Even though our relationship was real, and the primary reason for the initial 'performance' (saving the club) was accomplished, the pressure to 'perform' didn't entirely disappear. It just shifted. Now, the pressure was to appear as the successful, stable, and non-distracting couple that had won the contest and that Sakura's family (and peers like Ichiro Sato) would ideally approve of.
This was particularly true during school events or around certain people. When we were just us, or with Kenji and Aiko, we could relax into our real dynamic. But in a crowded hallway, or near the Student Council room, or when I spotted someone like Ichiro Sato, a subtle shift occurred. Sakura's composure would heighten slightly, and I would feel that familiar urge to stand a little straighter, look a little more confident, and generally try not to look like the 'average guy' who didn't belong.
One afternoon, there was a school assembly related to university applications. All the second and third-year students were gathered. Sakura was on stage, as part of the Student Council, helping with the presentation. I was sitting in the audience with Kenji and Aiko.
Seeing her on stage, poised and articulate, talking about application procedures and deadlines, highlighted the gap between our worlds again. She was in her element, a leader, aiming for the top. I was in the audience, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sheer complexity of the application process.
During a break, she scanned the audience, and her eyes found mine. She gave me a small, quick smile, just for me, before her public facade clicked back into place to answer a student's question. That small smile was a lifeline, a reminder of the real connection beneath the public performance.
After the assembly, the hallways were crowded with students discussing universities and exams. Sakura was surrounded by students asking her questions, her public self fully engaged. I hung back slightly, not wanting to intrude on her 'official' duties, feeling that familiar prickle of being in her world but not quite of it.
As I waited, I saw Ichiro Sato talking to a group of students nearby. He looked impeccably put together, his expression serious and focused on the conversation, which sounded like it was about mock exam scores and university rankings. He embodied the competitive academic world.
He glanced over and saw me standing there, waiting for Sakura. His expression remained neutral, but his gaze lingered for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, an almost imperceptible look of assessment, perhaps even a hint of skepticism that I was waiting there, part of Sakura Yamato's life.
The look wasn't overtly hostile, but it carried the weight of judgment. It was the look of someone evaluating a variable in an equation, wondering if it belonged.
Sakura finished her conversation and, spotting me, excused herself gracefully from the group. She walked over, her public smile softening slightly as she reached me.
"Sorry about that, Hiroshi," she said softly, her voice a little tired. "Lots of questions today."
"It's okay, Sakura," I replied. "You were great up there."
She smiled, a genuine, tired smile. "Thanks. Ready to head to the clubroom?"
As we walked away, side-by-side, navigating the crowded hallway, I could feel the eyes on us – the usual public attention, but also, I suspected, the assessing gaze of people like Ichiro Sato.
"I saw Ichiro Sato," I commented, my voice low.
Sakura's smile faded slightly. "Ah. Yes. He was there."
"He... looked over," I said. "Like he was... assessing."
Sakura sighed softly. "He does that. He's very focused on... potential. In people. And how things fit into a certain path."
She didn't elaborate, but I knew what she meant. My presence in her life, my relationship with her, was likely being assessed by people like him through the lens of her academic future and her family's expectations. Did it add to her potential? Or subtract from it?
"Sometimes it feels like we're still performing," I admitted, voicing the thought that had been bothering me. "Trying to look like the 'right' kind of couple. The non-distracting kind."
Sakura squeezed my arm gently. "I know, Hiroshi-kun. It's not fair. Our real relationship shouldn't have to be a performance for others."
She stopped walking for a second, turning to look at me in the slightly less crowded part of the hallway. Her expression was serious and sincere. "But... maybe... maybe it's not just a performance for them. Maybe... maybe it's also about showing ourselves. That we can do this. That we can be happy and supportive, and still face the pressures. That our relationship makes us stronger, not weaker."
Her words were a powerful reframing. The pressure to 'perform' wasn't just about external validation; it was also about internal strength, about proving to ourselves that our love could thrive amidst the challenges.
"Maybe," I agreed, taking her hand.
We continued walking, hand in hand this time, navigating the remaining crowds. The pressure to perform for others was still there, a subtle weight. But her words, and the feel of her hand in mine, changed its meaning. We weren't just trying to convince them. We were trying to prove to ourselves that our unexpected, real love was strong enough for the very real world she inhabited. The performance wasn't about hiding; it was about demonstrating our strength, together.