Chapter 23: Jealousy
They reached the summit in a single push, stopping only once at a rest hut along the way.
Alan checked the time. 13:14.
They had started around ten-thirty, nearly two hours of slow climbing, pausing to catch their breath, stopping for photos.
Honne had come thoroughly prepared. Her tote bag held makeup, sunscreen, bandages, even a proper camera.
Photos weren’t allowed at the shrine, so Alan took pictures of her by the waterfall and on the bridge instead.
At the summit stood a sign proclaiming “One of Kanto’s 100 Best Views of Mount Fuji.” Unfortunately, thick clouds hid the mountain completely. Bad luck. Even so, Alan snapped several shots of Honne against the layered ridgelines stretching into the distance.
The Akari sisters both photographed beautifully, though in entirely different ways.
Hojo carried a serene, mature elegance, even her accidental softness felt deliberate, almost reverent.
Honne, on the other hand, was petite and radiant, her charm playful and bright, sharpened by sunlight.
Alan dared a single glance, pressed the shutter, then handed her the camera.
Her eyes lit up. She pursed her lips in exaggerated satisfaction.
“Not bad, Alan. I knew you’d come through.”
Ignoring the jab, he turned toward the ramen stand.
“Hungry? After lunch, we’ll take the cable car down.”
“Cable car? Already?” Honne scrunched up her nose.
Alan glanced at the sweat beading her forehead, at her slender legs, and said nothing.
She caught the doubt instantly and tapped his shoulder with a tiny fist.
“Meanie. You’re always underestimating me…”
She couldn’t bring herself to hit hard, it came out more like a girlfriend’s playful shove.
Grumbling, she dragged him toward the ramen shop.
“My treat. It’s my birthday.”
Alan glanced at the menu board.
Chashu ramen—¥950. Extra toppings—¥100.
Peak-season prices. Daylight robbery.
“Expensive noodles,” he muttered. “Did you win the lottery? And shouldn’t I be the one treating you today?”
She didn’t answer, stepping up to the counter.
“One tonkotsu clear, one chashu with chicken thigh. No scallions on the chashu, please.”
After paying, she tugged him to a corner table.
“I’m not rich,” she said quietly, “but spending money on you makes me happy. Making me happy is your job today, right?”
She blinked at him with misty eyes, an impossible look to refuse.
Then she flushed, lowering her voice.
“And… I’m being a little selfish. I want you to remember the good parts of me. So you’ll never forget my birthday.”
She pouted. “You only ever remembered Big Sis’s. That wasn’t fair.”
Alan’s throat went dry.
He swallowed and nodded.
“After that speech, I won’t forget.”
“Perfect!”
***
After lunch, Honne insisted on taking the open-air gondola so she could snap selfies with Alan suspended above the valley. Afraid her phone might slip and vanish into the trees below, she fired off a rapid burst of photos instead.
She laughed the entire ride down, but the moment her feet hit solid ground, the mountain chill caught up to her. She wrapped her arms around herself, teeth chattering.
Alan frowned, reaching out to press the back of his hand against her forehead. No fever. He exhaled, then his voice hardened.
“Are you going to behave from now on?”
“I-I’m not cold,” she insisted, rubbing her goosebumped arms.
“…Sure.”
Giving up, Alan pulled her toward the car and cranked the heater to full. As warmth seeped back in, Honne quieted, gazing out the passenger-side window.
“So,” he asked, glancing at her profile, “where to next?”
She turned to him, cheeks still pink, smiling sweetly.
“To your place.”
“…What?”
“I live alone,” Alan reminded her. “There’s nothing fun there.”
“Oh, come on.” She pointed at the paper bag on the back seat. “I need somewhere to change.”
Her eyes narrowed playfully.
“And besides, even if it’s boring, I want to see your apartment. I’ll need to get used to the atmosphere if we’re getting married someday.”
Then her smile vanished.
A sudden thought struck her. Her brows pinched into a sharp V, fists tightening.
“You haven’t… started living with someone, have you?”
Alan flicked on his turn signal and merged into traffic.
“What if I have? Couples do that all the time. Saves on rent.”
Honne’s pupils shrank. She bit her lip and turned away.
That shameless woman… moving in already?
Jealousy burned like acid in her chest.
How could Hojo be so clueless, living together and not even knowing?
She spun back toward him.
“Y-you can’t do that!”
“Why not? Plenty of couples—”
“You just met her!” Her voice trembled. “You don’t even know what she’s like! I’m not saying she’s bad, but you should be careful!”
“You said yourself she’s after money! What if she drains your savings and disappears? And if there’s an ‘accident,’ you’ll be stuck forever—!”
“If rent’s the issue, you could’ve told me! I’d borrow from Big Sis! If she refuses, I’ll get a part-time job—”
The more she spoke, the smaller she felt. Her voice cracked.
“How could you move in with someone so easily…?”
At a red light, Alan glanced over. Seeing her on the verge of tears, he decided the teasing had gone far enough.
“But Honne,” he said calmly, “I never said I was living with anyone.”
“…Eh?!”
Her sob froze mid-breath.
“Then what you said earlier—”
“You brought it up yourself,” he replied. “I never claimed anything. And were you really planning to support me?”
Her face flushed crimson. She turned away sharply.
“Jerk. I’m ignoring you.”
***
“I’m coming in~” Honne sang at the doorway, as if announcing herself to an invisible rival, then darted inside.
She sniffed the air.
Plain. Clean. No unfamiliar perfume. Relief washed over her.
Still cautious, she scanned the shoe rack while kicking off her sneakers, then circled the apartment once. Only after confirming he truly lived alone did she finally exhale.
So the vixen hasn’t crossed the threshold yet.
Alan watched her amateur detective routine with amusement.
“Inspection complete? See, no intruders.”
“Hmph. Liar.”
She lifted the paper bag and met his eyes.
“Bathroom. I want a shower. How does yours work?”
“I don’t keep many girly products around,” Alan warned.
“Skipping lotion once won’t kill me. I’m not that fragile.”
“Fair enough.”
He showed her the bathroom. Though the apartment was small, the tub was oversized, chosen specifically for soaking after kendo practice. He explained the taps, the bath salts, the fan.
“Want a bath? I can run the water.”
“No, just a quick rinse.” She turned him around and nudged him out. “Don’t come in. I’m locking the door.”
Alan sighed.
“Do I look like some kind of pervert?”
“Dummy.” She stuck out her tongue, pink and fleeting, then shut the door.
Water hissed.
Alan checked the time. If Honne took her usual forever-plus-five-minutes, the cake delivery should be perfect.
After all, he’d watched her grow up alongside Hojo.
She’d come all the way to Tokyo, of course he’d planned something.
The cake was ordered. Fireworks purchased at painful expense. Even a pyrotechnician booked for dusk. Rooftops and parks had been scouted, the display would be visible wherever they stood.
Three o’clock now. By the time she finished dressing, it’d be close to five. Cake, then fireworks, tight, but still a celebration.
Alan sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone.
Minutes stretched. “Just a quick rinse” turned into over half an hour. Then the hair dryer whirred.
Another thirty minutes passed before the bathroom door creaked open.
Pat, pat. Bare feet on tile.
Alan looked up.
The first thing he noticed were her small, damp toes.
His gaze traveled upward, past the hem of the kimono, revealing slender, snow-white legs. Under the warm lights, her skin looked like porcelain, so delicate the faint blue veins showed through.
The kimono was only draped around her. The obi hung loose, the waist still untied.
“Alan,” she said softly, holding the wide sash, “can you help me tie this?”
One hand pressed lightly to her chest, lashes shimmering.
It’s my birthday wish.
Was it his imagination, or were her cheeks even redder than before, touched by something almost feverish?
A formal kimono wasn’t like a yukata. You couldn’t put it on alone.
She had clearly planned this.
Alan stepped behind her.
“I might be a little rusty.”
“Mm…”
Her usual energy seemed muted, restrained by the kimono. When his fingers brushed hers, he felt how cold they were.
He paused.
“Why are your hands so cold?”
She quickly cupped them against her cheeks.
“They’re fine. Don’t fuss. Help me finish, we’re supposed to go out.”
Meeting her bright gaze, Alan finally threaded the obi around her slender waist. It was clumsy—he’d checked his phone for reference—but the knot held.
Then he twisted her hair into a simple topknot. That part came easily, he’d done it countless times for Akari Hojo.
Honne turned to face him and tilted her head, smiling.
In that instant, all awkwardness vanished. The young woman before him felt entirely new.
Alan caught his breath.
She’s grown into a real lady.
Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang.
“Hold on,” Alan called, hurrying to answer it.
