Old Feelings For The New Transfer Student

He hated how his heart would flutter with unease.

He hated getting swept up in emotions—irritated one moment, dejected the next.

He liked his own name—Richi, meaning intelligence. He had tried since childhood to be rational, to stay calm. No matter the situation, he would keep a clear head and heart, think things through carefully, then act accordingly. How peaceful and sensible that approach was.

However, since she entered his life, everything had changed.

His rationality crumbled completely, his heart ached and wavered constantly. He felt like he was losing the ideal version of himself he had spent years building.

Accept it.

So said the beautiful upperclassman with glossy black eyes and long, straight black hair.

That is love.

Richi Kogure was depressed. Every morning when he tried to enter the classroom, his stomach would clench painfully, and he was on the verge of skipping school entirely.

Hearing this, you might think that Richi—with a quiet personality and glasses, and small for a first-year—was being bullied in class, but that wasn't the case.

The cause of his depression was the transfer student who had arrived during the third semester.

Hey, did you see her?! The first-year transfer student—she's incredibly gorgeous!

That beige-brown hair and everything—she looks kind of mixed-race, you know? She's got this aloof, cool, mysterious vibe going on!

Transferring at this time of year—she must've done something at her old school, right? Like maybe people died fighting over the transfer student. Or someone got rejected by the transfer student and jumped off the roof.

Oh! She totally has that kind of vibe. Like she's carrying some dark burden. That's what makes her so cool!

Ugh, boys are so pathetic, fawning all over the transfer student just because she's pretty. I doubt that girl’s got any personality at all. She's probably got a bad attitude.

The beautiful transfer student who was the talk of the school sat in the seat next to Richi. This was the result of the seating change that took place during homeroom at the start of the third semester.

When Richi walked to a seat roughly in the middle of the classroom, holding the paper with his designated number, the transfer student was standing at the adjacent seat. She'd been assigned the number adjacent to his.

The beautiful, mature-looking transfer student with softly wavy light brown hair glared at Richi with an incredibly stern expression.

. . .

Her sharp, light-colored cat's eyes seemed to pierce straight through him, making his chest freeze. While Richi stood there immobilized, not knowing what to do, she suddenly looked away and took her seat, turning her back to him completely.

The transfer student didn't have her textbooks ready yet.

Kogure, let Shibuya share yours.

Somehow they ended up having to push their desks together with Richi's textbook spread open between them.

Lucky you, Richi.

Man, I'm so jealous.

The boys shot him envious looks and teased him during breaks, but Richi's body was rigid with tension and he could barely breathe.

The transfer student's expression was equally stiff, averting her gaze from both Richi and his textbook as if they were something unpleasant. For Richi, this was the worst possible luck, and surely she felt just as annoyed that he had ended up in the seat next to hers.

Because the transfer student—Nairu Shibuya—was Richi's ex-girlfriend, whom he had dated back in middle school.

Despite their terrible breakup that he never wanted to remember again, Nairu had indeed been Richi's secret girlfriend for those few months from winter to summer.

◇◇◇

This morning was no different—when he reached the classroom entrance, his stomach clenched tight and he wanted to go home.

Of course, doing that wouldn't accomplish anything, and if he ran away even once, he probably wouldn't be able to come to school until the next semester.

Stay calm as always, be rational—he chanted this in his head, adjusted his glasses, and stepped forward.

Hey, morning, Richi.

Morning . . .

After exchanging greetings with his classmate, he took his seat while trying not to look to the side, unzipped his bag, and began pulling out textbooks and notebooks.

Not a sound came from beside him. He knew Nairu was there, and that alone made his whole body tense, making even putting textbooks in his desk feel awkward.

This is awkward.

A week had passed since Nairu transferred, but he still wasn't used to it—his stomach and heart kept clenching. Everything felt painfully awkward.

Richi was keeping secret from his classmates that Nairu was his ex-girlfriend. Since Nairu was also pretending not to know him, he figured she didn't want people to know they had dated either.

From the winter of their first year of middle school until the end of summer in their second year, Nairu and Richi had been boyfriend and girlfriend. After that, Nairu's parents divorced and she transferred to Shikoku where her father was relocated for work. For the past two and a half years, they'd had no contact whatsoever.

Well, of course.

I was the one who was dumped, after all.

It had happened during summer break of their second year of middle school. After having trouble reaching her, he had called Nairu's cell phone. When she had answered, she spoke in a stiff voice he'd never heard before:

I won't see you anymore, Richi. Don't call or email me. I'm deleting your contact info from LINE too.

While he sat there stunned by her cold, dismissive tone, the call was abruptly cut off.

She must have found him completely unbearable.

Now they were in the same class, sitting right next to each other. He imagined Nairu must be absolutely miserable about it, too.

They didn't greet each other, of course.

They didn't exchange a single word.

Even though Richi tried not to look to the side, the tense silence bothered him, so he pretended to adjust the bridge of his glasses and stole a glance. The sight of Nairu's light brown hair and rigid profile made his chest tighten.

Cold sweat beaded on his back.

Just as he was about to look away, Nairu glanced toward the window, and their eyes met.

. . .

!

His heart jumped so hard it hurt.

He hurriedly pretended to adjust his glasses and covered his face with his hand, while Nairu's eyebrows shot up and her expression turned stern before she quickly looked away. Her glossy, pale pink lips were twisted as if in anger.

I knew it . . . this is hard for Nairu too . . . She probably never wanted to remember me in the first place . . .

Thinking this self-deprecatingly, he awkwardly glanced to the side again, only to find Nairu glaring at him this time, and their eyes met once more.

!

!

Both of them turned away at the same time.

The tension was so thick that being caught in this situation would definitely take years off Richi's life.

I'm not going to look anymore.

He'd probably end up looking again anyway.

Nairu was probably the same. Worried that the ex-boyfriend she'd dumped so harshly might say something, she couldn't help but keep glancing over.

Richi learned about Nairu's transfer after summer break ended.

If Nairu had wanted to continue their relationship, the distance wouldn't have mattered—they could have stayed in touch through Line and phone calls, saved up their allowances to visit each other's towns.

Without consulting Richi at all, she just unilaterally declared:

I'm not going to see you anymore.

Which meant the transfer had nothing to do with it—Nairu must have grown to dislike him.

The beautiful and mature girl had never been a good match for his quiet, unremarkable self anyway.

Richi himself had been completely puzzled about why Nairu would ever be his girlfriend, and even back then he had kept their relationship completely hidden from everyone around them.

Will you tell your friends that we're dating, Richi?

Nairu had asked him that once. They were in the biology room after school, where they always met. It always smelled of ammonia.

Nairu's hair wasn't as long as it was now—it came to just above her shoulders. Even so, she was taller than Richi and much more mature-looking than the other girls in their class.

She sat straddling a round pipe chair in her pleated uniform skirt, gripping the edges with both hands placed in front of her and leaning toward him. His heart raced at the sight of her white neckline peeking through her shirt, her slender throat, and her hair swaying around her collarbone . . .

What do you want to do, Nairu?

When he asked awkwardly in return, Nairu's light brown eyes lit up with an intense gaze.

I won't tell. Not anyone, ever.

She gripped the edge of the pipe chair tightly, straightened her shoulders, and spoke clearly.

Richi held his breath for a moment, then said:

Then I'll keep it secret too.

Right. Our relationship—let's make it our secret, just between the two of us. If the secret gets out . . .

Nairu's expression was so serious that Richi felt a little scared.

What would happen?

When he asked in a hushed voice, the round pipe chair creaked again, and Nairu warned him, her face pale.

Then it's over. We'll go back to being strangers—we won't be together anymore.

Because he wanted to be Nairu's boyfriend, Richi swore he would never tell anyone—that he would keep their secret.

Until the summer of their second year of middle school, Richi kept that secret.

He never told anyone about anything that happened between him and Nairu, and none of his friends ever suspected their relationship.

Nairu was in a different class from Richi, they had no connection through clubs or committees, and they went home in opposite directions. Besides, Nairu was already a celebrity who was always at the center of rumors, while Richi was just an ordinary guy who quietly read dinosaur books at his desk during breaks. There was absolutely no reason for anyone to think they would date—no one would have suspected such a thing.

Yes, Richi kept the secret.

He locked away in his heart all of it—how they often found themselves alone together in the ammonia-scented biology room lined with shell fossils and dinosaur models. He would talk to Nairu about extinct creatures. They would do homework and study for tests together. They even engaged in more intimate activities.

During PE class, while moving to the gym with the other boys from his class, he caught sight of Nairu in the distance, and when the others around him started talking—

That's Nairu Shibuya. She's gorgeous.

I heard she got scouted by a modeling agency.

Apparently some high school guy asked her out.

I heard she's dating a college student. They say he picks her up in this super cool bright blue sports car.

Even when they talked like that, he stayed silent.

Richi, aren't you interested in Nairu Shibuya?

Well, Richi's more into dinosaurs than girls anyway.

Yeah, he'd probably end up with some glasses-wearing girl who shares his hobbies.

Either way, Nairu Shibuya's completely out of our league. She's on a whole different level. Middle schoolers like us don't stand a chance.

True that.

Even hearing words like these, he kept the secret burning in his chest hidden and listened with his usual quiet expression.

Richi kept the secret.

No one from their old class—or anyone else, for that matter—knew that Richi Kogure and Nairu Shibuya dated in middle school.

Yet Nairu left Richi behind.

Richi and Nairu went back to being strangers instead of boyfriend and girlfriend.

He thought he'd never see her again for the rest of his life. If he ever caught a glimpse of an adult Nairu, he figured it would be in some glamorous setting—on a poster at the station or a TV screen.

Who would have thought they'd become classmates in high school, sitting right next to each other?

When he glanced to the side, their eyes met again.

They hurriedly looked away from each other.

Maybe I should just try talking to her. Casually, like we're just acquaintances.

Every time Richi tried to do so, he'd catch sight of her cold profile, and his resolve would crumble.

It was as if he was being told not to speak to her.

When they were dating, being ignored by Nairu in the hallway would actually make him more aware of their shared secret, filling his chest with bittersweet feelings.

No one else knows, but Nairu is my girlfriend.

Now that Richi and Nairu had broken up and become strangers, they were still stuck sharing that secret—the worst possible situation.

Every time Nairu ignored him, it felt like a knife twisting in his chest.

I just have to make it through until sophomore year . . . Then they'll reshuffle the classes. I can get away from Nairu. Just two more months . . .

◇◇◇

A few days later during lunch break, he heard that the beautiful transfer student already had a boyfriend.

They say it's Yohei Aiba.

Yohei?!

Richi had been listening intently while flipping through a dinosaur magazine at his desk, and the news shocked him.

Despite being only a first-year, Yohei was the volleyball team's sole regular starter and had made a big splash helping other sports teams in matches against rival schools. With his fresh good looks and cheerful personality, he was extremely popular with girls and quite the celebrity.

Girls from other schools would flock to cheer at Yohei's games. Since they were all reportedly quite attractive, every sports team wanted to recruit Yohei's help.

Yohei had been constantly getting confessions from girls since the start of school, but he was famous for never dating anyone. So when he announced in the middle of the second semester that he was dating a first-year girl, it caused a huge uproar.

Since his girlfriend was the quiet, unremarkable type, people had various reactions.

He must be really serious about her.

It's like when a celebrity marries a non-celebrity—so romantic!

Yohei's fans reacted with a mix of resignation and celebration.

Ten days after he'd made his relationship announcement in front of the volleyball team members while holding hands with his shy, blushing girlfriend, something unexpected happened.

Sorry everyone, I broke up with my girlfriend.

He announced their breakup with a cheerful expression, becoming the talk of the school once again.

It's like, once we started dating, we just weren't compatible. You know how I'm impatient and she's more laid-back? I felt bad making her try to keep up with me all the time. So we decided to break up.

Both the volleyball team members and other club members who had been eavesdropping in the gym were stunned.

What amazed the entire school even more was what happened next: just a few days later, Yohei introduced a completely different girl as his girlfriend to the volleyball team.

This girlfriend was the complete opposite of his first one—a girl who was flashy in both appearance and personality.

Yohei broke up with her too in less than two weeks.

The next girlfriend lasted one week, the one after that lasted two weeks and held on a bit longer, but the next one lasted only three days, and the one after that ten days.

After going without a girlfriend for so long, it was as if he'd lifted his dating ban—whenever he didn't have someone lined up, he'd casually start dating whoever confessed to him. Each time he'd introduce them to the volleyball team. Finally, even the upperclassmen lost their temper.

Enough already! Don't introduce us to a girlfriend unless you've been dating for at least three months!

That's what they told him.

Yohei responded cheerfully:

Okay! I'll aim for three months then!

However, he continued adding to his list of ex-girlfriends after that.

His longest relationship so far was eighteen days.

According to rumors Richi had overheard, Yohei Aiba was supposedly dating a beautiful third-year student, but had they broken up again?

Now he was dating Nairu?

Seriously?! Every guy who's tried talking to the transfer student got completely ignored and shot down. I thought she hated men!

Among the lamenting boys in the class, voices rose in disagreement.

That rumor's gotta be fake, right? Yeah, I don't believe it.

Some argued:

No way, it's true. Look . . . she's not eating lunch with any of the girls' groups, right?

Richi pretended to adjust the bridge of his glasses and quickly surveyed the lunchtime classroom. Indeed, Nairu was nowhere to be seen.

The girls had formed their usual groups and were spreading out their lunch boxes and bread. Until yesterday, Nairu had been eating with the most popular girls in the class. They'd been eager to bring the beautiful transfer student into their circle. They fussed over her constantly—during class changes, in cooking class, whenever they could—but Nairu always seemed like she just wanted to be left alone.

Richi could tell. Even back in middle school, Nairu wasn't the type who enjoyed being surrounded by admirers or spending time with chattering groups.

Nairu was naturally aloof.

The girls who thought they were being so kind to the transfer student had apparently decided to freeze her out because she'd stayed distant the whole time, then started dating the most popular guy in school without even mentioning it to them.

They wouldn't have to watch Nairu looking bored while eating with them anymore.

Right now, she was probably off somewhere eating alone in peace.

I'm good at finding places to be alone. I like quiet places.

She'd said that to Richi with those clear, transparent eyes when they were dating.

She was pressing her pale cheek against the black heat-resistant table in the biology room, looking up at him sideways from there.

Nairu had three buttons of her uniform shirt undone, and her white skin kept showing through the gap, and fine rain was falling outside . . . The ammonia-scented room was completely silent . . .

I don't like noise.

People's voices are . . . grating and annoying.

It's so . . . quiet here. Like time has stopped.

She's really dating Yohei Aiba.

His classmates' voices gradually took on the tone of a funeral.

Well, there's no way a beauty like that would date any of us, so I guess Yohei and her make sense—handsome guy, beautiful girl, right?

Wonder how long it'll last this time. He's never dated such a cold type before, so maybe it'll surprisingly go longer.

Wait, Yohei didn't ask her out, right . . . ? Based on his track record . . . So the transfer student confessed to Yohei?! No waaaay!

It really is all about looks! It's all about looks!

Richi listened to their endless conversation with a twisted knot in his chest. He felt unsettled, his eyes fixed on the page showing a spinosaurus with its thin, sail-like spine jutting from its back.

So spinosaurus mainly ate fish, not animal meat . . .

He was thinking about something that, to a dinosaur enthusiast like Richi, was as basic a fact as pandas eating bamboo.

◇◇◇

Nairu returned to the classroom just before lunch break ended.

The sound of a chair being pulled out next to him—Richi became all ears, straining to listen while trying not to look in that direction as Nairu sat down.

So you're dating Yohei?

He wanted to ask Nairu.

Everyone was saying the transfer student turned out to be shallow after all.

He felt like he might blurt out something so spiteful.

Is it true that you confessed to Yohei, Nairu?

Nasty, ugly words that disgusted even himself were swirling around in his chest like a black vortex.

What am I thinking?

If he said such things, he'd only make himself suffer and come across as pathetic. Nairu would definitely despise him and look at him coldly.

The teacher came and class began, so Richi tried to focus on the lesson.

He could feel Nairu watching him, making his body stiffen. It was probably because he was thinking such things.

Focus. Focus.

When he pushed up his glasses with his finger, something rolled to his feet.

Nairu had dropped her eraser.

The eraser rolled from Nairu's desk past Richi's feet, where he sat next to her, coming to rest beside his other foot.

Now trapped between both his feet, Nairu couldn't reach it from her position.

What should I do?

He tried to pretend he didn't notice, but she'd be in trouble without her eraser. Besides, his eyes were definitely looking down, and he could feel her gaze on him—that warm sensation on his cheek told him she was watching him again.

It was probably just his imagination.

It had to be.

Right, stay calm and rational . . .

I'm not looking at anything.

But . . .

In the end, unable to bear the prickling heat on his cheek and the stomach-churning conflict, Richi bent down and picked up the eraser Nairu had dropped.

It was round and pink with a little green leaf attached. A sakura mochi.

The cute design, so unlike the mature Nairu, softened his heart, and memories of when they were dating came flooding back.

Cool and aloof—the Nairu that male students admired used mechanical pencils with cute mascot character illustrations and a cell phone with adorable local character straps dangling from it.

At first, Richi had been so surprised by such uncharacteristic items that he stared at them intently. When he did that, Nairu would get extremely embarrassed, her face turning bright red as she pouted:

You think they don't suit me, don't you?! Th-these are just things that happened to be at home, so I'm using them!

She'd make excuses like that . . .

He thought she was incredibly cute when she acted like that.

Ah, she really is just an ordinary girl, he'd think.

Even when they went on a date to the dinosaur exhibition, Nairu saw a triceratops mug with the mascot character's gentle face in the souvenir corner, and her eyes lit up as she said:

This is so cute! It's cute, right?! Hey, Richi, it's super cute, don't you think?!

She kept repeating this, and when Richi was surprised by her enthusiasm, she immediately turned red, looked away, and said:

Actually, now that I look at it more closely, maybe it's not that great.

Then she quickly walked away, and when Richi asked:

Aren't you going to buy it?

She answered bluntly:

I don't want it—it's too childish.

So while Nairu was in the bathroom, Richi secretly bought one of those triceratops mugs for himself and one for Nairu. After school, he placed them on the heat-resistant table in the biology room.

When Nairu saw the mug:

Ah!

Her eyes lit up again, then she pursed her lips in a pout and looked at Richi with a sulking expression.

I said I didn't want it.

Yeah, but I wanted them. Remember how we talked about bringing that old electric kettle from my house so we could boil water and drink coffee and stuff? I brought the kettle too. Oh, if you don't like it, I have paper cups too.

When Richi said this deliberately, she quickly grabbed her mug and hugged it to her chest.

N-no, I want this one! Because you went to the trouble of getting it for me. It's not really my taste, but still, I want this one. I don't want anything else!

After her declaration, Richi poured hot water from the electric kettle into the mug. She pressed her cheek against the heat-resistant table and gazed sideways at the gentle-faced triceratops printed on the mug, smiling contentedly.

Nairu always added sugar and milk to her coffee. She'd make little swirls with the spoon before adding the milk. Every time Richi caught her doing such things, she'd blush with an annoyed expression and sulk. Every time Nairu showed him such uncharacteristic sides of herself, Richi's heart would race and fill with sweet warmth.

That sweetness and warmth flooded through Richi's chest as he picked up the eraser, and he looked up to hand it back to Nairu—but his fingers froze.

Because Nairu was looking down at him with a stiff expression.

When Richi awkwardly handed over the eraser, she lowered her eyes and mumbled in a blunt voice.

. . . anks.

It sounded like she'd mumbled "thanks," but she gripped the eraser tightly and turned forward again with that hard expression. Her profile looked utterly disgusted—like she was forcing herself to tolerate having someone she couldn't stand do something she didn't want. Richi felt a chill spreading through his chest and head.

The middle school Nairu who used to pout so adorably was disappearing.

Nairu was no longer the Nairu who had been his girlfriend.

I shouldn't have picked it up . . .

Fifth and sixth period ended, and cleaning time began. This week Richi's group was assigned to the classroom, and Nairu was in the same group, sweeping with a bored expression.

As Richi carefully moved desks while trying not to get too close to Nairu, he felt someone watching him.

When he turned around, Nairu was looking at him from the back entrance, her gaze fixed on where he stood by the windows.

Her mouth was pressed into a tight line, and she looked angry.

When their eyes met, she seemed to flinch slightly, but then she stared intensely at him again with those large, transparent light brown eyes.

Richi couldn't look away either, and they ended up staring at each other from opposite ends of the classroom.

. . .

. . .

They were probably both unsure who should look away first. While neither could break eye contact, a cheerful voice rang out.

Nairu! Club's off today, so we're going on a date after this!

Both Nairu and Richi jumped in surprise.

The person who appeared in their classroom was a boy with an appearance as bright and cheerful as his voice—Yohei Aiba.

When you picture someone who's good at sports, you usually imagine a tall, muscular guy, but everyone described Yohei as the idol type—slightly taller than average with a slender build and rather feminine features.

However, his beautiful face was full of mischievous, lively expressions, and when it came to sports, his natural talent was simply outstanding—he could handle any sport, any position, effortlessly despite any disadvantages in height or weight.

Wherever he was, whatever he did, he stood out like he was bathed in spotlights.

He was completely different from Richi, who was just a background character.

Nairu glanced at Richi once more, then immediately turned toward her boyfriend.

Fine, I'll leave it up to you.

That's what she seemed to say.

Seriously? You're really okay with leaving it all to me? If you say that, I'm gonna get excited and take you to all my favorite spots. Then at the end we'll stop by a convenience store to pick up some overnight supplies and head to my place—

Idiot.

Nairu used the handle of the broom she was holding to jab upward at Yohei's chin.

Whoa, that's harsh—to your own boyfriend.

We've been dating for three days—there's no way we're staying over.

Yeah, yeah, I'm a patient guy. Today we'll keep it wholesome. If you're the one who hugs me and says "I don't want to go home tonight," I can't be held responsible.

That's not happening.

What's with them, showing off like that?

Damn it, flaunting their perfect relationship like that. I want to flirt with the transfer student too.

The exchange between Yohei and Nairu really did look like a newly dating couple playfully teasing each other. Richi wasn't the only one who saw it that way and felt irritated.

Nairu didn't even turn back to look at Richi anymore, continuing her flirtatious banter with Yohei.

It's none of my business.

Nairu was no longer his girlfriend—that was long over.

Just as he was about to turn away and finish moving the desk, Yohei, who had been talking to Nairu, turned his handsome face toward Richi by the windows.

Huh?

His bright gaze clearly focused on Richi, and toward the surprised boy, he gave a casual, friendly smile.

It was only a brief moment, and then Yohei said:

Ah, I've got cleanup duty, so I'll catch you later.

Then he disappeared.

Neither Nairu nor their classmates seemed to notice that Yohei had smiled at Richi.

It left Richi feeling deeply unsettled.

What was that whole thing with Yohei yesterday?

It was the next day during break time.

Walking down the hallway, Richi was still bothered by the way Yohei Aiba had suddenly smiled at him yesterday.

Yohei hadn't looked mean or anything—quite the opposite, it was the kind of smile you'd give a close friend, like saying "Hey!" Richi wasn't Yohei's friend or even an acquaintance.

Did he mistake me for someone else?

Somehow, he was convinced that wasn't the case. Yohei knew exactly who Richi was and had smiled at him on purpose.

Since he couldn't understand the reason, that's probably what made him feel so unsettled.

This morning when Richi had arrived at school, Nairu was sitting at her desk wearing the same cold expression as always.

I wonder where she and Yohei went yesterday, just the two of them.

Was Nairu showing Yohei those same unexpected, endearing sides of herself that she used to show Richi when they were dating?

Even though it's none of my business.

He couldn't stop thinking about Nairu and Yohei, and he hated himself for it so much that his frustration kept building. That's when he ran into the source of all his irritation.

Yohei was in the hallway talking to a teacher, his hands clasped together in a pleading gesture, looking pathetic.

Come on, Teach, give me a break here. Making materials for the whole grade? That's way too much work. I swear I won't fall asleep in your class anymore, okay? We got a deal?

The English teacher, who also served as the rugby club advisor, grabed Yohei by the collar with his thick arm as he tried to leave.

Listen, you—don't skip, sleep, or make noise in other teachers' classes either, not just mine. How many times have you made that promise? About as many times as you've announced new relationships at volleyball club.

Gahhh, you're bringing that up as an example? Well, I've got another gorgeous and challenging girlfriend now.

Are you taking a shot at me for getting rejected at matchmaking again? Alright, I get it. Here are more materials for you.

Wahhhhh! I totally get that those matchmaking partners don't appreciate good men like you, Teach! I have club activities after school today—

Hah? Yohei, you skip all the time, don't you? Coach Ohata from volleyball was saying that if you'd focus on one sport and practice seriously, you could reach national level. Well, today you're working on these materials in the career guidance room. Come on, with some efficiency and hustle, you'll finish in no time and still make it to club activities.

No way, there's so much!

Yohei, dramatically lamenting, caught Richi's eye.

Richi immediately turned his face away.

Got it! Then I'll have him help me out. Right, Richi?

Startled by the sudden arm thrown around his shoulder and the unexpected request, Richi found himself at a loss for words.

Before he knew it, he was being considered a friend and ended up working alone with Yohei in the career guidance room after school.

Alright then, I'm counting on you. Uh . . . Richi? Make sure Yohei does the work properly. Don't let yourself end up doing it all.

With the teacher's reminder fresh in his mind, he couldn't bring himself to say "I'm not friends with this person."

Yohei spoke in a bright voice.

No problem! Richi and I will work together and divide it up!

He watched with a disheartened expression.

◇◇◇

I don't think I've ever talked to you before . . .

The school day had ended.

Richi worked diligently alongside Yohei at a long table in the career guidance room, combining copied printouts and stapling them together.

Call me Yohei.

With a worn-out expression, he rhythmically gathers the printouts and staples them together with steady clicks.

Why did you drag me into this, Yohei?

Huh? You're more strong-willed than you look. I asked you because I saw an opportunity. I've been curious about you and wanted to talk.

"More strong-willed than I look"—does that mean I come across as short, weak, and nerdy? Richi thought irritably, his expression darkening.

Why would someone popular like you be interested in an ordinary person like me?

With another click of the stapler, he continued his work.

Well, of course I'm curious about my girlfriend's ex-boyfriend.

He said it so casually.

Turning that annoyingly cheerful face toward the stunned Richi, Yohei said something even more unbelievable.

You were dating Nairu in middle school, right?

!

Nairu was complaining about it. She said it's unthinkable having her ex-boyfriend as a classmate sitting right next to her.

Because it's unthinkable.

Knowing this was Nairu's standard line for rejecting confessions, Richi felt like his chest had been slashed open.

Even when she was dating Richi, Nairu rarely talked about herself.

He had only learned about her parents' divorce and how her father had taken custody when he moved to Shikoku through gossip from other students.

Did Nairu tell Yohei that I was her ex-boyfriend?

It's just between the two of us.

Nairu was the one who made Richi swear they'd never tell anyone about their relationship!

His head suddenly started pounding, and the image of his beloved triceratops mug shattering played over and over in his mind.

He could see the mug falling to the floor and breaking.

Yes, that mug had broken.

Which mug was it? When, where, and how?

The scene of the mug breaking appeared crystal clear, like watching a video in slow motion, yet when he tried to remember what happened before and after, a strange fog clouded his thoughts. The core of his head throbbed even more painfully, leaving him breathless.

Not wanting to show weakness to Yohei—Nairu's boyfriend—Richi pushed up the bridge of his glasses and desperately whispered to himself to stay calm and composed. Rather than confirming Yohei's words, he deflected with a question instead.

How did you and Nairu start dating?

Yohei readily answered while keeping his hands busy with the work.

Well, the other day after school, I was having a breakup talk with my ex in the archive room on the third floor. She's a senior, and since she got her college recommendation and wanted to make memories before graduation, she confessed to me. I figured why not and said okay, so we started dating. All the attention made things uncomfortable for her, and she got to experience being someone's girlfriend, so she was satisfied—said anything more would be too much. So I was like, "Oh, then wanna break up?" After she said "Thanks for everything" and left the room. Turned out there was someone else in what I thought was an empty room.

That someone was Nairu.

Finding quiet places where she could be alone had been Nairu's specialty since middle school. That third-floor archive room was probably just another hideaway she'd quickly discovered.

As Yohei was startled by the sudden appearance of a mysterious long-haired beauty from behind the stacked materials, Nairu supposedly looked at him with an unfriendly expression and said:

Date me.

Man, that was the first time I've ever been speechless from a confession—totally new experience. At first I thought she was some beautiful ghost haunting the room.

Yohei said this with a carefree smile, looking absolutely delighted.

Richi could completely understand Yohei's confusion at that moment, but he couldn't comprehend why Nairu had suddenly confessed to him.

Had Nairu liked Yohei from before? Did she see it as her chance when she witnessed Yohei breaking up with his girlfriend?

Even though it hasn't even been two weeks since Nairu transferred here?

Or would even a cool girl like Nairu fall for a refreshingly handsome guy like Yohei at first sight?

Given that she had dated Richi, Nairu shouldn't be the type to care only about looks.

There had been rumors in middle school about her kissing an adult man in the passenger seat of a blue sports car . . .

While Richi sat there feeling disturbed, Yohei seemed even more pleased.

I immediately recognized her as the beautiful transfer student from Class 3, so I asked, "What, are you sympathizing with me getting dumped?" She just said no.

No.

Then, love at first sight?

Unthinkable.

You do like me . . . right? I mean, since you want to date me and all.

To be frank, I hate shallow, overconfident guys like you.

Huh?

Richi's eyes went wide.

Yohei flashed a sweet smile.

Yeah, she said she hated me. That she hates guys like me. Then she told me to date her. Crazy, right? In all my experience, only one other girl has ever said something that ridiculous to me. I never thought a second one would show up.

There was . . . another one?

He was more shocked that there had been another girl who confessed like that besides Nairu, and found himself staring in disbelief.

Unlike Richi, Yohei was used to normal confessions, so Nairu's bizarre approach had apparently piqued his interest instead.

Sure. I just broke up with my girlfriend anyway, so I’m free. Let’s date.

That's how I became Nairu's current boyfriend. Be nice to me, ex-boyfriend.

Is that really okay?! Richi thought to himself, finding the whole situation way too casual in every sense.

Ex-boyfriend.

Once again, he ignored the way Yohei addressed him.

That's a pretty weird way to start a relationship.

He muttered this while returning to his stapling. Yohei didn't seem discouraged in the slightest and kept that innocent look on his face.

I don't really care how it starts. You can always fall for someone after you start dating, right? Actually, I like Nairu way more now than when we first got together.

You've been dating for four days.

The sarcasm slipped out before he could stop it.

Ahaha, fair point. Right now, I'm completely crazy about Nairu.

Something almost provocative flashed in those bright eyes that made girls swoon over his idol-like looks, and it caught Richi off guard.

You and Nairu started dating in seventh grade, right? How did it happen? Who made the first move—you or Nairu?

Yohei was clearly trying to get him to talk about Nairu, but Richi ignored the question.

Yohei, you stopped working. I'd rather not be stuck here all day.

Yohei gave a slight shrug, looking disappointed, but immediately got back to work with that sickeningly sweet smile plastered on his face.

No worries. I'll just ask Nairu instead.

Richi's hands froze for a moment. He could feel the tension creeping into his face.

He let out a quiet, heavy breath and forced himself to focus on the work.

Stay calm, stay calm . . .

Yohei started chattering about school events and his volleyball team, but Richi tuned him out.