CHAPTER SIXTY – COME WHAT MAY

Yuri heaved a sigh as she sat down at the foot of her bed. The ache in her back pressed against her dully as she struggled to take off her uniform's white inner shirt. The walk home from the grocery store had not been easy, but it was a necessity given how much it meant to buy the groceries for her grandmother instead of having them delivered to their house for an extra fee. The request had been an unspoken one, and one that Yuri was more than ready to accept when her grandmother had opened it up at breakfast earlier. Such a setup was not out of place in their household, with Yuri fulfilling what chores she could during the hours she was at home, but there were things that she noticed that began tugging at her thoughts bit by bit.

Her bedroom's cold air caressed her skin startlingly as she removed her undershirt, making her back ache some more. Ponderously, Yuri reached for the bottle of menthol oil that she had readied just for this moment and others like it, pouring a generous amount on her palms and savoring the different kind of coolness it soon gave off as it dried on her skin. Gingerly, she placed the bottle on the floor, reached around her back, and began massaging her skin around her spine, alternating between her hands, careful to avoid the underwire of her bra as she went. Her shoulders came next, harder to reach but worth the effort, and soon her entire back seemed afire with the menthol oil's chill.

She permitted herself to smile a little. Such was the toll one had to endure with having a literal weight on one's chest, she knew, especially for someone who liked to read slightly hunched over her books, unmindful of the toll that poor posture had until it was too late. The strain made physical errands at home and P.E. classes at school even more taxing, physically as well as mentally given how self-conscious it made her feel as well. But the overwhelming sensation of being able to read, rest and sleep at the end of it all made it much more satisfying, just like how the strain was a worthy tradeoff compared to the time she got to spend reading with Naoki. As Yuri finished massaging the menthol oil on her back and shoulders, she put on the yellow long-sleeved shirt she had prepared and changed out of her skirt as well into a pair of black leggings. Her aches would soon recede, she knew, but now that they were taken care of, her mind returned to the matters that have been nudging at her concern.

She glanced over at the hallway, towards the general direction of where her grandmother was downstairs. As the afternoon passed, she had given herself more time to think on things, managing to form an explanation in her head. Every year, winter took its toll on most people, and her grandmother's frail health was always one of the hardest hit. No doubt her joints and muscles grew sorer the colder the weather became, and it fell to Yuri to make sure she was always kept warm with some hot tea and fresh clothing. But the way her grandmother seemed to move even slower and took more time resting in between chores had started to make her worry. Once, she even left it to her to finish cooking dinner for the two of them, and while she said nothing about the reason why and even tried to reassure her with a smile, Yuri noticed a tinge of exhaustion beneath her eyes then. Even so, Yuri knew that she would be able to keep these thoughts in check . . . until the incident at breakfast earlier, that is.

Maybe Grandmother did just drop her teacup by accident earlier, she told herself. Even so, she saw just how much her grandmother's hand had been trembling earlier at breakfast, and how a look of pain had crossed her aged face then. Bent over a little from where she sat, she had let go of her teacup, bringing their breakfast to a startling halt. Yuri had wanted to reach out, to ask if her grandmother was okay, but the pain was gone in an instant, and her grandmother sat up straight again to reassure her with her smiles and words. The mess was cleaned up, and the incident was brushed off as a simple accident, but long after Yuri had arrived at school and sat down in class with Naoki, her assumptions had taken a more serious, sobering turn.

Quietly, she left her room and went back downstairs. The smell of ginger and garlic mingled in the air, enhancing the feeling of rustic warmth around the house. Her grandmother had requested some smoked eel to go with it, sparking Yuri's appetite in further anticipation for the meal. Between all the meals she had cooked with her grandmother in the house, smoked eel was always one of her favorite ingredients in them, whether they sat on a bed of freshly cooked rice or eaten alongside a heartening bowl of okayu. The thought of it comforted Yuri for a moment, though her chief concern lingered in her mind as she made her way to the kitchen.

Her grandmother looked the same as ever as she tended to two pots on the nearby stove. She looked around as she heard her enter the kitchen. "Ah, perfect timing, Granddaughter," she said lightly. "I'm just starting to prepare the broth. Can you please tend to the rice over there? You know the drill."

"Yes, Grandmother," said Yuri dutifully, walking over to the nearby sink where the rice sat in a small bowl. As she turned on the sink's faucet and began washing the rice under the cold water, she snuck a glance at her grandmother. Apart from the occasional spasm in her wrinkled hands, nothing seemed out of the ordinary this time. Yuri was secretly glad that the duty of washing rice always fell to her; she did not want to know what kind of painful discomfort the sharp chill of cold tap water would have on her grandmother's hands.

"I forgot to tell you, Grandmother, they didn't have some of the pickled radish you wanted," she said as she sifted through the cold, watery rice with her fingers. "I did get some pickled cabbage, though."

"That will do just fine, child," replied her grandmother. "Smoked fish always goes well with any pickled vegetable. Could you hand me that ladle over there?"

Yuri set aside the rice for a moment and took the aforementioned ladle from a nearby rack. "You also mentioned an eel recipe you wanted to try."

"Ah, yes. I only just remembered it when I was looking through my notebook of old recipes," said her grandmother as she took the ladle from her. "It was a favorite of your father's."

"Really? What was it?"

"Unagi chazuke." Her grandmother tittered genially, as if the dish's name brought back delightful memories indeed. "Have you heard of it?"

"'Chazuke?' With tea?"

"Yes. You might be surprised how well tea works in a dish like that. Mix up some dashi and konbucha, and pour it on the rice, eel and vegetables. Perfect for today's cold season, don't you think?"

Yuri stared on in wonder. "It definitely sounds like an interesting dish," she remarked, walking over to the stove and setting down the washed rice next to it. The steam rising from the broth on the stove cast some comforting warmth at her face, infused with the faint smell of ginger and garlic from earlier.

"It's more than that, especially once you get to try it for yourself," said her grandmother, taking the bowl of rice and emptying its contents in the pot of boiling water next to the broth. "Works best when you make your own dashi and tea, of course. Why I never thought of cooking it for you is beyond me. Then again, it's easier to forget these things when you're as old as I am."

She said the words with a genial air, as old people often did when they recognized how feeble they were getting as the years drew on, but Yuri could easily see the sad truth behind such a statement. Her back still ached from earlier, but that was a far cry from the tremors, joint pains and fatigue her grandmother was enduring at her advanced age at this point. It had been the same case for her grandfather, though she had been too young to understand then the heavy reality that came with watching loved ones slowly give in to old age. She wondered with trepidation for a moment how her grandmother fared while she was at school, and whether there were things that she was not telling her.

"Something troubling you, Granddaughter?"

Yuri looked around to see her grandmother beseeching her closely with her pale purple eyes. She straightened herself up, not wanting to make her anxiety too obvious, and said tentatively, "I was just . . . thinking of a few things, Grandmother. T-That's all."

The knowing gleam in her grandmother's eyes told her just how much she believed her answer. "I've known you ever since you were a baby, Granddaughter," she said warmly. "I know when you've got something on your mind. You're still thinking about earlier, is that it?"

Startled at her grandmother's accurate guess, Yuri grasped for the right words to say in return, wondering if such clairvoyant insight was something all grandparents had. Her grandmother, on the other hand, forestalled her as she stirred the rice on the stove. "I understand what you might be thinking of right now, about how old I'm getting and all," she told her. "Well, you can hide the number all you want, but you'll never be able to hide the white hair and wrinkles and liver spots, or the fact that sweeping the yard and doing the laundry take up twice the time now. That's what I always tell my friends. Best to just come to terms with them while you can. You'll only age faster if you worry about them too much, and then you'll really start forgetting things."

She laughed at that, shaking her head as she covered the rice with a lid. Yuri hung back for a moment, marveling at her grandmother's carefree approach to the thought of growing older and grayer. She remembered her grandfather and wondered if he had come to terms with it the same way her grandmother was doing now.

"Even at your age, you still remember a great deal, Grandmother. And you're still capable of doing just as many things as well." Even as she said her words in an earnest tone, Yuri had to wonder whether she uttered them to reassure her grandmother or herself.

Her grandmother laughed again. "Now I remember your father even more after you said that. Always worried about my age, about what I may be feeling, and all that. I say . . . come what may. It'll come along in the end, after all. What really matters is what happens along the way and what you choose to make of it. That's what life has always been about."

She smiled at Yuri, who could not help but smile back nervously. The unspoken sentiment beneath her words hung between them now. She knows as much as I think. But though it did little to put her thoughts at ease, her grandmother's warmth was always comforting, and it would simply not do to foist her worries upon her and damper her spirit in the process.

"Now, that's enough of that," her grandmother went on, tapping at the countertop with her ladle. "There'll be plenty of time for talk once we've got this meal taken care of. If you will, Granddaughter, you can start preparing the tea now."

"Oh, yes, o-of course!" Yuri inclined her head and went back to her post. At the back of her mind, her worries scratched at her like another scuttering raccoon, but for as long as there were still years and dinnertimes to be had with her grandmother, it felt as if all would be well.

Lunchtime at school became a quiet affair the following day, as Naoki went off to attend a small meeting with his groupmates for their Social Studies presentation. Yuri made her way to their customary spot at the school's rooftop alone, The Portrait of Markov clutched to her chest as always. This time, however, their reading session for the day was still up for debate; though she and Naoki were close to finishing the book once and for all, they had forestalled their reading of the final chapters in favor of discussing a somber development.

Even as she was still engrossed in her own worries about her grandmother, Yuri had been caught off guard as Naoki confided in her earlier the passing of his mother's friend. Tsuru Kobayashi. That was her name, she recalled as she reached the remembered the day she and Naoki had come to the hospital together on different errands, and what he had shared to her about his mother's friend and her suicide attempt. Though the topic had been swept aside as she and Naoki discussed her own self-harm issues, Yuri recalled the shock she had felt when she had first heard about Tsuru Kobayashi from him. But that was nothing compared to the jolt she felt when Naoki told her earlier that morning about what had transpired later on that sad day, when the Kobayashi family decided to pull the plug on Tsuru's life support. She did not know Tsuru personally, that much was true, but Yuri was deeply saddened by the news nonetheless. Apart from knowing that she was a family friend of the Nakajimas, Yuri knew that one could not help but sympathize with someone who had gone through such an ordeal. Naoki had ended his story recounting to her how he had accompanied his mother to Tsuru's funeral two days past, his recollections making her remember her grandfather's funeral more than a decade ago.

Yuri was still deep in thought when a familiar glimpse of bright pink drifted by the corner of her eye. She looked around to see Natsuki huddled in her usual corner on the rooftop, eating idly from the bento box next to her as she focused on a manga book. Instinctively, Yuri stopped in her tracks, as if the sight of a familiar face was a welcome source of respite from the heavy nature of her thoughts. She looked around for a moment, wondering if Daisuke would show up at any moment to accompany her. When she failed to see him anywhere, she walked over to Natsuki.

"H-Hello," she called out.

Natsuki looked up from her manga, her eyebrows rising in surprise when she saw that it was her. Yuri noticed that she was no longer wearing a face mask, and the bruise at the corner of her right eye had completely healed up.

Natsuki swallowed her mouthful of food and nodded back at her in greeting. "Alone again, huh?" she asked her.

"I'm afraid so," said Yuri with a nervous smile. "How about you?"

Natsuki shook her head. "Daisuke went down to get some drinks."

"Oh, I see. . ." Yuri glanced around the rooftop again briefly. "Okay, I'll j-just, um . . ."

"You can hang out with us if you want."

The words were out from Natsuki's lips before Yuri could even formulate her reply properly. Natsuki looked at her rather expectantly, as if waiting for her immediate answer. Yuri fidgeted for a moment with her copy of Markov, feeling rather ill at ease. Then again, Naoki wouldn't be back from his meeting for a little while longer, she knew, and having company seemed better than trying to read alone with thoughts of her grandmother and Tsuru Kobayashi flitting in and out of her brain.

"I . . . Well . . . Would that b-be fine with you and Daisuke?" she asked.

Natsuki nodded. "I'm sure Daisuke's cool with it. Are you?"

"Y-Yes," replied Yuri, smiling again. "Thank you."

"No prob." With that, Natsuki turned back to her manga and continued eating. Yuri walked over nervously and sat down on a spot away from her, making sure to leave some space for Daisuke when he returned. She opened her copy of Markov, thumbed a page at random and bunkered down to read. It did not take long, however, before Yuri found it to be a futile task. The figurative raccoon from last night had returned, scampering through her thoughts, interrupting her attempts to read. Try as she might, the elusive critter was difficult to curb on the spot, bringing with it the sounds of a teacup shattering on the floor and a life support system shutting down for good.

She looked up to see Natsuki observing her rather closely. The pink-haired girl drew back for a moment, as if she had been caught off guard with a splash of cold water to the face. Awkwardly, she retreated to her own manga book and resumed eating, chewing her food with renewed intensity as if nothing happened. Even so, Yuri noticed that she seemed to be glancing at her still from out of the corners of her vivid pink eyes.

"I-Is something wrong?" Yuri asked her.

Natsuki stiffened where she sat, slowing down her chewing as she closed her manga book. Swallowing her mouthful of food, she looked fully upon her now, as if she didn't want to seem rude enough to keep hiding her obvious stares.

"I was just wondering if . . . if we could talk about stuff, that's all," Natsuki admitted after a brief moment of silence. "It was starting to get too quiet."

"Oh." Yuri closed her own book and placed it on her lap, sitting up straighter as well. "That's okay with me. I was unable to focus on my reading anyway."

"Rough day?" asked Natsuki.

"Not r-really," said Yuri. "Just a few worries, that's all."

Nodding, Natsuki looked around the rooftop for a moment, watching the other students eating lunch and talking to one another. Yuri mimicked her gaze in silence, waiting with a bit apprehension for her to inquire about what exactly her worries were in an effort to keep their conversation going, but the question never came. Instead, Natsuki's next statement surprised her all over again.

"I wrote a poem last week."

She attempted to smile as Yuri looked around in astonishment at her, though she could not quite hide the tenseness that was gripping her youthful features. Yuri remembered then what the two of them had talked about at the festival, along with her on-the-spot haiku and Natsuki's admitted interest in writing poetry. Her brain seemed to cling to the thought instantly, as if seeking reprieve involuntarily from the bleaker and more portentous thoughts she had.

"I told you I'd try it out eventually," Natsuki went on. "It wasn't as easy as people think it is, and definitely not as easy as you made it seem back at the festival."

"Yes, it d-does have its tricky parts, right?" Yuri affirmed, grateful that she found some words to say in return even as her surprise lingered. "Hopefully, you did well."

Natsuki let out a short laugh at that. "As well as you did? I don't know if I can say that. I mean, I did write . . . something like a poem, at least. But since I'm the only one who's ever gotten to read it, I don't think I can say for sure if it turned out good, or if it's just plain garbage."

Yuri felt bewildered by her sudden, harsh self-criticism. "I don't think it should be dismissed as 'garbage' right off the bat, though," she told Natsuki. "I mean, h-how can you say so if no one else has read it yet?"

"So I have to wait for someone else to say it's garbage?" asked Natsuki in that characteristically blunt manner of hers.

"Ah, n-not really!" said Yuri, fearing that she might be saying things the wrong way. "It's just that . . . what we might think is inadequate for us may turn out to be excellent for others. J-Just because we think that our work falls short of a certain standard doesn't mean it's already something equal to garbage, right?"

Natsuki grimaced. "Well, that'd be easy for you to say. You're already good at it."

"But I wasn't good at it b-before," Yuri countered. "These kinds of things always take practice. The first attempt d-doesn't always come out the way it should. Is it subpar? Perhaps. Is it outright garbage? I don't think so."

"Subpar but not garbage?" Natsuki frowned. "How the heck does that work?"

"Just because something fails to reach a certain standard that we set to it doesn't mean it's already considered akin to trash," said Yuri earnestly. "As long as you took the time and effort to make it, it's worth something, especially if it's your first step towards a new field you wish to try out."

Natsuki stared at her for a moment, digesting her words in silence, as if she was looking for something to argue against. Evidently, however, she found nothing of the sort as she let out a sigh. "I guess you're right about that," she muttered. "And you'd think I would know that better by now after all my experiences in baking. . ."

Yuri smiled. "It happens with everyone, I suppose. N-Now then, did you want to share the poem to me o-or . . . ?"

At that, Natsuki tensed up again, sitting up ramrod straight as she braced her hands together. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying and failing to utter a reply, her face slowly reddening. Yuri watched her, curiously at first, and then with growing trepidation as she realized that she may have inadvertently put her on the spot.

"I'm sorry, it might've been too much for me to ask," she said, hoping it would Natsuki's obvious discomfiture. "I just assumed that, um . . . p-perhaps you had considered showing your work t-to someone, that's all."

"No, it's fine," Natsuki said, waving her hand dismissively. "T-To be honest with you, I . . . I did think about doing that. For a while, I considered showing it to Daisuke, but . . ."

When she fell silent again, Yuri leaned forward, feeling both curious and concerned. "But . . . ?"

Natsuki let out another sigh. "Well, I figured that you would be a better choice to read it first."

Yuri found herself at a loss for words as she gazed upon Natsuki. The admission seemed more profound than she had wanted to believe, and she felt her curiosity blotting out her anxiety, prompting her to scoot a little closer to Natsuki.

"M-May I ask why?" she asked reluctantly.

Natsuki looked at her with a frown. "Why? You're a really good writer, that's why!" she replied, as if it was that obvious of an answer. "If I'm gonna have someone critique my poem, I'd rather have it done by s-someone who knows a lot about this kind of thing. You actually write poems as a hobby, so you know this kind of stuff more than anyone I know right now. I can tell when I hear you talk about it."

"But . . . w-what about Daisuke?" Yuri asked her, feeling her heartbeat rising with dread. "Perhaps he knows a few things about poetry as well, given how he's also an avid reader like you."

Natsuki bit her lip. "W-Well, I'm not trying to imply that Daisuke's a dunce or anything, of course," she replied nervously. "It's just that . . . I think you'd be able to give a more honest take on this. I trust Daisuke, but I don't want him to say it's good even if it's not, just to make me feel better about it. At least with you, I'll be able to have a more neutral opinion . . . right?"

Yuri could only nod in silence for a moment, feeling apprehensive at the thought of being chosen like this. It was a prospect that seemed even more difficult to address compared to the time she had shared her poem and bared her feelings to Naoki. Natsuki, unmindful of her thoughts, stared at her with utter seriousness and determination as she waited for her response. As the seconds ticked by, Yuri knew that her time to make a decision was running out, and a bit of hope tugged at her as she knew that Natsuki may eventually call the offer off if she took too long. But as much as Yuri wanted to wait for such a thing to happen, and as much as she wanted tell Natsuki to find someone better to critique her poem, a part of her felt flattered and even touched at how much Natsuki seemed to trust her on this. And the fact that she had talked to her first about the prospect told Yuri a lot, just like the openness she had shown to her at the festival.

Her resolve fighting against her anxiety, she said, "Okay, I'll d-do it."

From the way Natsuki raised her eyebrows now in surprise, Yuri wondered if she had been expecting her to answer in the negative from the get-go. Whatever the case was, though, the die had been cast, and she watched as Natsuki reached towards the manga book she had been reading. Opening it on a certain page, she pulled out a small sheet of pink stationery paper.

"I've been keeping it here ever since I finished writing it," Natsuki explained to her. "Just thought that it'd be a safe place to keep it, and if I ended up s-showing it to you, at least it'd be easily at hand."

"I see," said Yuri, observing the lines on the paper from where she sat and noticing how they seemed shorter than most poetry stanzas. Natsuki scooted over and handed the paper to her now. She drew back with catlike speed as soon as Yuri took it from her hand and turned away. Taking that as a sign that she should begin reading, Yuri glanced down upon the sheet, hoping inwardly that she would not disappoint with her critique.

"Monkeys can climb

Crickets can leap

Horses can race

Owls can seek

Cheetahs can run

Eagles can fly

People can try

But that's about it."

Given the shortness of the poem in general, Yuri found herself going back and forth with it in no time, feeling the words cross her lips, analyzing them in the same way that she would analyze any other poem that crossed her sight. Even so, it was an odd piece in general, very different from the poems she had read and written before. The complete lack of nuanced words and colored thoughts made her wonder what she should actually be looking for. So far, the only part of the poem that invoked the most thought was its abrupt ending. Yuri focused her eyes upon it more than anything else, trying to imagine what—

"A-Are you done yet?"

Yuri blinked, feeling utterly startled as Natsuki's voice brought her back down to earth in an instant. "Y-Yes!" she replied hastily, setting the poem down and glancing over at Natsuki's expectant expression. "I'm sorry. I think I spent t-too much time reading there. . ."

Natsuki sighed. "So it's that bad, huh?"

"Ah, not at all!" Yuri exclaimed, recoiling almost immediately as she realized that she had raised her voice somewhat. Thankfully, none of the other students seemed to notice, though Natsuki looked startled and even confused by her discomfiture. She's the one being critiqued, and yet I'm the one panicking. Putting her brakes on full blast, Yuri paused for a moment, making sure that none of her next words would be influenced by her growing trepidation. "I just need to word my response p-properly, if you don't mind."

"Oh, yeah, s-sure thing," said Natsuki.

Smiling with nervous gratitude, Yuri looked away for a moment, inhaling and exhaling quietly in an effort to nail down her thoughts and ease her heartbeat a little. Again, she perused the poem, this time taking on a more analytical air like she was critiquing an artist's work, nothing more, nothing less.

"So this is your first time writing a poem, y-yes?" she asked Natsuki for starters.

"Yeah, in the official sense, I guess," replied Natsuki. "Why?"

Yuri nodded. "It's just that there are specific writing habits that are usually typical of new writers," she explained, secretly glad that her voice was starting to grow steadier. "Having been through that myself, I kind of learned to pick up on them, and one of the most noticeable things I recognize in new writers is how they try to make their style very deliberate. They try to pick a writing style different from the topic matter, and they form-fit the two together. The end result is that both the style and the expressiveness are weakened.

"But of course, anyone could hardly be blamed for something like that. There are so many skills that go into writing even a simple poem—not just finding and building them, but also getting them to work together is probably the most challenging part. It might take you some time, but it all comes with constant practice, and learning by example, and trying out new things too."

As she listened to her feedback, Natsuki eyed her own poem with a perplexed look. "How can you say that I wrote my poem differently from the topic I used, though?" she asked Yuri. "I mean, I think I managed to drive the point across. . ."

"I see. . . Um, would you mind explaining what you were trying to go for?" asked Yuri, sensing that she should have asked this first.

"W-Well . . ." Natsuki sat up straighter as she tried to piece together her words. "The thing is that I wanted to add a bit of wordplay into this poem by giving it a rhyme scheme, a-and then you've got the syllables going and all for the flow. But at the end, I made it fall flat on purpose to drive the meaning home."

"Ah, I understand," said Yuri. "Wordplay and nuances like that does make for some extra flavor in a poem, but it wouldn't hurt to add more words to help with that. Sometimes, the wordplay doesn't always come in the form of cheekiness or double entendres, but in the smooth flow of words that have been masterfully crafted and pieced together."

Natsuki grimaced. "Personally, I don't see it that way. Short, simple words can work just as well as those fancy ones. If the message comes across regardless, it doesn't matter if you make it sound fancy or not. Why not just keep it simple, right?"

Again, Yuri nodded as she continued to listen. Though she disagreed privately with Natsuki's stance about using only simple words to convey a plethora of meanings in one's poems, she did not want to ruin her first poem-making experience by starting a full-fledged debate on the dos and don'ts of poetry. Instead, she decided to shift gears.

"T-Then how about your theme?" she asked Natsuki now with a smile. "I haven't quite interpreted it yet, since I went for its composition first. If you don't mind, I'd like to hear about the message you put into it, and then we can compare ideas."

"Oh, right. Well, it's about . . ." Natsuki looked away for a moment, and Yuri noticed how her vividly pink eyes seemed to look even sadder now.

"I-It's about giving up."

Yuri drew back, feeling completely startled. "Giving up . . . ?" she repeated, wondering what exactly Natsuki was trying to convey.

"Yeah," Natsuki intoned, her piercingly pink eyes taking on a somber look indeed. "I wanted to go with something that hit a little close to home, y'know? But writing about manga or baking didn't quite cut it, so I decided to dig a little deeper."

"I see. . ." Yuri still felt unsure of what to say. "W-What is its context of 'giving up,' then?"

Natsuki cast her gaze downwards for a moment, her brow furrowed in somber thought. "Do you know that feeling where you always see how people are doing a lot better than you in anything? I mean, whether it's in school or outside, whether it concerns an activity or sport or a competition. You see all these people excelling in these things, while you're just . . . there. You're doing what you can, you're trying to give it your best shot, and yet you never really get as far and high as those people do."

Yuri felt like she was starting to understand. "Is that how you feel?"

Sighing, Natsuki looked up, her gaze hinting at untold burdens. "I've had my moments. Like for example, when I was writing this poem officially for the first time, I wanted it to be good. I wanted it to sound like how an actual poet would make it. But every time I tried to put in a line that I thought felt inspired and good, it'd just fall apart, and I'll just end up scratching the line out and replacing it with something else. That'd just keep happening over and over. In the end, I never got anywhere. It was just so frustrating, that feeling that I'd never be good enough to do this, that I'd never turn in something that fits my standards. And it made me remember my other experiences too—not quite reaching the grade I wanted for an exam, not doing enough to help my teammates win in P.E., that kind of stuff. All the while, you see others being happy that they got good grades, or winners celebrating that their hard work won them a game, while you're just sitting there wondering if it was even worth it to try. Remembering all this stuff, I figured that it'd be worthwhile to put it in poem form, even with how much it bummed me out. At least, if it failed and ended up like garbage, it would have made a perfect example to go with my poem's message, right?"

Yuri nodded, her words failing her at every turn. As the highly personal nature of the poem slowly revealed itself to her through Natsuki's words, she found herself wondering if she could even add anything or make a remark without seeming intrusive or careless.

"But then . . . you said some stuff earlier that changed my mind a bit," Natsuki suddenly continued. Yuri looked around in surprise and saw that her pink gaze was resting upon her with an air of appreciation.

"W-What was it that I said?" Yuri asked her.

"That just because something doesn't meet the standard we set, it doesn't mean that it's garbage," Natsuki replied. "I-It kinda serves as the opposite of what my poem conveyed, right? That there is a point in trying, that in spite of falling short of something for the nth time, it doesn't take away from the attempt itself, and the effort that you put in it. It made me realize other things too. L-Like for example, when I first started baking, my first batch of cupcakes just all sank in on themselves. As mad as I was at myself for failing, I wanted to do better, to make the entire effort worth it, and I guess I used that thought unconsciously to keep trying until I finally got it right. If I just gave up from the start just because things didn't go my way, like I almost did when I wrote that poem, I wouldn't have learned how to bake."

She smiled, and Yuri could not help but feel warmed by her expression. "The festival would have been a little less excellent if you weren't there to bake cupcakes for it," she found herself saying to her.

Natsuki blushed. "You really think my cupcakes were all that?"

"O-Of course!" Yuri managed to smile back now. "And I look forward to the next time that you make some more again, f-for all of us."

Natsuki shrugged. "Some of my classmates want me to try for our Christmas break party after the exams. You think it'll be worth a shot?"

"It still depends on you," Yuri told her. "B-But if you do try it, I'm sure it will be as good as it was at the festival, and y-your classmates would love it."

Natsuki's face turned red again at that. "Alright, fine. I'll j-just tell them if I'll go with it."

"Very well." Yuri glanced down at her poem for a moment before handing it back to her. "Here. I hope you keep practicing on your poetry as well. Y-You might need to try out other styles first, but once you do, I'm sure your writing will improve even further."

Natsuki nodded, sighing as she took back her poem from her. "Maybe. But I think I should just focus on perfecting what I already have. I don't want to compromise too much of it just to sound good."

Yuri felt a little self-conscious at her indirect jab, but knew better than to argue against it. Natsuki looked at her poem again, her eyes filled with meaning. "Either way . . . I think I'm gonna keep this poem even closer," she said. "Stick it on my locker door, that kind of thing, so that if I ever feel like giving up, I'll just take a look at it and remember."

"That's good," said Yuri.

After she had tucked the poem safely back within the pages of her manga book, Natsuki turned to her again. "How about you? When are you gonna write your next poem?" she asked her rather cheekily.

"Ah, I don't know q-quite yet," said Yuri with a nervous laugh. "There are a few things that I've b-been thinking about, and . . . I don't know if I'd be able to focus on any new poetry at the moment."

"Oh, okay. I was thinking that . . . well, it'd be nice if we could . . ."

As Natsuki's voice trailed off, Yuri leaned a bit closer to her. "Yes?" she asked curiously.

Natsuki shrugged, though it did little to dispel the slight discomfiture her face bore. "I mean, it'd be nice if we could, you know . . . share poems again or something. . ." she finished quietly. "B-But it's not gonna be like some sort of competition on who does better, okay?" she added posthaste in a jumpy tone. "It's just, well, a fun thing we could do, since this was pretty fun in spite of . . . of everything. . ."

As she listened to Natsuki mumble and mutter and try to admit that she had fun in a roundabout manner, Yuri could immediately see through her façade, and she felt warmed by the idea that she was not the only one who could get flustered when it came to coming out of her shell and interacting with people.

"That w-would be just fine with me, Natsuki," she told her sincerely.

"Oh." Natsuki looked put out for a moment, as if she was not expecting such a response from her. Nevertheless, she managed to give her a small grin. "Okay, then. That's . . . That's great."

Yuri smiled back. Though she knew that her own worries could still be lurking around the corner, a growing bond with people like Natsuki seemed to make everything feel just fine. Come what may, her grandmother had told her, and even for just a single day, Yuri felt like she could readily stand by such a declaration.

A/N: Greetings, everyone! I had planned on finishing this chapter a week sooner since I had most of it nailed down already, but a sudden turn of events altered my schedule and future schedules to come; a friend had approached me to help on doing some extensive developmental editing and copyediting work on a book for an acquaintance who wishes to have his work published. Long story short, I got the job and am now editing said book weekly.

This will be quite a lengthy project, and I don't know how much it'll affect my work for future chapters. As such, I apologize in advance if there are more lengthy delays in the future, since I'll basically be juggling between editing for this project and continuing my fic. Rest assured, however, that I will continue to write as much as I can during my free time and strive to keep delivering new chapters for you guys.

That's all for now. Stay safe, my friends, and see you in the next upload!