The weeks following the classroom interviews passed in a blur of mundane routines. Surviving the presentation with Suzu-san had been a massive relief, mostly because we both kept it incredibly brief and avoided looking at the class entirely. Since then, things had settled.
I was currently sitting in Takahashi-sensei's history class, half-listening to a lecture on the Edo period, when a crumpled piece of paper hit the side of my head. I didn't need to turn to know who threw it.
"Pssst, Yamamoto!" Kudo whispered loudly from the desk beside me.
I sighed, keeping my eyes glued to the chalkboard. "What?"
"The cosplays arrived!"
Oh, no. A cold chill ran down my spine. I had completely blocked Kudo's insane cosplay sleepover idea from my memory. How could I forget after reluctantly handing over 3,000 yen for a costume I never wanted?
"So, the sleepover is actually happening, huh?" I muttered, trying to sound indifferent.
"Yes!" Kudo whisper-yelled, vibrating with excitement. "This weekend!"
"When exactly?"
"We start at 22:00, and it ends right at 23:00. I have to be asleep by then, or my mom will literally scream at me."
I blinked, thoroughly confused. A one-hour costume party? Also, how exactly was his mom going to scream at him? We lived in the school dorms. Was she going to randomly pop out of his closet? She probably just forced him into a mandatory goodnight video call to check on him. Kudo was just as socially anxious as I was, he wasn't going to risk breaking his mom's strict curfew rules.
"Okay, whatever," I whispered back. "But do we actually have to wear those costumes?"
"They're cosplays! Not costumes!"
"Okay, okay, fine..."
The bell finally rang, cutting off Kudo's otaku rant. I stepped outside the classroom, stretching my arms as I blended into the hallway. Students darted toward the cafeteria as if their lives depended on getting the best meal before everything ran out. I walked at my own pace, hands in my pockets, watching the madness unfold. Why were so many people willingly spending their money on overpriced cafeteria food? It wasn't even that good.
As I made my way down the hall, I caught sight of Sakura Nozomi, the social butterfly herself. She was standing by the lockers with two girls I didn't recognize, effortlessly switching between casual conversation and passing out sleek, expensive-looking envelopes.
I tried to slip past the crowd, keeping my eyes glued to the floor, but her social radar was terrifyingly accurate.
"Oh, hey!" Sakura's bright, bubbly voice cut through the hallway noise. She stepped right into my path, a flawless, practiced smile on her face. "Um, Yamamoto-kun, right?"
I froze, my hands freezing in my pockets. I was suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that the most popular girl in our year was looking directly at me. "Uh. Y-yeah..."
"Right, Yamamoto-kun!" She didn't miss a beat, completely unbothered by my awkwardness. She held out one of the dark, heavy envelopes. "I'm handing these out to everyone in our year. It's my birthday party next weekend, May 14th! You should totally come!"
I blinked, taking the envelope numbly. "Oh. Uh, thanks."
"Of course! Hope to see you there!" Before I could even process what happened, she had already spun around on her heel, her attention instantly locking onto a group of girls walking past us. "Omigosh, Hina, wait up! I have your invites!"
I stood there for a second, looking down at the thick cardstock in my hand.
I already knew I was invited. Everyone in our year was. It wasn't even a question. But as I watched her hand them out to the next group, a heavy feeling settled in my gut.
I was just another NPC in this school, a background character filling in the crowd... And honestly? That didn't bother me. I wasn't looking to be the center of attention, nor did I want to stick out at a massive event filled with people who barely knew I existed.
Still... it would have been nice to be invited out of genuine want rather than out of some social obligation. Let's be real. Sakura barely knew my name. Because she was the type of person who made sure everyone was included, I got an invite by default. It wasn't personal. She didn't think, 'Hey, I really want Kenji there.' It was just a mass handout.
If I went, what then? Ichika was going, but she'd be surrounded by her new, popular friends. It wasn't like I could just stick by her side the whole time. Kudo would probably be there too, but the idea of him dragging me into some stupid, embarrassing situation in front of the popular kids made me want to jump out a window.
Would anyone even notice if I didn't show up? I seriously doubted it. Plus, if I went, I'd be expected to bring a present or hand over cash. For what? Sakura wouldn't even notice if I was there or not.
I exhaled through my nose, stuffing my hands deeper into my pockets.
Yeah. I wasn't going.
I'd stay at the dorm, play games, and enjoy my own company. No noise, no forced small talk, no dealing with a party that wasn't meant for me in the first place.
That sounded way better.
"What sounded better?" a voice chirped right next to my ear.
I practically jumped out of my skin, my heart hammering against my ribs. I whipped my head to the side. Ichika had materialized out of the hallway crowd, falling perfectly into step beside me with a bright, curious smile.
"Don't sneak up on me like that," I groaned, rubbing my chest. "You're going to give me a heart attack before I even graduate."
"You were staring off into space again," she pointed out, her eyes dropping to my hand, which was still half-stuffed in my pocket, clutching Sakura's envelope. "Ooh! You got one too!"
She reached into her own bag and pulled out an identical, sleek envelope, waving it like a winning lottery ticket. "Almost everyone in class got one. It's going to be huge. Have you thought about what you're going to wear?"
I looked away, staring straight ahead at the exit doors. "I'm not going."
Ichika's footsteps faltered for a fraction of a second before she caught back up to me. Her cheerful smile shifted into a slight, questioning frown. "What? Why not?"
"Because it's a massive party full of people I don't know, for a girl who barely knows my last name," I said, stating the facts as plainly as I could. "I'm just a background character, Ichika. If I show up, I'll just stand in a corner looking awkward."
Ichika stepped directly in front of me, forcing me to stop walking. The hallway traffic seamlessly parted around us. She put her hands on her hips, looking me dead in the eyes with that stubborn, unyielding expression I was starting to know entirely too well.
"Kenji," she said firmly. "You are not a background character. And you are definitely not standing in a corner." Her lips curled into a mischievous, challenging smirk. "Because you're going with me."