April 22 (Sat), 9:40 AM
I met Rika at the subway station bright and early, and we headed to Shibuya Station's plaza, home of the famous Hachiko statue—Karen and Ryuji's date rendezvous point.
"Wow! The Hachiko statue! I missed it yesterday!" Rika chirped, her voice bouncing with tourist-level excitement despite our covert mission. Passersby shot glances at her, and I couldn't blame them. Her outfit screamed "undercover" but in the most extra way possible: a chic khaki trench coat, a white floppy hat framing her golden hair, leopard-print sunglasses, and a face mask. Take away the mask, and she'd fit right into a fashion magazine spread. How does she make this cliché look good?
"Is that getup okay, Ryu-chan?" she asked, tilting her head. "I'd spot you a mile away."
"Unlike you, shorty, this is enough for me," I said, tugging my hoodie lower. My bulk makes disguises pointless—might as well lean into the physical intimidation factor.
We arrived early, plopping under a tree's shade to kill time with coffee and a box of donuts. As we chatted, I spotted a familiar figure weaving through the crowd. "Hide!" I hissed.
Rika ducked her head, and I squeezed my massive frame behind the tree. Luckily, Karen didn't notice, striding toward the Hachiko statue.
"Mommy, what's that guy doing?" a kid pointed at me.
"Oh, honey, don't stare! Sorry, sir!" the mom gasped, dragging her kid away as if I were a thug. Nearby pedestrians quickened their pace.
"…" I hadn't done anything, but damn, that stung.
Karen arrived early, and soon Ryuji came sprinting from the subway, checking his phone. 9:55 AM. Not bad—our protagonist's got enough sense not to keep a girl waiting.
"Sorry, Tojo! Were you here long?" he panted.
"Nah, just got here. No worries," Karen replied.
Their first meeting was electric. Ryuji had glimpsed Karen's made-up face during her "challenge," but seeing her in casual clothes—likely Rika's handiwork—knocked him out. Her frilly outfit and wavy red hair screamed heroine glow-up. He caught his breath, stared, and muttered, "You're… beautiful."
Karen's face turned apple-red. "T-thanks," she stammered.
The vibe was pure high school puppy love—awkward, sweet, and dripping with rom-com charm. I almost forgot we were spying.
"So, uh, wanna grab some tea? We should plan the date," Karen said, taking the lead like Rika coached her.
"Sounds good," Ryuji agreed.
They headed to a nearby café, Karen steering the conversation with surprising poise. Rika nudged me. "Let's go, Ryu-chan!"
I tossed our donut box and cups in the trash, and we slipped into the café after them.
April 22 (Sat), 9:55 AM
"That punk made my daughter wait five minutes?!" Naoto Tojo roared, gripping his fist so hard I swear it creaked.
"Calm down, Boss!" his Toseikai lieutenants pleaded, restraining him from charging with a metaphorical sashimi knife.
Naoto, the sixth Toseikai boss, and his eight top goons had been tailing Karen since she left the mansion that morning. They'd hit Shibuya Station's plaza in full disguise mode—Naoto sporting a long wig to hide his buzzcut, the others in various getups. Problem was, nine burly yakuza in trench coats and fake mustaches don't exactly blend in. They might as well have carried "We're Mobsters" signs.
As Karen and Ryuji entered the café for tea, Naoto and his crew folded their newspapers in unison and rose from their benches like a gang prepping for a turf war. Bystanders scattered, and nearby cops started muttering into their radios, eyeing the group.
Osamu Sento, the syndicate's brainy accountant, caught the heat first. "Boss, the cops are onto us."
"What?! Already?" Naoto barked.
"Nine of us clumped together probably stands out," Sento said dryly.
"What's the play?"
"With eight of us besides you, we can split into pairs to tail them," Sento suggested.
"That's my brain!" Naoto grinned. "Alright, pair up and move out!"
The lieutenants scattered, leaving Sento and Naoto's right-hand man, "Corpse Mountain" Takeyama. Naoto fist-bumped him. "Ready, Corpse?"
"Always, Blood Sea," Takeyama growled. The sworn brothers stormed toward the café, hot on Karen's trail.
April 22 (Sat), 10:15 AM
Inside the café, Karen and Ryuji settled at a window table, chatting about their date plans. Karen, usually brash, was adorably shy, while Ryuji kept things chill. We grabbed a corner table, as inconspicuous as a 6'3" gym rat and a blonde fashionista can be.
A nervous waitress approached. "Uh… what can I get you?"
Rika, locked in a staring contest with the menu, shot up her hand. "Special Jumbo Strawberry Parfait!"
"Hold up," I said. "You'll finish that alone? We don't know when they'll leave."
Rika tilted her head. "Ryu-chan, you can't handle a parfait?"
Her confidence left me speechless. "…Tapioca milk tea for me."
"Got it. One Special Jumbo Strawberry Parfait, one tapioca milk tea," the waitress repeated, scurrying off.
I relaxed, stealing glances at Karen and Ryuji's table, when two grizzled men walked in. They scanned the room, flagged the waitress, and ordered. "Gimme your bestseller," one said. "Iced Americano for me," said the other.
What's this? Morning soccer club vibes?
They sat in a corner, but then more tough-looking guys filed in, pairing off to different tables. My gut screamed trouble. The last trio included a guy with blood-red hair.
"Wow, Sunshine City's aquarium has dolphins! We gotta see them today!" Rika said, oblivious, scrolling her phone.
I stared at the red-haired goon, my instincts blaring. These guys were tied to Karen—yakuza, no doubt. Her date was about to get messier than a rom-com love triangle.
This was no ordinary Saturday. Karen and Ryuji's date was a powder keg, with us spying, the Toseikai staking out, and cops circling. Karen's glow-up had Ryuji hooked, but her dad's mob was ready to bury him. Rika's parfait obsession and my hoodie disguise weren't cutting it—we were in over our heads.
I sipped my milk tea, eyeing the yakuza pairs. Naoto's wig was ridiculous, but his vibe screamed "I'll end you." Sento's glasses glinted like a mastermind's, and Takeyama looked one word away from a brawl. Karen's oblivious, laughing with Ryuji over iced lattes, but this café felt like a gang summit.
Rika's plan to hit the aquarium next was cute, but with this crowd tailing, we'd be lucky to avoid a street fight. My role as an extra's slipping—how'd I end up in a yakuza rom-com thriller? All I wanted was Rika's dad's autograph. Now I'm dodging mobsters and praying Karen's date doesn't end in blood.