The day started weird.
Which, by now, was... normal.
I'd just finished dodging three different clubs still trying to recruit me thanks to Koharu's meddling—including a flower-arranging group that insisted I had "gentle hands"—when I spotted her.
Not Koharu.
Someone else.
A tall guy. Sharp haircut, blazer worn perfectly, the kind of clean-cut, polished student who always seemed pre-approved by the principal and the Ministry of Education.
And beside him—Koharu Minami.
She wasn't bouncing around like usual. Wasn't teasing, shouting, or trying to balance a broom on her nose like she did during art club (don't ask).
She was... still.
Too still.
I slowed my pace and stayed behind the corner of the stairwell.
"…So this is where you've been hiding," the guy said, arms crossed. His voice was casual, but there was something cold underneath it.
"Didn't know I needed to report in," Koharu replied. Her voice was light, but her hands were clenched behind her back.
"You didn't even say goodbye last time."
"You make it sound like we dated."
He smiled thinly. "No. You never stay long enough for that."
Silence.
I peeked. Koharu's eyes weren't on him. They were on the floor. Like she was shrinking.
That alone set off alarms in my head.
She never shrank. Not even when she ran head-first into the nurse's office door.
"You're still doing it, huh?" the guy continued. "Jumping from club to club. Chasing something you can't name. Pretending like it's all a game."
"It's not pretending," she said. Quiet.
"But you still haven't changed. You still quit halfway."
Another silence.
I didn't like this guy.
He had the same energy as those honor student types who made sure everyone knew they were top of the class—and just loved reminding you that you weren't.
"Anyway," he added with a shrug, "I heard this school's Culture Fest is next month. Knowing you, you'll try to hijack something just to make yourself the center of attention. Again."
Koharu's jaw tightened.
"But you'll give up. Like always. And people will stop caring. Like always."
Okay. That was enough.
I stepped out.
"Wow," I said. "You're just a fountain of charm."
Both of them looked up.
Koharu's eyes widened a little. "Senpai—"
The guy raised an eyebrow. "And who are you?"
"Background character #47," I said flatly. "Also known as the guy who doesn't enjoy seeing his kohai harassed during lunch break."
He frowned. "I wasn't harassing—"
"She doesn't look like she wants to talk to you."
The guy stared at me for a second, probably debating whether I was worth the energy. Then he gave a mock-smile.
"Still collecting strays, I see," he said to Koharu. "Have fun pretending to matter."
Then he turned and walked off, shoes clicking neatly against the tile.
We stood there for a moment. The hall felt colder than usual.
Koharu didn't move.
"…You okay?" I asked.
No reply.
"Want me to pretend he didn't have a face and describe him horribly in case you need to draw revenge fanart later?"
Still nothing.
Finally, she let out a breath. "He's right, you know."
I blinked.
"About what?"
"I don't finish things."
I wanted to argue. Joke. Tease. But she wasn't smiling.
"I jump clubs every year," she continued, walking slowly toward the windows. "I try everything. But I never last more than a few weeks."
She looked out at the schoolyard. Sakura petals drifted again. Always blooming. Always falling.
"I get bored. Or scared. Or feel like I'm not good enough. And I leave."
"…So what?" I said. "Everyone quits something."
"Not everyone makes it their personality."
I scratched my head. "I dunno. I've quit talking to people for most of my school life. I'm basically the Sensei of Running Away."
She didn't laugh. Just leaned against the window frame, the light painting soft shadows over her face.
"Who was that guy?" I asked.
"…No one."
"Didn't feel like no one."
She hesitated.
"My old school. He was president of the Student Council. Always perfect. Always condescending. Always… reminding me I wasn't."
I didn't reply. What could I say?
So I just sat beside her. Quiet.
After a long pause, she spoke again.
"I wanted to do something big this year," she said. "Something people would remember."
"Like?"
"I dunno. A club. A performance. Something for the Culture Fest. Something that proves I can finish something."
"Even if it explodes?"
"Especially if it explodes."
I smiled a little. "That does sound like your style."
She grinned. Just a bit. "So? Will you help me?"
"…Help you do what, exactly?"
"Whatever ridiculous thing I decide to do for the Culture Fest."
"You don't even know what it is yet."
"Exactly."
I sighed, already regretting it. "Fine."
"Yay! I knew you'd say yes."
"I didn't say yes. I said—wait. Did you already sign me up for something?"
She whistled innocently.
"Koharu—what did you do?"
"…Maybe accidentally signed us up for the Joint Class Performance slot."
"You what?! That's the main stage!"
"We're gonna put on a show, Senpai."
"I can't act!"
"You don't need to. You just have to be mysterious and cute. Like always."
"I'm not cute!"
"You are when you're panicking."
I groaned. "Do we even have a script?!"
"Working on it."
"A director?"
"Maybe."
"Any idea at all what this is going to be?!"
She smiled brightly. "Nope!"
I stared at her.
And then—maybe for the first time—I saw her not just as chaos with legs, but as someone chasing something.
Desperately.
Stubbornly.
Stupidly.
But honestly.
"…Alright," I said. "Let's write your story."
She blinked.
"…Really?"
"Yeah. Let's make it explode."
Her smile then—wide, real, and more than a little terrifying—nearly knocked the breath out of me.
"Careful, Senpai," she said. "You're starting to sound like the protagonist."
I scratched my head. "God help me."
---
[To Be Continued]