[MashUp] Ch 4: A Man’s Style Shows the Taste of His Girlfriend

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Mafuyu Kirisu's lips parted, but no words came out.

Is that… true?

She didn't know.

All she knew was that her carefully walled-off world was being cracked open, one splinter at a time, by this boy's unreasonable persistence.

He was watching her now—watching the way she bit down hard on her lip, holding back tears, trying to keep her mask from shattering.

The playful gleam in Takuma's eyes faded.

The hand that had been tormenting her withdrew.

"Alright. I'll stop messing with you."

He leaned back in his seat, as casual as if nothing had happened, and pointed toward the roadside.

"That Uniqlo there is fine."

His tone was light, even bored.

"I'm not picky. Basics will do."

Mafuyu turned stiffly, following the line of his finger.

A discount chain store. The exact one she had sped past earlier, deliberately pretending not to see.

So he'd seen right through her little act from the start.

Shame scorched her skin.

She jerked the wheel and slammed the car into the nearest parking spot. Horns blared furiously behind them.

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Inside Uniqlo

A clerk spotted them the instant they walked in, her eyes brightening.

A silver-haired boy, absurdly handsome in spite of—or maybe because of—the oversized bathrobe and bare feet shoved into sneakers.

And beside him, a woman in a fitted skirt suit and black red heels, her icy aura practically daring people to keep their distance.

The clerk beelined straight for the boy.

"Welcome! Sir, are you here for the latest collab tees?"

"Or maybe one of our new techwear jackets? With your looks, they'd be perfect on you…"

Mafuyu, standing right there, was ignored completely—like she was invisible.

A spark of irritation flared in her chest. Arms folded, face tight, she stood back to see how Takuma would handle it.

But Takuma didn't even glance at the clerk.

He strode straight to the basics section, his choices sharp and precise:

A black hoodie. Dark gray joggers. A pair of plain cotton briefs.

Done. Less than two minutes.

Basket in hand, he headed for the register.

The rebuffed clerk faltered, then quickly shifted targets—to Mafuyu.

"Miss."

Her smile was flawless, her tone dripping with friendly concern.

"Your boyfriend has a model's build, so of course basics look good on him."

"Buuut… doesn't it feel like something's missing? A little touch of taste, of lifestyle?"

She leaned closer, lowering her voice.

"Our new designer collabs just came in. They're pricier, but the fabric and tailoring would highlight his style even more."

Then, the knife hidden in the kindness: "After all, the way a man dresses is a reflection of his girlfriend's taste—and her care for him. Don't you think?"

The words hit their mark with surgical precision.

"Girlfriend?" That alone made Mafuyu's chest seize.

But "reflection to her taste?"… this cut deeper. A reminder that she had been forced into this caretaker role, always reacting, never in control.

She opened her mouth before she realized it, about to say "let's take a look then"—ready to throw money at the problem just to salvage her pride.

And then the chatter cut off.

Takuma had stepped closer, slotting his body between her and the clerk, blocking the woman's view.

He never looked at the clerk. Not once.

His eyes stayed fixed only on Mafuyu's face, pink with embarrassment.

"Sensei."

His voice was low, direct.

"Do you think it looks bad on me?"

The clerk vanished into background noise.

Warmth flooded Mafuyu's chest, chasing away the sting of a moment ago.

"N-no… that's not it…" she stammered.

"Then it looks good," Takuma said simply, settling it for her.

Then he shot the clerk a sidelong glance and added, loud enough for her to hear: "Well? Don't just stand there."

"Pay up, sensei."

A beat of silence. Then the kicker: "Don't worry. I'll pay you back someday. With interest. In all sorts of poses you love."

The innuendo burned through her like fire. Mafuyu's face went crimson, her ears burning.

She shoved her credit card at the clerk without another word.

Just as the woman reached to swipe it, Mafuyu's gaze caught on the black hoodie in the basket.

"Wait—!"

Takuma and the clerk looked at Mafuyu in surprise.

"Uh..."

Mafuyu's cheeks blazed, eyes locked on the floor as she mumbled in a rush: "A… a down jacket too. The black one. Hanging over there."

The moment the words left her mouth, her strength drained away. She wanted nothing more than to sink through the floor.

The store fell into an odd silence.

The clerk's shock melted into a knowing smile. And Takuma—his ever-present smirk froze for once.

He stared at her for a long beat, unreadable. Then, without a word, he accepted the jacket the clerk handed over and disappeared into the fitting room.

The door clicked shut.

Silence returned. The only sound was Mafuyu's pounding heartbeat.

She stood frozen, the clerk's eyes prickling her back.

Spinning away, Mafuyu pretended to study a rack of men's shirts, her thoughts a tangled mess.

'What was I thinking? Why did I blurt that out?'

'What if he thinks I'm a—'

"Miss," the clerk's voice came again, syrupy sweet.

"You've got great taste."

She was holding out the shopping bag, neatly packed with his old bathrobe and the new clothes.

"Your boyfriend must adore you. Not many girlfriends these days worry so much about their man's comfort."

The words scorched her. Mafuyu grabbed the bag, head ducked so low she could barely breathe. She couldn't even muster a denial.

Then—

The fitting room door clicked open.

Mafuyu's body went rigid.

Footsteps approached, stopping just behind her. Her grip on the bag tightened, heart battering against her ribs.

A voice rumbled above her.

"Sensei. You didn't peek while I was changing, did you?"

She jumped, whipping around, ready to shout a denial, a simple "I didn't—!"

But the words caught in her throat. Because he was standing there.

In the simple black hoodie. The black down jacket she had chosen draped over it.

The new clothes erased every trace of the neglected boy from the park.

What was left was sharp, striking, impossible to ignore. Sunset poured through the shop windows, gilding his silver hair with light.

Mafuyu just stared, caught off guard, unable to move.

Takuma smiled faintly at her dazed expression.

Then, as naturally as if it were always his right, he took the shopping bag from her hands.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go buy groceries."

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