Chapter Text
The group sat at a large table in a crowded family restaurant. The atmosphere was a chaotic mix of tension and chewing noises. Vamola was currently inhaling her third plate of doria, while Momo and Okarun sat stiffly next to each other, both blushing so hard they looked like boiled crabs, afraid to even make eye contact.
Aira narrowed her eyes. She kicked Jiji under the table.
"Ouch!" Jiji yelped.
Aira didn’t speak. Instead, she made a face—not a subtle signal, but a contorted grimace, scrunching her nose and baring her teeth like a demon mask, jerking her head toward the drink bar. She stood up and marched off.
Jiji rubbed his shin, confused, but followed her like a loyal puppy. They cornered themselves near the soda fountain, hidden by a fake potted plant.
"What’s up, Aira-chan?"
Aira crossed her arms, her expression dead serious. "I have an idea. A strategy to separate Momo from Takakura."
Jiji blinked, his smile fading. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I am in love with Takakura, duh," Aira said. She pointed a manicured finger at his chest. "And you are in love with Momo. Which makes you my perfect partner in crime."
Jiji’s face turned bright red. Steam practically erupted from his ears. "W-W-Who said I’m in love with Momo?!"
"It’s painfully obvious, you dummy," Aira sighed, closing her eyes. "I’m sure Momo has realized it, too. Well... maybe not this current Momo, but the Momo from a week ago definitely did." She opened one eye, looking at him with a critical, calculating gaze. "And, in my expert personal opinion... you might actually have a chance with her."
Jiji’s posture straightened. Sparkles appeared around his head. "You... you really think so?"
"Yes. If not for the fact that she is currently falling in love again with Takakura. But don't worry! My plan will make them forget all about each other and come running to us!"
Jiji looked down, twiddling his thumbs, his voice small. "But... is it really a good idea to do this? I mean... if they really like each other, I think we should just let them be happy..."
Aira delivered a sharp, backhanded chop to Jiji’s chest.
"That is the mentality of a loser!" she hissed.
She smoothed her skirt and regained her composure. "Listen. This is my plan. We are going to pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend."
Jiji’s jaw dropped. "Huh?"
"You heard me. We pretend to date. That way, both of them will realize what they are missing out on. You will act like the Boyfriend of the Year. I will act like the Best Girlfriend in the World. We will dazzle them with our romance until they are consumed by jealousy!"
Jiji scratched the back of his head, skeptical. "Are you sure that’s gonna work?"
"Of course! I have watched a mountain of dramas with this exact plot, and the main characters always fall for it!"
Jiji still looked hesitant. Aira stepped closer, her expression softening. She looked him dead in the eye, her voice surprisingly sincere.
"Are you in? Look, please don't make me ask Kinta. Or that delinquent with the glasses who, by the way, obviously has feelings for Momo too."
Jiji flinched at the mention of the competition.
"Between you and them," Aira continued, placing a hand on her hip, "you are the better option. Honestly... it would make me genuinely happy if you were the one to end up with Momo."
Jiji stared at her.
"Oh..." Jiji rubbed his nose, looking a little bashful. "Okay then! If you think this will work, I’ll trust you, Aira-chan!"
"Good!" Aira extended her hand, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Then give me your hand."
Jiji nodded enthusiastically. Knowing Aira, he wiped his palm quickly on the side of his pants and thrust his hand forward, fingers spread wide, expecting a firm, manly handshake to seal their secret alliance.
"You got it, Aira-cha—"
He didn't get to finish the sentence. Aira didn’t shake his hand. Instead, she reached out and slid her fingers through his, interlocking them in a tight, undeniable grip.
Jiji froze, his brain short-circuiting. It wasn't a handshake. It was holding hands. Like, actually holding hands.
Before he could process the sudden lack of personal space, Aira spun around and began marching back toward their booth, towing him along like a piece of luggage.
Jiji stumbled after her, his feet moving automatically while his mind went into total meltdown. Wait, right now? We’re starting right now?!
He stared down at their joined hands with wide, terrified eyes. Her hand was incredibly small. And soft. And warm. He realized with a jolt of pure teenage panic that he had never actually held a girl's hand like this before. Sure, there were high-fives, but this was different. This was continuous contact.
Is this how it feels? he thought, his face heating up rapidly. It’s so… soft. Wait, am I sweating? I’m definitely sweating. Oh god, my hand is going to become a swamp and she’s going to get mad at me.
He tried to keep his arm stiff to minimize the movement, but Aira was swinging their arms naturally, looking completely unbothered. To Jiji, the ten-meter walk back to the table felt like crossing a desert. He could feel his pulse hammering in his fingertips. He looked at the back of Aira’s head, marveling at her confidence. How was she doing this? Was she a professional hand-holder?
By the time they reached the table where the others were eating, Jiji felt lightheaded. He looked like he had just run a marathon, panting slightly, his free hand clutching his chest as Aira stopped right in front of the group, presenting their interlocked hands like a trophy.
They reached the table, casting a shadow over the food. Momo looked up from her drink, her eyes immediately zeroing in on the clammy, interlocking grip between Aira and Jiji.
"Why are you two holding hands?" Momo asked, her tone flat.
Aira blinked, putting a hand to her cheek in a display of theatrical surprise. "Oh? Did we forget to tell you?" She smiled, squeezing Jiji’s hand so hard his knuckles cracked. "Enjoji and I are dating."
"WHAT?!"
Momo, Okarun, and even Vamola shouted in perfect unison. Okarun nearly knocked over his water glass.
"That’s crazy!" Momo slammed her hand on the table, pointing an accusing finger at Aira. "literally a second ago you were fighting with me over Okarun! I mean—" She flushed, realizing how that sounded. "—you were fighting me for him."
"I know, I know," Aira waved her hand dismissively. "I suppose it just became a habit. But after talking it over with Enjoji just now, he told me he didn't like it. It made him feel uncomfortable."
She looked lovingly at Jiji, who was currently staring at a stain on the table trying not to hyperventilate.
"And I completely understand," Aira continued, her voice dripping with syrup. "From now on, I’ll stop. After all, Enjoji is the jealous type... but not controlling. He always communicates his insecurities to me."
Aira drove her sharp elbow into Jiji’s ribs. Your turn.
Jiji jumped, snapping to attention. "U-Uh, yes! And, uhm..." He scrambled for the script in his head. "Aira-chan always… uhm, validates my feelings…?"
The table fell silent.
"Wow," Okarun said, adjusting his glasses, genuinely impressed. "It seems like you two have a super mature relationship."
"Ah..." Momo narrowed her eyes, leaning back in her seat. "I don't buy it."
Aira’s smile tightened. "Why? Are you jealous?"
"Me? Why would I be?" Momo scoffed, looking away. "It just seems really out of nowhere, that's all."
"Well, to you it might seem out of nowhere," Aira retorted, nose in the air. "But we have been building this for a while. We walk to and from school together every day, so naturally, we talk a lot. And Enjoji..." She leaned her head on Jiji’s stiff shoulder. "He always makes me laugh with his jokes."
She shot Jiji a wink.
"Aira-chan..." Jiji stammered. He looked at Momo, then Okarun, then at the ceiling. "U-Uh, yeah, I’m funny. But, uhm, Aira-chan is very smart so... we also have... uhm, deep conversations."
"Hm..." Momo made a skeptical noise.
Jiji looked like he was about to pass out from the exertion of lying.
"I’m happy for you guys," Okarun said, smiling with pure, unadulterated kindness.
Aira’s eye twitched. That wasn't the reaction she wanted. Where was the despair? The longing? The jealous rage? He just looked like a supportive friend. It was infuriating.
"Cute!" Vamola cheered, clapping her hands together. "Cute!"
The waiters arrived, breaking the tension by sliding tall, frosty milkshakes onto the table. For Aira, they placed a slice of strawberry shortcake.
Aira didn't waste a second. She picked up her spoon, scooped up a generous piece of cake with a strawberry on top, and leaned across the table, invading Jiji's personal space.
"Say 'Aaaah'," she cooed, holding the spoon inches from his lips.
Jiji turned an atomic shade of red. His brain seemed to short-circuit, the world around him narrowing down to a single, terrifying point of focus: the silver spoon, his brain screamed, processing the data at the speed of light. That spoon... was in Aira-chan's mouth just three seconds ago. It touched her lips. If I put it in my mouth... that’s... that’s an indirect kiss!
He began to vibrate. He was shaking so hard he looked like a blurry glitch in reality. He opened his mouth to accept the offering, but his motor control was completely gone.
"Gahh!" Jiji muffled a scream. In his panic, he had snapped his jaw shut too early, nearly biting his own tongue off along with the spoon.
Momo and Okarun stared, their eyes wide with surprise. Vamola, completely unbothered, continued to shovel rice gratin into her mouth.
"Wow," Momo said, raising an eyebrow. "You guys even do... that kind of stuff?"
"Yup!" Aira chirped, pulling the clean spoon back and licking her lips for effect which nearly sent Jiji into cardiac arrest. "Even though Enjoji is tall and strong, he is still a growing boy! So I have to make sure he keeps his tummy full. Right, Enjoji?"
Jiji, currently nursing a throbbing tongue and a heart rate of 200 bpm, could only manage a weak nod. "Mh-hm..."
Momo stirred her drink with her straw, looking unimpressed. "Hm... but don't you think that's a little old-fashioned, Aira? I mean... hand-feeding a man and all that implies..."
"I think it's cute," Okarun interrupted, his voice earnest.
Everyone looked at him.
"Besides," Okarun continued, "Miss Shiratori is right. Jiji is still growing, and doing that shows that she really cares about his well-being."
Fireworks exploded in Aira’s mind. She pumped a mental fist in the air. He thinks I'm cute! He thinks I'm a caring girlfriend! Take that, Momo! He’s seeing the ideal partner right in front of him!
Outwardly, she simply flipped her hair and gave a humble smile. "See? Takakura gets it."
For better or worse, that was just the beginning for Jiji.
Aira gave her all in the role, and she was an excellent actress.
There was no time to recover from the spoon incident before Aira launched her next offensive.
Without warning, Aira leaned over the table. Her fingers gently wrapped around Jiji's hand, which was still clutching his chocolate milkshake, and pulled it toward her.
Jiji watched, paralyzed by a mix of horror and fascination, as Aira’s lips closed around his straw. His straw. She took a long, deliberate sip.
When she pulled away, she simply pushed her own pink drink toward him with a sweetly venomous smile.
"Want to try mine?"
Jiji stared at Aira's straw as if it were an artifact that was both sacred and radioactive.
Another indirect kiss. His teenage brain couldn't process this level of intimacy in such a short window.
"C’mon, it tastes good," she encouraged him, but it sounded more like a threat.
When he realized he was ruining her act, he immediately grabbed her cup and sucked down the freezing liquid with desperation. The punishment was instant. A brutal, sharp "brain freeze" spiked through his skull and everyone busted into laughter, even Aira, who rarely laughed at him. Was that part of her act too?
The date went on like this. While everyone else was trying to have a normal conversation, Aira was plotting her next move and Jiji, aware of this, couldn’t let his guard down, especially because of the tingle on his low belly which became more and more irritant as Aira did her thing.
For example, in one moment, Aira spotted a tiny smudge of whipped cream near the corner of his mouth. She didn't reach for a napkin. Instead, her hand shot out again. Her fingers, cool and soft, gripped his chin firmly, tilting his face up and forcing him to look directly into her calculating eyes.
Time stopped for Jiji.
He literally ceased to breathe.
With torturous slowness, Aira used the pad of her thumb to wipe the smudge from his skin. The touch was electric. Jiji sat completely petrified in his seat, stiff as a statue, unable to even blink as his nervous system collapsed.
The only thing that was preventing him from losing his mind was that, every time Aira did something like that, she would peek at Okarun, looking for a reaction (which most of the time was blank). That was the only reminder he could hold into.
And then came the final blow.
Aira let out a fake, musical little giggle and pressed her shoulder against his. She cupped her hand over her mouth and leaned in close to whisper a secret in his ear.
Jiji felt his heart trying to hammer its way out of his ribcage at the proximity.
But there were no romantic words. Aira’s warm breath tickled his sensitive ear as she hissed a cold, direct command: "Okarun isn't looking. Laugh harder."
The sensation of her breath so close, combined with the accumulated terror of the last hour, was too much.
Jiji broke. A hysterical, loud, and slightly manic laugh erupted from his throat. It was the sound of pure panic, but across the table, Momo simply rolled her eyes, fully convinced that they were actually sharing a hilarious inside joke.
Jiji looked at Aira, who gave him thumps up for winning that reaction from Momo.
But, to be honest, Jiji hadn’t thought of Momo the entire date.
Hours had passed by the time the group finally stepped out of the family restaurant. The sun had gone down, and the evening air bit at their skin with unexpected sharpness.
"Oh..." Aira shivered, rubbing her bare arms. "It’s freezing."
Vamola tilted her head back, looking at the dark sky. "Is it going to snow?"
"I'm not sure," Momo said, burying her face in her scarf.
Without missing a beat, Jiji unzipped his track jacket and pulled it off, revealing just his school shirt underneath.
"Here," Jiji said, draping the warm fabric over Aira’s shoulders before she could even ask.
Aira pulled the collar tight, grateful for the lingering warmth, but she glanced at him with concern. "What about you? Won't you be cold?"
Jiji thumped his chest with a grin. "I'll be fine."
Momo watched the interaction with a look of pure exhaustion. She let out a long sigh.
"Alright, Vamola and I are leaving," Momo announced, turning on her heel. "If I spend one more second with these lovebirds, I think I'm gonna puke."
"I'll walk you home!" Okarun shouted, immediately scrambling to run after them.
"Okay, see you later," Aira called out, waving sweetly until they rounded the corner and vanished from sight.
As soon as they were gone, Aira’s posture relaxed. She spun toward Jiji, her face lighting up with triumph.
"Yay! They believed it all!" Aira cheered, jumping up to high-five Jiji, "Did you see the face Okarun made when I wiped your face? He went like this..." Aira laughed, pulling a ridiculous, exaggerated expression with her mouth hanging open and eyes wide that Okarun definitely didn’t do.
She nudged Jiji playfully, "Oh, and Momo was pissed the whole date, did you notice? I've never seen her like that. She was super jealous."
Jiji scratched his cheek, looking a bit relieved. "You think so?"
"I know so." Aira smiled. Then, realizing the show was over, she grabbed the lapels of the oversized jacket she was wearing.
"Oh, I'll give you your jacket back."
She started to slide it off her shoulders, but Jiji raised a hand to stop her.
"No, no. You can keep it on."
Aira paused, the jacket halfway down her arms. She blinked, confused. The audience was gone. The act was finished. There was no one left to impress or deceive.
"Really?" she asked, looking at his arms exposed to the biting wind. "Won't you be cold?"
Jiji just smiled, the same goofy, honest smile he always wore. "I told you before, I won't."
Aira pulled the jacket back up, wrapping it tighter around herself. She looked at him and felt a strange flutter in her chest that had nothing to do with the cold. She looked at his easygoing stance, standing there unbothered by the freezing wind just so she could be warm.
"Should we go home?" she asked softly, her voice barely rising above the wind.
"Yeah," Jiji replied.
The walk back to Aira’s house was unusually quiet. Normally, their treks home were filled with loud debates about cryptids, aliens, or Aira’s latest gossip, but tonight, the silence hung heavy and sweet between them. They moved under the rhythmic hum of the streetlights, their footsteps synchronizing on the pavement.
Jiji walked on the outside of the sidewalk, a habit he had every time he walked next to a girl. Despite the biting wind cutting through his thin shirt, he felt a strange, burning warmth radiating from his chest. Every time he glanced sideways, he saw Aira huddled in his oversized track jacket. The sight made his stomach do a complex gymnastic routine.
Although his own house was a few blocks earlier, he walked past his turn without hesitation, escorting her all the way to her front gate. It was just what he did. It was routine. Yet, today, the simple act felt weighted with a new, terrifying significance.
Aira lingered for a moment at the door, offering a final wave before slipping inside. The lock clicked shut, sealing her away and leaving Jiji alone in the silent, freezing street.
He turned to walk away, taking two steps before his legs simply refused to carry him any further.
The adrenaline of the "performance" had evaporated, leaving behind only the raw, unfiltered memory of the last few hours. The sensation of her small, soft hand interlaced with his. The way her eyes had looked when she cleaned his face. The warmth of her breath against his ear.
It hit him all at once, not like a gentle realization, but like a physical blow to the gut.
Jiji groaned, his knees buckling under the weight of the epiphany. He dropped down into a deep squat right there on the sidewalk, burying his face in his hands. He could feel the heat rising up his neck, turning his ears a violent shade of red.
The image of Momo—his supposed crush—tried to surface in his mind, but it was instantly pushed aside by a vision of Aira wearing his jacket.
He wasn't acting.
He was in so much trouble.