They say the first day of the month is the start of something new.
New shoes, new habits, new haircuts that you immediately regret but pretend to love because you spent 3,000 yen on them.
For me, it began with a poem.
A love poem.
Read aloud.
In front of thirty-five people.
By the girl who hadn't spoken a full sentence since the school year began.
Yes. That girl.
The one who flinched when the chalk squeaked.
The one who practically dissolved into thin air every time someone said her name.
Rin Kamoshida.
The classroom was silent.
Not the peaceful kind, like when snow gently falls on temple roofs in Kyoto.
No, this was that heavy, suffocating silence right before a firework explodes in your hand.
Or, in my case, the silence before social implosion.
The windows were open. The early April breeze fluttered through pale blue curtains, bringing in the soft scent of sakura petals and impending doom.
Outside, the world was moving on, birds chirping, students laughing somewhere in the courtyard. Inside, we were all trapped in this surreal slice-of-life turned shoujo manga confession scene.
The homeroom blackboard still had chalk smudges from yesterday's class notes:
"Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell."
A timeless classic. Truly romantic.
Nothing seemed unusual—
Except for the fact that Rin Kamoshida was standing in front of my desk, hands trembling, face flushed deeper than a ripe persimmon, and reading this:
"Your eyes—like dew on morning grass,
Unnoticed, gentle, foolishly kind.
If love is madness, let me shatter like glass,
So long as I'm shattered by you."
The class didn't breathe.
I froze.
No—my soul froze.
Even my mitochondria were like: "Bro, we're shutting down operations. You're on your own."
I think my soul physically left my body, hovered at the ceiling for a moment, and whispered, "Nope."
Rin Kamoshida, the girl who typically communicated only in nods and existential eye contact, stood trembling in front of my desk like she was about to duel me for the fate of the universe.
This had to be a prank.
A hidden camera show.
Any second now, someone would pop out of a locker with a mic and scream, "Gotcha! You're on National Embarrassment Live!"
But no one came.
"…I-I like you, Mizuki Kaito!" Rin finally squeaked, voice breaking like a vinyl record dragged through static. "P-please go out with me!"
Cue: utter chaos.
Literally.
…Initiating social meltdown in three… two…
"EH?!"
"WAIT, WHAT?!"
"DID SHE SAY KAITO?!"
"POETRY!? WHO EVEN WRITES POETRY ANYMORE?!"
You could feel the shockwave ripple through the room like someone just slapped a rice cracker out of God's hand.
Tanaka dropped his pencil case.
Saito choked on a rice cracker.
"I thought Kamoshida-san was mute!"
"Did he use some kind of dark spell on her?!"
You'd think being confessed to would feel… I don't know, romantic?
Instead, my brain short-circuited like an old vending machine.
Error 404: Feelings Not Found.
Please restart the protagonist.
My mouth opened. Words tried to form. But all I managed was:
"…Eh?"
Yup. That's right.
The most eloquent response to a heartfelt poem and public confession was a single syllable of pure confusion.
Even the teacher, who had just walked in with his cup of vending machine coffee, paused like he'd just walked into a live-action drama.
"Kamoshida-san… uh… do you need a moment?" he asked, clearly rethinking every career decision he'd ever made.
Rin shook her head furiously, her twin braids flailing like panicked antennae.
"N-no! I meant it!" she said, louder this time. "I like Mizuki-kun! I've liked him since the cultural festival! Since he… he gave me his extra yakisoba!"
THAT?!
That's the moment that did it?!
I gave her food because I had a coupon!
Suddenly, the entire room was on fire. Not literally, unfortunately. But the atmosphere felt like someone had lit a sparkler and tossed it into a room full of awkward teenagers.
Someone started clapping.
It was Yuuki.
That traitor.
"Bro," he whispered across the aisle, his face lit with the enthusiasm of a romcom fanboy. "She's totally your type, right?"
"Type? I don't have a type!"
"C'mon. Quiet girl. Poetic. Terrified of her own shadow. Classic anime waifu."
"This is real life!"
"Exactly! It's your origin story!"
Origin story my—!
This wasn't a shounen manga!
I was sixteen!
I had math homework and a lunchbox that smelled faintly of mackerel!
"Um…" Rin was still standing there. Still red. Still trembling.
Still holding a handwritten poem on lined notebook paper like it was the Declaration of Love-pendence.
All eyes were on me.
And somewhere, in the back corner of the classroom, the class rep was already writing "Rin x Kaito" in her notebook like it was canon.
This… was a disaster.
But also…
A very well-written poem.
__
Let me backtrack.
I'm a First-year at Minamisakura High School. 16 years old. Hair: black (not the cool, shiny anime kind, just regular 'I-woke-up-ten-minutes-ago' black). Height: aggressively average.
Grades: somewhere between "meh" and "someone check if he's still breathing." Interests: rhythm games I can't beat and milk tea that I pretend I drink for the taste, not the sugar high.
My hobbies? Walking behind interesting people and trying not to be noticed, which sounds creepy out of context—okay, it is creepy even in context—but hey, some of us were born to be background characters.
In short: a textbook NPC. Non-playable character. Supporting role. The dude who hands you a side quest in a JRPG, then disappears forever into the pixelated abyss.
Or if we're being generous… a background character with a side quest nobody ever triggers.
You know the kind—the guy who stands next to the school gate every day, arms crossed, nodding meaningfully at nothing in particular. Yeah, that's me. If you clicked on me in a visual novel, all you'd get is:
"The weather's nice today."
And then the conversation box disappears like I never existed.
Truly iconic.
This is just... my life.
A painfully normal life. The kind where your biggest challenge is picking the right vending machine because one of them is cursed with warm soda and broken dreams.