The loud, welcome ring of the bell signaled the start of lunch break, and the already buzzing classroom immediately erupted into chaos.
Almost immediately, Rei was instantly swarmed by gossipers who wanted her to spill the tea.
The moment the teacher left the room, her classmates, eager for more gossip and details about the sensational Basuta incident, converged on her desk like a flock of hungry birds.
Their questions were relentless, ranging from the truly serious—"How did you manage to escape? Was Basuta terrifying?"—to the ridiculously trivial—"Was Kageyama-kun really that cool when he fought? If I try, can I fix him?"
Tadano Taro, who had waited patiently for the bell, made a move toward Rei’s desk, intent on asking her to join him for lunch.
However, he was summarily blocked and pushed aside by the sheer mass of girls surrounding her.
He tried to politely excuse himself and squeeze through, but the wall of eager gossips was impenetrable.
Seeing the solid, impenetrable group surrounding Rei, Taro felt a familiar wave of defeat and resignation, and so he chose to simply give up, like he always did.
After all, he wasn’t aggressive enough to elbow his way through, so he simply sighed, realizing he wouldn’t get a moment alone with her.
He decided to give up on Rei for today and instead head to the library, where he knew his other friend, Fujiwara Touka, surely was.
As he walked, a quiet confidence settled over him, displacing the awkwardness he felt around Rei.
After days of intentionally seeking out Touka, talking with her, and observing her gentle, kind nature, Taro finally felt clarity.
He was completely, genuinely in love with Touka.
He was also convinced that his feelings were fully reciprocated.
’She is in love with me as well!’ he believed firmly.
After all, Touka was notoriously reserved, rarely speaking to boys, and he was certain that he was the only boy who was close to her, frequently visiting her café and spending time with her.
More significantly, he was the only one privileged enough to have seen her face without the long bangs covering her face—albeit, by accident—a secret he felt lent their relationship a special, intimate status.
He was sure that what they had was unique and precious.
Today was the day he would end the confusion and take the next step.
He decided to finally confess his feelings!
With his heart pounding a steady, hopeful rhythm, Taro quickly left the room, heading toward the library.
Back in the classroom, Rei was trying her best to answer the deluge of questions without revealing too much or being outright rude.
Despite her attempts to appear calm, she felt a rising prickle of annoyance and wanted nothing more than to leave this place.
She glanced up, looking for a familiar face, a friendly distraction, or anyone to help fend off the horde.
She noticed Taro’s empty desk and realized he had simply left the room.
A wave of sharp resentment immediately hit her. He had walked out without even a glance, without saying anything, leaving her to deal with all these relentless gossipers alone.
His sudden retreat felt like another small betrayal, confirming that while he may have apologized, he still wasn’t the reliable friend he used to be.
She quickly turned her gaze towards the back of the room, looking for Seijirou, hoping to catch his attention and perhaps use his intimidating presence to scatter the crowd.
But she noticed his desk was also empty.
He, too, had already left.
A silent sense of abandonment settled over her.
She sighed inwardly, feeling helpless.
She had no choice but to deal with these persistent girls on her own, forcing a patient smile and continuing to dispense cautious, sanitized answers.
Taro continued his walk toward the library, the hopeful smile still plastered on his face.
He was humming a cheerful, tuneless melody, his mind racing through potential confession scenarios.
Should I be formal, or casual? Maybe something sweet, like, "Every time I see you, my day brightens, will you please go out with me?".
He got so absorbed in imagining his already successful confession and planning their first date—maybe a quiet evening at the arcade, or a picnic—that the disappointment from his encounter with Rei had completely vanished.
When he finally arrived at the wide, wooden doors of the school library, he saw her.
Touka was standing just outside, a vision of quiet grace, with her long, straight bangs—which usually hid her features—partially obscured her expression as she waited timidly near the entrance.
He beamed, his heart swelling with conviction.
’She was waiting for me! She must have known I would come here!’ he thought to himself.
He was just about to call out her name, "Fujiwara-san!" when his voice froze in his throat, a sudden, cold wave of recognition washing over him.
Stepping out of the library, right in front of Touka, was the formidable presence of Kageyama Seijirou.
Taro watched, paralyzed, as Seijirou casually handed back a library card—Touka’s card, he realized with a pang—to her.
The interaction seemed entirely normal, yet utterly devastating, his heart feeling like it would break into thousand pieces.
Then, Touka tilted her head and smiled at Seijirou, which stunned Taro.
It was a radiant, unguarded expression that made her normally shy demeanor vanish.
A smile that Taro himself had never once seen her wear, a smile that spoke volumes of genuine, unbridled happiness and comfort in Seijirou’s presence.
Taro felt a physical, wrenching pain in his chest, as if a fist had clenched around his heart.
Why? Touka was acting so shy, yet so open, her eyes sparkling as she spoke to Kageyama. Aren’t they close? Don’t they have something special? After all, he’s the only one who talks to her!
The questions hammered inside his skull, sharp and unforgiving: How come she never acts like that with him? How come she doesn’t smile like that for him?
He began to search desperately for a reason, a flaw, anything that could make sense of this profound betrayal.
Just how is Kageyama Seijirou so much better than me?
The answer arrived instantly, a brutally honest and self-lacerating cascade of thoughts: Kageyama was far more handsome than him, possessing sharp, confident features.
He was more physically gifted, his body lean and powerful.
He was more talented in everything he did, seemingly effortlessly so.
He was smarter, always top of the grade.
And he has a lot of money, with rich and influential parents who controlled the almost the entire city’s local government.
Kageyama is the epitome of masculinity, the ideal man, the alpha male. Everything Tadano Taro himself could only meekly dream of becoming.
Then, as if the universe were actively trying to mock his miserable realization, Seijirou glanced up, saw Taro standing there, frozen and defeated, and smiled—not a mean smile, but a casual, indifferent one that saw Taro as nothing more than background noise.
Seijirou turned his full attention back to Touka, and then committed the final, unforgivable act.
He reached out, his fingers incredibly casual, and gently moved Touka’s long bangs away from her face, tucking them behind her ear.
This single, intimate gesture revealed her features fully: that beautiful face that Taro had stumbled upon once by accident, believing he had the singular, privileged memory of its perfection.
But now, Kageyama so casually revealed her face—a face so beautiful it could mesmerize anyone—with the confidence of someone who had seen it a thousand times.
Taro squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, wishing for a miracle.
Slap his hand away, Touka! Don’t let him do that! Show him he’s crossed a line!
But contrary to his desperate thoughts, and much to his excruciating pain, Touka didn’t slap his hand away.
She just blushed a deep, vibrant pink, her eyes lowering shyly, but she didn’t try to look away, nor did she smack his hands away.
She accepted the intimacy of his touch.
Kageyama then said something low and inaudible—likely a private joke, judging by the way Touka giggled softly.
He thrn placed a hand lightly on her lower back, a proprietary gesture, and they began to walk away from the library together, heading down the hall, oblivious to the wreck they left behind.
Taro’s legs, which was already shaky, immediately went limp as he collapsed onto the hard, cold tile floor, and the dam finally broke.
Tears began to stream uncontrollably down his cheeks, quickly mingling with snot running from his nose.
He made no sound, the grief too deep for crying, just silent, agonizing sobs.
He watched the man who was better than him in everything—the man who effortlessly took the woman he loved—walk away, and the final, crushing thought resonated through his empty chest:
Taro finally realized just how pathetic he was.
He was the secondary character, the awkward footnote, completely incapable of competing with the alpha male who existed in his world.
He was the one who was forgotten, the one who was left behind, utterly and completely alone.