CH6: Back when it was all safe and sound Part1

Ever since elementary school, I was an introvert. I didn’t enjoy being in a crowd, nor did I seek out attention. Books and games were my safe haven. I loved getting lost in storybooks, where I could dive into worlds that were far more exciting and less stressful than reality. When I wasn't reading, I had my handheld game consoles. There were some friends I played with on occasion, but I always felt more comfortable alone. I didn’t mind it—being by myself meant I didn’t have to worry about anyone else’s expectations or energy.

Despite my introverted tendencies, I did well in academics. I often got little star stickers from my teachers, and my parents were always proud of me. They saw me as their quiet, diligent son. I suppose, for them, that was enough.

Then there was Rikka—the polar opposite of me. She was known throughout the school for being loud, energetic, and full of life. She excelled in sports, was involved in every school event, and seemed to have a special charm that drew people to her. The teachers loved her because she was dependable, and her classmates admired her for her fearless, outgoing nature. She was a magnet for attention, especially among the boys. Everyone wanted to be her friend, and she could easily brighten any room she stepped into with her laughter.

I had noticed her from afar, of course, but I never imagined we’d have anything to do with one another. People like her and people like me… we existed in different worlds. Or so I thought.

One afternoon, during recess, I found my usual hiding spot—the stairwell tucked in the corner of the school. It was quiet, secluded, and away from the noisy playground where kids were busy playing tag, kicking soccer balls, and running around. I sat there, silently engrossed in my handheld game console. The soft, pixelated sounds of my game kept me absorbed in my own world, a place where everything made sense.

But my solitude didn’t last long. “Hey. Whatcha doin’?”

I looked up, startled. Rikka was standing right in front of me, her big, bright eyes curious and full of life. Her hair was tied up in a messy ponytail, and she had a bit of dirt on her knee from whatever sport she’d been playing earlier.

“Uh… just playing,” I mumbled, glancing down at my console.

“Is it fun?” she asked, leaning in to peek at the screen. Her face was way too close for my

comfort, and I instinctively tried to lean back, but I was already pressed against the wall.

“Yeah… it is,” I answered quietly, unsure why she was even talking to me.

She tilted her head. “Hmm, is it more fun than playing tag?”

I paused for a moment, thinking. “Maybe… for me,” I said, shrugging.

Rikka’s eyebrows shot up, and she scrunched her nose in mock disapproval. “Hmm, sounds boring, playing all by yourself,” she said. Then, before I could say anything, she smiled brightly and grabbed my wrist. “Come on! Let’s play tag with them!” she said cheerfully.

“W-wait—!” I barely had time to react as she yanked me up and started running, dragging me

along with her toward the playground.

The world around me seemed to blur, the sound of my game console falling to the ground behind me a distant thought. I was completely out of my element, my heart racing not just from running, but from the sheer shock of what was happening.

And just like that, my life changed.

I don’t remember much about that first game of tag—mostly because I spent the entire time

trying not to trip over my own feet. But what I do remember is Rikka’s laughter, her unrelenting energy, and how she never let go of my hand the whole time we played. Even though we were surrounded by other kids, it felt like she had decided, in that moment, that I was going to be a part of her world.

For someone like me, who was used to being invisible, Rikka’s attention felt like a whirlwind. She didn’t seem to care that I was quiet or shy. She didn’t mind that I wasn’t as fast or athletic as the others. For some reason, she had chosen me, and once she decided something, there was no escaping it.

That was the beginning of our strange, unexpected friendship. From that day forward, Rikka would always seek me out, pulling me into whatever game or adventure she had in mind.

Sometimes it was exhausting, being dragged along into her chaotic world. But little by little, I

began to realize… maybe being alone wasn’t the only way to live.

As the days turned into weeks and months, Rikka became a constant presence in my life. She was loud, boisterous, and everything I wasn’t. But somehow, she filled the quiet spaces around me, bringing color to the parts of my life I hadn’t even realized were gray.

Looking back now, I realize that was the moment everything began to change. I didn’t know it then, but that single afternoon, when Rikka grabbed my hand and dragged me into her world of laughter and games, was the start of something that would shape my entire life.

We were always looking for each other. Since we were in the same grade, we naturally ended up in a lot of the same classes. Whether it was working on projects or just sitting next to each other during boring lessons, it felt like we were inseparable. She would often tease me about

how I was the "smart one," always keeping my notes organized and finishing my assignments early. I never really thought much of it, but for Rikka, it was a convenient excuse.

“Well, not really,” I thought with a sigh, “Rikka always copied mine.”

She would always show up at my desk right before the bell rang, clutching her notebook with that innocent grin of hers, and ask me if she could "borrow" my notes for just a second. Of course, I’d roll my eyes and let her, knowing full well she’d probably be copying it all. Her handwriting was always messier than mine, but I didn’t mind. It had become part of our routine.

But it wasn’t just academics. Rikka had this habit of being there whenever I found myself in trouble. It was as if she had a sixth sense for when I was overwhelmed or on the verge of breaking down. No matter what was happening, she was always by my side. Sometimes, she’d pull me away for one of her "adventures," convincing me to take a break from the stresses of school or life.

Other times, she’d just sit next to me, not saying a word, and her presence alone was enough to calm me down. She had this way of making everything seem less overwhelming, as if whatever I was going through wasn’t so bad because she was there.

I remember one particular day in middle school. I had a fight with one of the boys in class, and he shoved me to the ground in front of everyone. It was humiliating. I could feel my face turning red as I tried to hold back tears, my palms scraped and stinging from hitting the pavement.

Before I could react, Rikka was there, standing between me and the boy who pushed me. Her stance was firm, her eyes fierce. She was smaller than the boy, but you wouldn't have known it from the way she held her ground.

"Hey, back off!" she snapped, her voice full of authority. "If you’ve got a problem, you can take

it up with me!"

I’ll never forget the look on the boy’s face—he was so taken aback that Rikka would step in like that. He stammered some excuse before backing away, clearly not wanting to mess with her.

When he was gone, Rikka turned to me, offering her hand with that familiar grin. "Come on, no need to let a loser like that get to you."

I took her hand, my face still burning with embarrassment, but a part of me was grateful. She never made a big deal out of it. She just helped me up, dusted me off, and pretended like it was no big deal. But to me, it was.

Rikka was always like that—unwavering, fearless, and always ready to protect me, even when I

felt like I didn’t deserve it.

It was then, somewhere between the laughter, the teasing, and the quiet moments when Rikka stood by my side, that I realized I had feelings for her.

At first, I didn’t understand it. Rikka was just… Rikka. My best friend. The person who could make the world seem less heavy, who always knew how to cheer me up or pull me into her whirlwind of energy when I felt like hiding away. She was the one who stood up for me when I couldn’t stand up for myself, who never judged me for being quieter, more withdrawn.

But one day, as we sat together after school, sharing a snack and going over notes for an upcoming test, something changed. I glanced at her, laughing at something ridiculous, her eyes sparkling with that carefree energy that seemed to follow her everywhere, and I felt something stir inside me. It wasn’t the usual comfort of being around her. It was… something more.

My heart skipped a beat, and I found myself staring at her longer than I usually did.

Was it her smile? The way her nose crinkled when she was amused? Or the way she always knew exactly what to say when I was down? Whatever it was, it hit me like a wave I wasn’t prepared for.

I tried to shake it off at first. This is Rikka, I reminded myself. We’re friends. But no matter how much I tried to ignore it, the feelings only grew stronger.

There were little moments where it would sneak up on me—like when she’d playfully ruffle my

hair after we aced a test or when she'd drag me out to the park, insisting I take a break from

studying. Or how, on those rare quiet days, we’d sit in silence together, just enjoying each

other’s company. Those moments made me feel... something I couldn’t put into words.

It wasn’t until one evening, as we were walking home together after a long day of school, that it

truly hit me.

We were talking about our futures, about where we’d go after high school. Rikka was full of dreams, as always, imagining all the things she’d do—travel the world, play sports, and maybe even open a café one day. She looked up at the sky, her eyes filled with that endless hope she always had.

"I wonder what life will be like," she said, her voice soft for once, the usual energy fading into something almost wistful.

I was quiet, watching her. In that moment, I realized that I didn’t care what life would be like, as long as Rikka was there. It didn’t matter what the future held, because the one thing I wanted—

really wanted—was to be by her side. I wanted to protect her the way she protected me, to be the person she could rely on like she had always been for me

That’s when I knew.

I had fallen for her.

But at the same time, a part of me was afraid. I didn’t know what would happen if I told her. Would it ruin everything? Would she feel the same? Or would I just be another guy in a long line of people drawn to her magnetic charm? I didn’t want to lose her—not as a friend, not as anything.

So I kept it to myself, pushing those feelings down, pretending everything was normal. But deep inside, I knew that from that moment on, things were different. Even if Rikka never knew, I had already fallen for her, and there was no going back.

Things got complicated in high school.

Rikka changed. She wasn’t the same tomboyish, carefree girl who’d drag me to play tag with the other kids or who’d laugh at my jokes without a second thought. No, she became more... girly, more stylish. She started wearing makeup, dressing in clothes that showed off just how pretty she had become. Her wild adventures toned down, replaced by gossip sessions with other girls or hanging out with boys who obviously had a crush on her.

And I couldn’t blame them. Rikka had always been popular, but now, she was downright magnetic. A lot of the guys in my year had crushes on her—some openly confessed it, others just admired her from afar. She had this charm that pulled people in, made her the center of attention without even trying.

And here I was, still the same old me. Just an ordinary-looking guy with no standout traits or

redeeming qualities. I hadn’t changed much, at least not in the ways that counted. I didn’t have a killer smile or athletic skills. I wasn’t funny enough to make the whole class laugh or confident enough to lead a conversation.

I started feeling like we were growing apart. We still hung out, sure, but it wasn’t the same. Not as often as we used to back in elementary school, when it was just the two of us against the world. Now it was different—there were other people, other distractions. Sometimes, when I’d wait for her after class, she’d already be gone, off with her new friends. And that worried me.

Our houses were still nearby, so we often walked home together. That, at least, hadn’t changed. But even those walks weren’t as frequent anymore. Sometimes, she’d choose to walk with her friends instead, leaving me behind with a half-hearted wave and a "See you later."

Those moments, when I watched her walk away, laughing with her new friends, made me realize how much things had shifted between us. We were still close, but there was a growing distance I couldn’t ignore. I wasn’t a part of her world the way I used to be.

And it scared me.

I didn’t know how to close that gap, didn’t know how to get back to the way things were. I missed the old Rikka, the one who wasn’t afraid to be goofy, the one who would sneak into the library with me to play games instead of hanging out with the "cool" crowd.

Maybe it was selfish of me to wish things could go back to how they used to be. People change—I knew that. But still, a part of me longed for the simpler days, when it was just us.

It always puzzled me why Rikka constantly turned down the boys who bravely confessed their feelings to her. She had no shortage of admirers—guys from our grade, even older students, all hoping for a chance. And every time, without fail, she’d smile and politely say no.

I never asked her directly why she stayed single. Part of me didn’t want to know, afraid it might sound creepy or worse—like I was probing because of my own feelings. The feelings I had tried so hard to bury deep down. So, I just stayed quiet and watched from afar, confused and curious.

Then, one afternoon, something happened that shattered any hope I was holding on to.

I was walking through the school corridor, heading back to the classroom to fetch my forgotten notebook when I heard Rikka's familiar laugh. Her group of friends stood gathered around near the windows, chatting and giggling like they always did. I slowed down, pretending to fiddle with my phone, curiosity getting the best of me. I hid beside the door. I wasn’t eavesdropping—not intentionally, at least—but when I heard Rikka’s name pop up, my focus shifted entirely.

“Hey, Rikka,” one of her friends teased. “What’s your type? You’ve been turning down all these guys. You must have some high standards or something!”

I could feel my chest tighten, and even though I should’ve kept walking, I found myself stopping, glued to the spot. My fingers aimlessly swiped across the screen of my phone, trying to act casual as I listened in.

Rikka’s voice came through, thoughtful and a little playful. “Hmm... my type?” “Yeah, what’s your preference in a guy?” another friend chimed in.

There was a short pause before she answered, “I guess... I like someone cute. Stylish, maybe. Someone who’s easy-going, not too serious all the time. Oh, and definitely not lonely. You know, someone who’s got friends and knows how to have fun.”

I felt something sink deep inside me, like a weight in my stomach. The words hit harder than I expected, and I just stood there, frozen. My heart pounded in my chest, the kind of heavy thud you feel when something you feared becomes a reality.

Her words replayed in my head, each one driving home the realization I had tried to ignore for too long.

Cute? Stylish? Easy-going?

I wasn’t cute. Not in the way other guys were. I wasn’t stylish—my wardrobe was basic at best, functional, but nothing special. I was serious most of the time, preferring to lose myself in books or games rather than big social gatherings. I was the opposite of easy-going, often getting anxious or nervous in large crowds.

And friends?

I barely had any. I liked being alone most of the time. It wasn’t that I hated people; I just found peace in solitude. But now, it felt like a glaring flaw, something that marked me as unworthy in her eyes.

Rikka’s preferences were the polar opposite of me. I wasn’t the guy she wanted. Not even close.

Then I heard the conversation again—sharp, casual, and too close for comfort.

"What about the boy you’re so close to in elementary school? Are you dating him?" one of the girls asked.

I froze. My breath caught in my throat.

Rikka laughed—light, dismissive—and waved her hand as if the idea was absurd. "No, we’re not like that."

The laughter stabbed deeper than I expected. I could picture her face, her smile, the way she always shrugged things off so easily.

"But you like him?" another girl asked, the question playful but loaded.

There was a pause. Just a second. But it was long enough.

Rikka hesitated to reply. Her tone changed slightly. "Ugh, not like that."

And that hesitation… that tiny moment… felt like everything.

"Makes sense," the girl continued, her voice full of venomous amusement. "He is creepy and he looks so lonely. You’re not a match!"

More laughter. Cruel this time.

The words cut through me like glass. My chest felt tight, my limbs cold. That phrase—he looks so lonely—hit deeper than anything else. Because it was true. Because I was lonely. And now, the one person I thought saw through that… was laughing with the rest.

It broke my heart in a way I hadn’t expected. I had never really thought about the possibility of

being with her—at least, not seriously. I wasn’t bold enough to hope for something like that. But hearing her say it, hearing the gap between us so plainly... it hurt more than I could put into words.

I glanced up from my phone, seeing her smile as her friends giggled and nudged her playfully. She didn’t even know what she had done—how her casual answer had unknowingly shattered the quiet hope I had been holding onto for so long.

I hesitated to go inside, my hand hovering just above the doorframe. My chest felt tight, my fingers cold and slightly trembling. I could hear the low hum of voices inside, bits of laughter that stung more than they should have. For a moment, I considered turning back—but I breathed deep, trying to steady the storm swirling in my gut, and steeled myself.

Then I entered the classroom.

The air inside felt heavier than usual, like the walls themselves knew I didn’t belong. I kept my head down and walked quickly to my desk, each step feeling louder than the last, as if the floor creaked louder just to betray me. I proceeded to my desk and fetched my notebook with stiff, hurried movements, trying not to let my hands shake too visibly.

I glanced at them—just for a second. But that was enough.

I saw their eyes widen slightly, the subtle shifts in posture, the brief silence. I knew the fact that they were surprised by my sudden appearance. That I had been listening. That I heard. The tension in the room was thick, and though no one said a word, I could feel it—all of it pressing down on me.

I hurriedly exited the room, clutching the notebook to my chest like a shield. My heart hammered in my chest, faster now, echoing in my ears.

As soon as I stepped outside the room, I quickly ran—feet pounding against the tiled floor, the corridor blurring around me—before anyone could stop me, before anyone could call out. I didn’t care where I was going. I just needed to get away.

The library didn’t seem appealing anymore, and neither did anything else for the rest of that day. Not the books, not the games, not the comfort of routine. Everything felt dull, distant—like the color had drained out of the world and left only the echo of their laughter behind.

The realization was like a wall between us, a wall I didn’t know how to tear down. I continued being by her side, knowing full well she would never fall for a guy like me. Every time I saw her talking to other guys, laughing and smiling with them, it felt like something inside me was tearing apart piece by piece. I tried to act normal, but there were moments when the pain was so overwhelming that I wished I could just disappear, fade away into the background where I belonged.

Several days passed. None of us ever talked—not that it was unusual. It wasn't like we were ever close lately. In fact, ever since high school started, we never talked that much. The connection we had in elementary school had slowly faded, like colors bleeding out of an old photograph.

But still… the silence this time felt different. Heavier. Like something unspoken was hanging in the air between us, waiting to be acknowledged.

Then, one day—out of nowhere—Rikka came up to me. She looked hesitant, like the words were weighing on her shoulders. Maybe the tension had finally gotten to her too.

"Hey, do you have a moment?" she asked.

I looked up at her. Her eyes didn’t meet mine right away. There was a nervous energy in her voice, like she was testing the waters.

"Yeah, what’s up?" I said, keeping my tone as neutral as I could.

I had spent a lot of time thinking about that afternoon—the things they said. Every word echoed over and over in my mind like a loop I couldn’t shut off. But after all the overthinking, I came to a decision: I’d pretend I didn’t hear any of it. If that made things easier—for her, for me—then so be it.

It was lunch break, so it wasn’t strange for us to leave the building. I followed her through the quiet halls, then out into the open. The sun was soft, filtered through scattered clouds, and a faint breeze carried the scent of grass and concrete warmed by the sun. We walked in silence until she stopped under a tree in the courtyard, its branches casting a dappled shade over us.

She turned to face me, her expression unreadable. A mix of concern and hesitation.

"Did you… hear us talking?"

I blinked. "Huh?" I tilted my head slightly and gave her the most confused look I could manage, acting like I had no idea what she meant.

She looked a little more tense now, but kept going.

"The other day, when you entered that classroom in the afternoon," she said carefully, watching my face for any sign.

I shrugged lightly. "I was wearing my earphones, so no. Should I be concerned about it?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.

I saw it, the shift in her expression. A quiet breath she didn’t realize she was holding eased out of her, and her shoulders relaxed just a little. Relief.

She smiled, though it was small and slightly awkward. "No, it was just… girl talk. It would’ve been embarrassing if you heard it."

"Ah. okay."

And that was it.

She seemed satisfied with the answer, as if it smoothed over whatever weight had been pressing on her. The conversation ended there, and we both drifted back to the rhythm of our day.

The following days were back to normal—for her, at least.

But for me, even the silence now had a voice.

As stubborn as I could be, and despite the pain I carried like a quiet bruise beneath my skin, I couldn’t stay away. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how many times I told myself to let go—to stop caring, stop hoping—I kept finding myself drawn back to her presence. It wasn’t about clinging to some impossible fantasy anymore. I knew better. I had already accepted, deep down, that I could never have her in the way I once dreamed of.

But still...

Even if it meant standing on the edges of her world, I wanted to be near her.

There was a strange kind of peace in that decision—bitter and comforting all at once. I stopped chasing after an answer, stopped asking myself why not me? Instead, I chose to simply exist alongside her, quietly and respectfully, hoping that somehow my silent loyalty might mean something, even if it never changed anything.

And maybe, in doing that, I began to change.

Little by little, without even realizing it, I started to shift. I began fixing the parts of myself I had neglected. I worked on the things I had once thought didn’t matter—my posture, my appearance, even the way I spoke to people. I tried harder to smile more, to open up, to say yes to things I used to avoid. Not for her. Not entirely.

But because I didn’t want to feel invisible anymore.

At first, the effort felt foreign, like wearing clothes that didn’t quite fit. But slowly, the changes stopped feeling forced. They became mine. I found confidence in small victories—answering questions in class, joining group projects, even speaking to people outside my comfort zone. I stopped hiding behind earphones and books every second of the day and started noticing the world beyond my own little bubble.

Somewhere along the way, I met people who shared my hobbies—anime, games, quiet weekend hangouts instead of loud parties. We laughed about things only we understood. They accepted my quirks without asking me to change. With them, I didn’t have to pretend to be someone I wasn’t. For the first time in a long while, I felt seen.

And strangely, even with everything that had happened—with all the pain and the unspoken words—I found myself enjoying school. It wasn’t the flawless, joyful experience you see in movies. It was messy, awkward, and at times lonely. But it was real. It was mine.

The school years passed faster than I expected. I had always imagined I’d count down the days until graduation, waiting for everything to finally be over. But instead, when the end finally came into view, a part of me hesitated.

Because despite the heartache, despite the distance between what I wanted and what I had—

There was something beautiful about growing up next to her, and finding my own way in the process.

Then one day, I overheard her talking to her friends about the university she wanted to attend. She spoke passionately about becoming a teacher, something I hadn’t known before. And I made a decision. I wanted to stay close to her, no matter what. So, I secretly took the entrance exam for the same university. I worked harder than I ever had in my life. Coincidentally, the university offered a course in engineering that I was interested in. It felt like fate—a sign that maybe I was supposed to follow her.

I passed. Somehow, I made it through.

Even though I wasn’t her ideal type, I couldn’t leave high school without telling her how I felt. I

had to confess, even if I knew there was little hope.

At the end of the school festival, students were allowed to stay late, until 10 p.m. I used the opportunity to ask her to meet me on the rooftop of the school building. My heart was pounding in my chest the whole time, a mixture of fear and anticipation coursing through me.

As we stood on the roof, the night sky above us and the faint sounds of the festival lingering in the distance, I swallowed my fear and spoke.

"So, Rikka," I began, my voice shaky, "we’ve been together for a long time..."

She was staring down at the ground, her hands resting on the cold metal railing. The wind picked up, blowing her hair gently. She turned to face me, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. Her expression was soft, unreadable.

"Hmm?" she hummed, giving me a nod, waiting for me to continue.

My throat felt dry, my heart racing so fast it felt like it might burst. I forced the words out before I could lose my nerve. "I—I just wanted to say that... uh... that I’ve had feelings for you for a long time! I love you!"

There. I said it. It was out in the open, and there was no taking it back.

For a moment, there was silence. I held my breath, afraid of what she might say. Then, to my surprise, she smiled at me. A real smile, the kind that made my heart ache with hope.

“That took you a long time,” she said softly, almost teasing.

My heart soared for a second, hope blooming inside me. Maybe... just maybe...

“Huh?” I asked, confused but suddenly more optimistic.

She smiled again, but this time it was different—bittersweet. “What I mean is... I love you too.”

I could have exploded with happiness right then and there. The words I had dreamed of hearing for so long had finally been spoken. I was smiling like an idiot, overjoyed.

But then came the pause—the silence that told me something else was coming. And just like that, she dropped the bomb on me.

"But... I can’t date you. Not right now, I mean."

I blinked, my smile fading a little as I tried to process what she had just said.

She continued, her expression turning serious. “You know we’re not wealthy. I need to focus on my scholarship, on getting into university. If I mess up, my family won’t be able to support me. I just can’t afford to lose focus right now. But... if you can wait until I graduate, I’ll date you. I promise.”

It was like a roller coaster of emotions inside me. On one hand, she had just told me she loved me—that was more than I had ever hoped for. But on the other hand, she was asking me to wait. Four more years, at least. Four long years of uncertainty of not knowing if her feelings would change, or if someone else might come into her life during that time.

I didn’t know how to feel. Should I be happy? Should I be scared? Was it even fair for me to ask

her to promise something like that?

But then I remembered how long I had already waited. I had loved her silently for years, staying by her side without ever confessing. What was four more years compared to that? If there was even a small chance, I had to take it.

So, I steeled myself, forcing down my worries, and nodded.

"Yes," I said firmly. "I’ll wait for you. No matter how long it takes."

As I said those words, I wasn’t sure if I was sealing my future or setting myself up for more heartache. But at that moment, all that mattered was that she loved me too, even if I had to wait to make that love real.

And I was willing to wait.

We graduated from high school without a hitch. No major problems, no more lingering doubts—just the anticipation of what lay ahead. Both of us had passed our university entrance exams, and the future seemed wide open. But something in me shifted as soon as we got accepted.

I wanted to change. I wanted to become someone worthy of Rikka, someone who could finally match her ideals. I knew what she liked—cute, stylish, easygoing, and sociable. I wasn’t any of those things, but I could be. At least, that’s what I told myself.

So before classes started, while Rikka was back in her province for the summer, I began to transform. It was only three months, but I worked harder on myself than I ever had before. I studied fashion, learning how to pick clothes that would make me look cool, not just ordinary. I dyed my hair, trying to give myself a more stylish, laid-back appearance. I got a new haircut that framed my face better. I even hit the gym, determined to bulk up a bit, to stand straighter and look more confident.

More than that, I worked on my personality. I practiced speaking, trying to sound more outgoing and less awkward. I told myself I could make friends, that I could be friendly, even if it didn’t come naturally to me. All I wanted was to be someone she could be proud to be around.

And so, by the time the summer was over, I was a different person—or at least, that’s what I

wanted to believe.

When the first day of university rolled around, I was both excited and nervous to see Rikka again. I hadn’t told her about the changes I’d made. Part of me wanted to surprise her. Another part of me wondered if she’d even notice.

As soon as we saw each other on campus, I could tell she was shocked. Her eyes widened as she took in my new appearance—the dyed hair, the cool clothes, the new posture. I had become

someone she didn’t quite recognize at first, but I saw a glimmer of approval in her eyes. It was

like I had finally closed the gap, finally become someone worthy of standing beside her. "Wow," she said, a little breathless. "You've really... changed."

I smiled awkwardly, scratching the back of my head. "Yeah, I guess I have. Thought it was time to try something new."

She smiled back, but there was something different in her expression—something I couldn’t

quite read. Still, I felt like it was a good start.

Classes started, and with my newfound confidence, I found myself making friends more easily. People started to notice me in ways they hadn’t before. I wasn’t just the quiet guy in the background anymore—I was someone people actually wanted to talk to. Before I knew it, I had a small group of friends, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged.

I even became a little popular, something I never thought would happen. I was no longer just Rikka’s quiet childhood friend. I was someone people wanted to hang out with, someone people actually liked. It felt strange, but also... good.

But despite all the changes I made, there was still something I couldn’t shake. A small part of me wondered if I had changed too much. Was this really who I was, or was it just who I thought I needed to be? And as much as I tried to be Rikka’s ideal, there was still a lingering fear that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t enough.

I had transformed, but deep down, I wasn’t sure if that transformation was real—or if it would be enough to keep Rikka close to me.

This is where I started to stray from the path I initially wanted to follow—the path to become

Rikka’s ideal man.

At first, it was innocent enough. My social circle grew quickly. I made friends in almost every department, and it felt good—being noticed, being liked. The once-quiet, introverted guy had become someone people wanted to be around. I started getting invited to parties more often, and soon, I found myself drinking hard liquor, something I’d never touched before.

What began as an occasional night out turned into a frequent occurrence. My nights were spent at parties, surrounded by loud music and people I barely knew. The alcohol flowed freely, and I got caught up in it all. I told myself it was all part of becoming the person Rikka might find attractive—someone social, outgoing, someone who fit the mold of her ideal type. But somewhere along the way, I lost sight of who I was.

It became less about Rikka and more about this new lifestyle I was absorbed in. I was no longer the quiet guy who loved books and games. Instead, I was the guy who stayed out late, drank too much, and got involved in things I never imagined I would.

The shift was subtle at first, but looking back now, I realize that was the beginning of my downward spiral—the moment I started losing myself, trying to be someone I thought I had to be.

This one night, several departments organized a big party. There were people I knew and some I didn’t. It was a mixed crowd, with some chugging hard liquor, others just eating and chatting, music blasting in the background. I was a bit drunk myself, the alcohol warming my system and clouding my judgment.

At the end of the party, as I was scanning the room, I noticed a familiar figure from across the room. Rikka. She was standing near the entrance with a few girls, casually talking, looking as radiant as ever. My heart skipped a beat, and without thinking, I rushed towards her.

“Hey, Rikka! How are you doing?” I asked, trying to sound casual, though the alcohol made me

a little bolder than usual.

She turned, surprised to see me, but smiled softly. “Hmm, just okay. You know, focusing on my studies. What about you?”

“Me? Just... getting by,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “Oh, and don’t worry, I’m not failing any subjects if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She chuckled lightly, that familiar sound bringing back memories of simpler times. “Well, that’s good to hear.”

We exchanged small talk for a bit, but then she glanced at her watch and said, “We’re heading home now.”

I felt a sense of panic rise inside me, not wanting the conversation to end so soon. “Oh... do you want me to take you home?” I asked, half-hoping she’d say yes.

Before she could answer, I heard a yell from behind me. “Hey! C’mon!” It was my friends,

already piling into the car. I turned briefly to see them gesturing for me to hurry up.

Rikka smiled politely and shook her head. “Your friends are waiting for you. It’s fine, I’ll be heading home with my friends.”

"Okay, take care. See you later," I said, trying to sound casual, though something gnawed at me. As I stepped into the back passenger seat of the car, I glanced at Rikka one last time. She waved, and I found myself waving back, but my mind was elsewhere.

Is this right? I wondered as the door clicked shut. Should I have stayed with her instead?

There were five of us packed inside the sedan, even though it was meant for four. I was crammed in the back corner, squeezed against the window. My senior was behind the wheel, with his girlfriend in the passenger seat beside him. The other two in the back were a classmate from some of my subjects and a friend of my senior whom I'd just met at the party.