The faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted through the air, creating a cosy, inviting ambience that stood in contrast to the bustling shopping centre outside. Okamura and Koyori chose a table by the window, where a maneki-neko figurine sat beneath a paper moon lamp, casting a soft, ambient light.
Just as they settled in, a waiter approached.
"Good afternoon, young miss and young sir. Welcome to Café Suji Ido," he greeted, his tone polite yet professional. "My name is Yamamura Takumi, but you may call me as Yama-kun. May I also ask your names as well?"
Koyori, ever the polite one, smiled cheerfully. "My name is Minamoto Koyori, and the young man sitting across from me is Okamura Kintarō."
The waiter nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Minamoto-san, Okamura-san. What can I get for the both of you today?"
Koyori eagerly scanned the menu laid out before her. It was a small thing, but Okamura always found it endearing how much joy she took in these moments—especially when it came to food. After making her selection, Yamamura jotted down her order with a nod before shifting his attention toward Okamura.
"And for you, Sir?"
"The formalities aren't necessary. Aren't we about the same age?"
Yamamura didn't respond.
"Anyway, a matcha latte and a slice of matcha cheesecake will be fine. Thank you."
"Add a hanami dango to that order, please," Koyori interjected, giving him a stern glare.
"Excellent selections from you both. I'll have your orders ready shortly. In the meantime, please enjoy your stay." He bowed once more before making his way back to the counter.
"You always order the same thing," she teased, her lips curling into a smile. "Don't you ever get bored?"
Okamura shrugged, unfazed. "Why fix what isn't broken?"
Koyori huffed, shaking her head in amusement. "Typical."
Her gaze then flickered toward the waiter before continuing, "What do you think about Shimizu-chan?"
"That's a bit out of pocket for you to ask. What about her?"
"It's been on my mind for a while. I usually don't put much stock in rumours, but with everything everyone has been saying about her... I have to admit, I was surprised she still won—especially over Sakanoue-san."
He exhaled softly, barely giving the topic a second thought. "Honestly, I never cared who won or lost."
Koyori turned to him, surprised. "That's kinda cold, even for you. Weren't you and Sakanoue-san friends at some point?"
"Friends?" He scoffed at the word. "I wouldn't go that far. We were just part of the same friend group for a while."
"You two seemed closer than just the same friend group," she pointed out. "I can only sympathize with Shimizu-san. It must've been awkward, watching everyone talk behind her back like that."
"Not really. Considering the school we go to, there's no reason for her to feel that way. Rumours and gossip are part of the norm. If people actually believed them, it only proves how gullible they were—and clearly, that wasn't the case."
Koyori leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm, admiring his rationale. "You really don't care about the topic, do you?"
"Not in the slightest," he admitted without hesitation.
She chuckled slightly. "You make it sound so simple." A small smile played at her lips. "Still, I'm glad she came out triumphant in the end."
On the surface, Koyori had every right to question the situation. Something about it didn't sit right—and that much, Okamura was certain of. No—he knew something was off. The election itself, the rumours, the way everything had unfolded—it felt too calculated, too perfectly orchestrated to be mere coincidence. But rather than voice his concerns, he kept them to himself.
The more he dwelled on it, the more lightheaded he became. Then, all at once, a wave of nausea crashed over him, as if his body had finally caught up to the unease he had tried so hard to suppress. He tried to downplay it further, but Koyori caught on to his irregular behaviour almost instantly.
"Are you alright, Kintarō?"
From his point of view, the chatter in the café and even Koyori's concern faded into the background, drowned out by the pounding of his own thoughts.
He struggled to steady himself, forcing slow, deliberate breaths—but the more he fought it, the worse the nausea became. Without explanation, he pressed his phone into her hands, murmuring just one word: "Lavatory," before disappearing through the door.
Koyori jolted up, instinctively wanting to follow him, but just then, their food arrived. She could only watch him go, her fingers tightening around his phone.
「あなたの過去があなたを妨げている.私はそれを自分の利益のために利用する.」