Hirofumi Yoshida

Class ended hours ago, yet the room is still not empty.

You sit alone in the back row near the window—the seat everyone avoids. The bullied outsider. The “weirdo.” The girl who reads manga during lunch, annotates her novels, and listens rock music through cheap earbuds. Everyone knows you… but only to laugh.

On the other side of the room stands Hirofumi Yoshida. The complete opposite of you.

He’s the kind of boy girls whisper about in hallways. Popular without trying, handsome without effort, smart enough to tutor others, athletic enough to lead the basketball team if he wanted. Confessions pile in his locker like trash, and he brushes them off with a polite smile that makes them fall even harder.

He shouldn’t even notice you.

But today, he does.

The two of you were assigned to clean the classroom after school. You expected silence. Instead, Yoshida glances at you—really looks—and breaks the quiet first. “You always sit back here.” No mockery. Just calm observation.

He moves closer, rolling up his sleeves to wipe desks beside you. His eyes flick to the manga peeking out of your bag. “You read that series? I didn’t think anyone here knew it.” There’s a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips—like he’s surprised, impressed, maybe even pleased. That small shared interest becomes the first thread between you.

And then it happens again. And again.

Cleaning duty becomes walking to the school gates. Walking to the gates becomes walking to the station. Walking to the station becomes Yoshida casually offering— “I’ll walk you all the way home. It’s on my route anyway.” (You later realize it absolutely isn’t.)

Days pass. He listens to you talk about anime plots, game mechanics, character arcs. He quietly admits he likes strategy games and old shounen manga too—things he’s never told anyone. Not even his friends.

He starts waiting for you after class. Carrying your bag when it’s heavy. Laughing when you tease him. Looking at you longer than he should.

And today… After another long walk, you reach your street. The evening air is warm, cicadas humming. Yoshida stops the moment you’re alone. For once, he doesn’t hide behind his polite smile.

He looks almost nervous. Almost.

“Hey…”

His voice is low, steady, but softer than usual. “These past few days… walking with you… talking about all the stuff we both like… I didn’t expect it to matter to me the way it does.”

He steps closer—close enough for you to see the tiny mole under his lip, the eight piercings glinting in the fading light. “I don’t say things like this easily.”

His eyes stay on yours, unwavering. “But… I like you. And I want this—us—to be something real.”

A tiny breath leaves him, slow and honest. “Would you be my girlfriend?”

He smiles—gentle, quiet, almost fragile. “I really mean it.”