Chapter Three: Confession

A commotion stirred in the courtyard as I arrived at school, an unusual buzz for such an early hour. Normally, the courtyard only came alive during lunch breaks, with students sprawled across the grass, eating and chatting. This morning, though, it thrummed with energy, catching my attention despite my best efforts to ignore it.

The hallway to my classroom was packed, students crowding the windows, their gazes fixed downward. “What’s going on?” I muttered under my breath, curiosity finally getting the better of me. With no hope of reaching my classroom anytime soon, I squeezed through a gap in the throng and peered into the courtyard below.

There stood Shizuku, unmistakable even from this distance. Facing her was a male student, his posture bold and confident. Whispers rippled through the crowd around me.

“Hey, you think it’ll work? Yoshioka-senpai’s confession!” one girl said, her voice brimming with excitement.

“He’s the ace of the basketball team, right? He’s got a shot, don’t you think?” another replied.

Yoshioka-senpai, a third-year. I remembered him from last year’s sports festival, dominating the court with sharp, handsome features and a toned physique. Tall, with a stylishly worn uniform, he was the kind of guy who turned heads. Popularity seemed to cling to him effortlessly.

“Kamisaka Shizuku-san! Please go out with me!” His voice carried up to the windows, his hand extended toward her with unwavering conviction. The crowd erupted into cheers, feeding off the drama unfolding below.

“…I’m sorry.” Shizuku’s response was quiet but firm, cutting through the noise.

“No way! W-Wait a second!” Yoshioka-senpai’s voice cracked with desperation, but Shizuku didn’t falter. Brushing off his attempt to stop her, she kept her gaze forward and strode out of the courtyard.

A girl near me let out an exaggerated sigh. “Ugh… Even Yoshioka-senpai got rejected, huh?”

“Didn’t you hear? They say Kamisaka’s dating some older actor or something,” another chimed in.

“Seriously? No wonder she turned him down.”

“She’s got it good, doesn’t she? With looks like that, guys just flock to her.”

“So jealous. Ugh, I wish I had a hot boyfriend like Yoshioka-senpai.”

“Right? But I guess for a super popular model like her, a regular guy just doesn’t cut it.”

“Talk about luxury!” The girls wandered off, their giggles trailing behind them, laced with a snarky edge.

What was so funny about that? Their words left a bitter taste, irritation simmering in my chest. Sure, Shizuku’s beauty was undeniable—a powerful asset, no question. But the idea that it made her life easy, that everything just fell into place because of her looks, felt like a shallow jab. The entertainment industry was a thorny path, and no amount of beauty could shield her from its sharper edges. Hearing her efforts dismissed so casually, trampled under careless gossip, sparked a frustration I couldn’t shake.

◇◆◇

“Hey, Juntaro. What do you think it means to go out with someone?” Shizuku’s voice cut through the quiet hum of Café Mellow that night, catching me off guard.

“Huh?” I blinked, caught by the suddenness of her question.

She tilted her head, waiting for an answer, and I scrambled to gather my thoughts. “W-Well… doesn’t it mean becoming lovers?”

“Pfft… Haha! Obviously, I know that!” Shizuku burst into laughter, her eyes sparkling with amusement. I scratched my cheek, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up.

“Have you ever gone out with someone, Juntaro?”

“Nope.”

“Me neither… Wait, what’s with that surprised look?” she teased, catching the flicker of shock on my face.

“No, it’s just… you’re beautiful and popular, Shizuku. I thought you’d have tons of dating experience.”

“Hey, don’t just compliment me out of nowhere like that!” Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced away, flustered. “I’ve gotten a lot of confessions, sure. Even this morning, there was one.”

“Oh… you mean the one senpai from the basketball team?”

“You saw it too, huh? Were you maybe worried I’d end up dating Yoshioka-senpai?” Her tone was playful, but her eyes searched mine for a reaction.

“Uh, no, I mean…” I started to deny it, but the words caught in my throat. Was I really just watching out of idle curiosity? A strange stirring tugged at my chest, an emotion I couldn’t quite name.

“You were worried, huh? …Hmm?” Shizuku leaned in, her grin widening.

“Are you teasing me again?”

“It’s your fault for reacting in such a fun way, Juntaro. I bet tons of people would want to tease you, not just me.”

“Hrm.” I shot a glance at Utahara-san, who was washing dishes at the counter. She caught my look and waved, a knowing smile on her face. True, she teased me plenty too. I didn’t mind, but I still couldn’t fathom why they found someone as ordinary as me so amusing.

“Well, I’ll keep the teasing in check… But yeah, I’ve had a lot of confessions,” Shizuku continued, her tone softening. “It’s a bit embarrassing, but… yeah, I guess I’m popular. Still, none of them ever really clicked with me. Like, I couldn’t trust any of them.” She tilted her head, stirring her coffee absently with a spoon. “It feels like they’re only looking at my appearance? Not that there’s anything wrong with liking someone for their looks—I think that’s perfectly normal. I use my appearance as a tool too. But the people who’ve confessed to me… it’s like they’re only seeing my looks. They barely even talk to me before confessing. I can’t help but wonder if they actually like who I am inside.”

“Yeah… if they haven’t talked to you much, they wouldn’t know the real you,” I said, nodding.

“Exactly! That’s it. I think all those confessions are just about my looks. But then, what’s the difference between me and some accessory? If it’s just about my appearance, they’d probably be fine with anyone who looks like me.” Exhausted from pouring out her thoughts, Shizuku took a sip of her coffee and let out a small sigh.

“Was Yoshioka-senpai’s confession that bad?”

“No, the confession itself didn’t bother me. It was what I overheard afterward. When I was leaving, I saw Yoshioka-senpai being comforted by his friends. I tried to slip away because it was awkward, but I caught some of their conversation.” Her voice grew quieter, tinged with hurt.

“That girl’s only got her looks going for her. Her personality’s probably awful.”

“She always acts so high and mighty. She’d definitely be a selfish girlfriend.”

“Yeah, and her attitude when she rejected you? So rude. You dodged a bullet.”

She paused, her expression heavy. “Yoshioka-senpai seemed to cheer up after that. It just felt so… empty.”

“If he really liked you, he wouldn’t get over it by badmouthing you,” I said, my voice firm.

“…You think so too, right, Juntaro?” Her eyes met mine, searching for reassurance.

If it were me, I’d be furious if someone spoke ill of a person I cared about—friend or otherwise. Every time I heard people badmouthing Shizuku at school or saw cruel comments online, it left me sad, a simmering anger burning beneath the surface. “In the end, Yoshioka-senpai just wanted to date you if it was convenient. People probably see you as some kind of spectacle.”

“A spectacle…” Shizuku echoed, her voice soft. In her eyes, I saw not anger, but a deep, quiet sadness. “I know you don’t see me that way, Juntaro. That’s why I keep coming to this café. But the moment I step outside, I’m not Kamisaka Shizuku anymore—I’m ‘SHIZUKU’.”

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to turn this into a rant,” she added, her voice small.

“You don’t need to hold back with me. I’m the one who feels bad for not having any clever words to offer.”

“Just listening means a lot to me.” Her smile returned, soft and genuine, and a wave of relief washed over me.

Being a celebrity clearly came with its own struggles, a weight tied to the path she’d chosen. The entertainment world was harsh, its demands likely far heavier than I could ever imagine. Still, one thought lingered, unshakeable: celebrities were people too. The cruel words thrown their way cut deep, leaving sadness and hurt in their wake.

Deep down, everyone should understand that celebrities are human too, carrying the same vulnerabilities as anyone else. “But I also get tons of cheers and praise,” Shizuku said, her voice brightening.

“Your voice is one of them, Juntaro. Getting seen by so many people isn’t something you’d experience in a normal life, right? Sure, there are plenty of tough moments, but there are just as many joyful ones. That’s why I can keep going.”

As she spoke, she clenched her fist in front of her chest, a quiet resolve in her gesture, as if reaffirming her determination to herself.

“Though I could do without the weird rumors,” she added, her tone shifting to mild exasperation.

“Weird rumors?” I asked, tilting my head.

“Yeah, like the one about me dating some older actor. I mean, it’s true someone approached me…”

“So you turned him down?”

“Pretty much. He kept pestering me for my contact info, so rejecting him was a hassle—oh, wait!” Shizuku’s eyes lit up. “Juntaro, we haven’t exchanged contact info yet, have we?”

“Oh, you’re right.” Now that I thought about it, we hadn’t.

Shizuku held out her phone with a grin. “Let’s do it now. It’s a bit late, but still!” And just like that, Shizuku was added to my messaging app. It might not seem like a big deal, but for some reason, it made my chest feel warm.

“Haha, the default icon? So like you, Juntaro,” she teased, glancing at my screen.

“I’m too lazy to change it. I don’t really take photos either.”

Shizuku’s icon was a cute picture of a black cat, its round, yellowish eyes and glossy fur striking. “You have a cat? I didn’t know.”

“No, it’s not mine. It’s my grandma’s cat. His name’s Kuta. Cute, right?”

“Wait, it’s a boy?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know… he kinda reminds me of you.” Looking at the icon, Shizuku’s face somehow came to mind—those pretty, delicate features, that distinct vibe she carried. It just felt like her somehow.

“No way!” she laughed. “My grandma and everyone else said the same thing. Kuta was adopted from a shelter, and get this—the reason they picked him was because he looked like me.”

“Hah, so I wasn’t the only one who thought so.”

“It’s so weird. I don’t think we look alike at all. Plus, he’s not even that friendly with me.”

“Maybe it’s like… kindred spirits? He might think you’re one of his own.”

“What? Do cats even think like that?”

“No idea, but animals seem to have a sharper sense for that stuff.”

“Hmm, I just want to get along with him,” Shizuku said, staring at the icon with a pout. I couldn’t help but chuckle. The Shizuku in magazines and the one sitting in front of me now—they were worlds apart.

“Hey, what’s so funny?”

“Just thinking how cute it is that you’re pondering this.”

“C-Cute?!” Her cheeks flushed, and she huffed. “You’re so blunt, as always… Whatever. Don’t you think you should change your icon? The default one’s kinda lonely.”

“Is it?”

“Totally! Don’t you have something you like?”

“…Coffee, I guess.”

“Then how about making a coffee cup your icon?” Shizuku suggested, her eyes brightening. It was a good idea—I could easily snap a photo of one. I glanced at the coffee cup in front of me, but Shizuku quickly covered it with her hand.

“Not a half-drunk one. You’ve gotta take a picture of a fresh one.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because a fresh one looks better!”

“Is that how it works?”

“Yeah, that’s how it works!” she insisted, her tone playful but firm. Huh. The world of icons was deep. Maybe as deep as coffee. Or was I just clueless?

“A cake with a bite taken out can be cute sometimes, though,” she added. “By the way, does this place not do SNS?”

“We do!” Utahara-san called out, bringing me a coffee refill. She showed us her phone screen, displaying Café Mellow’s SNS account. The media section featured a few photos of coffee, desserts, and the café’s cozy interior. It didn’t have a ton of followers, but the numbers were decent. “I started it recently, hoping it’d help with promotion. It feels like we’re getting a few more new customers because of it.”

“Oh, so that’s why I thought there were more people lately,” I said, nodding. The uptick in customers was especially noticeable on weekends. Now it made sense.

“Your account posts coffee pictures, right? Could you send some to Juntaro?” Shizuku asked.

“Sure thing! Planning to use one as your icon?” Utahara-san replied.

“Yeah. The default icon’s too plain, so I thought it’d be nice to use something Juntaro likes.”

“In that case, I’ll send you a bunch. Use them!” Utahara-san said, and I quickly set one of the coffee photos she sent as my icon. Just changing it made things feel oddly fresh, and I could kind of understand why a default icon felt a bit lonely.

“Nice! This looks way better,” Shizuku said, leaning over to check my screen.

“Yeah, I think so too. I’ll stick with this for a while.” Feeling a bit excited, I asked Utahara-san to send even more photos—drinks other than coffee, desserts, and dishes. My phone’s nearly empty photo folder suddenly felt full. Looking through them, they were all beautifully shot. This could definitely draw more customers through SNS. I was hopeless at this kind of stuff, so I had nothing but respect for their diligence. Maybe I should try taking photos more consciously from now on?

“Seeing them all lined up, I didn’t realize this place had so many menu items,” I said, scrolling through the photos.

“I was surprised too when I started taking photos,” Utahara-san replied. “Even regulars didn’t know about some of the menu items until they saw the SNS. Some said it made them want to try new things, which made me happy.”

I wanted more people to know about the coffee Utahara-san brewed. The café was doing well enough, but there was no harm in it thriving even more. I needed to step up my game too.

“Promotion, huh?” Shizuku mused. “I’d love to let more people know about this place, but… if I openly recommended it, my fans might swarm the place.”

“That’d make it hard for you to come here, Shizuku,” I said.

“Exactly! I need to protect this time slot!” she declared, her voice fierce with determination. Neither Utahara-san nor I wanted Shizuku to feel like she couldn’t relax here. We appreciated the thought of promotion, but her heart was in the right place, and that was enough.

“Still, I want to recommend it to people I trust,” Shizuku added softly. “It’s kind of sad not being able to share the things you love.” Her words carried a quiet weight, lingering in the air between us.