A year later
The marmalade-tinted morning sun rays streamed through the school kitchen's window, seeping into the colorless smooth countertops and appliances. They danced and flitted around the specks of dust that hang in the still air. Disturbed only by the shrill shuffling of metal trays and a whispy, hummed rendition of some tranquil classical music piece in the otherwise deserted school. Her hair shimmered and swayed as she glided back and forth, surveying the arrayed utensils. She nudged one of the trays until it exactly paralleled the edge of the counter, kneeling a bit to check and make sure.
"Did we have to do this the morning of the school festival?" I grumbled to myself. "Night before would have been a heck of a lot better."
Not at spending time alone with Takasaki, of course. Rather, I wasn't a morning person, and the weight in my bag that pulled down my shoulder only further drove home that point. Leaning against the doorframe, I waved at Takasaki, only failing to catch her attention. She thumbed a few buttons on the oven, and they beeped each time.
"Good morning, Takasaki-san!".
My voice still shook with some lingering trepidation, and I couldn't believe myself.
For her part, her hummed tune screeched to a halt and she turned around. She had donned a pink apron over her school uniform, and she looked so motherly. It was easy for me to forget at times that she was still destined as my Yukari-assigned wife. That we would share a life together, maybe raise children together. Even despite the government notice, it all seemed so distant. True, she had never made any motion to annul it, but despite all the conversations the two of us had shared in the past few months, she seemed no closer as a girlfriend, let alone as some sort of fiancee. The two of us had still never told anyone outside of our families - at least, as far as I knew - and she had never brought the topic up again since that day. Any time someone asked me whether I had received my notice, I would give a weak laugh and people would know the answer without prying for further impolite details.
People noticed the two of us had begun to spend a lot of time together. More than usual for a guy and a girl, less than usual for a couple. Nejima had even pulled me aside a few times early on. I didn't know the truth myself, or what to say, so I would mutter "it's nothing," and believed it and slunk away from his sad, confused face. One always had to round down half of a relationship.
"Ah, Reader-kun!" she returned in her usual cheery greeting, relieving me of my grocery haul and setting it on the kitchen counter. Flawless and clean, as I expected of her. Just like her. "You took extra care of the eggs, right?".
I nodded in response. "I got it all double-bagged, for good measure," I added.
"That's not good for the environment." She wagged a finger at me, and I found the scolding kind of cute. I joined her in helping unpack the ingredients.
"At least it was paper and not plastic. What were you humming just now, by the way?" I asked. "It sounded very beautiful, and relaxing."
"Gymnopédies by Satie," she recited in her best French. Best being not good at all.
"Wow, you know quite a bit about that. I have to say I'm a bit jealous."
"Not as much as you think," she demurred. She struggled to pull apart a bag of sugar in a clean fashion, so I reached over and tore the top. I tilted the heavy sack into a glass bowl and poured out a small mound.
"Hm, a bit more?" she requested, and I dispensed a bit more onto the small granular hill.
"How'd you learn about it?" I continued.
"I used to play the violin in middle school," she explained. "I was never any good though. Always in the back, no matter how hard I practiced every day. Meanwhile I'd always look at the concertmaster get all the love and attention. So I quit."
"Orchestras are all about group effort."
"I suppose. I guess that's just the sort of person I am," she answered with a meaningless laugh. "Did you ever play an instrument, Reader-kun?".
"Yeah, cello, back in middle school."
"Same reason?".
I nodded, and reached for one of the eggs. So did she, and our pinkies bumped against each other. I retracted mine and blushed away, while she grabbed the egg and cracked it against the edge of the bowl and refused to acknowledge whatever had just happened.
She flashed a smile at me. "I guess we're both not used to not winning."
The first time she had went to counseling with me, she fidgeted all over the couch, looking over her shoulder as if someone watched her. She actually did mention she thought someone from the Ministry, a guy named Anekawa, watched over her and Nejima. Certainly not in this banal, carpeted room with a closed door, however, and I tried to reassure her as much. She had made the therapist swear up and down not to tell anyone anything. Satisfied after the third round of this charade, she finally spilled everything.
Cruel guy friends and cruel girl friends. Her so-called loved ones. Her uncaring mother. The abuse, the humiliation, the daily sandpaper of put-downs and ignominies and worse that ground away at her every day, until only the shell of her former self remained. She strung a frayed yarn from one part of her life to the next over the course of multiple sessions.
Nejima. How she wasn't his assigned. How he seemed to look at Ririna in a slightly different way every day, especially after that hot springs trip. How sure she was that the one happiness she might otherwise have been allowed in her life, her one raison d'être for her life, seemed to slip away every passing moment. And so did her life.
I had once heard from one of her friends that she had never seen her cry. I found that hard to believe, in my cumulative personal experience with her. I almost felt bad for the therapist, who had to wash out the stains on his pillows.
Her father.
I didn't know what else to say at the time, but I also broke down. I talked about my mother for the first time to someone else, the real side of my mother. I knew it didn't compare to what Takasaki went through, but I wanted to do anything I could to make her feel less alone. How convoluted - these sessions weren't for me, but I ended up as a participant anyway. The two of us almost forgot about the therapist as we shared our pasts with each other, crying together.
I found her holding my hand then, almost out of blind instinctual need for human contact than any specific desire. Despite how I felt about it, I thought it the most inappropriate time to mention anything about it.
I shook my head out of the memories, to see a smiling Takasaki humming to herself as she mixed the batter with a spatula. Birds joined in to chirp alongside her from beyond the window. By now, some fellow students had come to help set up their own class festival activities and chatted outside, livening up the school.
She hadn't cried in months. Her distant, perfect smiles and easygoing attitude, it all appeared so normal. Just how she looked to me before I had confessed to her and we two had gotten our notice. Reverting to the past wasn't exactly the future I wanted, but compared to the recent alternative, seeing such a quotidian Takasaki made me happy.
"Yeah, we really are the high-roller types at heart, aren't we?" I confirmed her last statement. "I guess we're more similar than either of us ever imagined."
I grabbed the sack of flour and popped it open. It took a bit more force than I anticipated. When it opened, it floofed out a cloud that prompted me to cough and squeeze my eyes shut.
"Oh, Reader-kun!" Takasaki called out, setting down the bowl and getting a towel. She dabbed it under the sink and wiped my face with it. "You look just like a geisha!".
Cough. "Do I?" I asked.
Takasaki laughed in response, and not the brief awkwardness-smoother kind either. A real one.
"You know, you look like one of my little step-brothers trying to help me out at home. That always happens to Itsuki."
"Hehe, I guess that's good," I responded, patting my face to detect any traces of powder. "Thanks for that."
"No problem." She handed me the bowl and the spatula. "This is the part where it's good to have a guy helping me - I'm going to pour in the chocolate chips, I need you to stir them in in a folding motion, like this," demonstrating once for me with a visible struggle.
"OK," I acquiesced. One fold, and I realized just how thick and heavy the batter had become to turn over like that.
"We'll only need to do it a few more times," she declared as she funneled in more chips out of a bag. My arm ached by the time I was done, although with still enough strength to lift out the spatula. I swiped my finger through the end, gaining a streak of raw cookie dough, and dropped it in my mouth.
"That's unsanitary!" Takasaki called out, her cheeks reddening.
"What, I'll wash my hands after this." I directed the spatula at her. "You've never done it before? Why don't you give it a try?".
"Please get it away from me," she protested, backing away and pushing away my hand. "If you're not careful you'll get it on my school uniform."
"You're the one wearing the apron," I pointed out. "Come on, what's the point of baking cookies if you don't even lick the raw dough once?".
I stared down into Takasaki's clarion, lake-colored eyes for a few moments, when she loosened up and relented.
"OK, maybe I'll give it a try." She tried to pinch out a glob when, after a brief examination of her smooth unpainted fingernails, she opted to use a plastic spoon instead.
She grinned and nodded. "It tastes just like the kind they use in the ice cream, actually."
"See what I mean?". I handed her and myself an ice cream scoop each. She sprayed the trays with a quick layer of non-stick, and I scooped out some dough from the bowl and plopped them on top. She joined me, although she took the time to try to mold some of them. A heart so round it looked more like a mathematical cardioid in polar coordinates, and an attempt at an outline of a butterfly that ended up more like a Lorenz attractor.
She noticed my glances at her clumsy work, "I can dream, alright?".
Now it was my turn to laugh. "Don't worry, I think they look cute."
Takasaki smiled and tilted her head, her hair rocking with the movement.
"I'm going to go change right now, can you handle putting the cookies in the oven?" she asked. "Make sure to use these mitts."
"Sure thing," I answered, as she hung up the apron and sprinted out of the room. I put on the mitts she gave me and slid the tray into the pre-heated oven.
"Wait, how long am I supposed to put them in for?" I poked my head out the door and called after her, but she was already gone.
"Hmm, ten minutes is probably fine," I muttered to myself. "I guess I can just keep a watch on them and play it by eye."
Resting against the oven, I whipped out my phone and caught up on my Facebook group chat messages.
Michiru: "Bringing my boyfriend today to the school festival, hope you guys get a chance to meet him! He's a real cutey!"
Michiru: "Oh Reader heard you're alone with Takasaki helping her ;)"
I wasn't really sure how and whether to respond to that, but in either case I rather she had said that in direct message instead of to the group.
Koharu: "Physics team should really do a club thing for this next year, it'll be our last year"
Koharu: "My class is doing a haunted house AGAIN rly?".
Michiru: "Mine is doing a maid cafe LOL"
Koharu: "Are you dressing up? :P"
Michiru: "Baka! :("
Michiru: "What would your Yukari partner think if she read that?"
Sasahara had left the entire conversation on read. Probably the smartest maneuver.
"Reader-kun?".
The unmistakable note rang with the purity of a reverberating tuning fork, splitting my inner thoughts in twain. I looked up to find Takasaki waving at me, and I almost fall over.
The wide sleeves flared out of her white yukata, the floor-length narrow dress patterned with the designs of blue roses in full bloom and enrobing her lithe body. A grape-colored sash held the outfit together, tied in a large bow in the back like a birthday present for me. A gentle arc of hydrangea flowers, the color of clear noon sky, dangled from the side of her head.
What was a charged black hole called again? Reissner-Nordström? Because I was sure that much beauty concentrated in one place had to collapse into an electric singularity. I had never seen Takasaki in a yukata before, and the sight did not disappoint. I only regretted she couldn't wear it every day.
"How do I look~?" she asked in a purring tone and with a playful, even haughty, grin. She closed her eyes and flicked her short black hair with a dismissive hand, the bouncy strands seeming to hang in the air for a moment.
"Ummm…" I mumbled, blushing. "You shouldn't ask rhetorical questions, Takasaki-san."
She laughed into her hands and dropped the act. "Glad to know, just double checking." She fiddled with the bow behind her. "I'm just hoping I put it on right."
"Why are you wearing it, if I might ask? Not that I mind, of course - I think, um, it looks quite lovely, if I'm allowed to say."
"Are you really so surprised the class voted to have me stand outside and advertise our bake sale?" she tittered.
"Makes sense," I acknowledged, when I realized that in my enrapturement with her new look I had completely forgotten -
"The cookies!" I exclaimed, twisting the oven dial back to zero and yanking open the door. I slid on the pair of mitts and extracted the trays inside. The brown lumps at least didn't look charred on the edges, unlike the last attempt at baking I saw out of Takasaki, but they didn't exactly convey appetizing desire either.
"Whoops," Takasaki covered her mouth. "At least it turned out better than usual. I guess your help must have prevented the worst."
"Maybe if we discount them, people will still buy them?" I suggested.
"Well, I don't think people go to a school festival with high-quality baked goods at a reasonable price first on their mind."
She started prying the cookies off with a spatula and into ziplock bags. "Anyway, we can make up for it in presentation. Katou-san brought some pretty red ribbons we can use for the baggies. Could you help me take these to the classroom?".
"Yeah, of course," I replied. Anything I could do to help Takasaki.
I scooped up a few of them in my arms and headed out alongside Takasaki into the hallway. Bright paper garlands festooned the ceiling and other students milled back and forth around us with boxes of supplies. Even in the distance I could hear the school band practicing on the field.
I heard a few whispers, but I ignored them.
When I reached the classroom, the desks were draped in white cloth and almost entirely covered in pastries and tarts and croissants. Several of her classmates crouched in the corner, coloring a few flashy cardboard signs. One of Takasaki's friends, a tall blonde named Aioi, rushed out to greet her.
"Oh, Takasaki-san, I'm so glad you could help," she exclaimed.
"Yeah, no problem," Takasaki waved off, as she and I handed over the cookies. "They, um, well, I'm sure they'll make a fine addition!".
"Yeah, thanks!" Aioi expressed again.
"Sure, any time. I'd love to stay and help here, but Reader-kun and I have to clean up the kitchen. We'll be right back!"
Even though they didn't bake perfectly, I could see a broad grin across her face as the two of us exited the classroom and reentered the hectic hallway.
"You know, even if I'm not so good at it, it's still fun to actually make something with your own hands. I'm glad you could help."
"Oh yeah, I'm glad too," I answered. "I'd be happy to do something like that any time with you."
"Misaki!" a girly voice called out.
"Hm?" Takasaki turned, when her eyes widened.
"Misaki!" Ririna yelled again, holding Nejima's hand. Nisaka sulked besides them, his luscious plum-colored bangs swishing about in front of his obscure eyes and his hands in his pockets.
Ririna. Holding Nejima's hand.
Takasaki tried to croak a greeting out in response, but her voice just scratched.
"Oh, Misaki, your yukata is so beautiful!" Ririna complimented. She wore her typical atypical gothic lolita fashion. "I kept trying to reach you for the past few weeks but you won't answer! We should totally go to the summer festival and then we can all wear our yukatas together!".
"Um, yeah, good to see you again too, Riri-chan," Takasaki's voice halted out.
A few people stopped and stared at the odd reunion.
"Maybe we shouldn't stand in the middle of the hall like this," I offered. "We're blocking egress."
Takasaki kept staring at Nejima and Ririna holding hands, and couldn't bear to look away.
"Nejima-kun…" she started. I could see a million thoughts balancing off the tip of her tongue, ready to fall over, as her brain churned through the possibilities for the single optimal one to express in this moment.
Nejima let go, more tossed aside, Ririna's hand. He swallowed a lump in his throat, pulled at his collar, and leaned forward as he does as if about to declare something.
Nisaka looked her over, then glanced at me, and shattered the crystallized awkwardness. "How's things going with the new boyfriend?".
That was it. Takasaki grabbed the hook of my arm and sprinted faster than I thought possible in her sandals back to the kitchen, almost tripping me in the process. If anything, I was more concerned she might. I thought I could hear a teacher calling out after us not to run in the hallway, but she didn't care about anything else in the world besides putting more between us two and them.
Panting, she slammed the door shut behind us two, rested against, and collapsed to the floor, the skirt of her yukata crumpling with her legs.
"I guess," she breathed out, "it was inevitable."
"It didn't have to be," I countered, kneeling beside her.
"I'm happy for Nejima. It's better for him to just go with the system. It's better for everyone, really," she rationalized more to herself than to me.
"What about you?" I asked.
She looked away.
She said nothing for ten, long seconds.
She exhaled.
She looked into my eyes. They were wide open, arctic blue swirling in conclusions and resignation and yet what appeared like a little bit of relief.
"I think," she began.
My heart was starting to race in a way it hadn't for months. Oh sure, being next to Takasaki transmitted a certain amount of ambient anxiousness that crushes always did. But whatever she said this in moment, whatever answer she provided to this question, I somehow knew I would remember for the rest of my life.
She put her hand against mine, before extruding her fingers through mine and interlacing them.
"I think, it's better for me too. If we…if we had a more normal relationship."
I couldn't believe what I heard, and I wondered if I misinterpreted them. Her words did seem kind of ambiguous, but the accompanying action did not.
"I'm sorry for taking your feelings on such a ride," she apologized.
"It's…I mean, it's not really okay, but I didn't want anyone else. I was willing to wait."
"You know, my class put on a Romeo and Juliet play last year for the school festival," she mentioned, almost out of nowhere.
"Oh, you must have made a fine Juliet," I commented.
"Hm, that's what everyone says, although it was actually a gender-reversed version, so I played Romeo," she corrected.
She leaned in closer, until I could almost feel her breath against my face.
"The truth is, Reader-kun, I can't be your Juliet. I don't think I ever can be. But I can be your Lady Macbeth."
"Hm." I thought back to the Takasaki on the rooftop, orating to no one and everyone. "That's as good of a confession as I'd ever expect to hear."
"Remember what you said on our first date? 'We can do better. We'd make a great team'?" she quoted.
I nodded.
"You're exceptional, Reader-kun, and really smart, and nice, and everything else someone would want. I'd like to think I am too. I think we can achieve what we each want, together. So I'd like to take you up on your offer. I'll ignore my heart and make the wrong decision, so that some day no one will ever have to again."
Sometimes, I wondered whether the Yukari system might be too smart, too perceptive of people for its own good. I would have never really met Takasaki otherwise, never had a chance to learn just how much we two shared in history and personality. If I had already admired her as a distant beauty, those commonalities only made it burn brighter.
"Am I allowed to say it?" I asked. "For real, this time?".
Takasaki nodded.
"I love you."
Takasaki closed her eyes, and I followed the cue. She draped one of her wide sleeves over my shoulder and dragged me towards her, until I could taste her cherry lip gloss.
Nothing too wild, but fireworks nonetheless went off in my head as my dream finally came true in her embrace.
The two of us separated our lips, still holding hands, when Takasaki half-opened her eyes and looked into mine.
"And I'll try my best, Reader-kun."
Q.E.D.
Author's Note: This is the last "main" chapter, however I'll be posting one epilogue chapter after this, so I'll save the champagne popping for then.