Heartbeats and Illusions

A wise sage once proclaimed: "Examine yourself three times a day." But what about trusting others? Could you truly be friends with someone you couldn't trust—even yourself?

Natsukawa Kanade never thought he'd wrestle with such a question. He always believed he was genuine toward his friends. That belief unraveled today, as he found himself peering into the depths of his heart for the first time—and faced the truth of his selfishness.

His request to Shiina Mahiru had been anything but fair. Not because the request itself was insincere, but because it stemmed from a rude and possessive desire. Maybe Shiina wouldn't find anything wrong with it; perhaps she'd even brush it off as inconsequential. But Kanade knew better. He had asked her to forgo her freedom of choice, to bend her behavior to satisfy his selfish need.

All over a simple outfit.

It wasn't as if Shiina's attire, stunning as it was, should matter. Clothes were clothes, and passersby were bound to notice her angelic appearance regardless. It wasn't a big deal. Or at least, that's what he tried to tell himself. But deep down, he couldn't accept it. He didn't want others to see her like this.

More than that, he didn't want others to know her. He feared the possibility of her making friends, falling in love, or—worst of all—growing distant from him. He was afraid someone might come along and steal her attention away.

But as her friend, shouldn't he celebrate her happiness? Shouldn't he smile and support her?

He couldn't.

The mere thought of Shiina being taken away made his heart ache. Even if their relationship remained strictly platonic, he wanted to preserve the bond they shared. Forever, if possible.

But was that really the way friends were supposed to think?

Kanade's thoughts swirled in chaotic loops, returning to one question again and again: Did he like Shiina?

Perhaps she was his first love—his white moonlight, the one who drove him to change, to become a better person, to step outside his comfort zone. Surely, those feelings could only be called love. Right?

And yet, why had he felt so relieved when his confession was rejected?

Wasn't a failed first love supposed to haunt you? Wasn't it supposed to linger, unforgettable, like a bittersweet melody?

Then why, when he thought of other girls—senpai, Eriri, Kaguya, or even Yukino—did his heart so easily wander? Could it be that his so-called love for Shiina had been nothing more than an illusion? A fleeting infatuation with an idealized image?

The more he reflected, the darker his thoughts became. Maybe he wasn't in love with Shiina at all. Maybe he was just drawn to her traits—her kindness, her strength, her determination.

And it wasn't just Shiina. Senpai's warmth, Eriri's passion, Yukino's resolve, and Kaguya's sharp wit—they all captivated him in different ways. But did he love them as people?

No. What he admired were fragments of their personalities, not their whole selves. And his attraction to them was rooted in familiarity, not genuine connection.

His so-called feelings weren't love—they were dependence. A selfish craving to keep them close, to fill the emptiness inside him.

Kanade sighed, the weight of his realizations crushing him like a boulder. He had flaunted his so-called "love" for so long, but it was all hollow. He wasn't a romantic hero; he was just a cowardly thief, trying to steal warmth and affection from others without offering anything real in return.

"Shiina..." Kanade's voice broke the silence as he turned to the girl sitting beside him.

"Huh? What's wrong?" Shiina blinked, her wide, doe-like eyes filled with gentle curiosity.

"There's something I need to tell you. Please... listen carefully."

Shiina tilted her head slightly, her expression serious now. She didn't speak, but her silence encouraged him to continue.

Kanade took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. "Shiina... I fell in love with you the moment I first saw you."

Shiina's lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

"I admired your kindness, your strength, your determination," Kanade continued. "I admired everything about you... but not you as a person."

Shiina's eyes widened, a flicker of confusion crossing her face.

"I'm sorry," Kanade said, turning his gaze toward the television. He picked up the game controller and began pressing buttons absently. "The Natsukawa Kanade who confessed to you back then wasn't someone who truly loved you."

His fingers paused briefly on the buttons. "I was just relying on you. I wanted to tie you to me, to use the title of 'lover' as a way to claim your affection. I was selfish and shallow, trying to steal the purity of your feelings. You were right to reject me."

The words "Game Over" flashed across the screen, a fitting conclusion to his confession. Kanade set the controller down and lowered his head.

"I'm sorry," he repeated softly.

This wasn't the first time he'd apologized to Shiina. It probably wouldn't be the last. But in this moment, he wondered if she would finally leave for good.

Would she yell at him and storm out? Or would she stay silent, quietly exposing his flaws to everyone around them?

Kanade didn't know. He only knew that, whatever happened next, it would be the punishment he deserved.

To his surprise, Shiina didn't immediately respond. Instead, she simply watched him, her expression unreadable.

As the silence stretched on, Kanade's thoughts drifted to Kato. Kato, who always seemed to understand him better than he understood himself. Kato, who had likely seen through his selfishness long before he had.

He sighed again, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Even Kato, as considerate as she was, probably couldn't have guessed he'd take things this far.

Wasn't it selfish to approach others with motives so impure? Crafting masks, creating personalities like costumes on a stage, just to bask in the approval of others?

What would Shiina, Kato, or even the others think if they knew? If they saw the hollow truth of his intentions?

Or maybe... they already did.

He wasn't exactly subtle. For all his careful planning, his so-called "characters" were riddled with inconsistencies, cracks so glaring that they must have seen through him long ago.

"I'm sorry, Shiina," he said, his voice trembling. "I've been lying to you all along. You have every right to be angry..."

Shiina froze for a moment, and then—

"I am angry!"

Before he could react, a pillow flew straight at his face, smothering him in an explosion of softness.

"You idiot, Kanade! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Do you even trust me? You waited this long to say something?"

Her voice wavered between genuine anger and something else—something lighter, teasing even.

Natsukawa opened his mouth to respond but stopped himself. There was no excuse. Nothing he could say would undo the lies or justify his selfishness.

He braced himself as Shiina grabbed another pillow and let it fly, her aim surprisingly accurate. Each hit seemed to carry a mix of frustration and something softer, something that made his heart ache.

"Idiot! Stupid Kanade!"

Her onslaught of pillows and scolding eventually gave way to exhaustion. She dropped the pillow, leapt at him with a sudden headbutt, and started landing weak punches on his chest.

But those punches—they weren't meant to hurt.

The strength wasn't there. Her movements were clumsy, half-hearted. Each blow felt more like a tap, and her head rested against his chest, her soft hair brushing his chin. The faint scent of her shampoo filled the air, and Kanade's breath caught.

"Shiina..."

"Kanade..." Her voice was muffled, barely audible against the fabric of his shirt. "Did you ever actually like me?"

The words struck him like a bolt of lightning.

"I..." He hesitated, the truth clawing at his throat. "I don't know."

The confession fell from his lips, heavy with uncertainty. Every ounce of determination he'd felt earlier had dissolved in her presence. He couldn't lie to her, not anymore.

Shiina stayed silent for a moment, her fists still resting against him. Then, in a voice softer than a whisper, she said, "I'm glad I rejected you back then."

"What?" Kanade blinked, caught completely off guard. "What did you say?"

"Idiot." She pulled away, glaring up at him with fiery eyes. "I said, I'm glad I rejected you!"

And with that, she turned on her heel, her golden hair swaying as she made her way to the door.

Kanade sat frozen, watching her go. His chest felt hollow, yet strangely lighter. Was this what it meant to be hated?

Before he could sink too deeply into his thoughts, a small envelope smacked him square on the forehead.

He caught it clumsily and opened it, reading the single sentence scrawled inside:

Be prepared. Stupid Kanade!