I’m Akihiro Tanaka, a 2nd-year student at Hoshikawa High. My defining trait? I’m utterly and completely, average. Average grades, average looks, and average luck. While others are soaking in the spotlight, I’m the guy in the background blending into the classroom walls. And I’m fine with that—or so I’ve convinced myself.
The thing is, my class isn’t exactly normal. Somehow, it’s overflowing with ridiculously cute couples. From the front-row honor student duo to the shy library pairs that read books everyday, my classroom really looks like it's from a romance anime. The sound of confessions and laughter is in the air everyday, making it feel like I’m living in the background of a corny love story. Even our teachers joke about it sometimes, claiming our class is cursed—with the power of love.
My life, however, remains untouched by all this romance. While everyone else seems to be writing their own love stories, I’m the blank chapter, the book without a introduction. And honestly? I prefer it that way. Love’s too complicated, and I’m not interested in the drama. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
But then there’s the story that even I can’t ignore: the kind that you don't want to be involved in but want to watch unfold the battle brewing over our class’s “Prince.” It’s the stuff you’d expect to see in a manga or a TV drama, not real life. Yet here it is, playing out right before my eyes. And while I try to stay in the background, this particular love triangle has a way of pulling everyone into its orbit—even me.
I first noticed it during lunch one day. Kaito Ishikawa—the epitome of perfection in our class—was surrounded by the usual buzz of admiration. His long, slightly brown hair caught the sunlight as he leaned back in his chair, giving a nice kinda smile to a group of classmates. His voice went around the room like a melody, effortlessly drawing everyone’s attention.
Kaito wasn’t just admired; he was adored. From the way everyone clung to his words to how the teachers seemed to trust him with every responsibility, Kaito was the ideal high school prince. The way he effortlessly excelled at everything, from the books to sports, made him the subject of both love and envy. But for me? Kaito was more of a curiosity. I couldn’t help but observe him the way a scientist might observe a rare phenomenon or animal—fascinated but nothing else.
At the same time, I noticed three distinct figures in the room, each looking like they’re plotting their next big move. Reina Shimizu, the queen bee, sat with her chin resting on her manicured fingers. Her eyes sparkled but with a calculated intent like she was planning a big heist. Haruka Aoki, the energetic tomboy, leaned against the windowsill, her arms crossed as she smirked, clearly enjoying the challenge. And then there was Yui Takahashi, the quiet artist in the corner, stealing occasional glances at Kaito while pretending to sketch.
It didn’t take long for me to piece it together. They weren’t just admirers. They were fighting in a silent competition to win over the class prince. And as their schemes unfolded, it was impossible not to get drawn into their battle—even for a self-proclaimed background character like me.
Reina was the first to make a move. One Monday morning, she walked into the classroom carrying a neatly wrapped gift box. Her presence was commanding as she approached Kaito’s desk, her heels clicking against the floor.
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“Kaito-kun, I saw this and thought of you,” she said, her voice smooth and confident. She handed him the box, she gave a big yet controlled smile. “It’s just a little something to celebrate your win in the soccer match last week.”
The classroom fell silent. And even the couples stopped their giggling to watch the scene unfold. Kaito, ever the gentleman, accepted the gift with a smile. “Thank you, Reina. That’s very thoughtful of you.”
As Reina returned to her seat, her head held high, I couldn’t help but notice Haruka watching from across the room, her expression a mix of amusement and determination. During the break, she made her move. With a soccer ball tucked under her arm, she approached Kaito with her usual energetic self.
“Oi, Kaito! Let’s settle who’s the real MVP from last week’s game. One-on-one after school. Loser buys drinks!” she challenged, her grin infectious.
Kaito chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “You’re on, Haruka. But don’t cry when I win.”
Their playful banter drew laughter from the surrounding classmates, and the tension left behind by Reina’s earlier gesture seemed to dissolve. Haruka had a way of making everything feel lighthearted, even in the midst of competition.
Meanwhile, Yui remained in her corner, quietly sketching. She didn’t approach Kaito, nor did she make any grand gestures. But every so often, her eyes would flicker toward him, her pencil pausing mid-stroke. I found myself intrigued by her subtlety. In a room full of bold personalities, Yui’s quiet presence was a mystery.
During lunch, I accidentally caught a glimpse of her sketchpad. It was filled with intricate drawings of our classmates, but the most detailed ones were of Kaito. One, in particular, caught my eye—a portrait of him laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners. The level of detail was astounding, and it was clear she had spent hours perfecting it.
“Is that for the art club competition?” I asked, surprising even myself by speaking up.
Yui looked up, startled. “Oh… um, no. It’s just practice,” she murmured, quickly flipping the page. Her cheeks turned pink as she avoided my gaze.
It was a small moment, but it stayed with me. While Reina and Haruka were loud and obvious in their pursuit of Kaito, Yui’s approach was different. It was quieter, more personal. And somehow, that made it all the more compelling.
As the day went on, I found myself watching the three girls more closely. Each of them had their own unique charm, their own way of trying to win Kaito’s heart. And while I remained firmly in the background, I couldn’t help but feel like I was witnessing something special—like a real-life romance drama going on before my eyes.
By the time the final bell rang, I had a newfound appreciation for my classmates. Sure, I was still the background character in this story, but at least I had a front-row seat to the story. And who knows? Maybe, just maybe, being a spectator isn’t so bad after all.