Chapter Text

Our next obstacle was the Cultural Association. On campus, the CA controlled all the logistics for organizing events that didn’t have to do with job fairs, sports, or other stuff like that. If you wanted to pass out flyers, you had to go through them. If you even just wanted to borrow a table for a couple hours on a Friday afternoon, you had to go through them.

Shinbo and Kawanaka had submitted an application, but they’d been bogged down in red tape. The CA office wouldn’t give them the time of day, and the girls stopped trying to argue because it felt like a waste of time. That’s why I offered to go talk with the CA and try to get it figured out.

The CA president, Nakagawa, was a hard man to get a hold of. The CA had offices, but he wasn’t around. I had to pester neighboring student government offices just to get a hold of his email address. He didn’t seem to want to meet with me, but he said he would be studying in the common area of the mechanical engineering building all day, so if I needed to talk to him, I had to come to him.

When I found him, the president didn’t seem to care much about our request. He said I had five minutes; he had a midterm on statics, and he needed to concentrate. If we needed a table and permission to distribute flyers, all that was going to take time—a lot more time than we had, given that we wanted to be up and running by two o’clock the next day. “There’s a process for all this,” he said, not even looking up from his textbook. “You have to ask for a table and prove it’ll be used for a legitimate purpose. You’re doing a book drive; the library committee will want to get involved. We have to evaluate if there’s enough bulletin board space. People don’t want flyers just everywhere on campus. You want me to do all of this in twenty-four hours? Get real.”

“It would’ve been a lot easier if you’d listened to my friends a little more yesterday,” I pointed out. “Then you would’ve had twice as much time.”

“Well, yesterday is gone,” he said, “and my test is tomorrow. I’m sorry it puts you in a tight situation, but there’s nothing I can do.”

Sure, whatever. He was a busy guy, and the student government kinda sucked. He was basically the president of nobody, with only a minimal staff of volunteers who were all students like he was. I apologized for taking his time, and I left him alone.

We would need more serious firepower for this. I headed down a hallway and turned a corner, where Mizuhara was waiting. “No luck,” I told her. “I think it’s your turn.”

Mizuhara didn’t answer; she was too busy painting her nails. There was a small decorative mirror on the wall, and when Mizuhara handed me her bottle of crimson nail polish to put away, she took one last look at herself in the mirror and fixed her hair.

Our secret weapon: the one and only Chizuru Mizuhara, in full rental girlfriend mode! Even the most studious and bureaucratic student government official would be enchanted with her. Even someone obsessed with lever arms and the tension in cables would focus all his attention on the normal force exerted by Mizuhara’s breasts against her dress.

Mizuhara was a woman of a thousand styles, and that day, she was going for a vibe of “innocent, charming, and desperate college student.” In that warm weather before summer officially started, she wore a white sundress with floral accents. It was comfortable, casual, and showed plenty of skin.

When she was through adjusting a few loose strands of hair, she looked back in the mirror with a serious “game face” expression. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s do this.” And just like that, she transformed in front of me. The way she carried herself, the way she walked—they went from “Ichinose” one moment to “Mizuhara” the next.

A woman in heels can walk in many different ways. Mizuhara’s steps were just gentle enough to say she was tentative and concerned. That’s how she approached the CA president: holding folders with one arm, she leaned over, showing her neckline and allowing her hair to fall to one side. She was far enough away I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but I did see her smile at him, and he hurriedly cleared part of the table for her to sit down. He hadn’t bothered to do that for me. She was in.

It gave me a funny feeling to watch Mizuhara work. The only times I’d ever seen her with another guy was that time with Umi over Christmas, or once when I caught a glimpse of her with another client from a distance. I’d never had the chance to watch her work. I’d seen her act, but that’s different: there’s a script, and everyone there is playing a role. I wondered for a moment if this was like improv, but in hindsight, I don’t think it is. What Mizuhara had to do was play a role and make it seem like she was completely genuine. She had to sell that she was concerned and afraid about this effort she and her friends had made. Was it all going to be for nothing? She had to ask for help, and maybe, just maybe, she had to seem like she thought the CA president was admirably serious, hardworking, and diligent for his dedication to the process.

Mizuhara used her charm very well. It was kind of sad—to see that guy, who had hardly bothered with me, hanging on her every word. I loved Mizuhara, but I also knew it made me stupid sometimes. This guy was acting incredibly stupid, and he’d just met her. Prez, you can’t let a girl make you act stupid!

Okay, so I was being a little hypocritical. Well, it was in our interests anyway. We needed Mizuhara to work her magic on this guy, and so far, it was working. All we needed was to avoid any unforeseen complications… like Kibe catching me watching from the hallway. “Kazuya?” he said. “What are you doing here?”

I wanted to say that’s what I’d like to know! but that would’ve been stupid. Kibe’s family was in construction. I’d known all semester he had a class on elevators, escalators, and other people moving systems. Why the hell did the CA president have to study here, of all places?

“Ah, well, it’s funny I should run into you here!” I said, trying to act natural. “You know I’m helping those girls from the LINE group, right? I just had a chat with the Cultural Association president. I think he’s going to help us out.”

“Oh, is that so? Good for you.” He snapped his fingers. “I knew I should’ve offered, but I just didn’t think I had the time.”

I backed up a couple steps, trying to take the study area out of view. If Kibe just looked to his left, he’d see Mizuhara sitting with the CA president, and who knew what could happen? If I just wandered kinda aimlessly, I could sneak us out of the way, and Mizuhara would be safe.

“I know Sasapai and Shinbo have to have a thing,” Kibe went on, “but the other girls are single, right? I could’ve been in your shoes, with an inside track on nabbing one. Maybe that Kawanaka girl. What do you think?”

I looked out of the corner of my eye. The corner of the wall blocked my sight of Mizuhara, but Kibe was in front of me and could still see them if he looked. I took another two steps back, pretending to find somewhere to lean on. “Uh,” I said, “not Ichinose?”

“C’mon,” said Kibe, scoffing. “She doesn’t seem fun. Back on her birthday, and it seemed like as soon as we walked in, all she wanted to do was get out of there. She’s the type that just tolerates having a boyfriend to get her family off her back.”

I was annoyed on Mizuhara’s behalf, but there was no way I could argue without making it worse. I smiled and nodded, even as Kibe griped that this opportunity was wasted on me, and I was hogging these girls’ attention even though I already had a girlfriend.

“So?” asked Kibe. “What are you hanging around here for?”

I told him I was waiting to hear back from one of the girls, and that got Kibe’s attention. Was it Kawanaka? I couldn’t say if she would come first or what the deal was. He wanted to look at my phone, but I said it was a private chat. Kibe started acting suspicious. Why was I being so evasive? Was I having some kind of secret affair with one of those girls? I tried to tell him it wasn’t anything like that, but then something happened that only made things worse.

“Hey,” said Mizuhara, peering around the corner. “Why are you hiding? What’s the—” Then she saw Kibe. “Oh.”

“Chizuru!” Kibe bowed at the waist. “Hello!”

“Hello!” said Mizuhara, visibly anxious. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

“No, no! Kazuya didn’t tell me he was waiting for you.” He glared at me. “I wish I would’ve heard about that sooner.”

“Well, it’s complicated…” I said, and that was the understatement of the year. Mizuhara still had the paperwork she’d brought to the CA president to get filled out. How was she going to explain that? Could I say that my girlfriend had volunteered to help the other girls out? Didn’t that make me look bad?

I thought it couldn’t get any worse. I was wrong. While Mizuhara and I were looking at each other trying to figure out what to say, the CA president came up to her. “I’m sorry, Ichinose?”

Mizuhara froze. Kibe looked on in confusion. I wanted to die.

“Y-yes?” said Mizuhara.

“I just wanted to tell you one more thing,” said the president, offering a business card. “I think all the arrangements should be in order, but if you have any trouble tomorrow, you can reach me here, and I’ll do everything I can.” He leaned closer. “And if you want to talk to me before then, that’s okay, too.”

“I understand,” said Mizuhara with a smile, and she gingerly accepted the card. The CA president left, and I don’t think he even realized Kibe and I were there.

Kibe blinked for a few moments. “Why does that guy think you’re Ichinose?”

“That—” I began.

“That’s because—” said Mizuhara.

We all looked at each other, and the first dumb idea in my head just came out.

“That’s because she is Ichinose!” I said.

Mizuhara looked like she could kill me with a papercut aimed at my jugular.

“Get out of here, Kazuya,” said Kibe. “What are you trying to pull?”

“It’s really Ichinose,” I insisted. “My girlfriend gave her a makeover so she could talk to the Cultural Association and ‘persuade’ them.”

Kibe’s eyes narrowed. Was he trying to conjure up some image of Chizuru “Mizuhara” to compare with “Ichinose”? “You,” he said, still unsure. “You’re really Ichinose?”

Mizuhara kept watching me for guidance, but all I could do was nod anxiously. She sighed, and “Mizuhara” became “Ichinose” again, folding her arms and guarding herself. “Look, I know it’s weird and doesn’t really suit me,” she said. “I just did what she told me to do. I can’t wait to get home and get out of these clothes.” She handed me the documents. “Are we done?”

“I think you’re being hard on yourself,” said Kibe. “You look great.”

“C’mon, Kibe,” I said.

“I’m serious. Ichinose, I really thought you were his girlfriend! You look just like her! You can totally pull this style off if you want to.”

Mizuhara shot me a look like make it stop, but I didn’t know what to do! Kibe was Kibe. There was no controlling him!

“Listen,” Kibe went on, “maybe a lot of guys have overlooked you before just based on how you dressed, but they didn’t really look at you.”

This guy—and I thought I was cringeworthy. Just two minutes ago, Kibe, you were saying you’d never consider dating her!

“Listen,” said Mizuhara, “Kazuya and I need to do stuff with this paperwork.”

Kibe shot me a look, as if to say you lucky bastard. “I don’t know how you’re doing it, dude. Share some of the magic with me someday.” With that, he took off. Mizuhara and I watched him go, and neither of us spoke until Kibe was out of earshot. Mizuhara was the first to breathe again, and she said,

“Kazuya, what the fuck just happened?”

I felt like I could throw up but had to hold it down. There was too much to do. The library wanted to know that we had a table; that would increase our order of boxes, and they’d send a car to pick up the books, so we wouldn’t have to lug them all the way to a branch.

To make sure everything was straightened out, Mizuhara and I headed away from the ME department and anyone we thought might know us, and we took a table at a coffee shop while I took care of some of things on my laptop. Mizuhara was kind enough to order drinks for the both of us. I was so out of it, I don’t think I realized it happened until she came back with the drinks.

This was all my idea. I was the one who said Mizuhara could be “persuasive.” I put her in that position, where she had to go along with it or be seen as causing trouble, and if I’d just stopped and not tried to fix it, everything would’ve been fine. I could’ve told Kibe that Mizuhara was just impersonating Ichinose, and he would’ve understood. God, I needed to throw up.

“Hey, drink something,” said Mizuhara. “You look sick.”

“You’re not upset?”

She sat back and frowned. “Well,” she admitted, “that was a real clusterfuck, but what are we gonna do about it now?” We could’ve come up with a better explanation for Kibe, but what was done was done, and we’d just have to stick with it.

That didn’t make me feel much better, though. I never should’ve pressured her into switching to girlfriend mode to get this done. I thought it was something she could do that no one else could. I can’t believe how stupid I was.

“There’s no point in beating yourself up over it,” she told me. “I agreed to this. I knew the risks. I thought it was the best thing to do. It was stupid of me not to think about this possibility, too. We’re both human. It’s only natural that we act like fools sometimes.”

“You’ve never struck me as foolish,” I said. "You always seem like you know what you’re doing, like you think there’s a way for even an idiot like me to get through things.

“Maybe I just hide it well.” She stared out the window. “Lately, I feel like I’m not myself anymore. Like the other day…” She trailed off and frowned for a minute before continuing. “Someone I know was having a problem, and he told me he had it figured out. He didn’t need help, but I felt like I had to. It was like something else was in control of me.”

“I know how that is,” I said.

She tilted her head. “You do?”

Of course I did. Every time I was with Mami, sometimes with Ruka, and certainly with Mizuhara (though I tried to downplay that part), it felt like reason was something I had only a loose hold of. It wasn’t just cute girls but when they made me feel like they cared, like I was special—it was the kind of thing that made me feel like I could run through a train and come out unscathed. And because of that, I felt like I was fucking up around them constantly. “Girls like you,” I said to Mizuhara, “are like kryptonite. Even now, even like this, I don’t feel completely relaxed. There’s a part of me that worries about everything coming out of my mouth.”

Mizuhara frowned, and she drummed her fingers on the table. “I guess I see that,” she said, seeming unhappy for some reason, “but don’t you get tired of that? Like, I know some guys get overwhelmed when I take them out, and I’m not saying girls don’t get that way, too, but it just seems like a mess of anxiety, and you don’t get the chance to enjoy yourself. When I’m working, that’s what I try to do. I try to tell my clients, ‘Just relax. I’m not going anywhere.’ You know?”

“That’s because you’re not on the same script as your clients,” I pointed out. “You play a girlfriend who loves effortlessly. She’s not falling in love; she’s already there, even when you play her like it’s a first date, but for guys like me, we start falling in love with you, and it’s giddy and anxious and nerve-wracking.”

Mizuhara looked at me like I’d said something stunning and horrible. I felt her withdraw a bit, and her usually confident and even-keeled voice seemed small. “I asked you before if you’d fallen in love with me. You said no, but that wasn’t entirely true, was it?”

I tensed up. “Mizuhara—”

“The truth is, you did fall in love with me a little bit, didn’t you?” she said. “With Chizuru Mizuhara, the girl who doesn’t really exist.”

How should I even respond to that? “…yes,” was what I finally answered, not knowing where to look.

“And sometimes, you must see something in me that reminds you of her,” she concluded. “That’s uncomfortable, isn’t it?”

She was watching me carefully. It was a nice and sincerely delivered, but it was in fact an interrogation.

“A little,” I admitted, “but I realized a long time ago that that’s not really you. I don’t get those feelings just because I see something like that in you anymore.” Which was technically true–I just had those feelings all the time.

“So you got over it?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever truly get over it,” I said. “That’s what it means to fall in love.”

Mizuhara looked deeply dissatisfied with that answer, and at first I thought she was taking it too personally, but after I rewound our conversation in my head for a bit, I realized what was really bothering her: Mizuhara had said she felt like she was no longer herself, and I said I knew exactly that feeling because it was love.

“Mizuhara,” I said, “is there someone you like?”

“No!” The answer was immediate, and I could tell by the look on her face she didn’t like how it sounded coming out of her mouth. “I don’t know…?”

I could’ve cried. Was it her friend, Umi? Maybe, if I knew, it would feel real, and I would be able to let her go the way I should’ve a long time ago.

“I feel like I don’t know what I’m seeing, what I’m hearing…” She sighed. “There’s nothing warm or happy about that. It’s just anxiety piled on top of doubt. If that’s how falling in love is, it’s disappointing.”

I could relate to that. I’d fallen in love a bunch of times, and they were all hopeless. Mami hit me the hardest, but she’d also said something that I thought was really wise: “There are a lot of ways to love someone and fall in love with someone,” she’d said at the time, when I worried that I loved her in a way she didn’t. “Sometimes you just have to work a bit to find it.”

I told Mizuhara that, but she still seemed uncertain, and maybe it was best not to think about that. She had a job to do, roles to land, and an ailing grandmother to take care of. She couldn’t give her all to anything outside of that, certainly not on something she viewed as “uncertain,” perhaps even “pointless.”

It took everything I had to swallow my pride and try to give her the best advice I could. “Mizuhara,” I said, “if there’s someone you like, or even if you just feel drawn to them or like you want them to be more involved in your life, go for it. Go for it, and don’t sweat the details. If they want to be a part of your life, they’ll find a way to make it work. And if it doesn’t work, that’s not so bad, is it? They tried, and they wanted to be with you. Even if it doesn’t work out now, maybe it will in the future—when you’re a famous actress and don’t have to work yourself to the bone to get there. There’s too much in the future that you can’t anticipate. The only thing you know is what you’re feeling right now.”

Mizuhara went quiet for a time, looking at her drink. “I’ll need to think about that,” she said finally, “but thank you. I appreciate the advice.” She even cracked a smile. “Seems like I’m the one coming to you for support today. Have you ever thought of becoming a rental boyfriend?”

I sputtered. “I could never!”

“Relax!” She laughed. “I know it’s not for everyone. Still…” She took out a few bills. “I’ll cover the drinks today. No arguing!”

Like Hell I was happy about a girl paying for me, but at the same time, it was an offer of gratitude from her. How could I say no?

I still had another class, so Mizuhara and I were going to go separate ways for the day, but before as we were saying our goodbyes, she offered me something: a wooden token, like the ones she threw at my balcony door from time to time.

“If you need a friendly ear, I’m just one door down,” she said, holding the token in front of me with an open hand.

“So the bill wasn’t enough?” I asked. “This is… another show of gratitude?”

“Not gratitude,” she corrected me. “It’s an invitation. I said before that we went past ‘just a lie,’ but that’s just the tip of the iceberg, isn’t it? You’re doing something to help out my friends. We’ve gone past a ‘professional relationship’ a long time ago, too.”

Still, I hesitated, in part because I was unsure how to take the token without touching too much of her hand. She was offering something in friendship; I absolutely could not come off as creep when accepting it!

“It’s okay,” she said, looking away slightly. “It’s normal, isn’t it?”

I hoped so.

I took the token between my thumb and index finger. It was small and light. Amazing to think it could make such a sharp sound when thrown against my balcony door. I tucked it away in my pocket, and, well, in spite of hearing that Mizuhara might have someone she liked, I was moved. I know it seems pathetic, but I admired everything she’d done. She helped me so much, but for her to offer me something like this, to say that I mattered enough that she wanted to have me as part of her life outside of a rental girlfriend and her client… I was overwhelmed.

“Thanks,” I said weakly, smiling but also feeling like I was gonna lose it.

“Hey!” she said. “Are you serious right now? You don’t have to get like this.”

“But it’s not bad, is it?” I said, wiping my face with my sleeve. “You’ve helped me out so much. I’m happy I can give a little back to you, that you’re a part of my life.”

For the first time since we left Kibe behind, her uneasiness truly melted away, and though the setting sun was bright and blinding behind her, her smile outshined it. “Yeah,” she said. “Me too.”