Shipping Season Starts Early

...🩵 ...

In Kamakura, spring doesn’t whisper its arrival—it marches in with a fanfare of sakura blossoms, buzzing cicadas, and local festivals announcing themselves through handwritten posters and students frantically shouting over decorations.

At Minamisawa High, it started with a dramatic slam of the announcement board.

Student Council President Reina Hanabusa, tall, dignified, and terrifying when armed with a clipboard, stood at the front of the morning assembly, flanked by fluttering cherry blossoms and the school vice president frantically fixing the fallen corner of a banner that read:

🌸 Minamisawa High Spring Festival: A Blooming Love Story! 🌸

“Let it be known,” Reina began, voice echoing through the gymnasium like a war general, “that our annual Spring Festival will commence in exactly three weeks. Each class must submit a project proposal within 48 hours. Creativity and thematic flair will be rewarded. Failure will be... penalized.”

Someone in the crowd gasped. Someone else fainted.

Reina’s glasses glinted ominously.

“Also,” she added, “extra points will be awarded to themes that embody the spirit of romance, youth, and new beginnings.”

Tsubasa turned to Misora, whispering, “Romance, huh?”

Misora narrowed her eyes. “Why do I feel like this is going to be bad for us?”

“You’re just being dramatic.”

Spoiler alert: She was not.

Later that day in Class 2-B, the chaos officially began.

“Alright!” Ayane Fujimoto stood on a chair with the confidence of someone who wielded gossip like a sword. “Class project vote, let’s go! I’ve narrowed it down to the top five based on class suggestions and vibes!”

Nao leaned against the whiteboard, tally sheet in hand. “Vibes are a legitimate rubric now?”

“Always have been,” Ayane said, ticking her pen like a wand.

Misora crossed her arms at her seat. “This better not be one of those days.”

Tsubasa, who was balancing a pencil on his nose, muttered, “Define those…”

Ayane clapped twice. “Here are the top five options for our class booth at the Spring Festival:”

Haunted House

Fortune-Telling Tent

Maid Café

Takoyaki Stand

Love Café: Matchmaking Edition

A hush fell over the classroom.

Misora’s chair creaked as she sat up straighter. “Excuse me?”

Tsubasa’s pencil fell off his face. “Did you say ‘Matchmaking Edition’?”

Ayane nodded brightly. “Think about it! Every table will be a mini ‘love booth’ where students and guests can go on ‘practice dates!’ We can make cute menus, mood lighting, have handwritten love fortunes, a photo corner—and each table will have a different theme of love.”

Misora deadpanned, “That sounds like a walking HR disaster.”

Nao added, “Is it legal to do speed-dating in a school setting?”

Ayane waved them off. “Don’t worry, it’ll be PG! No touching, just vibes!”

“Again with the vibes,” Misora muttered.

Ayane beamed. “And the centerpiece table—the main table—will be hosted by our head couple! It’ll be the main attraction! The heart of the café! The ultimate love aura!”

Tsubasa leaned forward, a rare hint of suspicion in his eyes. “Wait… who’s the head couple?”

The class answered in unison, like a choir possessed by mischief:

“Amakusa-kun and Kisaragi-san.”

Silence.

Then—

“WHAAAAAAT?!” both of them shouted, springing from their chairs like synchronized fireworks.

Misora pointed accusingly. “We never volunteered for this!”

Ayane fluttered her eyes. “You didn’t need to. You’re already the embodiment of romantic chemistry. This is just… channeling it.”

“We’re not even dating!” Misora growled.

“Exactly!” Ayane chirped. “Which makes it even better! The tension! The denial! It’s cinematic!”

Tsubasa raised a hand. “Objection. I can’t act romantic. I’m too awkward to be convincing.”

“You’re awkward all the time,” Nao said helpfully.

“That’s not helping.”

Ayane handed them a paper. “We even wrote your couple description already!”

Tsubasa read aloud. “Table of Blossoming Bonds: Hosted by ‘the childhood friends who don’t realize they’re in love yet.’”

Misora yanked the paper. “Did you just write fanfiction about us?!”

“Short-form bio, technically,” Ayane said.

They tried to protest.

They really did.

Misora gave a five-minute impassioned speech about boundaries, logic, and how love-themed cafés promoted unrealistic relationship expectations.

Tsubasa suggested doing a science experiment booth instead, complete with a baking soda volcano.

No one listened.

The class voted.

Love Café: Matchmaking Edition won by a landslide.

Tsubasa and Misora were appointed “Honorary Head Couple.”

There were cheers. Applause. Even confetti—where had the confetti come from?!

Tsubasa stared blankly at the sparkling air.

Misora dropped her forehead to the desk.

“Shipping season,” she muttered, “has started early.”

The days that followed were filled with forced “couple training.”

Which, in this case, meant:

Practicing mock menu presentations where Tsubasa forgot his lines and tried to ad-lib (“We serve… uhh… ‘emotionally charged coffee with a side of fate’?”)

Posing for marketing posters with props like roses and heart-shaped straws

Being given matching aprons with Mr. Maybe and Miss Maybe stitched on the front

Misora nearly combusted.

“Why are we called Mr. and Miss Maybe?”

Ayane winked. “It’s your brand now. You’re the face of More than Just Maybe.”

Misora grabbed the nearest cushion and screamed into it.

Tsubasa was too busy trying to tie his apron backward.

One afternoon, after a particularly stressful planning session, Misora dragged Tsubasa to the rooftop for a breather.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she muttered, leaning against the railing. “We’re going to be the center of attention for an entire school-wide love event.”

Tsubasa sipped the milk tea she’d brought. “At least there’s food?”

She glared at him. “That’s your takeaway?”

He shrugged. “You said yourself—denying it just makes people louder.”

“That’s not permission to encourage them!”

“We tried to stop it. They outvoted us.”

Misora huffed. “This is Ayane’s fault.”

“She’s passionate.”

“She’s evil.”

Tsubasa chuckled softly. “It’ll be fine. We’ll smile, serve tea, pretend to be a couple for one day, and then forget it ever happened.”

Misora was quiet.

Then she said, “What if they don’t forget?”

Tsubasa looked at her, blinking. “What do you mean?”

She crossed her arms. “What if this whole couple thing sticks even more? What if everyone thinks it’s real after the festival?”

There was a pause.

Tsubasa scratched his cheek. “Would… would that bother you?”

Misora’s eyes flicked toward him. “Wouldn’t it bother you?”

He paused, stared out over the schoolyard.

“…I guess not. Not really.”

The silence hung, longer this time.

Then Misora muttered, “You’re an idiot.”

Tsubasa grinned. “You keep saying that lately.”

“Because it keeps being true.”

But she didn’t push him away when he walked closer to the railing beside her. Didn’t move when their elbows brushed.

Didn’t say anything when the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting gold on the rooftop, softening the world.

Somewhere below, Ayane was already printing flyers.

Nao was designing themed drinks with names like “Tsundere Latte” and “Cinnamon Crush.”

The hashtag #TsubaSora was trending again in the class chat.

And in the middle of it all, two oblivious teenagers stood side by side, staring at the town they’d always known—

Wondering, without saying it, why it suddenly felt like everything was shifting.

Not drastically.

Just a little.

Just enough.

Just maybe.

...🩵 ...

...AerixielDaiminse...

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***