[Third Person Pov]
"Are you going to drag me along with you as you stalk your brother on his date?" Ken questioned with a hint of exasperation as they crouched behind a parked car, its metal still warm from the afternoon sun.
"Shhhh, I'm trying to read their lips," Momo hushed back, narrowing her eyes with the intensity of someone deciphering ancient runes rather than watching two people eat pastries. Her focus was locked onto Clark and Lala, who sat side by side at a small outdoor bakery table, plates already crowded with half-eaten cakes and delicate sweets.
"They're eating. There's nothing to read," Ken said bluntly, not even bothering to lower his voice.
Momo slowly turned her head toward him, her stare flat and judgmental. "Since when did I ask for your opinion on the matter?"
"You didn't," Ken admitted, adjusting his glasses as he shifted his weight uncomfortably, "but you are using my stuff. Which means I deserve at least a little say. Also, might I add, this is highly unethical in more ways than one."
"You're really annoying," Momo said without missing a beat.
"Like you're any better," Ken shot back, crossing his arms and sulking.
Momo rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the street. She watched in silence for a while longer just in time for Clark to push his chair back, standing and offering Lala a hand. She accepted it immediately, smiling up at him as they wandered off together, their conversation animated even from a distance.
Just as Ken opened his mouth to complain again, Momo suddenly lunged, tackling him sideways into the narrow gap between the car and a vending machine. She clamped a hand over his mouth and pressed a finger to her lips, her other hand desperately pointing down the street.
"Be quiet," she whispered urgently. "They're on the move."
Ken peeled her hand off his face with visible offense. "Why are we whispering? We're like miles away. I doubt they can hear us. It's not like he's Superman or something."
Momo facepalmed, shaking her head slowly as, right on cue, Clark's loud, unmistakable laughter echoed down the street, drawing glances from nearby pedestrians.
From there, the date unfolded like a whirlwind tour of indulgence. Clark led Lala from one stop to the next with casual confidence, clearly familiar with the area. They went along and ate Daifuku, soft rice cakes stuffed with sweet fillings, most commonly anko (red bean paste). Then it was fluffy Japanese Style Cheesecake, followed by colorful dango skewers that Lala seemed far more interested in photographing than eating. By the fourth stop, a small specialty shop selling elaborate parfaits, Lala was already glowing with delight, her earlier reserve completely gone as she laughed freely at Clark's commentary.
All the while, Ken and Momo followed at a careful distance, ducking behind street signs, hiding among crowds, and pretending to be deeply invested in storefront windows whenever Clark glanced around.
Eventually, Clark guided Lala past a quieter stretch of the street where small vendors lined the sidewalk. One of them displayed handmade jewelry, delicate pieces laid out on soft cloth. As they passed, Lala's steps slowed almost imperceptibly. Her eyes drifted toward a necklace strung with a pale pink charm shaped like a sakura blossom.
She lingered for just a second too long.
Then, as if catching herself, she looked away and hurried to catch up to Clark, never saying a word.
Clark noticed anyway.
He slowed his pace but didn't stop, continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened. Once Lala was a few steps ahead, chatting excitedly about their next stop, Clark turned back without hesitation. He approached the vendor, exchanged a few quiet words, and paid before Momo could even gasp in realization.
Ken blinked. "Is he going to—"
"Shhh," Momo hissed, eyes wide.
Clark caught up quickly, slipping the small bag into his pocket. A few moments later, he let out a sharp whistle that cut cleanly through the ambient noise of the street.
Lala turned, confused. "Huh?"
He motioned her back over, pulling the necklace free and holding it up so the charm caught the light.
Her reaction was immediate.
Her eyes widened, practically shining as she stared at it, hands rising to her mouth in disbelief. "C-Clark…?"
Before she could say anything else, he gently guided her so her back faced him. With careful, deliberate movements, he brushed her hair aside, fingers barely grazing her shoulder as he fastened the necklace around her neck.
The moment it settled against her skin, Lala turned slowly, looking down at the sakura charm as if it were something unreal.
Then she tackled him.
The hug was sudden, fierce, and full of affection, her arms wrapping around him as she pressed her face against his chest. Clark stiffened instantly, turning his head away with a strained grimace as nearby pedestrians laughed knowingly.
"Easy—hey—people are watching," he muttered, clearly embarrassed.
She didn't let go for a long moment.
When they finally resumed walking, Lala clung to his arm with both hands, leaning into him as she gazed up at his face like he'd just hung the moon. She kept glancing down at the necklace, then back at him, her smile never fading.
Behind them, Ken watched in stunned silence.
After several long seconds of silence, he finally spoke, breaking the lull. "…Yeah. I get it now."
Momo shot him a sideways glance, her brow furrowing with suspicion. "Get what, exactly?"
Ken pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, never once taking his eyes off Clark as he stood in the distance. "Well, you two look absolutely nothing alike, so I was already questioning whether he was really your brother," he said thoughtfully. "But that little display just now pretty much confirmed my theory."
Momo crossed her arms, unimpressed. "And what the hell are you talking about?"
"He's just so smooth and cool," Ken continued, his tone completely serious, as if he were presenting a scientific fact. "Like… unfairly so. The kind of effortless confidence you don't learn—you're born with it. Which makes it painfully obvious now." He finally turned toward her. "You're clearly adopted."
Momo stared at him for a long, flat second.
"I'm going to fucking punch you," she said evenly, her expression deadpan.
As the sun dipped lower and the warm glow of late afternoon faded into dusk, the city slowly changed with it. Streetlights flickered on one by one, the sky darkening as the moon and scattered stars began to peek through the clouds. Momo felt her phone vibrate inside her pocket.
She pulled it out and glanced at the screen, already knowing who it was. A short message from Clark confirmed it—he was heading off with Lala for a bit and told her to head back.
Momo sighed softly through her nose. Of course he knew. He'd probably known the entire time she was tailing them.
Standing up from the bench, she walked over to Ken and shoved his gadgets back into his hands. "Here," she said casually, balancing a half-melted popsicle in her other hand. "You can have your toys back."
Ken accepted them, blinking as he looked up at her. He was holding a popsicle of his own, already dripping down his fingers. "That's it?" he asked. "You're done already?"
"Yeah," Momo replied, licking her popsicle before it could melt any further. "I saw all I needed to see." She glanced at him sideways. "Thanks for the help, glasses."
Ken winced slightly. "Like I've been trying to tell you, my name isn't 'glasses.' It's—"
Before he could finish, Momo pointed the tip of her popsicle directly at his mouth, effectively silencing him. "Listen," she said bluntly. "We randomly met on the street and dragged you into our mess. I honestly couldn't care less what the name of someone I might never see again is."
Ken's shoulders slumped a little, his mood visibly sinking.
Then Momo smirked.
"So," she continued, her tone softening just a touch, "I'll make you a promise. If, by some chance, we do meet again, you can introduce yourself properly and tell me your name. And I'll actually listen."
She raised the popsicle to her mouth and took a decisive bite. "Deal?"
Ken looked at her for a moment before smiling faintly and nodding. "Deal," he said. "But only if you agree to tell me yours too."
"Agreed," Momo replied easily, already turning away as she began her confident, exaggerated Doflamingo-style walk down the sidewalk.
Ken watched her go, a grin slowly spreading across his face. His popsicle continued to melt unnoticed, sticky liquid running over his fingers as he finally glanced down at it.
"That was… fun," he muttered to himself, a small, content smile lingering. "It almost felt like I really made a friend."
With a quiet chuckle, he shook his head and focused back on the mess in his hands, trying—and failing—to save what was left of his ice cream.
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