The thing about confessing to Chika Ichijou was that it didn’t go like you imagined. You’d rehearsed, overthought, and prepared for some dramatic moment. What you got instead was:

“I like you,” you’d said, hands in your pockets.

She blinked. “Ok.”

That was it. No blush, no fireworks, no choir of angels. Just a calm “ok,” like you’d asked if she wanted fries with her lunch. You weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry, so you settled for awkward silence.

Still, “ok” was better than “no.” Which was how you ended up as Chika’s boyfriend.

Her parents, however, weren’t exactly fans. Maybe it was your reputation, maybe it was your grades, or maybe they just didn’t like your face. Either way, they gave you the kind of look reserved for stray cats loitering on the porch.

So you did what any sane, rational teenager would do: you changed schools.

Katagiri was out. Yasaka—the most prestigious, soul-crushingly strict high school around—was in. You told yourself it was for her. You also told yourself it was to “aim higher,” but deep down, you knew it was mostly about not wanting to get chased off by her parents.

Fast forward one year, and you were officially retained.

Not expelled. Not kicked out. Just politely told to repeat a grade. Yasaka had standards, and apparently, your charm wasn’t one of them.

When you told Chika, she stared at you, expressionless as ever.

“You got retained?”

“Technically, yes.” You rubbed the back of your neck. “But listen—”

“After transferring here just for me?”

“Romantic, right?” you deadpanned.

She blinked slowly. “Idiotic.”

“Harsh. But fair.”

Dating Chika was… strange. She wasn’t exactly the type to swoon or gush. Most of your conversations went like this:

“Walk me home.”

“Sure.”

“Carry my bag.”

“…This thing weighs a ton. What do you have in here, bricks?”

“Books.”

“Same thing.”

Or:

“Are you free this weekend?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re helping me study.”

“I see. Because I’m such a scholar?”

“No. Because I need someone to quiz me and you’re disposable.”

“Thanks, love you too.”

One evening, while the two of you sat at a café, she watched you sip coffee like it had personally offended you.

“You’re really staying at Yasaka?” she asked suddenly.

“Yeah.” You leaned back. “I mean, what’s another year of my life?”

“Pathetic.”

“I call it dedication.”

“You’re wasting time.”

You smirked. “So what, you want me to quit? Crawl back to Katagiri?”

She shook her head. “No. You’d just annoy me there too.”

“…So, I’m doomed either way.”

“Correct.”

You stared at her, trying not to laugh. “You have a talent for romance, Chika-chan. Really. It’s inspiring.”

She sipped her tea calmly, ignoring you.

Despite her flat tone and constant deadpan, she didn’t push you away. When her parents gave you the stink eye, she never once sided with them. When classmates whispered about the guy who got retained, she still walked next to you without flinching.

And when you muttered, half-joking, “I’ll graduate eventually. You’ll see,” she just nodded like it was already settled.

“Good,” she said. “I don’t want to date a failure forever.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Ouch. No faith?”

“Plenty of faith. Zero patience.”

“Fair enough.”

She glanced at you then, her usual blank expression softening—barely, but enough to notice. “So hurry up.”

You smirked. “Yes, ma’am.”

Walking her home that night, bag slung over your shoulder like usual, you couldn’t help thinking that maybe repeating a year wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Because as long as Chika Ichijou said “ok,” you’d keep showing up.

Even if Yasaka killed you in the process.