Ah, romantic comedies—the most overused genre in anime. Nearly all of them get called "mid," and only a handful ever reach a level that could truly be called good.
But what if you could see one happening in real life?
"Want to exchange Line?" Shirou asked.
"Sure," Kazuhiko replied.
A moment later, the entire cafeteria began to buzz with murmurs.
"Hey, it's the student council members," one student whispered.
(They must be popular...) Shirou thought.
"Ah, it's them," Kazuhiko muttered.
"Who are they?" Shirou asked, casually glancing in the same direction.
"You don't know? They're from the student council," Kazuhiko said, pointing subtly.
"That one with silver hair is Alisa—she's the treasurer. The girl beside her is her sister, Maria Mikhailovna Kujou. And the one with the long hair is Yuki Sou, the public relations officer."
"Eh, is that so? So why is everyone reacting like they're actual idols?"
Kazuhiko chuckled. "Emiya, look again."
Shirou turned, this time paying closer attention.
Ah. Now he saw it.
The three of them didn't just look like idols—they might as well have been idols. Their presence alone seemed to draw the eye of everyone around them. From their posture to their uniforms, everything felt almost too polished for a typical school day.
In fact, all three of them were far more beautiful than most idols out there. They weren't just attractive—they were striking.
And as Kazuhiko added in a quieter tone, "They're pretty much the top of the school's beauty rankings. Though Maria's in third year, so she's ranked separately."
"Now that I look at them again," Shirou said, narrowing his eyes a little, "they don't really look Japanese… except maybe that Yuki girl. And—wait, aren't those two's names kind of similar? Are they sisters or something?"
"Yeah, they are," Kazuhiko replied, casually munching on a piece of curry bread. "Apparently, they're both half-Japanese, half-Russian."
"Huh… makes sense now," Shirou muttered. Their features, posture, and even how they carried themselves—it all had this graceful, foreign air that stood out even more now that he noticed it.
They watched as Maria quietly excused herself from the group, walking off with composed grace. That left only two—Yuki and Alisa—standing in the middle of the cafeteria, looking like fashion models basking under a spotlight.
The two of them made their way to the food counter.
"Set A, please," said Yuki.
"May I get Set C?" Alisa followed.
With their trays in hand, the two began scanning the cafeteria for a place to sit. Yuki, at the front, paused as her eyes locked onto a specific target.
A black-haired boy seated casually with his friends.
A subtle smirk curved her lips.
The boy glanced over... and immediately turned his head away, pretending he hadn't seen her at all.
Yuki didn't hesitate.
She strode over to him with confidence and leaned forward slightly. "Masachika-kun, may I sit here?" she asked, her voice carrying just the right amount of teasing grace.
he moment Yuki spoke, Shirou's attention was caught—not by her words, but by the slightest twitch of Alisa's expression. Just for a second, her brow furrowed, subtle and fleeting. Yet to someone like Shirou, who had long grown used to reading people in silence, it was as clear as day. Still, Yuki had the others' attention, including Masachika's, and no one seemed to notice.
"Yeah, I guess you can. You guys are fine with it too, right?" Masachika responded casually.
"Ah, o-ooh.""Yeah, okay.""Thank you very much."
With a bright, graceful smile, Yuki thanked the group and walked around the table, sliding in next to Masachika as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Moments later, Alisa took her place near Takeshi, diagonally across from Masachika—but again, Shirou's eyes were on her. Her movements were precise, controlled. Measured.
"Aah, as expected, Masachika-kun asked for the same thing too, didn't he?" Yuki said cheerfully, glancing at the identical bowls of mapo ramen before them.
The contrast was jarring. A refined young lady, elegant and composed, now seated with a tray of spicy, inexpensive ramen. Even Shirou blinked at the mismatch.
"Suou-san even… You do eat that kind of food, don't you?" Takeshi asked, his tone caught somewhere between awe and confusion.
Shirou raised an eyebrow. Typical reaction. He could already see where this was going.
Yuki smiled wryly as she pulled a hair band from her pocket and tied her hair back. "You don't have to be so humble, you know? It's not like we don't know each other, we are in the same year after all."
"No, well… Yes," Takeshi replied awkwardly.
"Besides, I eat ramen too, you know? I don't eat ramen at home, but I often go out to eat ramen on my days off."
"He-hee~ that's unexpected, huh," Hikaru muttered, clearly impressed.
Shirou watched the two boys fumble like it was their first time speaking to a girl, let alone one like Yuki. To her credit, she handled it all with practiced grace. She gave a polite "Let's eat" and elegantly began slurping her ramen. Even that looked staged to perfection.
Beside her, Masachika and Takeshi exchanged glances—silent conversation flowing between them. Shirou didn't need to read their expressions to understand the meaning. It was obvious. The whole thing played out like a scene straight out of a romantic comedy.
Except, again, there was that tension.
Shirou's eyes drifted to Alisa. She hadn't spoken much. She was quietly eating her set meal, but her brow had furrowed again. Slight, controlled, but unmistakable. A second wrinkle now. It deepened as Masachika and Yuki's banter continued.
"It's delicious, isn't it? I think it could be a little spicier though," Yuki commented.
"I know, right? I need to add more chili oil," Masachika replied.
"Although we have salt and soy sauce here, there's no chili oil, is there? Maybe we could consider it for the next student council agenda."
"Hey, you're mixing public and private affairs."
"It's just a joke," Yuki giggled.
A lighthearted exchange. Everyone around them smiled. But not Alisa.
Shirou's gaze narrowed.
The wrinkle between her brows deepened slightly again before she quickly closed her eyes, took a breath, and smoothed her expression. When she opened her mouth to speak, her voice was calm—too calm.
Shirou leaned back slightly in his seat, silent, thoughtful.
It might've looked like a slice-of-life comedy to everyone else.But to him, it felt more like a storm was quietly brewing beneath the surface.
"It's like a romcom situation, right?" Kazuhiko suddenly said.
"Eh?" Shirou blinked, surprised. It was almost like the guy had read his mind.
"Yeah, like… we're just the side characters, watching the protagonist have his moment with the potential heroine."
"You mean that Masachika guy?"
"I mean, who else?" Nukuzumi Kazuhiko replied bluntly—completely unaware that, in the near future, he'd find himself in the exact same situation.
"You're a pretty sharp guy, aren't you?"
"No, not really. It just becomes too obvious when you see this kind of thing every day."
"Now that I think about it… what class are you from?"
"Class C-2."
"Eh? That's my class."
"Eh?"
"Eh?"