Around two years prior to the story
Rental Girlfriend No More
The late afternoon sun painted the city of Urayasu, Chiba with a golden glow as Chizuru, in full "Mizuhara-mode," stepped onto campus. Not hers, exactly, as this is basically uncharted territory.
Today's assignment: Date.
Client :Hana Uzaki, the ever-exuberant third-year who, surprisingly, craved "relationship experience."
Chizuru, ever the professional, adjusted her sunhat and took a deep breath. "Operation Tease Senpai" could not ruffle her composure.
Little did she know, chaos was already brewing. Peeking from behind a nearby cherry blossom tree was Hana, sporting a mischievous grin and a pair of oversized sunglasses. As Chizuru "bumped" into Shinichi with practiced clumsiness, Hana burst forth, launching into a melodramatic introduction of her "beloved girlfriend."
Hana and her mischief began to grind the pepper.
Shinichi, bless his perpetually innocent heart, blinked owlishly. "Um... Mizuhara-san? Is this... part of the act?"
Chizuru fought back a groan. "Oh, yes, absolutely!" she chirped, flashing her trademark Mizuhara smile. "Hana-chan and I are, in fact, deeply in love."
And so began the tango of confusion. Hana, channeling her inner love guru, bombarded Shinichi with mock Public Display of Attention, peppering him with compliments and playful jabs. Chizuru, caught between maintaining her role and suppressing Hana's borderline-maniacal energy, found herself in a comedic tightrope walk.
The afternoon unfolded like a corny Tollywood soap opera. They shared a (slightly awkward) picnic, where Hana declared Chizuru's hand-made sandwiches "a symphony of deliciousness," earning a deadpan eyebrow raise from the true chef. During a badminton game, Hana insisted on holding hands with "her dearest," much to Shinichi's flustered sputtering. Chizuru, ever the mediator, somehow kept the charade afloat, all the while dodging rogue shuttlecocks and Hana's incessant giggling.
The climax arrived at Chachamaru. Of all places, in the outskirts of Tokyo.
"And that, Senpai, is how you show affection!" remarked Hana. The Master, Akihiro Asai, claps his hand.
Shinichi, face flaming red, stammered, "W-well, I... I guess Hana-san and Mizuhara-san are really close, huh?"
A beat of silence hung heavy in the air. And then, something unexpected happened. Chizuru, her eyes sparkling with mirth, threw back her head and laughed. Her laugh, genuine and unrehearsed, echoed across the rooftop, dissolving the tension into pure amusement.
"You know," Chizuru admitted, tears streaming down her cheeks, "this is actually... kind of fun. Just call me Chizuru, my legal name is Ichinose."
"Ichinose?" The Master inquired, his eyes betraying a glimmer of recognition. As the name echoed in the room, a flood of memories rushed through his mind. Hana, momentarily stunned, joined in the laughter, the sound blending into a joyous harmony. Even Shinichi, emboldened by the infectious laughter, cracked a hesitant smile. In that moment, the pretense seemed to melt away, revealing the raw joy of human connection.
The Master, hiding a smile that hinted at a shared secret, spoke with a soft yet knowing tone. "Ichinose, you say? Ah, the whimsical twists of fate bring back memories of a certain Kentaro Ichinose formerly from the Maison Ikkoku up stream. Safe to say that your mom is his little sister, he's heartbroken when seeing her coffin lowered; while carrying you," A subtle nod to the past, a nod to the layers of identity that humans carry.
" As for me," he continued, revealing a glint in his eyes, "you may call me Akihiro Asai, a name that holds its own stories and echoes of time. I am your Master's oldest brother, around eight years older," the slightly shaven man pointed to the couple.
The laughter persisted, now woven with threads of shared understanding. The room embraced the genuine camaraderie, transcending the roles and revealing the beauty of connections formed in unexpected moments.
Later, as they walked home, Shinichi, still slightly bewildered, remarked, "You know, Hana, for someone who wanted to tease me, you seem... genuinely fond of Mizuhara-san."
Hana snorted, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "Maybe a little too fond," she admitted, then winked. "But that's a secret for another day, Senpai."
As they strolled into the dusk, the streetlights casting long shadows, Chizuru couldn't help but smile. Perhaps, she thought, this chaotic, unorthodox encounter was exactly what they all needed. A reminder that life, like love, often unfolds in the most unexpected ways, sometimes fueled by the most peculiar of rental agreements.
From that day, the act of Chizuru Mizuhara as the rental girlfriend was no more.
And who knows, maybe somewhere down the line, Shinichi would finally realize the girl standing right beside him had been the object of his affection all along, rental girlfriend façade or not. But that, as Hana would say, was a story for another time.
Er.... not really.
Buckle Up, Sugarplums.
Hana, bouncing around like a caffeinated hummingbird, plastered on her brightest smile, "Welcome to Café Asia, darlings! Where the coffee's strong and the competition's hotter than Master's temper when his Wi-Fi drops!"
Mizuhara-san, the epitome of elegance, glided in like a swan in a silk slip, her smile sweeter than the syrup Ami keeps hidden under the counter. "Greetings, esteemed patrons. May your coffee be as invigorating as your spirits, and your taste buds as delighted as my presence."
Akihiko Asai, the Master, perched at a corner table with a bowl of plain rice (man's gotta prioritize carbs), scoffed. "You two puttin' on a play for tips again? It's like watching squirrels fight over a stale nut."
Ami, ever the diplomat, chimed in, "Relax, Papa. Maybe some healthy competition will bring in new customers! Like uncle always said, living life means adversity."
And oh boy, did it ever. Hana was a whirlwind of energy, peppering tables with cheesy compliments and impromptu karaoke sessions (think Whitney Houston, but with questionable pitch). Chizuru, meanwhile, employed the art of silent seduction, a flick of her hair here, a knowing glance there, leaving customers feeling like they'd just discovered the Rosetta Stone of romance.
Master and Ami, however, remained unimpressed. Their bowls of plain rice, witnesses to countless cafe dramas, sat stoically, like Buddha statues judging a cat video contest. Every now and then, Master would mutter, "All that fussin' over fancy coffee. Give me a good bowl of rice any day. No drama, no sugar crash."
The competition was fierce, but not without its heartwarming moments. Hana, inspired by Chizuru's poise, learned to temper her exuberance, offering genuine conversations and heartfelt encouragement. Chizuru, in turn, loosened up under Hana's infectious enthusiasm, even resorting to a (slightly off-key) rendition of "Bohemian Rhapsody" to revive a particularly sleepy couple.
By the end of the day, the tip jar held enough cash to fund Master's next karaoke bender (and maybe a new pair of socks for Ami). But more importantly, both girls discovered something new about themselves. Hana realized that genuine kindness could woo hearts just as effectively as her usual antics. Chizuru learned that letting loose didn't have to mean losing her grace, and that a good laugh was as potent an aphrodisiac as any fancy perfume.
As they walked out, Hana, elbowing Chizuru playfully, remarked, "You know, Chizu-chan, you ain't half bad when you're not busy channeling a porcelain doll."
Chizuru chuckled, a real, unforced laugh that made even Master raise an eyebrow. "And you, Hana-chan, are more than just a walking sugar rush. You've got more depth than a bottomless cup of espresso."
Suddenly, Master, bowl of rice abandoned, leaped from his seat. "Did someone say bottomless espresso? This old man ain't dead yet!"
Ami facepalmed. "Papa, don't you dare..."
As Master and Ami descended into their usual bickering routine, Chizuru and Hana exchanged a knowing smile. Perhaps, just perhaps, this wasn't the last chapter in their unlikely friendship.
The problem is, they weren't friends. They are (pretty) close relatives.
College Festival?
The air crackled with nervous energy as Kazuya Kinoshita, Chizuru Mizuhara, Shinichi Sakurai, and Hana Uzaki huddled around a cluttered table in the college festival planning room. They, a mismatched team united by the capricious hand of fate, had been tasked with concocting a presentation unlike any other.
Kazuya, ever the Casanova-in-training, coughed dramatically. "So, ladies and gentlemen, what shall be our masterpiece? Something to tickle the funny bone, perhaps? Or maybe..." he leaned in conspiratorially, "a heart-melting ode to romance?"
Shinichi, blushing to the roots of his hair, mumbled about the importance of educational content. Hana, bouncing in her seat with barely contained exuberance, voted for karaoke thunderdome. Chizuru, radiating glacial elegance, suggested a dignified showcase of historical artifacts.
Needless to say, the initial brainstorming resembled a toddler's art project gone rogue, but finished. Kazuya and Shinichi, despite their differing levels of vocalization, discovered a shared territory of... shall we say, "appreciating the finer aesthetics of the female form."
"She needs to be like a goddess," Kazuya sighed, picturing his ideal woman. "Long, flowing hair, eyes like sapphires, and a laugh that could make angels weep. "
Shinichi, his voice barely above a whisper, chimed in, "My muse, she must be the epitome of grace. A delicate dance of poise and intelligence, a smile that could light up a moonless night. "
"Senpai, you are a BAAAD storyteller. Kazuya-san, your perversion could be considered as a harassment!" Hana, sensing the boys' eyes, traveling up-and-down, right-to left. Suddenly, Chizuru and Hana, who had been exchanging whispered anecdotes, burst into laughter.
"Sounds familiar, boys?" Hana teased, eyes twinkling.
"They always get up to the same kinds of trouble," Hana winked at Chizuru, who rolled her eyes playfully. "Remember that time at the beach when you convinced me to try that seaweed mask, and we ended up looking like green swamp monsters?"
"What do you mean?" Kazuya stammered, scratching his head.
Kazuya shivered, feeling a strange pull towards both women. "Yeah, there's definitely something there. You both have this way of... captivating an audience, holding them on the edge of their seats. I forgot you knew each other since middle school."
Chizuru's smile widened, " The truth is... we each had passion for theater! Hana-chan practically grew up backstage, soaking up every lesson my grandparents offered. You could say acting is in her blood, just like it is for me."
Kazuya's eyes widened in realization. "Wait, are you saying... Mizuhara-san, is related to the Uzakis?"
"Nah, more like the Ichinoses to the Shirasagis. Second cousin?" Hana cut in, grinning mischievously. "Technically, yeah! But trust me, we're more like sisters. Auntie Yumi, a relative of both Grandpa Katsu and Granny Sayuri practically raised Chizu-chan after they, you know," she waved her hand vaguely, "passed away."
A flicker of sadness crossed Chizuru's face, momentarily clouding her smile. Kazuya, sensing the shift, cleared his throat and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
Shinichi, ever the oblivious charmer, misinterpreted the tension. "Whoa, heavy stuff! No wonder you two exude such... presence. It's in the genes, man!"
Nevertheless,Kazuya was shocked. He didn't realize that his girlfriend is using her mother's maiden surname as her legal name, and her proper surname as a "stage name".
A collective sigh escaped Chizuru and Hana. Ami, who had been listening intently from the sidelines, chimed in. "Don't mind Shinichi, he's got the emotional intelligence of a goldfish."
Shinichi puffed up his chest, "Hey! I resemble that remark! Anyway, point being, the ladies' legacy is pretty cool. No wonder these two women, albeit very far-fetched, turned out to click like puzzle pieces!"
The revelation floored everyone. It explained Hana's natural charm and Chizuru's refined elegance – they were products of the same artistic lineage, albeit expressed in wildly different ways.
This shared history became their bridge, their common ground. Hana helped Shinichi loosen up, coaxing him out of his shell with silly games and impromptu dance breaks. Chizuru, in turn, taught Kazuya the power of subtlety, of letting his genuine admiration speak louder than his awkward fumbles.
Their presentation, a chaotic blend of facts, humor, and unexpected emotional depth, became the festival's crowning jewel. The audience roared with laughter at Hana's witty asides, gasped at Shinichi's newfound boldness, and melted at Chizuru's heartfelt delivery. Kazuya, though still prone to the occasional foot-in-mouth moment, managed to support his team with surprising maturity.
Scud Incoming
The confession hung in the air, warm and electric, yet fragile as autumn leaves. Kazuya and Chizuru, finally shedding the rented skin of their past, stood in the golden embrace of sunset, their hearts still echoing with the tremors of honesty.
"So," Chizuru broke the silence, her voice laced with a playful hint of nervousness, "how about a real date? This time, no contracts, no scripts, just... us."
Kazuya's face split into a grin, as genuine as the sun painting the sky with fiery hues. "Sounds perfect. Where do we start?"
"My treat," Chizuru announced, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Let's go somewhere I can blast some stress away."
And that's how they found themselves at the batting cages, the rhythmic clang of metal against wood replacing the city's usual symphony. Chizuru, a natural athlete, stepped up first, her form smooth and precise, sending the balls screaming into the netting with satisfying cracks. Her smile radiated, a testament to the catharsis of unleashing pent-up emotions.
Kazuya, ever the self-proclaimed klutz, watched with a nervous mix of admiration and awe. He expected himself to put on a comedic display, flailing at the air like a windmill caught in a storm. But then, something shifted. It started with a swing, tentative at first, then bolder, fueled by the lingering adrenaline of confession and the quiet encouragement in Chizuru's eyes.
The ball connected with the bat in a sweet spot, a satisfying "ping" echoing through the cage. It flew, a white bullet soaring towards the back fence, where it slammed into the netting with the force of a cannonball. Kazuya stared, dumbfounded, then at Chizuru, whose jaw practically hit the floor.
"Kazuya," she managed, her voice shaking with disbelief, "did you just...hit a homer?"
A grin, wide and disbelieving, split his face. He looked at the bat in his hand, a newfound respect blooming in his heart. "I guess I did," he stammered, still trying to grasp the sheer unexpectedness of it all.
Encouraged by Chizuru's laughter and awestruck cheers, Kazuya kept swinging. Each hit was a testament to his hidden talent, each ball disappearing into the twilight like a launched dream. It felt surreal, this sudden prowess in a realm he always considered foreign.
As the shadows deepened, and the batting cage lights illuminated their faces, Chizuru looked at Kazuya, her eyes holding a new spark of wonder. "Who are you, when you're not tripping over your own feet?" she teased, a smile dancing on her lips.
Kazuya shrugged, surprised by the newfound confidence in his own voice. "Maybe this is the real Kazuya, the one who's been hiding under the guise of a disaster zone." He paused, then met her gaze, his voice softer now. "But I couldn't have found him without you, Chizuru."
As the echoes of Kazuya's final homer faded, a familiar blur of pink and blonde hair shot into the cage. "Alright, Kinoshita-senpai," Hana declared, snatching Shinichi's bat like a pirate claiming a sword. "Time for you to witness pure Uzaki-style mastery!"
Shinichi chuckled, shaking his head with mock resignation. "Just don't break anything, Hana. Remember what happened to the karaoke machine?"
Hana stuck her tongue out playfully. "Hey, that was your fault for challenging me to that Dragon Ball Z theme song duet!"
Kazuya and Chizuru exchanged amused glances, enjoying the familiar bickering between their friends. Chizuru nudged Kazuya in the ribs, whispering, "Remember when you couldn't hit a watermelon with a sledgehammer?"
Kazuya blushed, recalling his disastrous performance at the beach house. But today, fueled by Chizuru's smile and a newfound confidence, he felt like he could crack the moon with a toothpick.
Hana, meanwhile, had entered an almost comical zone of focus. She adjusted her grip on the bat, cracked her knuckles like a boxer, and gave Shinichi a mock salute. "Prepare to be amazed, sempai!"
With a dramatic swing, Hana launched the ball. It wobbled in the air like a drunk butterfly, barely crossing the halfway mark before plopping harmlessly into the netting. Her triumphant grin evaporated, replaced by a comical pout.
"Aw, come on!" she whined, kicking the dirt like a petulant child. "I swear, this bat must be cursed."
Shinichi snorted, ruffling her hair. "Maybe if you spent less time practicing your dramatic entrances and more time focusing on your form, you wouldn't be begging me for ramen later."
Hana's eyes narrowed. "Oh yeah? You wanna see form? Fine! But if I hit a homer, you're buying dinner tonight!"
The challenge sparked a fire in Hana's eyes. She adjusted her stance, channeled the spirit of a hundred anime sports protagonists, and took another swing. This time, the ball connected with a satisfying "ping," soaring high into the twilight sky. They all watched, hearts held in their throats, as the white streak sailed towards the outfield fence.
Suddenly, it hit. Not just the fence, but the top corner, exploding in a spray of netting and dust. A stunned silence engulfed the cage, broken only by the chirping of crickets. Then, Shinichi's jaw dropped, his eyes wide as saucers.
"Did... did you just..." he stammered, turning to Kazuya.
Kazuya, still basking in the afterglow of his own batting prowess, just shrugged. "Looks like the stars are aligning for both of us tonight, Edo-chan."
Hana, meanwhile, had erupted into a victory dance, a whirlwind of her hair and triumphant squeals. "Ha! Dinner's on you, loser!" she crowed, brandishing the bat like a trophy.
As they watched Hana's jubilant celebration, both Kazuya and Shinichi were struck by a strange sensation. It wasn't just the shared astonishment of Hana's unexpected homer. It was something more, a subtle connection, a flicker of recognition hidden in the twilight shadows.
Not long after.......
The rhythmic clang of metal against wood continued like a metronome against the chirping symphony of crickets. Kazuya, still reeling from Hana's unexpected homer, leaned against the cage fence, a grin plastered across his face. Chizuru by his side, her own smile just as bright, nudged him.
"Looks like you're not the only lefty with hidden talents," she teased, her eyes twinkling.
Suddenly, the cage door swung open, revealing a flash of blue hair and a swagger that could launch a spaceship. It was Kiri Uzaki, Hana's younger brother, a walking hurricane of energy and competitive spirit.
"Alright, alright, heard there were some fireworks happening in here," Kiri announced, snatching a bat from the rack like a gunslinger claiming his holster. "Mind if I show you how real pros swing?"
Hana, still giddy from her victory, puffed out her chest. "Oh yeah, Kiri-kun? Put your money where your mouth is! If you hit two homers in a row, I'll let you borrow my lucky karaoke headband."
The challenge ignited a competitive spark in Kiri's eyes. He adjusted his grip on the bat, his stance a mirror image of Kazuya's earlier form. With a cocky grin, he cracked his knuckles and winked at Chizuru. "Consider it done, Chizu-chan. You'll be mesmerized."
Kazuya chuckled, intrigued by this blue-haired doppelganger. He folded hands, eyes slanted, while asking slowly to Chizuru,"Think he inherited the Uzaki family home run gene too?"
Chizuru shrugged, but the mischievous glint in her eyes said she was just as curious.
Kiri took a deep breath, channeled the spirit of a thousand baseball anime protagonists, and swung. The bat connected with a resounding "crack," sending the ball soaring into the twilight sky like a feathered rocket. It skimmed the top of the fence, leaving a trail of dust and the echoes of Kazuya's earlier homer in its wake.
A collective gasp escaped the group. Hana's jaw dropped, her victory dance replaced by a stunned silence. Kiri, however, pumped his fist in the air, a wild grin splitting his face.
"One down, one to go, sis!" he crowed, already bouncing on his toes for the next swing.
The air crackled with anticipation. Kazuya found himself strangely invested, an unspoken camaraderie forming between the two left-handed swingers. This wasn't just a competition; it was a quest for answers, a test of the strange phenomenon that had graced the batting cage that night.
Kiri stepped up again, his focus intense. He swung, and... silence. This time, the ball fell short, landing harmlessly in the infield. Disappointment flickered across his face, but it was quickly replaced by a determined grin.
"Alright, that's just a warmup," he declared, picking up the bat. "Two out of three ain't bad, right?"
Kazuya felt a smile tug at his lips. He remembered his own journey from klutz to slugger, the unexpected confidence that bloomed under Chizuru's encouraging gaze. Maybe, just maybe, Kiri needed a similar spark, a cheerleader to unlock his hidden potential.
As Kiri wound up for another swing, Kazuya found himself stepping forward, a playful grin on his face. "How about a friendly wager, Kiri-kun? If you hit that homer, I'll teach you my new killer karaoke move."
The laughter subsided as they stepped out of the batting cage, the twilight sky shimmering with secrets yet to be unveiled. Kazuya, still buzzing from the unexpected camaraderie with Kiri, nudged him playfully.
"So, Kiri-kun," he teased, "care to share the real reason you were itching to show off your swing tonight?"
Kiri, cheeks dusted with a faint blush, feigned nonchalance. "Just felt like stretching my limbs, Kinocchi. Nothing more."
But the smirk playing on his lips betrayed him. Kazuya leaned in, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Come on, don't tell me the Uzaki charm only works on your sister. Spill the beans, who's got you swinging for the fences?"
Kiri sighed, the blush deepening. "Fine, fine. But promise not to tell Hana, the nosy little gremlin will never let me hear the end of it."
Kazuya held up his hands in mock surrender. "Confessional seal tight, I assure you."
Under the cloak of the evening sky, Kiri confessed his blossoming crush on a certain someone – Ruka Sarashina. He talked about her kindness, her quiet strength, the way her laugh could light up a room. Kazuya listened intently, a smile dancing on his lips.
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