Efforts and Changes: Honoka Kousaka
"Do you… do you ever get lonely, Honoka?"
"Eh?" You have to stop completely—put down your pencil, rest the front legs of your chair back on the floor, keep your eyes on Kotori—because you don't understand what she means, and you want to understand.
How could you possibly be lonely, surrounded as you are by everyone in μ's?
The question is just… incomprehensible.
But Kotori looks genuinely worried (averting her eyes from yours, frowning, tapping her pencil—these signs that you've learned to recognize as signs), so maybe you're missing something important, again.
It's at times like this that you wish you were sharper—just a bit, only so that you'd stop accidentally hurting your friends.
"I mean…," again Kotori hesitates; you rearrange your face into something that's hopefully more encouraging (hopefully).
When she doesn't continue, you have to resist the urge to barrel on with your clueless reply, because if you do that she'll let it go and you'll be stuck with a strangely empty feeling afterwards. And you'll feel dismissed, too, as if you were a child who doesn't know any better.
Anyway, the point is that Kotori asked you a question for unknown reasons, and you want to reassure her, somehow—like, really reassure her, because you really aren't lonely.
Taking a deep breath, Kotori says, "Remember when Umi and I told you that we're dating? That she and I are going out?"
You nod.
"Okay, well, we kind of just… assumed you knew what we meant by dating…."
You frown. You know what dating is; it's a bit insulting, really, that Kotori thinks you're so completely clueless after so many years of being friends.
"I'm not saying you don't know, Honoka," Kotori hastens to add, undoubtedly deciphering your expressions with enviable ease, "but, in a way… I mean, I want to ask… have you ever felt the need for a romantic partner? O-or a—" and here she reddens and smiles peculiarly at a vague point in the corner—"a sexual partner?"
"No," you say, tilting your head because you'd thought this was obvious, but apparently not.
"Ah."
She doesn't say anything more. She simply stares at you, and you stare back. There's a point in there, somewhere, that you know you missed. It makes you want to snap.
"Do you know what that's called?"
You rub your forehead, replying, "Aromantic and asexual… right?" Maybe this has some relevance to the question…? Does she mean to say that these things make you lonely?
Her eyebrows shoot up (again, you're offended, and maybe just a bit hurt).
Frankly, you don't see the problem, because being ace and aro isn't what frustrates you about yourself. It's literally everything else about interacting with people that gets you upset, though you do find some nice parallels in romance tropes.
Like that thing about mutual pining because of misunderstanding, except for you it's more of just mutual misunderstanding in general—maybe it's just you, though.
"Then I guess my question is pointless," Kotori laughs and shakes her head. She's smiling again—her shoulders relax and she turns back to her homework.
Well, that's as close as reassuring as you're going to get, so you might as well turn back to your homework, too.
It's not like you, Honoka Kousaka, can change.
"You know, I honestly thought you had a crush on me in the beginning," Maki laughs one sunny afternoon in the music room.
For some reason, it reminds you of your non-conversation with Kotori the other day.
Maybe because you don't understand why Maki would say something like that? Aside from the fact that Maki is as good at talking about feelings as you are at reading people, it's not something that you ever think about in the first place.
In the beginning, you fell in love with Maki's music, not really Maki herself. Of course, from the beginning you have loved Maki to the moon and back—or to the sun and back! Or even to Pluto and back!—but the distinction between loving someone and being in love with someone is quite clear in your mind.
It's like loving sweets-making and being in love with bread-making.
Distinctions and metaphors are really nice (as long as they're not ambiguous, because ambiguity is your mortal enemy).
"Hello, are you listening?"
You grin, "Sorry, I went off on a tangent."
Maki scoffs, and she mutters something under her breath.
You ask her to please repeat that.
"I said—" Maki pauses, frowning at the piano keys, though you have an inkling that she's not really frowning at the keys. "I said," she continues in a softer tone, "that I'm sorry for misunderstanding. I know what it's like to be misunderstood and yet be incapable of rectifying the error."
Incapable of rectifying the error.
She must see something in your expression, because she elaborates—reluctantly, according to her angled chin and her fidgeting with her hair—"Well, I don't understand how you're so artless, but I know how frustrating it is to have the words trapped on the tip of your tongue.
"Somehow things don't translate perfectly from your thoughts to reality."
"Artless?" you echo for lack of a good response to the rest of Maki's statement—
Because she's said it aloud so perfectly: the words are on the tip of your tongue and they're stuck there on that brink, no matter how hard you try to force them out.
Maki plays a few notes on the piano, melancholic, and shrugs when her hands fall still.
There's something you missed, somewhere—but, but Maki has the same problem as you. She, too, has trouble saying what she wants to say.
So it doesn't upset you here. She doesn't expect you to fill in the gaps.
"I thought you had a crush on me in the beginning," Maki repeats, "because you were so open with your admiration for my music that your entire face would light up. Then you were straightforward about what you wanted from me, so straightforward that I couldn't believe you were being honest."
Laughing, she says, "I can't believe it took me a while to realize that you don't have a deceptive bone in your body." She shakes her head and begins to play again, a happy song this time.
But that's not true.
You could tell Maki about your deceptions—like the time you pretended not to notice the argument over who would be μ's leader, and the countless times you've turned a blind eye to Umi's jealousy, and even the time you glossed over the fact that you'd caught Eli and Nozomi in a compromising position.
You could tell her all that, and more, if you think long enough. But this is something you'd rather not admit to. It's… your shield against expectations, because if people knew that you do notice things, they'd question why you don't always notice what's going on around you, and you don't have an explanation for that.
Right now, it's enough that Maki understands the difficulty you have expressing yourself—it's more than you've ever had.
"Honoka, may I have a moment of your time?" Eli stops you after practice.
Waving away Kotori and Umi's offer to wait for you, you say, "Sure!" You don't spend nearly enough time with your upperclassmen, after all.
Everyone else, however, leaves the rooftop a bit more quickly than you'd expected. Only Nozomi pauses, exchanging some sort of look with Eli, before smiling at you and leaving.
Then it's just you and Eli—that's the sign you need to understand that this is something important and sensitive. It's not going to be a casual conversation between friends, necessarily.
Umi taught you that. Or, well, you've learned after a lot of trial and error the rough meaning of Umi's habits.
Eli, you've noticed, is a bit like Umi (it's only their shared tendency toward strictness that tipped you off to their similarity, honestly). But there are—as always—some things that confuse you, so you can't be too confident.
"Honoka—" Eli says your name with weight, as if there's a meaning hidden in there—"I want you to be the next student council president."
"Eh?"
No one in μ's talks about the third years' impending graduation: you don't because it hurts, and in this you think everyone else feels the same.
This isn't exactly breaking that unspoken rule, yet there's something you're not seeing, you're sure. There must be, because Eli's request may be simple but you can't for the life of you fathom why she would choose you for her successor, when there are others far, far more reliable for the post.
"As you know, the term for all offices in the student council is coming to an end," Eli explains. Her arms cross behind her back and her shoulders are square and she's not exactly smiling. "I am authorized by the school to choose who will follow me as student council president—and you are my choice, Honoka."
You nod; that's not the part you don't understand, so you wait for her to continue.
It seems, though, that she wants you to say something first.
"Uh, well, thank you for thinking so highly of me, Eli," you waffle, shifting your weight, because what else is there to say?
"You don't want the position?" Eli questions, frowning—disbelievingly, maybe. Definitely disappointed, her drooping shoulders say.
You shrug. You don't know why she'd be disappointed, since it's better for everyone involved that you not take such an important position. Eli really should've given this more thought.
"Please, Honoka," Eli insists, bringing her hands to loosely hold your own, "give it some thought, okay? I don't need to turn in my nomination until the end of the school day on Friday, so think about it and give me your answer then—I'll respect your decision, I promise."
Eli isn't one for physical contact. At least, that's what her stiffness implies, but Eli isn't a cold person.
She means it.
She wants you to be the next student council president.
You, Honoka Kousaka.
Because you don't understand, and you want to understand, you ask, "Why?"
"Why not?" Eli returns and her eyebrows rise. "You have charisma, your attitude is uplifting, your heart is in the right place, and you have a head for decision making. I think you would make an excellent student council president, Honoka."
Your heart is in the right place.
Isn't that what Umi says whenever you mess up but she can't stay mad at you? Like it's a consolation prize, offered to appease you and to excuse your clumsiness.
"Okay. I'll think about it," though you're certain you're going to turn down the offer anyway. Still, you'll pretend to consider it, just to spare Eli's feelings.
"Horosho! Thank you, Honoka."
"How'd it go?" Hanayo asks with a soft smile, sympathetic in your shared plight.
Grinning, you announce, "Not a single kilo gained! Umi says I'm doing a good job of staying on track. And yours?"
"That's good! It's the same for me, too," Hanayo reports.
"Then," you lean forward, smirking conspiratorially, "let's celebrate! There's this special sale at a bakery near my house."
Hanayo groans at your suggestion—more distressed than exasperated, you think, because her lips pinch together and her hands start fidgeting. It's not accompanied by an eye-roll, which is usually what Umi does when she's annoyed with your antics, or a smile, which is Kotori's response.
Okay, so all that means Hanayo isn't comfortable with the idea of indulging.
Weight doesn't really matter to you; you only pay attention to it because you've been taught—by your friends and school and magazines—that it should have a certain level of importance.
"Or we can go window shopping! Try on some cute outfits!"
Cheering right up, Hanayo adds, "Then can we invite Rin, too?" There's a wavering smile, maybe uncertain, definitely shy.
You nod enthusiastically; it's not an inconvenience—the more the merrier, by your count. There's nothing quite like being surrounded by friends. Not even watching a fresh batch of rolls bake is as heart-warming.
Again, Hanayo's smile widens, and even though it's such a little thing, what you've done, you mentally pat yourself on the back for getting this right.
You need to cherish all the things you get right, no matter how easy or insignificant it may seem to either of you.
"Let me just text Rin, then, and we can wait for her at the gates, if that's okay…?"
"Sure thing!"
Hanayo promptly hunches over her cell phone, and the two of you slowly walk away from the nurse's office.
She giggles at something—it's something of a mystery to you, how she's so timid, yet confidence hides beneath that deep layer of shyness.
Shyness has never been a problem for you; quite the opposite, in fact. You're usually too loud, too outgoing, too close for people.
It's like what Maki said, actually: you're earnest and you're artless, and somehow that puts others off. Most people look at you a little oddly for not fitting in, for being so unapologetically different.
You'd be apologetic if you could, though. You really would be.
"Hey, nya~" Rin greets you both as she jogs up to you, her bag slung over her shoulder and her grin relaxed. "Good job on keepin' fit! I knew you could both do it, nya!"
"T-thanks, Rin," Hanayo replies, a blush darkening her cheeks and making her eyes sparkle.
You thank Rin, too, even if you don't understand it.
Cherish what you can do.
And what does that entail? Well….
"D-do you think we could stop by an idol shop on the way, maybe?" Hanayo fiddles with the edges of her jacket sleeves.
Fidgeting is a sign of nervousness and of boredom (you've often been told that your fidgeting gives you away when you're restless), though why would Hanayo be nervous or bored? Ah, maybe you can rule out boredom—that's not likely to be the problem.
But you just nod—you're not completely tactless—and say, "Lead the way, then!"
Since Rin and Hanayo are childhood friends, they walk and talk with a familiarity akin to that buried in your muscles for kneading dough.
It's as natural as breathing, really.
This must be what it's like, to see yourself and Kotori and Umi interacting: there are layers, inside jokes, subtle messages that go over your head, and they look so at ease with each other.
(Except you know better, from personal experience.)
"What do you think, Honoka?" Hanayo asks, slowing down to match your pace even though you'd purposefully retreated from their conversation. "Would pastel blue be a good color on Rin?"
Rin socks your shoulder, playfully threatening, "You'd better say no, nya! It'd totally clash with my hair!"
With a grin, you reply, "Kotori's the person to ask about that kind of thing, but I think you'd look good in pastel blue, Rin! Maybe we should get you a hat in that color to prove it, hm?"
Hanayo nods enthusiastically and Rin groans.
So you find yourself in a boutique somewhere in the shopping district, trying on hats both jokingly and seriously.
Isn't it funny, how easily they engage you into their conversation? You fit in so well, and there's no awkwardness, or pressure, or anything of the sort.
What makes Hanayo and Rin stand apart from the others? Why is it easier with them than with Kotori and Umi, your closest friends?
You have a worrisome thought, then: maybe it's easier simply because Hanayo and Rin haven't known you long enough to know how much you mess up.
They don't know that you've spent your entire life trying to learn how to be sociable; Hanayo and Rin only know you as their seemingly reliable upperclassman.
They all think you single-handedly constructed μ's from the dredges of hopelessness.
It's not like you're deaf, after all. Just a little bit oblivious, so yes, it took you a while to realize that they have something of a double standard for you.
But Hanayo and Rin in particular have unconsciously put you on a pedestal you don't deserve.
Once they do find out, maybe their behavior towards you will change, like how Umi started scolding you more the older the both of you got. They'll see that what you have is pure dumb luck and an inability to know when to give up.
The thought is enough to force you to stop, right in the middle of trying on a dress, to call through the changing room door, "Thank you, Hanayo and Rin. It means a lot to me that you joined me today."
Here, in this little space, your voice resonates, and you notice that your voice is… solemn.
Are you sad?
Maybe you are.
"Nya, we don't need thanks for that, Honoka! We're always glad to hang out!"
"R-right! It's fun hanging out with you, Honoka, it really, really is!"
You honestly don't see it. But right now, you don't have it in you to argue the point, and you're thankful that they can't see you wipe away a few tears.
"Good morning, Honoka! You're earlier than usual."
You tilt your head and laugh, "I'd say the same about you, Nozomi!"
It puts a little dent in your plans to come up here to think, but you're not one to turn down company; it's a comfort you can't bring yourself to forgo.
That's what Hanayo and Rin have taught you.
You're nothing without your friends.
"I decided to check up on a few things around the shrine," Nozomi explains, gesturing around the grounds. "I haven't had shrine duty for the past few days, but I like to keep tabs on how it's going, you know?"
"Mhm, I see," you say for lack of a better answer.
Nozomi, of course, forgives your apparent disinterest with a friendly laugh and shake of her head. Nozomi is great like that—she readily forgives your blunders.
"I just came here to think," you explain yourself, abruptly having the urge to bounce your thoughts off of someone else, and who better than Nozomi? "I mean, I feel that I've already made my decision… I'm just not… certain."
Nozomi hums as she takes a seat on the shrine steps, and you follow her.
"See, I think what bothers me the most…." You hesitate. Right now, strangely, it's not that you can't say it; you don't know if you want to say it out loud.
You stare at the people trickling about, and you wonder: will anyone ever understand you completely? Maki was partway there, but… there's something about you that doesn't quite fit.
"Go on," Nozomi gently prompts.
You can tell Nozomi, right? And, being Eli's closest friend (among other things), Nozomi might even have an answer for you.
"Eli asked me to be the next student council president."
"Ah," Nozomi nods. "That."
She smiles; you're not sure what kind of smile that is—
"Hey, Nozomi?" your mouth says before you can quite reel in the impulse.
"Yes, Honoka?" Her expression changes, settles into something calm, and she looks at you with undivided attention.
People are like mille-feuille: thin layers, almost impossible to separate from one another.
You dare ask, trusting (hoping) that you'll be safe, "What was that expression, Nozomi?"
She looks at you for a long moment.
Her eyes roam over your face, a bit like Kotori does when she wants to pull the answer from you when you can't give it yourself.
"Wry," Nozomi answers at last—it's not the answer she must have found in your expression—mimicking the previous twist in her lips and that shadow in her eyes. "See? It's like… being amused by a painful truth."
You frown. "But why would you be amused at something that hurts you?"
"It's a bit like making fun of yourself. You haven't quite accepted the truth, but you've acknowledged it, which is a pretty important step."
Wry. Accepted versus acknowledged.
Maybe you've seen this expression somewhere else before. Not Umi, or Kotori, you don't think. Rin—yes, Rin, her smile that sometimes didn't fit in with your previous categories. Maki, too, sometimes. And maybe you've worn that face yourself, sometimes.
You don't ask, however, for the reason behind Nozomi's wry smile. It's not your place.
"Honoka," Nozomi says in an echo of Eli's voice.
"Y-yes?" You're not sure you like hearing your name said with such heaviness. It simply doesn't fit with who you are. There isn't any meaningfulness to you.
"I can't tell you if you should or shouldn't take the position, Honoka. The cards say that it's your decision alone—you have to find the answer to the question you don't want to ask."
Her expression is wry again.
Is it wry on your behalf? Has she realized that you, Honoka Kousaka, cannot change? That this is a futile question?
"Oh, thank goodness you're here, Honoka! Umi, Honoka's here already, with Nozomi!"
"Well," Nozomi says, motioning with her chin in the direction of Kotori's voice, "it looks like the others are here."
"What brings you to the great Nico Nico Nii's sanctuary?"
"I'd like some advice, Nico." You close the clubroom door behind you.
Nico jumps up, beaming, "No one gives advice like the great Nico Nico Nii! I'll be sure to meet all your Nico Nico needs!" She gives you her signature pose.
"Um," is all that comes out of your mouth; you turn to stare at Nico's vast collection of idol merchandise (though Hanayo's is catching up!) while you try to collect your wayward thoughts. Why are you here to begin with?
Luckily, Nico seems to take your lost silence as a sign that this is something… different than the usual, because she sighs, loudly, "Geez, fine, take a seat and spill your guts to me if that's how you want to go about it!"
It makes you laugh nervously as you sit across from Nico.
She drums her fingers against the table, waiting for you to say something.
Well, you might as well just jump right in, right? Plan or no plan, you have a nice streak of good luck going for you.
But then the first thing you manage to say is: "I want to know why you didn't give up on your dream of becoming an idol."
She stares at you, mouth open, but she quickly snaps, "I don't have to explain myself to you," in the same way that Yukiho and Maki do, when they don't really mean it.
"Please, Nico," you place your hands on the table, palms flat, "I need to know why."
You'd like to tell her that everything's telling you to give up, that there are so many people more deserving, that you can't possibly change, and that there's this yearning in your chest you don't know what to do with.
And, as it always happens, you can't say what you want to say.
"Haven't you realized, though?" Nico scowls. "I did give up. I holed myself up in this clubroom, I collected all this merchandise—" she sweeps her arms to encompass the clubroom—"and I became bitter.
"Only μ's was able to bring my dream back from the dead. If anything, I should be asking you why you didn't give up even after Eli, the chairperson, and I told you to give it up. When the whole auditorium was completely empty, you kept on going. When your ranking was at rock-bottom, you gave it your all—you pulled through. And even after you gave up, you had the audacity to come back!"
Nico's eyes blaze; they bore into you. Is she accusing you? Is she indignant that, after everything you've been through, you still don't understand?
"So you tell me, Honoka."
You don't answer.
There is no answer. There isn't even a question.
"I guess it's partly why I'm so invested in my dream," Nico admits—confides?—with her head turned away from you now.
You lean forward to listen better (maybe this is salvageable, after all).
"After being told, over and over again, that I can't be an idol, I've developed something of a contrarian response: I'll become an idol just to spite them! Just to prove to myself and to them that I can."
She chuckles (pained? Wry? Bitter?).
"Do you know that nursery rhyme, 'Mary, Mary, quite contrary'?"
You shake your head. You can memorize recipes no problem, but everything else seems to go in one ear and out the other, and what truly matters remains buried under layers of pretending that everything's okay—that's your painful truth.
It's something hopeless.
Nico shrugs, "It's something of a taunt, honestly, but that first line's the gist of what I mean. I'm a contrarian: I'll do the opposite for the principle of it.
"But, really, Honoka… you already have the answer, don't you? It's this, and more."
"Hey," Yukiho knocks on the side of your door, "you've been a bit distracted lately, big sis."
Too tired to move from your position, you simply roll your head towards her.
"Want help?" She joins you on the bed, her back towards you; you turn your head to face the ceiling again.
Yukiho, your little sister, is far more perceptive than you are.
She's had to help you lots of times, when you have arguments with Umi or Kotori that puzzle you to no end, or when someone says something and it tumbles around in your head, gnawing at you, or when you want to test yourself to see how well you can recognize body language and other cues.
That last one is particularly important for you.
Even though you're the older sister, it often feels like Yukiho is the one taking care of you instead of the other way around.
"Do you think I'd make a good student council president, Yukiho?"
"…I dunno, big sis. Probably."
You scowl, "What kind of answer is that?"
"Well, it's hard to tell, big sis. You'd have to look at what sort of responsibilities you'll have and what else is expected, though not necessarily required. But you're dedicated and you have lots of people who'd be willing to help you out."
Ah, but that's the problem: you have to rely on others.
More often than not, you end up causing more trouble for them in trying to help.
It must be a minor miracle that μ's has flourished so much despite your inexperienced care and bumbling ways.
You're not meant for responsibility. You should probably just stick with μ's and stop pushing your luck so much.
"It's okay to ask for help, big sis," Yukiho tells you for what is probably the millionth time. "So what if it's troublesome? You are worth the effort, big sis."
That brings the burgeoning resentment in your chest to a halt.
You are worth the effort.
At the end of the day… you are worth the effort. It's as simple as that, and you don't know why it's such a revelation.
It's true that you have a hidden reserve of bitterness, of resentment, of insecurity. It's true that you have pessimism buried beneath your optimism. It's true that you're oblivious, airheaded, and clumsy.
But hasn't μ's shown you that you can be more than Honoka Kousaka? Haven't you been the unanimous glue of your school's idol group? Haven't you grown and helped others grow alongside you?
Don't you remember the outpouring of support from your entire school the day of that first Love Live? Don't you remember the hours spent over lyrics, costumes, choreography? Don't you remember all the emotions—from wallowing in self-pity when Kotori was set to leave to soaring unbelievable heights at winning the Love Live—that you've experienced so far?
All of that was worth the effort.
It's not that big of a leap to say that you are, too.
Yukiho laughs, "See, big sis? Sure, it takes a while, and a lot of effort. You have it all in you, though, big sis.
"Just keep doing what you've been doing. You'll get there—at your own pace and on your own terms."
"I will," you answer. "I'm not going to change now that I know."
"E-eh?"
Something like excitement flutters in your chest.
"I have something to say."
Umi looks you, listening in that intent way of hers, and nods.
You see the way she grips the edge of the table.
Umi's preparing herself for more of your crazy ideas, isn't she?
"I'm going to be student council president," you tell Umi (and you clench your fists when she frowns), "I know I won't be the best at it, and I'll slack off, and I'll make mistakes, and I'll depend on you guys a lot, but—but I'm going to prove that I can do it."
This is where it culminates: it's 'we don't need thanks for that' and feelings on the tip of your tongue that you've embedded in your very being, as familiar to you as recipes for rye and ideas for using sour dough.
"I've—I've got lots of things that my friends gave me, you see, and, and I want to put them to good use!"
What are you saying?
You smile—wry with questions you don't want to ask. It feels almost alien, possibly because you don't often pay attention to what your face is doing.
Umi's eyes are wide. You've taken her by surprise, haven't you? Just as you've surprised Kotori, Maki, Eli, Hanayo, Rin, Nozomi, Nico, and even Yukiho.
It seems that Honoka Kousaka isn't entirely predictable.
"It's worth the effort," you say—
About yourself, and about being student council president, and about trying to be better.
"There are parts of me that don't fit in," like not needing a partner, but always needing friends, and catching some things but not others, and other layers that take a while to reach, "but you're my friend, Umi. That means something—right?"
You can't help the squeak of insecurity in that last word.
See, Umi's been… the biggest symbol… the indicator—Umi's always been the model of who you should be.
Elementary teachers (though their names and faces have long since faded in your memory, their words stay with you) would often tell you to be more like Umi. Your mother, sometimes, would idly wish that you were more like Umi. Your friends, your fans, who admire Umi's responsible aura, who seek Umi's help and commend you for your charisma and your heart in the right place.
And you, yourself, who have watched Umi never give up in her attempts to reform you; where others gave up sooner or later, Umi has spent years trying to turn you into someone better adjusted.
That's one of the things that you keep close to your heart, like the secret ingredient to some wildly successful recipe: you have mixed feelings about it.
"It does," she agrees.
Umi smiles—sad. There are even tears in her eyes!
"U-Umi—"
"I'm so, so sorry I didn't realize how you felt, Honoka," is what Umi says. "It was never my intention to make you feel inferior to me, to everyone else."
Inferior.
Ah. Is that what this weight in your chest has been?
"I only wanted to make things easier for you—that's why I've been so harsh. I've only ever wanted to help you, even when it got frustrating. I shouldn't have taken your attitude for granted, however. That is truly an unforgivable error on my part, Honoka."
Here is a prime example of your inability to see: a misunderstanding that spans years, that has lived on the tip of your tongue and on the edges of your smiles, is all that this is?
You close your eyes.
You could scream in frustration right now.
"I thought you were trying to change me," you say, and your voice wobbles.
"No," comes Umi's voice, closer than you expected. She's kneeling right beside your chair when you open your eyes. "And I thought you didn't care."
"No," you echo, hunching over to clutch at her hands. "I do care."
She smiles and squeezes your hands in hers—have you forgiven each other? Is that what this means? Have you said enough?
"Let us go," Umi stands, pulling you up with her, "let's tell Eli you've decided."
You stop; your arm goes taut as Umi keeps walking for a moment before she glances back at you, questioning.
You can do it, can't you?
There's one thing left to say, that you've wanted to say for ages and ages but never could.
"I'm not going to change. I'm going to learn, and maybe I'll get better, but I'm not going to change."
And Umi replies, "I wouldn't have you any other way, Honoka."
/\
a/n:
For the record, I love Umi, HonoKoto, and HonoMaki, but that wasn't the point of this story, lol. Also for the record, this wasn't meant to imply that Honoka has Asperger's, though it certainly can be interpreted that way if you so wish.
Please leave a review! Any concerns, questions, suggestions, etc. are appreciated!