6

The road to the cake shop was a mix of narrow sidewalks and little storefronts that all looked older than the school itself. The late afternoon sun hit everything at an angle that made even the dusty laundromat look nice.

Daiki had his hands in his pockets, Aoi walked in short, quick steps like she was already halfway to dessert, and Satoshi kept pace just behind us.

“So,” Aoi said, glancing over her shoulder, “since you’re new to the group, Satoshi, tell us something about yourself.”

He adjusted his glasses. “You already know I like writing.”

“That’s one thing. We need at least three more,” Daiki said. “Consider it a proper interview. For friend status.”

Satoshi gave him a flat look. “Is there a written test too?”

“Depends how you answer,” I said.

He sighed — not annoyed, more like resigned to our pace — and thought for a moment.

“I live about twenty minutes away by train,” he started. “I don’t have siblings. I read the news every morning.”

Aoi tilted her head. “Like, online news?”

“Mostly. But I still prefer printed papers. The kind you fold.”

“That’s… old school,” Daiki said, grinning.

Satoshi didn’t flinch. “It’s reliable. And I like the smell of the ink.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve officially passed into territory I’ve never heard anyone talk about before.”

He ignored me and went on. “In my free time, I either read or go for walks. Sometimes I help my grandfather with his shop.”

“What kind of shop?” Aoi asked.

“A stationery store.”

“Stationery like pens and paper?” I asked.

“Yes. We also sell calendars, envelopes, and the occasional chess set.”

Daiki blinked. “That’s… oddly specific. Do you get a lot of customers?”

“Enough,” Satoshi said simply. “Mostly older people who still write letters.”

“That’s kind of nice,” Aoi said. “Feels peaceful.”

We passed under a row of blooming street trees. Petals drifted in the air, catching on Satoshi’s hair for a second before the breeze pulled them away. He didn’t seem to notice.

“What about cake?” Daiki asked suddenly. “You didn’t answer the important part. What’s your go-to?”

Satoshi thought again. “Mont Blanc.”

“The chestnut one?” Aoi asked, surprised.

“Yes.”

“That’s… classy,” I said. “Not what I expected.”

Daiki smirked. “I bet you eat it with tea. No milk, no sugar.”

Satoshi adjusted his glasses again. “You’d be correct.”

We all laughed at that. Even he gave the faintest smile, the kind you might miss if you weren’t paying attention.

The cake shop’s sign came into view around the corner, all bright letters and glass display windows. The air smelled faintly of sugar even from here.

Aoi grinned like she’d just won something. “Perfect timing.”

The moment we stepped inside, the smell hit us — sugar, butter, and something faintly nutty, like roasted almonds. Glass display cases lined the counter, each shelf crammed with cakes so perfect they looked fake. Strawberry shortcakes with even layers, glossy fruit tarts, matcha rolls dusted with powdered sugar.

Aoi pressed her hands against the glass like a kid at a toy store. “I want everything.”

“You can only pick one,” I said.

She looked at me like I’d just told her to pick her favorite child.

Daiki leaned closer to the glass. “That one’s got chocolate so dark it’s basically a war crime. I’m getting that.”

Satoshi scanned the shelves with his usual measured pace before pointing. “Mont Blanc.”

“Of course,” I muttered.

When it was my turn, I picked the strawberry shortcake. Safe choice. Couldn’t go wrong with layers of cream and fruit.

We found a table by the window, the sunlight catching in the sugar dust on our plates. The shop played soft jazz over the speakers — the kind that made you feel like you were in a coffee commercial.

Daiki was the first to dig in. “If I die right now, I’m fine with it.”

Aoi laughed. “You’ve only taken one bite.”

“That’s all it takes.”

I cut into my shortcake, the fork sliding through like it had been waiting for this exact moment. Sweet, soft, gone in seconds.

Satoshi ate his Mont Blanc with slow, deliberate bites, like he was judging it for a competition.

“Is it everything you hoped for?” I asked.

“It’s acceptable,” he said, which I’m pretty sure was the highest praise he gave anything.

Aoi’s matcha roll disappeared faster than I expected. “I’m definitely coming back here.”

“You say that like we weren’t expecting it,” I said.

She grinned. “Well, I’ll drag you all with me next time.”

Daiki pointed his fork at her. “I’m fine with that as long as you’re paying.”

“Not happening.”

We kept talking between bites — nothing about school, nothing heavy. Just stories about middle school mishaps, weird neighbors, and Daiki’s ongoing feud with the vending machine near his house. Satoshi even shared a quiet laugh when Aoi mimicked the vending machine’s “beep” sound after eating his coins.

We stepped back outside, the air cooler now, and started walking toward the station. No rush. No homework yet. Just the easy rhythm of four people heading the same way.

To be Continued