A/N: From this point onward, depression, self-harm and other sensitive issues might be shown, portrayed or discussed in this chapter and others to come. Reader discretion is advised for those who are sensitive to such matters.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR - THE FESTIVAL (PART TWO)
As another hour passed, Naoki kept hoping that the festival's events and the presence of their friends would be enough to help Yuri feel comfortable. His dedication in staying with her, keeping her company to make sure that she would not feel like an outcast anymore, had evolved to a point where he was starting to actively monitor Yuri's mood in an effort to ensure that she would not encounter anything that would make her feel bad. It was an effort that made him feel odd, as if there was something fake about it all, but he quashed the thought as he knew that his worry about not being able to help was getting to him again. He had also privately felt bad for drawing Yuri away from Class 3-D's booths, knowing that she might have been enjoying a small conversation with Natsuki before he had shown up, but Yuri seemed keener on being with him than anyone else. If that was what she wanted, he was more than willing to be with her for the rest of the day.
Booth duty had been rather superfluous, to say the least; with the amount of willing volunteers who were looking to enjoy the day's events while helping out, Naoki and Yuri were free to roam and explore without the prospect of being called back to help. Because the two of them were fine with where they would be ending up, Naoki knew he could easily let Yuri lead the way and not force her to come along with him, but Yuri's severe introversion meant that he had to be the one doing the leading, which was not easy as a fellow introvert.
"Is there anywhere you want to go?" he asked her after a while.
"W-Wherever you go is okay with me," said Yuri timidly as she chewed on her last bite of the strawberry cupcake she had gotten earlier. Her copy of The Portrait of Markov was tucked underneath her arm.
"Hmm. . . Well, the open mic concert will be starting soon, I think. Do you want to stay around and watch the first acts?"
"If t-that's what you want."
This is gonna be a pickle. Racking his brain for a suitable thing to do, Naoki kept coming up short. The situation between them had improved ever so slightly, with the festival's preceding days giving them a bit of time to recover from that shocking discovery he had made at Yuri's house, but there was still an air of awkwardness and seriousness that hung between them like a thick veil. Naoki was sure that Yuri could sense it too.
"Do you want to go back?" he asked her at last.
Yuri looked around at him, startled. "What do you mean . . . ?"
"You seemed to be having a nice time talking to Natsuki earlier," said Naoki with a grin. "I think I might've disturbed you two when I showed up looking for you. If you want to go back, and talk to her some more, I'd be happy to oblige you. Maybe I can talk to Daisuke in the meantime."
"Ah, no, t-that's okay," said Yuri, smiling back. "Although I will admit, talking to Natsuki was pretty nice. I talked to her about writing some new pieces about the festival, a-and she told me that she might end up trying it out for herself after listening to me." Yuri let out a nervous laugh. "I never thought that I w-would end up inspiring someone like that, to be honest. . ."
"Well, that's what happens when you're good at something and people see it. You inspire them to do stuff, and it just becomes this cycle of productive positivity. That's good."
"Y-Yes," said Yuri, nodding. "I suppose it is."
All of a sudden, a shrill noise pierced through the air, blaring from the speakers across the open field and cutting off the music that had been playing earlier. Naoki looked up with a start and held up a hand to his ear, as did nearly everyone else. Yuri looked frightened for a moment as she quickly clung to him, prompting Naoki to hold onto her arm instinctively with his free hand, but the noise subsided as quickly as it had come, descending in tone until it became recognizable as that of an electric guitar.
"Oh, the open mic's starting!" a voice in the crowd rang out. Within seconds, others took up the cry, and some students began moving towards the center of the field where the stage for the open mic concert was. Craning his head above the crowd, Naoki saw that a band had already gathered on the stage, sound-checking their instruments one last time as people gathered around them.
At that moment, as he regained his awareness over his surroundings and all that was going on around him, Naoki felt the warm sensation of an arm being firmly grasped in his hand. He turned back to look at Yuri, and the two of them locked eyes. He noticed that she was breathing rather rapidly, a flush creeping up her neck, and she was so close that he could feel her breath caressing his face faintly.
"Are you okay?" he asked her.
Yuri nodded, her breath growing shaky. "I'm okay. M-My arm, though . . ."
At that, Naoki glanced down, noticing then just how tightly he was holding on to her—and how, in his excitement, he had failed to notice that it was her left forearm that he was gripping, his fingers bracing exactly where . . . where . . .
"Ah, I'm really sorry!" he cried out, letting go in a flash.
"It's okay," said Yuri, though her words seemed to contradict the way she winced as she ran her right hand down her forearm in a caress.
"Did it h-hurt?" Naoki asked.
"Q-Quite. You have a strong grip, Naoki," said Yuri in reply, though she tried to reassure him with a small smile. Gingerly, she rolled back her sleeve slightly, as if to peek at her scars. Naoki saw then that she had bandaged her forearm rather tightly, and his heart fell when he saw that the top of the bandages were now tinged with red.
"Oh, dear," Yuri muttered quietly, careful not to let anyone hear as she hastily unfurled her sleeve. "Some of the cuts seem to have split . . . B-But it's okay, though!" she added as she noticed his mounting apprehension. "I do this sometimes to myself when I'm not aware," said Yuri. "If you don't mind, though . . . d-do you think you can accompany me someplace where I can clean this up?"
"Of course," said Naoki, ready to make up for the mishap. "Come on."
Yuri directed him towards the restrooms next to the gymnasium, but the two of them stopped when they saw that they had been taken over by a number of students. Some of them were going in and out, intent on either joining the stints for the festival by donning their own costumes or wrapping up their routines for the day as they got dressed back in their uniforms. Either way, there were simply far too many for Yuri to go about her business in private.
"Let's j-just find another place," she told him. "Maybe the comfort rooms at the main building are less crowded."
"No, wait. I think there's a closer spot that we can get to," said Naoki in return.
The spot in question was a small space behind the gymnasium, where there was a maintenance shed. Crates, spare chairs and a few dustbins were there, inadvertently providing cover from any people that chanced to pass by at the gym's covered walks. Naoki guided Yuri by the hand towards the shed's furthest wall, leaving behind the din of the festival as they went until the two of them were safely behind it.
"How did you know about this place?" asked Yuri. "To tell you the truth, I didn't even know that there was a shed here."
"It's a spot where some of our friends would go to in order to skip P.E. activities and stuff," Naoki replied. "I've overheard them talking about it a few times before. Given that they've never been caught, I guess no one except the groundskeeper bothers to come around here often. Anyway, here."
He waved towards a nearby crate, motioning for Yuri to sit. Yuri obeyed, her hands pressed neatly on her skirt as she sat down. "I-Is the coast really clear?" she asked as she set down her Markov copy on the ground next to her.
"I think so," Naoki replied, looking around towards the way they came. "Go right ahead and . . . you know, do what you need to do."
Placing a hand on her sleeve, Yuri looked hesitant. And rightfully so, Naoki thought. This was, after all, her deepest, darkest secret that she was about to lay bare again, and it felt wrong for him to see it a second time given the inadvertent nature of how he stumbled across it before. Yuri looked at him, her amethyst-like eyes almost twinkling with fearful anticipation. Naoki shifted, ready to leave if she said so.
Yuri instead lowered her gaze and rolled back her sleeve once again, fully exposing her bandaged forearm this time. Alternating his glances between her and the path back towards the open field, as if he didn't want to stare too much at her arm, Naoki saw that the spots where he had gripped her forearm were indeed the ones that were now stained with blood. A twinge of guilt tugged at him at the sight. In contrast, Yuri looked calm—almost resigned, even—as she picked at a corner and began unfurling the bandage. For a moment, Naoki wondered if he should look away for real this time, given the highly sensitive nature of the sight that was about to unfold before him, far different from stains on white sweaters or bloodstained bandages. But before he could make his decision, Yuri had already taken it off.
Naoki said nothing, but he could not stop himself from drawing in a sharp breath. The cuts had indeed burst anew, with the smaller ones beaded with tiny scarlet droplets. The deep ones, though very few, were easily the worst, given how they seemed to glisten wetly in the afternoon light, fresher than they had seemed back at Yuri's house. It spoke volumes to him about Yuri's insecurities and woes, and how severe they had to be for her to even consider cutting herself so deeply like that. Yuri, on the other hand, kept moving as if he wasn't even there, carefully draping the bandage over her knee and reaching into her skirt's pocket. She pulled out a small handkerchief and began dabbing at her cuts, careful not to wipe too hard lest she draw more blood by accident. She winced as she brushed the fabric against her wounds, pain and shame evident in her eyes, and still Naoki was unable to look away.
Again, Yuri reached into her pocket, pulling out a small bottle of alcohol this time. She opened it one-handed, placed the handkerchief against its mouth and tipped it over a number of times, dampening the cloth with its contents. However, the bottle slipped suddenly out of her hand, landing and leaking out droplets of alcohol on the ground. Quickly, Naoki went towards her, knelt down and picked the bottle up. As he was about to hand it back to Yuri, however, he hesitated as soon as he saw that her hands were starting to tremble, showing him why she had dropped the bottle in the first place. He shifted his glance up to her face and saw how pale and utterly uneasy she looked.
"I'm s-sorry," she murmured, swallowing nervously in an attempt to curb her obvious discomfort. "I'm . . . I think I . . ."
"It's okay, Yuri. It's okay," he told her in a kind voice. "Do you want me to . . . t-to help you clean up?"
The offer had come to him almost involuntarily, though in hindsight Naoki knew it was the only offer he could make. As much as he wanted to give Yuri some space, having already stumbled across her secret in an accidental, almost unwarranted way before, a part of him knew that she needed company more than ever right now, and who better to be there for that than him? True enough, sharing literary interests seemed trivial compared to seeing a person's demons, but Naoki would never forget the bond that the two of them had connected with each other's help, nor would he forsake it now that Yuri needed company, possibly more than ever.
"I mean, only if you want me to," he added. "If you're not okay with that, I can give you some space for a bit."
Yuri shook her head. "It's f-fine. If y-you want to help . . . thank you."
Naoki nodded, and with that he inched closer to her. Yuri handed him the handkerchief, her hands still shaking. He took it, dampened it with a bit more alcohol, and carefully began wiping it against her scars. Yuri drew in a sharp breath, but Naoki soothed her by blowing air lightly on the bleeding cuts. The cloth soon began turning red, its fresh medicinal scent dissipating in the cold air between them. The deeper cuts made Yuri shudder even more as she involuntarily twitched her arm backwards, but she forced herself to let it stay atop her knee as Naoki worked in silence. He moved carefully, not wanting to pat the cloth any harder if he could help it, but the pain was still evident as Yuri began breathing raggedly, as if she was about to cry. Somehow, the sound of it made him feel ashamed; ashamed as if he was the one who caused her pain, ashamed of the fact that he had not noticed things sooner, that he did not have all the answers or help that Yuri needed and deserved, just like all the other people he had read about as they shared their real-life experiences on online forums, laying bare their physical, mental and emotional scars for all to see and understand just how deep this kind of trauma and pain ran.
At last, after what felt like an eternity, Naoki stopped cleaning the cuts and scars. He handed the handkerchief back to Yuri and took the bandages that she had worn. His hand curled around hers, he pinned one end of it with his thumb against her pulse and began rewrapping it around her forearm. Yuri's breathing began stabilizing now that the pain had passed, and she made an effort to help him, making sure that everything was wound up both tightly and comfortably. When it was all done, the two of them locked gazes.
Yuri broke the silence by slowly extricating her hand and arm away from him. "It's . . . h-horrible, isn't it? To be like this. For you to s-see me like this. . . I feel like a monster."
"You're not a monster, Yuri," Naoki responded firmly.
"H-How can you be sure?" Yuri clenched her hands, balling them into fists. "I feel so vulgar, so dirty and abnormal . . . and it feels even worse b-because I don't think I can stop doing it. Not anymore, a-at least. I'm scared that I've grown too acclimated, t-too . . . dependent already to this. But I want to try and move past it all, t-to improve. I've stayed clean for a while, and I wanted so desperately to think that it would stay that way for a very long time. After what happened, I wanted to focus on the brighter side, on the things that matter a-and the people who can help me avoid thinking about it, like you most of all . . . b-but it's hard. I keep thinking about the next t-time that it will happen, and if it'll be worse than before. B-Because the hard part about it is that if I b-become too anxious, I just . . . do it. And I don't even know what's w-worse—if I do it because I've lost control over myself, or if I do it b-because I still know enough to choose to do it. It just tears me apart. . ."
She shook her magnificent head, looking terribly distressed. Naoki reached out and took her hand in his again as an attempt to provide comfort. In spite of her pain, Yuri did not shrink away this time, but she did not reciprocate his movements either.
"I keep looking back," Yuri continued. "I keep revisiting my memories, trying to figure out when this all started, because I n-never stopped for once to think about how this began. I-It's kind of like how Libitina did it in Markov, y-you know? When she would try remembering with all her might about her past, a-and she would come up short. I think . . . I think that's how it is with me. I can't seem to find any specific experience in the past t-that caused me to be like this. No huge t-traumatic experience, no shameful moment that stood out, nothing. It just . . . happened." She beseeched him again with her amethyst gaze, looking despondent. "Maybe I was always like this. . . M-Maybe I've been abnormal from the start, and that's why people t-tend to look at me funny all the time. Or maybe I'm just making up things f-for attention and p-pity. . ."
"No, that's not true, Yuri," said Naoki. "You're not abnormal, and this is anything but a lie. This is . . . I mean, in this day and age, these kinds of problems are starting to become more noticed precisely because they are very real, and even so, they don't define a person. From what I've read, from what I've seen online, this issue of self-harming . . . it's something that comes from a person's negative experiences just piling up over and over until it becomes too much, and they use it to cope with those problems because to them, it's the only outlet they have that works. We've seen this in literature, right? Remember Curt Morgan in Dystopium? Or the Johnsons in Laughing at the Shadows? And Libitina from Markov, like you said. These themes, centering on these kinds of mental illnesses and disorders . . . they exist in literature because they exist in real life. They're real problems being experienced by real people like you and I. And like any problems, they can be addressed. That's what I want to believe in, especially in your case.
"I don't have any words that will make all this better, instantly or otherwise," he continued silently. "I can exhaust everything that I've read so far about all this, about self-harm and such, and I still wouldn't be able to come up with the right words. But I will repeat this nonetheless—no matter what happens, I will be here for you, okay? If you need someone to talk to, if you need company when your anxiety's triggering, you can come to me. I'd be more than willing to stand by you."
"But wouldn't that b-be bothersome for you?" Yuri stammered.
"No, never. You don't have to worry about that, because to me it will never be bothersome. You can talk to me about anything, anything at all, and at your own pace. I won't force you to share anything that you don't feel comfortable sharing, and I won't impose anything on you. Just . . . if you need me to listen, I'm here. If you want to talk about poetry or horror, if you want to make more on-the-spot haikus or go to The Monocle again, you can come to me. I'll stay beside you and listen all day if I have to. I promised to help you, and I'll do everything I can to keep that promise. This is something that you don't have to face alone, not anymore."
He squeezed her hand lightly, prompting Yuri to smile as her face flushed with emotion. Naoki could only gaze into her eyes, temporarily overcome with the emotion that he had felt, the words he had been itching to say—and he knew that there was always more to be said in the future, and he was more than happy to repeat them if needed.
"To be honest . . . I don't know what I would do w-without you, Naoki," she whispered. "I think it goes without saying that . . . that I really appreciate e-everything that you've been doing for me."
"You're very much welcome, Yuri," Naoki replied, smiling. He looked around at their surroundings, at how isolated their current location was, and yet there was something oddly comforting about it all. Nevertheless, he asked, "Do you want to go back now?"
Yuri considered for a moment. "I think it's fine if w-we stay here for a bit. Maybe we can read a chapter or two, if you want."
She reached down and picked up her copy of The Portrait of Markov, placing it on her lap. "That sounds nice, but . . . I don't have my copy with me again," said Naoki, laughing.
Yuri laughed as well, in that timid tone that made her so innocent and interesting in Naoki's eyes, belying the grim nature of her problems. It only served to reinforce his decision tenfold to be there for her.
"D-Do you want to share again?" she asked, patting her book.
Naoki blushed in spite of himself. "Yes, that would be nice."
Jogging through the street, his breath rising with each meter he traversed, Akihiro wondered why he was so late in choosing to check in on Sayori. His instincts had been creeping in, planting doubt and worry in his mind gradually until his encounter with Kenta convinced him to finally go out to find her. To his relief, his classmates back at the booths had excused his absence for the scavenger race, choosing someone else to fill in for him while he was gone. Still, Akihiro wanted to be back as soon as possible, and so he quickened his pace as he rounded a street corner, going down at last on the familiar stretch of pavement that led to Sayori's neighborhood. Instinctively, Akihiro began to run at the sight. As much as he wanted to keep giving everything the benefit of the doubt, he could not help but keep tying Sayori's absence to the sadness that she was seemingly prone to feeling nowadays, especially when he was not around.
I should've walked with her to school. Maybe she was expecting me to be there so we could go together? No, that doesn't feel like it. Maybe . . . Maybe she fell sick and can't get out of bed? Or she's not at home, and instead she ran into some sort of trouble.
At this point, Akihiro struggled with the logic that he was beginning to make mountains out of molehills. Perhaps Sayori was fine, and she really just woke up late and was now going to school. Perhaps by the time he arrived at her place, she would be racing out the door, and they would collide on the staircase and have something to laugh at for the rest of the day. However, he still could not shove aside the thought that something was wrong.
It was a comfort then for him to finally see her apartment in the distance. Akihiro ran even faster, stalling only momentarily to open the front gates and doors instead of barreling straight into them. The caretaker at ground floor greeted him with a smile as he swept the floors with a broom, but Akihiro could only smile back for a split second before he was jogging up the stairs in a flash.
When he was at her unit's door at last, however, Akihiro hesitated; partly to take in a few deep breaths to ease his racing heartbeat, and partly because he had no idea what to say. His mind had been so focused on reaching Sayori's place in time that he didn't even manage to send her a text ahead or plan how he would approach her as soon as he saw her. How would she react? She might think it's her fault that I ran all the way over here, all worried sick about her. She might end up feeling bad. . .
Regardless of what Sayori's reaction might be, Akihiro had made his choice already back at the festival. He held his fist out and rapped his knuckles three times against the wood. "Sayori? Sayori, are you in there?" he called out.
The door remained firmly shut. Akihiro knocked once again. "Sayori? It's Akihiro. Are you still sleeping? Wake up, dummy!"
Again, there was no answer. Unable to resist, Akihiro leaned forward and listened with all his might. No sounds could be heard from within. Somehow, that worried him even more.
"Sayori? Is that you in there? It's me, Akihiro!" he cried out, some of his worry creeping into his voice.
When there was still no reply, Akihiro reached out and grasped the unit's doorknob. He gave it a twist, and his surprise put a halt to his worries as he felt the knob move freely; the door had not been locked all this time. Akihiro's heart began beating faster again all of a sudden, thinking on what he should do. If Sayori was indeed inside, she would have already heard him calling out to her, or at least heard the doorknob rattle as he twisted at it. Akihiro closed his eyes for a moment, sighing. As much as he did not want to enter her room like this, with it feeling like a breach of privacy that not even a childhood friend like him can do, he felt that there was no other choice for him to take.
He gently opened the door.
The air inside the apartment unit felt strangely different. Akihiro sensed it as soon as the door opened. No lights were on, and the curtains on the windows had been drawn, so it was dark even if it was still the middle of the afternoon outside. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Akihiro stepped forward almost gingerly. The first thing he noticed was how cluttered the room was, at least compared to the few recent times he had been in it. Admittedly, he had seen worse before, but the messy nature of the room now stood out to him even more, and not necessarily in a good way. Careful not to bump against the small dining table, Akihiro remembered that fateful weekend long ago when he and Sayori decided to take the first big steps of their relationship now, starting with him making breakfast for her in this very unit. The memory of it all warmed his heart a little, but his worry persisted.
Moving towards the bed, he called out again, "S-Sayori?"
But before he could go any further, there she was. Sayori looked lifeless as she lay next to her bed on the floor, her arm only limply touching the stuffed cow that her head rested against, the same stuffed cow that she had won with his help back at the arcade that one time. From the dim light of the unit, Akihiro saw that she was in her school uniform, excluding her blazer and sweater vest. Even odder, her shoes were still on, as if she had forgotten to take them off.
Akihiro quickly flipped the nearest light switch on. His eyes were temporarily struck by the sudden departure of the darkness, but he moved next to Sayori nonetheless, kneeling down on the floor. As his eyesight adjusted to the light, he soon saw that Sayori looked more disheveled than he had ever seen her, alarming him further; her hair was uncombed, with wayward strands and locks here and there, with her red bow sitting askew atop it all. Her uniform's inner shirt was wrinkled, and as he avoided any untoward peeks Akihiro noticed that she had buttoned it up in the wrong places. The only comfort he could derive at the moment was that Sayori was breathing rather peacefully, indicating that she was merely fast asleep. Akihiro swallowed anxiously, wondering if he should wake her up or not, but a quick glance at the nearby clock on the wall reminded him of how pressed for time he might be.
Akihiro reached out and gently began shaking her awake. "Sayori?" he murmured in a low voice.
After a few seconds, he heard her draw in a long breath. Her eyelids fluttered slowly as she leaned up, resting her body on her left elbow. She shook her head drearily and looked up as Akihiro patted her shoulder. In spite of the sleepiness that still gripped her, her eyes widened.
"A-Akihiro?!" she said, drawing back against her bed. "W-What? I . . . You . . . How did you g-get in here?!"
"Hey, it's okay, take it easy," said Akihiro kindly, not wanting to disconcert her further. "You left the door unlocked, that's how."
"The door?" Sayori glanced at her unit's door, looking slightly confused as her wits adjusted against her lingering drowsiness. Slowly, realization dawned on her face. "Oh! I-I think I forgot to lock it last night!"
"I think so too." Akihiro smiled, though he was also privately shaken by the idea that Sayori had potentially left herself at risk by leaving her door unlocked all night. Still, now was not the time to scold her for any lapses. "It's okay, though. I arrived just now because I wanted to check on you. I've been trying to call and text you all day."
Sayori looked at him again, her breath rising. "You were?" she asked, looking scared all of a sudden. "I . . . I couldn't hear my phone. I just fell asleep. I-I don't even know how long I've been sleeping. . ." Slowly, a mixture of horror and realization dawned on her face. "The festival! Oh, no! W-What time is it?"
"Well, it's a quarter past two, if you wanna know," said Akihiro, looking again at the wall clock behind him. "What happened here? Why are you, like . . . ?"
As she attempted to regain her bearings, Sayori glanced around her room, as if she was seeing everything for the first time in a harried stupor. She put her hand on her bed for support, as if she contemplated standing up, but her body gradually grew limp all over again. Feeling disconcerted by her sudden changes in mood, Akihiro scooted slightly closer to her.
"Hey, are you okay?" he asked. "What's the—?"
Sayori bowed her head, her lip quivering. Akihiro felt the words catch in his throat at the sight. If Sayori looked defeated before, she looked even more crushed now as tears suddenly trickled from the corners of her eyes.
"S-Sayori? What is it? Why are you . . . ?"
Hastily, Sayori wiped away the tears with the back of her hand, though more soon leaked out before she could even try stopping them. She attempted to smile at him, but the obvious unhappiness on her face caused the expression to curdle like spoiled milk. The sight of it brought back trepidation in Akihiro's core, creeping up on him until he felt chills running through his spine.
"Did something happen?" asked Akihiro, his worry reaching its fever pitch. The same troubling energy he had been feeling when Sayori was having nightmares has now returned in full force, though this time he sensed that it could be even worse. "Sayori, come on, you can tell me, okay? What happened to you?"
Sayori shook her head, a sob almost escaping her lips as she sucked in a breath to try and steady her voice. "I remember," she said in a small voice. "I remembered just now . . . I'm sorry, it's a stupid thing, really. . . I've just b-been careless all over again. . ."
"Careless? Sayori, what do you mean? W-What happened?" Akihiro insisted, his mind already racing. As much as he didn't want to force Sayori to talk in such a state, his concern was dictating him to get to the root of the matter.
Sayori wiped away some more tears before she spoke up again, her voice quaking. "I went out last night. I . . . I picked up the m-money Mom sent me. Y-You know, for my allowance and the rent. It's just the usual. I go to the nearest ATM, pick it up, tell her I got it, that's it. B-But when I woke up, I couldn't . . . I couldn't find the money anywhere."
Akihiro stared at her for a few moments, digesting the information in silence. Somehow, he felt that he was expecting an entirely different matter that was bothering Sayori, though he had also wondered what she had meant by "careless." Based on his experiences with her, he had equated Sayori with the word carelessness before, but that had been the kind of carelessness that he had grown to associate her with, the innocent type often possessed by someone as bubbly and childlike as she was—forgetting to bring an important assignment to school, saying things out of hand when she gets too excited, breaking objects when she gets too distracted to hold onto them properly, that was what Akihiro was familiar with. This, however, with her evident despondence and the fact that she was so obviously distracted by her woes that she had forgotten to lock her door for the night . . .
Sayori quailed beneath his gaze, as if she was expecting him to react violently for some reason at her admitted ineptitude. She went on with a miserable tone. "I don't r-remember where I put it, or if I dropped it somewhere out there, if it got stolen or something, I don't know. I tried looking for it again t-this morning—like, maybe it's just somewhere in here, and I'm just not looking hard enough, but . . . I guess I just fell asleep while I was at it. I've been up all night trying to find it and . . ." She sighed. "It's stupid, right? Just another s-stupid mistake I had to make. Mom's gonna be so mad at me for losing that money, I can already tell." She shook her head again, her voice starting to waver. "I feel so useless right now. . ."
"Hey, don't say that," said Akihiro. "You don't have to beat yourself up over that."
"Why not?" Sayori insisted as she stifled another sob. "It's true, right? I just mess up so badly s-sometimes, and when I do, it's always something big. Mom's gonna kill me. I just know it."
"No, don't think about it that way, okay? J-Just . . ." Akihiro fumbled with his words, wondering what else he could say to try and comfort her. "I don't know, but it's okay, though. I thought something else had happened to you, t-to be honest. . ."
Sayori gave him a pained look. "You're worried about me again, a-aren't you?"
Akihiro paused for a moment, sensing what was coming as he remembered Sayori's sentiments about his concern before. Still, a lie would not do, not when Sayori was this troubled.
"Of course I am, Sayori. Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't want you to be worried like this!" Sayori scooted away from him, as if she did not want to sully his vicinity with her presence, and she bunched herself up against the edge of her bed and Mr. Cow behind her. "Y-You said that you came all the way here from school to check on me when you're s-supposed to be at the festival, r-right? What if you get into trouble because of m-me?"
"Sayori, listen—"
"No! This is my fault! First I lost Mom's money, and now this? I can't do anything right! W-Why can't I just take care of my problems on my own, without bothering you or anyone else? I really am useless. Just a hopeless, careless, s-stupid little . . ."
Her words faltering, Sayori began to cry, turning her head away from him. Akihiro felt helpless as he watched her cry. It was not just sadness, but also self-loathing and frustration that colored the sounds of her sobs. Again, it was an upsetting shock compared to the degree of joy that the two of them had been through only recently. Akihiro wondered for a moment if this was a pattern that was starting to take off, but he dismissed the thought vehemently, not wanting to breathe enough life into it to the point where it actually became true.
Following the only option he had at the moment, he scooted over to Sayori and gently pulled her into an embrace. Sayori resisted at first, trying to swat his arms away as if she did not deserve any semblance of comfort from him right now, but her emotions soon got the better of her as she let herself fall onto him.
"It's okay, Sayori. It's okay," he whispered, stroking Sayori's head comfortingly as she wept into his shoulder. He guided her gently as he leaned back against her bed for support. "We'll figure something out for that money, yeah? Don't worry. Maybe it's just around here somewhere. I'll help you look later if you want."
"Y-You don't have to. . ." Sayori whimpered. "You don't. . ." But Akihiro simply shook his head and tightened his embrace. The minutes soon passed, and as Sayori's sobs began to die down at last, Akihiro began thinking of a way to start distracting her from her current predicament.
"If you're still feeling up to it, you can come with me back to school," he told her in an encouraging tone, still stroking the back of her head. "You know you're missing out on the food at the bazaar, right? Seriously, the stuff they're serving—yakisoba, takoyaki, and there's even some of the korokke that you love—I keep looking at it all, and I just end up remembering you."
There was silence for a moment before Sayori looked up at him, her eyes red from her tears. ". . . T-There's korokke?"
Feeling grateful that she had calmed down, Akihiro grinned. "That and a lot more, like I said. We can go back together, and I'll treat you to anything that you want. Do you like that?"
Sayori shook her head. "Not if you're going to spend your own money again," she muttered sullenly.
"Sayori, you don't have to worry about me that much, okay? I'm okay with it. Until we find your allowance, it's my treat, and I promise that I won't make fun of you for it. Besides, you haven't eaten lunch yet, right? You can't enjoy the festival on an empty stomach, you know?"
Sayori said nothing for a moment. Her eyes still looked deprived of any joy or resolve, but Akihiro knew that her hunger was something she couldn't simply set aside. Akihiro kept stroking her head, combing and smoothing out any wayward locks with his fingers. When he was done, he began drying up her remaining tears with his thumb. Releasing her breath in a small hiss, Sayori reached towards his hand and held onto it tenderly.
"So what'll it be?" he asked her softly. "Do you want to go back?"
Sayori looked up at him. The smile she gave him was slightly better than the broken one she attempted before, but the sad, tired and tearful look in her eyes still persisted, deprived of the air of innocent radiance that Sayori often had.
"Ten more minutes?" she asked quietly.
Akihiro smiled back as he brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek. Staring at her like this, he knew that Kenta was right—his concern took priority over the urgency of the festival, or even any other matter right now.
"Take all the time you need."
"T-Thank you. . ." At that, Sayori lowered her gaze and rested her head against him once again, letting out a dejected sigh as she did, but her hand never left his in spite of that. As he watched her close her eyes, Akihiro knew that the business with her lost money was a lot more problematic than he would like to believe, but seeing Sayori in such a vulnerable state made him stick to his guns. Again, he whispered to himself that same promise he had made long ago, with Sayori's head resting against him in the aftermath of despondency. He rested his head against hers, savoring her warmth, letting her know that he was still there, feeling more at ease as he felt her fingers curl even tighter around his in response.
Like a hawk, Natsuki had kept observing shrewdly for anything in her surroundings that gave her the slightest hint of something negative. Students came and went, as did Mrs. Matsuda before them, all drawn by a combination of word of mouth and attraction towards their booths. Their wares and the balloon pop display all seemed secondary when compared to the attraction that had drawn people to them in the first place—the cupcakes. Everyone who left their booths with a cupcake in hand, Natsuki monitored closely. Given that her years' worth of experience in dealing with people who shallowly patronized or ridiculed her interests had given her a knack of sniffing out reactions, she was bound to see many similar expressions today. After all, she had not been present during the first time she had baked for a school event, and perhaps her class adviser had simply lied about people loving her cupcakes in an effort to avoid hurting her feelings.
But the more she observed, the more she became confused, almost flabbergasted. Smiles. Compliments. Surprise once the visitors found out that she had been the one who baked the same cupcakes they tasted. Mrs. Matsuda had been a given, though Natsuki could not help but feel extremely elated nonetheless by her compliments earlier, but with these students, her fellow schoolmates, their praises were of a different experience for her. She stood back, unable to respond to their words with anything more than a simple nod and a word of thanks, eagerly reciprocated by the patrons who were all too happy to have tasted such treats and commend her for her work. Natsuki reeled in silence, still rather numbed to the positivity by her own pessimism to even digest that yes, just as Daisuke had been positing all along, in spite of her own doubts, people would end up liking if not outright loving her baking. And here she was, witnessing what seemed to be the absurd, the distant, the unbelievable.
"H-Here you go. Thanks for visiting," she muttered to another visitor who had bought a pair of coasters that some of their classmates had knitted, handing her a strawberry cream cupcake. The girl—an upperclassman, no less, and one of many already—took a bite of the cupcake and immediately cried out, "Whoa, this is really nice. Did you guys make these?"
"Well, she did most of the work, to be honest."
"That's really cool," the girl responded, smiling at Natsuki. "Thank you!"
When she stared around at him, Daisuke merely smiled at her and moved on to other things. Of course, he had been beside her all the way, helping her hand out the cupcakes and only too eager to inform visitors that Natsuki was the hand that made the desserts they were being given. Natsuki had resented him for that in the first few minutes after Mrs. Matsuda had left, not wanting him to draw any unwanted attention to her and deepen her embarrassment any more than she needed, but once the initial compliments started coming in, Natsuki's resentment slowly ebbed away. Daisuke, on the other hand, did not poke fun at her even once about it all. Instead, he simply did what he needed to do and asked if there was anything that Natsuki needed help with. And even though he dropped into their neighboring booths every once in a while to help make more balloons for their display or take out more of their DIY wares to replace sold ones, every time a visitor dropped by Natsuki's spot for a cupcake, he would be there to keep her company.
When there was a lull in the arrival of visitors, Natsuki sat down on the chair behind her and exhaled, feeling rather overwhelmed. At that, some of her classmates from the other booths approached her. Natsuki looked up as they walked closer.
"Natsuki?" one of them called out.
"Yeah? What is it?" Natsuki muttered, raising her eyebrows at them.
Her classmate hesitated with a glance at her fellows. Natsuki could not help but think that they were reluctant in voicing whatever they wanted to say due to her reputation—that, and the uninviting air of the mask on her face.
"Is it true? Did you bake all these cupcakes?" the girl finally asked.
Natsuki paused for a moment before nodding. "Didn't Daisuke tell you guys already?"
"Well . . . we thought he was joking, to be honest," another replied with a nervous laugh. "I mean, I've been classmates with Daisuke before, and he can be a bit of a joker."
"Yeah, that's true." Natsuki looked behind her classmates towards Daisuke, who was chatting with someone in the other booth. "Is that all you wanna ask?"
"Ah, not really. We were wondering if . . . if we could talk to you about baking some more."
Natsuki sat up straighter. "W-What do you mean?"
"Well, the thing is that we're talking to the class officers about this small party that we might be having around the middle of December, before Christmas. Nothing too grand, just a day where we can all eat and have fun as a class. Tadano and the rest of the officers are considering it, and we've been helping them plan what the food will be if ever."
Narrowing her eyes, Natsuki knew where they were going. "You want me to b-bake again, this time for the party, right?"
"Yes," replied her classmate, looking rather relieved. "It's just that . . . well, when we tasted one of your cupcakes from the batch you gave the class, we were just blown away."
"Did Daisuke put you up to this?" Natsuki hissed, shooting another glare at Daisuke's back.
"No, not at all!" her classmates said quickly, scrambling to clarify things in unison. "No, it was just a thought we had after tasting your cupcakes—like, everyone who tasted them absolutely loved them, and we're sure that those who didn't get to taste any would agree once they do. Anyway, everyone who's willing is gonna bring something for the party—potluck, utensils and plates, stuff like that. Those who can't bring food are ready to just chip in some money like they did for the festival, so you won't have to worry about the ingredients or anything. And if you need any help in the baking, we're ready to help!"
"But of course, if you don't want to do it, it's okay," one of them reassured her. "Your help for the festival is enough."
"Definitely," added another. "I think this is the most we've had from the cultural festival in terms of money and visitors, and your baking's a big part of what made that happen."
Natsuki stared at their faces—none of them looked to be joking, and they kept looking at her with that same mixture of eagerness and reluctance, most likely because they didn't want her to be incensed at their invitation but were nonetheless hoping that she would accept. It was a surreal feeling, to witness people who were only casual acquaintances before now approaching her with genuine intentions instead of just outright patronizing her talents with a lack of seriousness. It was in the same vein as the praise she got from Daisuke's friends, or from Mrs. Matsuda and her suggestion that she could sell her work if she wanted to.
"I'll think about it, o-okay?" she finally declared. "I don't want to promise anything, but if things aren't too hectic, maybe . . . yeah, maybe I can do it."
At that, her classmates' faces lit up. "Sweet! Thank you so much, Natsuki!"
"We'll update you about this in the future. If we finally set down the date, we'll do everything we can to help you prep!"
Natsuki waved her hand at them, feeling heat creep up her face and ears. "Yeah, yeah, sure thing," she muttered. "Thanks f-for asking me first too."
When her classmates had gone back to their duties at the booths, Daisuke returned at last, sitting beside her with a smile. "So, how's everything going so far?" he asked.
Natsuki shot him a look. "You didn't t-tell anyone in class that I'd be willing to bake for that party they're planning before Christmas, are you?"
Daisuke raised his eyebrows blankly. "Wait, what? I didn't say anything."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Of course!" Daisuke quickly raised his hands, as if to prove his innocence. "I mean, I know that they're planning a party and all, but I didn't tell them anything like what you mentioned. Why are you asking?"
Natsuki sighed. Though she had guessed as much, she had wanted to confirm it nonetheless, her skepticism unwilling to let her believe all of it even for a moment. "They want me to bake for the party. I didn't promise anything just yet, but I . . . I told them I'll see if I can."
"Wait, so they actually requested that you bake?" Daisuke's surprise was merely another confirmation. "That's . . . well, I hope that's okay with you. I mean, I thought this was just a one-time thing for the festival. I didn't expect them to, y'know, ask like this. . ."
"I know, right?" Natsuki paused for a moment, feeling her heart beating slightly faster, and yet it was not out of any anxiousness or discomfort on her part. Rather, it was different, almost . . . positive.
"E-Excuse me." And with that, she stood up, circled around back outside the booth and bolted towards the restrooms at the gymnasium.
She exhaled a sigh of relief as she saw that there were very few people now at the restrooms, but Natsuki looked beyond them, not having any business in the girls' comfort room. Instead, she raced past the few students that were coming out, darted behind a spot that shielded her from the view of the open field, and pressed her back against the wall there. Only then did she let her tears fall.
It was a very cathartic feeling for her—the praise, the encouragement, the gratitude, all of it. Natsuki breathed deeply, but she found herself unable to stabilize her breaths as she began to sob. She took her face mask off, useless now that there were no people about, and wiped her tears with its fabric, but more kept coming. She laughed, steeped in disbelief at first as she saw how utterly contradictory the expression was to her crying, but she kept it up nonetheless, the sound of her laughter a silent celebration of relief and comfort and joy that often eluded her in the bleak life she led. Her shoulders shaking from her sobs, her hands trembling, she sank down against the wall and kept weeping and laughing, remembering every little thing that led up to this day, this moment. She remembered the bits that made it all even better—Mrs. Matsuda's continued kindness, her classmates' newfound admiration for her baking, Yuri's company, Daisuke's presence. Unbidden, she looked up towards the sky and remembered the memory of her mother alongside it all, and she felt more tears form at her eyes and fall down her cheeks.
"Natsuki?"
Natsuki looked around, knowing that any pretense was pointless now that she was caught crying and unable to clean up her tears in time, but it was only Daisuke who was standing some distance away. Of course he followed me, she intoned in her mind. She took a deep breath again, wiping the wetness of her nose with her sleeve, and looked over at him.
"W-What?" she said, her voice hiccupping slightly as she tried to sound firm.
"Are you okay?" asked Daisuke, walking closer to her.
"I'm fine," Natsuki muttered, standing up quickly and facing him in spite of her tears and vulnerability.
Daisuke placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Natsuki looked up at him, her watery eyes boring deep into his. Against the brightness from the open field compared to the dark corner she had chosen, Daisuke seemed to glow like an angel in her eyes. Then again, perhaps he always did.
"Look," he said, the contrite expression on his handsome face telling Natsuki the reason why he had come rushing after her. "I . . . I didn't expect things to turn out like this, and I think that it might've caused you a bit of discomfort or something. If you're upset, I understand, and I'm sorry. Baking for the festival . . . it might've just caused you more trouble than you need. Just—"
Wordlessly, Natsuki pulled him into a big embrace and buried her face in his chest. It was snug, tight, innocent, like a child expressing their love and affection towards a parent or loved one. Daisuke fell silent, and Natsuki, with her face pressed against him, could only feel his warmth and smell his fragrance, unable to guess what his reaction was at the moment. Footsteps echoed around them as people came and went alongside the restrooms, but Natsuki did not care anymore during that moment; her father, his shady friends, the bleakness of her room, the pain she had gone through, none of them mattered in those precious few seconds. It was the happiness that filled her, the realization that so much had changed and come her way—and the people as well, with Yuri and Naoki and their other friends—after she chose not to push Daisuke away during their first day at school, and partly because Daisuke also chose not to give up on her, and she could not thank him enough for that.
When Daisuke tried to speak again, he sounded even more nervous. "N-Natsuki?"
Natsuki could only breathe into his chest for a few seconds, her tears drying against his uniform. She could almost sense his heart beating within him, its perceived rhythm lulling her into that sense of security and joy that she often sought in him regardless of how much she would deny it during more sober, somber days. She clutched his jacket, digging her fingernails into the fabric.
When she finally chose to look up, her face was relatively dry at last, though still flushed with the sheer openness with which she embraced Daisuke so tightly, so fiercely. Daisuke, meanwhile, could only stare down at her, his face equally pink, his amber eyes filled with emotion. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if he wanted to say something but could not quite get it out.
"You don't have to apologize or anything. You did nothing wrong, doofus," she murmured to him, forestalling both his bewilderment and his attempt to speak. "I was just really, really happy. . ."
"H-Happy?" asked Daisuke.
"Yeah. For everything you've done. For showing me that I can do all this, and helping me see that everything's not as bad as I keep thinking it is. F-For giving me hope that everything can become better."
She took a deep breath, blinking back the fresh tears that were coming. "Ugh, this is gonna sound so cheesy, b-but . . . I'm really, really thankful that I met you."
Daisuke could only smile as he stared deep into her eyes, the emotions on his face rising to a feverous pitch. His hand trembling, he reached up and stroked her cheek. Natsuki drew in a sharp breath as his touch tickled her face, but she didn't shrink back from it. She felt his thumb run across the spots where her bruises had been, caressing them so softly. Becoming lost in emotion again, she could only vaguely notice that Daisuke's handsome face was inching closer to hers, her tears drying coolly against his warm breath. His eyes were so close, her face reflecting off of their amber sheen . . .
"What is this?!" a loud voice suddenly rang out.
Shocked out of her blissful reverie, Natsuki drew back in a flash. Daisuke did the same, jolting from his spot and looking around behind them wildly. Natsuki followed suit, expecting to see a student or two staring at the two of them with knowing gazes and grins, having witnessed the mushy moment that transpired—or almost transpired—between them, but there was no one there. Instead, the same voice that startled them had come from the neighboring restroom.
"Saké? Really? You guys are actually friggin' drinking in here?!"
"Hey, keep it down, Hinata! It's not like it was easy sneaking this whole bottle to school!" a second voice replied.
"And what're you so pissed about? It's not like we're gonna get caught—unless you keep yelling and shit!"
"It's not about getting caught and stuff, you idiots! Why didn't you tell me sooner?! I'm out there working my butt off with these flyers while wearing this and you're all just chillin' here with a bottle without me? Gimme some of that!"
At that, raucous laughter resonated from within the restroom, drowning out the erstwhile conflict within. Natsuki heaved a huge sigh of relief at the realization that she and Daisuke had just dodged a bullet of sorts. She turned back to him with an apologetic laugh.
"Idiots," she muttered, shaking her head. The afterglow of their brief moment had started fading away, and as she looked up at Daisuke's smiling face, she couldn't help but notice that there was a slightly disappointed look in his eyes. Natsuki could not blame him; the circumstances, so reminiscent of typical anime clichés, peeved her a bit in spite of her relief.
"A-Anyway, do you wanna go back now?" he asked, scratching his head. "The guys might be looking for us. . ."
"Oh! Y-Yeah, sure thing. . ." Natsuki replied. She wiped her face dry with her face mask once again before going to put it back on. However, she paused for a moment, thinking.
Without a word, she turned, stood on her toes, and gave Daisuke a kiss on the cheek.
Daisuke froze where he stood as Natsuki felt her lips touch his warm skin. And then, without waiting for his reaction, without waiting to realize if she had kissed him farther from or closer to his lips than she had expected, she put her face mask back on and raced back out to the open field, her heart racing at a million miles an hour all over again. Again, her mask saved her a lot of trouble as she smiled to herself, savoring the embarrassment brought by such a daring act in private. It was all worth it, she knew, and though she might never hear the end of it from Daisuke or from her own self once she was alone in her room to mull over it all over again, she could not care less with how ludicrously blissful it made her.
When Daisuke returned to the booths a few minutes after she did, their other classmates spoke up. "Whoa, what happened to you, man? You're red as heck!" one of them asked.
Natsuki locked eyes with him briefly as he looked over at her, turning red beneath her face mask as well. She smiled, and she could tell that Daisuke knew of the expression even if it was hidden.
"I-It's nothing," said Daisuke, his giddy tone an obvious contrast to the nature of his reply.
With mild amusement laced with a bit of resignation, Kenta found himself watching the open mic concert from the sidelines. In festivals past, he would often watch such performances up close with his classmates and friends, half-singing and half-shouting along with the bands and inspiring his peers to do the same. Still, the mood for merriment remained elusive, and in spite of the infectious excitement of the other students who were beginning to enjoy the vocal performances of their schoolmates onstage, Kenta saw no need to follow suit. Instead, he settled for a more silent approach, bobbing his head occasionally with the beats resonating from the speakers and mouthing any lyrics he knew in complete silence. And as he did so, he wondered why he had not chosen to go home yet—after all, the absence of one disheartened student seemed to be insignificant compared to the crowds around the open field. But Kenta still chose to stay, unmoving from his spot, looking back at merrier times and being only able to smile at their memory. The chocolate cupcake he had gotten from Class 3-D had been comforting, but after finishing it in four bites, that comfort soon faded away.
During a brief lull in the concert as a new band took to the stage, Kenta looked behind him and glanced up at the school's main building behind him. He had seen Monika walk back in earlier, most likely to oversee another meeting for her club as the nationals loomed closer for them. He had wanted to talk to her then, to at least find comfort in the conflict he was feeling by simply being with her, but seeing her surrounded by some of her fellow club members—and with Takeo following as well—had deflated his hopes further. And so, Kenta could only shake his head, tell himself to suck it up, and go find something else to do that was not as dreary as going home just to mope in his room alone. Daisuke and the others would object to his sadness, he knew, but given that they were busy one way or another, the prospect of asking them to go on an impromptu jaunt downtown after the day's end seemed distant.
"Look who it is! Yamaguchi!"
Kenta looked around. The call had not come from one of his classmates in 3-C or a friend from the other classes; instead, a group of four boys were headed towards him, the smiles on their faces presaging the negative intentions of bullies who had just spotted prey. Kenta eyed them all in silence—they were upperclassmen, judging from the patches on their blazers, and though he didn't personally know any of them, he could tell from the tone of their voices that he might have heard them jeering at him in the corridors before.
"Fancy seeing you here all alone, Yamaguchi," said the speaker, who was in the center of the group. "Your friends leave or something?"
Kenta closed his eyes; as frustrated as he felt, he was in no mood to pick fights. Instead, he directed all of his focus towards the concert, trying to drown out any insults or side comments that were coming. However, it did not help that the speaker reminded him slightly of Takeo Kimura, with his dark hair and that lazy, condescending look in his eyes.
"Look at all those monkeys on the stage," the upperclassman went on, gazing where Kenta was looking. "What say you teach them a thing or two about showing off, Yamaguchi?"
"I don't think so," Kenta muttered.
"Hey, come on, man," the tall one with sandy brown hair called out. "We're just having a bit of fun here! Besides, it doesn't seem like you're having too much fun yourself."
"Yeah, usually you're making a hell of a lot of noise," added another—a muscular one with a shaven head whom Kenta recognized as a member of the school's basketball varsity team. "What's stopping you from going nuts today?"
"Look, I'm not in the mood for any of this, alright?" Kenta said firmly. "Just leave me alone."
"Aw, man. You sound pretty upset," said the brown-haired one mockingly. He stood in front of Kenta, blocking his view of the concert. "What, did Monika run off again or something?"
Kenta felt his anger rise at that, but he could only ball his fists and fume in silence. The band on the stage were playing a loud guitar riff now, and he willed his ears to listen with all their might to it, but the seniors' voices seemed almost deafening by comparison. Students passed by, blissfully unaware of the conflict brewing. Kenta knew that he could not count of any of them to help or bail him out in case fists started flying—not that it was his only option at the moment, though listening to all the grating words and staring at the contemptuous smirks was starting to make him reconsider keeping his peace.
"What's the problem, Yamaguchi?" the upperclassman asked, his tone growing more serious. "You got something to say?"
"Not to a dolt like you," Kenta growled. A sneer crossed the senior's face, but as he opened his mouth to retort . . .
"There you are, Kenta!"
Kenta looked around, his eyes widening and his temper grinding to a screeching halt. Monika was walking towards him, all smiles and ever resplendent. He wondered for a moment why she was outside already, or why she was suddenly approaching him out of nowhere. The upperclassmen stood aside as she passed, scratching their heads as if they had not just been caught pestering and provoking Kenta, but Monika paid them no heed as she walked past them.
"I was looking everywhere for you," she said as she stopped in front of him. "Shall we go?"
"U-Uh . . ." Still surprised out of his wits, Kenta stood up involuntarily. "Go w-where?"
"Anywhere, silly." Monika beamed sweetly. "I'm sorry if I kept you waiting. The meeting just got done."
The upperclassman, who only moments before was standing so haughtily in front of Kenta, looked both nervous and embarrassed as he attempted to cut in. "H-Hello there, Monika!"
Monika glanced at him, as if it was the first time that she noticed him standing next to her and Kenta. "Hello there," she said with a polite smile, the kind a person would reserve for the most casual of encounters. Before the senior could say anything else, she turned back to Kenta, sidled up next to him and took his arm in hers. Kenta felt his face burn up.
"Come on," she told him cheerfully. "A date's a date, yes?"
"Y-Yeah, I guess," Kenta managed to say at last, giving her a sheepish grin. With that, Monika led him out of the lions' den, acting as if the upperclassmen were nothing more than mere signposts set up for the festival as they passed by. As Kenta dared to look back, he saw only flabbergasted looks and mutinous glares on his erstwhile adversaries' faces, and he could not stop himself from smiling rather triumphantly.
When the two of them had walked as far away from them as they could, Monika turned to him with a more serious look on her beautiful face. Kenta knew that her overly saccharine approach earlier was a way for her to brush aside the troublemakers and pay them back for their actions, but there was still that genuine aspect about the sweetness she showed him.
"Are you okay?" Monika asked, the concern in her tone causing Kenta to blush even more.
"I'm alright," he muttered. "I didn't know that you'd pop up out of nowhere like that."
"Well, I really was looking for you after our meeting, that part was true," said Monika earnestly. "That's when I saw those guys giving you trouble."
"So you heard everything they said?"
Monika nodded, a worried look crossing her eyes. "People can really be awful sometimes. I'm sorry."
"Hey, don't be. It's not like you were the one trying to pick a fight with good ol' me," said Kenta, attempting to work up some reassurance to ward off Monika's worries, but he only sagged inwardly when he remembered everything he had been thinking about earlier.
"I thought you'd be busy for a lot longer, though," he went on more quietly. "I mean, I saw you earlier and all when you guys were having a break."
"Oh, really?" asked Monika. "I don't think I spotted you, though."
"Yeah, I was with a few of my buddies. We were pretty far off from where you were," Kenta lied. "And even if you spotted me, I wouldn't wanna waste your break time before you went back for your next meeting."
"Oh, I see. Yes, I can already feel the tension rising for January, to be honest." Monika let out a tired sigh. "It's going to be really hectic for the next few weeks for everyone. I just hope no one snaps under the pressure."
"They won't. Not when they've got you as their leader," Kenta proffered.
Monika let out a short, genial laugh. "If only they knew how heavy their leader has it. . . But no, I shouldn't be saying these things. I should just keep a cool head and work through this. As long as I stay strong, everyone else will."
"That's the spirit," said Kenta. "And make sure you keep Wonder Boy Takeo under control before he goes all 'I'm-smart-so-obey-me' on you guys," he added with a bit of vehemence.
"Don't worry, I'll make sure of that," Monika assured him, smiling at his brief display of annoyance. "Besides, Takeo seems to be playing it cool. We talked for a bit earlier, and he told me that he was planning to get us all some nice accommodations at Tokyo for the competition."
So that's what you two were discussing when you were alone together, Kenta almost blurted out, right before he willed his mouth to slow down. "So he's gonna be booking you guys a hotel or something?" he asked instead.
"Yes. I mean, we were going to do that anyway once we've planned everything out, but Takeo's just gonna save us the trouble by securing everything for us. And then after that, he said that we can all go somewhere nice to unwind after the competition."
Kenta nodded, his mind mulling over the thoughts and keeping his inner turmoil at bay. He knew that Takeo may be trying to butter up Monika for something in his favor, given that he was as attracted to Monika as many boys were and was trying to both show off and make up for his past transgressions as an overbearing officer, but Kenta also knew that Monika would never reciprocate no matter what Takeo may attempt. It was with some small measure of comfort that he focused on that thought, knowing that the sight of Monika and Takeo sitting together had no underlying connotations. Still, the mere fact that Takeo could talk to Monika freely and make such plans with her made him feel jealous, and the knowledge that a model student like Takeo could easily win her mother's favor whilst he was being shooed off as a distraction was an unfair truth that left a bitter taste in his mouth.
A particularly loud song began booming around them as a band of sophomores took to the stage for the concert, their electric guitars screeching and their costumes standing out garishly as they played to the tune of heavy metal. Some students began flocking towards the stage to watch the performance, laughing and cheering at the audacious nature of the band, while some teachers who were present looked unsure as to whether they should ask the musicians and others after them to tone down their routine. Kenta and Monika looked on at them, with Monika laughing at how lively the band was playing. Kenta, on the other hand, snorted with private amusement. A bunch of monkeys going nuts on stage. Yeah, those dolts weren't wrong. I'd definitely fit up there.
Monika braced his arm, seemingly noticing his seriousness. "Kenta? Are you okay?" she asked him once again.
"Yeah," Kenta lied, ready with his fake smile. "I'm just hungry, that's all. I haven't eaten anything for lunch yet."
"Oh, why not? It's not good to skip meals like that, you know?" said Monika, pouting in that half-joking, half-stern manner that always made her seem even cuter in Kenta's eyes.
"Kinda got distracted with my buddies," Kenta replied, his laugh maintaining the smokescreen he was projecting. "I did eat a cupcake over at Daisuke's, though. They're handing them out to visitors who buy stuff from their class, I think."
Monika's eyes lit up. "Ooh, cupcakes? Really?"
"Yep, they're really good," said Kenta, feeling warmed by her reaction. "Do you wanna drop by and get one?"
"Well, we can, but don't you need to eat first? We can always go afterwards."
"Ah, I'm n-not . . ." Kenta balked momentarily as his stomach growled with hunger, as if in defiance against the lie that he almost uttered. "Well, is that gonna be okay with you?"
"Of course, silly!" replied Monika. "I'm going to wait for you, don't you worry about that. Do you want me to eat with you?"
"T-That's okay with me," said Kenta.
As the two of them wandered around the food bazaar, perusing which food to buy and eat, it was as if Koizumi Academy was another reality entirely. Kenta was still clashing against his unspoken, unwilling promise to Mrs. Steinbeck and his wish to stay with Monika not just for today but for all the other days to come. But now, walking through the people and being together as if they were simply on another date, the bleak truth seemed thousands of lightyears away. They were free to roam, free to do whatever they wanted, free to enjoy the hours of the festival away from the conflicts that plagued them outside the school. Kenta heard the whispers and felt the stares, no doubt coming from students who knew Monika as one of the most popular girls in the school and were wondering how she ended up with an upstart like him, but Monika paid them no heed.
Daisuke looked rather breathless for some reason when the two of them dropped by Class 3-D's booths. Some of his classmates perked up at the sight of Monika, exclaiming excited greetings as if she was a celebrity of sorts. Monika responded with warm hellos of her own. Daisuke, on the other hand, zeroed in on Kenta first.
"We don't give out second helpings, man," he joked as he approached the booth.
"I'm not asking for any, you dolt," Kenta quipped as he ate some takoyaki, spearing at them with a small plastic fork. "Monika wanted to stop by."
"Hello there, Daisuke!" Monika hailed with a smile as soon as she was done greeting his classmates. "I heard there were cupcakes here?"
"Yep! Good thing you dropped by while there are still some," said Daisuke in reply, grinning back. "They're running out faster than our DIY stuff over there, to be honest."
At that moment, Natsuki showed up as well, popping up from behind the booths. "Oh, h-hey there," she muttered, raising her hand in greeting as she spotted them.
"Hello, Natsuki," Monika greeted back cordially, her smile now tinged with a bit of sisterly concern; Kenta had forgotten that she also knew about Natsuki's home situation. Thankfully, Natsuki did not seem to notice anything.
"Anyway, the same deal I told Kenta still stands," Daisuke stated. "Pop six balloons, you get two cupcakes!"
"Oh, really?" said Monika, glancing at their balloon pop display. She paused for a moment, thinking. "Alright, count me in."
"Wait, you're gonna try?" asked Kenta, surprised.
"Why not? I like a bit of a challenge," said Monika eagerly. "If I win, I'll give the other cupcake to you. If I don't, well . . . we can always share one, hmm?"
Kenta coughed, almost choking on his takoyaki as an unbidden mental image of him and Monika eating a single cupcake romantically together popped up in his mind. "W-Well, that sounds nice," he stammered, swallowing both food and air to ease his throat.
With that, Monika winked at him before advancing to the balloon pop display with Daisuke's supervision, a determined gleam shining in her emerald eyes. As he watched her go, Kenta noticed Natsuki looking at him from the sidelines. He smiled rather sheepishly at her.
"Your face and your hair are almost the same color right about now," she said in an amused tone.
In the end, amid the cheers and surprised delight of Class 3-D's booth attendants, Monika managed to pop six for six. Kenta smiled as he stood by watching, feeling slightly relieved that she would not be forced to share a single cupcake with him. Daisuke, who seemed to have noticed his relief, poked a bit more fun at him as he gave Monika her cupcakes.
"Kenta was hoping you'd miss that last one so you'd have to share," he said jokingly.
"I didn't say anything like that, you dolt!" Kenta shot back, while Natsuki let out a short laugh.
Monika looked at him, beaming as she handed him an orange cream cupcake. "Yeah, I was hoping for that myself," she said. Daisuke laughed out loud, both at the look on Kenta's face and the staggering implications of Monika's own quip. Kenta, meanwhile, felt the heat from his face escalate further. Though he sensed that she was simply playing along with the jest, the fact that Monika's cheeks turned slightly pink told him something more.
After the brief but lighthearted visit and exchange at 3-D's side of the festival, the two of them looked for a quieter spot to retreat to, a task that seemed impossible considering just how crowded the school was at this point. Not wanting to make it appear that he was being too quiet out of his worry, Kenta kept striking up some idle talk as he walked with Monika. The stares returned, coupled with a few instances wherein many girls and a few boys were starting to whisper to one another openly at the sight of them together. Nevertheless, nothing much changed in Monika's way of dealing with such experiences, though she did openly greet a few of her friends from other classes and introduced Kenta to them. As he listened to the titters and excited questions that came his way and Monika's as well, Kenta's appreciation for Monika only kept growing. The mere fact that she was so open in letting the world know who he was for her, the fact that she was not reluctant or keeping her distance lest the two of them look too much like an actual couple, it was all a testament to the resolute, carefree demeanor that he had always found attractive in her.
And yet, beneath all this bliss, Monika was still unaware of the true extent of her mother's opinions towards him and their relationship, and Kenta wondered just what else would change once Monika found out for herself exactly what it was that her mother had said to him in front of the Cocoa Connection on that particular evening.
Miraculously, a vacant stone bench close to the faculty area provided them with an island of solitude amidst the perennial hubbub of the festival and the students around them. Monika quickly ran towards it and sat down before any other students could take it from them.
"See? I told you we'd find a nice little spot soon enough," she told him with a wink as he sat down next to her.
"Yeah, I'll take it," said Kenta, feeling relieved as he stretched his legs for a bit. "A-Anyway, do you want some of this yakisoba?"
"Oh, no need, thank you. I'm still pretty full from what I ate earlier," said Monika lightly. "But I did save some room for dessert!"
She held up the strawberry cream cupcake she had won, sniffing it a little before taking a small bite. "Oh, wow," she muttered as she chewed, her eyes lighting up. "This is really delicious."
"Yep, Natsuki bakes a mean batch," said Kenta with a chuckle.
"Wait, Natsuki was the one who made this?" asked Monika, aghast. "I didn't know she could bake!"
"Yeah, it got me pretty good too. It's what Daisuke convinced her to do for the festival."
"I see. . . That's really nice to hear." Monika took another bite of her cupcake, exhaling with delight as she savored its taste. "I wouldn't mind having one of these every day for dessert."
"I know, right?" Eyeing his own orange cream cupcake, Kenta bit into it and closed his eyes, relishing the mixture of zest and creamy goodness it gave him.
Suddenly, something soft and gentle brushed against the corner of his lips. He drew back and opened his eyes, and was startled to see Monika's fingers brushing against his face.
"You've got some cream over there," she muttered, tutting.
"Oh, t-thanks," Kenta stammered, laughing shakily as Monika's touch tickled his cheek slightly. It felt rather embarrassing that she had to clean up after him in such a manner, and with other people around as well, but as she had been doing for the past half-hour with him, Monika simply carried on and stuck with him as if they were the only two people in the world at the moment. With a smile, she withdrew her hand, her index finger now stained with a bit of orange cream. Kenta expected her to wipe it down somewhere, but his initial surprise returned with redoubled force as Monika licked the cream from her finger.
Kenta stopped chewing, his mind racing at a thousand miles an hour at the implications. It was a very intimate gesture, highly unexpected, the closest thing to an indirect kiss that he had ever seen or will ever experience—and it was only when Monika's eyes widened in shock as well that he realized she had done so without thinking. She looked back at him, her fingertip still in her mouth, the realization dawning on her in the same way color suffused her cheeks. Kenta swallowed his mouthful of cupcake with difficulty, knowing that his face had once again taken after the shade of his hair.
Slowly, wanting to break the ice and still coming up short due to her visible embarrassment, Monika began to laugh. There were very few moments when her formally cordial demeanor was pierced by something as full of levity as a schoolgirl's giggle, and as he began to laugh with her, Kenta knew that this moment was definitely one of them. Soon, the sound of their laughter rang out against the din of the festival, free and true. All ills were temporarily forgotten, whether they were the admonitions of an overbearing parent, the demands of one's duties or the snide musings of insecure and jealous observers. And in that brief but lighthearted exchange of youthful romance, amid the strong desire to be with each other in defiance against more somber realities, the world felt just as comforting and reassuring as the sweet and fluffy taste of an expertly baked cupcake during a time of festive liberty.
A/N: Welp, still alive. Holy crap, what a doozy!
Major apologies for dropping off the radar yet again, this time for almost three months. The holiday months generally tend to be a busy time of the year, and then January just picked up with work and other stuff immediately afterwards, so there's just no rest for the wicked. To cap it all off, I needed to plan and write these last two chapters (and at such a critical junction in the story too) as perfectly as I could with what little free time I can get, so you can hopefully see why it took so long. To give you an idea, what you just read is equal to FOUR normal chapters, or sixty pages in MS Word.
Nevertheless, I'm glad that I managed to nail everything down eventually, and I hope that you enjoyed reading it all. I'm gonna say it this early: I have no idea if the next chapter will be delayed for a similar time, or if it'll turn up a lot sooner. What I can promise, though, is that I won't stop planning and writing as I always do after an upload. As I always say, it's my goal to keep delivering with this fic, and I'll do everything I can to make sure I do just that. Again, to everyone who read this and has left reviews or messages of support, I cannot thank you enough for giving me the strength and determination to keep doing this. This is for you. You guys are all awesome.
Anyway, that's that. See you in the next one. Take care of yourselves, guys, and have a good one. Cheers!