I stuff my hands in the pockets of my jacket, shielding them from the biting wind. January is not being kind to me. I lost my gloves last week and forgot to buy a new pair. It's been below freezing every day since then.
I'm grateful for the warmth of the math building. I make my way toward the lecture hall where I spend every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from 10:00-10:50 learning about finite math—a topic I've been fluent in for at least three years. The class isn't huge, but it's big enough for me to get lost in. I make my way toward the back, where Makoto and Haru are already waiting.
"Why do you guys get here so early every day?" I ask exasperatedly.
"I just come from the next building over," Makoto replies. "And Haru gets done at the pool at 9:00, so he just comes right from there."
"Better than being late," Haru adds in an undertone.
"Whatever," I grumble.
I drop into my seat next to Makoto, trying to ignore Haru as best as I can. Thankfully, this is the only class I have with him. Makoto and I also have a literature class together, but I at least get along with him.
The cold weather makes my shoulder feel stiff. I roll it as gently as I can and am surprised to not feel that familiar spasm of dull pain. Maybe the therapy really is helping.
Unfortunately, I am distracted from this marginal victory by someone that I was half-hoping I wouldn't have to see again. Someone with blonde hair and glasses who is once again staring at me. She is walking up the steps of the lecture hall, not even bothering to look where she's going. And no matter how hard I stare her down, she doesn't look away until she ducks into the row in front of me. She sidles down until she is directly in front of me and takes a seat.
I have a feeling she's probably been in this class all semester and I just haven't noticed her, but still, this is weird.
However, I'm not given time to ruminate on it as the professor arrives and starts up class. The lecture is boring, something about matrices that I'm only half-listening to. I'm thoroughly distracted by the girl in front of me. She has pulled out her laptop and, to my amazement, popped in an ear bud. She opens what looks like some kind of music mixing program and sets to work. I can't even follow what she's doing—partly because it's complicated and partly because she's doing it so fucking fast. Like, it doesn't seem physically possible that she's moving her finger that quickly on the track pad. A glance to my right shows me that Makoto is equally distracted by her activity.
Which is why we're all caught off guard when the professor suddenly stops talking and there is a general murmuring throughout the lecture hall. A glance at my watch tells me he's only been talking for 30 minutes. The rest of the room looks to be getting in groups. Most of them are in teams of four.
"Excuse me," Makoto says suddenly, leaning toward the girl in front of us.
She turns her head toward Makoto and glances back at him curiously.
"I think we're supposed to be getting in groups, would you like to join us? We'll have four, then," he asks.
"Oi, who says I want to be in a group with you two?" I ask abruptly.
"Yeah, sure," she says, ignoring me.
I gather from context clues that we're supposed to work on the sheet that the professor is passing out in these groups. Haru goes to the other side of the table and he and the girl face Makoto and me. She hasn't even bothered to close her computer up, but if the professor sees it, he doesn't say anything.
"Um, it's nice to meet you," Makoto leans toward the girl again. "My name is Tachibana Makoto. That's Nanase Haruka," he gestures to Haru. "And this is Yamazaki Sousuke," he points to me.
"Amakatsu Kimiko," she replies.
"What's that you're working on there?" Makoto asks, gesturing toward her laptop.
"Just mixing something for a class."
"Oh, that's neat."
"Yeah, it's alright."
She isn't exactly prickly, but she isn't very forthcoming either. She makes polite conversation with Makoto, though it seems like she'd much rather be back at her computer.
It's clear once we start the assignment that Makoto and I are the only ones who understand. I'm fully aware of the fact that this class isn't Haru's strong suit, judging by how often he and Makoto sit at our living room table and work on it. But, even considering his generally indifferent attitude, he's at least trying. Amakatsu is literally just sitting there. And I'm starting to get irritated.
"What did you get for number twelve?" I ask her.
"I didn't," she replies simply.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I didn't get anything."
"Why?"
"Uh, because I didn't do it," she retorts in a voice that implies I'm the idiot for even asking.
"Why the hell not?" I ask sharply.
"Because none of this makes any sense to me."
"Maybe if you paid attention to the lecture, it might," I bite back.
"I don't pay attention because it won't help," she counters. "Numbers don't make any sense to me."
"Aren't there numbers on that computer? Because last I checked, all computers use them."
"I can read numbers, I'm not an invalid. I'm saying I can't manipulate them. I literally cannot wrap my brain around it."
I'm not sure when this turned into such a heated argument, but I can tell it's escalated quickly by the way Makoto and even Haru are watching me—which is infuriating, because she's also to blame, but whatever. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself before I speak again.
"Do you want help then?"
"It won't do any good," she replies simply.
I hear Makoto let out a laugh beside me. Even Haru is cracking a smile. Meanwhile, my blood pressure is probably topping out at the highest acceptable maximum.
"Fine, whatever, fucking fail, I don't care," I grumble, losing my composure.
"How's your shoulder?"
The question catches me off guard, and for a minute, I forget that I'm mad.
"It… It's fine," I mumble.
"Aizawa was saying it was god awful when you first came in," she notes.
"So you're the girlfriend that he uses as a dummy?"
"Charming," she grimaces. "Unfortunately, yes."
"You call your boyfriend by his last name?" I ask incredulously.
"I prefer it," she shrugs. "Were you really swimming with it like that?"
"What's it to you?" I prickle.
"It's not," she replies. "But do you remember when you first hurt it?"
"I… I think so," I mumble.
"I'm not asking if you think you remember when, idiot."
The idiot portion of that makes my jaw clench, and I'm sure my blood pressure has now reached a critical point.
"It was a match against Igarashi High, the fall of my first year of high school," I retort.
She rests her elbow on the table and sets her chin in her hand. Despite her sarcastic quips, she looks more fascinated than annoyed.
"Even though you hurt yourself, you were the first one to hit the wall," she muses thoughtfully, adjusting her glasses.
"How… How did you know that?" I ask, now a bit concerned.
"You do remember Aizawa was on your team, right?" she asks sardonically.
"Oh… Yeah."
It should've been obvious from the start, and I immediately feel stupid. She isn't a stalker. She was staring at me because she was honestly trying to remember where she'd seen me. It had to have been at the meets, where she'd probably been cheering on her boyfriend. And if she was there for my injury, she probably got an extended look at me, so it would make sense that she remembered. I wonder for only a moment why I don't remember her, but then I realize that's a dumb question. I was so focused on swimming back then, I barely paid attention to what was going on around me. If I don't remember my actual teammates, why would I remember their girlfriends?
"Do you swim?" Makoto asks suddenly, trying to break the silence that's settled over us.
"No, I never learned," she replies.
"Wait, your boyfriend is a swimmer and you don't know how to swim?" I ask skeptically.
"Yeah, well, I mix music and he doesn't know how to do that," she counters. "What a ridiculous argument."
"Stupid, that's not what I meant," I growl.
Suddenly, a smile spreads over her face. I'm not sure what I said to amuse her. I wonder if maybe she's making fun of me, but it really doesn't seem like it. She just seems amused.
"I know what you meant," she says. "But I just never really wanted to learn. Do you two swim?" The question is directed toward Haru and Makoto.
"We do, yeah," Makoto nods. "Haru and I were on the same team in high school. And he actually swims on the university team now."
"Impressive," she marvels.
"Not really," Haru says.
"He's just modest," Makoto cuts in. "We should probably get this finished though, class is almost over."
With no help from Amakatsu, we finish the assignment just as the clock hits 10:50. Before I can have another tense conversation, I gather my things and flee the room. I have an appointment with Aizawa at 11:00 anyway, and it's across campus, so I have an excuse for not sticking around.
I only have to sit in the lounge full of students for about five minutes before Aizawa comes to get me. We're about halfway through my exercises, and I'm feeling particularly irritable, so I can't stop myself from opening my mouth.
"Your girlfriend's weird."
Instead of getting offended, like I assume a normal boyfriend would, he just smiles bemusedly.
"So you finally got to talk, then?"
"What does that mean?"
"She was a big fan of yours in high school," he notes. "Two more reps, come on."
"Didn't that make you kinda jealous?" I ask through my teeth, lifting the resistance band laterally and wishing not for the first time today that I were dead.
"I don't think it was anything like that," he brushes it off. "And I couldn't really blame her. You were the best swimmer on the team, before… Well, you know. But you were so powerful. It was like you controlled the water. She was actually the one who told me that."
"I don't know about that," I scoff.
"Well, it's true. She got pretty upset when you hurt your shoulder. She's always been really in tune with other people, it's like she feels their emotions for them, in her own weird way."
"She's weird, alright," I grunt, finishing the last lateral swing and wanting to fall to the ground in a heap.
"She's changed a bit, for sure. But she's always been a little different," he laughs.
If "different" meant "unpleasant and more sardonic than Haru," then he's right on the money. Still, it's surprising to find out that she liked to watch him swim—especially given her confession today. Which reminds me…
"You never taught her how to swim?" I ask as he starts massaging my shoulder.
"I offered a lot, but she never wanted to," he replies. "She never really gave me a reason, but I always thought that maybe she was kind of scared."
"That's probably not it," I say without thinking.
"Really?"
"Well… I mean, I don't know her that well," I backpedal. "It just… She doesn't exactly seem like she'd shy away from a challenge."
He's quiet for a minute, and I'm a little unnerved because I can't see him. Then, he releases a breathy laugh.
"You're right about that," he concedes.
