Chapter Four: A Striking “Voice”

Shizuku’s question caught me off guard as she plopped down at Café Mellow, tossing out the topic with her usual casual flair.

“Huh?” I blinked,   the sudden inquiry.

Girls’ clothing? Honestly, it wasn’t something I’d ever given much thought to. “Hmm… maybe clothes that suit the person wearing them?” I offered, grasping for a safe answer.

Shizuku smirked, clearly unimpressed. “That’s such a textbook response. Come on, Juntaro, I want to know your quirks. Like, do you have a thing for miniskirts or sweaters? Something that gets your heart racing?”

“Even if you ask me that…” I trailed off, racking my brain for an answer. Nothing came to mind at first, but then, out of nowhere, an image flickered through my thoughts. “Oh, maybe gym clothes?”

The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. My face burned with embarrassment. “Pfft!” Shizuku burst out laughing, barely containing herself. “Hahahaha! Th-that’s definitely a type of clothing! But that’s, like, hardcore…! Hahaha!”

“…This is embarrassing,” I muttered, wishing I could sink into the floor. It was just a fleeting thought that slipped out, not some deep-seated preference. I’m definitely not a gym clothes fetishist… I think. Wait, now I’m not so sure.

“Phew, that was a good laugh,” Shizuku said, wiping a tear from her eye. “I got to see an unexpected side of you, so I’ll let you off the hook for now.”

“More importantly, why’d you suddenly ask something like that?” I asked, desperate to steer the conversation away from my blunder.

“Hmm? I dunno, just curious about your tastes.” She leaned forward, a playful glint in her eyes. “By the way, which one do you like  ?”

She pulled out her phone and showed me two selfies, likely snapped in a fitting room. One featured a casual white T-shirt paired with loose, black wide-leg pants. The other had a slightly more refined white T-shirt tucked into a light blue mermaid skirt that hugged her figure. Both looked great on her—really great, to the point I couldn’t pick one.

But if I had to choose… “I think I like the wide-leg pants better,” I said after a moment. “The skirt looks good too, but it’s got this elegant vibe that makes you feel a bit unapproachable.”

Shizuku’s eyes lit up. “Ohh, not bad! For someone who claims they’re not into fashion, that’s a pretty solid opinion.”

“Well, I did think about it seriously… but is it right?” I asked, second-guessing myself.

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” she replied, nodding. “I like that earnest side of you, Juntaro. It’s super—uh, I mean, really impressive!” Her words stumbled for a split second, and I wondered if I’d imagined it.

“Ahem! Anyway, moving on…” Shizuku cleared her throat, brushing past the moment. “These two outfits have totally different vibes, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true.” The pants gave off a laid-back, approachable feel, while the skirt carried a more sophisticated air.

“But check this out—they’re actually using the same T-shirt in both.”

“What?” I leaned in, peering at the photos again. Sure enough, upon closer inspection, it was the same white T-shirt in both outfits. It was wild how much the impression shifted just by pairing it with something else. Fashion really was deeper than I’d thought.

“Picking out clothes is such a hassle, you know?” Shizuku sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Especially when you have to do it every day. I love being stylish, but it’s way easier to just rewear the same stuff. Problem is, if you don’t mix things up, people might think, ‘Is that the only outfit you own?’”

“Is that how it works?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Yup. Girls notice that stuff right away. But sometimes you just wanna take it easy, you know? That’s when you switch up the styling—change the accessories, swap out the top or bottom.”

So that’s why I hadn’t noticed it was the same T-shirt. It was all about those clever styling tricks. I didn’t care much about fashion myself, but listening to Shizuku talk about it was honestly pretty fascinating.

“I wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t pointed it out,” I admitted. “Fashion’s like a daily research project, huh?”

“Exactly, just like coffee!” Shizuku grinned, swiping back and forth between the photos to compare them. “On its own, it looks like nothing special, but pair it with something else, and it feels totally different—”

Her finger must’ve slipped, because a different photo suddenly popped up. It was Shizuku, standing in front of a mirror… in her underwear.

My heart seized at the sudden mishap. Frozen like a statue, I barely registered Shizuku’s startled yelp as she snatched her phone back with lightning speed.

“Eek! No, wait! That’s not—! It’s not what you think!” she stammered, her voice a frantic jumble. “This is just for checking my daily style! It’s part of my routine to keep my figure in check!”

Her words tumbled out, but my brain couldn’t process a single one. Shizuku turned her bright red face toward me, her eyes wide with mortification.

“…Did you see?”

“ I blurted, my voice betraying me.

“You’re way too bad at lying!” she shot back, seeing right through me. Figures.

Desperate to rein in my racing thoughts, I chose my words with care. “I saw it, but… it was just a split second, so it didn’t even register. It’s fine, I’ll wipe it from my memory immediately.”

“That kinda hurts my pride as a woman, you know!” Shizuku huffed, her tone shifting to indignation.

“W-what…?” I faltered, caught off guard.

“I make a living off my looks, you know! My body shouldn’t be something you can just forget that easily! Come on, take a good look!”

“No, no, no, wait! That’s not what I meant!” I protested, flailing for words. But Shizuku, her shy demeanor vanishing, shoved the photo of herself in her underwear right in my face, as if daring me to look.

Where did her embarrassment go? And man, I really had to kick myself for my terrible choice of words—or was it even a bad choice?

averted my gaze, but Shizuku doubled down, relentlessly pushing the photo into my field of vision. “Come on, look! My underwear shot. Burn it into your memory.”

“No way…! I’m absolutely not looking…!” I insisted, my voice cracking.

“It hurts my feelings if you say you’re not interested! Come on, look!”

The air between us crackled with this bizarre tug-of-war until a deliberate cough from the counter cut through the chaos.

“Um… there aren’t any other customers right now, so it’s fine, but… talking about naughty stuff makes me embarrassed, you know?” came the voice, laced with awkward amusement.

“We’re so sorry…!” Shizuku and I blurted in unison, bowing our heads as one.

“It’s been swelteringly unbearable lately, hasn’t it?” Shizuku remarked, fanning her chest with a listless expression as she settled into her seat at Café Mellow.

“It’s mid-June already, so summer’s practically knocking,” I replied.

“Summer, huh… Not my favorite. Sunburn, makeup melting—there’s just so much to deal with.”

“Sounds tough. I’m not big on the heat either.” Truth be told, summer’s never been my thing. The oppressive warmth saps my appetite, making even eating feel like a chore. “Still, I don’t totally hate the vibe. Everything’s so bright and lively—it puts you in this carefree, open mood.”

Shizuku nodded, her expression softening. “Yeah, I get that. It’s not all bad.” She paused, then added with a spark in her eyes, “For me, the fact that I can guzzle iced coffee makes it bearable.”

Her enthusiasm was infectious, and she promptly drained the last of her current cup.

“Speaking of which, can I order an iced coffee?”

“Sure thing.” I relayed the order to Utahara-san, who flashed an “okay” sign with her fingers.

“Purely out of curiosity…” Shizuku leaned forward slightly, “is iced coffee just hot coffee that’s been cooled down?”

“In simple terms, yeah. But for iced coffee, it’s better to use deep-roasted beans with stronger bitterness since chilling dulls that flavor.” I explained how cold drinks mute bitterness but amplify acidity. Light-roasted beans, with their mild bitterness and pronounced acidity, can taste overly sharp when iced. “That’s why deep-roasted beans are the go-to for iced coffee—more bitter, less acidic.”

“Oh, so light-roasted beans are better for hot coffee?”

“It’s all about taste. Light-roasted hot coffee goes down smooth, but if you’re into bold bitterness, deep-roasted beans hit the spot. There’s no universal rule.”

“Got it. That’s kinda intricate but fascinating. I bet your mood or even the day’s vibe shifts what you’re craving.”

“Exactly, you nailed it.” People’s preferences are endlessly diverse—no right or wrong. That’s what makes coffee so captivating yet complex. And Utahara-san, with her knack for tailoring each brew to a customer’s taste, is nothing short of a master.

“Here you go~! Your iced coffee,” Utahara-san chirped, setting the glass on the table with a pleasant clink of ice.

“Thank you!” Shizuku’s eyes gleamed as she took the glass, the glistening water droplets on its surface sparkling like a gem under the café’s soft lighting. It was the kind of sight that instantly pulled you into summer mode. I’d drink iced coffee even in winter, but on a scorching day like this, it was pure perfection.

“Mmm! So good! It’s super refreshing!” Shizuku exclaimed after a sip, her glass already half-empty.

“Glad you like it~! Let me know if you want a refill, okay?” Utahara-san said with a grin.

“Will do!” Shizuku’s enthusiasm was clear—she’d probably be asking for that refill soon. At Café Mellow, a cup of coffee runs 450 yen, but refills are just 100 yen, a steal that  regulars coming back for Utahara-san’s expertly brewed blends.

“It’s cold, it’s crisp… I could chug this stuff!” Shizuku said, her voice bright with delight.

“I hear you. It goes down way faster than hot coffee.” I knew it wasn’t the best for hydration, but on days this hot, I couldn’t resist gulping it down either.

“By the way,” Shizuku said, her tone shifting lightly, “my drama’s

“Oh, right. It’s already that time?” I replied, caught off guard.

The drama where Shizuku stars as the lead is set to premiere in July—less than a month away now. When she first told me about it, it seemed so distant, but time had slipped by, and now it was almost here.

“Juntaro, you’re going to watch it, right?” she asked, her eyes searching mine.

“Of course,” I answered without hesitation. A friend starring in a drama, and as the lead no less? That’s a rare chance, one I wouldn’t miss. I’m not usually glued to dramas, but supporting her is a given, and I’m genuinely curious to see her shine.

“Then… let me know what you think after,” she said, her voice softening. “And, um, maybe console me a bit if you don’t mind.”

Console her? The words hung in the air, puzzling me. Had she messed something up? A flicker of concern crossed my mind, but before I could press further, Shizuku deftly steered the conversation elsewhere.

That day, she didn’t mention the drama again. It wasn’t until the day after the premiere that I finally understood what

The day of the drama’s broadcast had finally arrived. Even I, someone who rarely bothered with TV, found myself glued to the screen minutes before it began.

To put it simply, it was incredible. Maybe I’m no seasoned critic, but from start to finish, I was hooked. Shizuku’s acting was captivating, and the story struck a perfect balance—humorous yet layered with compelling mystery elements that kept me riveted.

Right after the broadcast, I sent Shizuku my thoughts, pouring out my excitement, but her reply still hasn’t come. She’s probably swamped with filming and couldn’t make it to school today—her desk sits empty, a quiet reminder of her absence. Part of me worries she’s pushing herself too hard, but I don’t want to bombard her with messages and add to her stress. For now, I’ll just wait.

“Hey, did you catch Shizuku’s drama yesterday?!”

The familiar chatter of the girls nearby broke through my thoughts.

“I watched it! Her acting was pretty bad, wasn’t it?”

The words hit like a slap. What?

“Right?! She totally stuck out like a sore thumb!”

“Well, she’s a model, not an actress, so I guess it makes sense.”

“Then maybe she shouldn’t have taken the role in the first place.”

Their cackling laughter grated against my ears, sharp and unbearable. What was so funny about it? It was Shizuku’s first attempt, so of course there might be a few rough edges. She’s a beginner, but she poured her heart into keeping up with the others. To me, her performance felt genuine, not  in the slightest. That role was the fruit of Shizuku’s relentless effort.

It stung—cut deep, even—that they couldn’t see it. The urge to snap back at them burned fiercely in my chest.

“Ugh… what a mess,” Shizuku muttered, her gaze fixed blankly on her phone screen at Café Mellow.

“I thought I did a decent job with my acting, but maybe I was just fooling myself.”

The response on social media hadn’t been kind, it seemed. I’d checked some of the comments myself—plenty were fair critiques, pointing out areas to improve, but others were downright vicious, the kind that twisted your stomach to read.

“Try not to let social media get to you,” I said, knowing full well how hollow that advice sounded. “I know it’s easier said than done, but for what it’s worth, I thought your acting was great, Shizuku.”

“Thanks.” She glanced up, her voice soft. “You’re not just being nice, right?”

“No way. You were seriously cool out there.”

Her sad eyes softened, a faint flicker of relief crossing her face. “…Good. It means a lot to know someone thinks so.”

Even so, her shoulders slumped slightly as she spoke again. “But my acting was lacking. I have to own up to the criticism.”

“Come on, it was your first time acting. Nobody’s perfect right out of the gate—”

“Thanks for the encouragement, Juntaro,” she interrupted, flashing a small smile. “But I need to face my shortcomings head-on.”

Her eyes gleamed with quiet determination, a spark that made anything I could say feel inadequate. That look told me she wasn’t about to back down.

“Actors are incredible,” she went on. “When we’re just talking, they seem so ordinary, but the moment they start acting, it’s like they become someone else entirely.”

Becoming someone else? I could never manage that. I struggle just to put on a brave face most days.

“Inamori-san, especially—she’s on a whole other level, even among the cast. When she’s acting, even her face seems to transform into someone else’s.”

Shizuku’s voice lit up as she talked about Inamori Reiko. Apparently, they’d grown close, close enough for Shizuku to call her a big sister. “She even gave me acting tips… but the first episode was kind of a letdown, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t call it a letdown,” I countered. “There are tons of people praising you, too, you know.”

“…Yeah, you’re right.”

It was so easy to zero in on the criticism, but plenty of people were singing Shizuku’s praises. Sure, some were probably just loyal fans cheering her on, but even setting those aside, her performance genuinely deserved recognition. I believed that wholeheartedly, even if it felt presumptuous to think I could convince her of it.

“There are people like you who mean it when they praise me, Juntaro,” she said quietly. “I know that in my head, but why do I keep fixating on the bad comments?”

I understood exactly how she felt. I don’t often find myself in the spotlight, but I’ve been there a time or two. It reminded me of Café Mellow.

To me, this place was perfect. The coffee was rich and fragrant, the owner was a genuinely good guy, and most of the customers were warm, creating a cozy atmosphere. The decor had a slightly retro charm, but everything was spotless. The prices were reasonable, welcoming to anyone who walked through the door. That was my take on Café Mellow. But even so, negative reviews still cropped up.

The coffee was good, but the vibe’s too old-school.

The menu’s hard to read.

Got banned for no reason. Worst place ever.

Those comments had hit me hard, leaving me stunned. I could understand complaints about the vibe or the menu—tastes differ, after all. But the bans? Those were for people being disruptive, shouting, or relentlessly hitting on Utahara-san, bothering everyone  . It was their own fault, not the café’s. Yet they dragged the place’s rating down anyway, and I couldn’t shake the unfairness of it.

There were far more people who loved Café Mellow than those who complained. But those harsh words still lingered in the back of my mind, gnawing at me. If a single bad review could weigh on me this much, I could only imagine how Shizuku felt, with her performance under scrutiny by countless eyes.

I hesitated, searching for the right words, but before I could find them, Shizuku’s expression shifted, resolve settling over her like a quiet fire.

“Juntaro,” she said firmly, “I’m going to keep pushing forward.”

Shizuku downed her iced coffee, her fists clenching in front of her chest with newfound determination. “By the finale, I’ll show everyone even better acting! I’ll own up to my flaws, fix them, and move more people. I’m not done yet!”

“That’s the spirit!” I replied, my voice brimming with encouragement. Shizuku’s resolve burned bright, and I had no intention of dampening it. If she was this fired up, I’d cheer her on with everything I had.

“Now that I’m all pumped up, I’m kinda hungry,” she said, a spark of excitement in her eyes. “Juntaro, mind if I order something?”

“In that case… how about something sweet? I’ve got a killer new menu item.”

“Sounds great! Make it something delicious!”

“Leave it to me,” I said confidently, heading to the kitchen to whip up the special dish. I returned swiftly and gently placed the plate in front of Shizuku.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Before I could gauge her reaction, Shizuku let out an excited squeal. “Wow! That looks amazing!”

On the plate sat a freshly baked waffle, crowned with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and drizzled with maple syrup. “Actually, a customer gave us a waffle maker,” I explained. “It’s still in the prototype phase, not on the menu yet, but I wanted you to try it—as a celebration for the first episode airing successfully, and as a taste test. No charge, of course.”

“You’re spoiling me this much?” Shizuku asked, her tone teasing but delighted.

“I’m the one asking you to try it, so don’t hold back.”

“…Alright then, here goes!” She dug in with enthusiasm. I’d taste-tested it a few times myself, and Utahara-san had given it rave reviews. I was hoping Shizuku would feel the same.

“Mmm! This is delicious!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up.

“Really? That’s a relief,” I said, unable to stop myself from clenching my fist in excitement. Utahara-san had mentioned we could add it to the menu depending on Shizuku’s reaction, and with this kind of response, we might just get the green light.

“The sweetness is melting my brain… This is practically dangerous,” Shizuku said, her voice half-joking. “It’s gonna create a bunch of addicts.”

“Well, that part’s… on you, I guess,” I replied with a grin.

“Oh, you’re a sly one, aren’t you?” Shizuku shot back, her mischievous smile matching mine. I’d thought the same when I tried it—the combination of maple syrup and vanilla ice cream was an absolute perfect match. I totally understood why she said it was melting her brain. I’d even made the waffle itself less sweet to keep the impact just right.

“But this has got to be loaded with calories, right…?” Shizuku mused, her voice trailing off.

“I did cut down the portion size with that in mind…” I said, and we both ended up staring off into the distance. Delicious things always seemed to come with a high calorie count. How cruel.

“As expected from Juntaro, you’re so thoughtful,” Shizuku said, her tone warm. “This portion’s perfect for a treat. But if I ate this every day, it’d show up on my figure in no time.”

“Y-Yeah, that’s pretty intense…” I muttered, suddenly  . Glancing down at my own stomach, I reassured myself. Yup, still safe for now.

While I was lost in thought, Shizuku polished off the waffle. Apparently, pairing it with coffee softened the sweetness just enough, though she warned it made the treat dangerously easy to keep eating, requiring extra caution.

“Phew… Thanks for the treat. That was a blissful moment,” she said, leaning back with a satisfied sigh.

“Glad you enjoyed it. Come back for more anytime.”

“Ugh… When you say that, I already want another one,” Shizuku groaned, slumping her shoulders dramatically. Yet her face had a certain glow, a quiet happiness that warmed the air. “You’re starting to look like  devil, Juntaro.”

If this cheered her up even a little, I thought, then I’m more than satisfied.