The Story of How I, a Guy Who Couldn’t Care Less About School Castes, Somehow Ended Up Making All the Five-Star Gals Fall for Me - Chapter 04; Interlude 01

Interlude 01: The Dark Side of the Moon

When I treated Hari the way I used to, she broke down crying.

That alone was proof enough—she had forgotten all about me, Ikoi Kizuki.

Hari Suitengu and I had first met long before high school—when we were about five years old.

Back then, Hari was another student at the same ballet school my mother attended.

It wasn’t some elite academy, but a small, local studio with the motto: “Dance with joy from the heart.”

The place welcomed anyone and everyone, creating a warm, homey atmosphere I really liked. Former dancers like my mom mixed with beginners of all ages—middle-aged newcomers, little kids fresh out of kindergarten—everyone came together to enjoy the lessons.

The studio always kept its doors open for visitors and trial classes. Sometimes, even kids from overseas, still shaky with Japanese, would join in.

Every Saturday, I’d wait for my mom’s lesson to finish.

At first, she encouraged me to give it a try, so I danced once. But it didn’t click with me. I realized I liked watching others dance far more than moving myself. So after that, I became a full-time spectator.

Hari, curious about this strange boy who just watched instead of dancing, eventually came over to talk to me.

She casually started calling me “Koi-chan,” and before long, we were friends.

Even back then, Hari was ambitious and a perfectionist. If she couldn’t pull off something she’d just been taught, she’d get genuinely frustrated. And out of all the students, her presence stood out the most—even as a little kid.

“If I’m doing something wrong, Koi-chan, you have to tell me, okay?”

During her solo practice, I nervously pointed out the little mistakes I noticed.

“Say it more clearly! I want to get better!”

“Eh, but…”

“It’s fine! If you’re a real friend, you won’t hold back! So don’t hesitate!”

“…Okay, Hari.”

From then on, I stopped sugarcoating things with her.

I made it a habit to watch her posture and movements carefully, and whenever I spotted something off, I’d point it out right away. Then I’d cheer her on, encourage her, and support her however I could.

And honestly, seeing her take everything so seriously—it was beautiful. Watching her became its own kind of joy.

In time, Hari’s passion, talent, and effort paid off. She chose to move to a different studio, one that could help her pursue ballet professionally.

That shining star—so close yet already out of reach—didn’t shed a single tear when it came time to part with me.

She had a dream to chase.

And with her eyes full of hope, I knew I couldn’t be the one to hold her back.

“Koi-chan, when I get famous, come watch me. Wait for me until then.”

Without even realizing how lonely I felt, I saw her off with that special promise between us.

We were so young—too young to have our own phones or any way to stay in touch.

But back then, I believed in that promise with all my heart.

Looking back, it was only a short time, but her beauty had left such a vivid mark on me that I never forgot.

And then, the years went by.

When I entered Gingamine High, we ran into each other again—just like that.

At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, but no… she had grown even more beautiful, while still carrying that same image burned into my memory.

Her long hair was cut short now, but there was no mistaking it—Hari Suitengu.

One day, we passed each other in the hallway.

She walked right by, not even noticing me.

It wasn’t that she ignored me.

She saw me, but she didn’t recognize me as the Koi-chan she once knew.

Why was she even here?

She was supposed to be chasing her dream of becoming a professional ballet dancer.

What was she doing in an ordinary high school?

That selfish question kept circling in my head, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask her directly.

Still, word about someone as striking as her naturally spread.

And eventually, I learned the reason—she had quit ballet because of an injury.

Her dream was broken, and with it, the promise we once made could never come true.

If that was fate’s joke, then it was far too cruel.

I didn’t care if she forgot about our promise—I just wanted her to achieve her dream.

If I could’ve sat in the audience and watched Hari shine on stage, that alone would’ve been enough for me.

So I decided not to reveal myself.

If she didn’t recognize me even when we spoke face-to-face, then showing up as her childhood friend now would only be a burden.

Digging up memories she might want to forget and making her uncomfortable was the last thing I wanted.

Ten years is a long time.

People grow, inside and out.

We were teenagers now, a boy and a girl—going back to how it was before wasn’t possible.

Trying to force that gap closed would’ve been clumsy, pointless, reckless.

If she was happy now, enjoying her days as they came, then that was enough for me.

Even when we ended up in the same class in our second year, I stayed silent—just another classmate.

That was enough for me… or at least, that’s what I thought—