So Yanaimi Actually Knows How Miserable She Is

The silence spread between Imaizumi Keita and Yanaimi Anna as they sat on the bench in the courtyard corner.

There was enough space between them for two more people to sit — a polite yet distant physical boundary.

Imaizumi quietly ate his lunch, and out of the corner of his eye he could see the girl curled up at the opposite end, taking tiny bites of her rice ball.

A breeze passed by, carrying the faint scent of shampoo from her hair to his nose.

It didn’t feel bad.

The plan was proceeding smoothly — the target had already entered the safe zone he designated.

But simply sitting like this was too inefficient.

He needed more, and he needed to confirm a few things.

Imaizumi set down his chopsticks and wiped his mouth with a napkin, deciding to break the silence.

“Looks like,” he said calmly, “you’ve successfully matched those two together.”

His voice wasn’t loud, but in the quiet of this corner, it sounded especially clear.

Yanaimi Anna’s chewing stopped for a moment.

“Eh?!”

She lifted her head and stared at him blankly, as though she couldn’t immediately understand the meaning behind his words.

She paused, swallowed her rice, and answered with a muffled voice:

“…Mm. Just like you saw.”

There wasn’t much emotion in her tone, and her right hand absentmindedly poked the fried chicken in her bento.

“Now the two of them stick together all day, almost inseparable.”

“In the morning, at lunch, after school for sure. Sometimes when I see them, I feel like… I’m the one who’s being clueless, forcing myself between them as a third wheel.”

Her voice held a hint of self-mockery, but even more — an undeniable sense of loss.

“Even though… even though I knew Sosuke first… even though we’re childhood friends…”

There it was again.

Another classic defeated-dog line — only making her appear even more miserable.

Imaizumi mocked her silently in his heart.

If it were him, he would never obsessively repeat something so embarrassing.

But he also understood: this was the last fig leaf Anna used to justify her twelve years of effort.

And his job was to tear that fig leaf away.

“Love doesn’t care about who came first.”

The moment he spoke, he could feel her stubborn unwillingness grow stronger — rough, but definitely absorbable emotional energy.

He added more force.

“Love isn’t like lining up to buy something. Winning is winning, losing is losing. The process and excuses have no meaning compared to the result.”

Yanaimi didn’t argue.
She just lowered her head and kept eating.

But Imaizumi didn’t intend to stop here.

He needed a deeper reaction — something that would not only soothe his headache but bring that subtle feeling of pleasure.

He was starting to enjoy the positive feedback from his ability…

“And also, Yanaimi-san,” he continued after a pause, “stop bringing up those ten-plus years. The moment you need ‘time’ to prove something… it means you can no longer prove anything at all.”

Yanaimi Anna froze completely.

Her hand trembled as she held her bento.

She wanted to refute him — but didn’t know what to say.

Imaizumi could clearly feel her emotional turbulence.

The persistent pain in his temples faded away again, replaced by a wave of comfort that made his thoughts drift.

Educating a pretty girl through harsh realism…

Really awkward, but also kind of satisfying…

The courtyard fell silent again.

Yanaimi kept her head down, her bangs covering her eyes so he couldn’t see her expression.

Just when Imaizumi thought she would stay silent — or break down crying — she suddenly lifted her head.

Her face wasn’t filled with despair or collapse.

It was blank, numb.

“That night at the family restaurant…”

Her voice was light, flat, without emotion.

“…around ten o’clock, Sosuke’s older sister called me.”

Imaizumi raised his eyebrow slightly, surprised.

“She asked if I knew where Sosuke was, because she couldn’t reach him the whole night.”

After saying that, Yanaimi fell silent again.

She lowered her head, picked up a piece of tamagoyaki, and chewed absentmindedly — who knows if she even tasted anything.

A trace of realization passed through Imaizumi’s mind.

So that’s how it is.

He originally thought the cruelty of the classroom scene came from a massive information gap.

He thought Anna still naively believed she only lost in romance, unaware that the victors had already crossed into physical intimacy.

But he was completely wrong.

There was no information gap.

Sosuke’s sister had called Anna that very night.

A boy newly in love, not returning home, unreachable…

Anyone could guess what that meant.

Which meant—
Yanaimi Anna had known everything from the start.

She knew Sosuke didn’t return home after running out of the restaurant.

She knew he and Himiya Karen likely spent the night together — even crossing the final line.

She knew all of it.

And despite that, she still smiled and accepted Karen’s morning hug in the classroom.

Despite that, she still listened as the two discussed future dates and played the role of the “witness.”

And when Imaizumi forced her cornered with harsh logic, she didn’t break — she calmly revealed this fact.

This wasn’t strength.

This was numb clarity — the kind only found in someone who had already crossed the boundary of despair.

Imaizumi couldn’t help sighing inwardly.

Inviting a defeated-dog girl in this state into his plan would obviously boost the chances of success…

But why did a faint sense of guilt linger —
as if he were betraying the last remnants of her one-sided feelings?

No.

Failed love should be thrown away —
especially one as completely defeated as hers.

And as for why he felt even a sliver of guilt—

Probably because…

Despite his worldview,
he still wasn’t rotten to the core.

Or so Imaizumi judged himself.