“What do you think that senior’s feeling when he’s confessing like that?”
She asked casually, leaning against the wall.
Her expression looked slightly bitter.
Then, a thought hit me.
“Hm, do you maybe like that senior?”
“Not at all.”
Instant reply.
“Oh, never mind then.”
Yeah, figures. My big mouth’s the problem.
But seriously, what am I supposed to do when she springs a question like that?
I’d have to have confessed to know.
“Guess since she’s pretty and has a nice figure, he’s just taking a shot?”
She stared at the blue sky, muttering with a sigh.
Like she’d already expected as much.
Probably from experience. I mean, with her looks.
She’s likely tired of being hit on by countless guys she barely knows.
“Can’t really deny that.”
I muttered, leaning against the wall too.
It’s probably instinct.
Humans are animals too.
Our intelligence lets us suppress instincts, but they don’t disappear.
Everyone—men, women, young, old—is drawn to beauty, charm, cuteness, or reliability.
In my opinion, instincts hit hardest during school years.
Middle and high school, specifically.
Not as innocent as kids, not as mature as adults—an awkward phase.
Like the “eighth-grader syndrome,” it’s a time of wandering, when people often can’t control their instincts.
“You ever done that?”
“Not at all.”
Instant reply.
I was talking about the male instinct buried deep inside, not saying I’d do it.
“I’m not brave enough—or rude enough—to confess to someone I don’t know.”
I added.
“Maybe rude’s the wrong word?”
She glanced at me, a faint smile on her lips.
“Hm, both make sense, I think. It’s not like confessing to a stranger never works. No idea what happens after, though.”
“Fair. So you’re the latter type?”
“Yeah. I think relationships should be built slowly. Something that pops up out of nowhere feels unstable, doesn’t it?”
“True. That’s why they say relationships are the hardest thing. But people are different, so respecting others is key.”
Unless, of course, they don’t respect me—then it’s pointless.
She turned to face me fully, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“I see. By the way, you didn’t answer my earlier question.”
“What question? Oh—”
What do you think that senior’s feeling when he’s confessing like that?
Honestly, one thing popped into my head right away. It’s still the only thing I can think of.
“He probably just wants to hook up.”
“Hook up? Oh…”
Silence fell.
I glanced over, and her ears, peeking through her blonde hair, were slightly red.
Crap, I messed up.
The conversation was flowing so well, I got carried away.
“…Sorry. That was out of line. Please don’t report me.”
She shook her head.
“No, it’s fine. You just answered my question. I was thinking the same thing. It just caught me off guard ‘cause you said it so bluntly.”
“That’s a relief.”
Phew.
My heart, which had dropped, settled back into place.
This girl’s pretty straightforward for someone I just met.
“But let me ask again, is this okay?”
“Huh?”
“I get explaining the situation, but do we need to keep talking like this?”
Now that I think about it, this isn’t a first-meeting kind of conversation, is it?
“What do you mean?”
“Like you said, students love gossip. Talking like this makes it more likely I’d spread rumors, right?”
It’s the age of turbulence.
School years are full of jealousy and rivalry.
It’s also when people learn to manipulate and exaggerate.
A tiny rumor spreads, gets twisted, and blows up.
For someone as popular as she seems, that could be deadly.
“…You’re right.”
She nodded, like she was reflecting on a mistake.
“Sorry. Now that I think about it, I had ulterior motives. I figured you’d be fine since you’re so quiet and don’t care about rumors.”
“Guess so. I wasn’t planning to spread any, though. Plus, this is a secluded spot, and no one’s passed by, so it’s probably fine.”
I wasn’t offended.
Like she said, I’m practically invisible in class.
“But that’s not all. You might think this is our first meeting, but I’ve seen you around a lot.”
“What?”
“You’re in the student council, right?”
“You knew?”
“Yeah.”
Not many people know I’m in the student council.
I joined late in my first year, and there wasn’t some big ceremony.
Only a few club leaders and teachers know. I don’t have friends to tell, either.
So how does she know?
Ding dong deng dong.
The warning bell for the end of lunch rang.
“Time’s up already.”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry for holding you up so long.”
“It’s fine.”
“See you in class.”
“Yeah.”
We exchanged a quick goodbye, and I turned to leave.
“Oh, wait.”
She called me back.
“I’m Kurokawa Kyoka, just in case you didn’t know.”
“Uh… yeah, okay.”
With that, she confidently rounded the corner.
Waiting there was the pink-haired girl who’d been confessed to.
Before heading to the school gate, she shot me a sharp glance.
Her eyes felt piercingly cold.

The next day.
As usual, I gazed at the blue sky outside the window.
Just because we talked once doesn’t mean we’re suddenly buddies who greet each other.
No fantasy-like bonding happened.
Since that day, Kurokawa and I haven’t even made eye contact.
That’s only natural. Expecting anything else would be dumb.
‘By the way, didn’t the president say the cooking tools came in today?’
This morning, I stopped by the student council room, and the president mentioned something, but I was half-asleep and didn’t catch it.
I’ll check again at lunch.
And so, before lunch, fourth period.
Home economics class.
I totally forgot about it.
“Ugh, if I’d known, I wouldn’t have packed a lunch.”
Right now, a delicious lunch is sleeping in my bag.
A lunch I diligently made early this morning.
I should’ve just slept in.
Sure, I missed the announcement during homeroom, but this feels unfair.
Normally, friends would be like, “Tomorrow’s home ec is gonna be fun!” or “What kind of pasta are we making?” to remind everyone about special classes.
That way, even forgetful people remember.
But me?
I don’t have anyone to message.
Shouldn’t they consider people without friends?
…Fine, it’s my fault for not having any.
“Alright, everyone, form groups. It’s not a complicated menu, so two or three people should be enough!”
At the teacher’s words, the class got busy.
Our class has twenty-five students.
Even for an island, that’s a decent number.
“You good at cooking?”
“…I’m not bad.”
“Cool, join us then.”
People paired up with friends, but those less confident roped in the shy kids who could cook.
Groups started forming.
Then, a guy approached me as I sat quietly in the corner.
Since I’m a guy, I remember male classmates better than female ones.
His name’s Hashimoto Haruto.
He was in my class last year too—a popular guy.
“Yo, Hoshino. Same class this year, huh? Wanna join our group?”
He flashed a friendly smile and offered his hand.
But I didn’t take it.
“Nah, find someone who’s actually good at cooking. I’m not.”
It’s not like I have anything against him.
It’s just that, as a guy, his easygoing smile bugs me.
And popular kids in general? I don’t get them. My personality can’t handle it.
Better to cut it off before it causes trouble.
“That’s a shame.”
Hashimoto turned away coolly.
I felt a bit bad, but what can you do?
I’d rather team up with another loner or just do it alone for peace of mind.
“Oh no, Hoshino-kun, what do we do?”
…Am I really the only one left? Out of twenty-five?
The home ec teacher approached me with a pitying look.
I was the only one left after everyone else grouped up.
“I can ask your classmates if—”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll do it alone. More ingredients for me, so I’ll eat well.”
“R-Really?”
“Yeah, it’s actually better this way.”
I cut her off before she could yell, “Anyone want to group with Hoshino-kun?”
Nothing’s more embarrassing than that.
The home ec teacher, though a teacher, had a warm, housewife vibe.
Like she’d be the first to sprint for a timed sale at the store.
Anyway, she rolled up her sleeves.
“Then how about with me?”
“Huh?”
That’s… not ideal either.