I Chose the Plain Girl Instead of the Class’s Top Three Beauties, and Somehow She Became the Heroine - 27

Chapter 27: Unsuitable

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《Sora Mukei’s POV》

When I greeted her in the morning, Anno‑san was wiping her glasses. For the brief moment without the lenses, her eyes—uncut by the frames—looked straight at me. I thought she was beautiful. The words came out first. But after saying it, my chest stirred uneasily.

Is it really okay for someone like me to say something like this? Until now, I wanted to tell her about her changes. But if I say it to someone this beautiful, will it sound cheap?

I wasn’t the protagonist of a story. I practiced karate, but I didn’t make a name for myself, and I didn’t even have a single trophy. I wasn’t the type of person who could get lighthearted laughs on social media like the popular kids. In class, I stayed on the edge, silently watching with my eyes as topics about the three great beauties flew around. So I wondered. Did I even have the right to stand beside her while she was trying to look forward?

Anno‑san’s face without glasses kept appearing in my mind. Beautiful wasn’t enough. But I had no other words. In the end, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself, thinking…

Maybe this is just who I am. If I’m a background character, I can be the margin.

I remembered the metaphor of “margin” from a light novel.

What makes a picture stand out is the blank space that hasn’t been drawn. It’s not the main lines, but without it, the picture wouldn’t work. If it has that role, maybe there’s something I can do too. 

The scary part was that one word from me could disrupt her stride. That was why I didn’t step in too far, nor did I shy away. I matched her breathing. I picked up on what she wanted to say, without taking away the space she needed to straighten her posture.

Am I placing an unnecessary burden on her as she tries to straighten her back? Am I saying something strange and filling it with expectation?

Maai. Something I had practiced many times at the dojo. Not closing in, not retreating—stealing the other’s breathing, positioning myself without breaking my own axis. Her changes were her own will. It wasn’t my place to draw lines.

Then, what do I do?

I couldn’t make a big dramatic move. I could only quietly and steadily accumulate small efforts. I felt I liked her vibe. I didn’t want to break it. Because I thought it was part of what made her good. I conveyed that as it was. But I had to avoid saying it in a way that stepped too far. I picked up what she wanted to say and responded. I didn’t take away the space for Anno‑san to straighten her own back.

What could I worry about? I can only do what I can do.

By trying to get close, I realized the difficulty of human relationships. If the distance was far, I wouldn’t have to think about anything, yet all I could think about was Anno‑san. But when I told myself there was no need to worry, my breathing felt slightly easier. Even as a background character, I could do something. Holding a door, not blocking a hallway, not folding a page corner. Subtle, unnoticed actions that quietly matter.

After school, I practiced forms at the dojo. Strikes, blocks, counters. As my movements aligned, the morning’s unease also fell into order. I didn’t need to blame myself for saying “beautiful.” It wasn’t a lie. I just had to remember the weight of that word. On the train home, I read one of the short stories I had received. At the edge of the sticky note, in tiny letters, it said, “Quiet but painful.”

When I finished reading, a faint echo remained in my chest. I wrote a single line in my journal.

“The depiction of a cold expression that carries warmth inside is good. Breathing aligns.”

After writing it, I let out a bitter laugh. I really was bad at the protagonist’s lines. But aligning breathing, that I had practiced. I slipped under the futon and looked at the dark ceiling.

Even if I’m a background character, I can catch the light at the edge of the page. Like the sunlight dappling on a bench, I could quietly cast a shadow during someone’s lunch break. I like the atmosphere that seeps from inside Anno‑san. But maybe the beauty of her exterior isn’t appropriate. I can stand beside her because she hides it with her glasses.

Appropriateness isn’t a title given by someone else. That’s why I want confidence in standing next to her. What I need to do is tidy what’s within my reach. Precision of words, posture, maai. Tomorrow, I want to be just a little more confident than today. Whether she has her glasses on or off doesn’t matter. No, I think I like both.

I’ll prepare myself so I can say, “I like your vibe,” no matter which she is. Background characters aren’t just scenery. They have a role in making the story work. If I am there and she can maintain her outline, I will be the margin that organizes the story.

I closed my eyes. The images that appeared were her frame‑less eyes and the small rabbit ribbon. I repeated them quietly in my chest.

Beautiful. But I won’t impose it.

♢

In front of my worried self, I saw the back of Mizuki Kiritani‑san and the blond man who had asked Okabe for money. Now, he was receiving money from Kiritani‑san. I didn’t know anyone else’s circumstances. But watching it wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

“Kiritani‑san?”

I didn’t expect this voice to accomplish anything. If she were in trouble, I could help. If it was none of my business, then at worst, I would just be disliked by her.

“Ah?”

The blond man turned around. Kiritani‑san looked surprised and stared at me.

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