Chapter 5: Akita (3)

Akita (3)

Reluctantly, I must confess—going on dates with the princess is actually… pleasant. Just having someone close by makes even idle time feel gentle, unhurried, and warm. And yet… could she be finding it dull?

In truth, she’s the one who almost always calls to ask me out. Even when I try suggesting something, the final say ends up in her hands. I never know where to take her. I’m just a delinquent—what does a normal date even look like? I honestly have no idea. It’s not like I can take her to a soapland or something.

A bar, a shopping mall, the movies? Yeah… she’s the one who picks, most of the time. The only place I might’ve suggested myself was that bar where we first met. I’ve made a lot of friends among the regulars there, but even so, I can’t shake the feeling I’m wasting her time.

The first time I ever set foot in a café was when Fuzuki took me. I loved how cozy it felt. But Fuzuki’s the kind who doesn’t linger—just grabs a quick break, sips some coffee, and heads home. It’s clearly a good place, with soft music drifting through the air like a lullaby.

She came with me once to see an underground band. But she got weirdly into it—shouting, moving around with the music. I even started to wonder, maybe I should just take her to a soapland. Would that be okay? …No, no way. Every woman there would definitely be against it. Probably rightfully so. And when she saw me struggling to plan the next date, she decided for me. That time, she looked seriously annoyed.

My dad died young. My mom raised me on her own. We didn’t have money, and I couldn’t go out with friends. But I still felt like things were okay. I could be alone, and still feel at ease.

Later on, my mom remarried—a guy from her company. That was a good thing, right? She looked happy. After my little brother and sister were born, my mom and my stepdad smiled a lot more. It was nice to see. But watching the four of them together… I realized something. They were a family. And I was just someone who lived in the same house.

It’s not like my stepdad did anything wrong. But the atmosphere around them—that easy, natural warmth—always made me feel slightly off. Like I didn’t fit in. So I started spending more time outside. Hanging around with strange people. Got expelled for fighting at school.

Every time my mom had to go apologize for me, her face twisted, like she was fighting back tears, but still trying to smile. As if she was saying, “If only you weren’t here… I could be happy.” That’s when I ran away.

So no—I’ve never had the luxury of thinking about where to go on a date. It feels like happiness is something I’m not allowed to touch.

After that, we gave dating another try. A few times, actually. But she always seemed a little sad. Eventually, I realized—I’m not good at talking. Not really. And every time, I’d been dragging her along with me. Forcing her, without meaning to. I thought maybe it was time to end things. So I said it.

“No! Please don’t! Don’t leave me!”

“Maybe… we just don’t belong together.”

“If there’s love, we can overcome anything!”

She really was a pure-hearted princess. But reality doesn’t bend so easily.

We tried again, and again. But the thought of breaking up kept returning, and every time, I couldn’t go through with it. And every time, she came looking for me.

I remember showing up to a date once, all banged up. She dragged me home and treated my wounds. When she looked at them… her face—

It was exactly like my mom’s, the day she apologized. And that look—it stabbed straight through me.

I thought about leaving again. But she waited for me all night at the bar where we first met. Even though she’s a busy teacher… I know. It’s my fault. In the end, even the bar’s owner stepped in. Told me, “Don’t hurt her.”

After that, I started living at her place. It’s a quiet, safe neighborhood. Just having that address made finding work a little easier. At first, I tried the night shift at a convenience store. The pay… wasn’t much different from any other hourly job.

Eventually, I found a job at a factory—full-time. The pay was low, and the work was punishing. But when I told Fuzuki, she lit up and threw her arms around me. That night, she said we should celebrate, so we went to a small restaurant by the station. She paid. And I… couldn’t help but feel a sting of shame.

Around then, I started learning to cook and clean. I was only working part-time back then, but I had time—time I wanted to use to lighten her load, even just a little.

Later, Fuzuki encouraged me to start night school. I’m studying now for a job that might lead to a future—maybe even a promotion someday. She’d already gathered all the information, even offered to cover the cost. And once again… that guilt settled in.

“You dummy. What’s yours is mine, so stop worrying about it, okay?”

The feeling of holding a pen again, opening a textbook again… it was something special. I want to remember that feeling—always.

I decided, quietly, to start saving money for her sake. It wasn’t an expensive ring, but I used up all the savings I had.

On the second anniversary of the day we met, I proposed. At that same bar where it all began.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes!”

The bar’s owner and the regulars all burst into cheers.

Life isn’t simple. But in that moment—for the first time—I felt like maybe, just maybe… I could walk this path.