitation, but then her face lit up.

“I’m so glad! I had an amazing time today ♡”

Damn it, too cute!

“Then soon again. I still owe you for treating me. Oh—right.”

She held out her phone.

“Want to exchange LINE?”

“Eh…”

“On the app you have to pay to keep messaging, right? Do you mind giving out your private one?”

Master Hakamada had warned me: some women hesitate because of privacy, hardcore guys even have separate phones. Usually you wait a few dates.

First-date LINE offer… huge green flag.

“N-no, not at all…”

A million thoughts, but I wasn’t going to say no.

“Let’s do it.”

I scanned her QR code.

Name: “Sakura”

So her real name really is Sakura.

“Thank you so much for today.”

She bowed cutely.

“I’ll message you ♡”

And with that she dashed off.

I watched her back disappear, thinking:

Sakura really is adorable.

I definitely want to see her again.

▼　▼　▼

(Seriously… what a great girl.)

She even offered LINE first—blew away all my doubts.

Super successful date.

Relieved, but one thing still nagged:

Was she really twenty-three?

She looked straight-up high school.

But… let’s say, hypothetically, she’s actually 17 or 18 right now.

In three years she’d be 20–21, I’d be 29–30.

Nine-year gap.

A bit big, but… dating three years, propose, marry right after college graduation—actually pretty normal.

I know people who married right after university.

If she went straight into work after high school, she’d be in her third year as a working adult. Junior college → first year working.

Perfect marriage timing.

I’d be thirty—pretty good by today’s standards, maybe even early.

A few years later first kid, few more second kid—still young enough to see them through college before retirement.

(…What the hell am I planning already…?)

Way too far ahead. And if she lied about her age, there’s definitely something shady. As a teacher I can’t afford trouble.

Even if she didn’t lie, falling for someone who looks high-school-aged is… problematic for a high school teacher.

But if there’s a next date—

(…I’ll deal with it then.)

No point worrying about tanuki skins before catching the tanuki.

Because—

(Sakura really was cute…)

Just remembering made me grin like an idiot.

Going on a date with a girl like that—worth every second of starting the app.

I owed Hakamada big time.

Thinking about a girl, feeling something like love again—it had been forever.

I was honestly satisfied.

Finally home.

If “the trip isn’t over till you’re home,” then the date was officially complete.

Key in the lock—click—

“Guess who~ ♪”

A familiar voice—then suddenly everything went dark.

Cold hands covered my eyes.

(This is…)

Why? How?

Someone was covering my eyes from behind.

But more shocking than that—was the voice.

The voice of the girl I’d just been with—

“Sakura-san!?”

“Bingo ♡ You called me Sakura~”

The hands pulled away. I spun around.

There she was—Sakura (formerly Sakuran), grinning “ehehe~.”

“Umm… why are you at my place…?”

“Obviously I followed you♪”

She puffed out her chest proudly.

“Stalking, technically! Maybe I’ve got detective talent!”

“No, that’s… we literally just watched a detective movie… Wait—why are you trying to open my door?!”

“So I can inspect your home, duh. Surprise home visit! Maybe I’ve got TV crew talent too!”

“That kind of visit needs to go through my manager…”

“You don’t have a manager, Sensei ♡ Anyhoo—coming in!”

“S-Sen—”

The word “Sensei” froze me.

In that split second, Sakura ducked under my arm that was blocking the doorway and slipped inside.

“Mission success~!”

She jumped for joy after kicking off her shoes and stepping up into the genkan.

“A… plan?”

She looked completely different from the girl I’d just been on a date with. Like another person entirely.

What the hell is going on?

(Younger sister after all…?)

But she said she didn’t have one.

And “Sensei”…?

As I stood there confused, she grabbed my arm.

“Reveal time should be done where no one can overhear, right? Come on ♡”

She yanked me—into my own home—like she was dragging me inside.

Apparently, my date… wasn’t over yet