Chapter 3 – The Day I Died (Socially)

There are bad Mondays.
And then there are “the-whole-school-thinks-you’re-dating-Akiyama-Yui” Mondays.

I’d take a pop quiz over this any day.

The moment I stepped onto campus, people were already whispering like they’d been waiting for me.
“Is that him?”
“Wait, the quiet guy?”
“I swear someone saw her at his apartment yesterday.”

Congratulations, humanity. You’ve achieved a new record for spreading rumors.

I tried pretending not to notice, but it’s hard when everyone suddenly parts as you walk through like you’re some sort of VIP exhibit.

That’s when Itsuki appeared beside me, sipping from a juice box with the face of a man who had front-row tickets to a scandal.
“Morning, celebrity. Big fan. Can I get an autograph before you forget us commoners?”

“I’ll autograph your face,” I muttered.

He grinned. “So it’s true then? You and Yui?”

“I don’t even know what "it" is.”

He squinted. “You’re not denying it.”

“I’m not confirming it either.”

“So you’re saying there’s a chance.”

“Stop talking.”

Too late. The hallway went quiet again.
And there she was.

Akiyama Yui.

Perfect hair. Perfect uniform. The kind of presence that made everyone straighten their backs without realizing.

The second she appeared, people swarmed her.

“Yui-chan, your ponytail looks amazing today!”
“Yui-senpai, could you check my homework again?”
“Can you recommend a new lipstick shade?”

She smiled, answering everyone calmly and politely. The crowd practically revolved around her.

Meanwhile, I was standing there like background furniture.

Then she looked up. Her eyes scanned the crowd and stopped—on me.

And she waved.

The crowd turned.
At me.

I considered running.

Itsuki let out a low whistle. “Wow. She waved at you in public. That’s basically a confession.”

“That’s basically my funeral.”

By the time I reached class, everyone was still buzzing.

“Is it true?”
“Maybe he saved her cat or something!”
“Do you think they kissed?”

Why did teenagers have so much time for this?

I slid into my seat, pulled out my notebook, and tried to look as boring as possible. Yui came in a minute later, still surrounded by people. Her every step was followed by a chorus of compliments. She nodded politely, offered her trademark smile, then took her seat with all the calm of a princess used to the chaos.

The chatter was unbearable.

Then the door opened again.

Our homeroom teacher, Mr. Kanda, walked in, convenience store coffee cup in one hand and soul long gone.
“What’s with all the noise?”

Someone... traitor of the century shouted, “Sensei! Takeda’s dating Akiyama-san!”

The whole room went silent.

Mr. Kanda took a slow sip from his cup and raised an eyebrow at me.
“…Didn’t think you had it in you, Takeda.”

“Sensei, that’s not—”

“Relax,” he said, smirking. “Young love is powerful. Just keep it out of my attendance sheet.”

The class exploded in laughter.

I wished for some kind of divine intervention.

Yui, naturally, looked completely composed, pen tapping lightly against her notebook as if none of this concerned her.

Fifteen minutes later, while I was still plotting my escape from society, a folded note slid onto my desk.

I looked around—Yui was writing something, eyes on her book.

I opened the note.

Don’t buy lunch today.

That was it.
Short. Commanding. And absolutely terrifying.

If she ever said she's from a mafia family, I’d believe it.

Lunch came around.
I sat with Itsuki at our usual table, glaring at the empty space in front of me.

“I’m not even allowed to eat,” I muttered.

Itsuki raised an eyebrow. “Ah, so it’s begun.”

“What’s begun?”

“The queen’s reign. You’re her subject now.”

“Stop making it sound like I’m part of a feudal system.”

He grinned. “Face it. You follow her orders. It’s basically marriage.”

I opened my mouth to argue but then the cafeteria went quiet.

Yui had entered.

And once again, the crowd reacted instantly. Every group, every table turned. Conversations stopped mid-sentence as if someone hit pause on the whole cafeteria.

Yui greeted a few classmates with her polite smile, that calm, untouchable kind of grace she always carried, then... probably because the universe hates me walked straight toward our table.

“She’s coming here,” Itsuki whispered dramatically, clutching his juice box like a relic. “To our table. The queen descends among peasants.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

Yui stopped in front of me, holding a small, neatly wrapped lunch box. The pink ribbon on top matched the faint blush on her cheeks.
“Sorry I’m late. Are you hungry?” she asked, placing it down carefully in front of me.

I blinked. “You... made this?”

Her expression stayed calm, though her eyes flicked away for half a second. “You’ve been eating instant noodles too much. I could tell.”

“Wha—how—”

“Your room smells like seasoning,” she said matter-of-factly.

I had nothing to say to that. Because she was right. And because Itsuki was already grinning like a man witnessing history.

“Rina would faint if she heard this,” he said, shaking his head.

“Rina?” Yui asked, tilting her head.

“Yeah, our friend,” Itsuki said. “Sweet, timid, probably screams if someone sneezes too loud. If she saw this—” He gestured between us, “—she’d combust.”

Yui smiled. “I’d like to meet her sometime.”

“I’ll bring earplugs,” I muttered.

Itsuki laughed. “Man, this is the best entertainment I’ve had in weeks.”

“Glad my suffering amuses you,” I said.

“It really does,” he replied without hesitation.

Yui giggled softly, then turned to me again. “Eat before it gets cold.”

I sighed but obeyed. I picked up the chopsticks and took a bite.

And instantly froze.

It was good. The rice was perfectly seasoned, the eggs fluffy, and the chicken tasted like something you’d actually pay money for. I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned.

“You sure you didn’t buy this?” I asked.

Yui gave me a look sharp enough to stop my heart.

“Right,” I said quickly. “Definitely homemade. Probably made with care and... terrifying precision.”

Her eyes softened. “Do you like it?”

I hesitated. “Yeah. It’s... amazing.”

“Just amazing?”

“I mean—it’s dangerously good. Like, I’d sell my dignity for another bite good.”

She laughed quietly. “Then maybe I’ll pack more next time.”

Itsuki leaned on the table, sighing dramatically. “Unbelievable. The school idol, personally feeding this guy? The rest of us don’t stand a chance.”

“I’m not feeding him,” Yui said quickly, cheeks pink again. “He’s just... eating.”

“Sure, sure. Totally platonic chewing.”

I groaned. “Itsuki, please stop existing.”

He grinned wider. “Not when I'm experiencing the highlight of my semester.”

Yui tried to look composed but the corners of her mouth twitched. For a moment, she wasn’t the perfect, untouchable Akiyama Yui everyone admired. She was just... Yui. Teasing me. Laughing a little too easily.

And I hated how heartwarming it made me felt.

The hallway was almost empty by the time we left. Afternoon light spilled through the windows, painting everything gold and lazy.

Yui walked beside me, quiet for once which was, frankly, suspicious. Usually, silence meant she was planning something.

“So,” I said, “no more pop quizzes or ‘relationship drills’ today, right?”

She didn’t answer. Just a small hum, thoughtful.

That’s never a good sign.

We reached the shoe lockers before she finally turned to me, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Haruto.”

The way she said my name made me blink.
Serious. Careful. Like she’d practiced it in her head first.

“Uh, yeah?”

She hesitated, then sighed softly the kind of sigh that usually means a headache.
“My father wants to meet you.”

I froze mid-step. “...Come again?”

“He’s been asking about you ever since the engagement talk started,” she said, eyes avoiding mine. “I told him I’m already seeing someone, so naturally, he wants to confirm it himself.”

“That’s... great,” I said weakly. “And by ‘confirm,’ you mean—”

“Meet you,” she said simply. “He’s away on a business trip, but he’ll be back at the end of the month.”

I blinked at her, trying to process that bombshell. “Right. So no pressure.”

“Exactly,” she said. Then, with a small shrug: “That’s why we need to look convincing.”

There it was the ominous phrase.

“So...” she continued, looking at her phone, “we should probably practice. Maybe this Friday?”

“Practice?” I repeated.

“A date,” she clarified quickly. “For realism.”

“Realism, huh.”

Her cheeks were faintly pink now, and she refused to look up. “Don’t get the wrong idea. It’s just—if we don’t act natural, he’ll notice.”

“Sure,” I said, a grin creeping in. “We’ll call it a rehearsal, then.”

She finally looked at me, trying to keep her composure, but the small twitch at the corner of her mouth gave her away. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely.”

Yui rolled her eyes and started walking ahead, ponytail swaying. “Friday. After class. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And don’t wear anything ridiculous.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Define ridiculous.”

“Whatever you normally wear.”

“Wow,” I said dryly. “Romantic already.”

She glanced back once, her expression caught somewhere between angry and amused. “Just... be there, Haruto.”

Then she turned away before I could say anything else, but I swear her ears were pretty much tomato all the way to the tips.