Akane-san's words about Sakura's burden – the weight of family expectations, her brother's deferred dreams – settled deep within me. It changed how I saw Sakura. The radiant smile, the effortless composure, the relentless drive – I now saw them not just as her natural state, but also as armor, a way of meeting the immense pressure she carried.
It made me want to protect her even more, to be that refuge Akane-san mentioned. But it also fueled my own insecurities. Could average Hiroshi truly be enough for someone who navigated a world of such high stakes?
The pressure from Sakura's world manifested subtly in our relationship. Our study sessions became more frequent, more intense. While they were a chance to be together, they were also dictated by the looming exams and the need to prove that our relationship wasn't a distraction.
One evening, we were studying in the library late. The usual quiet hum was punctuated by the rustle of pages and the soft tapping of pens. Sakura was intensely focused, reviewing complex math formulas. I was working on my own subjects, but my mind kept drifting to the conversation with Akane-san, to the glimpse into Sakura's burden.
I looked at Sakura. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, a slight frown on her lips. She looked beautiful, even stressed. But seeing the effort, the strain behind the usual effortless image, made my heart ache.
I reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
She paused in her work and looked up, surprised. Her intense focus softened as her eyes met mine.
"Hey," she said softly, a small smile touching her lips.
"Just... take a break," I murmured, echoing her earlier words to me. "You've been working non-stop."
She leaned back slightly, stretching her arms. "Almost there," she sighed. "Just trying to make sure I understand this concept perfectly."
"You don't have to be perfect, Sakura," I said, the words coming out without thinking. "Not for me. Not for anyone."
Her smile faded slightly, replaced by a thoughtful expression. She looked at me, her gaze searching. "Hiroshi..."
"I talked to Akane-san the other day," I continued, deciding to be open about it. "She mentioned... about the pressure you're under. About your family. About your brother."
Sakura's eyes widened slightly. Her composure faltered for just a second. She rarely talked about that part of her life.
"She did?" she asked, her voice quiet.
"Yeah," I said. "She said... she said people see the idol, but they don't see the weight you carry. And... she said you need someone who can be a refuge."
I met her gaze directly, pouring my sincerity into my words. "I want to be that, Sakura. I want to be there for you. Not just when things are easy. When the weight gets heavy."
Sakura looked at me for a long moment. Her expression was complex – surprise, vulnerability, and something that looked a lot like gratitude.
"Hiroshi-kun," she whispered, her voice full of emotion. "You... you really mean that?"
"More than anything," I replied. "Seeing you... seeing how hard you work... and knowing what's behind it... it makes me want to support you. Be whatever you need."
A fragile smile bloomed on her face. She reached across the table and took my hand, holding it tightly. "Thank you, Hiroshi. That... that means so much to hear."
She squeezed my hand. "It is heavy sometimes. The expectations. The feeling like I have to... make up for... But... being with you... it actually helps."
"It does?" I asked, feeling a surge of hope.
"Yes," she confirmed, her smile growing more genuine. "When I'm with you... especially when we're just... being... I don't feel like I have to be 'Sakura Yamato, the perfect one.' I can just be... Sakura. And that's... a relief."
Her words were incredibly reassuring. Even with the immense pressure she faced, our real relationship, our quiet moments together, could be a source of genuine relief for her. It meant that despite my average-ness, I could offer her something meaningful in her world.
We continued our study session, but the atmosphere had changed. The pressure was still there, the exams still looming, but the weight felt lighter. We worked side-by-side, our hands linked across the table, sharing not just the academic burden, but the quiet strength of our connection.
Later, walking out of the library, the quiet evening air around us, Sakura leaned her head against my shoulder briefly as we walked. It was a small gesture, private and real.
"Thanks for being here, Hiroshi," she murmured softly. "For seeing me. For... wanting to be my refuge."
"Always, Sakura," I replied, squeezing her hand.
The path ahead, filled with exams, university decisions, and the ongoing challenge of her family's expectations, still seemed daunting. But walking it with Sakura, knowing that I could be a source of support and relief for her, made it feel less terrifying. Our unexpected love story, born from a fake plan, was now facing the real weight of her world, hand in hand, ready to be each other's refuge.