-3 March 2008-
The lunch bell rang, echoing through the hallway as students poured out of their classrooms, chattering and laughing on their way to the cafeteria. I stood by my locker, effortlessly leaning against it—because, well, I didn't really have to try. Popularity came naturally to me.
"Hey, Ryusei!"
Junpei, my loud and energetic best friend, practically tackled me from the side, slinging an arm around my shoulders. His grin was as wide as ever. "What happened last night? Why'd you bail so early?"
I barely had a chance to open my mouth before he gasped dramatically, eyes widening like he'd just uncovered some grand secret. "Wait—don't tell me! You were off having 'fun' with Yuriko, weren't you?"
Smirking, I gave him an easy, confident answer. "Of course."
Junpei staggered back, clutching his chest like I'd just confessed to something scandalous. "As expected of the great Fujiwara Ryusei! Every girl wants a piece of you."
Rolling my eyes, I let out a chuckle. "Not every girl."
"Yeah, okay, almost every girl—except that one," Junpei said, suddenly nodding toward something, or rather, someone in the distance.
I followed his gaze, raising a brow. "Who do you mean?"
Junpei scrunched up his face in exaggerated concentration. "You know, the one with the big glasses in your class! What's her name again?"
"Keiko?," I corrected, a bit annoyed at his tone.
"Right, Keiko." He shrugged, as if she wasn't even worth remembering. "Sorry, she just has no charm for me, so I forgot."
We entered the cafeteria, where a few girls waved at me, throwing me inviting smiles. Junpei, however, leaned in closer, keeping his voice low but still teasing. "Look, there she is—big glasses girl!"
I glanced in the direction he was pointing. Sure enough, Keiko was sitting alone in the corner, quietly flipping through a book, completely unbothered by the noise and chaos around her.
"What about her?" I asked, not really getting why he was so fixated on this.
"Don't you think it's weird?" Junpei said. "She never looks at you, never blushes when you're around. It's like she doesn't care about you at all! Meanwhile, all these prettier girls are practically throwing themselves at you."
I shrugged, brushing it off. But for some reason, his words stuck with me.
---
That's how it all began. Junpei and me, being our usual stupid self, came up with a dare: ask Keiko out. It was supposed to be a joke, a way to prove that even she, the seemingly disinterested girl, wouldn't be able to resist me.
I was 17 at the time, full of arrogance and ego. As the most popular guy in school, I believed I could get anything I wanted. Girls flocked to me, and I never thought twice about playing with their feelings. Relationships were just a game to me—no commitments, no strings attached.
So, I accepted the dare. Without hesitation, I walked over to Keiko's table.
"Hey, Keiko," I said, flashing her my signature smile.
She looked up from her book, her big glasses sliding slightly down her nose. "Yes?"
"Go out with me," I said, fully expecting her to laugh or blush like everyone else did when I spoke to them.
Instead, she tilted her head, studied me for a moment, and said, "Okay."
I was stunned. She agreed, just like that? No hesitation, no flustered reaction? For a moment, I didn't know what to say.
"Why did you agree?" I asked, genuinely confused.
"Well, you're the one who asked," she replied simply, her tone as flat as her expression.
I blinked, still trying to process. "I mean… I didn't think you were into relationships."
"Why not?" she asked, her voice calm, almost emotionless.
Something about her demeanor threw me off. She wasn't like the other girls who giggled and fawned over me. She was cold, straightforward, and completely unreadable.
"Listen," I finally said, trying to regain control of the situation. "This was just a dare. I wasn't serious."
"I know," she replied, her expression unchanging.
That took me by surprise. "You know? Then why did you still say yes?"
She adjusted her glasses and looked at me evenly. "Because I felt sorry for you."
"Sorry for me?" I repeated, taken aback.
She nodded. "You would've been embarrassed in front of your friends if I rejected you. Besides, I've never dated anyone before. I thought it might be an interesting experience."
Her bluntness left me speechless. For the first time in a long while, I felt something stir inside me—something I hadn't felt with any of the girls I'd been with before. It wasn't love, not yet. It was curiosity.
"So," she continued, "do you want to break up now? I don't mind."
Looking at her, I made a split-second decision. "No," I said. "I'll wait for you after school, okay?"
That was the day it all started—my relationship with Keiko.
---
True to my word, I waited for her by the school gates. She walked out, her bag slung over her shoulder, her expression as unreadable as ever.
"Let's go," I said, falling into step beside her.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Anywhere you want," I replied.
She thought for a moment before suggesting a quiet park nearby. We sat on a bench under a cherry blossom tree, the petals falling gently around us.
"So," I began, trying to break the silence. "What do you like to do for fun?"
"Read," she answered simply.
I chuckled. "Anything else?"
"No."
Talking to her was like pulling teeth, but for some reason, I didn't mind. There was something refreshing about her honesty, her lack of pretense.
As we sat there, I found myself wanting to know more about her. Who was this girl who could so easily see through me? Who wasn't afraid to call me out, to reject the façade I showed everyone else?
For the first time, I felt like I'd met someone who wasn't playing my game—someone who was real.
---
What started as a dare quickly became something I didn't expect. Keiko wasn't like the other girls I'd dated. She didn't fawn over me or hang on my every word. She treated me like… well, like I wasn't special.
At first, it annoyed me. But the more time I spent with her, the more I realized how much I enjoyed her company. She was smart, funny in her own dry way, and completely uninterested in my popularity.
For the first time, I felt like someone was seeing me—not the image I projected, but the person I really was underneath.
But I was still young, still arrogant. I didn't realize how much she would change my life, or how much I would end up hurting her.
Looking back now, I wish I could tell my 17-year-old self to stop, to think, to take her seriously. But I didn't. And that's how the mess began.