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596 — Yukinoshita, What Are You Doing?
🕑 Added 2025-10-17 16:45:06 +0000 UTCEven after parking her little scooter in a lot near Ginza 2-chome, Miyamizu Mitsuha’s cheeks were still flushed bright red.
“Absolutely not! You cannot tell anyone about this!”
Clutching Kyousuke’s arm tightly, the shrine maiden glared at him as if her life depended on it.
‘What was that supposed to mean—that my expression while being amazed by the food looked like I was missing my grandma? ‘
That’s basically calling me a brainless foodie! Too cruel!
No way could anyone find out about this—especially Yotsuba or Sakura.
If they ever did, she’d be laughed at to death.
“I didn’t say anything, you’re just overthinking it,” Kyousuke replied with a helpless smile.
He’d already laughed himself silly about it on the way here—and caught enough cold wind doing so.
“You still dare talk back!” Mitsuha snapped, yanking him along toward the exit.
The parking fees were pretty steep, but understandable—this was Ginza, after all. In a place where even cotton candy could be sold at the price of a cloud.
It made sense that a parking lot offering such convenience would be worth its weight in gold.
After walking for a few minutes, they emerged onto the bustling Ginza streets.
It was the weekend, but the district was lively all week round.
Unlike places like Shibuya that exploded with crowds on Saturdays, Ginza’s clientele—“adults at play,” as people called them—didn’t have such weekday restrictions.
Their destination was a stationery store in the heart of Ginza’s shopping district.
But calling it merely a “stationery store” would be selling it short—this was Ginza, where even pencils could come with a luxury label.
Itoya.
Founded during the Meiji era, Itoya was a stationery brand with its flagship store right here on Ginza 2-chome—Tiffany’s on the left, Bulgari on the right.
A humble oasis surrounded by luxury brands.
Yet, once inside, you’d realize Itoya wasn’t so different from its glamorous neighbors.
The biggest distinction was that even if you weren’t carrying a limited-edition LV bag, the staff would still treat you warmly.
On this money-scented street, both Hojou Kyousuke and Miyamizu Mitsuha stood out instantly.
Mitsuha, dressed simply in a blue-and-white windbreaker and track pants, had a quiet, unmistakable aura.
The once awkward, country shrine maiden had completely bloomed.
She was no longer the small-town priestess from a rundown shrine, but a bright university student and heiress of a centuries-old priestly lineage.
As for Kyousuke—his presence needed no explanation.
His tailored suit was clearly bespoke, and combined with his natural good looks, quiet confidence, and the kind of bank balance that hit nine digits.
He radiated an effortless air of significance.
Even the sharp-eyed salesgirls in Bulgari started to smile and bow the moment he passed by—only to have their hopes dashed when the couple walked straight past their boutique and into the stationery store next door.
At the door, Hojou Kyousuke glanced up at the simple sign: Itoya, topped with a huge red paperclip—the brand’s logo.
Clean, bold, and unmistakable.
The first floor was lively, the contrast to the solemn quiet of neighboring boutiques striking.
The crowd was younger too—students and office ladies laughing as they left the store with paper bags printed with Itoya’s logo.
Now this was Kyousuke’s kind of place—full of life and energy, welcoming from every corner.
If he ever needed to buy luxury goods for appearances, he’d just make a call.
After all, Japan’s luxury market had perfected VIP service—only nouveau riche types dragged their jewel-draped girlfriends from store to store.
Old money families preferred discreet, invite-only ateliers that wouldn’t even take new clients without a personal referral.
Kyousuke might not come from that kind of pedigree, but connections made up for it.
Flash the Spencer family name and you could borrow half a wardrobe of “sample” designer wear.
Not that he needed to—his situation was far more comfortable.
He had a personal fashion designer at home, and every piece he wore was one of a kind.
Just like at that award ceremony—someone had asked where he’d gotten his suit after seeing him on stage.
Kyousuke had smiled modestly and said, “A friend made it to celebrate my win,” conveniently giving Naoka’s studio a bit of free publicity in the process.
“Kyousuke! Hurry up and grab a basket!”
Lost in thought, Kyousuke looked up to see Mitsuha already bounding inside, eyes sparkling with anticipation.
Itoya’s success in Ginza wasn’t just due to its reputation—it was thanks to brilliant business instincts.
The first floor served both walk-ins and customers picking up preorders.
It sold small, giftable items—postcards, wallets, charms, sweets, and other souvenirs.
There was even a drink counter offering simple refreshments.
Mitsuha eagerly bought two lemonades, insisting they’d need hydration for the “battle” ahead.
At 350 yen a cup, it was practically a steal—nothing else in Ginza was that cheap except vending machine drinks.
Yes, it was technically a bookstore, but they actually encouraged people to stroll around with drinks in hand.
Not because they wanted you to spill something and pay for damages—quite the opposite.
If you did happen to spill, the staff would probably apologize to you for the “inconvenient display layout.”
As Kyousuke scanned the bustling first floor, he instinctively wanted to retreat upstairs.
It was too crowded—languages from all over filled the air, even six different Japanese dialects.
Probably tourists hunting for cute souvenirs.
But before he could step onto the escalator, Mitsuha caught his sleeve and pulled him back.
The shrine maiden had already fallen under the spell of that ancient evil known as “Cuteness.”
“Whoa! What is this!” Mitsuha gasped, holding up a small leather wallet embossed with a smug little black Shiba Inu.
“It’s so cute~~~!” ×3
And she wasn’t alone—two nearby girls, drawn by her excitement, joined in the chorus.
Three voices blended together, gushing endlessly over the adorable wallet.
Mitsuha and the two girls were squealing over wallets decorated with Shiba Inus and poodles when, from somewhere nearby, Kyousuke suddenly heard someone exclaim in Japanese—
“Holy crap, that’s way too cute!”
Turning around, Hojou Kyousuke saw two girls carrying shopping bags crowding over, clutching the same Shiba Inu wallet and exclaiming in awe.
Miyamizu Mitsuha, having seen her fair share of big events, was the first to shake off the spell of “cuteness overload.”
Her eyes cleared, her hands moved like lightning, and before Kyousuke could say anything, she tossed wallets with designs of black Shibas, Pekingese, poodles, and black cats into the basket—each labeled for someone.
“This one with the black Shiba—Sayaka. The Pekingese—for Yotsuba. The poodle—for Kaori. And the black cat—for Yukinoshita…”
Kyousuke blinked in mild surprise.
He remembered Kaori—a college friend of Mitsuha’s, the one who’d once invited her over for dinner in Sendagaya.
But what caught him off guard was that Mitsuha even remembered Yukinoshita.
After that, her “shopping instincts” fully awakened.
Her eyes gleamed with determination as she turned toward another shelf.
“This panda keychain is so cute! I’ll buy it for Yotsuba.”
“This platypus candy box—adorable! I’ll get this for Yotsuba too.”
“This one… yeah, also for Yotsuba.”
“…”
As the basket grew heavier, Kyousuke’s suspicions grew stronger.
At first, he’d thought it sweet that Mitsuha remembered to get something for Yukinoshita—but now, he knew the truth.
This girl had no intention of giving these to anyone.
And how could he be so sure? Simple—because she’d used “Yotsuba” as a cover way too many times.
The real Mitsuha would never be so generous with her little sister.
There was only one explanation: every single gift—Sayaka’s, Yotsuba’s, Kaori’s, even Yukinoshita’s—was a total fabrication.
All of it just an excuse to keep Kyousuke from stopping her from spending too much money.
‘Cunning. Absolutely cunning.’
Kyousuke could only shake his head with a half-smile as he watched her happily continue shopping.
“Jelly? Why is a stationery store selling jelly?” Mitsuha murmured as she browsed. “Oh well, this one’s peach flavor. I like peach. Okay, decided—this jelly’s also for Yotsuba!”
She muttered to herself as she tossed a bag of peach jellies decorated with a fox design into the basket Kyousuke was holding.
He quietly picked up a bag of cocoa-flavored jelly—Yotsuba’s actual favorite.
In the end, it was always him cleaning up after her schemes.
By the time they finished checking out, Kyousuke was carrying two full shopping bags.
Cuteness, as it turned out, came with a price—several Fukuzawa Yukichi bills’ worth, to be exact.
Mitsuha had paid herself, of course.
She was no longer the broke country girl who’d once had to save an entire year’s allowance just to afford a trip to Tokyo.
Her father was now a senior government official, and her grandparents—wealthy landowners in Nara—were practically begging her to find a husband and inherit the Mizuguchi family estate.
Suffice it to say, her wallet was in excellent health.
After leaving their purchases with the store’s parcel counter, Mitsuha reluctantly said goodbye to her “souvenir babies” and dragged Kyousuke upstairs.
The second floor was even more dangerous—a paradise for journal and stationery lovers.
Rows upon rows of decorative washi tapes and stickers stretched as far as the eye could see, each one cuter than the last.
It was honestly impressive—something originally meant to seal things shut could somehow open a girl’s heart and wallet at the same time.
Kyousuke mused that maybe kidnappers could learn a thing or two from this—swap out the duct tape for cute washi tape, wear an Attack on Titan mask instead of a ski one, and maybe they’d get better “customer satisfaction scores.”
He’d already known from their body-swapping days that Mitsuha loved journaling.
His own notes were neat and businesslike, while hers were full of emojis, doodles, and playful online slang.
The washi tapes on display were priced around 400 to 500 yen each before tax.
Mitsuha, without hesitation, scooped up over a dozen rolls in one go.
Acrylic stamps—1,000 yen each—joined the haul as she giggled “kawaii!” and tossed them into the basket with her eyes closed.
And each time she picked something up, she’d turn to Kyousuke with sparkling eyes:
“Kyousuke, isn’t this cute!?”
Watching her so happy, how could he say anything but yes?
“The cutest thing ever,” he said every time, smiling warmly.
Then, being the considerate boyfriend he was, he took her lemonade so her hands would be free for even more shopping.
Yet beneath his smile, a faint pang of guilt tugged at him.
This happiness—how long had she been waiting for it?
He should’ve brought her here the moment she arrived in Tokyo.
With that thought, he set the basket down.
When Mitsuha turned around again, holding up a roll of tape and asking if it looked good, he gently dabbed the sweat off her forehead with a tissue.
Her face, flushed with excitement, was almost radiant.
“What’s wrong?” Miyamizu Mitsuha asked, noticing something different in his expression as she put the tape down.
“Nothing, really,” Hojou Kyousuke replied softly. “Just thinking how you look so happy holding that tape… like you’re begging me to use it to tie you up.”
The shrine maiden rolled her eyes adorably.
“This kind of tape only sticks to paper, you know. On skin, it’d lose its grip in seconds.”
Ah, the genius girl who’d inherited a bit of his scientific logic—still as sharp as ever.
“Hahaha!” Kyousuke burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.
He carefully wiped the rest of her sweat away and then placed the straw of her lemonade back to her lips.
“Sorry,” he murmured gently. “For not bringing you here sooner.”
“What are you talking about?” Mitsuha frowned slightly, sipping her drink.
“Today’s our Itoya Day, isn’t it? You can’t be late to an anniversary,” she said seriously, almost scolding him.
Then she took her straw and poked it toward his lips.
“So, do I need to apologize for being three years late to Tokyo?”
Kyousuke chuckled softly, understanding her perfectly.
Just like how Sakura treasured every little thing they did together as an anniversary, Mitsuha was trying her best to create special memories of their own.
