Chapter 1: Hate Mail
Dear Hotaru,
I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, for all these years, where I've been sending you this crap nonstop, it must seem to you. I can imagine how you try not to let it hurt, how you don't read it until midday because that way you forget it by evening but your morning isn't ruined. I've been so selfish…I will stop, I swear to you, on the friendship we once had.
Psych.
No, it's not going to stop. Did I get you for a minute? No, I couldn't have. Heartlessness does have its perks, I suppose. You probably didn't even believe me. Then again, maybe you did – my being such a foolishly innocent, back-town country girl and all. Of course, my mail does say otherwise…I suppose you calculated the outcome, weighing the evidence, before you finished reading the list. It must be so easy when feelings don't get in the way.
I'm continuing my efforts at being your disciple, just so you know. It's worked pretty well – the whole town hates me now. That was a difficult task, let me assure you, my being the sweetest girl in the third grade and all – but with your unfailing methods by my side, how could I lose? Cold- check. Sarcastic- check. Unhelpful- check. Sneering- check. Of course, I made sure to insult everyone who talked to me last week, so of course, no one's going to try anymore next week. Finally, I've reached that point.
In its odd, perverse way, it works. Now I only have you to be angry at. Isn't that lucky? I only get angry with the one who doesn't care. In a twisted way, isn't that kindness? I'll never be your perfect disciple. I'll always have a flaw. None can approach you, O untouchable.
I can and will. I know you still get these. Don't forget that you have a flaw, Hotaru. You always will. You'll always have me. I once hoped that that sentence would be a testament to friendship, but it's more interesting to see it as a statement of evidence that once, you did try to care, and that it didn't work. The great Imai Hotaru has a weakness, and it's a stupid village bumpkin on whom she tried her first experiments at any kind of a relationship! How laughable.
Don't worry, Hotaru. I'll stand up to them. I'll tell them that we're best friends forever, and that I'm not an experiment. I'll tell them that you really do care.
Oh, wait, you don't want me to, of course. I'm sorry for suggesting something that would embarrass you. It should be more along the lines of, "I used to lend her money all the time!" shouldn't it? That would fit.
I'm still here for you. I understand.
Yours truly and yours always,
Sakura Mikan
Mikan put down the pen and stretched her fingers, looking through them idly at the light that shone through from her desk lamp. Face blank, she broke the mesh of fingers that had caught the light, and looked away.
She looked back at the letter on her desktop, and folded it up neatly, making sure to match up the edges. She pulled out the bottom drawer of the desk, rummaging a little until she found a pink envelope with a slight bulge. Smiling slightly, she took out the small packet inside it – a sachet of lavender to scent the envelope – and rummaged some more until she found a silver glitter pen. For the next ten minutes, she doodled meticulous curlicues on the envelope, and on the letter itself to match, until she had developed a casually artistic border on all the stationery, with carefully styled accents. She decided that adding gold cupids would be excessive, and would ruin the prank, and slipped the letter inside, sealing it with a dot of gum neatly spread to cover the flap's edge- so that the border would be ruined. She addressed the letter first in black ink, and then accented the letters with more silver. Then, unable to resist, she fished out the gold pen and put a tiny firefly in the right-hand corner. She took the small scissors from the corner of her desk, snipped three tiny clips of hair – so small they could be fur – from the tip of a stray lock at the edge of her vision, and slipped them into the envelope through the corner, careful not to wrinkle it.
She got up, walked out of the house – nodding without turning at her grandfather – and onto the road, briskly turning to head to the center of the town. She didn't move to adjust her light clothing to keep out the chilly wind, but instead set a brisk pace along the narrow road, hair flapping out behind her, the unfortunate lock clinging to her forehead, refusing to recede as if angry with her for spoiling its looks. She laughed at the odd thought, eliciting a couple odd looks from a passing crowd of old ladies.
The letter was in the post box and she was back inside before forty minutes had passed, smiling to herself in the quiet comfort of her room. She wrapped herself in a patchwork quilt, picked up a book, turned on the iPod nestled in its iHome in her room, and settled in to read until she fell asleep.
As she drifted off, she put a hand out to turn off the music, and then the light.
