"He's the handsome one, isn't he?" Ayako asks, turning to Kotoko. "I was so surprised when I heard that he didn't have a girlfriend!"
Kotoko and Yuuko glance at each other, wide-eyed, stunned. Ayako giggles at the sight, cocking her own head.
"Am I wrong? Is he not single?" She asks, still laughing.
Yuuko frowns at her, and Kotoko folds her arms. The two of them are eerily similar, though visibly, they're polar opposites.
"You don't have anytime to think about boys. Focus on your work," Yuuko replies sternly, and Kotoko nods, full agreement.
"That's right! You need to listen to your older sister," Kotoko says, sticking her shoulders out. "She's very smart, and she works very hard. Be like her!"
Yuuko pauses for a second. She turns to glance at Kotoko.
Ayako laughs harder at the two of them. "Why didn't she win the tournament then? I think she should be like me," she counters, and with a wave, Ayako walks off.
Yuuko and Kotoko storm after her, hands balled in fists.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Yeah! Get back here!" Kotoko calls out, slowing down when both sisters glare at her. Their faces have the same expression, uncannily alike, as if they are actually twins. Kotoko finds it hard to believe that they're actually not twins.
"I'm going to a friend's house," Ayako replies, leaning against the fence. "It's none of your business."
"Is this friend of yours a guy?"
"Why do you care? Not like you can relate, Yuuko," Ayako mutters, unzipping her small sweater. "Besides, I'm not giving up on Irie. Hope that answered your question!"
Kotoko's eyes widen. She can see Yuuko twitch in place. For the sake of her own sanity — and mostly of out pure, unrestricted shock — Kotoko stays quiet.
The tension between the two sisters multiples right before her eyes.
"You can't possibly mean that!" Yuuko sputters. "Leaving practice just to hang out with your friends — you can't do that!"
"Well," Ayako says, smugly. "Anything's possible when you're number one." She giggles, tucking a hair strand behind her ear. "Irie and I have plenty of similarities, it seems!"
They both watch, stunned, as Ayako skips away, disappearing, clutching her sweater in her hands.
Kotoko almost starts crying. Yet another rival, and it's a Matsumoto double! She turns to Yuuko, surveys her.
Matsumoto sighs, her shoulders finally falling from their usual stiff hold. She catches Kotoko staring at her, catches Kotoko's eyes swimming with tears.
She sighs as Kotoko swipes at her eyes, haphazardly.
She's so…emotional.
"I can't stand her," Yuuko says, out of the blue. She starts to walk away, slowly. Kotoko takes it as a signal to follow her, trailing after Matsumoto. "She's so stuck up and…rude!"
Kotoko frowns. Sounds familiar. Biting her tongue, she decides to keep the yup, she's your sister alright, to herself.
"She's never interested in anything, she never listens, she never helps out — ugh! I'm beyond fed up," Matsumoto continues, bringing a hand to the start of her hairline. "I give up."
Kotoko is quiet. She watches Yuuko, carefully, sees her slumped shoulders and her hand rubbing at her temples. Even her shoelaces are untied; strange for Miss Perfect Matsumoto.
Kotoko reaches out tentatively, and after a moment's hesitation, she pats Yuuko's shoulder.
"It's okay," Kotoko says, quietly. "I can't say I understand you, but, it must be hard."
Matsumoto is silent.
"You must care a lot about her," Kotoko says, a hint of sadness in her voice.
Matsumoto pauses.
What's this about?
"I thought you hated my sister," she says, turning her head to side-eye Aihara. "Why the sudden change?"
"What? No, I, I mean she is annoying, but hate? That's a really strong — "
Matsumoto pulls free, shrugs off Kotoko's touch. She snorts, and Kotoko's face falls. "To think I thought you were on my side," Matsumoto says, offhandedly. "I don't care about her at all," she adds, glancing at Kotoko.
"Sure," Kotoko agrees, happily, easily. "I don't either."
Matsumoto sighs. "You don't believe me."
Kotoko laughs, a little too quickly. "I never said that," she says, glancing around. "I — I believe you, you hate your sister!"
"It's just that I can't stand to see her wasting her potential like that," Yuuko admits, looking at her shoes. She doesn't move, even after registering that they're untied. "She's got so much to look forward to, but all she does is be lazy. It's so…disheartening, so unbelievable."
Kotoko clasps her hands behind her back, continues listening.
"She doesn't have to work as hard as I do, but still. I'd like to see her put some effort in."
"This is still about tennis, right?"
Matsumoto pauses. "Well, yes, but even with her schoolwork, she doesn't put in any effort. It's terrible."
"Oh? Is she a genius? Like Irie?" Kotoko's eyes widen as she brings a hand to cover her open mouth. "Oh my God! Is that why she said that she had some similarities with him earlier?"
Matsumoto almost stamps her foot on the ground. "No! Of course not!" There are so many negatives that come with hanging around Kotoko.
She brings her hand back to her temples, her frown deepening when Kotoko's shoulders slump.
Yuuko sighs, loudly. "No. She's definitely not a genius. She's just used to being good at most things, so she doesn't work for anything. Now that she's finishing up high school, things will become more difficult. Wait. No. They're already more difficult — she's barely passing her classes, actually — but she's still unwilling to put in the work!"
Kotoko nods, slowly.
Matsumoto wonders if she's even paying attention.
"Have you tried tutoring her yourself?" Kotoko finally asks. The amount of optimism present in her voice is astounding. "You're…not a bad teacher."
"I don't have the time to," Yuuko replies, shaking her head. "I have a few days where I'm free, but most of that time happens to be around night. No one has the same schedule as me, believe me, I've tried."
"Oh. That's too bad," Kotoko says, and Matsumoto is surprised at the honest, apologetic look on her face.
"It's not that much of a problem," Yuuko says, glancing away. "I'll manage."
She waves a weak goodbye to Aihara, leaves her standing there.
It's no big deal if their conversation ends abruptly. It's not like she's friends with the girl.
At first, she's not terribly sure if it actually was Aihara and Irie. She thinks she sees them walking alongside the sidewalk, passing a bakery. She'd been at the nearby cafe, in the city's center, where she always dines at.
It's not like Ayako will ever make her food. No, it's always Ayako waiting on her to make dinner.
Cooking all evening is tiring; Matsumoto is sick of it.
So she visits this cafe frequently. The coffee is good, the buttered croissants are even better, and it's not too filling, no, it fills her just enough so that when she does arrive home, all she needs is a small meal.
Perhaps a dessert as well. She should stop by the bakery, pick up a carton of cookies or something similar.
Matsumoto glances out the window of the cafe — charmed by the gleam of the clean windows, sees that just across the small, gem of a cafe, stands a bakery.
It is then that she spots them. The one person she'd rather be with right now, and the one person she'd rather not see.
The Irie-lookalike frowns just like Irie, keeps his hands in his pockets just like Irie, and even has on the same, close fitting trousers.
It is him. With Aihara.
Matsumoto doesn't even need to stare too long to recognize Aihara; that girl is just too noticeable.
The realization is crushing.
Matsumoto watches as Irie grabs Aihara's arm, switches positions with her on the sidewalk. He's annoyed, walking quickly ahead of the girl, hands still stuffed in his pockets. His anger always radiates a degree of…childishness, though Matsumoto knows that Aihara is capable of bringing out the angsty inner child of anyone, really, so she doesn't blame Irie.
Still. The gap of space between Aihara and Irie is too large. It's almost like they're not even walking together, almost like they're strangers.
Good. That's the way things should be, if we're being serious.
Honestly, Aihara must be a different kind of stupid if she can't even walk alongside the cars. How fragile is she? Needing Irie to walk alongside the road, just so she can stay safe?
It doesn't make sense. Matsumoto tries to comprehend the situation. Aihara cannot be that dumb, no. As much as it pains for Matsumoto to admit it, she knows that Aihara can fend for herself, most of the time, anyways.
It's not like her to be afraid of a car on the street.
There is one possibility that makes her frown. She dismisses it quickly, turns away from the window. She'd been staring at it, zoned out, staring after Irie and Aihara though they've long since passed.
Irie…must be taking precautions, Matsumoto settles on. He must be making sure of her safety, for some, odd reason.
If something does end up happening to Aihara, it can't be blamed on him later. Yes. That is why. They do…share the same house, after all, he'd likely be at fault. That is why he cares so much.
Yes. That sounds right. Irie has always been the precautionary type, yes, he has.
There is nothing more to it.
Aihara had told Matsumoto to wait for her in the locker room; Matsumoto doesn't. Why should she? She's not obliged to listen to Aihara.
Matsumoto waits outside the locker room. There is a clear difference. Plus, there is no way she'll be sitting on the bench, waiting. It's better to wait outside. Locker rooms are no place for long conversations. They are for brief, brisk chats. And changing clothes. And for glancing at your physique in those body-length mirrors. That is it.
Besides. She would've waited in the locker room if the subject matter was short. From the look on the girl's face earlier, things looked serious. Things looked bad.
Maybe she's moving away to another country, Matsumoto thinks. That would be…good. Yes. It would be good.
Aihara is annoying. Annoying and slow and noisy and rash and rude at times and too stubborn and unfunny and weird and embarrassing and loud and bothersome and unthinking and too friendly and silly and annoying.
Did she mention that Aihara is annoying?
Well.
Aihara is annoying.
Matsumoto is better than Aihara a million times over.
Another million times over, at that. Three million times better, actually, if she's being honest.
Despite all that, Matsumoto cannot deny that she would feel…saddened if Aihara were to suddenly pack her bags and leave. She can't really say that she would…miss her, but she would feel something similar.
She's entertaining the idea of Aihara prancing around in different European countries when Aihara herself approaches.
The thought of Aihara in a foreign country is shockingly hilarious.
"Really," Matsumoto chides, getting up and off the wall she's been leaning on. She has to fight to rid the smile off her face when she meets Aihara's gaze. "You took forever."
"Sorry," Aihara replies, slightly out of breath. "I had to run here."
"So what's the matter? Are you moving away? Packing your bags to London?"
Aihara blinks.
Has she gotten paler?
Matsumoto sighs. "I guess it's a no, then. Too bad."
Aihara is still quiet.
"…Are you unwell?" Matsumoto takes a step to the side. "Get away from me if you are."
"It's not me — I'm not the one moving away," Aihara says, quietly. "Irie-kun is."
Matsumoto's eyebrows raise. "You can't possibly be serious." Each word comes out slowly. "I can't believe that."
"He's leaving by the end of this week," Aihara continues, staring at her feet. Both of her shoes are untied.
She's such a mess.
"I don't think he'll be coming back for a while. He's not moving too far though, I don't think. Just out of the house."
Matsumoto is quiet. She ignores the way Aihara is swaying back and forth. Most likely a nervous tick, but right now, it is nothing short of annoying.
"Why are you telling me this?" Matsumoto crosses her arms, narrows her eyes. "Why would you tell me this?"
"I…I don't know," Aihara says, slowly. She glances up at Matsumoto. "It's not like Irie-kun would've told you he was moving."
"I would've figured it out myself," Matsumoto replies, evenly. Aihara really has some nerve, placing Matsumoto on that same loveless pedestal of hers.
Sure, Aihara's relationship with Irie is stagnant, but that doesn't mean Matsumoto's relationship with Irie will be. What in the world goes on in that girl's brain? It is almost insulting, for Aihara to doubt Irie's feelings for Matsumoto.
He likes Matsumoto a great deal more than he likes Aihara, that's for sure.
"I don't need any of your pity, by the way. There's no reason for you to tell me this," Matsumoto adds, just to set things straight.
"But, you're…still interested in Irie."
"And what if I am?" Matsumoto tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, folds her arms. "You want to know something, Aihara? It's actually great that Irie is moving out. It's about time you learn that he doesn't belong to you."
"I never said he belongs to me," Kotoko starts, speaking in that shaky, slightly pitched voice of hers. When Matsumoto snorts out loud, Aihara stops talking.
"You sure act like he does," Matsumoto cuts in. "Watching him in the halls, waiting outside for him, asking about him — it's madness! You behave like he's obliged to like you back just because you've been in love with him forever!"
She takes a step closer to Aihara, leans in. Matsumoto's hair falls from her ear, almost covers the sides of her face, frames her serious expression.
"Spare yourself the heartbreak," she continues, not breaking eye contact. "Once you learn that Irie doesn't belong to you, not only will you be happier, but he'll be happier. Isn't that what you want? For your beloved to be happy?"
Aihara blinks, almost three times in a row. She blinks fast enough that Matsumoto suspects that she might start to cry; leans away from the girl.
"I want him to be happy with me," Aihara answers, finally speaking. "He can be happy with me."
"You're selfish," Matsumoto says, unfolding her arms to fix her hair. "Selfish and delusional. Irie is not happy with you. I've seen him with you, plenty of times. He's never looked happy with you. He looks like he's forced to be with you, he looks like you're nothing but a nuisance to him, he, he probably hates being with you!" The words come out fast, too fast, but Matsumoto has been waiting to get this off of her chest; who gives a damn if she's yelling?
"That's not true, he said he didn't hate me — "
"And you were stupid enough to believe him," Matsumoto interjects, harshly. "You were stupid enough to believe Irie. Have you ever looked up at him when you were with him? Gotten a good look at his face?"
Aihara's silence proves plenty.
"I knew it. You've never cared about his feelings, have you? You just want to change them. How selfish can you get?"
"I'm the selfish one? Me? I — I don't think you should be talking," Aihara says, tearing her gaze away the grey, concrete floor. "You just want to break my spirit so that you can get with him. I think that's what's selfish."
"No, I want you to realize that he doesn't like you before you get all heartbroken," Matsumoto says, evenly. "I don't care about your stubborn spirit. I just want you to face reality, for once."
"You've never cared about me before." Aihara is frowning. "You're just pretending to care for me, when in reality, you've got other intentions."
"I don't care about you. I've never once cared about you. I'm only saying this on behalf of Irie. He'd like you to leave him alone."
"You want me to leave him alone so that you can get with him!"
"Stop repeating yourself! I've already said that's not what I want." Matsumoto brings a hand to her head. "I don't care if you still like him," she adds, turning back to glance at Aihara. "Like him all you want. Just…from a distance. That's all I ask."
"I won't do that," Aihara replies. "I'll do whatever I want."
"So you're okay with being selfish?"
"How is that being selfish? My feelings — "
"Your feelings are being forced onto Irie. Why don't we let him decide? Irie should get to pick who he loves, shouldn't he?"
Aihara says nothing, blinks at the ground. Matsumoto waits for disapproval from her, is met with nothing but that same, teary-eyed silence.
"Let's let him decide who he likes better," Matsumoto proposes. "It's only fair that way."
Matsumoto thinks about Aihara long and hard that night. She's nothing more than a silly girl. A silly girl who is content with receiving nothing but a smile from Irie. It is strange, how desperate she is, but at the same time, it is admirable.
Only Aihara can warp desperation into something admirable, only she can twist it into a true love story.
Aihara does really love him, shockingly so, to the point it's practically suffocating. Matsumoto wonders how Irie has been able to avoid drowning in it for this long — they've been living together since high-school. It's a curse, really, nothing more than a curse disguising itself as a happy, silly girl.
It is unlikely that Aihara will revert back to her cheery self after their…conversation. Matsumoto hadn't said anything but the truth, told it to her clean and plainly, but even as she walked away, let the question hang in the air, she was all too aware of the tears in the girl's eyes.
It is childish, crying over a boy. She doesn't even want to know how many times Aihara has cried over Irie, doesn't think she'll come up with a large enough number. Aihara tears up and sulks every time Irie is unhappy with her, which is nearly everyday.
The relationship between the two cannot be…healthy, no, it's nothing but a strained, unhappy relationship. Aihara, really isn't happy with Irie, no, she is just attached to him, and Irie, Irie…
She cannot speak for Irie. Matsumoto wonders if he reciprocates Aihara's love. It had been the first question she'd thought of when she first laid eyes on the girl, and it is the question that comes to her mind each and every time she sees the two of them together. The school has recognized their 'status' even; that simply shows how blasé the students are to their 'relationship'.
Truthfully, she despises the school, despises her classmates, despises the escalator system as a whole. She'd only accepted the enrollment invite to Tonan because it was nearby to her sister's school.
Totally not because Irie was going here as well.
It is not fair to her, to pick out her school because of her long-term, long-distance crush, only to have a goof of a girl come and take it all away from her. Matsumoto feels robbed.
If she cries now, starts to give into the hot tears filling up in her eyes, she will be just like Aihara.
Matsumoto continues brushing her teeth. She'd been staring at her bare face in the mirror, thinking about nothing but Irie and Aihara. She's become a zombie to her surroundings, she has become a slave to despair and sadness.
She cries, though it is a weak, pitiful cry, nothing more than a tear or two rolling down her face.
It is good that she's in the bathroom, really, she can wipe away her sadness with the tap water. No signs of a tear-streaked face, no sign of puffiness. None of the evidence left behind, wiped away entirely.
Really though, she could use some cheering up right now. Maybe a smile from Irie. It is not fair for Matsumoto. She has loved Irie too. She still loves him, even now, even after all this time.
Perhaps she is no better than the girl.
Matsumoto is a million times the same as Aihara.