Aquamarine Hoshino's POV
"I never thought you would help her that far, Aqua-kun."
Mem-cho's voice cut through the steam rising from our bowls, casual and musing, as if she were commenting on the weather rather than the elaborate performance I'd just orchestrated on national television.
We were sitting in a small ramen shop, steam rising from our bowls, the rich scent of pork broth and fresh noodles wrapping around us like a warm blanket.
My treat, obviously.
I'd asked for her help with Akane's situation weeks ago, and now I was settling the debt in the most straightforward currency available: a steaming hot bowl of tonkotsu ramen, extra chashu, just the way she liked it.
This wasn't just any ramen stall. It was run by a student from Totsuki Culinary Academy—the best culinary institution in Japan, arguably the best in the world.
The chef only opened on weekends, too busy with the brutal curriculum to sling noodles during weekdays.
We'd timed it perfectly.
After our final episode aired, after the credits rolled and the internet began its inevitable meltdown, we'd grabbed a taxi and ended up here.
"I thought you'd be like everyone else," I continued, watching her savor another mouthful of broth. "I thought you'd assume me and Akane were genuinely together. Not just... a show."
Mem-cho wasn't in any hurry to answer.
She took her time with the ramen, chewing thoughtfully, swallowing with an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction.
She reached for her water, gulped it down, and only then turned those knowing eyes on me.
She'd seen through me long ago. Probably from the very first episode. There was something about Mem-cho—something beneath the YouTuber persona, beneath the playful charm—that missed nothing.
She chuckled, low and warm. "Of course I understand, Aqua. You're just acting. That's obvious."
She set down her chopsticks, leaning forward slightly. "If you actually wanted someone to kiss—someone real, someone who'd mean it—you could have come to me. Or Yuki Sumi. We wouldn't refuse, and you know it. We're right here. Available. Willing."
Her eyes held mine, unblinking.
"Akane isn't even that famous. Before this show, she was just another newbie actress, barely a name. The sense of conquest—kissing an influencer YouTuber with a massive following, or a famous model with millions of fans—should be way more satisfying than some rookie, right?" She tilted her head, smile widening.
"Right, Aqua-kun?"
"Maybe," I answered, keeping my voice carefully neutral.
Giving nothing away.
Letting the ambiguity hang.
"Then let me help you find the answer."
The words registered in my brain, but before I could process what she meant, before I could formulate a response or a defense or anything, her face was already there.
Close.
Too close.
Her lips brushed mine, soft and warm, and then—
I opened my mouth.
Instinctively.
Some deep part of me that didn't consult with the conscious mind just... parted for her.
Her tongue slid inside.
She kissed me deeply, thoroughly, with the kind of practiced confidence that spoke of experience or natural talent or both.
I tasted the ramen still lingering on her breath, the salt and umami mixing with something sweeter, something distinctly her.
Our saliva mingled in the space between us, warm and intimate, and my brain—the part that was still functioning, anyway—registered that I should probably be objecting to this.
But I wasn't objecting.
I wasn't pulling away.
I was... kissing her back.
When she finally retreated, her smile was soft, satisfied, almost lazy.
But her eyes?
Her eyes were not soft.
"Now you know the answer, Aqua." Her voice was gentle, almost a whisper, but underneath it was something else.
Something heated.
"It's better than Akane, isn't it?"
Better than Akane.
The words hung in the air, loaded with meaning I wasn't ready to unpack.
But it wasn't her words that held my attention.
It was her eyes.
I saw something in her eyes I'd never seen before.
An intensity that burned beneath the surface.
A possessiveness that reminded me, sharply and suddenly, of the Crow Goddess in my mental landscape.
That same unwavering claiming gaze.
That same silent declaration of mine.
It seems you were right.
When I choose someone—truly choose them—the others start to get restless.
Even when they know it's just acting. Even when they know it's just a harmless kiss.
The soulmates can't help themselves.
I looked at Mem-cho, really looked at her, and saw something I hadn't allowed myself to see before.
This was going to get complicated.
Very, very complicated.
However, I welcomed them.
I sidestepped her intent, her probing, her careful extraction of answers, and redirected the conversation toward something more concrete.
More real. More dangerous.
"There will be a scandal," I pointed out flatly. "We're in a public space. Anyone could have seen that. Anyone could have taken a photo."
"Yet you didn't refuse, did you, Aqua-kun?" Mem-cho's chuckle was warm, infuriatingly knowing. "You could have pushed me away. I know you're fast enough. I know you're strong enough. But you didn't. There are no cameras here. No production team demanding a kissing scene for ratings."
"Just us. Just an attractive woman and an attractive man, sitting in a ramen shop, doing something we both wanted."
I sighed, long and slow. "It's not a problem for me. I can handle their hatred, their criticism, their speculation. I've dealt with worse. But I don't think you're ready for what comes next, Mem-cho. The internet doesn't forget. The internet doesn't forgive."
She smiled at me then—bright, genuine, radiant in a way that had nothing to do with performance.
Her beautiful blue eyes locked onto mine, unblinking, utterly certain.
"I'm glad you care, Aqua."
Okay.
That's... that's not what I meant.
"Goddess." I directed the thought inward, toward the loli goddess currently lounging in my mental landscape like she owned the place.
"Is this how yandere logic works? Somehow, I feel like my intelligence is being insulted right now."
"Nah, son." The loli goddess's voice carried unmistakable amusement. "This is just the beginning."
Wonderful. Just wonderful.
"Hmm..." Mem-cho's voice pulled me back to reality. "You're staring at me unblinking. Interest in more, Aqua?"
Her tone was teasing, playful—she'd mistaken my internal conversation with a goddess for simple, captivated staring.
I shook off the momentary distraction and met her gaze directly. "I think we should leave. Right now. The scandal isn't worth it for your profile, Mem-cho. You have a career. A brand. Sponsorships. This kind of thing..."
I trailed off, letting the weight of implication hang.
She nodded slowly, and for one beautiful, fleeting moment, I thought she'd finally come to her senses.
My joy was short-lived.
"I'll confirm it on my social media," she said calmly. "I'll post that I was the one who started it. That I kissed you. That you didn't initiate anything."
I opened my mouth to protest, but she kept going.
"And I'll issue a declaration of challenge to Akane." Her smile widened, sharp and delighted. "Everyone will love it. The internet will explode. They won't see the show as an ending—they'll see it as a new beginning. A sequel. A war."
Her eyes met mine again, unwavering.
"I'm not afraid of their critics either, Aqua. Or their hatred. We're actors. This is what we do. We thrive on controversy. We live on fame."
Beneath the words, beneath the conviction and the confidence, I saw something else.
Something unspoken but unmistakable.
Her face leaned slightly toward mine—just a fraction of an inch, barely perceptible—but the intention was clear.
The expectation hung in the air between us like electricity before a storm.
She was waiting.
Waiting for me to close the distance.
Waiting for permission.
Waiting for more.
I reached out and gripped her shoulders firmly. Not roughly—just firmly enough to communicate that this was deliberate, that I was present, that I understood exactly what I was doing.
"Since you said so," I murmured, my voice low. "Don't regret it."
And then my lips welcomed hers.
The second kiss.
Deeper than the first.
Slower.
More deliberate.
Our tongues met and tangled, sliding against each other in a wet, intimate dance that tasted faintly of pork broth and something sweeter underneath.
Her hands came up to grip my shirt, pulling me closer across the narrow table.
One of my hands slid from her shoulder to the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair, holding her in place.
We merged into each other, right there in the ramen shop, steam curling around us like a blessing or a warning.
When we finally parted, breathless and flushed, she smiled at me with something that looked terrifyingly like victory.
"See?" she whispered. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
I didn't answer.
I just watched her, this woman who had somehow bypassed all my defenses, and wondered what the hell I'd just set in motion.
...
Maybe next will be smut? Maybe blue balls of epic proportions? Well, who knows?
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