Winning the School Spirit Project Contest didn't just bring funding and recognition; it brought attention. And with attention came new members for the Classic Literature & Film Society. Suddenly, our quiet corner room was buzzing. Students who had never given classic literature or old films a second thought were lining up to join "the winning club" and, I suspected, to get closer to "the couple."
Managing the influx of new members was chaotic. Mr. Yoshida was thrilled but overwhelmed. Kenji tried to organize things with more enthusiasm than actual skill. Yuki Nakamura seemed mildly disturbed by the sudden lack of quiet. And the two first-years were completely star-struck by the sheer number of people in the room.
As the 'heroes' who saved the club and were now the 'official couple,' Sakura-san and I were expected to lead. We found ourselves running meetings, delegating tasks related to using the new funding (buying better equipment, organizing film screenings), and trying to instill some genuine interest in classic stories among the new members, many of whom seemed more interested in the social aspect.
This added a new layer to our relationship. We were navigating being a real couple, but also co-managing a suddenly popular club together. It was a different kind of teamwork than pretending, requiring actual coordination and dealing with practical problems.
One afternoon, tensions flared during a club meeting. Some of the new members were complaining about the film choices ("Too old! Why can't we watch something new?") or suggesting activities completely unrelated to the club's purpose ("Let's just use the funding for a club party!").
A couple of the more vocal new members started questioning the direction, even subtly challenging our choices as leaders. "Just because you guys won the contest doesn't mean you know what's best for everyone in the club," one of them said, looking directly at Sakura-san and me.
Sakura-san's public smile was in place, but her eyes were sharp. This was her grandmother's club, the one she'd fought to save. Seeing its purpose diluted and questioned clearly bothered her.
I saw the frustration building in her. As her boyfriend, and her partner in saving the club, I felt a surge of protectiveness.
"Hey," I said, stepping forward slightly. "We won the contest by focusing on classic literature and film. That's the core of this club. The funding is to help us appreciate that more, not turn it into something else."
My intervention seemed to surprise the complaining members, and even Sakura-san slightly. My usual 'average' self didn't usually speak up so directly, especially not to confront others.
The discussion became heated. It wasn't a major crisis, but it was a clear sign that saving the club didn't automatically mean smooth sailing. Managing success brought its own set of challenges, including dealing with conflicting ideas and personalities within the club itself.
Sakura-san stepped in, her voice calm but firm, mediating the discussion, explaining the club's history and purpose, and finding a compromise that addressed some concerns while maintaining the club's core identity. She was a natural leader.
After the meeting finally ended and everyone had left, the clubroom was quiet again. The remnants of the tension still lingered in the air.
Sakura-san sighed, running a hand through her hair. "That was... challenging."
"Yeah," I agreed. "Didn't think managing success would be this complicated."
She looked at me, a small, tired smile on her face. "Thanks for stepping in, Tanaka-kun. You surprised me. You're usually so quiet in meetings."
My face felt warm. "Well, they were questioning the club. And... and you."
Her smile softened. "It means a lot that you stood up for us. For me." She paused, then added, "You're a good partner, Hiroshi."
Hiroshi. Hearing her use my first name, casually, in that quiet moment after the stress of the meeting, felt incredibly real and warm.
"You're a good leader, Sakura," I replied, using her first name in return, just as naturally. It felt right.
She blushed slightly at hearing her first name from me. The awkwardness was still there, but now it was mixed with a comfortable familiarity.
We spent some time together, tidying up the clubroom, talking about the meeting, and then just talking about our day. The stress of managing the club had been real, but navigating it together, as a team, strengthened our bond in a new way. It wasn't just about romance; it was about building something, solving problems, and relying on each other in a practical sense.
As we left the school that evening, the sun setting, the hallways quiet, I felt a different kind of connection than the one built on fake dating. This was about shared responsibility, mutual support, and working together towards common goals. It was about being partners, not just a couple.
The first real challenge of our real relationship wasn't about our feelings; it was about managing the success of the club that had brought us together. And doing it side-by-side, supporting each other, felt like a promising sign for whatever future challenges lay ahead.