The campfire crackled.
The stars twinkled.
Kokoro glared at a flower like it had insulted her bloodline.
"You're doing that thing again," I said.
"What thing."
"That anime protagonist thing where you stare dramatically into nature."
She didn't blink. "I'm calculating the angle of emotional sabotage."
"Of the flower?"
"Of you."
We were walking back to camp after dinner.
I had made the mistake of complimenting Kokoro's ponytail.
Just once.
I had said:
"Hey. That style suits you. You look... cool."
A normal compliment. Harmless. Friendly.
She immediately stopped walking, stared into space, and whispered:
"Delete.exe has failed to run. Rebooting emotional core."
Then she walked off muttering system error codes.
"Okay," I said, catching up to her. "You're clearly malfunctioning."
"I am not," she lied, voice robotic. "I am perfectly balanced."
"You're short-circuiting over a hair comment."
"You weaponized softness," she hissed. "Emotional terrorism."
"It was a compliment!"
"Compliments are the gateway drug to doomed arcs!"
Meanwhile, Aya watched us from behind a tree like a giddy love scientist.
She pulled out a notebook titled:
"Operation: Accidentally Make Kazuki Date Everyone Without Realizing."
Inside were bullet points like:
"Compliment Kokoro → short circuit"
"Poke Kazuki's cheek → confused inner monologue"
"Say 'I'm proud of you' → full reset"
She underlined that last one twice.
Later, at the lake, I found Sensei building what looked like a DIY love confession stage.
With string lights.
In the woods.
At 10 PM.
"...what is this?"
She turned, casually holding a hammer and what might have been a fog machine.
"Oh, just some light narrative facilitation."
"I'M NOT READY FOR THIS ARC."
"Kazuki," she said gently. "You're always saying that."
"BECAUSE IT'S ALWAYS TRUE."
She patted my head.
And left me emotionally violated and covered in glitter.
I tried to go back to my tent.
Didn't make it.
Kokoro was sitting right outside it like a haunted shrine maiden.
"I have something to say," she said flatly.
I froze.
Here it was.
The moment.
A confession?
A confrontation?
A declaration of war?
She looked me dead in the eyes and said:
"Please stop saying nice things to me."
"…What?"
"I have built my entire survival system around you being emotionally dense."
"...I am emotionally dense."
She narrowed her eyes.
"You're getting less dense."
"I'm literally trying to not ruin anything!"
She poked my chest.
"Too late. You already triggered the pre-confession narrative."
"CAN I UNDO IT?"
"No. The flag has been saved."
Inside the tent, Aya had arranged pillows in a suspiciously heart-shaped formation.
I laid down and stared at the ceiling.
"I think Kokoro's going to kill me with feelings."
Aya smiled. "That's how you know it's working."
"Working?! What's working?!"
She poked my forehead.
"You, growing up. Slowly. Terribly. But it's happening."
"That's not growth. That's psychological erosion."
She tucked the blanket around me.
Then whispered:
"Keep going."
Later that night.
Kokoro sat alone outside the tent.
Scribbling something in her Anti-Romance Binder™.
I peeked out and asked:
"What are you writing?"
She didn't look up.
"Strategies. Precautions. Maybe a confession."
"…What?"
"Nothing."
"Was that a real 'nothing' or a narrative red herring 'nothing'?"
She looked at me.
Eyes slightly soft.
Then said:
"Stop being nice if you're not going to choose."
And for the first time in my life…
I had no sarcastic comeback.
Just silence.
Because she was right.
I went back inside.
Aya was pretending to be asleep.
And I whispered, very softly:
"…What if I do choose?"
And she, without opening her eyes, replied:
"Then please stop stalling. Before the story chooses for you."