The next evening, Hiroshi was still nursing his hangover and the shame of Aiko's sharp rejection when Takeshi and Daiki showed up at his apartment with energy that felt both excited and ominous.
"We did some research," Takeshi announced, settling onto Hiroshi's small couch with his phone already open. "About your Spanish problem."
"He's not my problem anymore," Hiroshi said wearily. "Aiko made it clear she's not interested in reconsidering."
"That's what we thought too," Daiki said, "until we found his social media profiles. Dude, you need to see this."
Takeshi turned his phone screen toward Hiroshi, showing a WeTube channel with hundreds of thousands of subscribers. The profile image showed Javier in cycling gear, but the recent videos were a mix of MMA training, hairstyling tutorials, and motivational content about recovery and purpose.
"Javier Varela," Takeshi read from the bio. "International cyclist, amateur MMA fighter, student stylist. This guy isn't just some random Spanish student, Hiroshi. He's like... internet famous."
Hiroshi scrolled through the video thumbnails, seeing Javier's face in various contexts—training montages, competition highlights, collaboration videos with what appeared to be professional athletes and stylists.
"Look at his fight record," Daiki said, swiping to a different tab. "Amateur MMA circuit in Spain. He's won his last six matches. And check this out—his measurements are listed here. Six foot four, 180 pounds, reach advantage..."
"Why are you showing me this?" Hiroshi asked, though he was already beginning to understand the implications.
"Because yesterday you were talking about fighting for Aiko, about not letting some guy just take what was yours," Takeshi said. "But this isn't some soft pretty boy who got lucky. This is a trained fighter with a massive online following and professional connections."
"Plus," Daiki added, "look at how she posts about him. Training videos, technique collaborations, couple photos from industry events. She's not just dating him—she's building a career with him."
Hiroshi felt the last of his alcohol-fueled confidence evaporating as he absorbed what his friends were showing him. The fantasy of confronting Javier, of proving himself through some kind of physical challenge, suddenly seemed not just inappropriate but genuinely dangerous.
"He could literally kill you in a fight," Takeshi said bluntly. "And even if he couldn't, what would be the point? You think Aiko would be impressed by you getting beaten up by her boyfriend?"
"You said I should have fought him at the park—"
"We said that before we knew what we were dealing with," Daiki interrupted. "This guy isn't just some random Spanish tourist. He's a serious athlete with professional training. Fighting him would be like challenging a professional boxer to a street fight."
Hiroshi scrolled through more of Javier's content, seeing the obvious skill and dedication that had built both his athletic career and his rapidly developing hairstyling abilities. The gap between them wasn't just about Aiko's feelings—it was about competence, achievement, and the kind of focused purpose that Hiroshi had never developed in his own life.
"Look at this collaboration video," Takeshi said, finding a clip of Javier and Aiko working together on a complex styling project. "They're not just dating—they're professional partners preparing for international competition. What exactly were you planning to offer that could compete with that?"
"I love her," Hiroshi said weakly.
"Love isn't enough when the other guy has love plus athletic achievement plus professional success plus hundreds of thousands of followers plus the ability to literally beat you unconscious if you annoy him," Daiki said with brutal honesty.
"Plus," Takeshi added, "she's been posting about their relationship for weeks. Happy couple training together, supporting each other's goals, building something together. She's not sitting around missing you, man. She's completely moved on."
As his friends continued scrolling through Javier's extensive online presence, Hiroshi felt the reality of his situation settling over him like cold water. The advice they had given him the previous night—to be more aggressive, to fight for what he wanted, to refuse to accept rejection—suddenly seemed not just wrong but potentially catastrophic.
"So what are you saying?" he asked quietly.
"We're saying forget about her," Takeshi said bluntly. "Delete her number, unfollow her social media, stop torturing yourself by trying to compete with someone who's operating on a completely different level."
"And maybe," Daiki added more gently, "focus on building your own life instead of trying to reclaim someone else's. This Spanish guy didn't win because he was more aggressive—he won because he's more accomplished."
Hiroshi closed the phone and handed it back to Takeshi, feeling the last of his romantic hopes dissolving into something that might eventually become acceptance.
"I need to apologize to her," he said finally. "For the messages you sent, for the inappropriate request I made. This whole thing has been... beneath what I want to be."
"Good," Takeshi said with relief. "Because pursuing someone who's clearly moved on was making you look desperate, not romantic."
"And pursuing someone whose boyfriend could literally hospitalize you was making you look stupid, not brave," Daiki added.
"You did it to yourself, you played with a flame,"
"I thought he was in a coma,"
"You thought it was GG's but you should have really encouraged her to sleep with you before she had the chance to meet up with the Spanish guy,"
As his friends prepared to leave, Hiroshi felt both embarrassed by how far he'd let the situation spiral and grateful that reality had intervened before he'd done something truly damaging.
The next morning, he would text Aiko a sincere apology and a promise to respect her boundaries. He would delete her contact information and focus on building his own life rather than trying to reclaim someone else's.
His friends had been wrong about almost everything, but they had been right about one thing: it was time to let go and move forward.
The woman he loved was building an extraordinary life with someone extraordinary. The kindest thing he could do for all of them was to accept that truth and find his own path to happiness.
The following Thursday, Hiroshi was walking across campus after his Social Work Ethics class when Takeshi and Daiki intercepted him near the library steps, both wearing the kind of determined expressions that usually preceded terrible ideas.
"We need to talk," Takeshi said without preamble. "About your situation."
"There is no situation," Hiroshi replied tiredly. "I apologized to Aiko, I'm keeping my distance, and I'm trying to move on."
"That's the problem," Daiki said, falling into step beside him. "You're just sitting around feeling sorry for yourself while she's probably... you know."
"While she's probably what?"
"Getting closer to the Spanish guy," Takeshi said bluntly. "They're together now, Hiroshi. Really together. Do you want to spend the next few months imagining what that means?"
Hiroshi felt his stomach clench. "I don't want to think about that."
"Then don't," Daiki said. "Come with us to the mixer this weekend. Meet someone new. Find a distraction."
"I'm not ready to date anyone else."
"You don't have to be ready," Takeshi said. "You just have to be willing to try something that doesn't involve sitting alone in your room wondering what your ex is doing with her new boyfriend."
They steered him toward a quieter area of campus where they could talk without being overheard by passing students.
"Look," Daiki said, his voice taking on what he probably thought was a helpful tone, "you need to think strategically here. If you find someone attractive and available, maybe date a girl for a month or so, get some intimacy in your life—it'll help you stop obsessing over Aiko."
"I don't want to use someone else to get over my feelings."
"It's not using anyone if you're honest about what you're looking for," Takeshi argued. "Plenty of people have casual relationships to help them move past serious breakups."
"Besides," Daiki added with a calculating expression, "if you happened to meet someone from Stellar Academy at this mixer, someone Aiko might see around campus... that could serve multiple purposes."
Hiroshi felt alarm bells going off in his head. "What do you mean?"
"I mean maybe seeing you with someone else would remind Aiko what she gave up," Takeshi said. "Make her realize she made her choice too quickly."
"You want me to date someone to make Aiko jealous?"
"We want you to date someone to move on with your life," Daiki said quickly. "If it happens to make her notice what she lost, that's just a bonus."
"That's manipulative and unfair to whoever I'd be dating."
"Not if you're upfront about keeping things casual," Takeshi insisted. "Look, there's a big mixer this Saturday—students from five different universities, including some from Stellar Academy. Perfect opportunity to meet someone new and show Aiko that you're not just sitting around waiting for her to change her mind."
Hiroshi looked between his friends, seeing their genuine concern for his wellbeing mixed with advice that felt fundamentally wrong.
"I don't think this is a good idea."
"What's not a good idea?" Takeshi asked. "Meeting new people? Moving on with your life? Or continuing to mope while she builds a future with someone else?"
"The jealousy angle," Hiroshi said firmly. "If I'm going to date someone, it should be because I'm genuinely interested in them, not because I'm trying to manipulate my ex's feelings."
"Fair enough," Daiki said, though his expression suggested he wasn't entirely convinced. "But what about the rest? Come to the mixer, meet some people, remind yourself that there are other options besides pining for someone who's clearly moved on."
Hiroshi thought about the long, lonely weeks since Aiko had chosen Javier, about the way he'd been avoiding social events and isolating himself while processing his hurt feelings.
"Maybe meeting new people would be healthy," he admitted reluctantly.
"Exactly," Takeshi said with satisfaction. "And who knows? Maybe you'll meet someone who actually appreciates what you have to offer instead of someone who throws you over for the first dramatic Spanish guy who shows up."
As they finalized plans for the mixer, Hiroshi felt conflicted about his friends' motivations but hopeful about the possibility of moving forward in a healthier direction. Meeting new people, engaging socially, focusing on his own future rather than dwelling on what he'd lost—those seemed like positive steps.
He just had to make sure he approached any new connections with honesty and genuine interest, not as weapons in a campaign to win back someone who had clearly chosen a different path.
The mixer might help him remember who he was before his identity became entirely wrapped up in loving Aiko. And maybe, eventually, he would find someone who could love him back with the same intensity Aiko felt for Javier.
But that would only happen if he approached new relationships with integrity rather than strategy, seeking genuine connection rather than revenge or distraction.
His friends meant well, but their advice about jealousy and manipulation would only lead to more pain for everyone involved. Hiroshi would go to the mixer, but he would go as himself—not as someone trying to prove a point or win back an ex who had clearly moved on.
Saturday evening arrived with the kind of restless energy that filled university districts on weekends. The mixer was being held at a popular venue near Shibuya Station—a converted warehouse space with exposed brick walls and industrial lighting that had been softened with string lights and casual furniture arrangements.
Hiroshi arrived with Takeshi and Daiki, all three dressed in the kind of carefully casual clothes that suggested effort without appearing to try too hard. The space was already crowded with students from various Tokyo universities, groups clustering around high tables with drinks and conversation flowing in multiple languages.
"Remember the plan," Takeshi said as they surveyed the room. "Meet people, have fun, remind yourself that there are options besides sitting alone thinking about your ex."
"There's no plan," Hiroshi corrected. "I'm just here to socialize normally."
"Right," Daiki said with a knowing look. "Totally normal socializing. And if you happen to meet someone from Stellar Academy who might mention to Aiko that you're moving on with attractive, available women..."
"Stop," Hiroshi said firmly. "I'm not using anyone to send messages to Aiko."
They found a table near the center of the room and ordered drinks. Within minutes, they were approached by a group of girls from Waseda University who had noticed their corner and decided to expand their own social circle.
"Are you guys from Tokyo Metropolitan?" asked a cheerful girl with stylishly cut hair and an easy smile. "I'm Sakura, journalism major."
"Social work," Hiroshi replied, finding himself relaxing slightly as conversation flowed naturally. "I'm Hiroshi."
"Social work sounds intense," said another girl, Emi, who had introduced herself as an education major. "Are you planning to work with children or adults?"
As Hiroshi found himself drawn into genuine conversation about his studies and career goals, he felt some of the tension he'd been carrying begin to ease. These were normal interactions with interesting people who knew nothing about his romantic history and weren't judging him based on recent failures.
"What about hobbies?" Sakura asked as their group expanded to include more students from different universities. "All work and no play, right?"
"I used to play soccer regularly," Hiroshi said. "Haven't had as much time lately, but I miss it."
"We should organize a pickup game sometime," suggested Kenji, a business major who had joined their conversation. "There's a group of us who play Sunday mornings in Yoyogi Park."
The normal, friendly interaction felt healing after weeks of isolation and toxic advice from friends who meant well but understood little about healthy relationship dynamics.
It was when their group merged with another cluster of students that Hiroshi's evening became complicated.
"Oh, you're from Tokyo Metropolitan!" said a familiar voice. Hiroshi looked up to see one of Yuki's classmates from Stellar Academy—a girl named Rina who he remembered from family gatherings.
"Rina," he said, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "I didn't expect to see anyone from Stellar Academy here."
"Mixed university event," she replied with a friendly smile. "How are you doing? Yuki mentioned you've been focusing on your studies."
Behind Rina, Hiroshi noticed two other Stellar Academy students he recognized—not well enough to know their names, but familiar enough from academy events. The possibility that word about his presence at the mixer might get back to Aiko made him uncomfortable.
"I'm doing well," he said carefully. "Just trying to meet new people and expand my social circle."
"That's great," Rina said genuinely. "Social work can be pretty intense—it's good to have outlets."
As the evening progressed, Hiroshi found himself genuinely enjoying conversations with several people, particularly Emi, who shared his interest in working with vulnerable populations and had thoughtful perspectives on social justice issues.
"You know," Emi said during a quieter moment when they had stepped outside for fresh air, "it's refreshing to meet someone who's passionate about helping people. A lot of university guys only care about their own advancement."
"I think service has to be the point," Hiroshi replied, feeling more like himself than he had in weeks. "If you're not making other people's lives better, what's the purpose of your own success?"
It was a genuine moment of connection—not the forced interaction his friends had encouraged, but natural compatibility with someone who shared his values.
But as they exchanged contact information and made tentative plans to attend a social justice film screening together, Hiroshi caught sight of Takeshi filming them with his phone.
"What are you doing?" he asked sharply.
"Just capturing the moment," Takeshi said with a grin. "You look happy. Thought it might be nice to document your first step in moving forward."
"Delete that," Hiroshi said immediately. "I don't want anything posted to social media."
"Why not? You're moving on, meeting new people—"
"Because using someone I'm getting to know to send messages to my ex is exactly the kind of toxic behavior that got me into trouble in the first place."
Emi looked between them with growing understanding and discomfort. "Are you guys trying to make someone jealous? Because if so, I'm not interested in being part of that."
"No," Hiroshi said quickly, shooting his friends a warning look. "I'm here because I want to meet new people and move forward with my life. Not because I'm trying to manipulate anyone else's feelings."
"Good," Emi said, her smile returning. "Because that would be pretty disappointing behavior for someone in social work."
As the evening wound down, Hiroshi realized that his friends' advice had been wrong about almost everything. Meeting new people wasn't about replacing Aiko or making her jealous—it was about rediscovering who he was as an individual, separate from his identity as someone who had been rejected.
The conversations he'd had with Emi and others had reminded him that he was capable of forming genuine connections based on shared interests and values, not just romantic desperation.
When Takeshi and Daiki suggested they should post photos from the evening to make sure "certain people" saw that Hiroshi was moving on, he refused definitively.
"I'm not using my social life as a weapon against someone who was honest about her feelings," he said firmly. "If Aiko finds out I'm dating someone new, it should be because she heard it naturally, not because I'm trying to hurt her."
"You're being too noble about this," Daiki protested.
"I'm being decent about this," Hiroshi corrected. "Which is what I should have been doing all along."
The mixer had served its purpose—not as a strategy to win back his ex, but as a reminder that life continued beyond romantic disappointment. He had enjoyed genuine conversations, made potential new connections, and remembered what it felt like to interact with people who saw him as more than just someone's rejected ex-boyfriend.
Most importantly, he had rejected his friends' toxic advice and chosen to handle his situation with dignity rather than manipulation.
Aiko was building a beautiful life with someone who shared her passion and supported her dreams. The healthiest thing Hiroshi could do was build his own beautiful life with people who appreciated what he had to offer.
The evening had been a step toward that goal—not because he'd followed his friends' manipulative strategies, but because he'd finally started acting like the person he actually wanted to be.
The screen flickered to life at exactly 7 PM Tokyo time, 11 AM Madrid time—their carefully coordinated window between Aiko's evening classes and Javier's midday training break. His face appeared in crisp resolution, hair still damp from his morning workout, the familiar backdrop of Isabella's advanced studio visible behind him.
"Buenos días, mi amor," he said with that easy smile that made distance feel irrelevant. "How was color theory?"
"Exhausting but good," Aiko replied, angling her laptop so he could see her own practice setup in the academy's evening lab. "Professor Yamada had us working with damaged hair samples all afternoon. I kept thinking about the techniques you showed me last week."
"The protein reconstruction sequence?"
"Exactly. Your approach with the sectioning pattern worked perfectly on today's samples." She held up a mannequin head to show her work. "See how the porosity is evening out?"
Javier leaned closer to his camera, studying her technique through the screen. "Beautiful work. But try angling your comb fifteen degrees more toward the scalp. It'll increase the distribution without stressing the cuticle."
Aiko adjusted her grip, immediately feeling the difference in how the product moved through the hair. "That's perfect. How did you figure that out?"
"Trial and error with Isabella's clients yesterday. Speaking of which..." Javier reached for something off-screen, then held up a spray bottle with an impish grin. "I learned something new today that I definitely can't show you properly through video."
"What kind of something?" Aiko asked, though his expression suggested mischief.
"Watch this." Javier aimed the spray bottle at his camera lens and misted it lightly, creating a prism effect that scattered rainbow colors across the screen. "Water tension techniques for creating atmospheric effects during styling. Isabella says it's advanced competition material."
"That's incredible! But now I can barely see you through the water spots."
"Lucky for you I can't spray you directly through the screen," Javier laughed, wiping his camera clean. "Though if you were here right now..."
"I'd probably deserve it after the shampoo incident yesterday," Aiko admitted with a grin.
Their evening training sessions had become a ritual that anchored both their days and deepened their connection across the distance. What had started as technical skill-sharing had evolved into something more intimate—a space where they could be completely honest about their goals, fears, and the growing understanding of what they were building together.
"Aiko," Javier said, his tone shifting to something more serious, "I've been thinking about communication during the competition. When we're on that stage, there's going to be noise, pressure, judges watching every move."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean we need a way to communicate without words. Like in sports—athletes develop signals so they can coordinate even when they can't speak directly."
Aiko set down her comb, intrigued. "What kind of signals?"
"Simple things. A bit similar to the way we were practicing a while back. Hand positions, head tilts, finger movements that only we understand." Javier demonstrated subtle gestures that looked natural but carried specific meaning. "This could mean 'I need thirty more seconds.' This could signal 'move to color work now.' This could indicate 'client needs emotional support.'"
"That's brilliant. In the competition environment, being able to coordinate silently could give us a huge advantage."
"Exactly. But more than that..." Javier's expression grew more tender. "It would be our own language. Something that belongs just to us, that connects us even when we're surrounded by hundreds of people."
The intimacy of the suggestion touched something deep in Aiko's chest. "Show me what you're thinking."
For the next hour, they developed a comprehensive system of subtle signals—hand positions for timing, head tilts for direction changes, finger movements for emotional cues. Each gesture was natural enough to pass unnoticed by observers but specific enough to convey precise information between them.
"This feels like we're developing telepathy," Aiko said after they'd practiced several sequences. "Like we're creating our own private communication system."
"We are," Javier said simply. "And Aiko, it's not just about competition strategy. It's about building something that's completely ours, something that no one else can interfere with or misunderstand."
As their training session continued, they found themselves discussing more than just techniques. The transparent communication that characterized their practice sessions had begun extending to deeper conversations about their relationship, their goals, and their growing understanding of the world they were inheriting.
"Have you been following the accountability broadcasts?" Javier asked as they reviewed footage of each other's recent work. "The quarterly sweeps are becoming incredibly popular here in Spain."
"Yes! Yesterday's episode about the education budget review had our entire dorm gathered around the common room television," Aiko replied enthusiastically. "It's amazing how engaging it is to watch officials actually being held responsible for their decisions."
"It's such a different world than what our parents grew up in," Javier observed. "My father keeps talking about how, when he was young, corruption just happened and people felt powerless to stop it. Now we can literally watch accountability in real-time."
"Mrs. Sato mentioned that when she was starting her career, talented practitioners would sometimes just disappear if they became too successful or asked too many questions. She says the transparency systems now make that kind of targeting impossible."
Their conversation was interrupted by Javier reaching for his spray bottle again, this time aiming it playfully at the camera. "You know what? You're lucky you're not here right now."
"Why?" Aiko asked, though she was already laughing at his expression.
"Because after listening to you describe technique improvements for an hour, I'd definitely be testing this atmospheric spray pattern on you right now."
"Is that a threat or a promise?" Aiko challenged, reaching for her own spray bottle.
"Both," Javier said, misting his camera again until the image became a kaleidoscope of water droplets and refracted light.
"Two can play that game," Aiko laughed, spraying her own camera until both their screens became abstract art created by water tension and LED backlighting.
For several minutes, they conducted their technical discussion through a haze of water droplets, both laughing as they wiped their cameras clean and refocused on their practice work.
"I miss this," Javier said quietly as their laughter settled into comfortable warmth. "Not just the technique work, but the playfulness. Being able to be completely ourselves without any performance or pressure."
"Two more months," Aiko said, the timeline feeling both impossibly long and terrifyingly short. "Then we'll have all the time in the world to spray each other with water bottles."
"Among other things," Javier replied with a smile that made her cheeks warm even through the screen.
As their session wound down and they prepared to return to their respective evening routines, Aiko felt grateful for more than just the technical knowledge they'd shared. These video calls had become a foundation for trust, communication, and intimacy that was preparing them not just for competition, but for whatever challenges they would face together.
"Same time tomorrow?" Javier asked as he prepared to end the call.
"Always," Aiko confirmed. "And Javier? Thank you for thinking of the signal system. It feels like we're building something that will last far beyond any competition."
"That's exactly what we're building," he replied. "Te amo, Aiko."
"I love you too."
As the screen went dark, Aiko sat for a moment in the quiet lab, feeling connected across continents not just by technology, but by the understanding they were developing together. The distance was challenging, but it was also clarifying—stripping away everything except what was most essential between them.
Months had passed getting closer to the International Master Stylist tournament. In two months, they would compete on the same stage for the first time since reuniting. But every evening session like this was preparation not just for that competition, but for a lifetime of working together, communicating without words, and building something that belonged entirely to them.
The spray bottle sat beside her laptop, a reminder of the playfulness that kept their intensive training grounded in joy. Tomorrow they would continue developing their technique and deepening their connection, one video call at a time.