I was gazing out of the window. 

Humans are creatures who can’t help but compare themselves to others. I think it’s an instinct for the survival and prosperity of our offspring and species—an attraction to the stronger and smarter ones.

And this tendency becomes more apparent in closed communities. For example, when people of the same age are gathered in the same place, wearing the same uniform.

My name is Sato Hajime. Within such a community, I would probably be ranked somewhere in the middle. In terms of academics, I’m ranked around 100th out of 240 students. I’m not terrible at sports, but I’m not top-tier either. If I were to be chosen for a soccer team, I’d probably be picked fifth—that should give you an idea of where I stand.

As for my appearance, I’ve never been called handsome, but I’ve never been insulted either. Even when I look in the mirror, I think I’m just average. No matter how much I style my hair, I can’t pull off the aura of a good-looking guy.

In high school, the things people compare are mostly visible. Of course, academics and sports matter, but above all, appearance becomes the most crucial factor.

“Hajime! Go for it!”

Receiving such cheers, a tall male handsome high school student, with an aura noticeable even from afar, was wearing his uniform without a jacket, showcasing his excellent physique, and scored a brilliant goal with his long, dynamic limbs. He looked even better than the actual soccer team members, which seemed almost unfair.

This boy, who is so popular among both students and teachers that he could be considered the most popular in the entire grade, was a perfect superhuman who seemed like he had stepped out of a shoujo manga—handsome, smart, athletically gifted, and with a great personality, they say.

“Oh my god, Sato-kun is so cool.” 

I could hear the conversation from a group of girls at the top of the class hierarchy, a group filled with cute and beautiful girls.

One of the girls, who openly declared herself a fan of Sato-kun, sometimes made these kinds of comments to show her devotion to him.

“Yes, I think you and him would be a good match .”

This was said by Minami Chinatsu, who was always vying for the title of the most popular girl in the grade and often voiced support for her friends. I’ve also heard rumors that she’s supposedly a good match for Sato-kun, but regardless of her true feelings, she always had a smile on her face and brightened up the class, so I’m sure she had just as many fans as Sato-kun did.

By now, most of you probably already realized that the perfect superhuman from earlier is named Hajime Sato. And to reiterate, my name is also Hajime Sato. It’s not exactly unusual. Even if you search online, you’d find countless people named “Hajime Sato” in the search results. There’s even one listed on Wikipedia. There are just too many Hajime Satos.  However, having two in the same high school naturally leads to comparisons. It’s unavoidable. As you might expect, both of us probably feel awkward about how to address each other when one Hajime Sato calls out to the other.

One Hajime Sato was an ordinary boy. But the other Hajime Sato was not just any Hajime Sato. First, his appearance—handsome, tall, and with features so striking they would catch your eye from afar. Next, his athletic ability. Using his physique, he joined the basketball team and quickly became a regular player. And as if that weren’t enough, he wasn’t a bad person; despite being part of the top social group, he even had an understanding of anime and manga—quite a remarkable individual. 

For better or worse, the hierarchy between him and me had been established before we even had a chance to fight. He was Hajime Sato, and I was “Number Two.” This nickname, started by some thoughtless person, spread quickly due to its simplicity, and worst of all, I couldn’t even deny it myself.

This is the story of how I, “Number Two”, became number one for someone. 

!next

“Hajime! You don’t have a part-time job today, right? Is it okay if I come over?”

After homeroom ended and the teacher left the classroom, Minami Chinatsu, the most popular girl not just in our class but in the entire grade, spoke to me with a radiant smile. For a moment, it felt as if time had stopped in the classroom.

Her voice wasn’t particularly loud, but she commanded attention.

While opinions varied on whether she was the prettiest in our grade, no one could deny she was cute. She had translucent black hair that just grazed her shoulders, large eyes that reflected her emotions, a well-proportioned, cute little nose, and lips that looked adorable even when she laughed with her mouth wide open.

She wasn’t too tall or too short, standing a little below my eye level—about 160 cm to my 170 cm. Her chest wasn’t particularly noticeable in her uniform, but it was on the larger side considering her slender physique. Her slightly shorter skirt, which pushed the limits of school rules, revealed her pale, translucent skin. Yet, despite this, there was no sign of unhealthiness in her appearance, just a sense of vibrant beauty that made her all the more attractive.

On top of that, she was both athletic and academically gifted, making her a truly high-spec girl.

As for me, I was keenly aware that I was just an ordinary male student.

I had friends I ate lunch with and made small talk with during breaks, but I wasn’t part of any after-school clubs, nor did I have close friends to hang out with outside of school. I was confident no one would call me their best friend.

I wasn’t a standout introvert or a loner, nor did I have any remarkable talents that would draw attention during events. Even if I styled my hair, I wouldn’t suddenly become a handsome guy. At best, I could visit the salon regularly and style myself enough in the mornings to reach “average.”

For her—the most popular girl in school, admired by upperclassmen and never spoken ill of by other girls—to address me by my first name so casually in the closed-off, hierarchical world of high school, during the winter of our first year, in the third semester, was the spark of a potential incident.

“Huh? Eh? Why are Number Two and Minami together? What’s their relationship?”

“Maybe she mistook him for the other Sato? Though, I doubt she’d make that mistake right in front of him.”

“…Those two, huh?”

Whispers filled the air.

More specifically: A group of girls who seemed to know something. A group of girls who seemed intrigued. A group of boys who seemed displeased. Students who were simply surprised. Students pretending not to be interested but unable to hide their curiosity. Everyone was divided into these groups. No matter what, it was causing a stir.

This might have been the most attention I’d received since entering high school.

That being said, both she and I had anticipated this would happen. While I saw her as cute enough to be the heroine of any story, she wasn’t oblivious like one. She wasn’t unaware of her influence, nor ignorant of how people perceived her or the atmosphere around her. That’s exactly why she remained popular without making enemies.

I knew she had been unusually nervous that morning. The vibrations on my thigh from her unusually frequent messages were proof of that.

[(Chinatsu) Today’s the day, right?]

[(Chinatsu) I already told Yukko and the others I won’t be going home with them today.]

[(Chinatsu) Actually, maybe lunchtime would’ve been better? No, wait, that’s not right. It’s better if we go home together and sleep on it.]

[(Chinatsu) Helloooo]

[(Chinatsu) …It feels unfair that I’m the only one who’s nervous.]

[(Chinatsu) Unfair!]

[(Hajime) I’m in class, you know.]

[(Chinatsu) So you’re saying class is more important than me?]

[(Chinatsu) Hmm, I see.]

[(Chinatsu) I seeee.]

[(Chinatsu) Even though I love you so much.]

[(Hajime) Breaking news: My beloved girlfriend has turned into a yandere just because I’m paying attention in class.]

We usually had casual conversations like this. While we kept our relationship a secret, the messaging app had been our lifeline in high school. Today, though, her messages were especially frequent.

Despite her lighthearted tone, she couldn’t hide her nervousness. Unless I was being conceited, there was also a hint of happiness in her words.

Recalling our earlier exchange, I couldn’t help but smile. Looking straight into Chinatsu’s eyes, I returned her smile and answered.

“Of course, you can. But do you mind if we stop by the supermarket on the way home? I need to pick up some ingredients for dinner.”

“What should we have for dinner tonight?”

“Friday’s meat is cheap, so maybe something hearty.”

I really did intend to buy groceries, so it wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t something I needed to announce in front of everyone.

I ignored the growing commotion in the class caused by our seemingly intimate conversation.

She had already spoken to her usual group of friends, and my few friends weren’t interested in gossip like this. I had informed them beforehand, just in case.

Now, why was she smiling so brightly at someone like me? To answer that obvious question, we’ll need to rewind time a little bit.

!next

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