"…And? How'd you reply?"
"None of your business."
"Then why bring it up?"
"You were the one who asked the question."
"But you didn't have to tell me all that. Right?"
I sighed, unable to summon a retort because I knew, in her purely semantic, technical, nitpicking way, she was essentially correct.
It had been a mistake to come out here. Everything within me had screamed for me to stay home, let the days pass idly by, and weather whatever storm beckoned when the trumpets blared and school started afresh in the early spring. Yet despite my most rational intentions, I had allowed my inquisitiveness to get the better of me, knowing that I was walking headlong into a pitfall that would inevitably skewer the proverbial cat on the spikes of curiosity. The prophecy had been proven true, but there was little satisfaction to be found in its fulfillment.
Nevertheless, now that the dart had been thrown, it behooved me to follow it through to wherever it landed. And that was what I had proceeded to do.
This unfortunate series of events traces its origins to early afternoon, when I was lying supine on the couch, trying to digest the five-star, five-course meal that my sister had just served up for lunch. The term "food coma" might be purely metaphorical, but it genuinely felt as though I might descend into a hundred year slumber at any moment, awakening to find that the nuclear winter had come and gone, the hell-fires had stripped the surface of the earth bare and left it a desolate, charred wasteland, and my homework was still nowhere close to getting done.
Just as I was about to slip into a comatose state, my ears pricked up as a strange, barely audible noise rang out.
Ding.
It sure wasn't the microwave, given the volume of food we'd just consumed, and hence there could only be one possible answer. That's right, it was that most legendary, enigmatic, and unexpected of things: a notification on my phone. And given that I only had a single notification-worthy application installed, I had little trouble discerning what exactly had triggered that notification in the first place.
I could hear my sister humming as she washed the dishes in the kitchen, and my workaholic parents would never bother to contact me for anything during the day – not even if it was raining and they'd forgotten their umbrellas, which was invariably a job for the far more reliable Komachi to take up. The source of the text message, as I had deduced it to be, could thus only be someone from outside the family. But who?
With trembling hand and sweating palm, I reached up above my head, lifted the screen in front of my face, and thumbed the power button.
Hey, Senpai! You're free today, right? Of course you are. I wanted to talk to you about something, so come down to the family restaurant near the station at 3. You know which one. See ya!
I pressed my eyelids shut, hoping that the message was some sort of mirage born of my world-weariness and prolonged isolation, a mere trick of the digitally-imbued light. After a minute or so, I opened my eyes again and peered at the screen. The notification was still there.
The fact that I had absolutely no recollection of giving Isshiki my phone number was, somehow, the least pressing of the myriad questions that now confronted me. What on earth did she want from me today, of all days? The collaboration event was mercifully over, and school was a distant thought on my mental horizon. If ever there was a time for me to hibernate, free from the pointless politicking of school life and the exertions of having to keep up relationships, now was most certainly it.
More importantly, though, I hadn't forgotten what she'd said to me on Christmas Day, and I'd be exceedingly surprised if she had forgotten it either. I had tried to put it to the back of my mind as the holidays rumbled on and the calendar turned over a brand new leaf, but as the return of school beckoned, so too did all the unwanted baggage that came with it, trundling along on the conveyor belt, inching slowly but surely towards me. Was Isshiki now attempting to act as though that had been nothing but a passing remark, a pithy reply of negligible significance to be dumped into the dark recesses of both our minds and duly forgotten? Or maybe she was merely waiting to see how I would react, pouncing on the first sign of any vulnerability, giving me my first dose of humiliation for the year in the process. Either way, if I went – when I went, rather, since I could only guess at what horrors awaited me at school should I ignore her – I would find out exactly which of those possibilities would come to dreadful fruition.
As it turned out, however, neither would prove to be the case.
The fifteenth hour of the day struck, and I peeled myself off my couch and made ready to leave.
"Where are you going, Onii-chan?" asked Komachi from the stairs as I slipped my shoes on.
"Just… meeting someone for a bit."
"Oh?" With a parting wave, she pattered into the living room. "Have fun." Needless to say, she had an inkling about the possibilities regarding who I was meeting, and she was more than happy to let fate run its course, no matter which of those possibilities came to pass.
Sighing, I pushed out of the doors and into the razor-cold air, making my way to the family restaurant with as much haste as my stiffened limbs could muster. Stepping through the doors and taking in the sights and scents of cheap furniture and equally cheap cuisine, a waving hand poked out from behind the plastic shrubbery flanking the entrance across from the cashier.
"Senpai!" The head to which the hand belonged soon also materialized, as did the rest of what fell below her neck when I rounded the corner. I briefly noted that she was dressed in an outfit that was just that bit incongruous with the Isshiki-shaped mold of youthful immaturity I had formed in my mind's eye – an elegantly simple (or simply elegant?) one-piece white dress with translucent satin on the sleeves that would have been a far better fit for a certain ice-motif girl with whom we were acquainted – but those sorts of observations were duly pushed to the back of my mind by the overwhelming bewilderment of her calling me out here in the first place. My first question would thus also be that which currently bothered me the most – namely, how she had managed to contact me at all.
"Komachi gave me your number on Christmas," came the obvious reply.
Trust Komachi to leave no loose ends untied when it came to doing what was necessary – or unnecessary – for my own supposed wellbeing. "I'm guessing you both have each other's numbers as well, then."
"Of course. We're birds of a feather – she tells me exactly what I wanna know about you. In other words…" Her eyebrows wiggled. "Pretty much everything."
I shuddered. There was plenty about my private life that I didn't need used as ammunition against me, and especially not by her. "Everything?"
"You bet."
"Even my dietary needs? My favorite music to relax to after a long day at school? My daily exercise and moisturizing routine?"
"Your what?"
"…Never mind. Ignore that."
Isshiki frowned quizzically, but wisely decided not to comment further. "Anyway, I was just joking," she said with an insouciant smile. "We exchanged a few words when I first got her number, and she texted me to wish me a happy new year last week. That's kinda it, though."
More surprising than the fact that she and Komachi rarely texted – they were "birds of a feather" in her own words, after all – was Isshiki's readiness to admit she was actually pulling my leg. Where had the foxy, facetious underclassman who would take a joke to the ends of the earth if it meant stringing me along with it gone? Had she perished alongside the dying vestiges of the year just past?
Indeed, as my initial consternation faded and my observational faculties were restored, I was confronted by an uncanny picture of familiarity and unfamiliarity, a gossamer veil of the unknown superimposed upon the known. Isshiki's amber tresses, left uncut over the winter break, now pooled around her shoulders in little swirls instead of merely tickling them. The aforementioned white dress fell towards – as I had observed in the corner of my eye when I'd walked in – a pair of dainty blue heels, and a jet-black purse was nestled beside her thigh, its glossy flap poking just above the edge of the table across from me. Her face shone somewhat paler than usual, thanks in part to a thin layer of foundation coating the blush she typically allowed to color her cheeks.
I distinctly remembered Isshiki telling me she was an only child, so this couldn't be a sister, cousin, clone, or some other genetic relation she'd sent to meet me in her stead. Yet this sudden all-round glow-up simply took the phrase "new year, new me" to a wholly unforeseen level. Maybe this was part of some fresh New Year's resolution to appear like less of the airheaded façade that she'd built up in the minds of everyone around her, and wield a persona that might approach something more akin to her truer self. If so, though, this makeover only screamed overcompensation for an issue that didn't really need fixing in the first place. The pendulum had swung all the way from one extreme to the other, and I wasn't quite sure how I ought to come to terms with it. I wondered if I ever would.
"This looks nice. Think I'll get that." Isshiki, seemingly oblivious to the miniature identity crisis engulfing my thoughts, poked at the laminated menu on the table. "What about you?"
"Oh, I…" I hurriedly scanned the menu – a normally straightforward task complicated by virtue of it being upside down – and jabbed at a random drink. "That, I guess."
"Sure." Isshiki waved a waitress over and rattled off our respective orders. As the waitress trotted away, Isshiki stretched a hand up to her mouth, clearing her throat with a quiet yet pointed ahem as she turned her honey-glazed gaze back towards me. Finally, it was time for me to discover what exactly it was that had compelled this jarringly mature manifestation of Isshiki Iroha to summon me here on this inauspicious day, when the first vestiges of spring were starting to thaw the hardened edges of the glacial frost.
Firstly, however, an entrée to get things rolling.
"So…" She leaned her head into her hand and grinned. "How's your break been so far, Senpai?"
"But you didn't have to tell me all that. Right?"
"I guess not."
"Or maybe, this was all just a ploy to try and get me to be jealous about you meeting up with Yukinoshita-senpai over the break and spending New Year's Day with her and Yui-senpai, in which case, though I have to applaud your efforts and admit that the thought of you being with her made me feel just a little weird for just a little moment, that's unfortunately still not enough for me to change what I think about you as a person, even if I've learned not to judge a book by its dead fish-eyed cover. Sorry!"
Sometimes the more things changed, the more things stayed the same. "Yeah, yeah. Not an ice pop's chance in the ninth circle of hell I'd want you around on New Year's, anyway. I need to start the year off on a good note, after all. Can't have any bad karma hanging around me on the first day."
"Good thing I don't need you to ask me to come bug you." Isshiki dangled her mobile phone beside her and snickered. "Not when I've got a man – or girl – on the inside who'll do that for me. I'm sure Komachi would be willing to oblige, if her boring Onii-chan won't."
"If you say so. Why would you wanna hang around with us, anyway? New Year's is a time for families." That certainly was rich coming from me given how little I actually saw of my parents, but at least I knew they were always around if I truly needed them. "You should be spending time with your own."
"My family, huh." A shallow crease sunk into her forehead, throwing a thin shadow over her eyes. "You're right, I guess. Maybe I should be," she remarked unconvincingly.
It occurred to me – though perhaps I'd already been subconsciously aware for some time – that in the exceedingly few times her family had been mentioned in our conversations, she'd never been willing to let slip so much more than a look of unease here, a half-hearted comment or a quiet sigh there. I knew better to pry in something that was never going to be my business, and I had been content to leave well enough alone. Besides, I'd had enough of taking any sort of interest in someone else's personal affairs – Yukinoshita was a prime example of that, a Pandora's box of filial conflict and personality clashes that laid trouble at the doorstep of all who opened it.
Yet just as my thoughts began to flit elsewhere, a flash of warmth momentarily crept into my chest. It was the same warmth that had taken hold of me on New Year's Day, when I had been blessed with that most desirable and satisfying of emotions: the sense of reassurance, of comfort, and of knowing that even in the most vicious of storms, I always had a haven to return to, and people who cared for me unconditionally despite my myriad imperfections.
Most importantly, however, I somehow now understood that it was a feeling that could – and should – be shared.
"Well, Komachi would probably be okay with it. You coming with us for New Year's, I mean." I paused, heart caught in my throat as I spoke, even if what I was saying wasn't particularly daring or embarrassing by any stretch, especially not by my lofty standards. "And if she's okay with it, I am too."
Isshiki's irises, thus far veiled in melancholic shadow, abruptly gushed with topaz-tinged vigor, though she was careful not to let the rest of her features follow suit. "Really?" She smiled, the rigid frame of her eyes melting into unspoken relief. "I guess I'll take you up on that next year then, Senpai."
"…Yeah. If you remember, anyway."
"Don't worry, I will. Though maybe that'll depend on what happens this year." Isshiki raised a finger. "A lot can happen in 365 days, you know?"
"Uh-huh." A lot could happen in a week, let alone a year. That much was crystal clear by now.
"Which is why I was gonna ask you something today." She pursed her lips and fiddled with her hands, looking every bit the façade of the fidgety underclassman bracing herself to confess to her target of affection. "Although, now that you've told me about you and Yukinoshita-senpai, maybe this'll make things a bit easier. Can't let her hog you all for herself, right? Plus, if she doesn't actually want you to stick around, then I guess I have no choice, do I?"
I'd conveniently left out in my narration the part where Yukinoshita had said words to the exact opposite effect, but I decided it would be best not to correct her for now. In hindsight, maybe I really should have. "No idea what you mean by that," I muttered as I turned to glance out the window.
"Poor old Senpai, hung out to dry by his beloved club president. Don't fret, though, because the great Isshiki Iroha has a solution tailor-made just for you. You better be grateful." Isshiki pointed her finger squarely at my nose, and as I stared cross-eyed at it, she suddenly made me an offer that I knew I had simultaneously no right and every right to refuse.
"I want you to leave the Service Club and join the student council instead. How's that sound?"
