The Salty Koharu Has a Soft Spot for Me

♠

A high school girl sat on the terrace that overlooked our café's signature flower garden.

Hmm . . . Should this be a wide shot? No, maybe a close-up . . . It needs that food porn effect . . .

She stared at the freshly made pancakes through her phone's screen.

I watched her from a distance.

That's Koharu, isn't it?

She was my classmate, Koharu Sato, also known as Salty Koharu.

She had bob-cut black hair trimmed at the shoulders and gently curled inward, large almond-shaped eyes, and a well-defined nose. Striking the perfect balance between cute and beautiful, she attracted much attention for her well-groomed appearance. And, with a name as adorable as Koharu, countless people have tried to get close to her over the years.

Yet not a single classmate has managed to do it. Why is that?

I mean, we're not exactly close.

Such was Koharu Sato's legendary response to a cute guy from another class who dared to ask her out on a date.

The entire exchange happened within a few seconds after he approached her, during which she did not move a single facial muscle.

That was Koharu in a nutshell.

Koharu was known for her cold, or "salty," demeanor toward everyone, regardless of their age, gender, or looks.

No.

How annoying.

So what?

Can I go home now?

Her responses lacked the slightest hint of warmth. She spoke like she was like firing a shotgun, and all with a completely blank expression.

Still, people were drawn to her. This was undoubtedly because she looked extremely put-together.

But sure enough, she shot down everyone who tried to approach her, earning her the nickname Salty Koharu.

All that aside . . .

Koharu, what are you doing all by yourself?

She peered into her phone, swaying her upper body back and forth, left and right, and repeatedly muttering to herself.

As far as I could tell, she seemed to be trying to photograph her pancakes.

Who gets that serious about taking a pancake photo anyway?

She was so focused that she did not even notice me when I brought her pancakes over just moments ago.

Knowing Koharu, there was a good chance she did not even recognize me as her classmate. Hearing her say that to me directly might just break my heart, though, so I pretended not to recognize her, either.

On that note, my name is Sota Oshio. I'm a naive high school boy. I work part-time at a hidden garden café, Café Tutuji, in Sakuraba City.

From my experience as a seasoned part-timer at this café—though I was the only one—having customers come in solo was rare, even more so for a high school girl.

On top of that . . .

Which angle would capture it best . . . ?

She's even mumbling such amusing words to herself. It's impossible not to pay attention.

However, she is a customer, so it would be best not to eavesdrop.

I was about to retreat to the back of the store when it happened.

Hey miss, what have you been up to all this time?

I heard a nasal voice speak in a tone feigning sweetness. Turning around, I saw a trio of male college students at the adjoining table talking to Koharu.

Initially, Koharu seemed slightly perplexed by the sudden approach, but she quickly regained her usual, beautiful, expressionless composure.

Is that any of your business?

Her voice was so bitingly cold that it could freeze your spine.

Whoa . . .

A sound of admiration echoed through the space.

Koharu's salty demeanor was alive and well, in and outside of school.

But . . .

Haha, you're cute. Let loose a bit!

You were taking pictures for Minsta, right? Pass me your phone. I'll take them for you.

And while we're at it, let's exchange Minsta IDs, too. C'mon, let's link up.

The college students laughed it off, not taking her seriously. Koharu's salty responses were not getting through.

In fact, they tried to snatch her phone away forcefully.

W-wait . . . !

The odds seemed to be against Koharu.

I immediately turned on my heel, marched up to the group of students, and stood firmly before them.

This isn't that kind of establishment.

I pointed to the "Refrain from hitting on other customers" sign at the entrance of the shop.

She doesn't seem comfortable, so could you please stop?

My tone was firm and clear, though it did not live up to Koharu's.

The three college students and Koharu looked up at me, dumbfounded.

I hoped they would give up. Fat chance.

Hahaha. Oh, come on, part-timer, we're just chatting here.

Yeah, yeah, get back to work already. You're on the clock, right?

From their smirking faces, it was clear they had no intention of leaving her alone.

Well, it was time for plan B.

I took a deep breath and turned toward the kitchen.

Daaad! The customers said the pancakes were delicious!

Huh?

My sudden, bizarre move caused one of the students to exclaim in surprise.

Their foolish faces turned pale in an instant.

The next thing they knew, a man who looked like a musclehead straight out of a Western movie came striding out from the back of the shop, his shoulders squared.

It was no longer a matter of reason; the fear they experienced was an instinctive response.

Whaaat?!

Oh crap, oh crap!

We're dead!!

After that, everything happened in an instant.

The smirking college students, who had underestimated the power of a high schooler, scattered like spiders and were gone in no time.

The musclehead who arrived late saw this, screwed up his face tightly like a cartoon character, and roared mightily.

I let them get away again! I really thought today was the day!

By the way, this musclehead's name is Seizaemon Oshio.

He's the manager of Café Tutuji and my father.

Usually hidden away in the kitchen due to his looks, his dream had always been to hear a customer say, "That was delicious!" directly to him or something of the sort.

Seventeen years after setting up shop here, his dream remains unfulfilled.

I hurried over to Koharu, who was frozen in disbelief.

Koharu, are you okay?

I accidentally called her by her name, forgetting that I had pretended not to recognize her.

She looked up at me, surprised.

Sota?

Ah, she remembers my name . . .

Just as a vague sense of joy filled my heart, Koharu hugged me.

Huh?

Hot tears spilled from Koharu’s eyes and soaked the front of my shirt.

I-I-I . . . I was so scared!

Where did Salty Koharu go?

There she was, burying her face in my chest, crying. It was such an unexpected situation that I froze for a moment.

Idiot. No matter the reason, it's never okay to let a girl cry in public.

Sorry, Dad, I need to step away for a bit.

It's okay! It'll be a one-man show with me, myself, and I!

Without asking why, Dad quickly agreed, showing off his impressive front double biceps while he was at it.

Is that his way of telling me he'll handle the shop?

More importantly . . . !

Come this way, Koharu.

Lending my shoulder to the sobbing Koharu, I led her to the living quarters attached to the café—in other words, my room.

It's delicious.

Sitting on a chair, Koharu narrowed her reddened eyes and sighed.

She was holding a steaming teacup in her hands.

Earl Grey is my usual choice of tea.

I sat across from her on the bed and sipped my tea.

The elegant scent of bergamot, mingled with a refreshing citrus aroma, wafted up to my nose.

Its complexities aside, the flavor was so soothing that it naturally made one sigh with relief.

After several sips, Koharu's thoughts seemed to have finally cleared.

Still holding the teacup to her lips, she looked up at me with apologetic eyes.

Do you know who I am, Sota?

. . .

I doubted there was anyone in our grade who did not know about Salty Koharu.

Yeah, I know you. I wasn't sure whether to say anything because you looked so serious staring at your phone, so I decided not to in the end.

In truth, I was just afraid she wouldn't acknowledge my existence. Anyway, telling little white lies was all part of my charm as a naive high school boy.

What were you so engrossed in?

Ugh . . .

It must have been a question she did not want to answer.

Koharu's face turned a deep shade of red. She fumbled nervously, twiddling her thumbs on the rim of her cup.

Seriously, where did Salty Koharu go?

Oh, it's okay if you don’t want to say . . .

S-Sota! Could you take a look at this, please?

It seemed she had made up her mind while fidgeting. Koharu took out her phone.

Her phone cover had zero adornment and looked like something from the dollar store. It was so plain that it was hard to believe it belonged to a high school girl.

It looked even"saltier" than Koharu herself.

Is something wrong with your phone?

Um . . . these photos . . .

She timidly pointed to the screen.

It displayed a series of photos.

Is it okay if I look . . . ?

It felt like some sort of crime to peek into a high school girl's photos.

I felt scared to even ask, but she nodded repeatedly, her face as red as an apple.

Still feeling a bit hesitant, I peered into the display.

What is this . . . ?

The words slipped out of my mouth without thinking.

Of course, I knew what I was looking at. The entire screen was filled with rows and rows of photos of desserts that she had accumulated over time.

So, I came up with the safest comment possible.

Wow, she likes sweets, huh? Nice. That's pretty cute.

But . . .

Koharu, you really suck at taking photos . . .

The blunt remark inadvertently slipped out of my mouth, and Koharu's face turned an even deeper shade of red, all the way to her ears.

But seriously . . . She was unbelievably bad.

It was a strange thing to say to a girl I had barely talked to, but the photos were hopeless.

It was not even a question of whether they were "Minsta-worthy."

Take this picture of a cake, for instance. It was so dark overall that I could not tell it was food, and it did not evoke any appetizing feelings.

And the worst one was . . . this photo that was somehow totally indiscernible.

The entire image, not just the food, was overexposed, making it difficult to tell what was being captured.

Wait, what's this? Did a meteorite fall nearby the moment she took the picture?

Upon closer inspection, it was a photo of our pancakes that Koharu had taken earlier. This had to be a joke.

Such shocking photos filled the photo album from top to bottom.

As I felt completely dumbfounded, Koharu began to speak slowly, her shoulders trembling slightly.

This is embarrassing to admit, but . . . I actually don’t have any friends . . .

What? I thought—

I thought she was not interested in making friends. But I quickly held my tongue.

That was close! That would have been incredibly rude!

I see . . . That’s surprising . . .

I guess I’m not very interesting to talk to . . . People tend to drift away.

. . .

No, no, Sota Oshio. She's serious right now, so it's no time to joke.

Koharu is confiding in you . . . !

But I'm still a girl in high school, and I want to have friends, so . . .

So . . . ?

I thought maybe becoming a Minstagrammer could help me make some . . .

. . .

I tightened my mouth into a straight line.

Don’t laugh. Absolutely do not laugh, Sota Oshio!

I really like desserts, and I often go out alone after school or on weekends to eat them. So I thought sharing that on Minsta might give me something to talk about with others . . .

M-Minsta, huh? Yeah, all the high school girls are on it . . .

Let me add a quick note here.

"Minsta" was the shortened version of "Minstagram," a social networking app primarily for posting photos.

Many celebrities and high school girls all over the country were on the app. Basically, it was for sharing stylish photos and communicating with an unspecified number of people.

And a "Minstagrammer" was someone who used the app.

That’s great! Posting photos on Minsta could change how everyone sees you, Koharu!

That was how I genuinely felt.

There was no doubt about it.

I imagined Salty Koharu spending her weekends at trendy cafés, posting photos of Minsta-worthy desserts.

That would surely change how people saw her, and if she wanted to make friends, it'd give her a leg up—

Just as I thought that Koharu spoke up in the faintest voice.

But I’m a bit bad at taking photos . . .

A bit, huh . . . ?

If I post these photos on Minsta, I’m worried that I'd face the bullying of the century the next day. Like, people hiding my shoes or planting thumbtacks and stuff . . . ? Just the thought alone stops me from even creating an account . . . !

Koharu's face turned pale as she imagined it.

I had thought Koharu Sato was among the top students in our grade, but is she actually a bit clueless?

Anyway, it was clear to me.

I understood Koharu's concerns. Even though everyone called her "Salty Koharu," she was not that kind of girl at all.

And she was trying her best to change her current situation.

Let me borrow this for a second.

Huh? S-Sure, but what are you . . . ?

I took her phone and launched the camera app.

With a practiced hand, I adjusted the focus and brightness, selected a filter, and pressed the shutter. A click sounded, and the photo was saved.

Here you go.

. . . ?

Initially, Koharu was skeptical, but as soon as she saw the screen, her large eyes widened even more.

Wow . . . !

Koharu gazed in astonishment at her phone, which displayed a photo of tea that looked perfect for Minsta.

You're better at this than me!

Well, of course.

How did you—Sota?!

Overwhelmed with excitement, Koharu struggled to find her words and ended up saying my name.

I pulled out my phone to answer her question.

I'm on Minsta, too. Well, technically, it's just Café Tutuji's promotional account.

I showed her my Minsta profile.

It contained a collection of photos I had taken for Café Tutuji for my dad, who was not too savvy with social media.

The photos featured our signature pancakes, seasonal flavored teas, and the blooming flowers in the garden.

We had a total of 356 photos, and as for followers . . .

Five thousand followers?!

As if witnessing something unbelievable, Koharu's eyes darted between the phone screen and my face. Then she muttered softly.

You're a Minstagrammer . . .

It seemed her plan to change her image via Minsta might not have been so misguided.

After all, the way Koharu looked at me had completely transformed into one of outright respect.

In the last hour, I have come to understand two things about Koharu.

First, Koharu was known for her salty demeanor, but not because she was disinterested in others or lacked emotion. Rather, she was overly sensitive to other people.

I've always been super nervous talking to people. I tend not to say much at all . . . Oh, I'm fine with my mom, though!

As it turned out, there was nothing more to it.

The so-called "Salty Koharu" just had an extreme case of shyness.

What the heck.

One more thing.

Her photography skills were disastrous.

What about this one, Sota?

Umm . . .

I stared down at her phone, which was confidently thrust toward me, and groaned softly.

To be clear, it was not that I was unable to judge whether the photos were good or bad.

How could I tell her this picture is terrible without hurting her delicate heart? I tried to choose my words carefully, but . . .

It's awful. I don't even understand how it turned out this way.

In the end, I decided to be honest.

Seriously, it lacks any artistic sense whatsoever. How can a picture of a simple cup of tea look so unappetizing? Is this a unique talent of hers?

Just as my thoughts were starting to plunge into philosophical territory, I realized Koharu had gone quiet.

I snapped back to reality and looked up to see tears welling in her eyes, her shoulders trembling.

Hey, wait . . . Koharu?

You . . . You didn't have to say it like that . . .

Her lips pouted and her large eyes trembled.

Crap.

Ahh! No, but . . . Yeah! It's better than before . . . I think!

Really?!

Koharu's expression brightened instantly.

A lie that does not hurt anyone is a kind lie.

But what's this "Salty Koharu" nonsense about, anyway? She's incredibly emotional!

Maybe with a bit more practice, I could become a famous Minstagrammer?

Ah, all I gave her was a little praise, and she instantly got carried away.

At this rate, those dreadful photos would be unleashed on the Internet. That had to be avoided, for her sake and the world's.

Driven by a sense of mission, I got off the bed and moved behind her while she remained sitting in the chair.

But I think doing it this way would be better.

Oh? Sota?

Launch the camera app.

Oh. Okay, done. Whoa!!

As I reached out from behind her and placed my hand on her phone, Koharu let out a high-pitched scream. My ears perked up.

Whoa, you scared me.

I-I-I'm the one who's scared! Your hand and your face . . . They're so close!

It's easier to teach you if we look at the same screen. Plus, you don't even know how to focus.

Agh . . . !

Koharu's face was so red that it was clearly visible even from behind.

Just to reiterate, Koharu Sato was a beautiful girl.

She was definitely among the top five most beautiful girls in school, and with that figure, she could even be a magazine model.

So when she reacted like that, it made me feel self-conscious too.

The faint scent of shampoo from her silky hair, her beautiful white nape, her heavy breathing . . .

I shook my head lightly to suppress my earthly desires and concentrated on the phone screen.

Just as I was about to start the "How to Take Minsta-worthy Photos" tutorial—

Sota . . .

Koharu called my name in a frail voice.

Perhaps due to nerves, her voice sounded feverish, and it almost made me dizzy for a moment. But I managed to hold it together.

What?

Today . . . Um, that was . . .

She fumbled over her words for a bit. Then, as if she had finally settled on the right ones . . .

Thank you for earlier. You were really cool.

Click!

Koharu's phone emitted a silly sound.

After a moment's delay, we both reacted at the same time.

Just then, the room's door flung open.

Sota! It's crazy—a whole group just arrived! Can you help out a bi—

Upon seeing us, Dad froze as if he were turned to ice.

After an awkward silence, Dad struck a magnificent back lat spread to showcase his V-taper.

Back to my one-man show!

Leaving those words behind, he shut the door forcefully and left in a hurry.

Silence descended again, soon followed by an overwhelming sense of embarrassment.

It was not just her; I, too, was blushing from ear to ear.

Hahaha, a whole group, huh? I'd better go back; otherwise . . .

Yeah. Right, you should! Ahaha . . .

Koharu and I quickly put some distance between us.

We both sensed it. We were at the end of our rope in many ways.

W-well, then! I'll be going home now! Sorry for all the trouble! And, um, please apologize to your dad for me too! Also, um, See you again at school!

With a spring in her step, Koharu stood up from her chair and hurried to the door.

Thanks for having me!

With a loud final greeting, Koharu left my room.

As for me . . .

Ahhhhhhh . . .

I let out a near-soundless scream and collapsed on the spot.

My heart was still pounding furiously.

Back at the café, Dad must have been frantically running around. I felt bad, but I just couldn't handle it.

I leaned against the bed, and with trembling hands, I brought the half-drunk teacup to my lips. The tea had gone completely cold.

Just a moment ago, Koharu was right here.

It was unbelievable, like something out of a dream.

I could not believe that the girl I had been crushing on was just in my room, talking with me alone.

I didn't say anything weird, did I?

Despite a touch of anxiety, I finished the remaining tea.

As I set the empty teacup on the table, I spotted something that had fallen under the chair.

Without any adornments, her phone cover looked like something from a dollar store. It was so plain that it was hard to believe it belonged to that salty—

Koharu left her phone here . . .

♥

I sprinted as fast as I could.

I ran frantically, no longer aware of what was happening around me.

People on the street turned to look. Their expressions were puzzled, but I was beyond caring.

Only one fact occupied my mind.

And that was—

I was just in my first love's bedroom!

My head was hot with all the embarrassing things I did that day and with the regret of having talked too much because of my nerves.

I couldn't even remember what I said.

Did I speak well? Did I say anything strange?!

That was all I could think about.

It was not until dusk fell that I realized my fatal mistake.

I had left my phone behind.

I came to this realization as I screamed into my pillow, thinking about all the mistakes I made that day.

Even though I had already made a year's worth of blunders in just one day, that last one was likely to exhaust next year's quota, too.

Of all places, why did I have to leave my phone at the house of the guy I liked?

But there was no point in regretting anything. There were only two options: go back for my phone or stay and do nothing.

It was a real dilemma for me. The café was already closed for the day, and visiting late might inconvenience Sota.

Plus, if we were to meet again, who knows what I might do from sheer embarrassment!

I went back and forth on it.

I probably agonized enough to last me until the year after next.

After worrying to the point of nearly developing a teething fever . . .

I'll go back for it after taking a bath.

This is the conclusion I arrived at.

My mother looked puzzled when I began applying makeup around 7 p.m., right after my shower, but I got away with it.

So, there I was. I had retraced my steps back to this place once more.

Surrounded by the warm air of a summer night, I, Koharu Sato, gripped my aching heart tightly.

Uh . . .

Just around the corner was Café Tutuji— and Sota Oshio's house.

As I approached, my heart pounded fiercely. My breathing was heavy, and I felt my face flush.

After all, Sota was my first love.

In class, I could never muster the courage to speak to him. Observing him from afar was all I could manage; yet his charm left a lasting impression on me.

His long and lean physique, slightly sleepy eyes, soft hair, and the dimples that appear when he smiles . . .

And I had just discovered that he was not only a stylish café waiter but also a Minstagrammer!

He must be quite popular, unlike me . . .

Thinking about that was a painful reminder of my inadequacies, which made my steps even heavier.

I wondered if I should just turn back now and go home.

But . . .

I’ve come this far already.

I took a deep breath and finally turned the corner.

The scene that unfolded before me took my breath away.

Huh?

Although it should have been closed, the lights were still on inside Café Tutuji.

The flower garden shone with a warm, glittering light from the decorations, which cast an enchanting beauty. It may sound childish, but it felt as though I had entered a scene straight from a storybook.

What's this?

Drawn in, I walked forward step by step through the flower garden.

I caught a glimpse of him in the enchanting center of this magical world, where everything felt electric and dreamy.

There he was, Sota Oshio, sitting at one of the terrace tables, a teacup in hand and his legs crossed.

Sota . . .

Unintentionally, his name slipped from my lips.

He may not have heard me, but, noticing my presence, Sota put down his cup and smiled gently.

Koharu, I’ve been waiting for you.

When I heard his voice, my heart raced so fast it felt like it might actually stop.

I felt my mind go completely blank, and I struggled to find the right words to say to him.

Seeing me at a loss, Sota stood up and slowly walked toward me.

Wait, this can't be happening. This can't be happening!

You came back for your phone, right? Here it is.

Sota handed me my phone.

I finally managed to unfreeze my throat.

Were you . . . waiting for me?

Yeah, I thought you might come back for it, so I kept the lights on, waiting for you. You wouldn’t want to leave your phone at a guy’s house, right?

Oh no, that's—

I shook my head frantically.

It was hopeless. No matter how much I tried to play it cool, every time I was near Sota, my mind would freeze up, and all the words just vanished into thin air.

Sota gave me a gentle smile.

Is your house nearby? It's not completely dark yet, but be careful on your way home.

He turned to leave.

Oh no, Sota's leaving . . .

Um, wait!

The words spilled from my lips as if they had a mind of their own.

A simple "Thanks, see you at school tomorrow" would have been enough.

That would have been the most graceful way to end it.

My brain totally got it, but my heart was screaming something totally different.

Can . . . Can I take a picture?!

As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt the blood drain from my whole body.

What am I saying?!

Ah . . . No, I mean, the garden is just so beautiful! Look! I want to become a Minstagrammer . . . And it would look great in photos!

You want to take pictures of our garden? Of course, that's fine.

Y-yeah! Yay! Sorry for the trouble, ha ha . . .

"Ha ha?" Really?! Ugh, I'm so lame!

I held my phone up sideways.

Okay, here I go!

I posed as if I were about to take the shot.

However, my mind was in complete disarray.

The hand holding the phone trembled uncontrollably. My vision blurred, and I couldn't even see what was on the screen.

I'm hopeless, really . . . I'm completely hopeless.

I really didn't want Sota to see me as even clumsier than he probably already thought I was. But no matter how hard I tried, my body just didn’t seem to cooperate.

I just wanted to disappear right then and there.

Just then, a hand reached out from behind me and rested on top of mine.

The fingers were slender and beautiful, yet undeniably masculine.

In that moment, time seemed to stretch on forever as he leaned in closer and spoke in that soft, sweet voice that always made my heart race.

I'll help you.

My fingers slipped and accidentally tapped a button immediately.

It was the button for switching between the front and rear cameras.

The phone screen displayed both Sota and me, who was supporting my hand from behind—

Click!

Our voices tangled together in the air, and a picture of us was now snuggled safely in my phone.

A hush blanketed the space between us.

Ah, sorry . . . I accidentally took a selfie. Should we take it again?

No, no! It's fine, it's a good picture! Thanks, Sota.

I stepped back, creating a little space between us, like I was bouncing off a wall. The nervous shaking in my hands finally faded away.

I'll see you at school.

With those final words, I gripped my phone tightly and left Café Tutuji.

Just as I rounded the corner, my knees went weak and I crumpled to the ground.

. . . !

I had reached the end of my rope in every possible way.

♠

Once Koharu's figure was out of sight, I sank to my knees on the spot.

. . . !

I had long since reached the end of my rope.

Sotaaa!

Roaring like a beast, the musclehead—or rather, my dad—burst from the bushes.

He rushed over and, with his rugged hands, patted my back and draped a towel over me.

It was then that I realized my back was drenched in sweat. My throat was parched, too.

With trembling hands, I grabbed the teacup and gulped down the tea, which was already cold.

Dad!

What is it, Sota?

Did I say anything weird . . . ? Was I being creepy . . . ?

You did great! You were as cool as ever! Truly dashing!

Phew . . .

As Dad fanned me with a towel, I let out a deep sigh of genuine relief.

I honestly thought my heart would stop beating.