A Love Stronger Than Whispers

Throwback (2): As the Time Goes Around

Around a year before the start of the story

Teasing Masters

The air crackled with nervous energy as Kazuya Kinoshita, Chizuru Mizuhara, Shinichi Sakurai, and Hana Uzaki huddled around a cluttered table in the college festival planning room, which was Maison Ikkoku's second room, unoccupied since the Nikaidos are moving to Aichi. They, a mismatched team united by the capricious hand of fate, had been tasked with concocting a presentation unlike any other.

Kazuya, ever the Casanova-in-training, coughed dramatically. "So, ladies and gentlemen, what shall be our masterpiece? Something to tickle the funny bone, perhaps? Or maybe..." he leaned in conspiratorially, "a heart-melting ode to romance?"

Shinichi, blushing to the roots of his hair, mumbled about the importance of educational content. Hana, bouncing in her seat with barely contained exuberance, voted for karaoke thunderdome. Chizuru, radiating glacial elegance, suggested a dignified showcase of historical artifacts.

Needless to say, the initial brainstorming resembled a toddler's art project gone rogue. Kazuya and Shinichi, despite their differing levels of vocalization, discovered a shared territory of... shall we say, "appreciating the finer aesthetics of the female form."

"She needs to be like a goddess," Kazuya sighed, picturing his ideal woman. "Long, flowing hair, eyes like sapphires, and a laugh that could make angels weep."

"Short, but stacked. Like a White Castle slider," added the dull-looking guy. That described Hana Uzaki, the shy girl from the swimming club.

Shinichi, his voice barely above a whisper, chimed in, "My muse, she must be the epitome of grace. A delicate dance of poise and intelligence, a smile that could light up a moonless night."

"As sweet as the sweet science. Sugar Ray Robinson, Sugar Ray Leonard, Sugar Shane Mosley, remember the names. Bobbing and weaving like a mix of cane sugar, molasses, honey and jaggery, distilled into various level of sweetness you wanna lick. Top, to bottom. All day long," the poker-faced guy, suddenly being a master of essay poetry, inadvertently describing Chizuru Mizuhara and her idol-like built.

Suddenly, Chizuru and Hana, who had been exchanging whispered anecdotes seeing their boyfriends' twisted taste buds, burst into laughter.

 "Sounds familiar, boys?" Hana teased, eyes twinkling.

"What do you mean?" Kazuya stammered, scratching his head.

"Sounds like a right bunch of barmy blokes, eh Hana?" Chizuru chuckled, leaning against her friend on the park bench, a random thing Kyoko bought as a souvenir for her marriage back then. "Their idea of a goddess makes less sense than a kipper in a teapot."

Hana snorted, remembering the scene vividly. "Oh, it was pure bonkers alright. Kazuya, bless his heart, spouting on about some ethereal dreamboat with hair like spun silk and eyes that glisten like the Queen's jewels."

"And don't get me started on Shinichi," Chizuru shuddered. "His muse, some delicate flower who could discuss quantum physics with a baboon and still make it sound like poetry."

"And then there was poker-faced Pete," Hana grimaced, mimicking his dramatic delivery. "Sugar Ray Robinson, Sugar Ray Leonard, Sugar Shane Mosley, all rolled into one sticky, sweet mess. I half expected him to start describing her measurements in teaspoons and tablespoons!"

They both erupted in laughter, the absurdity of their boyfriends' fantasies washing over them in waves. "Honestly, you'd think they were writing a bloody fairytale, not looking for real women," Hana sighed.

"Right you are," Chizuru agreed. "But between you and me, I wouldn't mind a bit of sugar coating myself. Maybe not the full on diabetic coma kind, but a touch of sweetness wouldn't hurt."