Saturday.
No school.
No classroom.
No umbrella dramas or convenient courtyard escapes.
Just a rainy weekend and a strangely heavy silence in Shuu's room.
He sat at his desk, guitar on his lap, notebook open in front of him.
But the chords didn't sound right.
The lyrics wouldn't come.
Not because he lacked inspiration—but because his mind was elsewhere.
He stared at a blank page and muttered:
"This was supposed to be my story."
Not dramatic.
Just factual.
He was the transmigrator.
He had been handed the cheat sheet—the world, the characters, the plot.
He knew who ended up with who. Who liked who. What scenes led to what relationships.
He even knew where the original script left Sakura behind.
Forgotten.
Lonely.
So he'd stepped in.
To change that.
To give her the ending she deserved.
But now…
Now there was someone else in the picture.
Someone who wasn't in the cheat sheet.
Someone who hadn't followed the original plot.
Motoko Iura.
She didn't have a role.
But she carved one out anyway.
Without knowing the story.
Without needing a script.
Just by being herself.
And somehow… people noticed her more.
Even Sakura did.
Shuu looked down at his guitar.
Then set it aside.
He wasn't angry.
Not really.
Just… lost.
Because what was a protagonist supposed to do when someone else started stealing the spotlight?
When someone else started doing a better job at being human?
When someone uninvited walked in—and made the story more interesting?
He leaned back, stared at the ceiling.
"…Maybe I'm not the main character after all."
The words sat heavy in the quiet room.
Rain pattered outside, soft and steady.
And the page in front of him remained blank.
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