Title: Stranger

Rating: T, although given my main characters, this probably ought to be K -.- Just in case, though.

Disclaimer: I do not own La Corda D'oro or any of the characters mentioned here. Except Takano and Usaki, but you probably knew that.

A/N: Well, this chapter is lengthy and heavy on Usaki-Takano-Shoko regrouping conversation. A lot of you may deem it unnecessary. It might very well have been unnecessary. But I would rather put Shoko's contemplation of things into a conversation than just have six pages of "Woe is me, he loves me, he loves me not, blahhh". So why don't I just do without either? Because Shoko obsesses. It's what she does. I guess I could just say she obsessed about it for X number of days, but I think her budding friendship/dependence on Usaki and Takano is an important growth experience. So basically, sorry if it's hard to slog through, but please bear with it.

KatarzynaAnica - I would like to thank you very much. It was really nice of you to take the time to let me know specifically what you liked or disliked about this. Some of it, I slightly disagreed with (like Len being the perfect leading man. Coaxing plausible dialogue from him is like trying to get a cat into a bathtub) but for the most part you are spot on. Should you continue reading, I hope you will find some of your issues satisfactorily resolved. Shoko is definitely flawed right now, but her growth as a person is part of the story, so please be patient with her for now. As for the tempo of the story . . . writing it one chapter at a time and taking time between chapters makes it difficult for it to flow. I do the best I can with the time and energy I have. But thank you, I truly appreciate your detailed review and do take it as a compliment that you felt the story worth leaving it.

Dream Cager - Thank you for your continued support! I'm thrilled to know you enjoy it and that it has not yet majorly disappointed. I worry it'll suddenly take a turn for the awful, and it makes me dread finishing this. In any case, I'm glad to know you are able to visualize things well! I always wish I could see what other people think of when they read something.

Thanks so much to everyone else who reviewed, both to the new readers and those who have kindly offered their feedback over the last several chapters. I apologize for the lengthy note, and as always, please enjoy!


Sunday Morning


Shoko opened her eyes the next morning to find large, dark brown ones peering out at her above a sly grin.

She shrieked, scrambling away, and Usaki fell back, holding her ears.

"Owww," she whined, sitting up and looking at Shoko as if the startled girl were the one in the wrong. "God, but you have a pair of lungs on you."

"I-I, but, what are y-you doing? You t-terrified me!"

Usaki looked affronted.

"Well, what else would I be doing?"

From the doorway, Takano chuckled, glancing at Shoko apologetically.

"She's been waiting for you to wake up for an hour. You'd think she would have better things to do on a Sunday morning, but I couldn't really stop her." She paused. "And I admit, I'm curious, too."

Usaki nodded along like a bobblehead.

"See? So," she looked at Shoko, who had inched right up against the wall and was still waiting for her pulse to slow, expectantly. "Let's hear it."

"H-hear what?" What were they talking about? Why was Usaki here on a Sunday morning?

She rolled her eyes and went on patiently as if Shoko was an idiot, which, frankly, Shoko did not appreciate, as Usaki was the one who had surprised her first thing in the morning, expecting her to answer a question she didn't even know what was.

"I have it on good authority-" here, she tilted her head toward Takano cheerily, "That a certain blue-haired violinist escorted you home after dark, and someone also called this morning asking where you had gone off at the party yesterday, leaving several hours of your time yesterday quite unaccounted for," she finished, looking for all the world like she was about to devour a particularly delectable piece of cherry pie.

Shoko turned the same color as the filling in said pie.

"Th-that's, it's-" she stopped short. Someone had called?

And, as she'd known it would, the ugly reality of yesterday and it's impending consequences came flooding back into her mind.

She had left. Without warning anyone, not even her host. She'd crawled out a window. She'd abandoned Kahoko to the improper and possibly awkward situation of being the only girl in a house full of teenage boys who were all half or all the way in love with her. Not only that, but she'd caused yet another of the few guests to leave also, without explanation, and then monopolized the young man in question for the rest of the evening because of her own selfishness and desperation. And then his parents had completely misinterpreted her presence in his home - which she shouldn't even have been in in the first place, considering it was originally just the two of them, which was possibly even worse than Kahoko's situation, given that at least with her each boy would make certain none of the others misbehaved - and she had knowingly ignored everything wrong with her behavior in favor of reveling in the awkward bliss that was last evening.

And even now! She should be ashamed of herself, because even as she felt embarrassed and panicked and wanted to crawl into a hole and rot, the memory of the latter half of the day sent shoots of warmth blossoming through her. She was, in her opinion, nowhere near as repentant as she ought to be. She should already be halfway downstairs by now, on her way to the phone to call and profusely apologize to everyone in question, assuring them that no, she did not know what had come over her, and yes, she would go out onto the porch and commit ritualistic suicide within the hour.

But no. Instead, she was still sitting in bed, and while yes, a part of her was about to expire from horror at herself, the rest of her was contemplating lying back down, snuggling into her pillow, and dreaming some more.

"Well?!" Usaki was starting to get impatient. Shoko supposed she should give her credit for lasting this long, given whom it was.

"I-I . . . um, I w-wasn't feeling well, s-so I left e-early." Shoko knew they would not let her leave it at that, but she was feeling stubborn this morning, and if they wanted her to elaborate they'd at least have to work for it. And hopefully, if she was not immediately forthcoming, she wouldn't have to say too much. Because then they'd continue on with those dratted knowing looks, and she couldn't pretend any longer that she didn't have an inkling as to what all that was about.

The question was, were they right?

She swallowed, thinking of his cold, glittering eyes in the dark, and how they seemed to have softened slightly as he'd told her that he preferred to have spent the day with her than at the party, and how she'd ascended into lightheaded bliss immediately thereafter.

So perhaps the question was, how right were they?

How much longer do I have to live, Doctor? she thought, grimly amused.

"Uh-huh. Without telling anyone. And conveniently, about five or ten minutes later, Mr. Tsukimori happens to excuse himself without an explanation, and unless you mysteriously met up with him several hours later in time for him to walk you home, the two of you met up and played around town the rest of the day."

Well, when she put it like that, Shoko supposed it sounded rather suspicious.

"It r-really was j-just-"

"Not to mention," she continued, trying to look steely-eyed but favoring a sparkling, anticipatory look instead, "Takano-san informs me that you also spent Wednesday evening together. Which you neglected to tell me, if you'll recall. If you don't, it was when you were saying how you hadn't spent that much time together at all." Her gaze did turn rather pointed here.

Shoko shrank into the wall.

"W-well, I d-didn't really have a ch-choice, y-you . . . you can b-be . . ."

She frowned, and Takano stifled a laugh.

"What? I can be what?"

Takano walked forward as Shoko shifted uncomfortably, and laid a hand on Usaki's shoulder.

"You can be pushy. And you know Fuyuumi-san doesn't like to talk about things. You are browbeating her a little," she reprimanded gently.

"Oh. Sorry. I forget sometimes," she apologized, looking genuinely sorry as she scooted back a few inches, as though backing off physically would somehow help.

"It's o-okay. I know you m-mean well." She hesitated, and then smiled faintly, deciding to take her chances. "Y-you are a little n-nosy."

Usaki looked like she might protest, than glanced down sheepishly.

"Fine. But I am genuinely curious. Takano-san and I worry about you sometimes. What with your parents always traveling, I feel like I don't even have a job, you hardly ever leave the house."

Shoko reddened, examining the smooth white headboard.

And discovered that, while she'd like to keep the details to herself, she wanted to tell someone about yesterday. Namely, about Len's odd behavior and what it could possibly mean.

"I r-really did not f-feel well," she said, though there was no way she was telling them why. She wasn't exactly clear on that herself. And didn't really want to be. "So I-" she stopped. She didn't dare repeat her escape through the window, either. "I-I left. I d-didn't want to be a-a bother to anyone, s-so I walked a w-ways, and r-rested on a bench. But . . . um, I left m-my bag there," she did not mention her shoes, "And Ts-tsukimori-senpai . . . h-he followed with my s-stuff, and then . . ."

Usaki leaned forward. Shoko was not sure how to explain the stilted exchanges that led to them getting something to eat, visiting the florists, and eventually going to his house for cake.

"Did he . . . did he kiss you?" she prodded, looking at Shoko with wide, excited eyes. Even Takano seemed to be waiting anxiously for the answer, though she was very careful not to look at Shoko so as not to pressure her.

Shoko would have fallen over if she hadn't already been propped against the headboard.

"I-I - w-what d-do you - th-that's . . . o-of c-course he d-didn't . . . didn't k-kiss me! Wh-why would you th-think that?" she sputtered incredulously, telling herself the burn crawling up her neck and cheeks and on to her ears was from shock at such a ridiculous question.

"Well, you paused like he did something really astonishing. And usually something really juicy follows. I should have known, though," she reflected disappointedly. "If he'd kissed you, you'd probably be comatose right now."

Shoko felt too weak to be insulted. She was still reeling from the idea that he would . . . that he . . . especially after his parents had thought . . .

"No need to blush on my account," Usaki said, cocking a brow. "In any case, please, continue. 'And then' what?"

Relieved to think about something else, even if it was closely related, she thought back to the way he had, in his own way, gone to great lengths to accommodate her so she would not suffer alone in the rain.

She struggled to find words. It was so complicated, would be difficult to retell, and yet it was really very simple.

"A-and then he was j-just so . . . so k-kind to me," she said softly, gesturing helplessly. "I i-insisted he go a-away . . . um, I r-really didn't w-want to see a-anyone . . . and s-so he finally left, b-but . . . he came b-back, even though I w-was so rude. And s-since I wasn't r-ready to go home, to get me o-out of the rain, h-he took me to get s-something to eat."

Usaki looked immediately suspicious.

"You should be careful. It might seem like a boy is nice, but he could just be trying to charm his way into yo-"

Takano whacked her across the back of the head, the appalled expression rendering words unnecessary.

Shoko on the other hand, laughed out loud at the idea of Len as a skeezy womanizer.

"Sorry, sorry," she apologized, rubbing her head mournfully and glaring at Shoko, mistaking her laughter for amusement at her injury. "You hit so hard, Miko-chan," she complained. Shoko wondered when they'd gotten to be such good friends, but she supposed when you were a driver with no one to drive around and a housekeeper keeping a house that was for the most part uninhabited, you had to occupy yourself somehow. Striking up unlikely friendships was as good a way as any. In any case, Takano was probably a good influence.

She looked at Usaki doubtfully. If anyone could influence her, that was.

"I a-assure you, he's n-not like that." If only he were. It would be so much easier to dismiss him.

At least, she hoped it would be. Surely she possessed some sense.

"If you say so. How did dinner go?"

She winced, thinking of her muteness and the strained silences.

"I-I wasn't a-at my best. B-but he said it w-was okay, th-that I didn't h-have to explain."

Usaki stared.

"How could he not ask?" she wondered, being someone who would not hesitate to bombard Shoko with questions whether she was feeling well or not. Behind her, Takano grinned and looked skyward.

"W-well . . . he s-said it wasn't a-any of his business, and th-then he just w-wanted to know if I was f-feeling better."

"What a guy," Usaki commented, amazed. "Are you sure he's not just afte-" she stopped, ducking as Takano swiped at her again.

If Shoko had not for herself witnessed it, she wouldn't for a moment believe Len had really acted that way, but for different reasons than Usaki.

She'd known he wasn't exactly cold - well, not like how people thought - but she hadn't known he was so . . . not warm, he was definitely not warm, but he was somehow -

Her head was starting to hurt.

"So what happened after that?"

Shoko relayed the tale of the flower shop, and, reluctantly, the encounter at Len's house. During the latter, she could barely tell it, she still felt so embarrassed.

Usaki, on the other hand, found it hilarious.

"Oh, p-poor you!" She sputtered, shaking with mirth. Unsurprisingly, she didn't sound that sympathetic at all. "A-actually, poor Mrs. Tsukimori! She must h-have been so embarrassed! Ohh, if only I h-had been there!"

Even Takano couldn't suppress her laughter. Shoko smiled grudgingly, though thinking of it still left her a little ill.

"N-no, you don't, i-it was s-so awkward! I was s-sure I would d-die!" she exclaimed, burying her face in her hands as she grinned.

It's nice, she marveled. It's not so bad, laughing at yourself, if you have someone with you.

She couldn't remember ever having done it before. The stinging humiliation had never been followed by laughter, just a painful lesson learned and tucked away with all the others, impossible to forget.

"My, my, though," Usaki said, dabbing at her eyes. "You had quite the day, especially for you." She bounded over and slung an arm around Shoko, giving her a squeeze. "You're a regular adventuress!"

Shoko, feeling too pleased with the morning to shy away from the invasion of her personal space, shook her head. Usaki was more excited than Shoko was.

Shoko might have been that excited, but she had all the doubts and insecurities diminishing the thrill.

"I-I just don't u-understand what it m-means . . . m-maybe I'm being s-silly, and he was j-just doing what a-anyone else would . . . b-but, no one e-else did, s-so . . ." She gestured helplessly, and Usaki leaned back against the headboard thoughtfully.

"It sounds as though he likes you, but he doesn't even know it yet."

Shoko froze, going strangely cold and warm at the same time. She blinked, and broke out of it, shaking her head furiously.

"Th-that's not p-possible, h-he . . . h-he likes K-Kaho-chan," she countered hurriedly. Usaki didn't know the situation. That was the only reason she arrived at such a conclusion. There was no way that was it, and Shoko would do well to remember that.

"The redheaded girl? She does seem like a sweetheart . . . but Fuyuumi-san, if you don't think that's it, if you know he likes your other friend, why did you ask what it meant?"

"I . . . I meant o-other than that."

She stared.

"But you don't think it was just his sense of courtesy."

"W-well, it's u-unlike him to-"

"It sounds to me," Usaki interrupted, "Like you, also, think he likes you. That or you're not sure and even though you won't let yourself hope, you still want to hear someone else say it."

Shoko was speechless.

Was that really her goal?

Was she really capable of such unconscious manipulation?

"I-I . . . d-do I?"

"I don't know, do you?" Usaki looked genuinely curious.

She was stumped, and afraid to sort it out, suddenly feeling like she didn't know herself. What if she said something, still trying to get Usaki to tell her what she wanted to hear? Even if she didn't realize that was what she was doing? Or that that was what she wanted to hear? If it was, then surely when Usaki first suggested it, she wouldn't have been so surprised? Though now that she thought about it, had she been surprised? Maybe she was just thinking in terms of what she wanted to believe instead of how things really we-

Takano stepped in.

"I think that's enough for now. You maybe shouldn't say things like that, I can practically see Fuyuumi-san entering into a mind-game with herself. You know she's likely to fret about this sort of thing. Anyways, I think she's genuinely confused. Remember, this is probably her first time feeling like this."

Usaki looked unconvinced, but glanced at Shoko in apology. Shoko acknowledged it with the barest of nods, her brain still whirling, trying to sort out the truth of her own intentions.

"Sorry, Fuyuumi-san, I didn't mean it in a bad way. It's just something people do." She looked at Takano pointedly. "Regardless of age or experience. It's instinctive."

Shoko was horrified. She didn't want to think herself capable of doing that on a regular basis. She'd always thought she'd known exactly what she was doing. In fact, she was usually painfully aware, to the point of obsessing.

Takano sighed.

"Nonetheless, Usa-chan, don't worry her. She's stressed enough as it is."

"Fine, fine," she grumbled. "Though I do think he likes her. And deep down she knows it."

He doesn't, he doesn't, he doesn't, Shoko assured herself, fighting the chills that seemed to dart out across her. It's not like that.

She said nothing, unwilling to argue with someone so persistent as Usaki. Even without that factor, she'd never been good at arguing. Just listening silently, letting herself be talked over, too terrified to speak. It seemed like she was always too terrified to speak.

"In any case," Takano spoke, turning to the door. "You've interrogated the poor thing enough. I think it's only fair we feed her now," she said, grinning and disappearing through the door, her feet sounding on the stairs moments later.

"Ooh, let's go. I already ate, but I think I'm hungry again." She crawled across the bed and slipped off, all clumsy energy, like a kid. She held out a hand to Shoko, who took it and slid off the bed to her feet. "Sorry, Fuyuumi-san. I didn't mean to browbeat you. But I can't help it. I'm just curious. And you know, your violinist is rather handsome and mysterious."

Shoko reddened, but nodded.

"It's a-alright, I unders-stand. I know I c-can be s-sensitive."

Usaki shrugged.

"Yeah. But even if sometimes you go kind of overboard, it's really quite endearing."

Shoko wasn't sure whether that was a compliment or not, but for once wasn't worried about it.

Then something occurred to her.

"W-what about you, Us-saki-san? D-do you have s-someone you . . . well, l-like?"

Usaki stilled, blinking at her, then looking away, silent for a few heartbeats. Shoko congratulated herself on causing her to be speechless for once.

"I . . . you know? I'm not sure."

Shoko tilted her head.

"H-how can you n-not be sure? You e-either do or you d-don't, right?"

She hesitated.

"It's not that simple." Then she frowned, narrowing her eyes and giving Shoko a dirty look. "As you just spent the last half hour proving. Hmph, hypocrite much?"

But she said it with a smile.


Monday Morning


"I-I'm so s-sorry, Kazuki-k-kun!" Shoko apologized earnestly, bowing deeply, hands clasped together.

"Eh?" Kazuki stared at her. "Oh, that's right," he said, recognition dawning.

Immediately upon arriving at school, Shoko had sought him out, determined to force out the apology and explanation she had spent the last day rehearsing over and over again. She'd found him staring dreamily into space, a huge grin on his face - which might have alarmed Shoko had she not been so preoccupied.

"I-I shouldn't h-have left like that, I-I just didn't w-want to disrupt the p-party, though I a-admit it was a l-little strange, and th-then I didn't even r-return your call, s-so I understand if y-you or anyone else w-was upset, and I'm r-really sorry," she finished, although she didn't flatter herself that most of them noticed she was missing. Kazuki shook his head, holding up a hand.

"No, no, don't worry about it, it was fine! I'm glad to see you're looking bette- wait. Call? I didn't call . . ." He winced. "I really should have, though, I'm sorry, I was just, um, distracted." The grin had drifted back onto his face.

"It's f-fine, really, but who d-did call?"

"That would be me," a voice said behind her, and she spun around.

"Y-yunoki-senpai!" She bowed quickly. "Th-thank you, then, f-for calling to a-ask after my h-health." She shifted backwards a few inches.

He gave her one of those dazzling smiles. It should have seemed warm, but instead gave her a growing sense of unease. She felt almost as if he had some kind of ulterior motive. He had certainly never paid her much note before, so it was unusual that he would be the one to call.

"Oh, it was nothing. I'm happy you seem to be doing well now."

"Y-yes, thank you," she said cautiously. Kazuki had gone back to staring into space.

"I trust Tsukimori-kun located you without too much trouble?"

And there it was. Surely that was an innocent enough question.

But then, she was nothing if not paranoid.

"Y-yes, he did, it w-was very nice of h-him to bring me m-my things." Even if she didn't understand why he did it. Or if she did, like Usaki thought, she didn't know she did.

"It was, wasn't it? I was surprised, myself." He smiled, looking at her curiously. "Was he all right when you saw him, by the way?"

"Ah, yes, h-he was, why d-do you ask?"

"Well, he seemed very worried about you in his own way. Actually, he was the first to notice you were missing." His smile stretched wider. "I must admit, it was amusing to see. He stood by himself and . . . to be honest, it looked like he was arguing with himself. And then he informed Kazuki-kun he was taking you your stuff, and nearly shot out the door after you."

Shoko's stomach flipped. He was worried? He had noticed her missing? She didn't want him to be worried, she told herself. She didn't want him to chase after her.

Oh, but she did.

"It's true," Kazuki had started paying attention again when Azuma mentioned Len. "It was the weirdest thing. Well, maybe not normally, but for Len."

"Right," Azuma nodded. "I wouldn't have expected Len to do something so nice. After all, he's so cold."

"He's not," she said without thinking.

Drat it all, I really need to stop doing that, she cursed herself.

Azuma's eyes flickered with interest, Kazuki's with surprise.

"What makes you say that?" His voice was smooth, light, but Shoko was not deceived. Azuma might very well be a charming gentleman, but as someone who was awkward with people, she knew that in order to be so at ease with and good at managing people, you had to be able to read them. To see what was not said or easily picked out. She suspected he enjoyed games, too. She never had been good with games.

"W-well, if h-he were c-cold h-he wouldn't h-have brought m-me my s-stuff, is a-all," she said hurriedly, her stammer betraying her.

"Is that all? I thought maybe, having spent time alone with him to shop for Kahoko-chan, you might have discovered something more about him." He paused, looking thoughtful. "Come to think of it, Tsukimori-kun didn't come back to the party, did he?" He looked at Kazuki expectantly.

"Eh? You're right, he didn't." Kazuki was less likely to notice of course, given that he would be all too happy with Len gone.

"Do you know what happened to him, Fuyuumi-san?" The question was innocent, his tone betrayed no hidden motives or suspicion, but nonetheless, she felt like she was being cornered, about to meet her gruesome demise.

"I-I-"

The bell rang. She could not believe her luck. Being saved by the bell never happened to people like her. She wasn't sure that in reality, it happened to anyone. Even if it did, good things never happened when she needed them to. Yet for once, something had.

With nary more than an incoherent murmur injected with feigned regret, Shoko made her escape.


Monday, Lunch


She had decided that, at lunch time, she would go and make amends with Kahoko. The rest of the concours participants probably deserved an apology, also, but again - she didn't think they'd really noticed her missing, and there was certainly no way she would put herself through the pained explanation again. And risk being interrogated about Len.

But then, Azuma was the only person sadis- er, curious enough to ask about that. Everyone else would wave away her apologies. Keichii would probably just fall asleep halfway through.

So, when the bell rang, she waited quietly for most of the students to filter out, and exited into the hallway, fully intending to cross over to the Gen Ed building, seek out Kahoko, whom she was pretty sure had lunch at the same time as she did, apologize, and come back here to eat a quick lunch if all went well.

And then, out of the corner of her eye, a flash of blue, and her feet couldn't help but tentatively follow, heart switching to a fast beat.

She wondered if it would always be like this. If every time she saw him, she'd react so strongly, be pulled towards him unwillingly.

Or maybe not unwillingly. Maybe it was more like what Usaki had said. Maybe she wanted to chase after him, fall into that head first no matter the consequences.

He was heading in the opposite direction than the rest of the students, she noticed, discreetly slipping after him.

But if that was how it was, she contemplated, returning to her thoughts, how was it she'd also fought to avoid him, fought not to feel that way, fought to talk herself out of it?

Could you want to want something and not want to want it at the same time?

He turned the corner, and shortly after, so did she.

As they went on, there were fewer students to conceal her presence, so she held back a little. She could always lie and say her locker was over here, if he caught her. Or she could hide behind the large rolling trashcan the janitor had temporarily left in the hallway. Behind it, or in it, like they did in cartoons. The thought caused her to smile briefly.

As they separately turned the next corner, she deduced his destination.

The roof. But without his violin case . . . come to think of it, he isn't ever in the lunchroom. I'd thought he had a different lunch hour than me.

She smiled a little. She could see him hiding up on the roof top, breathing in the fresh air away from the overbearing crowds and noise. He did like his solitude.

Fairly certain now where he was going, she stopped to idle by the water fountain, debating whether or not to continue on and join him, or to turn around and go find Kahoko, like she should do.

A couple of minutes later, after an intense battle with herself, she went after him.

She half hoped she was wrong and he wouldn't be on the roof. She couldn't think what to say when she arrived there. Hi, Tsukimori-senpai, I saw you heading up here and just couldn't stop myself from following after you like a creep, haha.

She decided to just pretend she was going up there for some peace and quiet in which to eat her lunch, and minutes later, she determinedly pushed the door open, and then opted for a casual air as she stepped out onto the roof.

But no one was there.

The breeze lifted her hair as she gave a searching glance across the roof. No one. Maybe he was on the other side . . . but it would be too odd to go looking. He'd know she'd followed him.

In any case, she didn't hear anything but for the slight wind, the rustle of the rooftop plants, and the door clicking shut behind her. And possibly a crow in the distance.

Disappointment filled her, and she mentally kicked herself. It had been a stupid plan, anyway. She knew she should have gone to find Kahoko, but she hadn't been able to help herself . . .

"Are you looking for someone?"

She must have jumped about a foot in the air.

"Ts-tsukim-mori-senpai!" she squeaked. He'd been seated on the other side of the door the entire time, out of sight until it closed. Completely silent. Watching her. As she looked for him.

Shoko went crimson. So much for pretending she hadn't followed him up here.

"Fuyuumi-san," he nodded, his gaze revealing nothing.

She scrambled for an excuse, but found none.

"I j-just . . ." There was no way she could say it out loud, even if he already knew.

Strangely, he didn't give any indication he thought so.

"Sit, if you would like." He resumed eating, and her heart thumped wildly as she tried to decipher what that meant.

Where? She wanted to scream. Next to you? Across from you? On the other side of the rooftop? Or do you not even want me to be here? Are you just being polite?

But would he have said anything at all if he took exception to her presence there?

So she went and sat next to him, but about two feet away for good measure, and got out her own lunch.

"D-do you always eat up h-here?" she asked, originally hoping to make the situation less awkward, but finding that she really did want to know.

"Yes." He briefly went back to eating his lunch. She did not think he was going to say anymore, but he continued. "The cafeteria is irritating. The noise and crowds, I suppose."

Shoko had guessed as much, but as she thought about it, she wished it had occurred to her to simply eat elsewhere. She, too, hated the lunchroom for those reasons, out of discomfort rather than annoyance.

"I-I don't like it e-either. B-because it's s-scary, though," she found herself telling him, pulling out her chopsticks and deciding she would try for once to just eat and not think about the myriad of embarrassing mishaps that could possibly occur.

He looked sideways at her.

"Scary?" He seemed to be trying to process that.

She thought for a minute how to explain.

"I'm a-always afraid I'll c-crash into someone, or d-do something clumsy. I-I know it's s-silly, but I'm not v-very good with things like th-that. Just t-too many p-people . . ." She halted, then continued. "I-it makes my h-head spin. And a-all the noise, it f-feels like my m-mind is t-trying to catch all of it, but of c-course it can't, so I-I just . . . feel s-so overwhelmed." It sounded reasonable to her ears, but she doubted Len had ever felt like that - he seemed to take everything in stride - so perhaps to him it was nonsense.

It occurred to her she had not ever told anyone that. It had always been just another one of those stupid things she inexplicably had problems with, and she didn't think most people would get it. Most people didn't come close to breaking down just by walking into a crowd. If anything, they'd tell her she was just being shy and if she tried, she'd stop feeling that way.

God knew she'd tried, but most of the time, her efforts were not rewarded. At some point, it stopped being worth it, she stopped trying, and so she faded.

He seemed to be thinking over her words.

"That must be hard. I can't imagine it."

She'd figured, but she didn't mind. She wondered why. Why she'd told him, why it didn't matter if he understood or not.

She supposed on some level, with Len, she felt like she had nothing to lose. Oh, certainly, he could devastate her if he wanted to, but when it came to things like this, while he didn't pull punches, he wasn't cruel or vicious either. With Len, it would always be a clean cut.

"Th-there are worse things," she said, staring at the ground next to her leg. "After all, e-everyone has a h-hell." She wondered what his was.

He looked at her, head tilted, and studied her for a moment before turning back to his lunch without voicing his conclusion.

She appreciated that he didn't ask what brought her up here. She was pretty sure he knew, and it was nice of him not to make her squirm.

"O-oh," she said, recalling the tail end of Saturday. "D-did things with your m-mother w-work out alright? I'm s-sorry about th-that . . . w-well, also for the m-misunderstanding. I d-didn't put that w-well, did I?" she remarked, cheeks warming at the awful memory. Although, as Usaki had pointed out, it made for a funny story.

She thought a brief smile might have flickered across his face, but she couldn't be sure.

"It was fine. Well, it was . . . uncomfortable," he allowed. "But it wasn't anything serious."

She wondered how he explained the flowers to his mother, or if he let himself be cornered into saying anything at all. She almost grinned. She'd have liked to see that.

"I'm g-glad. At the t-time, I was s-sure I'd faint f-from embarrassment," she confessed with a pained smile. This is nice, she thought. Pleasant. Unexpectedly so.

He grimaced, clearly remembering as well.

"If you had, we might have escaped sooner."

There was no humorous inflection or sarcastic undertone and it was not accompanied by a smile or any change in expression. In fact, it took her a moment to process it, but she thought . . . she thought he might have just made a joke. And whether he had or not, she'd already started laughing.

"H-how so?" she asked, watching him watch her with that indefinable look that tended to stir the butterflies ever-sleeping in her stomach. She brushed off the discomfort and decided she didn't mind it. It confused her, but the day suddenly seemed to be going blessedly well, and she thought maybe it was because she seemed to be thinking less than usual. Rather, she was not overthinking, and it was nice. She could and probably would overthink later.

He turned back to his lunch, but did not move to eat any of it.

"My mother couldn't exactly make accusations if you were unconscious. And I, of course, would be obligated to move you to somewhere more comfortable - conveniently anywhere but there," he elaborated, his smooth, quiet voice laced with irony - not soft, but softer than usual.

She continued laughing, the scene dramatized in her head, complete with an exaggerated swoon on her part and Len valiantly whisking her to the chaise in the study or wherever he might have taken her had that happened.

"I-it's just as well," she said once she finished. "My housekeeper and d-driver were greatly am-mused, and I w-wouldn't want to deprive them."

He gave a faint smile, and shook his head.

"No, I suppose not," he agreed. She returned the smile, and was a little regretful when they descended into an easy silence. On the other hand, she had just gotten more out of the encounter than she had any right to expect. It should have been a disaster from the moment she burst through the door and started looking around like an idiot, only to turn around and realize he'd been watching the whole time, but instead, it had gone brilliantly. At least, by her standards, she reflected. For anyone else, that would just be a conversation like any other.

She, on the other hand, had actual conversations so rarely, that this one was noteworthy.

Shoko was disappointed when the bell rang, and she packed up her lunch, trying not to feel morose, as Len did the same.

They left the rooftop, walking in silence until their paths separated, at which point she suddenly felt awkward, like she should say something.

"Th-thank you for l-letting me eat with you," was what she decided on. He acknowledged her gratitude with a nod and a murmured, suitably polite response. And then, as it looked like it was time to turn around and go back to class, she knew what she wanted to say.

"Ah, um, Tsukimori-s-senpai, if it's a-alright, c-could I eat l-lunch up there again t-tomorrow? I-I'll try not t-to be a bother," she assured him, trying not to look too hopeful, trying not to be intrusive. He blinked, then inclined his head in assent.

"Of course, if you'd like to," he agreed, and bid her farewell.

It took all her willpower not to skip back to the classroom like a crazy person.


And so she did eat lunch there with him not only the next day, but every day that week and the next. Somehow in only a few days time, she started anticipating lunchtime with nervous excitement, checking the clock repeatedly even though the bell would let her know. She stopped waiting for the crowd of students to thin out, choosing to brave them immediately instead. She liked to get there before him, liked the feeling of waiting for someone, liked the sharp lift in her spirits as soon as he stepped through the door. Liked knowing he'd be there, without fail.

Sometimes they stayed quiet, just absorbing the day. She was beginning to like those comfortable silences almost as well as she liked their conversation, now that it had become a regular occurrence. She didn't have to worry when the lunch hour ended, because tomorrow promised another one.

And sometimes they talked. About school, about their parents, about their music, about the flowers on the potted plants next to the benches. They flitted from one topic to another, sometimes serious, sometimes light. She found herself being honest, found the comfort in having someone listen to her. Surprisingly - or maybe not, given that it was him - she tended to carry the conversations. He didn't say much at all, but even though she spoke more, she still didn't talk that much either. She liked that she could talk when she had something to say, but beyond that, he didn't expect her to entertain him.

Really, Shoko liked everything about these encounters. She liked the fresh air and the atmosphere, she liked thinking about things she'd never thought about, she liked being comfortable with someone else and at the same time, being comfortable with herself. She thought she might even love that. She was too busy watching him, listening to him, feeling his presence, to look in at herself. Too focused on him, nearly enthralled, that she didn't have the extra space in her mind to worry about herself, what she said, what she did. It felt like walking outside and seeing something separate from the same old dusty interior she was usually trapped in. She liked the person she was when she was with him. Someone a little less shy, a little more carefree, a little more interesting. Someone he thought worth talking to, worth hearing.

Best of all, though, she liked him. It frightened her how much. How much she treasured that half hour every day above any other. She would never have thought that of all the people she'd met that year, Len would be the one she'd feel so much herself with, the one she felt as though she'd really become friends with.

It was so unlikely, so extraordinary, she still marveled that it had happened at all. What were the odds that things had happened as they were? That through the concours, he'd gone from being a secret fixation to a terrifying acquaintance, and then in recent weeks, a slightly less terrifying acquaintance to a puzzling attachment, and now to friend.

She supposed it was a waste of time considering it. She should just be grateful that she had this now. Really, she shouldn't be considering any of it. March was drawing to a close, and the school year would end soon. Exams were coming up, and she didn't need to be hopelessly distracted by this when she needed to be studying.

"A-are you ready for exams?" It was the Friday of the second week she'd been eating up here, and the subject had come up while they were discussing the focus of the classes that week on reviews.

She suspected the question was pointless as soon as she said it. Of course he would be ready for exams. Len would no doubt pass with flying colors, as he did with everything.

"Yes, I believe so," he replied, his words without conceit. She nodded.

"You'll p-probably get perfect marks," she agreed glumly, pushing a piece of lettuce around in the lacquered wood box Takano had prepared for her. She herself was not an idiot, and she did study, but she always had pre-exam nerves. Especially since she would be tested on her actual playing, as well, forced to stand up in front of the examiner's and perform. Though that wouldn't be nearly as bad as the concours had been.

He tilted his head, a faint arch to his brow.

"Should I take that as a compliment? I'm not certain what to make of that."

She shook her head with a wry smile.

"N-no, if I were going to c-compliment you, it would definitely be on s-something else," she told him truthfully, not thinking much about the statement.

He started, an ever-so-slight, halting movement that she almost missed. She wished she had, because now she realized her statement had been somewhat ambiguous, and she felt a little embarrassed. Luckily, she knew better than to try and backtrack and fix it. She did not do backtracking well. It usually ended in disaster.

Shoko was half afraid he was going to ask her what it was she'd compliment him on, but instead he opted to turn his head away from her in order to examine a square of concrete on his right while he took a sip of tea.

After he was done, he turned back to her.

"And are you ready for exams?"

She hesitated.

"M-mostly. I think I'll b-be okay on the written ones, b-but I'm a little anxious about th-the instrumental prof-ficiency portion. Th-that one is kind of hard to p-practice, because the problem is n-nervousness," she confided with a sigh. She wished she could go anywhere and do anything without a thought to the people surrounding, like he could.

He mulled over this for a few moments as he chewed a bite of rice and swallowed.

"If you want to play something now, as practice, I'll act as audience. You can't expect to get very far if you're still crippled by performance anxiety."

She winced. She knew that, of course, and in all fairness, she was getting better. But he was right. She did have a tendency to shy away even when the opportunity arose for her to get some practice in that department.

In fact, she wanted to shy away now at the suggestion. To play with Len as an audience of one seemed somehow so . . . intimate. She knew he was offering as one musician to another, but still, her heart was assuming an odd rhythm. And even without that, for Shoko to play for someone who always performed flawlessly, never allowing any emotions, if he had them, to interfere, was very frightening. She didn't think she could ever hope to achieve that, and she was sure he'd be able to tell.

She'd come to learn he was strangely accepting of most things, but when it came to music, he was a harsh critic. She wasn't sure she'd be able to withstand his calculating gaze on her for the duration of a song.

But if she declined, she realized, she would only prove his point, that she would never get anywhere because she couldn't overcome her shyness.

With anyone else, at any other time, she would probably bitterly admit to herself that no, she never would overcome her shyness, and that she was fine with that.

But his expectant gaze on her left her wanting to prove herself to him, to be somehow a little better, a little stronger, a little braver. Even if she wasn't any of those things, she didn't want him to see the weak coward she'd always known herself to be.

Fingers trembling, she gingerly opened her clarinet case and removed it from the velvet lining.

She inhaled, trying not to shake. Her heart pounded and white spots covered her vision, but she arranged it against her lips and willed herself to play. Show him, she thought to herself, praying for courage. She could feel his eyes on her, those unreadable, unwavering eyes. Somehow, nervous as she was, she felt almost triumphant to have him focused entirely on her. Somehow, even as it actually contributed to her nervousness, it also made her feel so much less small and insignificant. Show him someone worthwhile. Don't let him see what you are, she begged of herself. Let him see what maybe, just maybe, you could be, if you had a strong enough reason to.

She relaxed her shoulders, breathing in deeply, and played.

She kept her eyes closed, unwilling to look back at him, trying not to obsess over whether her fingers and lungs worked at the right pace, in the right motions. She tried to give him a song that was not clouded by hesitation and the accursed shyness that slowed the notes. She tried for something stronger, willed him to hear her as something more. More than she was, more than she suspected she would be.

And then it was done with and her hands fell to her sides, one clutching her instrument as she squared her shoulders and waited for his criticism, knowing it was hopeless, knowing all he'd probably heard was a meaningless, well-played song that could have been great if only the person playing it were not so lacking.

She opened her eyes and he was standing, still looking at her with unfathomable eyes. The noises of the day went on around them as she waited, confused, as he slowly walked toward her, as if he moved unconsciously. A cloud drifted over the sun, casting a shade followed by light and then shade again.

What is he doing? she wondered frantically, trying to decipher the strange behavior. He stopped just in front of her, looking at her. She looked back at him, suddenly unable to think as he leaned closer, her feet frozen into place.

And all of the sudden, his fingers came to rest beneath her chin, tiling it up as his head came toward hers, and the situation crashed down on her, kick-starting her pulse into madness.

He's going to kiss me, she realized numbly. He's so close. Too close, too close, too close, she thought, wide eyes taking in his beautiful face as it drifted into unbearably close proximity to her own. Her gaze fell to his ever-so-slightly parted lips. Which were just about to cover her own.

Without thinking, she shoved him away.

Horrified, she watched him stumble back, uncertain why she'd pushed him away, knowing only that all of the sudden she thought she felt light-headed and unaccountably afraid.

"I-I," she started, her mouth dry as he managed to regain his balance, blinking as if he'd been shaken from a trance.

What had she done? More importantly, what had he done? Why would he . . . why . . .

She didn't understand, couldn't think, didn't want to think. She spun around, yanked open the door, and ran, leaving the empty clarinet case, the remnants of her lunch, and a very baffled Len behind.


"Hey, Fuyu-" Usaki began to greet her cheerily, then stopped as she got a good look at Shoko.

Shoko's hand went nervously to her face as she half-heartedly wondered what was wrong.

"Oh dear," Usaki said on a sigh. "Well, get in. You're in luck, because Takano was baking something when I left and you sure look like you could use some sugar."

Shoko nodded, feeling somewhat dead inside, and climbed in.

After the incident on the roof and her rapid flight back to the classroom, she'd spent the next two periods drowning in her shock and humiliation, not hearing a word of what was being said in the class. Questions swam through her muddled brain at the same time she replayed the scene, fighting to keep her lunch down as she thought of how close he'd been. He had touched her, for heaven's sake. Her chin seemed to burn at the memory.

And then she would recall the way she'd brought her hands up and slammed them against his chest, pushing him away. She felt sick and ashamed and also what she thought might be regret, which of course led to confusion.

Had she wanted him to kiss her or not? She'd shoved him away, quite brutally, which meant she definitely didn't want him to. And yet she found herself restlessly wondering if only she'd stayed still and let him . . .

But then she would shake off that dangerous thought and focus on the fact that for someone like Len to kiss someone like her and be rebuked must have offended him horribly. Why oh why, if she didn't want it to happen, could she not simply have backed up or turned her head or told him to stop before he'd even gotten that close instead of resorting to that violent shove?

Because she wasn't thinking, and instead she'd panicked.

Oh, how she hated herself.

"Shoko?"

Her head snapped up, and Usaki was looking at her in the rearview mirror.

"W-what?"

"You were looking very fierce all of the sudden."

"S-sorry . . . I just . . . um . . . today w-was not . . ." she trailed off as Usaki shook her head.

"It's alright, we'll talk when we get home and have gotten you settled in with some tea and a pastry."

Her stomach, which Shoko thought would never be the same again, was oddly comforted by the suggestion. She nodded, turning her gaze to the window, and Usaki silently continued driving.

Five minutes later, they pulled into the drive, and Usaki killed the engine before letting Shoko out.

"Well, then, let's find you something sweet and then you can talk about whatever it is that managed to kill the perpetual high you've been on for the last two weeks," she told her, and set off towards the door.

Shoko looked up at her in surprise, but followed.

"W-what do you m-mean?"

Usaki rolled her eyes.

"You've been acting like a monkey who just discovered a self-replenishing horde of bananas."

"W-what?" Shoko repeated. Had she really been acting like that? She hadn't noticed . . . but it was true, she'd felt very light and carefree the last couple of weeks.

And now it was over, and she had an awful weight bearing down on her once more.

Usaki sighed.

"And now you look like someone put your kitten down the garbage disposal." She unlocked the door, nudging Shoko inside, and called out to Takano.

"Miko-chan, are you done baking yet? Fuyuumi-san's had a rough day and needs a pick-me-up."

A muffled response, and then Takano appeared in the doorway leading from the Kitchen to the living area, oven mitts on both hands.

"What's this about a rough day?"

"I don't know, I figured she'd want to settle in with some comfort food before she talked," Usaki explained, gently guiding Shoko to a chair as if she thought Shoko might have trouble walking.

Shoko looked at her with half-hearted exasperation.

"I can w-walk, Usaki-san. I'm sad, not i-infirm."

Usaki tossed her a cheeky smile, but looked mildly surprised.

"Good to know your spirit's still intact. If anything, I'd say you're still doing better now than you were a month ago."

"W-what are you t-talking about?" Shoko asked curiously.

"Nothing, nothing. Ah, thank you Miko-chan!" She said, turning her attention to the steaming cups of tea Takano had set on the table.

"You're welcome. Let me get you a scone, Fuyuumi-san, and then you can tell us all about it." She returned to the kitchen, and Shoko scooted forward in her chair and picked up her tea, letting the hot liquid sting it's way down her throat.

"Ow," she said, but kept drinking it.

Takano returned with scones, and joined them at the table. She and Usaki leaned forward idly in expectant silence, waiting for her to speak.

Shoko nibbled at the scone for a moment, and then leaned back, wondering what to say.

She was unaccustomed to sharing her worries. She'd stopped trying to confide in her mother long ago, for despite her good intentions, she just didn't understand. When Shoko did manage to get her alone and confess her troubles, her mother would listen for a bit and then break in with some non-specific advice, such as "I'm sorry, dear . . . just try your best next time!" or "You shouldn't think so hard about things. Just let it go and enjoy yourself."

Which sounded good in theory, but was much harder in practice. And Shoko wondered if that was even what she wanted. Of course, she'd like to overcome her debilitating shyness, but she'd also seen the other end of the spectrum in her parents. She loved them and even admired them, and was happy they were happy, but she didn't think their lifestyle would ever suit her. Surely there was a happy medium somewhere?

But she'd never found it, and after so many years of keeping quiet and wallowing in her isolation, here she was, ready to confide in these people a second time. But the first time had been a more lighthearted debate over the first excitement Shoko'd had in a long time.

This time, it was over an experience that was so alien to her she felt shaken and defeated.

She looked up at them, and they looked back at her, waiting, Usaki with a little impatience, and Takano with endless stores of compassion.

She suddenly wanted to cry. Her parents could not have left her in better hands, she thought. She felt almost as though they were her friends.

"Well?" Usaki prodded gently. "What happened, sweetheart?"

"I . . ." What had happened? Shoko was still trying to figure that out herself. "I d-don't really know. I mean, I do, b-but I'm so c-confused."

"Oh," Usaki said, leaning back as comprehension dawned. "This is about your violinist, isn't it? I thought it might be."

"He's n-not my violinist," she said defensively, but it sounded weak even to Shoko.

"Alright then, the violinist. What'd he do? Should I go fight him or something?"

"N-no! He d-didn't do anyth- w-well, he did, b-but it wasn't . . ."

Usaki blinked at her.

"H-he tried to kiss me," she blurted out, and immediately slumped in her chair, her cheeks burning. There it was. Len Tsukimori had tried to kiss her.

And she'd pushed him away.

And now she couldn't decide how she felt about that.

Usaki's eyes widened, and even Takano had trouble disguising her surprise.

"Wait," Usaki said suddenly, straightening. "What do you mean he tried to kiss you? Did he miss?"

"N-no . . ." she swallowed. "I p-pushed him away."

"You what?" Usaki blinked at her like she were some kind of alien. "I thought you liked this guy?"

Shoko stared helplessly at the table, frustration thickening her throat with tears.

"I don't kn-know if I do," she said, then thought about it. Thought about the way she anticipated the sight of him like a starving man might anticipate food, the way she listened so carefully whenever he spoke, savoring the sound, the way he just made her want to smile. The way for some reason, he made her so dissatisfied with the way she was she actually tried to change it, when she'd given up so long ago. The way in some ways, she had actually succeeded.

"No," she said, retracting her statement of uncertainty. "I do. I-I like him." She bit her lip. "I like him a-a lot, but I d-don't know what t-to do about it."

Usaki gazed back at her, looking frankly baffled.

"You could always, you know, let him kiss you."

"B-but I was so surprised! No one's ever . . . no one's ever w-wanted to kiss me, let alone t-tried it, and then he, of all p-people . . . I-I never even thought he might . . . and why did he d-do it? He c-couldn't possibly like me . . . I'm not . . . I'm not . . ." I'm not Kahoko. The thought rose unexpectedly, and she suddenly felt cold.

Kahoko, she thought, horrified. Here she'd been on cloud nine, skipping up to the rooftop everyday to meet him for lunch, and she hadn't even once considered Kahoko. Kahoko, who obviously liked him. Of course. Just because I didn't want to think about it doesn't mean it isn't true. She likes him. How could she not have remembered? She hadn't spared it a single thought, just chased after the half hour of bliss that was his company, and completely disregarded Kahoko's feelings. Certainly, she'd never considered herself competition. Len would never be interested in someone like Shoko, and Shoko hadn't yet identified the complicated feelings she had. Hadn't wanted to.

But it was different now, and she felt like the worst friend ever. How could she?

" . . . you think he doesn't like you, of course he does! Usually if a boy tries something with you, it means he likes you. Which isn't to say he's in love with you or anything, but at the very least he's attracted to you," Usaki was saying, and Shoko dazedly returned to the conversation, guilt weighing on her.

"It d-doesn't matter," she said, shaking her head determinedly. "I w-was right to push him away," she said, ignoring the remaining doubt her words brought on.

"What makes you say that?" Usaki was looking at her like she was crazy. "You like him."

She straightened, trying not to think about that, or the fact that this meant giving up the precious time they'd spent at lunch. Besides, after today, there was little hope of salvaging the friendship.

The thought sent a stab of pain through her. More than kisses or romance, the idea of giving up one of the precious few friends she had devastated her.

But that's life, she told herself.

"B-because Kaho-chan likes him," she explained simply.

"Oh," they both said.

"Well," Takano began, as Usaki was mulling over this new development. "Sometimes, in order to achieve happiness, you might inadvertently take away someone else's. You cannot hold yourself responsible, though. Denying yourself things for the sake of others is all good and well to a certain point, but it's a bad habit to fall into."

"She's my f-friend." But so was Len.

"I know, dear. It's hard. But also remember that that doesn't mean she has any more claim on him than you do."

"Actually," Usaki started, wiser in the ways of girl friendships than Takano, but she was silenced by a stern look from Takano.

"Honestly, the rules or female code of honor or whatever you call it is nonsense. It would be different if they were dating, but even then, it would be their problem, not yours. The fact is, he doesn't have any obligation towards her."

"B-but I do," Shoko whispered. "I knew, but I w-went ahead . . ."

Takano sighed.

"You weren't trying to be disloyal, dear. The point is, you're both so young. Her feelings will be hurt, but that sort of wound heals quickly."

"But-"

"Let me finish. You need to make a choice," she said gently. "In the long run, this boy probably won't matter to either of you. So you have to decide if he's worth your friendship."

Shoko looked at her feet miserably. Which friendship? Her friendship with him, or her friendship with Kahoko?

"But you also need to remember that if you give up on him, and she ends up with him, that will also damage your friendship whether you want it to or not. You're only human, Fuyuumi-san. It will be impossible not to feel a little betrayed, whether you have a right to or not. And knowing you, you'll probably keep quiet about it and let it eat at you when you're by yourself."

"But if I a-act on it, I'll feel t-too guilty. I can't," she said helplessly. "Th-there's no winning. Kaho-chan . . . she's been s-so kind to me," she explained, realizing how true it was. "She's so n-nice to everyone. I c-can't," she repeated. "She deserves, f-far more than I do."

"Now wait just a-" Usaki jumped in, but Takano gave her another look.

"If that's how you feel, then that's your answer. But don't act hastily. Think about it, and then decide."

How? she wanted to know. How can I? And how did I even end up here? She felt like screaming.

"O-okay," she said numbly. "I'm going to g-go play my clarinet, now. I-I'll just be upstairs." She rose to her feet unsteadily, and headed towards the stairs.

She paused, and turned.

"Th-thank you guys," she said, genuinely grateful despite being more confused now than when she'd gotten home.

They nodded.

"Fuyuumi-san," Usaki said suddenly, staring at her intently. "You should . . . you should give yourself a little more credit, okay?"

Shoko blinked, wondering what that could possibly mean.

"O-okay," she said, and then did what she always did best.

She retreated.