CHAPTER EIGHT – INFINITE CHOICES (MoniKenta)

Academics, occasional athletics, the debate club, home. Monika knew that this would be her daily routine for her junior school year, as it always had been since middle school—though the debate club part only started when she was in her sophomore year. It wasn't all bad; in fact, sometimes it was even a necessity, given that she was indeed one of the top achievers in their year as well as an excellent role model for many other students around her. However, it did tend to get tedious and tiring whenever she would have to don the mask that so many others had bestowed upon her, and sometimes it felt like she was slowly being turned into more of a figurehead than an actual, normal student. As she sat in her chair and wrote down notes from their Social Studies lecture, her mind couldn't help but wander towards what she had always wanted: to at least start being herself.

She wasn't even spared at home, where Monika only had a group of household helpers for company. Her parents were always absent from home as they ran the family business in other prefectures, so they never really bothered to check on her most of the time. Because of her high academic marks and popularity in school as a model student, Monika was allowed to enjoy a bit of freedom when it came to going out and enjoying some time with her friends. None of the people at home controlled her for it—in fact, anything and everything she wanted, she could have from them—though privately she would have also preferred having her parents at home to talk to instead of waiting to hear from them once every month.

Monika put down her pen and rubbed her eyes wearily. In silence, she took the time to observe her classmates in 3-A. So far, only a precious few of them made her comfortable, as they were the ones who didn't treat her like a princess, fawning over her and currying her favor in a lot of ways. Even her fellow debate club members, who regarded her as the best among them, often saw her as simply their perfect leader, only talking to her when they need to settle things for the club with impartiality and never thinking for themselves. Monika sighed. She knew everyone meant well, but she felt that being treated as something akin to a perfect princess was rather ridiculous when she had flaws, likes and thoughts like everyone else does. In middle school, Monika may have felt flattered at the praise she had received—after all, those where the days when school popularity mattered and being the king or queen of the class was a position highly coveted by teenagers. That kind of notion, however, lost its novelty as time passed by and as people grew up.

Their Social Studies professor gave them their final reminders and soon left the classroom, leaving them to wait for their next class. Eagerly, Monika took out her favorite composition notebook and opened it back to the page where she had been writing a poem earlier. Since last year, Monika had taken to writing poems in order to privately express her feelings, and it came with the added bonus of appearing too busy to be approached by those who wanted to just talk to her for the sake of talking to the most popular girl in their year. Admittedly, there was no harm in their intentions, but she couldn't bear to do that all the time, as it made her feel so unappreciated for who she truly was—not a goddess, not a perfect person, just Monika.

Quietly, she put pen to paper and began writing. Even though she would pause and gather her thoughts at times, everything came so easily for her—perhaps because of the fact that she had so many thoughts and so few people to speak them to that putting them into written words seemed relatively easy. Her mood, her perspective, her side, all of these dictated what would come out in her stanzas and lines, and whenever Monika would go back to reread them, she would smile reflectively at how everything turned out to be. Though she never considered herself to be a writer par excellence, she still marveled at how deep and meaningful her written words would come out to be. However, her smile would fade a little when she knew that if someone would take their time to read her poems, they would only end up praising them without reading much into them, the same way that people often did when they interacted with her. Hence, she was her poems' only reader most of the time.

In a few more strokes, she had finished her poem:

"Pen in hand, I find my strength.

The courage endowed upon me by my one and only love.

Together, let us dismantle this crumbling world

And write a novel of our own fantasies.

With a flick of her pen, the lost finds her way.

In a world of infinite choices, behold this special day.

After all,

Not all good times must come to an end."

Monika stared at the words she had just written. My one and only love. She had to smile at the idea of that. Most of the time, her poems had such an element woven into them, though she sensed that having the idea of a "one and only love" as a recurring theme of her personal work was only wishful thinking on her part. Many would-be admirers have always stepped forth to voice their intentions of asking her out, either discreetly or explicitly with flowers and love letters, but though Monika tried to be friendly with them, she never felt a spark form between her and any of them as time passed. It saddened her as well to see that almost all of them seemed to have fallen for their image of her, not her, and that they chose to mask their own selves as well in order to appear more favorable to her. The worse ones—though Monika avoided labeling them as "worse" if she could help it—simply wanted her to be their girlfriend in order to brag to their friends that they were dating one of the most popular and beautiful girls in the school. If she would ever end up with a boy, she wanted that boy to be someone who would be accepting of her quirks, aware of her flaws, and understanding about her sentiments; that boy also had to stay true to who and what he really was, and not adjust in any unnecessary way just to fit her standards; and of course, she wanted that boy to treat her as an equal, and not merely as a trophy girlfriend. And so, Monika had turned down many of her admirers with a heavy heart, as she never really wanted to hurt any of their feelings; she was glad that they were at least cordial about it.

She tapped her pen against her notebook in silence. The sounds of it seemed to mimic the way her heart beat in her chest: silent, simple, and easily drowned out in the tidal wave of voices and noises that surrounded her. Even so, her heart beat with longing, longing for a day where she could finally shed the worries and pretensions that she always put up in her everyday life and just be who she really was around people, and have them respond more sincerely in return. Monika knew that beyond the restrictions and limitations imposed upon her, there truly was a world of infinite choices, ready to be discovered and enjoyed, learned and relished. And she knew that out there was someone who could actually understand her, someone who could look at everything and anything about her and still appreciate her because of it. Out there was someone who could treat her as an actual person, and not as a mere idea or facsimile of perfection. Out there was someone who would look at her and see more than just the façade that she had been forced to put around herself for most of her life.

And yet, out there was someone who may not even be aware that she—the real Monika within the curtains of her fascia—existed, and that someone may not even take the initiative to share anything about their own selves, opting instead to put on their own masks so that they could talk to her. She stopped tapping her pen as the thought filled her with pangs of sadness. But she wanted to hope, and keep hoping.

As their English professor entered the classroom, Monika sighed and closed her notebook. Her heart continued to beat silently, and she wondered what it will take to find that special day—and that special someone.

"Finally!" Kenta yelled as soon as their last professor for the day had exited their classroom. Though his shout was drowned out by the excited chatter and laughter around him, many in the classroom shared his sentiments. The weekends were the only days he looked forward to, especially after a busy school week and an even more hectic week to look forward to. Kenta found it outrageous that they already had two upcoming school projects and a long test to deal with only one month after classes started. Right now, Kenta couldn't wait to bust some school stress with a few games at the arcade or by chowing down on some good food downtown.

Next to him, Naoki was packing up his notebooks quickly and quietly. Kenta turned to him. "You wanna hang out downtown?" he asked. "I'll text Daisuke and see if he can come too."

"Actually, I . . . have other plans for tonight, Kenta," Naoki said with an apologetic smile.

Kenta frowned. "'Other plans,' eh? That obviously means 'I've got a date tonight, Kenta,'" he remarked.

Naoki shrugged happily. "Well, it's just that there's this awesome place that I found out about," he said. "It's this book café downtown called The Monocle. I asked Yuri if she wanted to go there for tonight and . . . well, she accepted."

"Oh, so it is a date," said Kenta as he raised his eyebrows. Yuri had rushed out of the classroom the moment she had packed her things, red-faced. He mused that Naoki must have asked her out during their last class.

"Well, n-not like that," said Naoki, laughing. "It's just that . . . I wanna take her somewhere she'll feel comfortable, alright? I mean, I think we've browsed through enough bookstores already, and it may be time to look for other places we can hang out at—"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," said Kenta. "I guess I'll just text Daisuke, then."

"Actually, I think he told me earlier at lunchtime that he had something planned with Natsuki as well," Naoki pointed out.

Kenta let out an indignant sigh. "Well, I guess I'll just have to go downtown by my damn lonesome, then! Dammit, Naoki! You and Daisuke meet a couple of girls during your first day of school, and a month later you're already leaving your best buddy out to dry so you can go on dates!"

"We're really sorry, Kenta," said Naoki, laughing. "I mean, I guess we're just all caught off guard by how things are going. You're still our best buddy, and it's not our intention to leave you all alone while we have other plans! In fact, why don't you . . . ask Monika out or something?"

"Oh, wow, that's sound advice coming from you, Naoki!" Kenta cried out sarcastically. He imitated Naoki's voice and said, "'Why don't you ask Monika out?' If I ever end up doing that and it mucks up—which I know it will—I'll jump off a damn cliff."

"Okay, okay, sorry about that!" said Naoki as his laugh grew louder. "I mean, I thought it'd be a good idea, considering you went out with her a couple of times last month, right?"

"Those ain't dates, alright?" Kenta snapped. "She just needed some help with a few things!"

Naoki shook his head, smirking. "Could be worth a try. I mean, you're the only guy that Monika's been going out with consistently. She never asks anyone else, from what I could see."

Kenta scratched his head, both peeved and nervous. While he wanted to respond to Naoki's remark with a rant or jeer, he knew that what he had said was perfectly true. In the past month of their junior school year so far, Monika had remained cordial to him, cordial enough to ask him to accompany her on certain trips outside of school and into downtown. Kenta sensed how weird they sometimes were—after all, it made him look like a lackey of some sort—but he still cherished the experiences because they were with Monika. And Naoki was right in saying that Monika never called upon anyone else to help her with them; she and Kenta were the only ones who were together during those times, and Monika never invited any of her friends or other acquaintances over to join them. While Kenta wanted to think that these were nothing but harmless and simple gestures of familiarity between him and Monika, he wanted to believe somehow that there was something behind these seemingly harmless gestures. Was that a wrong thing to do?

"Well, that's, er. . ." he blurted out. "Uh . . . I dunno."

Naoki chuckled. "It's alright," he said. "Anyway, there's always next time. This Friday is just a coincidence, that's all. We'll make it up to you next weekend, how about that?"

Kenta merely sighed and brushed his hand dismissively. "That's alright, you dolts, whatever you want. Anyway, good luck. I guess I'll just have to find a way to enjoy this Friday night all alone downtown."

Though he said these things with an indignant grouchiness, Kenta didn't really mind that he was being left all alone. After all, this wasn't the first time that a prospected outing didn't end up the way it should with one or two members of their trio missing, and to take these kinds of things seriously would mean treating their friendship as something so fragile or easily cracked—not the kind of stuff that brotherhood was built upon. The only thing about it that made Kenta conscious was that Daisuke and Naoki would spend their time with two pretty girls with whom they appear to be becoming fast friends with. He, on the other hand, had never been really lucky with ladies, and it always put him in a sullen mood.

His thoughts shifted to Monika—sweet, beautiful, friendly Monika. Ever since he had met her during their freshman year, Kenta had been unable to look at other girls the same way. Naoki and Daisuke often joked about how he had been practically a playboy all through middle school until he had met Monika and started believing in the stick-to-one principle. The only other numbers that can far exceed the number of girls he had tried dating would be the number of guys that he had gotten into fistfights with, a phase of youthful machismo that Kenta had not quite grown out of yet. Kenta frowned; just because he tried asking out girl after girl during middle school doesn't mean he ever managed to win the heart of any of them—and he never tried asking them all at once, as he liked to remind his buddies, since he just basically moved to another girl after being dumped by one.

With Monika, however . . . despite his huge crush for her, Kenta never really made his feelings known to her, and somehow Monika didn't seem to notice them in the subtle hints that gave Kenta away—the way he would blubber and stammer whenever she tried engaging him in a solid conversation in front of others or the way he'd blush whenever she would stand or walk too close to him. Kenta sighed. He knew that with a track record like his in both academics and as a boy, he virtually had no chance with Monika. Still, even with such thoughts in his head, he never moved on from her, nor did he instinctively set his sights on another girl after a few weeks of recovery. This was a weight he had been carrying since their first encounter during freshman year.

Naoki left the classroom a minute before he did. By this time, most of the students in and out of the 3-C classroom had exited the school already. Realizing that spending time alone downtown was still better than going home this early, Kenta slung his backpack over his shoulder and made his way to the school doors, whistling a mockingly sad tune as he walked.

The school grounds were starting to grow quieter as the volume of voices began spreading out into the streets outside the school. As he exited the school, Kenta ran into a few of his other friends from other classes and within 3-C, and again he became slightly resentful that he was spending this Friday night not knowing what to do or who to go with. Kenta didn't feel as close to these people as he did with Daisuke and Naoki, with whom he had been best friends since their middle school years, so he never asked them if he could join them on their own outings downtown later that night. With a smile, a joke and a wave, Kenta walked past them.

He had not gone too far down the street to downtown, however, when he heard a very familiar and cheerful voice call out behind him, "Kenta!"

Immediately, Kenta felt his knees tremble. He knew that voice; though it graced his ears rather sparingly, the mere sound of it always caused him to feel a tremendous rush of refreshing elation, like a comforting splash of cold water to the face during a hot sunny day. He swallowed nervously, turned around, and saw Monika walking briskly towards him, waving her hand.

Magnificent, gorgeous, breathtaking. If there was any time when Kenta would use flattering words that he had only read a few times from a dictionary, he would use them all to describe Monika. As she walked towards him, time seemed to slow down, and the only sounds he could hear were her footsteps and his heartbeat, both of which seemed to fall into perfect rhythm together. Monika's long, flowing brown hair swayed gaily behind her as she moved, wrapped in a ponytail with her favorite white ribbon, and her piercing green eyes lent her beautiful face a considerable aura of elegance. Her school uniform and the red leather school handbag that she carried did nothing to mar her lovely appearance; in fact, they only served to magnify it.

"How are you?" asked Monika. As usual, she was being her nice and friendly self.

"Well, I'm, um . . . doing alright," he replied nervously. "How about you?"

Monika smiled. "Still the same, I guess," she replied. "Anyway, I've been told that I'll be picked up a bit late for today because our driver went out on an errand. I'm planning on spending some time downtown while I'm waiting for him, and that's when I saw you walking. Are you going there as well?"

Holy crap. "Er, yes, I am" he said, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. "I was gonna ask my buddies to come along, but they, ah . . . told me they had other plans."

"So you're going alone?" Monika raised her eyebrows. "If you want, um . . . you can tag along with me!"

Again, holy crap. Kenta felt weak. "Uh . . . are you sure? I mean, um. . ."

A cheery laugh from Monika caused Kenta's words to catch in his throat. "It's alright with me, silly," she told him. "I mean, it's not like this is our first time going downtown together, and I really appreciate the times you helped me, remember those?"

How could I ever forget? "Uh, well . . . er . . . yes," he mumbled.

"Besides, I like it when I spend time outside of school and at home," Monika went on. "I mean, schoolwork and extracurricular activities can be really exhausting sometimes. Anyway, um . . . if you don't wanna go, I totally understand, Kenta."

"B-But don't you have other friends to g-go with?" asked Kenta.

Monika shook her head sadly. "Looks like our friends all have other plans for tonight," she replied. "And I'd rather be outside for a couple of hours instead of being at home doing nothing."

"W-Well, er . . . if it's alright with you, then it's a-alright with me!"

"Great!" Monika beamed at him again.

If Monika was the one who did the asking, do I still have to jump off a cliff?

Downtown was only starting to get going for real when the two of them walked into it. Lights began turning on, showing the names of various establishments and the nightlife façade of buildings as the sunset began to dim. Employees who had just finished their shifts for the day began filing out to go home or somewhere else, and vehicles began picking up in number on the streets. Monika looked around and smiled to herself; downtown was always her favorite place to hang out in, especially since there was always a certain venue just waiting to be discovered by her, and sometimes she wanted nothing more than to get lost in this maze of urban sights and sensations.

As expected, Kenta was being unusually quiet. Whenever Monika ran into him at school, he was always boisterously loud and rascal-like, ever ready to crack a joke or speak his mind. Even his mere presence—with his spiky red hair, his mischievous opal-colored eyes, and a figure that wouldn't look out of place in any sports team—commanded and demanded attention from nearly anyone. She had seen so during the time that they were classmates back in their freshman year, and though some of their schoolmates or classmates were turned off by it, Monika found it rather endearing. However, there were also times when she envied Kenta's candid bearing, simply because he could at least speak his mind and feelings without much fuss or restrictions. And even as she sensed that Kenta knew he was sometimes judged for it, she admired him for not letting it bother him visibly.

For their downtown trip, Monika decided to just make things easier by having them hang out at the Cocoa Connection. Ever since she had discovered that bistro during one of her downtown shopping trips, Monika had been drawn to it. The place was quiet and cozy, perfect for people who just wanted to unwind and gather their thoughts over a hot cup of coffee or a glass of iced espresso macchiato. Monika especially liked the place's ambience, since it helped her focus while she'd write poems idly or read from the bistro's collection of books that customers were free to use.

She had gone to the Connection with Kenta only once before, and that had been during the time he'd helped her buy a birthday gift for her mother last month. Why she had asked him of all people, Monika didn't know at that time, but the memories of their year as classmates had convinced her to ask him. She almost laughed out loud as she remembered how positively agitated Kenta looked when they entered the bistro and saw couples sitting everywhere. To make things clear, though, Monika had guided him upstairs to the bistro's second floor, where there were other tables and chairs that didn't require two people to sit too close to one another, unlike the loveseats that were at the bistro's ground floor. To her slight surprise, Kenta looked more relieved at the prospect of sitting casually instead of comfortably with her.

The two of them made their way to the counter. "I'll have the almond milk macchiato, please," she told the clerk cheerfully. "And a small slice of cheesecake to go with it. How about you, Kenta? Go ahead! My treat!"

Kenta's eyes widened. The clerk looked at him expectantly, but he waved his hands and shook his head. "N-Nothing for me!" he said with a nervous laugh. "I'm still f-full!"

"Oh, come on," said Monika lightheartedly. "Is it because I said it's on me?"

"Well, er, u-um . . ." He scratched his head anxiously, shifting his feet under him. "Y-Yes. I mean, I can order something, b-but only if you're not the one who's g-gonna pay for it. . ."

Monika laughed. "It's totally fine with me, silly!" she told him. "Besides, I didn't ask you to tag along with me just so you can watch me eat and drink."

"Er . . ." Kenta let out a long, embarrassed sigh. "Well, I'm gonna order, but I'm s-still gonna pay for it, okay? N-Not you."

Monika pouted playfully at him. "Well, suit yourself," she said. "As long as you don't feel left out accompanying me, alright?"

After Kenta had ordered a simple glass of coffee jelly, the two of them made their way upstairs to find a good table. Just like with downstairs, the second floor of the Connection had various decorative furniture and pieces such as bookcases laden with novels and short stories, some end tables bearing small potted plants and trinkets, and various paintings hanging on the walls. There was more space here than downstairs, as the second floor was usually reserved for lone people rather than couples, so Monika easily managed to pick out a good spot for them to sit—a table next to the bistro's front windows, where they would have a clear view of the street and the people walking by. Kenta picked up a spare chair from a nearby vacant table and used it to sit across the table from Monika.

Their order arrived after around five minutes. After everything had been set down, Monika turned to Kenta. "So, have academics been treating you well?" she asked him.

Kenta grunted. "I guess," he replied. Monika saw that he was avoiding her eyes. "Business is picking up, though. A couple of projects and a long test."

"What subjects?"

"History, Social Studies and English," said Kenta as he dug at his coffee jelly with a straw.

"I see, I see. How did sophomore year go?" she asked him as she pieced off a slice of cheesecake with a fork. "Did you do well?"

Monika had asked such a question because she, like many other students, knew Kenta's level of performance as a student. In their freshman year—and probably long before that, Monika guessed—Kenta had been prone to skipping classes or arriving late, and most of the time, he failed to submit homework or school projects on time. As a classmate who only wanted to look out for her fellow students, Monika had done her best to monitor Kenta and convince him to do better by seeking out tutors rather than have him risk getting expelled. To her joy, Kenta followed her guidance by asking his cousin to serve as his tutor, and it eventually paid off; Kenta managed to get by their freshman year without flunking any of their subjects, and he appeared to be doing better ever since. This soon helped her establish a sort of friendship with him, one that extended beyond the casual dealings that came with being schoolmates in separate classes.

"Yeah," Kenta replied silently. "I stopped getting tutored during the second half of last year because my cousin said I was doing well enough. But I promised him and Mom that if I started flunking again, I'll get right back to it. Being tutored, I mean."

"That's really good to hear!" said Monika, taking a sip of macchiato. "I hope you'll keep it up until the end of senior year as well."

For the first time during their trip from school to downtown, Kenta grinned freely at her—though he did so with an air of embarrassment. "Well, if it hadn't been f-for you, I wouldn't have taken my cousin seriously, y'know?" he said. "And I have to say, it's a pretty welcome change from being a school slacker. My pals make fun of me for it sometimes."

Monika frowned as she swallowed another piece of cheesecake. "Why would they make fun of you? There's nothing wrong with doing better, you know?"

"Ah, I know," said Kenta quickly. "I meant that they sometimes joke about, er . . . the transformation I've gone through, but not in a bad way. It's more of, um . . . you know, jokes between best buddies, stuff like that."

"Oh, there you go," said Monika. "I thought they were making fun of you for actually trying to do something about your past behavior or something. My bad!" she added with a giggle.

Kenta laughed a little as well. "It's okay."

"It's just that . . . I don't like it when people do that, you know?" Monika poked at her last piece of cheesecake with her fork. "It's always so nice to see others trying to strive and make up for their past mistakes, or do something about their current image because they're not happy about it. It applies for a lot of things: losing weight, helping others, studying better, and so on. . . And then there are just some people who tend to ignore that and make fun of you just because they've gotten so used to what they think of you."

Monika let out a small sigh as she remembered her own experiences. It wasn't that other people made fun of her for trying to be true to her own self and to them; rather, it was because they had a tendency of ignoring or playing down what she was trying to do because they still regarded her as someone who does not need to change or be transparent. Her parents, some of her friends, most of her classmates and admirers . . . She set down her fork and looked outside the windows of the Cocoa Connection, her emotions once again overtaken by that feeling of longing.

"Um, are y-you okay?" asked Kenta.

Monika snapped back to attention with a blink. She smiled rather sadly at Kenta. "Yes, I'm fine," she replied. "Just stressed out from school sometimes, that's all. . ."

Kenta raised his eyebrows. He looked as if he wanted to say something but was deciding against it. She inclined her head a little. "Do you want to ask me something?" she asked kindly.

"Um . . . Now that you, er, mentioned that . . . Why are you stressed out?" Kenta asked silently.

For a moment, Monika was slightly puzzled by his question; she didn't know whether Kenta was trying to figure out why she, of all people, could be capable of being stressed out, or if he was genuinely asking why she was stressed. As she looked into Kenta's opal eyes, however, Monika sensed that it was more of the latter case.

"Academics, sports, home, clubs," she narrated in a singsong voice before smiling ruefully. "I mean, I know I shouldn't be complaining too much about them, but sometimes the stuff that I do just becomes . . . taxing, you know?"

". . . You mean, like you're being made to pay for something?" asked Kenta.

"Ah, close enough!" Monika replied with a laugh. Though Kenta had misinterpreted her use of the word "taxing," the way he had used it was still right in a sense. "Anyway, I have a lot of things on my mind most of the time, and I can't really say them to anyone else because they always . . . always expect me to just bunker down and keep going, I guess."

"But how about your other friends? The people from the debate club, your classmates, your parents?"

Monika brushed away a lock of hair from her face. "That's kind of my problem, actually," she said quietly, though she didn't continue whatever it was that she was planning to say. For a few moments, she stayed quiet, wondering whether she should at least say something about everything she had been going through. Kenta looked at her, half-curious and half-shy as he drank from his glass of coffee jelly. Again, she began to wonder why she often ended up with him of all people, but if she had to answer at that moment, she somehow felt that she liked Kenta's company, even if he was quiet around her most of the time.

"Um . . . Kenta, if you don't mind, c-can I share something with you?"

A bit of color rushed to Kenta's face. "S-Sure, go ahead."

Monika placed her hands atop their table; it was a routine she often did before speaking publicly, either while she was on an interschool debate competition with her fellow debate club members or delivering a small speech to other students in their year. It helped her calm her thoughts and speak freely.

"I'm just tired, Kenta. Not just from school or from the debate club. I'm talking about mostly . . . everything. It's tough sometimes, you know? There are a lot of days when I just want to go out and be free, be me. For a very long time now, I'm just showing others the kind of person that they want me to be. It's not that that's a bad thing or something, of course, but it feels like it's . . . taking away a lot from my life, and it tends to become emotionally and mentally draining when you try to keep being confident or good at a lot of things all the time."

But just like that, Monika stopped talking. Putting on her mask to speak with people was easy enough; taking the mask off and opening up about the difficulties it brought, on the other hand, was more challenging than she had anticipated. She looked at Kenta once again, but she still couldn't bring herself to continue. Was it because she felt that she had said too much? Was it because she didn't trust Kenta enough, with him being merely a casual friend?

Kenta spoke before she could answer those, however. He still sounded nervous, but he looked determined as well. "I kinda know how that feels. I mean, it's not the same level as yours, but yeah, there are a few times when I also feel really tired about what I'm doing."

Monika was genuinely surprised now. "You do?"

Kenta nodded. "I mean, I know I'm a fun-loving guy, but most of the time, when I try to be serious, people don't even take me seriously anymore. They always say 'Oh, Kenta, you're joking again,' or 'Kenta, you're always trying to make everything funny.' I kinda feel like that little kid from that one story, the one with the sheep and the wolf, and it just . . . I dunno, it just sucks sometimes. So yeah, maybe I have an idea about how you f-feel."

A small silence followed his words, punctuated only by the bistro's ambient music and the muffled noises out in the streets below. He just stared down and finished the last of his coffee jelly. Monika stared at him earnestly, marveling at how much he had said in just a few simpler words, and how similar they were to hers. She wondered as well if this was a side of him that his friends knew of, or if they would take him seriously if they did. As she dwelt on those thoughts, she realized that she actually had something in common with this fiery-haired, delightful jokester than she had initially realized. In her eyes, this was a person who was not afraid to shed his mask, even in front of a simple casual friend like her, and that made her feel beholden.

"I really appreciate what you said, Kenta," she told him silently. "It makes me feel better that . . . that I'm not exactly alone in feeling this way."

Kenta coughed a little as he blushed again. "It's alright. Besides, that's one of the things about . . . about life that just makes me think sometimes: the fact that we're not as alone as we think we are. I mean, I thought earlier that just because Naoki and Daisuke left me out to dry, I was gonna be all alone, but then you came along and, um. . ."

Monika smiled. Kenta's words just kept striking her as oddly deep—odd considering they were coming from someone like him. But she beat down the thought and reprimanded herself for even trying to perceive Kenta from face value. Just because he's always a joker doesn't mean he doesn't have deeper thoughts and feelings as well. "I understand. Anyway, I know I've said this before, but I just want to thank you for helping me out and keeping me company."

Kenta shook his head as he laughed a little. "D-Don't mention it," he replied.

At that moment, her cellphone rang from inside her handbag. Monika took it out and saw that her driver was calling. "Hello, Mr. Fujita?" she answered.

Old Fujita's genial voice replied, "I'm in downtown now, Miss Monika. Where should I pick you up?"

"I'm here at the Cocoa Connection, as usual," said Monika. "Can you pick me up here?"

"Of course, Miss Monika," said Fujita. "I'll be there in five."

As Monika placed her cellphone back in her bag, she looked at Kenta. "Thanks again, Kenta."

"My p-pleasure," said Kenta. "And thanks too. You know, for keeping me company and all. . ."

"You're very much welcome!" With that, Monika stood up, deciding to make her way downstairs and wait for her driver there. If truth be told, she enjoyed talking to Kenta and sharing a coffee with him as much as she had enjoyed their last trips downtown. Moreover, she felt that, had Fujita not called to interrupt them, she would have begun sharing more as well after what he had shared. The moment had passed, however, and life must go on . . .

. . . Or had it passed indeed?

"Kenta, do you want to do this again sometime?"

Kenta turned slightly pale. ". . . What?" he mumbled.

She smiled at him. "It's just an idea that came to me. I mean, you're a really nice guy and all, and I like the time that we spent together today. It made me feel less tired than I usually am, and I truly appreciate that. If you want, we can hang out again like this, like . . . once every week. How does that sound? That is, only if you want to, of course. . ."

"Uh, well, er . . . You see, I . . ." Now Kenta was truly tongue-tied. Monika could see how tightly he was gripping his now-empty glass of coffee jelly. "I don't k-know. . ."

"Now, now, be honest, Kenta!" she said half-sternly, half-amusedly. "Yes or no?"

Kenta swallowed nervously as he stared directly into her eyes. He seemed unable to look away—and in some way, neither could Monika. She held onto the gaze longer than Kenta did, however, as he bowed and scratched his head apprehensively.

At last, he sighed and smiled timorously. "Y-Yeah, okay. . ."

Around ten minutes later, as she sat in the back of her family's car, Monika looked out of the tinted windows and observed the city as best as she could, but the excitement that she was already feeling for next week was starting to overwhelm her. She couldn't stop smiling, and neither could she sit still. Kenta had escorted her as far as the front of the Connection, patiently waiting until Fujita had arrived to pick her up. When she had left him, Kenta looked happier than he had initially been earlier outside school.

It was a world of infinite choices, indeed, and Monika felt that she may have just picked her first one tonight. As soon as she would get home, she knew that her notebook would undoubtedly have a new poem added to it, but for now, she eagerly took out her cellphone and texted Kenta's number.