Update 2 (12/20/2010): More thematic consistency, and hopefully better descriptive work.
"Good Morning! Get up, sleepyhead! Today is another beautiful—"
BAM!
The alarm clock shut up.
Touma hated the thing. Another one of her brothers' inspired gifts to her, it oozed a level of saccharine cheer that was downright sacrilegious this early in the morning. It was also covered with the designs of a character from a certain magical girl manga she not only didn't read but actively detested. Not that her brothers would know something like that.
Regardless, it served its purpose, and she couldn't be bothered to replace it, so it stayed.
She sat up, and blearily surveyed her domain. As the only girl of the family, it had always been her prerogative to have her own room, though that had stopped mattering when they moved into the place they lived now, which had rooms for everyone. This was also the reason her brothers eschewed waking her in the morning, requiring her to have an alarm clock. Not that they would be as reliable as an alarm clock anyway.
She started to yawn, then stopped herself and punched the wall next to her, hard, in sheer frustration.
Damn it, just when I had finally fallen asleep!
She had spent most of the night tossing and turning, reading manga to try and get her eyes tired, browsing the internet—doing everything but successfully falling sleep. Every time she managed to doze off, she would remember what today was, and her eyes would snap open.
Definitely not a good way to start the day.
Well, I'll get through today somehow, she thought resignedly.
She sighed.
I might as well stop putting it off.
Pushing herself out of her bed, she began to change, picking up the pieces of her school uniform from where they lay scattered around her room. She would do this quickly, like always, she thought. After all, linger too much, and the temptation of renewed sleep might be too much—even if doubted she would be able to fall asleep again.
After pulling off her pajama shirt, she paused briefly to consider the newest additions to her wardrobe. These bras, too, had technically been a gift from Natsuki, since he had paid for them. As the case was, however, it was Haruka who had stood behind him the entire time as he told Touma about the need to buy them. It was she who wore a grim look and shoved each time his voice trailed off or he left out some detail. It was also Haruka who had done the necessary measuring and helped her to pick out the designs she wanted, while Natsuki had gratefully fled to the video game section.
No credit to him for this gift, then.
She wondered, not for the first time, what it would have been like having an older sister, or a mother to look up to.
Whether she would have turned out different.
Arrgh, whatever!
She buttoned up her dress shirt a bit more aggressively than was necessary.
She had gifted her collection of oversized shirts to charity once there was no longer a Fujioka to hide her...assets from. Here again, it was Haruka who had dragged her through the paces of buying another set of shirts, this time because she had asked. It had been frustrating, because the tastes of Haruka, Chiaki, and Kana ran perpendicular to her own tastes, and heavily into pink.
"Damn it, I'm not trying to look cute!" she remembered saying.
Haruka would be appalled at how she treated her new clothing, throwing them around her room and grabbing whatever was convenient, not bothering to keep them sorted or hung.
But of course, today was a school day; there was no decision-making involved. Well, almost none, but she had made that decision yesterday night.
She grabbed a pair of uniform pants off her desk.
Another story unto itself, she had bought them surreptitiously halfway through the school year, and began wearing them to class.
The uproar had been much less than she expected. Her homeroom instructor had backed her, as she expected. The principal had called the two in for a surprisingly cool argument in which the instructor pointed out that it was not technically against any of the vaguely-written rules. The administrators called in her guardians, but when Natsuki showed up the next day, the administrators involved quickly sensed he had no true control over the situation.
What finally sealed it was the soccer coach showing up, pointedly reminding everyone with not-so-subtle hints that the school's star forward was under discussion and should not be displeased, lest she choose to move to a different school that would be glad to take her.
Meanwhile, the ordinarily meddlesome student council remained uncharacteristically silent, due, she later learned, to Yoshino pulling strings in her favor.
Yoshino wasn't even on the council.
The fact Yoshino she already had that kind of power so soon after joining the school—well, Touma would remember to always stay on her good side. Supposedly, Yoshino was mulling making a play for student council president the next year, something Touma was sure she could do.
What she had really been hoping was that everyone would simply ignore it. She didn't want to make a fuss. Had they really pushed her, she would have given up.
Really, she just wanted to be able to wear pants on cold days. That was all.
Now, she wore what she chose and, since today was a probably going to be a little chilly, she was going to wear pants today.
She grabbed her backpack and strode out her bedroom door. Ordinarily, now would be the time to grab a quick snack—probably a bun—and eat it on the bus ride there. It was necessary to leave extremely early to travel across the city, thanks to Chiaki's ambitious proposal last year that they get into the "best school possible". Easy to say when you lived so much closer to the place, like she did.
Well, at least Touma didn't have to get up as early as Akira. She really felt sorry for him.
She paused at the top of the stairs, thinking of the extra care and effort she would have to take today.
Over the past week, she had carefully planned out what she would bring. She had carefully hand-wrote the letter yesterday afternoon and tucked it inside a specially-bought envelope. The chocolates were chilling in the fridge—though that would hardly matter given how long they would spend in her backpack. Most important, however, was the ultimate gift: a miniature hat and strap, the perfect size for a stuffed bear such as Fujioka. She had known it was perfect the moment she saw it in the store.
Okay, so Chiaki wasn't using that bear as much nowadays. Still. It would work.
She did wonder what prompted the change in behavior, though. Maybe Chiaki had finally gotten old enough.
So much ceremony though, she thought, walking down the stairs.
She knew it wasn't really necessary, that what were really important were the contents of the envelope. But if she were going to wear the pants in this relationship, she was going to play the part to the full. This, of course, was why she had chosen this day.
She hummed a little, packing the items carefully into her backpack.
"An impressive assortment, if I may say so," commented a voice from behind her, hard-edged.
She suppressed a surprised jump.
"Nat—Natsuki!" she exclaimed, standing up shakily. "What are you doing up?"
Natsuki looked down at her, eyes impassive, giving no hint whether or not he would respond. She found herself holding her breath.
"Well, that bastard Hosaka is going to be late again and wants me to cover for him," he said, finally. "So I have to get up early. And take a day off school."
She could tell Natsuki was annoyed by the prospect, but that wasn't the issue foremost on her mind.
"I—I see," she managed to respond, knowing Natsuki wouldn't allow the sidetopic to be sustained.
"Why the gifts?" he asked, true to form, giving his head the slightest of inclinations. "It's March, not February. You're not stupid enough to get those confused."
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as she struggled to come up with an explanation. It was unusual for him to be so indirect with his questioning. What was he thinking about?
"Unless Ho-" he began."
"No!" she blurted out, surprised.
Damn it, I shouldn't have talked!
"T—This is just a gift from some idiot who got the date wrong, you know got it a couple days off," she improvised. "I'm giving it back today. Since I can't accept it, after all."
She chuckled nervously, and drily.
"I see," he said impassively.
Touma realized she was behaving uncharacteristically, barely getting a handle on the blush that was creeping up her cheeks.
Though she was proud of the date excuse. Strictly speaking, White Day was Sunday, which meant in practice that in schools, gift-giving was done on Friday; that is, today. If some "idiot" had really screwed up and done it on Thursday—well, it wouldn't even have been that egregious an error.
"What business is it of yours, anyway?" She demanded gruffly, having pulled herself together to give a more normal response, and turning away to hide her face.
"Indeed," Natsuki said. "You wouldn't think it to be. I'm surprised you even deigned to talk to me today."
"Well don't get used to it," she warned, straightening her back out defiantly, backpack in hand.
He made a sardonic expression.
"I won't."
Watching her walk out the door, Natsuki breathed a quiet sigh.
Things had gotten so much worse over the past year. Whereas he was sure there had been some residual familial warmth even as recently as last year, Touma now seemed to resent his very presence. It didn't help that he, short-tempered as he was, kept getting baited into snapping back at her.
He shook his head at himself.
At least they could still act cordially with Haruka around, so they weren't embarrassing the family.
He had a good idea of what Touma's behavior today indicated, and it disturbed him greatly. He still hoped he was wrong.
Suddenly, he slapped himself on the forehead in sudden realization.
Touma had forgotten both her breakfast—a bun that was still lying on the counter—and the lunch he had packed. And he had just let her walk out. She could buy something at school but...
Ugh, I'm an idiot.
He prepared to chase her down.
It had taken a lot of time and thought, but she had made peace with herself.
She was attracted to other girls, and that was that. It was not worth denying or lying about to herself, no matter the social consequences. This was a progressive era, right? Supposedly.
Strangely enough, she had Fujioka to thank for all this. Had he never figured out the truth, she would have continued to maintain a lie, subsuming the things she wanted to do into a comfortable alter ego, playing the sort of absurd game Mako-chan was still trapped in, hiding from the truth.
That didn't mean she didn't still enjoy it. He had lived up to his promise to continue treating her as a boy and she, in turn, kept up the pretense. It was what they were used to and they enjoyed it. Plus, he was an excellent soccer trainer. If he was a bit more hesitant to get physical than he had been in the past...well that was understandable.
And she had Chiaki to thank for not throwing it all away. One of the many things she had to thank her for.
She regarded the carefully wrapped lunch she held in her lap, where it was relatively protected from the jostling of the bus. This line serviced a lot of students at this time of day, and she was surrounded by quite a few of her classmates.
Natsuki had run her down to deliver it to her, catching up to her just one block away from her house. He had taken the opportunity to scold her for being so careless. Uncharacteristically, she had let him finish his tirade without any snide comments.
She regretted now what she had done to their relationship. He cared, after all, and showed it all the time. Though perhaps that was the problem.
Her brothers had never really watched her very carefully, and had given her considerable freedom of movement. It was something she had enjoyed, until Natsuki had suddenly started watching her much more closely.
There was, of course, a positive side, in more regular gifts and well-intentioned, useless offers to help with her homework. However, the constant watching, the sudden attempts to make her go home earlier, the request that she stop acting so boyish, the brother who suddenly started attending her soccer games...it felt oppressive to her. It grated on her.
It was unfair and she knew it. What he did was only normal, and wasn't it what she had wanted all along? The way she felt oppressed was an artifact of how she was raised—though that likely was his fault, partly.
It had taken the unusual tag team of Haruka and Fujioka to corner her and point out to her the problems with how she was behaving. Those two she would always listen to—and they were right.
So she was trying to be more considerate, but it was difficult. There was just so little trust left between them. Things had reached the point where the exchange of insults and biting remarks was habit to them both, and she found she generally couldn't ignore it when he said something to her, that she had to stand up for her pride as "a man." This, ironically, she had learned from Natsuki.
There was something else as well.
Natsuki's comments regarding her trips to the Minami household were starting to become darkly suspicious; he suspected, she was sure of it. She knew he would not approve. He was constantly paranoid that she was becoming too "boyish" and that he and the other brothers had "messed her up" somehow—she had heard him saying this when he thought wasn't listening. If he discovered what she was planning, he would blame himself, and then set out to "fix it."
That was the last thing she wanted.
There was also—
No, she decided, shaking her head. It's only natural that I blame him a little, for that.
All of that—that was only one problem she would face. She had any others. First and foremost was the question that had kept her up all night:
Would Chiaki accept?
It was not a foregone conclusion, however much she wanted it to be. Frankly, she had no idea if Chiaki shared her...predilections.
She went over the evidence once more in her mind, knowing that, once again, it would fail to be convincing enough to alleviate her fear.
It seemed to make sense. They were extremely close, everyone thought so. Their degree of personal interaction and trust was extraordinary. They were even close enough that they had even shared a few experimental kisses.
It still made her heart flutter just to think about it.
That was the only reason she dared plan such a bold move.
Unfortunately for her soundness of mind, however, there was an official, relatively innocent explanation those kisses. Chiaki had planned them saying that they were just that—experimental—and knowing Chiaki, that could very well be true.
Fujioka had once said that such a thing couldn't possibly be the true explanation, and had explained to Touma that it was almost certainly a ploy.
But that was when he still believed Touma was boy. His explanation might be quite different now. She wanted badly to just ask him for advice but…she just wasn't ready to talk to him. Not about this.
If she was right, she had it all planned out. They wouldn't be obvious about it; she had heard too much about the ostracism they would receive, and she would put off Natsuki finding out for as long as possible. She would like to be open about it, but she was a pragmatist, and would go with what was safer, for Chiaki's sake.
She was even considering upgrading the lie she and Makoto had told his mother about them having a relationship to full-scale cover story. If so, then she would make sure it was what everyone at school would see and hear, and the speculation about her going home with Chiaki every day would dim if she started taking Makoto with her as well. People see what they expect to see.
For him, it would be a chance to do further damage control regarding his mother's discovery and strip him of his stated reason for being "Mako-chan". For her, it would be a shield against truthful rumors and perceptive observers. It would be the formalization of an alliance, killing multiple birds with one stone.
But if she were wrong...
If she were wrong, then she was ruining everything.
"If you don't hurry it up, you're going to miss the bus!"
"Yeah, yeah, I got it!"
Makoto had finally finished packing everything, and was putting on his shoes, doing a delicate dance wherein he was forced to keep some of his breakfast toast clamped in his mouth.
"Oh, one last thing, Mako-chan!" his mom said, sticking her head in to the hallway just as he freed his hands enough to eat in a dignified manner.
He cringed. He had no idea how that nickname had caught on with his parents, but it had. He had yet to contrive a way to talk them out of using it.
"Yeah?" he asked. "I'm in a hurry."
His mother made a slightly mischievous expression.
Oh no, he thought, realizing what it must mean.
"I saw what you were preparing," she said, enjoying the moment.
He closed his eyes, seeking inner calm.
"Is it for that girl?" she asked, pretending not to remember very well. "What's her name...Minami Touma, was it? It is White Day, you know."
Damn. When did she see it? I thought I was being careful!
"Uh, yes, sure, haha," he managed.
He gritted his teeth with the effort of keeping a straight face—or rather the correct marginally-embarrassed face that was called for in this situation. He had no idea if he was doing it successfully.
"Oh, how cute!" his mother added.
She seemed to buy it, anyway.
He fled out the door moments later.
True to form, he ran all the way to the bus stop, barely making it in time to see the bus start to drive up.
He hopped on board and sought out the seat next to Touma that she consistently saved for him. Today she sat in a forward-facing seat near the back door, right behind a suited salaryman. She was staring at her lunch box, wearing a dark expression. He wasn't sure what was going on but...
"Hi!"
He hoped his characteristic energy would improve her mood.
"Oh, hi," she responded, seemingly surprised even though they did this every day.
He sat down.
"It's not easy saving these seats for you, you know," she commented.
"I know. Well, thank you then!" he chimed.
It was a daily ritual for them, and she was following through even though it was apparent to him that her heart wasn't in it.
Typically, he would continue chattering relentlessly while she would occasionally respond in a blasé fashion. He knew that was what he should do, to keep trying to improve her mood by osmosis, even though it didn't seem to be working so far.
But…
He fell quiet, his own mood collapsing suddenly. He wanted to ask Touma for advice, but he knew he couldn't, and he had been reminded what was keeping him so nervous.
His mood had oscillated wildly since the night before, ranging from irrationally exuberant to intensely quiet, even drawing some concerned stares from his mother. He couldn't help it; his stomach was full of butterflies, and the wild mood swings only helped to keep him sane.
He turned to look at Touma, and found her looking right back at him, eyes just as searching. They stared at each other, trying to read each other's thoughts.
What's up with her today? Is something wrong? he thought.
Why is he so quiet today? Is something wrong? she thought.
Lunchtime.
Touma was not looking forward to this. Ever since she had conceived of this plan, every day that passed made both her more nervous, and lunchtime more awkward, until it became nigh unbearable.
Yesterday, she had been so obviously uncomfortable that Uchida had asked her if she was sick. She had blamed it on a sprain from soccer practice, but she knew she couldn't use that excuse again today. She would have to survive, somehow.
She swallowed.
Well, time to do this. If she dallied any longer, they would wonder what she was doing.
She bent down to open her bag and pull her lunch out. Taking one last deep breath, she set it on the table, using her other hand to immediately start zipping it back up, concealing its contents. This was why she was taking her lunch out ahead of time. She had to be careful about closing the bag again afterward, lest—
"Oh! Is that a White Day gift I see?" a voice next to her piped.
Ack!
"No! It's nothing!" Touma said, shoving the bag under the desk and turning to face her accuser.
"Come on, you can tell me!" the girl insisted. "Who is it for?"
The girl nudged her inquisitively, then bent sideways to look at the bag. Touma shifted to block her line of sight.
It was her, the self-proclaimed president of the Touma fan club, the club Touma was embarrassed even existed. Touma had thought she would be rid of it after matriculation, but it was now stronger than ever. Worse, she had come here also. Even worse than that, she had joined the soccer team and turned out to be quite good.
On the soccer field, Touma found her fellow forward dependable and skilled. Off the field, her opinion of her was much less positive, but Touma could never say too much; she couldn't risk a break that could damage the team.
"This must be why you're taking the day off practice…" she mused.
She stood there for a moment, slowly developing a mischievous smile.
"Don't tell me!" shecontinued suddenly, turning on Touma. "Is it for me? I'm—I'm so pleased!"
She made a sharp grab for Touma's bag.
Touma snatched her bag away, her reflexes reacting just in time.
If this continued, Chiaki would be certain to notice something was happening and then—disaster.
"No! It's not for you!" Touma said.
Then she realized she had said too much.
"It's not even something like that!" she quickly amended. "Some guy put it in the wrong shoe locker, okay? I'm going to give it back to him later!"
The girl stood back up and looked down at her patronizingly.
"Oh that's all it is? I'm so disappointed!" she said, pouting.
She looked off into the far corner of the classroom.
"But, you know...ah…" she said hesitantly. "If—if you want...I—"
"I know all that already, geez! I'm not interested!" Touma interrupted, before she could say it.
Is she being serious? Touma thought. Is she ever serious?
"Touma! What's taking so long?" Uchida yelled at her from across the classroom.
"I'm coming!" Touma said, grabbing her bag and lunch in two hands, while jumping up awkwardly. "Hold your horses!"
This year, she had landed in the same class as Chiaki and Makoto. Unfortunately, Uchida and Yoshino had ended up in the next class down, which sucked, but at least they were in the same one.
These days, they alternated which classroom they ate in. Today they ate in this classroom.
"I see she's still bothering you," Yoshino commented, as Touma arrived.
"I know!" Touma said, sitting down next to Yoshino and placing her lunchbox on the impromptu four-desk arrangement. "She's so annoying! I mean, you'd think she could catch a hint by now."
For now, she had completely forgotten any fear or awkwardness.
"That's not the right attitude to have, Touma," Yoshino admonished, waving a reproachful finger. "That fan club of yours is a resource. You have to use it! If you won't do anything with it, then at least ask them to do stuff for me! Help me out a little."
"Geez, come on!" Touma said. "Not everyone is goddamn…er…"
Touma made vague hand gestures as she tried to remember.
"Nicholas Machiavelli!" she exclaimed, finally. "I remember! He was Italian!"
"It's not like you're even hinting," Uchida commented, talking through a pair of chopsticks in her mouth, and drawing the subject back to its original topic.
"What you do in situations like this," Chiaki said, pausing to put a piece of chicken in her mouth before continuing, mouth full, "is give them a good kick when they try to ask. It gets the point across quickly and easily."
"I—is that so?" Touma said, reminded by her words of everything all at once. She stared down at her food to avoid looking at Chiaki sitting across from her. Just like that, the nervousness had come back.
Uchida sighed, staring wistfully at Chiaki's food.
"I wish I could have lunches like that..." she said.
"Your mom makes perfectly fine lunches," Yoshino reprimanded. "And besides, if you had access to Haruka's cooking, you'd put on at least twenty pounds!"
"You're so mean!" Uchida said.
"Anyway, getting back on topic," Yoshino said, ignoring Uchida and leaning over to point her chopsticks at Chiaki. "It's not like things are always that easy. You can't just kick everyone who tries to approach you."
"Why not?" Chiaki said stubbornly. "It seems fine to me."
Chiaki continued blithely eating.
"Well, for one thing," Yoshino said, "You told Kana to kick Fujioka, and look at them now!"
Chiaki abruptly stopped trying to pick up her food, shifting her eyes to glare straight at Yoshino.
"That's obviously a special—"
"Hey, hey," interrupted Uchida, turning her head back from over her shoulder. "Speaking of this, have you guys noticed that Makoto keeps glancing over here with a weird look? I think he has something planned!"
"You're imagining things," Chiaki dismissed automatically, but glanced for just a moment in Touma's direction.
"No, no," said Uchida, waving her chopsticks around and wearing a "just-so" expression, "I think I'm right. Hey, Touma."
Touma, startled, looked up. She had been lost in her own thoughts.
Uchida spoke in the kind of loud whisper which not only fails to be quiet, but also signals to everyone to try and listen in.
"I think he's going to give you something today. You know, don't you? That's why you're so quiet today."
Touma felt her cheeks flare up. She was reacting far more strongly than she would ordinarily, and she knew it, but it was too late.
"Damn it, Uchida!" she complained, cheeks still red, striking the table with her fist, "I told you already that was a lie! And I still want to know how you heard about that!"
Chiaki watched the two of them with interest, still eating, but didn't say anything.
She didn't look like she believed Uchida at all, Touma thought gratefully.
"Hmm," Uchida said, looking at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression, and ignoring Touma. "I think pink would be a good color."
Touma stared at her as if she were daft.
"What?" she asked incredulously.
Uchida turned back to look at Touma with a faux-serious expression.
"For the bridesmaids' gowns. You are going to pick me as one, right?"
All Touma could manage was an aggravated, inchoate noise.
Uchida giggled.
"You're certainly one to talk," commented Yoshino, cutting her mirth off at the knees. "Who's the one who's already turned down two boys today? Hmm?"
Uchida looked at her with a betrayed expression.
"I told you not to tell them about that!"
Chiaki snapped closed the box on her lunch, the first to finish. The loud sound grabbed all their attention
Chiaki turned to look at Uchida.
"Well? Were either of them any good?" she asked.
It was a surprising question coming from her.
Uchida looked away, surprised and blushing a little.
"Well, one of them is pretty popular, but I just...it's too early, you know? Kana keeps saying to be careful about these kinds of things..."
Chiaki made a dismissive sound.
"Not like she's one to talk. Though I guess she's right."
"It's not like I even get a chance to think about it," Uchida added. "What with Yoshino here giving every one of them the stare of death."
Touma hadn't even touched her food.
When lunch was over, they got up to go back to their seats and respective classrooms, pausing to push the desks back into place.
Yoshino stopped Touma with a hand on her shoulder, before she could walk away.
"Is everything alright?" she asked, looking at her seriously. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Touma looked into Yoshino's dark, inquisitive eyes. This girl could not be lied to.
"...no, I'd rather not," Touma said, dipping her head to hide from those eyes. "Thanks for asking, though."
After a moment, Yoshino nodded, and headed back to her class.
After a few more periods of pretending to be unnaturally studious, the end of the day was finally here.
The reason she had put it off until now was silly, and maybe selfish. She had told herself that, if what she were doing were about to destroy her relationship with Chiaki forever, then she would at least allow herself one more normal day. Just once more, for old times' sake.
Given the exact nature of her plan, it helped that Chiaki didn't generally leave immediately at the bell, but hung around and chatted with the others. Touma, of course, wasn't expected to be there, since she had soccer practice to attend.
She was the only one with afterschool activities. Makoto and Uchida were neither engaged enough or bored enough to want to join anything. Chiaki just didn't tolerate idiots well, and for her, "idiots" seemed to encompass everyone not already in her immediate social circle.
Yoshino she wasn't sure about. With her goals, it seemed natural for her to join some club, yet she chose instead to walk home with Uchida and Chiaki every day.
Well, let's leave speculation aside, she thought, shoving aside the irrelevant thoughts she was using to distract herself.
She had taken the day off, citing unverifiable personal reasons. It wasn't game day, so being the star forward who had never before taken a day off, she could easily do so, though it caused worry among her teammates.
She glided down the hallway, navigating a path through the crowd with unerring precision and speed. It was a skill borne of countless hours spent avoiding defenders and goalies wielding a ball with her feet, but she didn't even notice she was doing it.
She had never understood why so many had stared at her when she first arrived here, nor ever noticed the few who still did.
She stopped in front of a particular section of the school shoe lockers. She was here.
So.
She let out a breath.
No more putting it off.
She glanced around, trying not to be too obvious that she was checking for anyone looking in her direction.
There were plenty of people around the lockers, of course; it was the end of the day. However, if she acted natural and pretended like she was only grabbing her own shoes to go home, no one would notice what she was really doing.
Or that was what she told herself, anyway.
She set down her bag and pulled out the goods in one grab, carefully hiding it from sight between her arms.
Leaving a letter in someone's shoe locker was incredibly cliché, and she was honestly not sure if anyone actually did so outside of manga. Still, it was a day to do cliché things. Again, so she had told herself.
That was also the excuse she had used to avoid talking with Chiaki in person.
As she raised her hand to the locker door, her hand shook. She felt a bead of sweat begin to form. She swallowed.
That's no good, you're being too obvious. Everyone will notice. And you've got to be faster; she might already be on her way!
She had had an elaborate arrangement of items in mind for the inside of the locker, but she completely forgot about it in the rush of getting it all in there as quickly as possible, not even daring to look around her.
When she finally stuffed everything inside, she was so relieved she almost missed the obvious. She just wanted to leave and await her fate.
Closing the metal door, though, she stopped.
Something was already inside, she realized, reviewing the image imprinted in her memory—and it wasn't just Chiaki's shoes.
She snapped it back opened and stared, no longer remembering to fake a cool demeanor.
Someone had beaten her to this. Right next to her hat, chocolates, and letter was another letter and a hair ribbon.
She stood rigidly still, shocked.
There no need to get rid of it, she thought, half-panicked, trying to calm herself down, There's no way some random guy will win over me. After all, she'll see both—
Wait.
She recognized the handwriting on the envelope.
She found him gathered with some of the other boys on a bench near the rear of the school, making an obvious—to her—effort not to seem unusually nervous and jumpy.
"You!" she exclaimed, walking up and grabbing his shoulder. "We need to talk."
The others stared at her, and, after an initial terrified jump, Makoto turned his head, with a strangely relieved expression.
"Yeah, sure," he said, smiling. "I'm glad to see you."
She took him to an isolated region of the school, near the gate but behind one of the buildings. There was an exit here too; a small door in the school wall that no one used. She didn't even know why it was there.
No one else was around to see the trees above budding into leaf and bloom. The school year was almost over; that's what they were saying.
The moment they rounded the corner, Makoto ran in front of her and turned to speak before she had a chance to say anything. His words came out in a jumbled rush, as if they had been building up for quite a while.
"So you found out, huh? How did you find out? It sounds crazy, but I'm so relieved! I've wanted to tell you for so long, but I couldn't think of how to do it. I wanted to ask—"
She grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a serious stare.
"Wha—what is it?" he asked, confused.
"I found out because I saw the letter you put in her locker."
Makoto didn't know what to make of the intense look she was giving him. What was going on?
Disconcerted, he said the only thing he could think of:
"What were you doing in her locker?"
"Because I was putting one there too," she responded instantly, anticipating the question.
She watched it sink in, watched the turmoil and sudden understanding clarity in his eyes.
"But, wait," he said, eyes dancing around, looking at her, then away, then back again. "That—that doesn't—why would you—it'd only make sense if you—you're a…oh. Oh."
He understood with disturbing rapidity, but she couldn't afford to dwell on that.
"You begin to see the problem," she said, still staring at him, when she was sure he understood.
He didn't know what to say, and again gave vent to the first thought that came to mind:
"So the rumors are true…"
"That's not the issue here!" she said, annoyed.
He didn't say anything. She turned away. She was getting irrationally angry.
"So how long?" she asked, when she thought she had a handle on her emotions.
"How long what?" he asked automatically.
"You know what I mean!"
It was a long while before he started talking, quietly but quickly.
"Ever since I met her, I think. That thing with Haruka, I was—I didn't really understand what I wanted. I was stupid. It was always about Chiaki. But she always hits me and yells at me, and Haruka was always so nice…that was what got me, you know? I thought she hated me."
He paused for the briefest of moments, and took a breath.
"I kept trying to figure it out, and kept running into dead ends, but then I noticed she always treats Mako-chan nicely, even though I don't do a thing differently when I'm her. And I thought, maybe it's something else. Maybe it's like, you know, what do you call it…it's from manga…when someone hits you even though—"
"Tsundere," Touma supplied. She had stood with her back to him the whole time.
"Yeah, and I wrote in the letter that she can kick me if she wants but—"
"Did you tell her about Mako-chan?" Touma asked, getting to what she thought was the point.
"No," he conceded, after a moment. "I—well how could I tell her about that at a moment like this?"
Touma looked at the trees, thinking about the irony that was spring.
"I wanted to ask you if you knew why Minami always treats me so badly." Makoto said, almost whispering, reaching his main point.
She turned around, reaching a sudden decision.
''I have no idea why she treats you like that," she said. "But I think I know how to deal with this.''
Makoto just looked at her, eyes showing torn emotions.
"It's so simple," she said. "We just wait and see who Chiaki rejects. That's what really matters, after all. We can't even make a decision without knowing that."
"I guess that seems fair," he responded lamely, after a moment.
Touma smiled crookedly.
"I don't rate your chances highly," she said. "After all, I visit her house every day. I'm practically her best friend, and we've even…well, never mind."
"You're forgetting something," he said, quietly, having finally turned the problem over a couple of times in his own mind.
"What?" she asked.
"You're a girl," he said, pausing. "And I am not, so there's the possibility that—"
The anger, which had been cooling, suddenly boiled over. She grabbed him by the collar.
"What did you say? I cannot believe—"
"Just listen!" He said, trying not to choke, completely surprised by her reaction. "It's not about you. It's about her. She might not be into, well, girls. Have you considered that?"
Touma let go, overriding her initial reaction.
"Yes, of course. Of course," she said, regretful. "I'm sorry. I've thought of that. I'd just forgotten."
There was a long moment of silence.
"I wonder if we should just go home," Makoto said tentatively. "It can't be healthy to keep talking about this. I mean, I know we'd seem like cowards for leaving, but she surely must need time to think about it, and it seems like plenty of people—"
"You're crazy if you think that's a good idea," she commented. "You're losing your nerve."
"I just don't think—"
He suddenly snapped his gaze to something behind her.
"What—" she began, turning around.
Someone collided into her, turning her around and breaking her balance.
Touma stumbled back, but Makoto grabbed her to keep her from falling.
The person didn't stop, but kept going, continuing to run. She finally realized who it was.
"Chiaki!" she said instinctively, reaching out with her hand.
Chiaki stopped suddenly and turned her head, long hair whiplashing around her. In her hands were crumpled two envelopes.
Neither of them had ever seen that look. Her eyes were shot wide. It was a look of utter bewilderment, shock, and…fear?
"Minami, what—" Makoto began, horrified.
She turned and kept running.
"Chi—" Touma began again.
"Chiaki, wait!" someone interrupted from behind, "What is it? What's wro—"
This time Uchida crashed into her from behind, toppling them both over. Touma was only barely able to break their fall with her forearms. Yoshino arrived mere seconds later, but stopped at the spectacle before her.
They thus watched helplessly as Chiaki flung open the door and fled.
