A Loser's Handbook to Romance: Yanami's Guide to Getting Rejected

Summer.

It was hotter than I'd anticipated, but I was content with it anyway. This was, after all, my first experience with the season after leaving 'that' place.

'Not a bad start,' I thought.

Right now, I was standing at the entrance of a family restaurant—one I'd been meaning to visit for a while. It wasn't exactly close, but after reading several glowing reviews online, particularly about the desserts, I decided it was worth the journey.

'—they're just too tempting.'

So I stepped inside, ordered, and took a seat by the window, watching the world outside as I waited.

Soon enough, a waitress approached, balancing a tray that looked almost too colorful for my tastes. She placed each item on the table with meticulous care.

"Here's your order," the waitress said with a polite smile.

The first was the famous sundae: velvety vanilla ice cream layered with golden honey, crowned with fresh strawberries and a sprig of mint.

Then there was the melon soda—a vivid, almost blinding green, bubbling cheerfully in its glass. I hadn't anticipated this much flashiness.

Next was a neatly arranged platter of assorted Japanese sweets. Small daifuku mochi with a light dusting of powdered sugar sat beside delicate slices of matcha cheesecake, their colors standing in stark contrast to the porcelain plate.

The final addition was a parfait layered with chocolate mousse, red beans, and whipped cream.

'These were the famous desserts?'

I stared at the array, mildly impressed.

After saying a thank you to the waitress, I slowly picked up my spoon, sampling a spoonful of the sundae.

'This is...'

I began to analyze the taste.

The vanilla was rich, and the honey added a pleasant sweetness that wasn't overbearing.

'Not bad.'

Moving on to the daifuku, I tried one and quickly caught on the soft and chewy sensations, with just the right amount of sweetness—nothing too dramatic, basically.

The matcha cheesecake followed with its balance of earthy and creamy flavors, reminding me why I hadn't written this place off as "overrated" quite yet.

I nodded impeccably.

'So far so good.'

Reaching for the parfait—

"What's your problem, Sousuke?! Are you just not gonna do anything?!"

A sudden shout from a nearby table snapped me out of my sanctuary.

'A lovers' quarrel?'

Yeah, no doubt, and all happening just a few feet away.

'So much for a quiet meal...'

Maybe it was an "extrovert" thing with these people—whatever it was, they could use some training at the 'White Room' for proper social conduct. They didn't call it "the Best Teaching Place" for nothing.

I recognized the voices as well. They were students from my school, and when I looked at them, they wore the same uniform with the one I had in my home.

One of them is Yanami Anna, a cheerful, popular type, and was currently glaring across the table at Hakamada Sousuke—a well-liked, handsome guy.

I hadn't realized they were dating, but it didn't exactly surprise me. They were always together at school. The question was, why choose this restaurant for their meltdown?

The parfait melted slightly under my gaze as I watched the exchange.

I scooped up a spoonful, the earthy bitterness of matcha mixing perfectly with the sweetness of red bean.

"Unless you go stop her right now, Karen-chan's gonna be gone forever. You realize that, don't you? Do you have any idea how far away Britain is?"

"We said our goodbyes," Hakamada replied calmly.

"And you honestly mean to tell me you took her seriously?!"

'Classic.'

I'd heard this sort of exchange many times, but usually through a glass wall or over dull classroom chatter.

Karen—who was she again?

It clicked immediately: Himemiya Karen, the transfer student from a few months back. She made an impression right away, accusing Hakamada of groping her the moment she arrived.

'Wait, was she leaving already?'

"Should I not have?" Hakamada asked.

"You wouldn't get it. You don't know how it feels to be in..." Yanami trailed off, her head low, biting her lip.

"Anna, I—"

"Forget it," she interrupted, voice quiet yet firm.

She raised her head, composed now, and placed a bike key on the table.

"Go. She's waiting for you."

"You're sure?"

"She's a patient girl," Yanami replied, forcing a thin smile. "Just don't keep her long. Make her happy—she deserves it."

"Thanks, Anna. I won't screw it up this time."

Yanami nodded. "I know you won't. Just remember, I've got a shoulder to lend if she ends up dumping you on your butt."

"I'm..."

He hesitated, then left without so much as a glance back.

Yanami stood there for a moment, staring at the empty seat across from her, before finally sinking back down, looking drained.

"Yeah. You better not finish that sentence," she muttered to herself.

There I was—an awkward spectator in this foreign land of social drama.

My best option seemed to be pretending I hadn't seen anything. So, I turned my attention back to my sundae and resumed eating, thinking that this strange theater had reached its final act.

Until...

'Huh? What's she doing?'

Yanami reached across the table and picked up the glass—the one that belonged to the guy who'd just rejected her.

'Eh, is she going to—'

Yes. She was.

She held the glass delicately in both hands, and, with some hesitation, brought the straw to her lips. Her gaze darted around nervously, eventually landing on mine.

'Ah.'

I hoped she hadn't actually recognized me, but as the blush started to creep across her cheeks, that hope evaporated.

Then came the coffee. She choked, spitting it out in a spectacular spray that covered the table. What didn't spill, she somehow managed to cough back up, her face burning bright red.

Naturally, I maintained my composure.

'I'd seen nothing.' You could tell by my intense focus on my meal and my (impressive) whistling skills. But Yanami wasn't buying it. Marching over, she dropped into the seat across from me. Because, apparently, minding our own business was just too much to ask.

"You. I know you. You're Ayanokouji-kun. We're in the same class," she accused, with an expression caught between embarrassment and irritation.

"Oh, well, if it isn't Yanami-san," I replied calmly, looking up. "What a freaky coincidence, huh?"

The blush climbed up to her ears, and she shot me a look meant to be intimidating, though the effect was rather undermined.

"Th-this better stay between us!"

"I didn't see anything, though."

"Yeah, that's right! Not a thing!" She jumped up, averting her eyes awkwardly and practically tripping over herself in the process.

In my defense, I'd been here first. Anything I happened to observe wasn't exactly my fault.

'Whatever—it was over.'

Or so I thought. Yanami pulled out her wallet, fumbling with coins. It wasn't hard to see she was strapped for cash.

"You need some help?"

"Wha?" she squeaked, her expression caught somewhere between a nod and the verge of tears.

I took a glance at her receipt. 'How much could she have possibly eaten?' The answer was: a lot. Hakamada had ordered a steak combo, and Yanami, after initially settling for soup and salad, had ended up adding a burger and dessert. Her decision-making skills, it seemed, needed some fine-tuning.

"I'll cover you," I offered. "Don't worry about paying me back."

I wasn't about to abandon a classmate in need (debatable), especially after the emotional rollercoaster she'd just been through.

"Really? You're sure? I mean, I hardly know you," she said, surprised.

'Well, as long as it gets you gone faster—' And then, for some reason, she sat back down.

"You're... not leaving?" I asked.

Yanami clasped her hands, looking off into the distance with a sigh. "Thanks, Ayanokouji-kun. I really appreciate it. Guess I had you all wrong."

Ah, yes, an insult wrapped in gratitude. I was already beginning to regret the decision.

"Not leaving, huh?"

Yanami sighed again, as if drifting into her memories. "We're childhood friends, you know."

Oh, do tell.

And she did. "When we were kids, Sousuke made me a ring out of clovers and asked me to marry him. Can you believe it?"

'The things I put up with...' Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over before she could stop them.

"Yanami?" I called out, sounding vaguely concerned.

I slid one of my extra drinks her way. She took it with a weak smile and sipped, her expression brightening, even if just a little.

"Thanks. Mh, I like this," she admitted.

"Good. That's... probably their 'Refreshing Summer Breeze' or whatever the label said," I replied, recalling some absurd tagline from the menu. "Supposedly great for 'mending broken hearts and resetting life perspectives' or something."

Yanami looked down, chuckling faintly before her face fell again. "Not like I have anyone to look good for anymore."

This was... painful. I tried to think of something, anything to steer us away from this whole mess. But it was wasted effort.

"I care about Karen-chan a lot. I do. She's a dear friend," Yanami continued, as if talking more to herself than to me. "It's just—she just showed up out of nowhere, you know? Like, were Sousuke and I not together for over a decade? What happened to that?"

She blew her nose into a napkin, then grabbed another item off my tray without a second thought.

"I'm the one he asked to marry. How is that fair? How can he just lie like that?"

I could think of a few things that weren't fair right then.

"So... how old were you when he made that promise?" I asked, holding back a sigh.

"Before elementary school, so... four or five?" she said, as if it were the most tragic thing in the world.

Yeah, that sounded about as legally binding as a scribble on a napkin.

"Do you think that counts as cheating? It has to, right? I mean, how do you just jump ship like that after one transfer student shows up with a... you know?"

Interesting angle. I hadn't pegged Hakamada as a player, but Himemiya Karen was a head-turner—no one could deny that. Yanami had her own charms, but she lacked that main-character factor usually bestowed. For that, I genuinely sympathized.

"I didn't realize you guys were actually dating," I said.

"Huh? Oh—no. I mean, did it look like we were?" she stammered, then giggled, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "People always said we were cute together, so I don't blame you for thinking that."

I blinked. "So you're not dating. How, then, is this cheating?"

Yanami cringed, flustered. "W-well, you said so yourself! We kinda were! Sorta! And we would've been if it weren't for that... that homewrecker and her... well, you know!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't pretend you're so innocent!"

The best of friends, those two sounded.

"Also!" she continued to cope. "Who knows? Maybe he'll change his mind at the last minute or something."

"The eleventh hour has passed, I'm afraid."

I sipped my parfait with all the reverence due to its excellence. Meanwhile, Yanami's goose was entirely cooked. Not that she seemed to realize.

"Wanna know something?" she asked, leaning forward. "Just between you and me, Sousuke and I have bathed together."

"Uh-huh. When you were, what, four or five?"

Sousuke and his new girlfriend would be hitting that base in no time, no doubt.

"Okay, but our families are close!" Yanami protested. "We practically have their blessing already! That's, like, one of the most important parts about a wedding..." She paused, and the tears returned with a vengeance.

"Should I... be concerned?"

Yanami let out a miserable whine. "The wedding... I even picked out a dress. And that tits-for-brains stole it from me..."

Oof. You don't imagine the dress that far ahead, or your rival wearing it instead of you.

"I know, I know, okay? It's my fault for sitting around so long. I should've been brave," she admitted, sniffing.

"You, uh, need a refill? The mint tea here's pretty good."

"No... Tastes like toothpaste," Yanami replied with a pout, then managed a small smile as she wiped her eyes dry. "Sorry. That was a bit much, huh?"

"No worries," I said, though it wasn't quite the apology I was hoping for.

"I'll be okay. As long as Sousuke's happy, I can settle for best friends."

"Okay..."

Yanami was a roller coaster of emotions, speeding through highs and lows while I sat there eating my parfait, listening as patiently as possible. I'd read enough rom-com manga to recognize the type—those heroines whose ships would never dock, whose love stories were bound to sink.

They were the losers.

Yanami Anna was a losing heroine.