A/N: hii guys! sorry for my long absence. i was working on my own book and i finally finished it after some 2 years! it's all very exciting but i have free time now that i'm done to work on fanfic again 3 i'm excited to come back to this! pls enjoy this after such a long time...


Academic Decathlon Subject IV: Interview. Conversation Skills, Answer Preparation, Firm Hand Shake.

Hyuuga Natsume Decathlon Subject IV: Scariness. Ability to Effortlessly Strike My Heart with Worry and Anxiety.

Studying for Regionals


"We are afraid to care too much, for fear that the other person does not care at all." - Eleanor Roosevelt


Once the teams were decided, studying intensified. Now commenced the era Mikan had never been really privy to when she'd been on B Team last year.

Last year, there had been many days when Mikan had to walk home alone, sad and lonely, since her friends had extended Aca Dec studying to do at school. This time, Mikan was staying behind too. Her first after school study meet, she'd been practically vibrating with excitement.

She and Iinchou stopped by a vending machine to get drinks in the half hour interval between school letting out and the meet beginning.

"What do you want to focus on for the meet today?" he asked, plugging in his money for a juice.

"Oh, I don't know. I don't care. Anything works." Mikan was just happy to be involved, still over the moon that she'd actually managed to get on A Team after everything. All the stress and worry and crying at Natsume's house had paid off.

Iinchou scooted over to let Mikan have a turn and she carefully observed the options before putting in the money and selecting an orange soda. Iinchou started to turn back to the classroom, but Mikan wasn't done yet, ordering one more orange soda.

"Who's that one for?"

Mikan rolled her eyes and ignored the warmth spreading across her face. "Well… uh…" She made eye contact with the twin sodas in her hand. "...Natsume."

"Oh."

"Just because-" But she didn't know how to explain that even though he denied credit, it felt like Natsume was at least a little responsible for kicking her into gear. This was a thank you so that things could go back to normal because she was being slowly eaten alive by the crushing weight of her debt. "Because he-"

"That's very sweet of you, Mikan-chan," Iinchou said with a smile. "I'm sure he'll be very grateful. It's nice of you to put so much effort into making A Team civil and fun."

"...Right." Mikan was willing to go with that.

Only then did they start heading back to the classroom.

Most of the other A Team members were already in their seats already, sitting in the front center of the classroom so they could all be close, with the exception of Sumire, who was sitting on Koko's desk, reading through a paper in her hand. Probably his speech draft, Mikan mused. Based off the way Sumire's eyebrows were furrowed, it wasn't going very well.

Mikan spotted Natsume sitting at his desk by Ruka, who was showing him a video on his phone.

"-Reminds me of you," Ruka-pyon was saying with a snort.

"Shut up."

Iinchou gave Mikan an encouraging pat on the shoulder before he took his juice and sat beside Hotaru, who was studying, as usual. Buying an extra soda was one thing. It was humiliating to say her plan to Iinchou too, of course. But actually giving Natsume the drink? That was completely different! Now that she was standing in the room, the frosty cans numbing her hands, looking at the back of her enemy's head as he watched videos on Ruka-pyon's phone, it suddenly felt impossible to approach him.

What was she even supposed to say? Thanks soooooo much, Natsume. I owe you my standing on A Team. Without you, I'd have given up already.

No way!

She sniffed and decided to get it over with. She passed Natsume's desk in a huff, dropping the can onto the surface and then quickly moving past, ignoring the way it clattered. She sat down beside her friends and ripped open her binder so she could flip through it and make herself busy.

"Hi, Mikan-chan," Iinchou said.

"You didn't get me a drink?" Hotaru asked, glancing at the orange soda on Mikan's desk. "You're so rude."

"You never get me anything either!" Mikan hissed, but she kept her head low. "Iinchou, is he looking at me?"

"Huh?"

"Nobody's looking at you, Mikan."

That couldn't be true. But Mikan couldn't look, not without risking making eye contact with him and then opening up an opportunity for conversation about that second orange soda. He had declined credit for her achievements, right? And she didn't really want to make it out so that he was her savior or anything, but still… She just wanted this to stop looming over her.

"You don't have to be nervous, Mikan-chan! I'm sure he's happy to get a drink!"

Hotaru exhaled impatiently. "You got Hyuuga Natsume a drink but you didn't get one for me?"

"You never get me a drink!" Mikan said again.

"Neither does Natsume-kun."

"Yeah, but he…" She trailed off, her eyes boring holes into the random page of her curriculum she'd opened in her haste. "Nevermind. Is he looking at me?"

"Yes."

"Does he seem angry or upset or confused?"

"Well…" Iinchou was saying.

"He's just drinking the soda." Hotaru's voice had taken on a newly impatient tone, new heights of disparaging, even for her. "Who even cares?"

Mikan cared. Not that she could properly put into words why, but she cared.

Luckily Narumi walked in before she had to address the ins and outs of that. "Nice to see you all again!" Their coach greeted them with a grin. "From now on, attending these after-school meets will be essential to scoring high and also building camaraderie! I wouldn't advise missing any, on account of how serious you should be taking this. Besides, I have snacks and ramen in the back, so there's plenty incentive to keep showing up! I see all nine of you are here today, which is wonderful."

Mikan heard a loud slurp from behind her, which only made her bury her head lower into her curriculum.

"I was thinking, today, we could play a little Jeopardy! to practice Social Science. That'll be fun, right?" He received mumbles of affirmation and so he clapped. "Wonderful!"

"Koko shouldn't participate," Sumire protested. "He should be working on his speech. It's atrocious."

"Aw, Permy, that's not fair!"

Narumi hummed thoughtfully. "Well, he also could use a bit of work on his Social Science score, so he should probably participate. How about tomorrow, we can work on Speech more?"

"That works!" Koko said.

Mikan could tell Permy was rolling her eyes right then, but she didn't look up to check. "Ugh, fine."

After that, the game commenced. All the objectives were represented with the exception of Math (thank God), with their own category, so everyone had a chance to show off their stuff. Once Narumi read the question, it would be up to the kids to raise their hand to answer. Even Mikan got a few answers in.

And she definitely didn't sink into her seat when Narumi called on Natsume and suddenly his voice sounded from behind her, in between loud sips of something, to give an answer.

Hotaru dominated the game. Whereas others might falter due to the pressure of the game, Mikan's best friend was immune to such frivolous concerns. She was sure of herself and brilliant and was able to raise her hand and give a clear, concise answer each time.

When the game ended, Mikan, who had been keeping track of all she did and didn't know on a sheet of paper, circled the categories she did the worst in (Econ and Music) and put a star by her best subject (Art, of course).

Following the Jeopardy! game, Iinchou gave an impromptu lesson on the second Section of the Science curriculum, with everyone else following along and taking notes.

Once there was finally a break from all the studying, Mikan got up to fix herself some ramen. To get Hotaru off her back for not buying her a drink, she also grabbed a cup for her. Beef and shrimp. She was placing the cups in the microwave Narumi had in his classroom when that sick and familiar voice spoke up from right behind her.

"Is that for me, too?"

Mikan spun around to glare at Natsume. "Absolutely not! This is for me and Hotaru. Make your own ramen!"

Natsume brought the can of orange soda in his hand up to his mouth to loudly sip.

"There can't be anything left in that. You've been drinking it for an hour."

He flipped the can upside down and nothing dripped out of it. "Oh, would you look at that. I guess it's empty." He made a show of crumpling it up and throwing it away.

Mikan turned back to the microwave to set the timer, foolishly thinking herself free of him for the time being. But, just her luck, he came back immediately. "I want you to make me ramen too," he was saying, placing a cup in front of the microwave before she could press start.

"No!"

"But you're already making it. Just add mine."

"N. O."

She hoped he would just leave it, but she didn't expect for him to move in closer-always playing their game-and whisper lowly, "Please?"

Mikan's cheeks lit on fire and with a fierce inhale she grabbed his cup and shoved it in the microwave, on the plate beside the other ramen, slamming the door shut in a rage and finally pressing start. Then she gave a ragged exhale.

"Thanks," he said, voice still low. "I'm starting to see what everyone means about you. You are sweet."

"Just go away," Mikan grumbled.

"I'm waiting for my ramen." He pulled away from her, leaning against the nearest desk. "Why did you get me a soda, though?"

"I thought you'd be over that already."

"Well, it just happened, so no." The microwave whirred and he just stared. At her. Prompting.

"It was… my way of evening things." Mikan ducked her chin down and refused to look at him, instead watching the three ramen cups spin around slowly inside the glowing microwave. She was trying to convince herself it was much more interesting than looking over at him.

"Evening what?"

"Because you saved me," Mikan snapped. Why were they even having this conversation? "The stupid drink is gone so why does it even matter?"

"Thank you," he said softly. If she didn't know better, she might have thought he actually meant it with how earnest his voice got. "Though it was a little full of yourself to get orange soda."

"What! But your family said you love orange juice, so I thought-"

She was looking at him now, so she could see his eyes narrow when she mentioned his family. "Those people are idiots. Don't listen to them."

"'Don't listen to Mochu,' he says. 'Don't listen to my own family,' he says. Who should I listen to, then?"

"Me."

"Not a chance."

"You asked."

She rolled her eyes but before she could turn back to the microwave, he spoke again.

"Listen, about my stupid family…" Now he was the one averting his gaze, looking down at the floor instead of at her face. "They keep insisting on you coming over for dinner. I tried to tell them you wouldn't want to, but they demanded I ask, so… This is me asking. Say 'no,' or whatever."

She blinked in surprise. Had that been a genuine invitation before, when she'd been in his house? His family really wanted to get to know her? Then again, they'd also gotten the impression that Mikan was a friend of Natsume's and that definitely wasn't the case.

… Was it?

The microwave beeped and Mikan jumped in fright. "Oh, can you believe it! The food's done." She put all her focus and attention into removing the three cups from the microwave, then, handing one carefully to Natsume, but keeping her eyes on his fingers, not his eyes. "I should take this over to Hotaru before it gets cold. See you later."

She walked past him in a rush. She would've run away if she weren't holding two styrofoam cups filled to the top with boiling hot water. He didn't say anything as she left.

She set the shrimp cup in front of Hotaru and then took her own seat, hunching her shoulders in discomfort.

"Ah, you've finally remembered I exist," Hotaru said haughtily. "And here I thought you must have forgotten me."

"Do you think… maybe me and Natsume are friends?" Mikan asked, poking at her ramen to see if it was cool enough to eat. "He's starting to act weird. Is that because we're friends now? I don't know when that would have happened, because I still hate him and I'm sure he still hates me. Can friends hate each other?"

"Not typically," Hotaru answered. "Maybe he doesn't hate you. Maybe you don't hate him."

"No, I definitely do," Mikan said absently, taking her first bite of ramen.

He was inviting her to his house to have dinner with him and his family. Did even friends do that often? She couldn't remember the last time Hotaru came over for the express purpose of having dinner with Jii-chan and her parents. Usually, she came over for some other reason and then dinner naturally came of it. It certainly hadn't happened like that with Iinchou or any of her other friends either.

So this wasn't a friend thing at all.

Besides, he'd only asked because his family wanted to see her again. He clearly hadn't been a fan of the proposal.

Narumi interrupted her train of thought for the group to focus on Interview practice, so she had to leave behind musings about Natsume and his home and family for the time being.

It was only when the meet ended, when her and Hotaru's ramen was long gone, when she had a much better understanding of the Armistice, that she finally came up with her decision.

She packed up quickly and then approached Natsume's desk, where he was waiting for Ruka.

"I'd love to," she said in her sweetest voice. This was her way of winning a battle for once. He'd tortured her long enough. It was time for her to switch things up a little, and get under his skin. "How about after the meet tomorrow?"

He only stared at her, wide-eyed. She'd never seen him so shocked and it brought a jolt of giddiness through her that she was able to bring out this kind of reaction.

"Here, I'll give you my number so you can let me in on any details I should be aware of," she said, taking his hand so she could jot her number across the skin there. A move she hadn't thought through very well. Now she was touching his hand, grasping at him, and she'd never touched him so much without hurting him in her life. She refused to let her discomfort show, however, even though her face was burning. "There!" she said triumphantly, capping her pen and dropping his hand. "Don't lose it or I'll just show up at your house randomly and without warning."

Natsume stared down at his hand, at the blue scribbling on it.

"Good bye!" She turned and left, and he never replied. Maybe she had made a mistake holding onto his hand like that, but in the end, she still won. She had shown him not to mess with her like that!

She was a block away from home when she got a text from an unfamiliar number.

this is natsume. we'll go to my house together after the meet so dress nice to school tomorrow. i'll have my dad drive you back home after.

What was he doing? Her stomach dropped with the horror that maybe a battle hadn't been won after all! In the end, she'd willingly signed up to have dinner with his family in his house on his turf! And he was bossing her around! What was she gonna tell her family? What was she gonna wear?

"Ah, Mikan! How was school?" Jii-chan asked as soon as she came in through the door.

"I can't eat dinner here tomorrow!" she blurted out.

Just then, her dad's head suddenly popped out of the kitchen. "What do you mean?"

"I have…" How was she supposed to explain to her father that she was going to a boy's house-a boy she couldn't stand and that she'd accused of all sorts of horrendous things under this very roof-for a fancy, dress-up dinner with his parents? He'd get the wrong idea completely and forbid her, which would land Natsume comfortably as the winner of this round. "Well, after our study meet tomorrow, Hotaru and I are gonna hang out to study even more."

"Why can't she come here?"

"We're doing it at… Permy's house… so… no."

"Sumire-chan hasn't been to our home in so long!" Jii-chan exclaimed. "Invite her over too!"

"No!" Mikan's brain spun frantically, trying to come up with some excuse to get out of this mess she was digging herself. "We're doing it at her house because her house is a lot bigger…"

"Did Sumire-chan say that?" her dad asked. Then his eyes glinted. "Did you? Mikan, you know better than that-"

"No! There's just more room and there'll be more people and everyone agreed already! I'll have the next study session here, okay?"

Her dad's hesitance melted instantly and he grinned. "Yes! How about next week? Invite them all here! I'll make barbecue for them! The whole team!"

Mikan nodded, suddenly dying to get out of this place and into the comfort of her own room. "Thank you sooo much, Dad! Sounds like a plan!" With that, she ran upstairs and fought the urge to slam the door with frustration.

What had she done? Now she was supposed to invite her whole team to her house to study and eat barbecue? Natsume was on her team! She realized with horror that she'd never actually told her father that bit of trivia, so he would have no idea until it came time for introductions.

Not only had she agreed to have dinner with Natsume's family tomorrow, but now he would be in her house next week?

She didn't know which was worse: Natsume mouthing off to her dad about how she'd had dinner at his house or her dad murdering Natsume in front of all her friends.

She scanned her closet for an outfit to wear tomorrow in the vain attempt to distract herself from this truly terrible mess, but it was to no avail. Even when she thought she'd won, Natsume pulled the rug out from under her.

He was always the winner.


The intention was to beat Natsume.

That's why she got all gussied up, wearing a yellow and pink sundress and even some jewelry. He'd told her to dress nice, so she would. That way he'd see how seriously she was taking this and it'd be a major blow.

What she hadn't considered was that she had to wait through an entire school day and study meet before the dinner, in the middle of a very chilly November, she'd somehow left her coat at home, and most of the people she encountered just had to comment on her outfit.

"Wow, I guess someone has a date…"

"What's the occasion?"

"Finally putting effort in for once, huh, Sakura?"

It was all pretty unbearable. It wasn't even that fancy of a dress, but it was enough to draw out the most annoying of comments from people. She was quickly starting to regret this choice. Maybe it would have been better to simply bring a change of clothes and visit the bathroom really quick before going to Natsume's house.

Too late.

"Do you have a play in your class today or something?" Hotaru asked when she first saw her during lunch.

"You look lovely, Mikan-chan!" Iinchou said supportively, looking up from his bento.

"No," Mikan bit out as she sat down beside them. "No play. And thank you, Iinchou."

"What's the get-up for, then?"

Mikan flushed. She'd never told Hotaru or Iinchou, partly because she wasn't supposed to be talking about Natsume as much due to the bet she lost, partly because she didn't exactly know how to confess that she was going to have dinner with Natsume's family to make him uncomfortable.

"Dinner tonight," she mumbled, hoping they'd both leave it at that, stuffing her mouth with food to prevent her from putting her foot in it.

"It's nobody's birthday in your house," Hotaru said, narrowing her eyes. "There's no holiday today…"

"Do you have a date tonight, Mikan-chan?" Iinchou asked brightly.

"Definitely not!" She spat after rushing her chewing so she could defend her own honor.

"Oh…"

"With that anger, it has to be Natsume-kun," Hotaru deduced. "You look miserable. How did you get roped into a date with him in the first place?"

"It's not a date."

"You're having dinner with him, dressed very nice. Are you wearing earrings?" Hotaru snorted. "Seems like a date to me."

"It's not a date! It's dinner with his family." Mikan shook her head with frustration. Now it was all out in the open, and she couldn't be blamed for it this time because she had tried to keep it to herself.

"You're meeting his parents," Hotaru rephrased. "Not a date, huh? Are you getting married to him?"

Mikan shut her eyes, then let her head collide with their lunch table. "Oh, God."

"You're marrying him?" Iinchou said with horror. "But… how…?"

"I'm not marrying him!" Mikan said, her voice muffled by her face's position on the table. "But I'm wondering how I'm supposed to win this round if he's trapped me like this."

"Has this whole thing with Natsume-kun been you trying to beat him?" Hotaru asked. "Haven't I told you enough times that you can't? He's smarter than you and you don't know how to anticipate his moves. Just watch, if you don't believe me. You'll go into Aca Dec and he'll make some comment that bugs you to no end, and he'll win. You'll go to his house for dinner and he'll control the conversation and make you feel like an idiot, which you are for agreeing to this. You can't beat him, because of who you are."

Mikan didn't reply to that. It was kinda… true. Looking back, even when she thought she had the upper hand, Natsume managed to screw things up, using his gross silver tongue to undo all her confidence. Just yesterday, she'd been proud of herself for unnerving him and accepting his invitation, only to be crushed by his put-together text. It had always been like this between them. Why was she even still fighting then?

"How did you get your dad to agree to having dinner at a boy's house, though?" Hotaru asked, changing the subject but only by a little.

"I wanted to ask that too," Iinchou said.

Mikan slowly pulled herself up from the table so she could eat some more and comfort herself with lunch. "I lied, obviously. I'll apparently be at Permy's house tonight, and next weekend, I'm having a barbecue at my house with the whole team…"

"Jeez, Mikan, how on Earth do you manage to screw things up so majestically? You made it so now Natsume-kun has to meet your father? I know you hate him, but that much? He'll be skinned alive."

"I just won't invite Natsume!" Mikan said, coming up with the idea on the spot. "I'll invite everyone but him and I won't talk about it in front of him and hopefully, he'll never find out and that way, he can live for longer than just another week! There!"

"That seems a bit mean, Mikan-chan," Iinchou said. "I mean, I know you think you're protecting him, but if you leave him out without explaining, you might hurt his feelings."

"Natsume doesn't have feelings, Iinchou," Mikan dismissed, ignoring the fact that she apparently did, her stomach churning unpleasantly. "I can't hurt what's not there."

"I can't wait to see how this comes around to bite you in the ass," Hotaru said evilly, smiling in a way only Disney villains did.

Mikan was beyond nervous to enter the Aca Dec room for the last class of the day. She'd have to face all those people in her pretty dress, especially Natsume, and somehow be fit enough to pay attention for a class and an afterschool meet.

She'd save the barbecue invitation for later. She could make a groupchat and conveniently leave Natsume's number off the list. After all, she'd only just gotten it yesterday when he texted her. It would be nothing more than a simple mistake!

With that plan in the works raising her spirits, she entered the class as quickly as possible so she could sit down without anyone noticing.

"Wow!" Koko exclaimed as soon as she walked in. "You dressed up so nice for little old me?"

Mikan pulled her dress lower and made her way to her seat.

"Don't mind him," Permy said. "He has to give his new speech today at the meet, so… Why are you wearing that dress? It's freezing today."

Yes, it was. Mikan's arms and legs were stamped with goosebumps and she'd been shivering all day. The sweater she'd worn on top of the dress and the tights beneath it were definitely not enough to keep her warm. But she had to wear this dress. It was her nicest dress that wasn't for a dance or anything.

"I have dinner today," Mikan said.

"A date?"

Why did everyone on Earth think dinner and a dress meant she was going on a date?

Luckily for her, though, Natsume was late to class today. He walked in and his eyes were immediately on her. Her eyes were on him too, raking over his jeans and extra layers. He looked so warm, and she was so cold. He didn't have the chance to speak because Narumi was still talking, so he sat by Ruka and Mikan was saved from whatever humiliating comment he was saving up for later.

To further protect herself, she sat as far away from Natsume as she could during the rest of class, taking diligent notes and pretending like he wasn't even there. But he was, and she could tell, because he couldn't stop looking her way, sadistically taunting her about the fiasco that would come later that night.

When the bell rang to end school, Mikan rushed away with Iinchou and Hotaru to get drinks at the vending machine, stalling as much as she could. When the meet finally started, Mikan snuck in far behind everyone else, sitting in a corner and investing herself fully in the Science curriculum so she could go unnoticed.

Natsume didn't bother her.

Koko gave his new and improved speech, still about watermelon flavored Jolly Ranchers, though Mikan had never heard the original, and Permy insisted this was even worse than it had been before, resulting in a loud fight as the sun was setting outside.

The hours passed by and then Narumi dismissed them and just as Mikan was about to exhale in relief that she had somehow managed to survive this day without talking to Natsume even once, he was there, in front of her desk, his backpack already on his shoulder.

"Hey."

Right. The day wasn't over yet.

"Hello," she said, collecting her things and putting them away slowly, in no rush.

"Good luck, Mikan-chan," Iinchou said as he walked out of the room with Hotaru.

"Have a nice night," Hotaru chimed in cruelly, that evil smile on her face again.

Mikan just glared until they were both gone. Then she moved her eyes to Natsume again. "You're not gonna murder me, are you?"

"I promise," he said. "Are you ready?"

Mikan finished zipping up her backpack and ran her eyes over the classroom. No, sadly there was no other excuse to linger.

"Are you two going on a date?" Narumi said all of a sudden, his voice pitched with excitement.

"Nah," Natsume said.

"Just dinner," Mikan corrected. "Not a date."

"Wait, really?" Narumi grinned. "How wonderful! You two have a great night!"

Mikan smiled, but she didn't mean it, exiting the room with Natsume following closely after.

"It's too late for you to back out," he told her as they started walking. "My dad's making a whole feast. If you don't come, we'll never finish it."

"Oh…" Mikan looked back on her meeting with Natsume's father and sister. They'd been friendly and kind, completely unlike him. She didn't mind seeing them again, but the pressure of what kind of dinner this was supposed to be and Natsume's presence there complicated things. "That's really nice of him."

"I told him you're a pig, so you would probably end up eating the bulk of the meal."

Mikan saw red-that nasty color-and punched his arm. "You didn't! Why would you say that?"

Natsume rubbed at his arm, but that dastardly smirk stayed put on his mouth. "'Cause I thought it'd be funny. I told him you're a growing girl and you could use all the nutrients you can get. You could use a growth spurt, I think."

"I've already had my growth spurt."

"Coulda fooled me."

They were now off the campus grounds. It was dark out, and very cold, and Mikan was starting to regret every choice she'd made in the past twenty-four hours.

"Thanks for listening," Natsume said softly. "Dinners like this mean a lot to my dad. He likes to make a big production out of them. If you showed up in jeans, you'd probably feel underdressed."

She had assumed the command about how she dressed was just him being bossy. She felt guilty, suddenly. He'd done her a favor. "Is this good, then? It's not too much?"

"It's perfect," he said. A beat passed. Mikan's cheeks were hot and Natsume kept his gaze away from her. "I mean, it'll do, Pig."

Mikan smacked him again, as eager as he was to pretend like he hadn't said anything to make her blush. "How come your dad wanted to see me again? I thought he was just being polite inviting me before. I can guess Aoi-chan was just messing with you, but…"

Natsume didn't answer right away. This walk was so long and it was so dark, their path occasionally illuminated by a street light just to be plunged back in darkness a few footsteps later. "No reason. He's just friendly. Somehow, you convinced him you were worth seeing again."

"What's your mom like?" Mikan asked. "I should be prepared to meet her too. Will she ask me questions?"

"Ah," he shook his head. "Don't mention that at dinner."

"Why not?" She'd only been trying to seem cooperative and receptive to making this go smoothly. For some reason, she wanted to make a good impression on his family.

He sounded completely casual and unbothered when he said, "She's dead. Dad never got over it. If you bring it up, he might start crying and it would bring the vibe down, so just don't mention it."

She was once again reminded of the fact that she had feelings-and a lot of them-when her stomach did some more somersaults and familiar guilt spread across her chest and face. Natsume's mom was alive, last time she'd checked, which was… ah, in kindergarten. When she'd hogged all the crayons for the Mother's Day gifts and told Natsume he didn't love his mom like she loved hers. He'd said lots of things like, "Yes, I do, Ugly!" and "She's way better than your mom!" Somehow, since then, something horrible happened.

She was just glad she hadn't made a worse faux pas about this, and that it had just been the two of them when she had this realization.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Just don't talk to my dad about it and you'll be good."

That was probably hint enough that he didn't want to talk about it. Joking about Natsume not having a heart and being incapable of love was one thing, but seeing glimpses into things like this suddenly made her feel bad for even implying it. She couldn't imagine losing her own mom. It would break her. Maybe Natsume was broken.

He stopped walking abruptly, and Mikan tripped in surprise before turning to him with confusion. "Did I say something?" she asked, concerned.

"Don't start feeling sorry for me," he said, voice steady. "Be mean and call me names like you usually do. If you're suddenly nice and sweet just because my mom's dead, I'll be really pissed off. Be your usual annoying self at this dinner, or I'll kick you out of my house and you can walk yourself home in the dark."

"I-I wasn't-"

"Yes, you were. Don't. I'm giving you permission to not care about my dead mom, okay? Just don't bring it up, be normal with my family, and it'll be fine." Only then did he continue walking. "You didn't get me a soda today."

Mikan was getting whiplash from this conversation. Only fifteen minutes with him and her mind was all twisted up. "You didn't deserve a soda today." She hadn't wanted to talk to him or have him comment on her dress, but it turned out okay in the end. But she wasn't about to tell him that. "I can't spend all my money on you."

"I don't see why not."

"It's your turn to get me a soda."

"I'm inviting you to a feast at my house, so I think it's your turn again."

It would be the perfect moment to mention the barbecue, to say it was actually his turn next, but then he would know about it and she couldn't "forget" to invite him. Mikan bit her lip, trying to come up with some other thing to say. "Another orange soda, then?"

"Try strawberry soda next time."

"I thought you loved orange soda! That's what your family kept saying!"

Natsume shook his head exasperatedly. "That was… like a double entendre."

"A what?"

"Nothing. They meant orange juice, not soda. Try strawberry next time."

"Okay, suit yourself."

Natsume led the way until they were on a vaguely familiar street-his street-and then the reality of the incoming evening felt more urgent. This was real. She was about to have dinner with Natsume's family for no real reason. They weren't even friends, and they definitely weren't dating, so this was completely out of nowhere. And yet, she was still doing it.

When they were by the front door, he turned a little to tap her on the nose with a surprisingly warm finger. "Be on your most normal behavior. They're morons too, so you should fit in just fine." Before she could comment or reply, he turned again and opened the door.

"I hope dinner's done already," he announced rudely instead of greeting his family. He kicked off his shoes and Mikan followed after, leaning down to do the same but much more politely.

"Mikan-chan!" Aoi shouted from down the hall, sprinting towards her. "You actually came!"

"Welcome, Mikan-chan," Natsume's father said with a smile.

Natsume closed the door and suddenly Mikan was warm and cozy. His dad was in the kitchen, and the smell coming from the stove and the oven were exquisite. Maybe she was a little bit hungry enough to eat everything he offered…

Aoi was dressed in a pretty pink dress and Mikan suddenly understood what Natsume meant about this being a production. The table was already set with the napkins folded up to look like swans and a candle in the center waiting to be lit. It was all lovely.

"Thank you so much for having me."

"Of course!" Aoi grabbed Mikan's hand and led her deeper into the house. "I've always been so excited to meet you!" Mikan glanced at Natsume, who was pointedly looking away, taking his coat off. Despite everything he must have said about her over the years to his family, Aoi still wanted to meet her? And here Mikan was, terrified to have Natsume step foot in her house in case her dad killed him. Either Natsume kept much of their encounters to his chest, Aoi wasn't as loyal as Mikan's dad was, or Mikan wasn't really all that bad as he was…

Probably the latter.

Then again, she was an only child and didn't know what siblings were supposed to act like. Maybe befriending your brother's enemy just came with the territory.

Aoi, while still grasping Mikan's hand, turned on some music from her phone, dousing the room in sudden pink pop atmosphere. Mikan didn't miss the obnoxious way Natsume rolled his eyes. (Or the fact that he had worn a nice dress shirt under his coat at school… Mikan was really regretting that she'd decided to forget her coat at home.) Apparently neither did Aoi.

"We can't have your terrible music on with Mikan-chan in our house! We have to make a good impression."

"Who cares what Polka Dots thinks?" Natsume muttered, and Mikan narrowed her eyes in his direction, but Aoi ignored him.

"Besides, I'm sure Mikan-chan loves this kinda music."

Mikan nodded, and she did enjoy the light and bright feel of the music. She wondered what kind of music Natsume listened to, though, and was slightly disappointed to miss this opportunity to make fun of him for his taste.

"I love your dress, Mikan-chan," Aoi said sweetly. "It matches mine a little." Yes, the pink of Aoi's dress did match the little pink flowers on Mikan's. A nice coincidence.

"What a boring conversation," Natsume said. "When's dinner?"

"You're so rude, Onii-chan. Daddy's been slaving away in the kitchen for hours! And you should be a better host."

"You're the one who wanted her here. I was just your messenger."

Mikan had known Natsume her whole life, pretty much. She'd never had positive feelings about him, since he was so horrid and unpleasant. She liked avoiding him and all things that reminded her of him. He tended to make her feel bad about life and bad about herself. She didn't like him and she was under no delusions that he felt anything but hatred towards her.

So why did that comment hurt so much?

"Don't listen to him," Aoi said. "He's just embarrassed you're in our house."

Natsume didn't want her here, of course. It was just as she had originally assumed. He had only invited her because Aoi wanted to see her again. She'd agreed to torture him, but it was only torture if he wished she wouldn't come. For some reason, during their walk here, she'd let herself think this could almost be fun…

"I'm overjoyed to be here, Aoi-chan," Mikan said, ignoring the burning in her chest. "I love your music and I can't wait to see what your father made for dinner."

"Yay!" Aoi clapped her hands together excitedly. Mikan shot Natsume another glare, but he didn't send one back because he was too busy staring holes into the carpet.


On and off, Natsume and Mikan were strangers or classmates or partners. Some years it was easier for them to ignore each other than others. When they were sat next to each other as seatmates or partners, they had no choice but to interact on a daily basis, and those interactions were never pleasant.

Some years, though, especially recently, they didn't share any classes, so Mikan could go through her life forgetting he even existed. An entire week could pass without her even laying eyes on him, and when she did, he just passed her by in the hall without a second glance. They weren't real to each other in those moments, just strangers.

But occasionally they would be in the same class, just not shoved into each other's orbit. In sixth grade, Natsume was in Mikan's class. He sat in the back, near the window while she sat near the front next to Koko. They did not have to interact, but she couldn't forget him because he was always there. She'd hear his voice and feel a tickle in her throat, or brush past him on her way to her seat and feel that part of her skin that had touched him burning. He was simply impossible to ignore.

There was a day where a lady from the office went into the classroom to fetch Natsume, summoning him to the front office. "Can I borrow Hyuuga Natsume for a moment?" she'd asked, her voice entirely devoid of feeling and coming off impatient. She'd always been stern and demanding, and as soon as he left with her, Mikan turned to Koko to joke about what kind of trouble he'd probably gotten himself into. He was gone, though, so she quickly forgot about the incident and moved on with her day.

"He probably got expelled."

"I heard he's been starting fires behind the school. He probably just got caught."

Without her even noticing much, weeks had passed without Natsume reappearing in class. If Mikan did ever think about it, maybe she mused that he'd gotten himself suspended with his mischief, or that he'd gotten a little sick.

"Did you notice Hyuuga's been absent for a long time?"

"Have you asked that blond kid about it?"

But then, after about two months of no Natsume in her class, she found out he'd gotten transferred to the remedial class because his long absence would prevent him from catching up.

"Did you hear? Hyuuga Natsume's in a remedial class now!"

"That's hilarious! He always acted so arrogant, this serves him right!"

And all Mikan had thought then was good riddance, didn't need you anyway.

But now that she thought about it, that idle memory seemed so much darker, so much sadder, so much guiltier.

He hadn't gotten into trouble at all. He hadn't caused any mischief. That must have been it, she realized. That was when his mother passed away. That's why he missed so much school. That's why he fell behind. And it never became a raging rumor around campus because he'd probably kept it to himself, the way he clearly was still doing.


She had always thought the worst of him. Maybe that's why he hated her. Looking back objectively-which was hard for her-she realized that maybe she was a bit hard on him at times. Is that why he didn't want her in his house?

Mikan was incredibly nervous to talk to him when dinner was eventually served. The Hyuuga family was small, so there was a chair at every side of the square table. Mikan was expected to sit with Natsume on one side and Aoi on the other, with Mr. Hyuuga across from her, with a large layout of dishes separating them all. She just hoped everyone would be too invested in the food to notice if she didn't talk much.

For the first time in her life, she was worried about making Natsume annoyed.

The food was very good. All the dishes were autumnal and cozy, with sweet potatoes and chestnuts playing lead roles. Natsume was very lucky to have such a good cook for a father. She decided it wouldn't hurt to say so.

"Well, he ought to be good at something," Natsume muttered, almost inaudibly.

"Thank you, Mikan-chan!" his dad said with a grin.

"It is very good, Daddy," Aoi chimed in. "Natsume is ungrateful and spoiled."

"You wanna talk spoiled?" Natsume retorted.

"Tell me about your parents, Mikan-chan," Mr. Hyuuga said, interrupting what was probably shaping up to be a sibling squabble.

"My dad's an elementary teacher and my mom is a social worker. My grandpa lives with us, but he's retired."

"A teacher and a social worker!" He seemed delighted by that. "I'm sure they raised you to be very compassionate."

Natsume snorted. Mikan changed the subject. "What do you do, sir?"

"I'm an artist. I'm sure Natsume has told you. I try to do it full time, but the work's not always very lucrative."

"His paintings are very beautiful," Aoi said excitedly. "He's a lovely artist! So is Natsume, actually."

Mikan turned to stare at Natsume. She hadn't really ever thought of him as being good at anything. Even him knowing more about Math than her hadn't really felt like a talent, rather another facet to being a robot. But to think he was good at art. And had been. This whole time. "You're an artist, Natsume?"

"He's wonderful at art!" his father said. "He's always been interested in it, ever since he was a child. And he's multimedia too. Natsume, show her some of the things you made in your Ceramics class last year."

Mikan felt awful, like a hole had opened up in her gut and swallowed all her other organs. There was something about the way Natsume was hunched over his plate, the way he refused to look up at her, that made Mikan think his skill with art wasn't supposed to come up at all this evening. Aoi and their dad kept talking, though, like they couldn't notice the tension coming from one half of the table.

"He made a lot of really pretty stuff in Woodshop in freshman year, too!"

"And he took art classes all through elementary and middle school. He's an excellent painter."

"Show her, Natsume!"

"No." His voice was bitter, but Mikan sensed some shame in it too, like a secret had leaked and she wasn't supposed to know.

"You're good at Art, right?"

He'd lied.

"Help me."

He'd lied.

"I just can't get through it."

Why had he lied?

"He's just being modest," Aoi was saying. "Here, I'll show you." She got up from the table and skipped down the hall, ignoring Natsume's harsh glare, which he kept on his sister's retreating figure and never on Mikan.

"Are you good at art, Mikan-chan?" Mr. Hyuuga asked.

Mikan wanted to cry. "No."

Only then did Natsume look at her, his eyebrows furrowed. "She's great at art history. That old-as-balls shit I don't care about." He turned to his father. "You know, Dad, like Picasso."

Mr. Hyuuga chuckled. "Oh, no, Natsume hates art history. He very much thinks himself above the old masters-"

"Yeah, well, it's a hobby. I have no interest in starving so I can pretend I'm following my dreams." The way he said the last three words was mocking and derisive, obviously a barbed sting at his dad.

"Natsume's very good at math too," Mr. Hyuuga said. "A more pragmatic skill, maybe."

Mikan was struggling keeping up with the conversation, since she was a little preoccupied with relief that maybe Natsume hadn't lied. He apparently hated art history, which was pretty much the whole Art curriculum.

"Here!" Aoi said, running back, clutching a daintily painted ceramic in the shape of a spindly sakura tree. Mikan's mouth dropped open.

"Natsume, you made that?" It was gorgeous, and looked like something someone could only get at a store, made from some machine. And he'd made it with his own two hands.

Natsume's head thumped against the table, buried in his arms.

"Aw, look, he's embarrassed," Aoi teased. "He's good, huh?" She placed the tree on the coffee table. "He hides them all in his room, but they're so beautiful! They should be on display!"

Mikan stared at the tree, but the realization that Natsume had a room that he slept in suddenly made her cheeks flush. That's where his clothes would be. That's where his bed was. That's where his stuff was.

Who cares! Just another meaningless yet powerful thought taking over her brain, just like the image of Natsume after she'd pushed him into the pool.

"I think the sakura tree is the prettiest thing he's ever made. He made some other stuff but it was all stupid manga stuff. Like that Naruto teacup set he made. Ugh."

"I think those things were lovely too," Mr. Hyuuga said. Natsume's face was still in his arms. "But we've talked so much about Natsume and we invited you over so we could get to know you better! Please forgive us."

"No, no, it's okay," Mikan said. "I like learning things about Natsume."

"Natsume, you haven't finished your food," Aoi scolded.

"If you're not as much an artist, what do you like to do?" Mr. Hyuuga asked. "Do you intend to follow in your father or mother's footsteps?"

Mikan lit up. "I've thought of it! I think it would be really lovely to be a teacher. I really like kids and it's rewarding work. But I'm not really good at a lot of things." Now that the spotlight was off him a little, Natsume was emerging from his self-imposed cocoon, coming up for air and taking another bite of food. "I'm not like Natsume, who's so smart and good at everything." He threw her a glare, but she kept going. "I'm good at sports, though!"

"Oh, yeah! Natsume told us!" Aoi grinned, ignoring her brother's angry and murderous gaze. "Do you still play, Mikan-chan?"

"Not as much," Mikan said. "I couldn't fit it into my Aca Dec schedule. I had to choose between track and soccer and Aca Dec and I chose Aca Dec. I was really lonely on those teams, actually. All my friends were in Aca Dec."

"Oh, that's sad."

"...I didn't know that," Natsume said, speaking for the first time in a long while.

"It's not a big deal," Mikan said dismissively, waving her hand as she took another bite of delicious food. "I have so much fun in Aca Dec. I'll just keep doing sports in college, or something. Maybe I can make friends then."

"Natsume likes basketball," Aoi said cheerfully.

"We've talked enough about me. Aoi, why don't you talk about your talents?"

"I'm good at lots of things…"

"You're not good at anything."

"I'm good at basketball, too!" Mikan said.

"I said Natsume likes basketball; not that he's any good at it. Of course you're good at it, Mikan-chan."

Mikan didn't know it happened, but she found herself unable to shed her face of the smile that had made itself at home there. The Hyuuga family had effortlessly made her feel welcome in their house, and even Natsume seemed far more pleasant at this dinner table than he ever had before.

Did it matter if they weren't friends if she was having so much fun?


Dessert was served and, after another couple of hours of conversation, which had moved to the couch so Mr. Hyuuga could serve them all hot tea, Mikan had decided that-Natsume aside, obviously-she loved the Hyuuga family.

Aoi was cheerful and fun to talk to, even if she did have a bit of an attitude (if it was directed at Natsume, then Mikan didn't mind). Mr. Hyuuga was polite and sweet, and surprisingly tolerant of his son's verbal abuse. Even Natsume was easier to deal with under this roof than he ever was at school.

"Oh, no!" Mikan said, checking her phone for messages and seeing a long line of texts. "It's so late!" Panicked texts from her dad asking where she was, curious texts from her mom about when she'd be back, and teasing texts from Hotaru about how her "dinner with the inlaws" was going.

Mr. Hyuuga had fallen asleep on the couch, his head leaning on the cushions. He was clearly exhausted.

Natsume moved as if to wake his dad but Mikan caught his wrist before he could. "No!" she hissed. "He worked hard on making all that food. I'm sure he's very tired after doing so much. Let him sleep."

"Okay," he said, crossing his arms. "So you're gonna walk home?"

"You can't drive, Natsume?"

He shook his head.

"Dang it…" She got up with a sigh. Oh well. There was always the Maps app. "It's okay. My phone still has plenty of battery. I'll just walk."

Aoi elbowed Natsume and he stood up too. "I… I can go with you."

Aoi smiled wickedly. "Yes, let him walk you home, Mikan-chan!"

"You don't have to-"

"He wants to!"

"It's not a problem," Natsume said.

"It's a long walk," Mikan argued. "You really don't have to-"

"Shut up," he said. "You're annoying me. I'm walking you and that's that. Get moving."

"Be a gentleman, Onii-chan," Aoi said. Then she threw her arms around Mikan. "It's been so nice meeting you, Mikan-chan. Please come over again soon! We all love you so much."

"I had a good time too," Mikan said, hugging Aoi back. "I had no idea Natsume's family was so nice."

"He's the exception," Aoi said as she pulled away. "I think he was a monster that switched places with the real baby Natsume at the hospital, and that's why he acts like such a demon."

Mikan's laugh was cut short when Natsume put his hand on her shoulder and started nudging her to the door. She took the hint and put her shoes on, following his lead again.

"Tell your father I said good-bye," Mikan told Aoi. "I really had a very good time."

"Me too! Bye! Be safe!"

The door closed and Mikan was trapped outside with Natsume in the dark and the cold. It was much colder now than it had been during their walk here from school. She was about to complain out loud about her own stupidity at leaving her coat at home when she suddenly felt something warm and heavy on her shoulders.

Natsume was passing her already, heading down the sidewalk. "Come on."

Mikan looked to see he'd placed his cozy-looking jacket over her shoulders. "You-You don't have to-"

"You've been outside for ten seconds and you're already shivering," Natsume said. "Just take it and come on." He was moving further and further down, not slowing down for her, wearing a much thinner sweater over his dress shirt.

She gave in and slipped her arms through the sleeves of his thick jacket, and then jogged to catch up to him. "Thank you."

"You won this round," he said cryptically. "Yet again."

Again?

"What are you talking about?" Mikan said, grumpy at his attitude and how warm his jacket was. "You're the one who's always winning. I just end up making a fool of myself."

"You always win," he said firmly, as if there was no room for argument.

Their walk to Mikan's home was much longer and quieter than their walk to his.

Mikan had ended up having a wonderful time at the Hyuuga household, but there'd been plenty of shocking revelations about Natsume and, if Aoi was right, he was embarrassed about them.

About ten minutes into the walk, Mikan decided to break the thick ice that had been towering between them. "Did you ever need help with the Art curriculum?"

He scoffed. "Are you kidding? You think I care at all about Picasso or Douche-amp? If you didn't drill those dull facts into me, I wouldn't have even bothered with that subject."

Mikan hadn't even realized she'd started smiling until she moved her mouth to reply. Thankfully, he didn't notice. "You are a very good artist. I wish I'd gotten to see your other stuff." He wasn't looking at her, but she could see his skin turn a little pink. Somehow, she had the feeling it wasn't because he was suddenly much colder. She would never say it out loud, but it was a little cute. "Do you draw too?"

It took him almost forty seconds to finally say, "Sometimes."

"Cool! What do you like to draw?"

"Stuff."

"How informative," she snarked. "Well, anyway, I would ask you to draw me sometime, but knowing you, you'd probably make me look like a pig or something-"

"A realistic rendering," he commented.

"-And I don't think that's fair to me. Have you ever drawn Ruka-pyon? Aoi-chan?" Permy. She banished that bitter thought as soon as it popped into her mind. Permy was her friend and didn't deserve any of her negative vibes. "Your dad?"

"I don't really do portraits."

"What do you draw?"

"Like I said, stuff."

"I'm pretty bad at drawing," Mikan said. She was now keeping up with his stride rather effortlessly, not even minding the way their arms brushed against each other as they walked. "You guessed right before. I'm no good at it. Or any art really. I'm good at cooking though! I make this really cool cheesy broccoli soup with a secret ingredient-honey! Nobody seems to like it much but me, but it's really good. Maybe I should take it to an after school meeting so you guys can try it. I guess, if you count cooking, then maybe I am pretty creative. Do you cook? What's your favorite food? Is it orange juice?"

"No."

"You seem like a dessert kinda person," she mused, thinking about how much of his father's dessert Natsume had devoured. In terms of dessert-eating ability, he almost rivaled Mikan. Almost. "I could make you a dessert then. My desserts are really interesting because I like to spice things up. Like, what if you made a mille crepe with-"

She couldn't get any other word out. In a nanosecond, she'd completely forgotten what she'd been talking about. The only thought on her mind was how Natsume was holding her hand.

His hand was warm and his grip was tentative, like he'd let her rip away if she wanted. What was this? How come he was holding her hand? Was he cold? Was that it? Should she give the jacket back?

She kinda didn't want to, though… It was very soft and warm and comfy. He could have it for his walk back home-

WHY WAS HE HOLDING HER HAND? WHAT THE HECK WAS GOING ON? WHAT WHAT WHAT-

"With what?"

"Huh?" She looked up at him reluctantly, afraid to see him smirking at her about how he'd beat her yet again. He'd won, after all, humiliating and terrifying her like this. But he wasn't smirking. His face was tinged with pink and he was looking at the ground, like he was coming to terms with a crushing defeat. "What?"

"You were talking about spicing up mille crepe with something."

"Oh… I don't know. Tomatoes or carrots or something… Like a sweet vegetable crepe."

"With the custard still in it? That sounds gross."

He was talking like nothing had happened, giving her no choice but to follow along. She pointedly did not mention his fingers around hers.

"It's creative."

"It's nasty. You're an awful cook."

"You're so mean! It's one of my few talents!"

"It most certainly is not."

She successfully forgot about his hand. His mouth was so infuriating she couldn't care about anything beneath that. That's the reason she didn't even realize she'd returned his hold at first. Somehow, in between arguing and retorting, her fingers had ended up gripping his. By the time she realized, she really couldn't bring it up, because now it wasn't just him holding her anymore. Now they were holding hands. She was just as culpable.

"You're really… scary," she said when the reality of their hand-holding sunk in.

"Scary? Didn't I promise I wouldn't murder you? Even though you did test me plenty tonight…"

"You scare the… crepes out of me."

"What'd I do this time?"

She couldn't answer that without mentioning the hands. When she was around him, she ended up doing things without even meaning to. Pushing him into the pool or shoving his chair back in the computer lab hadn't felt like real intentional actions at the time. They just happened, just like she just happened to hold his hand back so that they now looked like a couple walking down the sidewalk at night. He was horrifying because of how unpredictable he could be, how easily he could surprise her, how much she stressed about him, how even just tonight, she'd been anxious about potentially bothering him. How was she supposed to say any of that and have him understand without rubbing her nose in it?

"This is it, right?"

She looked up, shocked to see her house in front of her. She hadn't even realized they were on her street.

"How'd you know where I live?"

"You told me," he said, but she couldn't remember telling him that. Until she started asking him about art, they'd been walking in silence.

"Are you stalking me?"

"No," he spat. "You told me."

"No, I didn't!"

"You didn't tell me today."

"When did I tell you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Does it matter? You're home now. I thought you were running late."

"When did I tell you?"

"Your home. That way."

"When? Natsume, tell me when!"

"Fifth grade."

"Huh?!" Fifth grade was years ago.

"I took you home. That's all."

"You were stalking me! You've kept that information for six years! I don't even remember telling you! This is really crazy…"

"You told me. I'm not a creep. Aoi was selling cookies through me once and you bought some, so you had to give your address. You live close to Mochu and Tsubasa, so it's easy to remember. I am not stalking you."

Mikan did vaguely remember buying chocolate chip cookies from Natsume, but only because he was the only person she knew who had contact with a girl scout and Jii-chan had insisted. It had taken all her pride to tell him she wanted cookies, and he'd glared at her the whole time she'd been filling out the order form. Hotaru had bought way more cookies from him that year than Mikan. Did he remember her address too?

She glanced at her house.

They were still holding hands. If she wanted to go into her house, she'd have to let go of his hand. If she let go of his hand, it'd bring attention to the fact that she'd been holding it. If she brought attention to it, maybe he'd make fun of her.

Was this the natural progression of their game? First it'd been the staring contests, which he usually won. The staring had turned into shoving and kicking at each other under their seats in Aca Dec. Then it had turned into that weird, leaning in thing that Permy had stupidly thought was kissing. That intimidating proximity had turned into this, this physical touch, this holding hands. This was just the next step in their effort to one-up each other, right?

What on Earth could possibly be next?

"'Night." His fingers loosened on her hand without warning, so their union only lingered because she was still holding on. In a panic, she withdrew her hand from his, clasping it into her own, pretending like it'd been that way this whole time. (Even though one hand was warm and the other was freezing.)

"Good night," she said softly. "Thanks for walking me home."

"I promised I wouldn't murder you and I guess that means I had to make sure nobody else did either."

It was dark, but the streetlight was illuminating his face just enough for her to see the way his hair moved in the wind. So effortlessly silky and soft-looking. It was so unfair for him to be so mean and so pretty. He didn't deserve it.

"Bye." She started walking to her front door, but then her face lit on fire and she ripped the jacket off. "Oh my God, I almost stole your coat!" She walked back so she could place it back on his shoulders. He just looked at her, unbothered. "Thank you for lending it to me. That was very nice. You kept me very warm. I mean-it kept me warm! Your jacket! Not you! You didn't… I mean, not that you didn't, but that's not what I was talking about!" She forced her gaze away from him. "Bye again." She walked away from him again, but this time with more determination, refusing to turn back to him, even as she opened the door and then closed it behind her.

But she did immediately check out the window to see him slowly begin to walk back down the sidewalk, pulling his arms through the sleeves as if he had all the time in the world.

"Good evening," her father's voice said from behind her. He did not sound pleased.

She turned to see both of her parents in their pajamas.

"Mikan, it's almost midnight," her mom said.

"Who is that boy?" her dad asked. "And why exactly were you holding hands?"


To: Permy, Koko, Hotaru 3, Iinchou 3, Ruka-pyon, Mochu, Tsubasa-senpai 3, Natsume :P

hi guys! its mikannnnnn. u should all come to my house next saturday for a study meet! my dad will make bbq 3 see u there!


It turned out that Mikan's dad wasn't a big fan of Natsume. Not before finding out his name was Natsume and definitely not after.

"That Natsume? The Natsume who bullied you all through school?"

Mikan had no choice but to nod, only to spur her father into a nearly hour long tirade that even woke Jii-chan up. It was safe to say, after that fiasco, that she was grounded for two weeks, with the exception of Aca Dec study meets, though her dad didn't even want to give that as a caveat either, since she'd had to explain that Natsume was on her team now.

"And to think, I'm the one who told you to invite them all to our house!"

Mikan's mother grinned. "How exciting! You're hosting a party!"

That night had been pretty tough on poor Mikan. She'd sent out the text inviting her teammates to her house the next day and she refused to answer any texts from Hotaru about how she'd conveniently forgotten to leave Natsume off the recipient list.

How could she possibly refuse to invite him after he'd walked her home? She couldn't even consider it anymore.

Natsume was going to be murdered either way, it turned out. There was nothing Mikan could do to save him anymore. It was his own stupid fault for holding her hand like that, because he'd held her hand first. If he hadn't done that, she never would've held his, not for anything.

Grounded life moved slower than usual. Mikan was now locked up in her room for hours at a time, practicing her speech to herself or trying to read The Sun Also Rises, only emerging for food or to use the bathroom. Her father was evil, punishing her for something Natsume had done.

School was bothersome, and it was difficult to dodge questions from her best friends about the dinner when Hotaru kept teasing her about the upcoming wedding and Iinchou kept praising her for being the better person, when she certainly wasn't.

A Team had their first speech run-throughs on Thursday, then did it again on Friday, with little practices in impromptu speech and interview in between. Mikan thought she'd be better at Interview than she ended up being, but even her stuttered out answers didn't offend Hotaru as much as the fact that she skipped out on the handshakes at the start.

(But how could she shake anybody's hand when Natsume was on her panel of judges and she couldn't even look at his hand without her face lighting on fire? As soon as she started her practice interview and saw him sitting there expectantly, she knew she wouldn't be shaking anything.)

The real issue, however, was that after the last after-school meet of the week, she'd be hosting one at her house. She went to sleep after running through practice Interview questions and stressing out immensely when she got to Who do you consider to be the most influential person in your life? and she could only think of Natsume.

She did not make the same mistake twice. She dressed very casually the next day, cozy in her Aca Dec hoodie and jeans. Just because her dad made it seem like some kind of party didn't mean it wasn't just like any other study meet.

Her teammates started arriving in the early afternoon, when Izumi had already started preparing the meat and the smell was starting to get to her. Hotaru and Iinchou arrived first, and they didn't hesitate before jumping straight into the studying. Distractions started popping up when Koko and Mochu showed up.

"You said there would be barbecue… I can smell it, but I don't see any," Koko said, making a show of sniffing the air. Mochu cackled but Hotaru was unamused.

"The meat needs to cook. We can't rush an art like that. Sit down and shut up."

"You need to get that stick out of your-"

"If you don't sit down right now, I will shoot you in the head-"

"Yes, ma'am," Mochu said compliantly. Koko sighed but followed suit.

By three, most of the team was gathered in her living room, seated on the couches, reading through the Social Science curriculum and testing each other.

"Am I the only one who doesn't know a single tank?" Sumire said.

"I know all of them!" Tsubasa replied confidently. "I studied that part the most, actually."

"Personally, I'm really struggling with the dates," Mochu confessed. "I get them all mixed up…"

"Oh, I can teach you a handy method to remember them," Ruka offered.

They were all working together, no animosity at all. Just a peaceful Saturday afternoon, studying with friends. A year ago, Mikan would've thought that concept was pretty dull, but now she was enjoying herself. It wasn't so bad, really, and Mikan was starting to forget why she'd been so anxious about it until her doorbell rang again and she realized only one person had yet to show.

Oh, yeah. That's why.

"I wonder who it is," Tsubasa teased.

"He told me he'd bring my notes back today," Ruka said as Mikan stood up.

She ran to answer the door so her dad wouldn't. He was luckily busy in the kitchen and hopefully wouldn't recognize Natsume right away. She just had to not say that name in hearing range of her father. Simple enough.

"Hey!" she greeted once she opened the door.

He was wearing the jacket he'd lent her last week.

She nearly screamed, but held it back just in time.

"Hey."

"Come on in," she said, moving aside so he could walk in and take his shoes off and leave them with the mountain of shoes by the door. All she had to do was quietly escort him into the living room so that he could make it into her house unharmed and give her the chance to warn him about her angry and hateful dad. Unfortunately for her plan, as soon as he was visible from the living room, Koko shouted out, "Yo, Natsume's here! Finally!" which simultaneously made Mikan want to murder all loudmouthed class clowns and shriek in horror, because now her dad wasn't in the kitchen anymore.

And she'd never had the chance to warn Natsume-

"Natsume!" Izumi was saying, pointing at the boy with an accusatory finger. "You're the one who's been harassing my little girl all these years?!"

Mikan winced in embarrassment, but Natsume just blinked. He didn't look nearly as afraid as she figured he'd be. Instead, he sighed impatiently and rolled his eyes.

"I see my reputation precedes me," he said, entirely blase, before turning his back to Mikan's dad and entering the living room. Izumi's eyes were wide with anger and hatred.

Mikan, meanwhile, had to fight off the voice calling her an idiot and moron in her head, the stinging behind her eyes, the churning in her belly.

Of course Natsume was uninterested in making a good impression on her parents. It's not like they were friends or anything. But it seemed unfair, because she'd put a lot of effort into impressing his family. A double standard, though one she should have foreseen.

"I want him out of my house," Izumi told Mikan but she wasn't in the mood to make a scene.

"He's just here to study. You don't have to talk to him anymore. As soon as this is over, you can forget all about him." With that promise, she pushed her dad back into the kitchen. He should have been the one to reassure her now, but nobody ever took her concerns seriously. "We're all hungry so get started on the barbecue, okay?"

She sat back between Iinchou and Tsubasa after that and the group studied diligently, though she couldn't help but get distracted by her sudden bad mood.

"What was the death toll on the Western Front again?" Ruka-pyon was asking.

"It depends on if you're just counting battle deaths or ones from the elements," Hotaru said.

Why had Mikan been worried for him? Had she really thought he'd care what her dad thought of him? It wasn't like he had any intention of coming back here. It wasn't as if Mikan was about to invite him over to dinners at her house, after all. She missed the anxiety and fear she'd felt before she'd opened the door. This inexplicable sadness was much worse.

Izumi announced that dinner was ready with a stilted voice, standing in the doorway to the living room with averted eyes and a miserable frown. Only Yuka's appearance behind him, pulling him aside, was enough to calm him down. Lucky for him. Mikan could not be distracted from her bizarre misery by anything. Not even the promise of delicious food appealed to her anymore.

She trailed behind her teammates, staring at the back of Natsume's head as he piled up his plate with barbecued meats and vegetables waiting in the kitchen. While the rest of the team returned back to the living room to eat, Mikan took her time serving herself. She wasn't in a big rush to return to Natsume and see how little he cared about…

What did he not care about?

What did she want him to care about?

"Do you want some of my chicken?" Natsume asked from behind her, taunting.

Mikan didn't even care about eating anymore. She had been absent-mindedly serving herself, not thinking at all about what she was piling onto her plate. It turned out to be an unproportional amount of carrots next to a little sliver of barbecued pork.

"No," she answered, keeping her eyes on her own plate as she tried to squeeze some other foods next to the carrots.

"What a shame. I thought you loved chicken, and I got way too much."

"Don't talk to me," she hissed, giving up on her plate and pushing past him out of the kitchen. She wasn't hungry anyway.

Upon their resumption of study-time, it was now Natsume's turn to be distracted by her. She could feel his scary red eyes on her, but she was doing a good job not looking back over at him. He didn't deserve the satisfaction.

She knew she was being unreasonable, that she was upset over something that shouldn't matter. Still, she couldn't help but think about how unfair it was of him to expect so much of her when it came to her visit to his house just for him to be so rude to her dad immediately upon entering her house. Of course, her dad was being insufferable too, but couldn't Natsume put even an ounce of effort into being polite? He'd greeted her mom and grandpa without any issue, but her dad was the one who required work and he obviously wasn't willing to put any in.

Why did she even want him to?

Somehow, the team decided they'd studied enough without her even noticing until people started getting up to go home. Hotaru and Iinchou would probably linger the longest, but she didn't expect Natsume to stick around as long as he did.

Ruka-pyon left. Tsubasa left. Mochu left. Permy left.

Koko left.

Iinchou left.

Hotaru left.

Mikan wanted to scream at her best friends to stick around, to not leave her alone with Natsume, but they both insisted. Iinchou's little sister had a dance recital that night and Hotaru didn't want to miss dinner at home even though she'd eaten more barbecue than anybody.

Natsume stayed.

Hotaru closed the door as she left and Mikan was left with this rude jerk who held her hand and got her grounded and then sneered at her dad.

She refused to sit with him in the living room. Instead, she stood in the doorway like her dad had done, crossing her arms and looking at anything but him. "Shouldn't you get going soon? It's getting dark already."

"What's your problem?" he asked. So he'd stayed to confront her. Not even to apologize. "You've been-"

"What have I been?" she snapped, looking at him only so she could send her deadliest glare. "Have I been rude or unfair?"

"Kinda, yeah."

She narrowed her eyes even further because she couldn't say it. She couldn't tell him why he scared her and she couldn't tell him how he'd made her sad. It was all stupid. He'd laugh at her.

"You were a jerk to my dad."

"I had just walked into your house when he started screaming at me," he pointed out reasonably. "What was I supposed to do? Bow?"

"You were supposed to be respectful and polite, like I was with your dad!"

"I was polite with your mom," he said, again perfectly reasonable. "She was nice to me so I was nice to her. My dad didn't scream at you as soon as he saw you, did he? Yours did."

Mikan was fed up with how reasonable and rational and pragmatic and calculated he always had to be. She knew he had feelings deep down. Surely he could at least understand that she had them? That her feelings didn't care about what made sense or what was logical?

"Stop making me seem stupid. Your dad doesn't know about all the stuff we do to each other, but I've told my dad everything about you-"

"I told my dad everything about you too," he insisted. "My dad doesn't hate you because I don't hate you. Obviously your dad can't stand me because you-"

"I don't hate you!" she snapped, only to shock herself into silence.

He must have been shocked too, because he went silent too.

"Shouldn't he be getting home about now?" her dad asked, and she turned around to find him by the front door, pointing angrily toward it.

"Stop being rude, Dad!" she said. Blaming everything on Natsume wasn't fair, though he'd done plenty to hurt her today. Her father's attitude had not helped matters. "Natsume just came here to study and you've been really hostile and ruining the mood."

"After everything he's done to you-"

"It's not your business. It's just a stupid study meet. Honestly, who cares-"

"I'm sorry."

She whipped around at the sound of Natsume's voice. If there's one thing she knew about him, it was that he didn't like to say those words. It almost shocked her more than to hear herself say she didn't hate him.

"I'm sorry for being rude to you," he said to her dad. "Plain and simple. I'm sorry." Then he turned to Mikan. "I'm sorry for all the stupid things I did to you in kindergarten. And all the stuff I did after. I'm sorry you had no choice but to make your dad hate me before he even met me." He paused and then shrugged. "That should be sufficient. Bye." He passed both Mikan and her father and left through the door Izumi was still half-pointing at.

The door closed.

"I don't think I expected that-"

Mikan didn't wait around to let him finish his sentence. She rushed outside, closing the door again. "Natsume, wait!"

He turned to her and raised one of his infuriatingly short eyebrows. "What? Did I forget something? I thought my apology was pretty all-encompassing as is-"

"You've never apologized for any of that before," Mikan said, her smile unintentional. They were standing about a foot apart, and for some reason it occurred to her that it would be really easy to take his hand in hers. "That was really nice. Thank you. Especially for apologizing to my dad."

"Whatever. Dads are unreasonable."

This should have been her turn to apologize, but for some reason those words wouldn't come out. Maybe it was hard for her too.

"Did you want something?"

"You're not gonna be mad at me on Monday?" she asked nervously. She was strangely making it a habit, being afraid of him laughing at her, being mad at her, being bothered by her.

"Why would I be mad?"

"'Cause I yelled at you?"

He smiled, and it forced Mikan to freeze. It didn't look like a smirk at all. It was a real, soft, precious smile. A rarity on par with people coming back from the dead and peace on Earth. "You don't hate me. Why would I be mad about that?" He flicked her forehead and before she could yell at him for it, he was walking away, throwing a half-hearted wave in her direction. "Bye, Polka Dots!"

A familiar voice in her head was getting riled up. If he was still calling her Polka Dots, didn't that mean he wasn't really sorry for all he did after all? It was just words to get Mikan and her dad off his back. Pretty words from a silver tongue and an even prettier face that he didn't deserve.

But that voice was much fainter than a new and unfamiliar voice that was screaming in her head that his smile was the most amazing thing she'd seen in a long time.


Monday came and went, with Hotaru seeming confused by Mikan's strange good mood.

"To think, after all your whining before I left on Saturday, you seem peppy today," she commented at lunch. "And you didn't really tell me what happened with Natsume-kun in your texts."

"I had a nice weekend," Mikan replied, smiling as she ate her lunch. "I slept well and got a lot done."

"Aren't you still grounded?" Iinchou asked. "Is your dad still mad about Natsume-kun?"

"Yep and yep!"

"So what is it you're so cheerful about?" Hotaru asked, her eyebrows furrowing. "What, did Natsume get diagnosed with an incurable disease? Did he get caught in a wind turbine? Did he get arrested for embezzlement? Did he drown at sea?"

"No, he's alive and well, as far as I know," Mikan said and she didn't say any more. She was in a good mood because today was a good day and there wasn't anything to complain about. That's all there was to it. Plain and simple. It had absolutely nothing to do with Natsume, good or bad. Why did everyone assume her moods were based on her latest interaction with Natsume? "Did you know Natsume's really good at Ceramics?"

On Thursday, they practiced Interview again. Hotaru, Mochu, and Natsume were in her group, and she was supposed to be the first interviewee of the day. This time, she was happy to comply with the rules. This time, she pretended to enter and they all stood, their hands expectantly moving at their sides. This time, she shook each hand dutifully with a smile and polite greeting. She ended with Natsume's, switching hands to shake his left, and though his face remained neutral, hers didn't. She smiled at him, her grip on his hand lingering, and said, as pointedly as she could muster, "Nice to meet you."


"He was glad that he had expressed to her, however blunderingly, what he felt. He was glad that he had held her hand." - Iris Murdoch, The Message to the Planet