Chapter Thirty
Sachie

"Nya, why aren't you two holding hands?" Eiji shouted out at Fuji and I without even a pre-teasing hello, when we slid open the door to Kawamura's sushi bar.

"Saa, I told her that would be pleasant, but she wouldn't let me." Fuji was smiling, as usual, unfazed by anything under the sun and certainly not Eiji's mindless comments.

Eiji turned on me. "That's so mean! He's your boyfriend! How can you not let—"

"Let him hold my hand? Which hand do you mean? The one I hold my books with or the one holding my bag for tennis rackets? Or are you suggesting I balance either on my head?"

"Then let him carry—"

"Yes, let him carry the stuff with his other hand that is not holding mine, which is already full up with his books and stuff. He doesn't have three arms any more than the rest of us do, Eiji."
That shut him up. For the time being. I thanked my stars that Eiji had never been very thorough with thinking things through. If he had, he'd have suggested me putting the books into the bag and freeing one hand.

You'd think I wouldn't be embarrassed about physical contact with Fuji, not after that awkward position we'd been in on the beach just a month or so ago. But just because we were a couple didn't mean that we had to act all romantic every minute of the day. And it had taken me a while to get used to the idea of him being my boyfriend, after just being friends for so long.

Fuji pulled me down next to him a table. I had long since trained him not to put his arm around me at every chance he got—it was just too hot for that in the summer—but his habit of snuggling as close as possible rendered all my efforts to break it useless.

"Fuji! It's boiling in here!" I protested, squirming away, earning an instant reproach from Eiji, who I resolutely refused to look at, given his state of being so entwined with Chiko that I barely knew where he ended and she began. Heaven alone knows why she could still sit there grinning.

"You shouldn't be like that, Tezumi," he shook a finger violently at me. "Couples deeply in love should be more romantic, like Chiko-chan and me." He grinned with simpering adoration at Chiko, who swooned. I pretended not to see.

"And why are you still calling him Fuji?" the cat like boy demanded. "You should be calling him Syusuke. Or even better, Suke-kun!"

"What about Tezumi then?" An eager Momo joined in the fun. "Sachie-chan? Sa-chan? Chie-chan?"

I gave Fuji a look. You are a tensai, but you have a very weird taste in friends.

Fuji just smiled. We both knew that it didn't matter—

Fuji

—what we called each other, we would always be us, nothing more, and definitely noting less. A rose by any other name would just smell as sweet, after all.

I leaned in close with her again. I didn't find it at all hot in the room, though her flushed cheeks seemed to indicate otherwise. "I really don't mind what you call me. Though 'Chie-chan' does sound good..."

She was my girlfriend and all, but I would be forever trying to push her limits, and she would forever be trying not to strangle me. It was amusing, watching her shudder at the thought of me yelling "Chie-chan!" into her classroom during breaks.

"I have reason to fear assassination if you ever so much as say that name again in public." She turned her line of sight instead to Takahashi and Oishi, who were having a very in depth talk about something. How to cheer someone up, or something of the sort. Tezumi always insisted on bring her friend to our after practice meetings with the team, but always left her with Oishi to discuss methods on soothing someone's frazzled nerves. A strange pass time, but they seemed to enjoy it.

"Assassination? In the case of knives, I would willingly throw myself into the path of any number of daggers to save you, and in the case of guns, well, at least we'll go to heaven together."

I loved the way she blushed. "Fuji!" Grinding her nerves was always fun. "Are you aware that the rest of the people in this room are hanging on to every word we say? Will you for once act normal?"

The girl was somewhat like a vending machine. It was so easy to see which buttons to press in order to get what you wanted. "You want some privacy?" I pulled her to the back of the shop, a part shielded from the rest of the company, amid the whistling of my overexcited teammates.

"Fuji!" She was cute when she was exasperated. "Why do you keep doing this?"

"Doing what? Loving you? You want me to stop loving you?" I pretended to be hurt.

"No!" she groaned

"Don't you love me back then?"

"Yes, but..." She sighed, looked at me with her head tilted to one side and grinned at the sheer hopelessness of my case, giving up trying to win me in our argument. She simply submitted in quiet consent when I covered her lips with mine.

Sachie

I still loved his smile, just as I had adored it at the beginning of the year, when I'd only had a mere crush on him. I still thought that his heart-melting smile was there just for me, and I knew I'd always think this way. The thing was, this time my wishful thinking happened to be true.

I wish I could say "And so we lived happily ever after". But that wasn't real, that wasn't true, and that certainly wasn't us. There would always be arguments, misunderstandings, and all the rest of the common tragedies for couples. But what would a relationship be without something to fight over and thus something to celebrate and hug and kiss over once everything was ok again?

He would always be attempting to get on my nerves, and I would forever be trying to stop him, though liking his teasing very secretly.

I gazed up at him once his face was at a distance comfortable enough for looking at.

He smiled.

You know when some things get broken you can always fix them again with some glue or something. You could always patch your broken vases and torn paper back together, but there always seems to be a mark, a scar, reminding you that it would never be truly whole again.

That it would always be weaker than what it was.

I looked up at what had been a broken simper just a few months ago. I looked at it, and saw something much stronger.

He smiled.

He would always smile.