"Dad, I'm home!"

Sliding into her house slippers, Mira shut the door quietly behind her. Then she hurried to the living room, worried tension building in her chest.

Her dad was exactly where she thought he'd be, sprawled out on the couch, eyes closed, and an empty bottle of sake dangling from one hand. She knelt down beside him, checked his breathing and his pulse, and then pulled a blanket over him, tucking it gently around his unconscious form. Only then was she able to heave a sigh of relief. Everything is okay, she thought. Everything is going to be okay.

It was late, so Mira went to the kitchen to make dinner. While it was cooking, she laid out her school books on the kitchen counter and got started on her homework. She had finished her Physics homework in class, but she still had a short essay to write, as well as reading homework and a journal entry for homeroom. Sighing, she pulled out a pencil and began to write.

After the rice had finished cooking and she'd taken the beef and vegetables off the stove, Mira divided the meal onto two plates. Then she seran-wrapped the first plate, slid it into the fridge, and gathered her books. She left her dad a quick note — "dinner is in the fridge" — swung her book bag over a shoulder, and took her plate upstairs to her room.

Once she had set her books out again and placed her food on a low shelf next to her desk, Mira opened her class journal. On the first page was a hastily copied prompt.

Journal Prompt: Tell me about a challenge you've faced, and how you overcame it?

Answer: I remember when I was little, my mom always told me to keep smiling, no matter what. She said that my smile was the best gift I could give a person, and that joy was contagious. She told me that life would be hard, and that she couldn't promise that it would never hurt, but that if I just kept smiling, I'd be able to keep my joy, and nothing could ever take it away from me.

Last year, when my mom was in the hospital …

Mira sighed and let her head drop down to the table. It felt like static had collected inside her brain, making it hard to think. Rolling her head to the side, she glanced at the photograph on her nightstand — a smiling blonde woman holding a squealing baby in her arms.

How am I ever going to do this without you? she thought. Mira reached out, wrapping her fingertips around the cold frame, and pulled it close to her chest.

Mira looked more like her mother than her father. Her mom had been American, and the blonde hair and blue eyes Mira had inherited from her caused no small amount of trouble. Add that to her love of science, and the fact that she was always reading, or studying, or lost in a daydream, and you had the perfect recipe for never quite fitting in.

She wasn't an outcast — not exactly. She was part of the popular group, but they treated her more like an exotic pet than a friend. She was a collector's piece, a curiosity, a zoo exhibit — but never a person.

Things had gotten significantly worse last year, of course. Before, she had just been "That Blonde Girl," and "The Clumsy One," and "That Girl With Her Nose Always in a Book." But now she could add, "The Girl Whose Father Had Been Fired Because He Was a Drunk," to her long list of titles.

The teasing wasn't always obvious, and it was usually easier to pretend she didn't notice. She would smile and laugh, and act like the jokes were just as funny to her as they were to everyone else.

But today had been different. For the first time since she could remember, someone had spoken to her like she was normal. Like maybe she was a person after all. "I wish you could have seen his smile," she said, hugging the picture tighter.

Mira stood and set the picture back on her nightstand.

"Good night Mom," she whispered, placing a kiss on the smiling woman's cool, glass paneled face. "I miss you."

Practice had been long and hard, but it had cleared his brain somewhat. Mira's smile was still buzzing around back there, in the recesses of his mind, but he could think now, more or less. He just had to keep himself occupied.

"Your turn."

Miyuki glanced down. Yuuki Tetsuya was still terrible at shogi, but that move wasn't half bad. "You sure you want to make that play?" Miyuki asked. He was bluffing, but he couldn't stop a wicked grin from spreading across his face.

Yuuki didn't flinch. If nothing else, he was great at keeping a straight face. "You're only saying that because you are afraid you're going to lose," he replied. "Just make your move."

Miyuki snorted. "Lose against you? In your dreams."

He was just about to place his next piece when the door opened, and Kuramochi came charging in. "I swear," he said, "if I have to deal with that idiot for one more minute, I'm gonna kill him."

"Ever heard of knocking?"

Kuramochi ignored him. Instead, he started pacing, back and forth, back and forth, until Miyuki knew someone was about to be killed — and it wasn't going to be Sawamura. "Please ask the coach to let him back on the team. I'm begging you," Kuramochi said.

Miyuki rolled his eyes. "I told you to ask him yourself," he said. "Or ask Tetsu to talk to him — he is the captain after all. Leave me out of it."

Across from him, Yuuki shook his head. "The coach will let him back on the team when he's ready," he said. "Leave me out of it too."

"Your roommate, your problem," Miyuki added.

Kuramochi sighed and dropped onto one of the beds, clearly defeated. He was silent for a few minutes, but then he turned to Yuuki with a smile that made Miyuki's skin crawl. "Did you hear?" he asked, "Miyuki's got a crush."

Across the room, one of Miyuki's roommates laughed. "Seriously? I didn't think you thought about anything other than baseball. I didn't even realize you noticed girls."

Miyuki remained silent. It was true he'd never really thought about girls that way — partly because he'd been too absorbed in baseball, and partly because he had intentionally kept his distance. Other than Rei and the team managers, the only girl Miyuki had had much contact with was his mother. And she had left.

"Who?" his other roommate asked.

"Mira Hayakawa. She's in our class."

Miyuki gritted his teeth. This wasn't something he wanted to talk about. Not here, not now. Not when he wasn't even sure how he felt himself yet.

"Good luck with that," his roommate said, still laughing. "She's never had a boyfriend, though most of the guys in our school have asked. Miyuki might have a chance though, girls are always swarming all over him —"

Miyuki cut him off. "Leave me alone," he said, voice harsh.

"Come on man, we're just having fun."

"I said, leave me alone."

"It's not a big deal," Kuramochi said. "Calm down."

Miyuki pounded his fist onto the desk and stood. "Just shut up," he snapped. Before anyone could say anything else he left, slamming the door behind him on his way out.

It was cold outside, just cold enough that he could see his breath, illuminated by a nearby street light. He'd been too angry to think of grabbing a coat, but he wasn't about to go back inside now. I just need a little fresh air to clear my head, he thought. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he started to walk.

He made one full lap around the dorms before finally coming to a halt. After a moment spent staring blankly at the dim light of the vending machines, he pressed his back against the wall and slid down to the ground. What am I even doing?

It was rare for him to ever get truly angry, and to be this worked up because his friends had been teasing him about a girl was ridiculous at best. He knew they'd meant well … so why had it made his blood boil? Why had he stormed out of there? And why was he wandering around alone in the dark? It's because they were asking questions I'm not ready to answer yet, he thought. But it was more than that.

He had tried to ignore it all day. Mixed in with the butterflies, with that odd breathlessness, was another feeling. A cold clenching in his stomach. A tight bubble of anxiety in his chest. He hadn't felt this way in a long time — not since he was little, in fact. When it came right down to it, he'd been angry because he was afraid.

And yet … despite that fear, he wanted to see her again. More than anything, I just want to talk to her again, he thought. I want to get to know her. I want … what do I want?

"You forgot your coat," Yuuki said, approaching from the direction of Miyuki's room. He dropped the coat on Miyuki's lap.

"Thanks."

"May I?" Yuuki asked, gesturing to the ground. When Miyuki nodded, Yuuki dropped down to the ground beside him. For awhile, neither of them spoke.

"Is it worth getting to know someone if they just end up leaving you in the end?" Miyuki asked, breaking the silence.

"Would it be better to go through your entire life having never truly cared about someone else, just because you were too afraid to take the risk?" Yuuki asked back.

Closing his eyes, Miyuki let his head fall back against the wall. "That's the question, isn't it?" he murmured, half to himself. The truth was, he didn't really know the answer.

"Mira Hayakawa, huh? You've got good taste."

Miyuki smiled, opening his eyes to stare up at the stars glimmering dimly above. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" he said. Yuuki laughed in response. "It seems silly, I mean, I barely know her. We spoke a little during Physics, but beyond that, she's a complete stranger to me. So why can't I get her out of my head?"

"That's just how it happens sometimes," Yuuki said with a shrug.

"It was more than that though," Miyuki replied. "When she smiled at me I …" he trailed off, eyes staring out at something far in the distance. "It was like I knew her. Like she wasn't a stranger after all. I saw myself in that smile."