It was October.
The air was cool. Leaves crunched beneath my feet. Cultural Festival banners were barely taken down.
And yet—There it was.In big, pink, aggressively sparkly font:
"Valentine's Blitz Event: Who Will Melt Whose Heart?"
I stared at the poster outside the classroom.
And then I stared at the girl taping it up with a stapler gun.
Aya. Wearing cat ears.
Cat ears.
"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"
"Of course," she said sweetly. "The Love Arc Management Committee decided the plot momentum was sagging."
"There shouldn't be a management committee."
She leaned in.
"So, chocolate or humiliation, Haruma?"
"I want neither. I want peace. I want grilled fish and a full night of sleep."
"Wrong answer."
She stapled a flyer directly into my soul.
By lunch, the school was a war zone.
Handmade chocolates exchanged like bribes.
Girls forming alliances.
Boys hiding in bathroom stalls.
Someone was selling "rejection-proof" perfume (it was just Febreze).
And somehow, every girl in my life was acting like it was totally normal.
Exhibit A: Kokoro.
She walked into class with a plain, rectangular box.
Dropped it on my desk.
"Here."
"…What is it?"
"Obviously a cursed object designed to test your emotional capacity."
"…It's chocolate, isn't it?"
"Yes. Shut up and eat it."
I opened it slowly.
It was perfect.
Handmade. No note. But inside the box, there was a tiny, folded line of paper.
I unfolded it.
It said, simply:
"Still chasing."
I forgot how to breathe for about five full seconds.
Exhibit B: Aya.
She didn't give me anything directly.
Instead, she made me sit on the floor while she painted hearts on small cookies.
"I'm not giving you any," she said.
"Then why am I here?"
"To watch me ignore you with increasing fondness."
"You're the worst."
She grinned and flicked frosting on my cheek.
"You're in my heart, Haruma. But I refuse to admit it unless you beg."
"I will literally never beg."
"Mmhm. That's what they all say before Valentine's Night."
I choked on nothing.
Exhibit C: Natsuki-sensei.
Who, for the record, was supposed to be supervising this event.
Instead, she invited me to the empty infirmary after school.
"This is where teachers store their chocolate," she lied, clearly not caring whether I believed her.
I followed.
There was no chocolate.
There was only her, sitting cross-legged on the bed, sipping wine from a juice box.
"You're spiraling," she said bluntly.
"Thank you for noticing."
"I can't tell if you're resisting romantic progress or just terminally dumb."
"Why can't it be both?"
She smiled.
"Take a seat."
I didn't.
But I did lean on the doorframe and ask:
"Why are you helping me?"
She tilted her head.
"Because I've seen what happens when someone like you loses the ability to pretend it's all a joke."
"…And what happens?"
"You become honest."
That shut me up.
Because that's what I feared the most.
Evening.
I returned home with three chocolate boxes in my bag and the emotional weight of a tragic shoujo protagonist.
I opened the door.
Aya was in the living room. In a hoodie.
Watching a bad romcom and crying into a pillow.
She looked up at me.
Smeared mascara. Red nose. A single cookie in her hand.
"…It's not even a good movie," she sniffed.
I sat beside her.
"I know."
We watched in silence.
Then she leaned into me, quietly.
And whispered:
"You have until White Day."
I blinked.
"What happens on White Day?"
She smiled.
"That's when I stop pretending I'm not serious."
And just like that—
My brain began conjuring futures.
Meanwhile…
In her own apartment, Kokoro sat at her desk.
Writing.
No journal. Just a piece of paper she would probably never give me.
On it, she scribbled:
"Valentine's is a trap.But I'd still fall into it for you.Even if you're the idiot who set the trap in the first place."
She folded the paper.
Tucked it under her pillow.
And whispered:
"One more chapter."