The bell rang for third period, its shrill clang echoing down the freshly waxed halls of Kaisei High. Students spilled out of classrooms in clumps and clusters, the corridors a blur of chatter, shuffled feet, and half-zipped backpacks. Somewhere amidst the chaos, Haruki Tenma trailed a few steps behind Miyako Hanabira, his hand tight around the thin folder now carrying the weight of his new albeit symbolic marital status.
The official certificate crinkled faintly with each nervous squeeze of his fingers.
"So," Miyako said without turning around, her arms crossed like a barrier, her voice sharp but tinged with the breathlessness of someone teetering between panic and denial. "We're married now. What the heck are we supposed to do?"
Haruki blinked, the word married still bouncing around his skull like a stray tennis ball. "I figured we'd ask the school office first. They did say it's symbolic until graduation, but…"
"But we have to act normal," Miyako cut in, glancing back over her shoulder. Her eyes darted around the hallway like she expected someone to jump out with a hidden camera.
Normal.
The word felt like a cosmic joke written in Comic Sans.
Normal was eating lunch without accidentally sitting on the same side of the table.
Normal was borrowing notes, not toothbrushes.
Normal was definitely not sharing a tiny apartment with the girl who once stabbed him in the leg with a pencil in second grade for calling her a know-it-all.
Back in their third-period classroom, the energy of the hallway gave way to the low hum of scribbling pens and the distant chirp of cicadas outside. Haruki and Miyako slipped into their usual seats opposite ends of the room, like magnets forcibly kept apart.
Ms. Tachibana, their homeroom teacher, stood at the front, already in the middle of taking roll. She was sharp in every sense sharp glasses, sharp bun, and sharper eyes that seemed to see straight through teenage nonsense.
And, as it turned out, straight into Haruki's open bag.
She caught sight of the edge of the certificate peeking out like a guilty secret. Her eyes narrowed to slits behind her lenses.
"So this is what the school's been buzzing about," she said quietly, her tone unreadable. She motioned for them to step outside the classroom after roll call.
In the hallway, away from prying eyes but not far enough from the looming threat of rumor, Ms. Tachibana folded her arms and raised a brow. "You two really got married?"
Her voice wasn't angry, exactly but it carried the weight of authority, disappointment, and the terrifying power of adult logic.
Haruki scratched the back of his head. "Technically… yeah. But it's symbolic. A school program thing. They said we can get it annulled after graduation."
Miyako jumped in quickly, her tone clipped. "We want to keep it a secret. No couple-y nonsense. No dating rumors. No drama."
Ms. Tachibana studied them both like she was deciding whether to hand them detention or offer them couples counseling. Finally, she sighed, tapping her knuckle against the wooden doorframe.
"Alright. I'm going to trust you. But the school expects you to behave appropriately. That means no public displays, no drama, and keep your grades up."
Haruki nodded like he was taking an oath in court.
Miyako muttered, "Got it, Sensei," with all the enthusiasm of a cat being told to take a bath.
The sun had dipped low by the time school ended, painting the sky in soft hues of orange and pink. At a park a few blocks from campus, Haruki and Miyako sat on a bench beneath a sakura tree, its blossoms rustling in the summer breeze. Kids laughed in the distance, and the air smelled faintly of caramel corn from a nearby food stand.
Miyako lounged sideways across the bench, one foot barely grazing the gravel. Haruki leaned back with his arms behind his head, eyes staring into the branches above like they held the answers to life's biggest questions.
"So," Miyako began, kicking her leg lazily. "Rule number one: we don't tell anyone. Not friends, not family, not even the cat."
"Agreed." Haruki pulled out his phone and immediately started locking down his social media profiles like a man erasing a secret identity.
"Rule two: no holding hands. Or hugging. Or any of that couple stuff," Miyako added, voice firm. "Seriously, I don't want people thinking we're some... campus power couple."
Haruki frowned, almost offended. "Is it that impossible to imagine?"
"Yes," Miyako deadpanned. "And rule three: no sharing beds. I don't care if there's a freak hurricane and every other room is on fire."
"We don't even live together yet," Haruki muttered.
"Yet," Miyako echoed ominously, grinning. "Just covering all the nightmare fuel."
Their peace was abruptly shattered by a familiar voice cutting through the wind.
"Hey, Tenma! Hanabira!"
They both flinched.
It was Riku Haruki's best friend since middle school, captain of the badminton team, and the single most gossip-hungry human in a ten-kilometer radius. He jogged up, sweat still glistening on his forehead from practice, eyes wide with mischief.
"I *knew* it! So it's true?" he asked, practically bouncing on his toes. "You two actually tied the knot?"
Miyako threw Haruki a side-glare so sharp it could slice paper.
Haruki laughed nervously. "It's… a long story."
"Long stories are the best kind," Riku said, grinning. "Spill it after practice?"
Miyako groaned inwardly, already dreading the questions.
Badminton practice passed in a blur. Haruki couldn't focus his serves were off, his footwork sloppy. He kept glancing toward the gym doors, where Miyako stood watching with arms crossed, a half-hearted cheer escaping her every few minutes.
To anyone else, it looked like a girl rooting for her boyfriend.
To Haruki, it looked like trouble.
After practice, Haruki barely had time to towel off before Riku cornered him in the locker room like a journalist chasing a scandal.
"Okay, I'm dying here. You two got married? What, did you elope after cram school?"
"It was a mistake," Miyako said before Haruki could open his mouth. "Some kind of paperwork error. We're fixing it."
"But not too fast, right?" Riku winked. "This could be a great chance to mess with people. Fake kisses. Secret rendezvous. Milk it."
Haruki groaned and buried his face in his gym towel.
Later that evening, walking home under the amber glow of street lamps, Miyako pulled a wrinkled flyer from her tote bag like she was revealing a winning lottery ticket.
"Look what I found," she said, waving it like bait.
Haruki leaned in to read: Kaisei High Cultural Festival Couples Cosplay Contest!
His heart dropped. "No. No way."
Miyako's eyes gleamed with the thrill of impending chaos. "I'm signing us up."
Haruki stopped dead in his tracks. "You're kidding."
She didn't even look at him. "Not at all. Rule four: don't ruin the fun."
That night, Haruki lay in his room, ceiling fan humming above, the paper certificate glowing faintly under his desk lamp.
He stared at the word Married like it was a foreign language, as if saying it out loud might summon some cosmic entity to take it back.
This is definitely not normal, he thought.
But then again, maybe "normal" was overrated.
And maybe... just maybe...
It wasn't so bad.