Chapter Text
Yūta dismissed himself as paranoid for assuming there was a hidden meaning behind Satoru's «suspicious» smile. Unfortunately, his cousin had earned a reputation for being eccentric and extremely cunning. Because of this, Yūta couldn't help but wonder what Satoru's true intentions were in asking him to come back. It frustrated him that he couldn't figure out the answer, but Yūta knew it wasn't as simple as Satoru just wanting to see him or expecting Yūta to take his place on their date that day.
Ah, his head was throbbing.
The person he was to meet hadn't arrived.
Yūta checked the time on his luxury brand watch, far too expensive for his taste, but a gift from Satoru. His cousin's insistence was such that Yūta felt compelled to accept, and equally unable to refuse his «assistance» in recommending what to wear. Designer clothes seemed out of place on Yūta for a whirlwind date, which could hardly be considered one. If the young man had agreed to be Satoru's dress-up plaything, it was precisely so that anything his cousin might ask of him in the future would be easier to refuse.
He stifled a sigh at his cousin's nonsense, at his own lack of resistance to it, or at wasting too many minutes waiting for his arrangement. Between the time he'd arrived early (because that was the proper thing to do) and the time this young woman was taking to arrive, Okkotsu was beyond impatient.
Yūta thought about waiting just a little longer, partly out of politeness, even though the woman was not resolved to do the same, but mostly to get out of the situation with Satoru and his family by showing minimal obedience and willingness to their expectations.
He took another sip of his coffee, and again, a grimace of disgust was suppressed from his face, as the drink was far from pleasant. He looked around, observing the minimalist decor and the paintings hanging on the wall far from him, unsure of the artist or what they had tried to express with so many uneven lines and monochromatic colors... surely it was his own lack of interest in art that kept Yūta from appreciating them. The establishment was quite large, with several tables distributed around, attentive service, and enough customers that no one would doubt it was a good place. He contemplated his drink and, unfortunately, couldn't offer a very positive opinion of it.
His table was slightly at the back, offering a full view of the rest of the place. He had a particularly good view of the tall windows across the room, and through them, the sunlight streamed in, bathing the place in a warm, almost golden glow.
Nevertheless, this light, in his opinion, did nothing but blind him, obstructing his view beyond a few meters from his table and preventing him from seeing the entrance clearly. Even so, it contributed to the place's peculiar atmosphere.
Unfortunately, none of this seemed to stir anything within him. Yūta Okkotsu was merely doing a favor for his cousin, as well as fulfilling a duty as a member of the Gojo family.
Confident footsteps echoed in his direction, revealing a tall and beautiful figure that couldn't be concealed by her casual attire: jeans that looked tighter than they probably were, a plain turtleneck blouse in a soft lilac hue, and over it, a short, plum-colored wool coat. But it was when the light, which had been bothersome, ceased to impede Yūta's vision that the elegant young woman was already in front of him.
Her hair, a deep dark green, flowed freely down her back, with only a few strands falling over her shoulders; it looked silky and had a healthy sheen. Yūta noticed the simple, understated earrings when she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Are you here for a date?" the young woman asked, her tone laced with gentle irony and a half-smile playing on her lips. Her voice was alluring. "Have you been waiting long, hm?"
There was no hint of regret in her expression for her apparent lateness, nor did she offer an apology. In fact, her demeanor was casual and relaxed, almost haughty. But the half-smile she offered him blinded Yūta.
"Can I?"
She didn't wait for the man's reply, much less for him to stand and pull out the chair for her, as Yūta would have done without hesitation had he not been so flustered. So she did it herself. And with little ceremony, but with elegant movements, the young woman sat down opposite a stunned Yūta.
"Hi," she said, offering him a brief nod. Her back was straight, her chin held high with a hint of pride, and her gaze never left his, waiting for Yūta to say something.
But it was impossible at that moment because Yūta could only admire her. Her face was beyond being considered «pretty» (though that was the only adjective his half-functioning brain could offer); she wore light, very soft, and discreet makeup. But her lips stood out in a soft, rosy shade, and her gaze was bright. And her eyes… the light that seemed to bathe her face highlighted her hazel eyes with golden flecks every time she blinked. The woman before him was undeniably beautiful.
She was the embodiment of Yūta's dreams.
Yūta felt his breath catch in his throat, and while his lips parted slightly to speak, he couldn't utter a single word -his mind blank in the astonishment of this person's presence. He simply couldn't comprehend what he was seeing.
But Okkotsu wasn't the only one observing.
While she seemed to be inspecting him with a critical eye, she wasn't as obvious as he was. But after a moment, his silence was misinterpreted; the young man's lack of response seemed to affect his companion, as the confidence she had displayed weakened only slightly.
Yūta, for his part, was grateful that his body's only proper function was breathing; otherwise, he would have made some passionate (and embarrassing) declaration amidst a flurry of words, surely choking on his own saliva. The silence, though somewhat awkward and mortifying, was the least disastrous outcome.
Okkotsu Yūta only remembered two similar occasions, where his heart beat so hard it seemed to deafen him, while the words he wanted to express failed to come out of his mouth.
"...I'm Zenin Maki," she said, offering him a slightly arrogant smile, unaware of the impact it was having on him.
And those two occasions were because of-
"Maki…?" Yūta finally found his voice, though it was like waking from a dream. And perhaps she truly was a daydream, because Yuta couldn't stop remembering, juxtaposing those memories of that girl with the stunning woman before him. It was inevitable, the longing that never left him. Yūta blinked, as if under a spell. "Are you real-"
Maki tilted her head slightly, and with that subtle movement, her hair fell over her shoulders; the brief hesitation in her at Yūta's unfinished question, uttered like a yearning sigh.
"Are you Okkotsu Yūta-san?"