【Can't come up with a name】

The sun was sinking in the distance, staining the sky red as the day came to an end. The stream had ended, and Akira lingered outside the building, hands in his pockets, waiting.

“You didn’t have to wait for me.”

Jitsuko approached, her bag slung carelessly over one shoulder.

“Should I carry that?” Akira pointed at it.

She glanced down. “Nah, it’s—”

Too late.

Akira had already taken it, lifting the strap over his shoulder. “Dinner?”

Jitsuko helped Akira adjust the bag. “Let’s go to the diner nearby; that place is a favourite for The Zeros' staff.”

After a short walk, they entered the diner. It had a classic sense to it, the kind of place you would frequent on weekdays to get a feel of nostalgia.

They ordered the food; it was plain, but it tasted great. Maybe because it was quiet. Maybe because she was there.

Akira watched her stir her drink. “My stream with Sanae did well,” he said. “Tomorrow’s the shoot with her again.”

“That’s nice,” Jitsuko picked up her glass, looked at him with a smile, and took a sip.

He swallowed and then hesitated for a moment. But he couldn’t hold back, as if not repeating himself would fade away his feelings. “Jitsuko. I really like you.”

“You’ve told me.” She moved her gaze down, looking at her soup.

“So… let’s collaborate again.”

She looked up. “Even if your numbers drop?”

“It doesn’t matter. If you say it’s okay.” He pressed his thumb against his phone screen, as if sealing the decision. “Then it’ll be okay.”

“It won’t be okay,” she said calmly.

Akira stiffened.

After a pause, she continued, “I can’t decide your life for you. If you really want to collaborate with me despite everything, I won’t stop you. But it has to be your choice.”

He nodded, a little too quickly. The relief came mixed with something else, maybe pressure. Responsibility felt heavier than rejection.

When they finished, they paid and stepped outside. Akira walked half a step behind her, unsure where to put himself. She stopped suddenly, turned, and took his hand.

He blinked.

He looked down at their joined hands, then back at her.

“My birthday’s on the 13th,” she said. “Will you come?”

“R-really? I can?”

She released him. “My parents will be there too. They wanted to meet you.”

She kept walking.

Akira stayed frozen for a moment, staring at his empty hand, then hurried to catch up.

“Um… are we-” He swallowed. “Are we a couple now?”

She didn’t look at him. “Haven’t we… kind of been acting like one already?”

The answer wasn’t firm, but it wasn’t a no either.

He wanted to put an arm around her, to close the gap, but he knew she wouldn’t like that. So he stayed beside her, close but careful.

That night, he didn’t smoke.

I didn’t even have to make her feel bad for me, he thought. And she still invited me.

The days that followed blurred together. He practised conversations in his head, rehearsed greetings, and imagined himself sitting straight at a table. In a childish, almost embarrassing fantasy, he wondered if her parents might like him enough to keep him—like marrying her to him.

On the 13th, he dressed as neatly as he could. He’d bought gifts, maybe too many, and a bouquet. He stared at himself in the mirror.

I look like a suitor.

The thought made him uncomfortable. He changed back into his usual clothes and left.

Jitsuko’s apartment looked the same as before. But it was a sunny day, unlike last time.

He rang the bell and waited, half-hoping no one would answer, that the moment would be postponed by fate.

The door opened.

A woman stood there who looked almost exactly like Jitsuko, with the same eyes and the same mouth, only softened by crow’s feet and smile lines.

“Akira?”

He nodded.

Her face lit up. She pulled him inside without hesitation. “Jitsuko, dear, Akira’s here.”

Jitsuko emerged from the kitchen. She looked the same as always, dressed in her usual clothes. Nothing that screamed birthday.

Akira lifted the gift bags. “For you.”

She sighed quietly. “You brought too many.”

Her mother patted his back. “Such a nice boy.”

“I’ll call Dad,” Jitsuko said. “He wanted to meet you.” She headed upstairs.

Akira turned to her mother. “Ma’am… When will the other guests arrive?”

She smiled. “You’re the only guest. We don’t do big celebrations.” She took the bags from him and set them aside. “You should relax.”

Relax. Right.

Jitsuko returned with her father. He was about Akira’s height, broader in the middle, his presence filling the room without effort. His gaze moved from his daughter to Akira, slow and measuring.

“You better behave yourself,” he said.

The words were light, but the look wasn’t.

Akira felt his shoulders stiffen. He smiled a crooked, automatic smile and nodded almost instantly.

“Dad,” Jitsuko said, pulling his father’s arm. “Don’t scare him.”

Her father chuckled. “I’m not. Look at him. He’s already scared.”

Akira nodded before he realised he was doing it again.

Jitsuko kept looking at him, at his unease. She stepped closer to him. “These are my parents,” she said. “They wanted to meet you after everything I told them.”

He flushed. “What… did you tell them?”

Her mother laughed. “That you’re not great with everyday things. That you sent your personal details to the group chat.”

Her father added, “And that time she picked you up soaked from the rain.”

“Well,” Jitsuko said simply, “I tell them everything. You’re part of my life, so… I told them.”

Akira chuckled. “I see.”

He kept smiling. He made sure of it. He didn’t want her to notice the tightness in his chest, the envy he couldn’t quite swallow.

They laughed together easily and warmly.

And Akira stood among them, smiling, quietly jealous of a family that was complete.