Two days have passed since we stormed Karen Tojo's samurai mansion to whip her into rom-com heroine shape. Her makeover and bento lessons were a wild ride, but now it's showtime.
"Sakamoto Ryuji! I've got something to say!"
The morning air in Class 2-B crackled with tension. Instead of the usual Karen—redheaded kendo tomboy barging in to pester Ryuji—a jaw-dropping beauty kicked open the door. Wavy red bob, long lashes, doe-like eyes shimmering with contacts, a touch of pink lipstick, and a black hairpin revealing her smooth forehead. In three days, Karen had transformed from scrappy jock to a manga-drawn goddess.
The class froze, then erupted as they clocked her identity. "No way! The sporty girl was secretly a super-hot babe?!" one guy gasped, sparking chaos among the idiot trio.
"Classic plot twist, am I right?"
"You watch that stuff?"
"Ugh, otaku vibes."
"Stop judging me! Don't back away! Don't change seats!"
As the trio imploded, I watched Karen stride confidently to Ryuji's window seat, her makeover courtesy of Rika's "Love Doctor" magic. In her hand? Not a pink love letter, but a white note scrawled with "Challenge" in fancy cursive.
She thrust it at Ryuji's chest. "Take it."
"What's this?" he asked, blinking.
"A challenge," Karen declared, crossing her arms. "This weekend, you're going on a date with me in Shibuya."
Her brash tone hadn't changed a bit, despite the glow-up. The class ignited, whispers buzzing like a beehive. Naturally, Maiya Yaguchi, Ryuji's childhood friend, wasn't having it.
"What's that supposed to mean?!" Maiya sputtered. "A date out of nowhere? That's just rude!"
"Stay out of it, Yaguchi," Karen shot back. "This is between me and Sakamoto."
"I have every right to interfere!" Maiya insisted.
"And who are you to him?" Karen challenged.
Maiya faltered, her voice catching. "His… childhood friend! That's enough to care!"
"If I become his girlfriend, problem solved," Karen smirked.
As the two squared off, ready for a catfight, Ryuji—still awkwardly holding the "challenge"—tried to speak. "Um…"
Karen cut him off, shaking her head. "I don't want your answer now. Give it to me this weekend. If you're a man, don't run."
Her aura was so intense that Ryuji, flustered, mumbled, "O-okay."
With his reluctant agreement, Karen spun on her heel and strutted out, cool as ice. But I caught it—her face, hidden from the class, was tomato-red. She'd steeled herself to pull off that public date demand, barely holding back her embarrassment.
As she passed the back door, I gave her a discreet thumbs-up. She spotted me, her stiff walk softening, and returned a small nod with a faint smile. I know Scramble Love's canon ending—Maiya's the winner—but I can't help rooting for Karen. Go steal the protagonist's heart, you fiery underdog.
Lunchtime rolled around, and Karen, now a regular at our table, blushed as Rika gushed over her morning stunt. "Karen-chan's confession was next-level! Total badass energy!"
"Y-yeah?" Karen stammered, twirling her glossy hair—a far cry from her usual messy mane.
I leaned in, curious. "Your hair's crazy shiny now. What's the deal?"
"Oh, that? Told my dad, and he sent me to some fancy salon celebs use. Cost a fortune, apparently," Karen said, shrugging.
Money solves everything, huh?
Rika, slurping a salt-flavored cup ramen, piped up. "More importantly, got an outfit for the date? You can't wear your uniform."
Karen's eyes darted away, her voice shaky. "Uh… not yet."
"Then let's shop after school!" Rika beamed. "I'll pick out something perfect for you!"
"Rika…" Karen's eyes glistened, like she'd found her soulmate.
Girl shopping? Not my scene. I focused on my bento, but Rika wasn't letting me off. "You're coming too, right, Ryu-chan?"
"Me?" I groaned.
"Duh! You're Karen-chan's love comrade!" she said, stressing "comrade" to block any escape.
I racked my brain for an excuse but came up empty. Refusing would only bite me later—Rika's got that autograph dangling over me. "Fine, I'm in," I sighed.
Another late night awaits.
After school, we hopped the subway to Shibuya, the closest hotspot, to hunt for Karen's date outfit. Shibuya: the pulse of youth and fashion, one of Tokyo's big three subcenters alongside Ikebukuro and Shinjuku. Just a few stops from our Minato Ward school, it's a magnet for trendy 20- and 30-somethings rocking bold, unique styles.
In our plain school uniforms, we stuck out like sore thumbs among the flashy crowd. Rika nudged me. "Ryu-chan, why's everyone staring?"
"That's on you two," I said, gesturing to her and Karen's glow.
"Nah, I'm pretty sure it's you," Karen countered, glancing at me before stuffing her hands in her pockets, taking in Shibuya's dazzling lights.
"Where do we start? I don't come here much," she admitted.
Rika, the mastermind who dragged us here, grinned sheepishly. "Me neither!"
"What?!" Karen yelped. "You suggested this!"
"I just moved from Shizuoka! Without Ryu-chan, I'd get lost on the subway," Rika confessed.
I knew something was off when she roped me into this. I'm not just the muscle—I'm the GPS. Sighing, I took charge. "Let's hit Tokyu Department Store."
"Great idea!" Rika cheered.
When in doubt, go where everything's under one roof. Plus, these rich girls won't blink at department store prices.
I led the way, ignoring the growing stares as we waded through the crowd. You get used to it—focusing on every glance is a one-way ticket to exhaustion. Soon, we reached Shibuya's iconic Scramble Crossing, the beating heart of the district.
Tokyu Department Store, a nine-story behemoth (eight above ground, one below), houses hundreds of shops. If you can't find clothes in Shibuya, this is your failsafe. We took the escalator from the first floor to the third, a women's fashion wonderland.
The floor was a maze of boutiques, with lingerie and swimsuit shops peeking out. As a guy, I felt like I'd wandered into forbidden territory. But since our mission was Karen's date outfit, I had no choice but to tag along.
"Look! That dress is cute! Oh, and that one!" Rika, ex-teen model, darted through the racks like a kid in a candy store. Karen, less comfortable, trailed her but didn't seem to mind.
I followed at a distance, hands in pockets, playing the dutiful bodyguard. They ducked into a high-end boutique, and Rika grabbed a pile of clothes, holding them against Karen before shoving her toward the fitting room. "Go try these!"
Karen, overwhelmed by Rika's intensity, hesitated. "Wait, this cutesy stuff doesn't suit me!"
Rika waved me off—"Hang tight, Ryu-chan"—and barged into the fitting room with Karen.
"R-Rika?!" Karen squeaked.
"Shush! Big sis has got this!" Rika declared.
"Easy, that's a sensitive spot!"
Their banter, straight out of a rom-com's fanservice scene, echoed for five minutes. Rika emerged, looking smug. "Where's Karen?" I asked.
"She's coming," Rika said.
A rustle came from the fitting room, and Karen stepped out, not in her uniform but a frilly, feminine outfit. "Rika, this skirt's too short…" she mumbled, tugging at it, cheeks blazing.
Rika gazed at her like a proud mom. "What do you think, Ryu-chan?"
"Looks good," I said, meaning it.
Clothes make the woman, and Karen was proof. That skirt and frilly top turned her into a heartbreaker.