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504 – Multiple Choice Girlfriends?
🕑 Added 2025-09-08 15:10:33 +0000 UTC“Shouko? Wait a second!”
Sayuri quickly stopped him, pulling out her phone and tapping the screen rapidly.
“Here, look! Isn’t this her?”
Matsuya leaned in.
On the screen was the profile of someone from a talent agency.
“Nishimiya Shouko. Voice Actress. Filmography…” And, most importantly, a candid everyday photo.
“That’s her! That’s definitely her. So she’s the #1 Mosaic childhood friend?” Matsuya asked.
“Hmph, of course not. She’s number four!” Sayuri grinned.
“Then why are you smiling so happily if she’s not?” Mr. Amagi asked, puzzled.
“Dummy! Don’t you get it? This poll is multiple choice! Besides voting for the childhood friend at #1, I also picked Shou-chan!” Sayuri said triumphantly.
“Multiple choice!? Why would a ‘girlfriend vote’ be multiple choice!?”
Amagi was dumbfounded.
The way everyone else reacted, as if this were perfectly normal, only made him feel more out of touch.
Even the bar owner, Matsuya, and Iguchi all nodded naturally like it was nothing.
“Hey, hey, this is weird! Why are you all acting like this is normal!?” he shouted.
“Well…” Matsuya blinked. He had to admit—why was that? If it was about guessing someone’s girlfriend, shouldn’t it obviously be single choice?
“Even if you’re married, you can still have a lover or two. What’s so strange about having multiple girlfriends?” Iguchi waved it off casually.
“Exactly! Hojou-sensei is said to be the writer most likely to become a literary giant of our generation.
Naturally, he can’t afford to fall behind when it comes to romance! Haven’t you heard his nickname? ‘The Playboy of the Heisei Era’!” Sayuri rattled off quickly.
“Ah, I see.” Matsuya nodded in agreement.
Watching their reactions, Amagi fell silent.
Maybe it wasn’t that he couldn’t keep up with the times—maybe the world itself had simply gone mad.
Still, it was true—Japanese society was oddly tolerant of affairs.
Even politicians rarely attacked each other over mistresses.
Was it because they were all guilty, or simply because it wasn’t considered effective? Who knew.
Among ordinary citizens it was the same.
TV shows even ran surveys ranking which prefecture had the highest cheating rate or which area’s residents made the “best lovers.”
Just as the debate was heating up, more customers entered the izakaya.
The hostess bustled off to prepare food, and the conversation hushed a little—until someone new joined in, someone who clearly knew Hojou Kyousuke personally.
That lit the room on fire again.
“You guys don’t get it! That brat is a total womanizer!”
The newcomer downed half a mug of beer in one go, slammed the glass on the counter, and exhaled sharply.
Matsuya, Amagi, and the others were intimidated by her commanding aura.
Out of instinct, they each offered her skewers from their plates—as if she were a traveling storyteller being paid in grilled meat, or as if it were hush money for secret intel.
She accepted without hesitation, grabbed a chicken skewer, and devoured it in a single bite.
“But if you ask me, the real deal is number six and number seven! No doubt about it. Trust me!”
With half a beer and a skewer down, she sighed in satisfaction.
Then her eyes lit up at the sight of an ashtray on the bar.
She reached into the pocket of the white coat draped over her chair, pulled out a pack of Six Star cigarettes, lit one, and inhaled deeply.
“Um… excuse me…”
Sayuri hesitated.
She wanted to ask if this woman knew some inside story, but the sheer pressure from the newcomer made her nervous.
That was odd—Sayuri was a career woman, confident in socializing, even a regular here at the izakaya.
How could she be intimidated by another working woman?
She couldn’t figure it out.
In the end, she chalked it up to this: the woman in the white coat didn’t look like an ordinary woman at all.
She looked more like a grizzled middle-aged man—or rather, like a hardened cop from a crime drama, the kind who could dig a bullet out of her leg with a knife without flinching.
Maybe First Division homicide? Or some elite squad in animal control?
“You’re all checking the poll, right? I’m Hiratsuka Shizuka. Yes, that Hiratsuka Shizuka.” She stubbed out her cigarette after only one drag.
“Huh!?”
Everyone immediately pulled out their phones.
On the screen:
————————————————————————
[Hiratsuka Shizuka]: List your names! I’ll go ask Hojou Kyousuke if he actually knows you. I used two accounts to vote for number six and seven! — 8,888 likes
————————————————————————
“W-wow…” Sayuri whispered.
So this was the infamous woman who dared to post under her real name.
“Ahem. No need to look at me like that. I’m just a regular person, same as all of you. Knowing Hojou Kyousuke isn’t anything special.”
Hiratsuka waved dismissively, then downed the rest of her beer in two gulps.
“Um, actually,” Sayuri spoke carefully, “you didn’t need two accounts. The poll is multiple choice.”
“What!? MULTIPLE choice!?”
Hiratsuka’s eyes went wide.
The sharp glare she threw Sayuri made her freeze like prey under a predator’s gaze.
“Y-yes. You can vote for everyone if you want…”
Iguchi chimed in.
For example, besides Utako Kasumi-sensei, he’d also voted for that host, Amemiya Miki, the one whose face had been revealed.
Sure, she wasn’t Kasumi-level, but still a beauty.
“What the hell!? Who makes a girlfriend poll multiple choice!? That’s insane!” Hiratsuka grumbled. “What kind of idiot designed this!?”
“See? I told you it was weird!” Amagi nodded furiously.
“But… Hiratsuka-san, didn’t you also vote for two people?” Matsuya asked cautiously.
“What, are you questioning my judgment!?”
Hiratsuka’s brows shot up. Before he could answer, she snatched another beer and chugged it.
“All that brat’s fault!” she snapped.
If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t be stuck drinking alone at an izakaya.
Yukari and Miki were both busy keeping Hojou’s mother company. As for Haruno…
‘As if I’m scared I’ll get drunk and blurt out what happened in the counseling room this afternoon!’
‘No way. I’m just worried Haruno will get me wasted and post ugly pictures of me, that’s all!’
‘Damn it!’
Gnashing her teeth, she tore through a skewer of beef diaphragm.
“Um… Hiratsuka-san, are you also in the poll’s girlfriend list?” Sayuri asked cautiously.
“What nonsense are you spouting! I don’t even have a boyfriend, let alone that womanizing brat Hojou!” Hiratsuka roared.
“I thought so, hehe~”
Sayuri covered her mouth with a little laugh.
If she had a boyfriend, she wouldn’t be drinking alone here.
She’d be snuggled up in his arms, drinking while being spoiled and comforted—that was the ideal way.
“What’s that supposed to mean! You saying I have a face that screams ‘no boyfriend’!?” Hiratsuka snapped, scowling.
“Of course not! Absolutely not!” Sayuri denied frantically.
“What Sayuri means,” the hostess interjected with a sweet smile as she placed another platter of skewers on the counter, “is that you clearly have very high standards when it comes to choosing a partner.”
“Hmph. Well, of course I do!”
Hiratsuka puffed up proudly at the compliment, but her laughter came out weak and awkward.
She glanced around the izakaya.
Everyone in sight was either an exhausted salaryman, a middle-aged uncle, or a trendy young kid.
Relieved, she relaxed. Perfect—no one here was a potential romantic prospect.
She could drink without worrying about appearances.
The funny thing was, she didn’t even realize that with just one casual sweep, she had ruled out the entire world as unsuitable.
If she actually thought about it… was there anyone on earth she would consider a real option?
Laughter and chatter filled the izakaya.
And so, once again, Hiratsuka-sensei spent her evening alone, her only companions cigarettes and beer.
————————————————————————
Meanwhile, across town, Kyousuke just so happened to be telling Shouko about what had happened that afternoon.
The two had boarded at Shinjuku West Exit, taken the Oedo Line, transferred to the Yurakucho Line, and gotten off at Gokokuji Station.
Once they exited the subway, Shouko slowed her pace.
The route was lined with bookstores and parks, so naturally they lingered here and there.
“Hiratsuka-sensei is a good person,” Shouko concluded after hearing the abridged version of the story.
To be so focused on her students’ future marriages while her own lifelong concern remained unresolved—that was truly noble.
The girl quietly made a mental note to repay Hiratsuka-sensei’s kindness to Kyousuke-kun.
She even resolved to keep an eye out for suitable marriage prospects when she worked.
Hiratsuka-sensei loved manga and anime.
Shouko’s job gave her access to people in the manga and anime industries—surely she could find someone suitable.
At worst, she could introduce a few voice actors.
Hiratsuka-sensei often quoted anime lines anyway; if her partner were a voice actor, they’d probably hit it off right away.
“But you know,” Kyousuke said with a grin, “I don’t think Shizuka actually wants to get married.”
“Huh?”
“Sure, she plays the role of a tragic, marriage-hungry woman, always pining and despairing. Her acting is convincing—it almost had me fooled too.
But to me, it feels more like she’s putting on a performance. A smokescreen, to shut people up so they’ll stop nagging her about marriage.”
Kyousuke’s tone was firm.
His eye for detail was sharp enough to notice which neighborhood dog Peach-Taro liked to play with on walks, or which corner wall the mutt had claimed as his favorite.
Of course Hiratsuka’s quirks hadn’t escaped him either.
He admitted she’d once tricked him too.
Her defeated sighs and desperate complaints when marriage was mentioned had been utterly convincing—so convincing they seemed to come from her bones.
But still—
“Look at it this way. If someone really wanted to get married, would she stay out all night, then instead of catching up on beauty sleep, spend the evening pigging out at an izakaya?”
Kyousuke held up his phone.
On the screen was a message from Kisaki.
Apparently, Hiratsuka Shizuka had been spotted at a bar, drinking and swearing about him.
One of Kisaki’s men, shopping in Shinjuku, had overheard her mentioning “the boss” and immediately reported back.
Shouko stared at the familiar silhouette on the screen in silence.
Adult life really was complicated… though, honestly, also kind of funny.
“Hiratsuka-sensei is a good person,” she repeated.
“Exactly. Which is why we should help her out. If she wants to fake it, then we’ll just pretend to be fooled.” Kyousuke chuckled.
Shouko pursed her lips, then burst out giggling.
Kyousuke-kun was being mean! He said “helping,” but he clearly just wanted to tease Hiratsuka-sensei with the whole marriage thing.
The two laughed as they walked beneath the elevated Shuto Expressway, heading into Mejirodai 3-chome.
Soon, a large three-story building came into view.
In the quiet residential neighborhood, a few people strolled along the streets.
As a local celebrity whose presence boosted the neighborhood’s property values, Hojou Kyousuke had an excellent relationship with his neighbors.
Almost everyone greeted him warmly.
Some housewives even leaned in close to share with Shouko the latest good finds at the local shops.
The chorus of “Good evening!” followed them all the way until they reached the gate of the Ruyi Dormitory.
Kyousuke had just opened the front gate when the house door flew open with a bang.
Well—technically, the door had always been flimsy.
It was never meant to withstand its owner’s bursts of temper.
“Onii!”
A clear voice rang out, and a tiny figure, shorter than the doorknob itself, came dashing out.
“Hey~~”
Kyousuke crouched down just in time to catch his little sister as she barreled into him.
“You’re so slow! Kasuko’s tummy has growled twice already!”
She scrunched her nose, her face practically overflowing with joy.
“Hah aha, really? Then guess what—I might have brought you a present!” Kyousuke teased.
“Of course you did!”
Kasuko nodded without hesitation.
Her big brother would never come home without a gift.
Even though his scent was filled with Shouko-oneechan’s perfume, she was sure he’d brought her something tasty.
Maybe even a cake with Shouko’s scent on it! Orange-flavored, maybe!
Kasuko was still too young.
She had never seen a mountain slope blanketed with blooming white orange blossoms.
As she clung to her brother, she finally noticed Shouko standing beside him.
Peeking out from Kyousuke’s shoulder, she beamed and called out:
“Welcome home, Shouko-oneechan!”
The sight of the adorable little girl made Shouko forget all about stepping inside.
She quickly lifted the shopping bag in her hand, wordlessly showing that the gifts were here.
“Come in quickly, we have guests tonight,” a gentle voice said at the door.
It was Yukino Yukari, entrusted with greeting duties by little Kasuko.
“Guests?” Kyousuke asked, standing up with his sister still in his arms.
“Yes. Mrs. Takemura and Mrs. Oda from next door. Aunt Mikiko ran into them while out for a walk this evening, and she invited them over.”
Yukari’s voice was soft and graceful.
She had always gotten along best with the neighborhood wives.
After all, on their very first meeting, they had blurted out a nickname for her—‘Mrs. Hojou.’
