Aohar Island.
Translated, it means “Youth” Island.
I don’t know if this island actually exists. Never heard of it, never been here before.
But the place where I’m standing right now is Aohar Island.
This is reality. Yet, this world isn’t the one I used to live in.
I, Hoshino Ryo, am not from this world.
How do I know?
You just figure it out when you live long enough.
It was around the end of my second year of middle school, I think. I started recalling memories of my past life.
Whether I was possessed and those memories came naturally, or I’ve been living here all along and they just surfaced now, I’m not sure.
It feels like the latter. Every memory is as vivid as if I lived it myself.
Anyway, that doesn’t matter much. The real issue is that I ended up in this world.
And not just anywhere, but as a student at Aohar High School on Aohar Island.
Double youth? What even is that?
Youth is supposed to be a positive word.
But for me, it feels like the opposite.
Normally, positive times positive equals positive, right?
So why does it feel like a negative for me?
“Ugh.”
I sighed and walked down the hallway.
At the end, there’s a sign.
[Student Council Room]
My brow furrows automatically.
Surprisingly, I’m pretty diligent about attending school.
And why wouldn’t I be? I’m part of the student council.
Though, I was half-forced into joining. If it weren’t for that, my school life would probably be a total mess by now.
Creak.
When I opened the door, a large, ruggedly handsome guy was sitting there, practically glowing.
“President. You’re alive and well, I see.”
“Ryo…!!”
He looked at me with pitiful, teary eyes, tears streaming down his face.
It’s been a while since winter break ended, and this is my first time seeing the student council president, Kaito Kenichi, my senior.
“Now, now. Stop the tears.”
“Sniff… Thank you… Really, thank you…!!”
He’s a big guy but ridiculously soft-hearted. Honestly, it’s understandable.
He worked his butt off to get elected as student council president, all for one girl.
He wasn’t exactly popular in his grade, but through sheer effort, he won votes from the other two grades and secured the position.
The person he was smitten with? None other than the vice president who got elected alongside him.
About a month later, he mustered up the courage to confess…
And, well, the result is obvious. At first, it seemed like they’d stay friends, but then the vice president suddenly transferred schools.
It was an unprecedented event—the vice president quitting the student council.
The official reason was “family circumstances.”
This is an island. Moving to the city is common enough.
But the timing was so suspicious that the student council’s morale hit rock bottom. And now, it’s just me and the president left.
“President, I’m telling you, I’m fine. If I ever quit, I’ll give you two weeks’ notice, alright?”
“…Sniff.”
Tears welled up in the president’s eyes again.
In a workplace with just the two of us, he’s like a boss watching his only employee show up every day.
If I skipped even one day without notice, his heart would probably stop.
…Hang in there, President. I’m not exactly thrilled to be here either. If I get fed up, you might have to handle this alone. Yep.
“By the way, President, it’s the new semester. I don’t have much to do right now, do I?”
Student council secretary.
Or, as I call it, the errand runner. That’s my job.
“Well, about that…”
Wiping his tears with a handkerchief that looked comically small for his size, the president switched to business mode.
“Valentine’s Day is coming up, you know?”
“…Yeah?”
School started on February 1st.
The opening ceremony is usually uneventful. The next day was Friday, and I skipped it with some momentum.
Saturday and Sunday? Obviously skipped. The next two days, I skipped to “adjust to class.”
Valentine’s Day is February 14th.
Just one week away.
Psh, one week. What could possibly happen?
But life never goes as planned.
My bad feeling was spot on.
“There’s a suggestion to make chocolates during home economics class that day.”
“What?”
I immediately wanted to say, “Oh, I’ve got something to do,” and bolt out of the student council room.
But I held back, imagining how the president would sob pathetically if left alone.
Man, emotions are scary.
I sighed and said,
“Do we really have to? Store-bought chocolates taste way better.”
“Even a cooking disaster like me agrees, but… it’s about the meaning of making chocolates on Valentine’s Day.”
“There are people like you and me who don’t care about Valentine’s Day at all.”
What even is Valentine’s Day?
A day to hand over chocolates and confess, “I-I’m serious!”?
Nope.
Okay, maybe, just maybe, it’s the thrill of showing up to school right before you’re late, hoping there’s chocolate under your desk?
That’s about as likely as winning the lottery. No, even less likely.
So, nope.
Then what is Valentine’s Day?
It’s the day people bet on who’ll get the most chocolates.
Do you bet on the safest pick, the most popular kid in class?
Or take a chance on a dark horse?
Of course, I don’t have any friends, so I’d have to make that bet alone.
“…Ryo, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re onto something.”
“Huh?”
“Ryo, how many chocolates have you gotten on Valentine’s Day, excluding pity chocolates?”
“Well, I mean—”
“Not counting family.”
“Uh, still…”
“Oh, and no relatives either.”
“…”
As my silence stretched, the president gave me a wistful smile and patted my shoulder.
“It’s okay. I’m in the same boat.”
Damn, that stings.
“…So what’s your point? If we can’t receive chocolates, we make them ourselves? Is that it?”
“Well, that’s part of it, but not the main reason.”
“Then what?”
“Like I said, there are people like us who don’t get a single chocolate on Valentine’s Day. But if we make chocolates as a group, it might ease some of that isolation.”
“Uh… I don’t really care—”
“And! It increases the chances, doesn’t it!?”
“What?”
“The chances of getting chocolates! If everyone makes chocolates, there’ll be more to go around! Which means people like me—no, I mean, the left-out kids—might actually get some!”
This guy just said “me.”
…President, you’re that old and still holding onto hope?
“President, zero times a hundred or a thousand is still zero.”
“Ryo, nothing is impossible! You can’t rule out even the tiniest chance!”
“It’s like finding one grain of rice in a 40kg sack. Maybe two if you’re lucky.”
“…”
“By the way, President, this idea wasn’t yours, was it?”
“No way! Look at this!”
He opened the suggestion box.
Sure enough, there were plenty of proposals to make chocolates on Valentine’s Day.
Of course, it’s not like outcasts like the president or me would suggest this.
Probably the popular kids who think Valentine’s Day is fun came up with it.
“Ugh, even if we do it, won’t it just make things harder for the home economics teacher?”
“You’re right. That’s why I need your help, Ryo.”
The president clasped his hands and bowed his head.
“Could you make a recipe!? Unlike me, who’s hopeless at cooking, you’re good at it! Please, make a recipe for the students who can’t cook!”
“…I’m not that good.”
A recipe.
Recipes for making chocolates are everywhere if you look.
But the president wasn’t talking about just any recipe.
He meant one tailored to the cooking tools available at school.
Even a slight difference in equipment or heat can turn food into charcoal for some people.
“Please. I’ll handle everything else.”
Despite his demeanor, President Kaito Kenichi is meticulous.
He probably already anticipated my response.
“Fine, alright. Then you’re handling the cooking tools, ingredients, and printing the recipes, right?”
“Of course! If we’re short on funds, I’ll cover it myself, so don’t worry.”
“…No, you don’t have to go that far.”
He wasn’t joking.
The president’s family is loaded. I visited his house once and almost got lost in their yard.
Since then, I avoid talking about money around him.
“Let’s wrap up for today. I need to make a prototype, so get the cooking tools ready within two days.”
“Got it. Thanks, Ryo.”
“No big deal.”
I shrugged and left the student council room.
A student council with just two members.
Isn’t this basically a sweatshop?