#ga-party

“This is garbage food,” Hotaru Imai tells the guy in front of her.

It’s 3 in the morning on a weekday and the McDonald’s is almost deserted. Despite the late hour and the lack of customers, the soda machine is humming away in the background and fat is sizzling in the frier. The sounds mix with the splatter of rain on the asphalt outside and the radio the employee has on behind the counter. As far as places to spend the night go, this one doesn’t make it above a one star rating.

“You ordered it,” the guy says matter-of-factly. He’s cleaning the counter, which he’s been doing since she got there five minutes ago and which seems useless given that it’s a fast food place. Hotaru squints at him.

“Isn’t there, like. Quality control? Taste standards? Anything?”

“That Big Mac cost you 3$,” the guy points out.

“Sure, but I could have eaten the trash from outside for less than that.”

The guy sighs. He doesn’t seem too thrilled with her presence, or her comments, or her behaviour in general which is unsurprising. More likely than not, he’s been working this shift for hours now, slowly wasting away behind his counter. It’s the only reason Hotaru bites back another snide comment.

As she finishes the burger in front of her, she studies her inadvertent companion. He’s blond and about her age, with tired circles beneath his blue eyes. Just another student trying to make ends meet, she guesses.

Her meal’s almost gone when he speaks up again and startles her out of her observations.

“I’m sorry if the burger’s bad,” he tells her, almost sheepishly. Hotaru can’t be sure but she thinks she can see the hint of a blush coloring his ears. “I haven’t worked here for long. If you’re used to better food at this location you could issue a complaint, I suppose.”

“I’ve never been here before,” Hotaru tells him. “And I don’t plan on ever coming here again.”

“Oh. Well that’s…,” he trails of. “Why did you come here today, then?”

“I’m saving money on meals so I can buy materials to build a mech.”

“Oooh.” McDonald’s employee sounds genuinely excited for her, which is a surprise. “Like the ones in Pacific Rim?”

“I’m not done designing it yet,” Hotaru tells him dismissively, but the guy is undeterred. For some reason, her answering his question seems to have an invigorating effect on him. She curses herself for giving into the mental image of her best friend that made her try and be kind in the first place.

“That’s fine. Hey, you can show me those designs next time you come here!”

“I told you,” Hotaru says, as she drops the remains of her meal in the trash. “I’m never coming here again.”

She turns to leave. Outside, the rain has lessened but the short walk back to her university will be cold and unpleasant. Still, she needs access to the research there to continue working, so she has little choice. As the door closes behind her, Hotaru can hear the voice of the McDonald’s employee ring out.

“See you!”

What a dork, she thinks to herself.

History will show that Hotaru Imai, sister of Subaru Imai and best friend of Mikan Sakura, brilliant engineer and aspiring millionaire, is a liar. Or, at the very least not a clairvoyant. Be it fate or her continuing lack of money, she finds herself at the McDonald’s again only a few days later.

This time however, she orders Chicken McNuggets. The guy is there again, because they are both stuck in the hellscape that belongs to people who have to be awake at 3 am.

“Did you bring the designs?,” he asks her as way of greeting. Hotaru raises her brows.

“You mean did I bring designs for a mech I am building for a tech competition so I can show them to some random fast food employee I literally don’t know anything about?”

“Yeah,” he says, completely missing her sarcasm. “That’s what I mean.”

“No,” Hotaru says. “And even if I did, I doubt you would understand them.”

He hands her the Chicken McNuggets with a scoff.

“You don’t know that,” he says. “Maybe I’m an engineering student. Or a genius.”

Hotaru takes her food to a side booth not far from the counter, conscious of his eyes following her as she sits down. If he’s mad that she doesn’t dignify him with a reply, he doesn’t say so.

The first bite into the chicken nuggets makes her remember a documentary about food production, where McDonald’s meals were made of a pale, rose colored paste likely filled with flavor enhancers and nuclear waste or something. Her unhappiness must show on her face because her blond companion raises his hands defensively.

“Those come premade,” he says. “So if you don’t like them, I really can’t help you. Besides, everyone loves Chicken McNuggets. I have never seen anyone not love them. Maybe you’re just weird.”

“Or, you know. Used to well prepared food made from great ingredients.”

He rests his head on his hand and stares at her, seeming to fight some internal struggle before giving up and shaking his head.

“You know, I haven’t actually tasted them myself, like ever.”

“If you’re trying to get me to share mine with you, it won’t work,” Hotaru informs him briskly.

Somehow, her reaction makes him laugh and for a second, the stormy night outside seems less cold. Aside from Mikan, it’s rare that people meet her abrasiveness with joy. She doesn’t quite know what to make of it.

“I’m a vegetarian,” he tells her. “And I go to med school. So I’m not touching this stuff with a ten foot pole. Except uh, you know. To prepare it.”

“So you’re not an engineer then,” she observes. “I was right.”

“I could still be a genius, though,” he points out.

Hotaru can’t quite hide her snort at that.

“Are you always this mean?,” he asks her.

“I’m being nice.”

“You’re not doing a great job at it.”

“Well, you’re not doing a great job at being a helpful employee, so I guess we’re even.”

Bickering with a stranger in the middle of the night shouldn’t make her feel better, but somehow it does. Her day hasn’t been great, what with her invention coming together slower than expected and her family’s financial situation continuing to worsen. But when Hotaru walks out of the McDonald’s after eating, he waves at her, casually almost, as though they’re friends. And maybe it’s her constant night shifts or the weird food, but for some peculiar reason, Hotaru has to actively resist the urge to wave back.

Going to McDonald’s becomes a habit and always, the same guy awaits her inside, with a smile on his lips. Except one day. One day, she enters the McDonald’s to find him staring at his phone, not bothering to raise his head to greet her. Outside, snow and city streets have come together to form a wet, grey-ish mush and Hotaru suppresses a content sigh as the heating of the restaurant warms up her icy toes. When she steps closer to the counter, he finally looks up and meets her eyes.

“Hey stranger,” he says.

“A McCoffee and a salad,” Hotaru says, the same time he asks her: “Do you think our menu is bad?”

She blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Do you think our menu is bad?,” he repeats. He gestures to the different food items, all a staple of McDonald’s, all varying degrees of “bad for you”.

“Do you want a subjective opinion or an objective one?,” she asks, dimly wondering why she’s even still talking to him.

“Both.”

“Yes. It’s bad. That’s both my subjective and the objective opinion, in case you couldn’t guess.”

His shoulders slump. With a sigh, he starts getting her coffee and rummages around in the back for her salad. As he works, the fluorescent lights above them flicker, casting strange shadows that bring out tired lines around his eyes. She hasn’t seen him like this before. He’s been annoyed, sure, and tired, but right then he looks...unhappy. It’s unsettling, not because she particularly cares about his emotional state but because he isn't behaving like an employee attending to a customer. He has no intention of hiding how he feels from her, almost like he wants her to know, expects her to care.

She doesn't care. This is the guy who makes her food early in the morning and she does not care. She doesn't.

“What’s up with you?”

“I’m sorry?,” he says, turning towards her. His blond hair is sticking up from his head.

“What’s up with you?,” Hotaru says, annoyed both at having to repeat her words and the fact that she felt compelled to ask in the first place. So much for not caring.

“Apparently this place does worse than the other fast food joints nearby, which means it’s either the people working here who suck or the food. I prefer to think it’s the food, because, well, I personally believe I’m rocking this whole night shift thing.”

“Have you considered that maybe, just maybe, the problem is both?,” she asks him.

“Have you considered that maybe, just maybe, you’re not being helpful?”

He hands her the salad and the coffee and as a sign of quiet protest, Hotaru makes her way to the table furthest from the counter. If this were a usual fast food restaurant instead of one occupied by the human equivalent of a cranky puppy, this would have gained her a few moments of peace.

Alas, Hotaru has learned over her now many weeks of visiting McDonald’s that few things ever go the way she expects them to in this place. So, naturally, he follows her to her booth and unceremoniously slumps down on one of the chairs. Deciding that fighting would be a waste of energy, Hotaru takes a sip of her coffee and sends him her iciest glare.

“I think we need to diversify our menu,” he says. “Do you think that’s even possible? At the end of the day, it’s all up to McDonald’s but if we can be convincing and show them that local customers want something fresh and new, maybe we’ll get more popular.”

“Are you a med student or a chef?,” she asks.

“I’m definitely not a chef but if this place closes I might not get to be a med student either so please, Wise One, help me.”

“Clearly the solution is shrimps. Crabs. Seafood. This is Japan and you’re not even bothering to reflect that? For shame.”

He seems to ponder her words for a few seconds before nodding to himself.

“You know, you might be right. Thanks for the suggestion!”

“Now, for the important part.” She gestures with her hand. “Time for payment.”

“Payment for what?,” he asks, clearly befuddled.

“The business consulting I just gave you.”

“...Do you accept payment in coupons?”

She considers for a second before shrugging. It’s better than nothing and she’s here often enough that it might just come in handy.

He begins writing up the coupon before pausing and raising a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “So, um. Who am I making this out to?”

“Hotaru Imai.”

“Hotaru Imai,” he repeats softly, neatly writing her name onto the coupon before handing it to her. “Mine’s Luca, by the way. Luca Nogi.”

“I don’t care,” Hotaru informs him.

And inwardly, Hotaru promises herself that she really doesn’t care. She doesn’t care that he gets her another coffee without making her pay. She doesn’t care that he watches intently as she sketches a new invention idea into her notebook. She doesn’t care that she spends two hours in the McDonald’s that day, perfecting the designs for her mech surrounded by the stench of frying oil and burgers and the quiet sound of Luca Nogi browsing through a magazine. She doesn’t care.

But she remembers his name.

Hotaru doesn’t win the competition. And it’s not because she isn’t talented or her design isn’t inspired, it’s misfortune, pure and simple. 

That day, she walks into the McDonald’s with her plans in her hand and a frown on her face. As always, he’s waiting for her. Luca doesn’t ask her how it went - sometime in the previous weeks, she told him the exact date of the competition, a piece of information she’d revealed with an ease that still confuses her. But her face must be giving away her emotional state, so he simply hands over a coffee and chicken nuggets.

She grabs them and retreats to the corner booth, with him following. He stays silent as she starts chewing her food with grim intent and more than a little bit of fury. It takes five or more minutes before Hotaru starts to speak, but he waits. Right then, with frustration gripping at her throat and worry clawing at her heart, the feeling of raw gratefulness she feels at his patience is close to overwhelming.

“I didn’t win,” she says. “Because I didn’t hand in my invention.”

Luca leans forward cautiously, perching on his elbows.

“Why not?,” he asks.

She bites into another chicken nugget and stares outside, unwilling to answer right away. There are piles upon piles of text messages on her phone, worried friends asking what happened, how they can help. But she left them unreplied and came here instead. For what? The food? Has she, this whole time, forsaken the other fast food places because McDonald’s is just too damn good?

“This is garbage food,” she declares out loud, echoing her statement from all those months ago. Luca nods serenely.

“You’re right,” he says. “It is.” Pause. “So why didn’t you hand in your invention?”

“Do you know what a scholarship based competition is?”

“If you win, the money goes towards your degree, right?”

“Basically,” Hotaru says, taking a sip of her coffee. “And therein lies the problem.”

A car passes by outside, nothing more than a blur of moving colors, washed out by the rain. It looks sleek, modern, expensive. Unaffordable. Money, Hotaru thinks to herself, money is a curious thing. She can imagine so many uses for it, so many inventions worth spending it on, so many things to buy for herself. A lack of fear, maybe. A certain future. Is that what money buys?

“My father’s company went bankrupt,” she tells Luca, almost absentmindedly, working to make the information seem trivial, not intimate. “It’s not like it’s ever done well, exactly. But it’s done well enough. We had a semi-stable life. But nowadays, people don’t buy the way they used to. Which I guess is fair, right? Why waste the money you do have on ‘Imai’s expert home telephone system’?”

She sighs.

“My father’s company went bankrupt,” Hotaru repeats. “And we needed money to save it, fast. People work there, he works there. So I sold the mech designs to the first buyer who came up. I checked him out, he seems legit. But I couldn’t heggle up the price. I’m getting twenty, maybe thirty for it.”

Luca frowns. “Thirty dollars?” At that, Hotaru snorts.

“I’m not that cheap. Thirty thousand. But that’s about as much as my dad needs. So...I suppose it’s fine. It’s all good.”

He reaches out, almost as though to touch her hand but thinking better of it. Instead, he rests it on the table, his finger almost grazing hers, silently comforting.

“What about your degree?,” he asks. “Can you still pay your student fees?”

Hotaru shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s a private university, so I don’t know if it’s worth it. I might just have to...quit. No way I’ll amass debt and be bankrupt myself in a couple years. I’ll never be able to start my own company if that happens.”

For a while, they’re both silent. Then, he says: “You know, a couple of years ago I got rejected from veterinarian school.”

“I don’t see how this is relevant,” Hotaru informs him. Luca rolls his eyes at her.

“You’ll see. Now, most people don’t know this but vet school is tougher to get into than regular old med school, because you need to be able to work across multiple species, instead of just one. So I applied and got rejected. Sure, I hadn’t exactly done great in High School. Me and my best friend, we...had a bit of an issue with authority, I guess.” He laughs at the memory. “Anyway, I got rejected. I was basically stranded for a year with nothing to do and all my plans just gone and it was scary, right? But that’s when I realized it.” Luca looks at her expectantly. This time, it’s her turn to roll her eyes.

“Alright, I’ll bite. Realized what?”

“That’s if you have no plans, no roads to follow, you can literally be anything. I’d never even thought about med school because I was so, so sure I’d be a vet one day. And then I wasn’t a vet and I...well, I learned that there’s more sides to me than the things I dream about. I volunteered at an animal shelter close to a retirement home and one day I just...wandered over. They were understaffed and I helped them out - just this once, I told myself, just for now - but I stayed. And they let me do medicine, small stuff only. And now...I’m here.”

“A night shift McDonald’s cashier,” Hotaru comments dryly. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

He ignores her. “What I’m saying is - I get that this is scary. Your plans are gone, that sucks, you have no money, that sucks. But you’re brilliant, right? And now you can find ways to be brilliant that not even you could dream up. Maybe that’s not the end of the road but the beginning of one.”

Perhaps it’s his earnestness or his passion for her plans, or lack thereof, but whatever it is, Hotaru finds herself smiling.

“Maybe you’re right,” she admits begrudgingly. Luca grins.

“Now, for the most important part.” He stretches his hand out to her and for a second, just a split second, she wants to take it, before he says: “Payment.”

“I...Excuse me?”

Luca winks at her.

“My business consulting doesn’t come free either.”

Hotaru has a half-second itch to throw a Chicken McNugget at his head, but resists it.

“Tell you what,” she says instead. “I’ll pay you once I’m a millionaire.”

That day, she goes back to her home and tears the mech designs from the walls. Then, amidst the chaos, she starts sketching something new.

Weeks later, Hotaru arrives two hours ahead of her usual time and if she were one for outward displays of emotion, there would surely be a spring in her step. Without preamble, she shoves the design plans under Luca’s nose. He narrowly avoids spilling his Coke all over them.

“Oooh,” he says. “It’s….plans for….something.”

“Remember all those months ago when you pretended to be a genius and/or an engineer who can totally read these plans?,” Hotaru says. “Naturally, I assumed you were telling the truth so I brought them. As you can surely tell, this is the ‘Cleanmaster 3000‘, a fully responsive robot meant to replace all cleaning obligations.”

She points at its mouth. “This fills with water and can be used as an on the go washer, both for clothing and dishes.” Then, its hands. “These have in-built vacuum cleaners, so it can literally sweep away the dust.” Its eyes. “They’ll be equipped with sensors trained to differentiate between normal household object and trash meant to be cleaned away.”

Luca’s eyes have been growing wider and wider throughout her presentation.

“It looks amazing,” he says sincerely. “Though...also expensive.”

“A-ha, and you would think that because you’re an uneducated heathen -” He grimaces at that. “But the ‘Cleanmaster‘ was designed to be made using parts from old cars and machinery. It took me a while to make something good using cheap materials but let’s just say coming to McDonald’s has really helped in that regard.”

“Because...we also use cheap materials to make something good?”

“No,” Hotaru corrects deadpan. “Because you use cheap materials to make something awful, so I could learn which pitfalls to avoid.”

“Point taken.”

“Anyway, if I can sell this for enough money, make waves in the tech world, I’ll either be hired and given a top position or earn enough to work self-employed. Either way, I think cleaning is a universal issue so my cards are good, don’t you think?”

He’s looking at her, not at the plans, and the expression on his face is tender.

“I will freely admit that I’m not an expert engineer after all,” Luca says. “But nevertheless, I think your cards are excellent. I’d buy a ‘Cleanmaster 3000‘. Hell, I’d buy two just to get out of having to clean the toilets in the back.”

“They’ll be out of stock pretty quick,” Hotaru informs him smugly. “So you better place your order fast.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Luca counters. “See, I know the inventor. I feel like she might be able to make something happen here. I did give her business advice once, so she sort of owes me. That reminds me!”

He gets up from their table and disappears in the back for a few minutes. Hotaru folds up her plans and neatly stores them away in her bag. She has duplicates, of course, but that doesn’t mean she wants anyone to steal them. Luca could, she supposes. He’s seen them and McDonald’s has cameras. But somehow, in her heart of hearts, Hotaru knows he has no interest in subterfuge. He’s excited for her success as though it’s his own.

“Close your eyes!”

Hotaru doesn’t heed his command and he pouts at her when he comes out of the kitchen.

“You’re going to ruin the surprise,” Luca warns.

With a sigh and only because she’s in a good mood, Hotaru does as he asked. It doesn’t take long before she can feel cool fingers touch her wrist. His skin is soft and he’s close, she can tell, probably standing behind her, his blond hair tickling her cheek. Still, she keeps her eyes closed. There’s a rustle as he opens something. A box?

“Open your mouth.”

This time, she does open her eyes and turns halfway to stare at him.

“So you can poison me? I don’t think so, Nogi.”

“If I wanted to poison you, I would have done it one of the couple dozen times you were here. Also, you eat McDonald’s like four times a week at this point. You’re basically dead anyway. Besides, don’t you trust me?”  

“Your marketing abilities are truly exemplary,” Hotaru says. But she does close her eyes again and opens her mouth, because he’s right and because as incongruent as it may be, she does trust him.

The first taste of….whatever he places at her lips is rich and reminds her of her mother’s home cooked meals. It instills a sense of belonging in her and Hotaru swiftly reaches up to pluck the food from Luca’s fingers, biting into it once more. It’s good. Not the artificial taste McDonald’s usual provides but actual sea food, crabs if she’s correct, and well prepared ones, too.

“It’s a crab burger,” Luca informs her excitedly. “See, I lobbied McDonald’s and they decided to change their menu. It’s just a special item for now but it’s produced by local companies, I guess because they want to seem more eco-friendly and stuff. But it’s good, right? I mean, I’ve never tasted it but the dayshift says so.”

“It’s good,” she admits. “Definitely not garbage food.”

She finishes the burger in record time and wipes her hands on a paper towel. Luca watches her.

“I guess you’ll be able to afford something better than this once you sell your invention,” he says. His excitement for her is still there, but it’s muted somehow. Regretful. “No need for you to save money on food once you’re a millionaire, huh?”

His words shouldn’t make her feel regretful, too, but they do. For some reason, the thought of never sitting opposite him, of never again eating in the McDonald’s in the middle of the night, makes her sad. Hotaru shoves those feelings down, quickly and efficiently. He’s right, of course. There’s no more reason for her to come here. Their frequent meetings will end, as they were always meant to.

She gets up and grabs her bag. Luca starts picking up the discarded boxes and cups, throwing them away before accompanying her to the door. He opens it for her and bows low.

“I wish you good fortune, Miss Imai,” he tells her.

“And I you.”

With that, Hotaru Imai walks out of the McDonald’s, the door closing behind her with the slightest jingle. She doesn’t look back - there’s no need to, she can see the restaurant in her mind as clearly as a picture. But she feels the echo of his fingers on her wrist and the warmth of his breath on her skin and the way he took all her harsh comments in stride. How strange that she’s come to care about the kind boy from McDonald’s. How strange that something that cost her so little can feel so irreplaceable now, so achingly precious.

Luca Nogi is cleaning the counter when Hotaru Imai returns.

She looks different yet the same, her jet black hair curling around her ears and her purple eyes glinting. She’s wearing what can only be called “business chic” and makes McDonald’s look like the finest restaurant on the block.  

It’s been four months since she’s shown him the “Cleanmaster 3000” and since then much has changed. Well, much has changed for her, or at least he assumes so. She stopped coming to the McDonald’s after that. The “Cleanmaster 3000” was unveiled two months ago to thunderous applause and Hotaru Imai went from a nobody to gracing the title page of the New York Times. As for Luca, he spent his time studying and manning the McDonald’s. Well, and missing her. Always missing her.

But now she’s here, walking towards him with a purposeful stride.

“It occurred to me,” Hotaru says. “That I promised to repay you once I was a millionaire.”

“I remember you saying that, yes,” he replies, feeling slightly dazed and wondering if perhaps the toxic fumes have finally gotten to his head and he’s hallucinating.

“Right.” She’s at the counter now and he knows, just knows that his cheeks are growing red at her close proximity.

“Now, I meant to ask….do you accept payment in coupons?”

It makes him laugh.

“I don’t know, I really don’t want to eat here unless I have to,” Luca says.

“Well, lucky for you this is a coupon for the ‘Harbor’s Treasure’.”

Luca frowns. “That expensive place close to the sea? I mean….yeah, I could eat there.”

He offers her his hand, palm up. Hotaru stares at it for half a second before smirking.

“Oh, I don’t have an actual coupon. I figured I’d just pay for both of us.”

“Hotaru Imai,” Luca asks, stunned. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

She looks at him unflinchingly. “Yes.”

A date. Hotaru Imai, the brilliant, raven haired girl that came into his McDonald’s and made his night shift less lonely has returned to ask him, the guy professionally flipping burgers, out on a date. He puts one hand on the counter to steady himself.

“I don’t know,” Luca says eventually. “I mean, it sounds like you’re trying to weasle your way out of paying me.”

“Oh, I guess if you feel that way I’ll just go on my own and eat twice as much,” Hotaru says casually, getting up from her counter stool as though to leave. He hastily grabs the corner of her coat.

“On second thought,” he says. “I’d be thrilled to accompany you. How about we make it an early morning breakfast? My shift ends in three hours.”

She sits back down. “That can be arranged.”

And so Luca makes her coffee and listens as she talks, about her new job, about her friends, about her family. He tells her about himself, too, how he passed his exams and is saving money for her ‘Cleanmaster 3000‘, how he told his own friends about meeting her, how they didn’t want to believe him. It feels as though only a few seconds have passed when the first rays of sunshine creep into the restaurant, effectively ending his shift.

The girl taking over strolls in ten minutes later, gaping at Hotaru as she does.

“Is that….”

“Yes, here’s the key, see you tomorrow,” Luca rattles off. He grabs his coat and offers Hotaru his hand, for the second time that night. She takes it.

Then, with the other employee watching, he gingerly leans down and kisses Hotaru. She tastes like cheap coffee and sugar and meets his lips with the same purposefulness she does everything else. It makes his heart sing. He worries whether she feels the same way but when he opens his eyes, she can see her smiling up at him and his fear melts away.

“Not too bad for 3$,” Hotaru says softly and Luca laughs.

She doesn’t remember much, but she knows he is her protector. He promised her that and why shouldn’t she believe his words? He was there when she woke, he is there still. He shows her how to use her hands to grasp her surroundings: The wooden floor that leaves tiny splinters in her skin and the metal bars that keep her inside, no, safe. The small bathroom and the shower, her table and her bed. The air is cool, always cool. No fire reaches her skin, no ash tickles her nose. Everything beyond the room and her protector is blurry. Sometimes she reaches for it but always, always there is a wall. But the wall is good, he says. There is no joy beyond the wall. The outside world, he tells her, will not treat her kindly. Sometimes, solitude is protection. She can hear he speaks the truth, the kind of aching, painful truth one cannot learn, only experience. She believes him. He is her protector, after all, and no fire will burn her, no darkness terrify her, as long as he is by her side.

Aoi Hyuuga spots Persona while she’s out buying milk and cornflakes. The night before was rough, as most nights are, lately. She spent a good three hours fighting with Paige about...honestly, she hardly remembers what they were fighting about. Life is strangely cyclical these days. Hours blur together until they become weeks and one argument over their future bleeds into the next. Maybe that’s why she goes out to buy cornflakes - her girlfriend likes them and watching her wolf down three bowls will restore peace to their tumultuous relationship, until the next day at least.

It’s October and the air outside is freezing already, as though winter is stretching out its fingers to have just a little bit more time to wreak havoc. Aoi shivers and burrows her face into her jacket. She’s crossing the street when she sees him. His hair is dark but shorter than she remembers and he’s putting groceries into a car. She’s heard about the whole thing, of course. It’s not like it hasn’t been years since the Elementary School Principal of the Alice Academy in Japan fell and Rei Serio left the school to pursue a better life. But in all those years he never sought her out. Her brother told her Serio got married, had a baby. Back then, her stomach twisted at the thought.

He sees her, she knows he does, even as she tries to hurry into the store. “Miss Hyuuga,” he says.

His voice makes her breath quicken. It’s the same voice, slightly rough around the edges, the same voice she remembers hearing throughout the years she spent living in darkness. Right now, however, shock tints his words and she doesn’t remember that, doesn’t remember him sounding anything less than perfectly in control. She bites down on her lips, anticipating his next words.

“Please, can I...can we talk?”

Aoi pauses in her steps and answers without turning to face him. “I’d rather not,” she says hurriedly, her tongue stumbling over the words. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m busy.”

Three more steps and the doors of the store open. She passes shelves, employees, customers before stopping in between two racks of fruit. Her heart is pounding hard enough to escape from her chest and she can’t quite seem to catch her breath. Aoi lets fear push her down and falls to her knees, the granite floor cool under her legs. He’s just a person, she thinks. Just one person.

She thinks about calling her brother, too, but her fingers won’t listen to her so she leans her head back to look at the ceiling. Above her, fluorescent light bulbs gleam and she stares at them until small dots start dancing in front of her eyes, lets their brightness chase away any lingering memories. Breathing, her therapist taught her, is the most important thing. She breathes for a while, even as her body tells her that she is dying dying dying dead. The panic fades eventually. It doesn’t leave but then it never does. Aoi thinks that maybe it’s just a part of her now - like her bones and her blood and her skin, something life has knitted into her body. She can sense it rising and falling as she goes to buy the cornflakes she came for, incessant tiny waves forever crashing against her mind.

Her brother never quite understands why she chooses architecture as her career. “You would make a great teacher,” he tells her once. “Or a doctor. Something like that.” But architecture offers her the opportunity to make things that will outlive her - buildings that will house humans for decades. After a childhood of leaving buildings behind and burning them down, it feels like absolution to construct them now. Whatever she tore down, whatever was taken because of the fire in her veins, she will rebuild. And the homes that rise up now from the ashes of her own mistakes will be five, no ten times stronger than what came before them. Robustness, that’s what it is about. Nothing fanciful, nothing wasteful, something that will last. “Doesn’t sound like fun,” her brother says. He looks at her with serious red eyes so she forces a smile. “It’s what I want to do,” she tells him. “It’s who I want to be.”

Paige is waiting for her when she unlocks the door to their shared apartment. “Where have you been?,” she demands. There’s an edge to her voice. Aoi stretches out her arm to present the bag she’s carrying. “I got you some cornflakes,” she says, keeping her voice light, her lips curved into a smile. “We didn’t have any left so I thought-”

“You should have told me you were going somewhere,” Paige interrupts. “I called you a dozen times, can’t you at least pick up the phone?”

Aoi slips out of her shoes and hangs up her jacket. “I didn’t hear the ringing,” she answers truthfully. “You know I always keep it on mute.”

Paige’s face twists into a grimace of anger. Inwardly, Aoi sighs. “Look,” she says, trying to sound as calm as she can. “I’m sorry. Let’s not fight, alright?”

“Suit yourself,” Paige hisses. She shakes her head, her reddish curls bouncing up and down as she does, and grabs the bag Aoi’s still holding before stomping off without a word. Aoi can hear her rummaging around in the kitchen and closes her eyes. Breathe, she thinks. Just breathe.

There were days, many months ago, that being with her girlfriend felt less like a chore and more like a blessing. She’d been single for as much as a year at that point, watching from the sidelines as her brother got engaged to his long-time girlfriend. Her own previous relationship had imploded - she’d loved Ahn, but her ex had been so independent that it was difficult to hold onto her in a romantic way. Paige was the complete opposite: Ready to move in with Aoi, ready to settle down. Stability. Until she switched jobs and started coming home tired and irritated, filled with stories about an industry Aoi knows nothing about.

Maybe this is normal, she tells herself as she walks up the stairs to her laptop. The endless repetition, the dullness, the fighting. As much as the arguing exhausts her, at least she knows Paige won’t leave. Aoi can’t exactly say the same about anyone else in her life. Natsume may always manage to come back, but that doesn’t change the fact that he disappears all the time, dropping of the face of the earth to save the world with his friends. He has their mother’s blood, her spirit, Aoi thinks.

She isn’t made for saving the world. She just wants to have her relationship, her home, her job. She’s an architect, mostly responsible for making structural plans for factories and it’s good, honest work. Every time she presents her clients with a plan, their smile makes the geometry and endless planning worth it. Well, almost. Lately not even her job has made her smile. Factories are...robust, redstone and metal, but they’re not places people live in. Still, they’re what her firm specializes in and being self-employed is too high a risk to take.

But when she checks her laptop after getting upstairs, she doesn’t immediately delete a mail her brother forwarded her, about some rich guy looking for a freelance designer to draw up plans for his new home. The guy seems to want a lot, perhaps more than any architect can give him. He is well-known, so any architect who does give him what he wants can expect much needed exposure.  Aoi leans back in her chair. Above her head, the first building plans she ever made are pinned to the ceiling. They are...ambitious, a colossus of sturdy metal and glass. They got her into her desired architecture program, they got her this far. She looks back down to read the email again. “Free-standing, ambitious, cutting edge” it says.

“Sounds like anyone but me,” she mutters to herself and pushes her chair back to get up. But as she walks downstairs, the words echo in her mind and her fingers itch for a pen. Maybe, her mind whispers, maybe, maybe. It won’t quiet down, not even as she sits down next to her girlfriend, not even after the two of them watch a sitcom in awkward silence. Maybe, maybe, this is something she can do.

Her father is the one who convinces her to see a therapist. He says her weight loss worries him, almost as much as the way she never quite laughs with her eyes anymore. He doesn’t make her tell him what’s wrong, but he does tell her about her mother, how she was beautiful and strong but sometimes felt so sad and lost that she didn’t care about life or love or her future. The therapist talks to her about the fear monster, which is what she has started to call the lingering memories from her time at the Academy, talks to her about her dreams for her life and her job. It doesn’t fix everything but it helps, the same way turning on the light helps one find scattered items on the floor. At the same time, it makes Aoi’s skin crawl. Why does she need help? Has the school damaged her so badly, has it made her weak? Or, even worse: Was she weak from the start?

“How do you feel about today’s fight,?” her therapist asks her. Aoi shrugs. She’s sitting on the leather couch in her therapist’s office. The sun is shining through the trees outside, throwing leaf-like shadows onto the wall. It’s a peaceful day, far too peaceful to discuss the intricacies of her relationship.

“It was the same as all the other fights,” she says. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” Her attempt at a hopeful smile clearly falls short, because her therapist raises her brows.

“That may be true, but do you want to figure it out?”

Aoi frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Are you happy, Aoi?”

“Sure I am,” Aoi says, the answer more a reflex than the truth. “I love my girlfriend, this is just a rough patch.”

Her therapist nods. “I see. It just seems as though every day, she does something that upsets you. Sometimes people just aren’t compatible. It’s not weakness to walk away from someone who isn’t right for you.”

“What we have between us is good,” Aoi insists. She fiddles with her thumb. “Once we’ve put this behind us, we might even get married. Why not, we already have an apartment. You know, my brother was engaged when he was my age.”

“Why is it you want to get married? Why do you want a life with her?”

“Well, I love her. Obviously.”

Her therapist’s questions are starting to make her uncomfortable and Aoi glances at the clock. There’s still ten more minutes before the session is over.

“Look, does it really matter why I want to get married?,” she says impatiently. “It’s the normal thing to do.”

Normal. She stares at her therapist, who is now wearing a quiet, almost expectant smile. Normal. Is that a reason to want to be with someone? Aoi doesn’t know, but it’s certainly better than the void she slipped into during some of the months she spent being single. The darkness then was almost as bad as the darkness in the Academy’s cage, only it whispered even crueller things into her ears and took away all her motivation. She couldn’t even make herself get out of bed in the morning, let alone do her job. Compared to that, compared to the things she has experienced, her daily fights are a walk in the park and marriage, God, marriage seems like heaven.

“Do you think you deserve no better than that?,” her therapist asks. “No better than a relationship with someone you don’t really get along with? Do you think you won’t find anything in the world that makes you happier?”

Happiness, a loaded word. Aoi was happy once, the innocent kind of happy only children can really feel. And she still is happy now, in some ways at least. She is happy when she sees her brother and his fiancee, her childhood friend Luca, she is happy when she sees the lives they have built. She is happy when she finishes a project.

“I am happy,” Aoi says out loud. The words feel hollow in her mouth.

When she climbs into her car after her session, Aoi feels strangely lonely, so she does what she usually does when that particular emotion creeps up on her. She dials her brother’s number, puts him on speaker and starts her drive home. He picks up after the first ring.

“What’s up?,” Natsume asks.

“Oh you know,” she says. “Just so bored that even talking to you seems preferable to doing nothing.”

Natsume laughs. “Yeah right.”

“Hey, have you picked a wedding venue?”

His audible groan makes her smile.

“Please, don’t you start, too. Luca and Mikan have decided that planning weddings is their calling or something and they won’t stop pestering me about it. I want one second of peace. Just one second! Can’t a guy have at least that?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, Mr. Groom-to-be,” she teases gently. “It is your wedding, after all.”

“If it were up to me, we’d get married a week from now in Imai’s workshop or something. But that sadistic witch won’t let me,” he complains. For a while, they're both silent as she weaves her way through the traffic. Eventually, he asks: “Hey, are you ok?”

“I saw Persona today. I mean, Serio. Whatever.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“No,” she says. “I was...busy.”

“Oh,” he says. Again, silence stretches between them. Aoi gnaws on her bottom lip. She can practically hear her brother’s worried thoughts pile up inside his head. She realizes that although they both know Rei Serio, they know different versions of him. She knows the man who trapped her yet treated her with kindness. He knows the man who kidnapped his sister and hurt him and his friends.

“How can you stand to even look at him?” The words burst out of her unwillingly.

“I don’t know,” Natsume answers. She overtakes another car and stops at a red light before he answers. “I guess one day I just looked at him and realized that hating him would never make me a better person. Part of me will always feel those feelings but...he saved Mikan. I can’t ignore what he did to you but I can’t ignore that either. He seems like he’s trying to change and he better be because if he ever hurts anyone ever again, I’ll kill him.” She knows her brother well enough to understand he’s serious. “But until then,” Natsume continues. “Until he hurts someone, I’ll let him be. Let him try to be better, I guess.”

Aoi is still pondering his words when she pulls into her driveway.

“Hey….Do you have his number?,” she asks before she can stop herself.

“I...Yeah. Mikan gave it to me. Why?”

“Tell him to meet me,” Aoi says. “Tomorrow morning, at the Starburst cafe. Tell him not to be late.”

“Alright,” Natsume says. “I will. Love you, sis.”

“I love you, too.”

And she does, even more than she already has, loves him so fiercely it makes her smile despite her thudding heartbeat. Perhaps some of her mother’s liquid fire courage is finally stirring inside of her, or maybe it’s just the craziness her brain can never quite shed, but whatever it is, it’s pushing her forward, pushing her to meet the man who shaped her past.

Everything comes back to her after her brother frees her. Colors, feelings a sense of purpose. But he sends her away after a few precious days and she feels lost. Her Alice is still gone and the darkness may have a different form now but it’s still there. She makes her father leave the lights on when he tucks her in before sleep, because she is afraid of waking up in the middle of the night and feeling helpless once more. The children at school smile at her and they don’t ask questions. She is thankful and smiles back, thinking that maybe this could be a new beginning. Freedom is exhilarating and wonderful and more, much more than she could have imagined. She dreams of her brother and her mother, of seeing them again. Time, she believes in her heart, will bring all of them together one day. For a while the fear vanishes entirely, but then her brother dies and it flares up, blazes like a flame. Freedom is cruel and terrifying and more, much more than she can handle.

They meet in a small cafe. He’s already there and she can see him through one of the windows, sitting at a table for two and staring straight ahead. For just a few seconds, Aoi wants to turn and and leave. It would be the easy thing to do, it would make the panic disappear again, for a few moments at least. The life she has now, the life she has built, has survived without Rei Serio’s interference. She doesn’t need a resolution to this story, never has. But her reflection in her car window looks back at her through big, deep red eyes and she remembers her mother, beautiful and fierce, the mother she has never known but who maybe, just maybe, is just as alive inside of her as the fear is. Aoi gets out of her car, grabs her keys as tightly as she can and walks forward.

He raises his head when she enters. The shock is back except this time she’s familiar with it. When she sits down on the other side of the table, she scoots back with her chair back, widening the space between them. “So,” she says. “What did you want to say?”

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Serio says. He glances at the gap between her and the table and then up to meet her eyes. “I don’t think I would have, if I were in your position.”

“Well, we’re not the same person,” Aoi says forcefully. All the words she has swallowed before, all the thoughts her session with her therapist has reawoken spill forth now. The smile she usually wears feels impossible to accomplish and so she lets kindness drain from her features as she presses her shaking fists into her legs. She forgets to breathe, lets the anxiousness wash over her, lets her feelings carry the words out of her mouth.  “We were never the same, you and me. I don’t care what happened to you, what sadness they put you through. You took my life and you twisted it around and you had no right to do that, none.”

Her voice becomes louder with each word and a waiter approaches their table. She waves him off with one impatient gesture before focussing on her companion once more.

To her surprise, Rei Serio nods. “You’re right,” he says. “I don’t expect forgiveness for the things I have done. I just wanted to-”

His words are interrupted when his phone starts ringing. The paleness of his skin makes it easy to spot his embarrassment as his ears go slightly red. He peeks at his phone screen and curses softly under his breath. “Do you mind if I….” He gestures towards his phone. Aoi shrugs.

“Go ahead,” she tells him.

With a grateful nod, he picks up. Immediately, as though someone flicked over a switch, the anxiety disappears from his face and a hint of a smile lifts the corners of his mouth.

“Nobara,” he says, “Are you ok?”

His wife, Aoi thinks. The girl who somehow fell in love with a guy who hurt children, who threw them in a cage and lied to them. She doesn’t understand it, their relationship, doesn’t understand how anyone could just forget the blood on Rei Serio’s hands. But her former captor seems so non-threatening all of a sudden, so hopelessly smitten. It’s a startling transformation that reminds her of the way her brother looks at the people he loves. He, too, is lethal in a fight but there are more sides to him than the death she knows he has rained down upon others. In front of her, Serio laughs and Aoi averts her eyes. He never used to laugh when he visited her in her cage. Back then, his voice was heavy and the smell of death clung to his skin. Everything he had witnessed as a child, the horrible things her brother told her about, had twisted him into a monster.

“Does she make you better?,” she asks, after he has finished his call. The question surprises him.

“Yes,” he says, quietly at first and then again, adoration tinting every word. “Yes, she does. But...not in the way you think. She tried to change me, yes, but she did more than just that. She loved me enough to believe I could change. Like maybe all the bad things weren’t what had to define my life, like I could chose to be more than what happened, even after...even after everything.”

“I see,” Aoi says. The gap between the table and her chair lets her see her own hands. They’re laying on her legs, fingers outstretched, palms relaxed. Somewhere in between entering the cafe and listening to Rei Serio talk, fear released its grip on her heart. “Why did you come?”

“I wanted to tell you….I’m sorry. All those months you had to spent in that cage, they’re on me. If I’d been a stronger man, a braver one, I could have gotten you out. But I only ever knew the darkness as a protector. I thought… I thought it might protect you, too. From me and the school and the whole damn fucking mess that was being an Alice back then. But as you said, we’re not the same person. Far from it. You were smart enough to take the hand that tried to save you. It took me a lot longer to do the same.”

“I don’t forgive you,” Aoi says. It feels important to make that clear, to make him realize that understanding him doesn’t erase the past, just puts it into perspective.

“I don’t expect you to,” Serio clarifies. “I just wanted...I wanted you to know that you were never to blame for that fire, or the cage, or your blindness. You never walked into that darkness by your own volition, I pushed you in.”

“I know,” Aoi counters almost automatically. Of course she knows. Right? Of course she has never spent the entire night imagining all the people who got hurt in that town fire or those many many months she never once tried to escape from her cage. Of course she never agonized over her own weakness and wondered how much faster her brother would have gotten away from Persona. Of course she knows. She breathes in and out and looks at him, her heated emotions replaced with pity.

“I never want to see you again,” Aoi tells Rei Serio.

He nods mutely. She thinks that this might be what endings feel like.

She feels lost when she isn’t in a relationship. Before, her father was always there but now she’s living alone and it makes her feel frail. It becomes harder and harder to stay positive, to keep going. Then, one day, she sees a girl with dark hair and dark eyes. They meet, they talk, they fall in love. It’s overwhelming and crazy and life-changing but the girl is like a bird, always ready to take flight and Aoi wants nothing more than for her to stay stay stay. The girl doesn’t want to stay and suddenly Aoi is alone again. She finishes her degree, she starts working. Possibilities are endless, are a chasm opening up in front of her to swallow her whole. She takes the first job she is offered and immerses herself in it. This is right, she tells herself. This is a great opportunity. This is who she is now, even if it feels nothing like the girl she was before and nothing like the girl she set out to be.

They part ways soon after that but she doesn’t go back to her car right away, instead opting to take a walk in a nearby park before sitting down on a bench. Rei Serio is a different man. It doesn’t change the fact that a long time ago, he was a bad one, but it does make her question other things. Perhaps it is possible to shed her skin. Perhaps it is possible to leave the familiar form of her body behind, to slip out of it like one would slip out of a dress and become something, become someone new.

At home, Aoi pulls her first architectural plans from the wall and stares at them. She’s been doing this job for years now and so she can spot all her small mistakes, her miscalculations, the moments where she got lazy. Still, something about the building is magical in the way only beginnings can be. It reminds her of her university days, of meeting her first girlfriend and sneaking kisses from her between classes.

“Free-standing, ambitious, cutting edge”. She picks up a pencil and turns the plans upside down. Her old drawings are still visible but less defined, not a finished product but the first buds of a new idea. Kneeling in front of her plans, she starts drawing. The metal is replaced with wood but she keeps the glass. Aoi draws a building that is floating, balancing walls of windows on poles of wood. One forest fire and the whole thing would come down, she thinks, and the thought makes her feel giddy not scared. She adds steel to the wooden poles, a hidden core of strength. She wants a building that both blends into its surroundings and enhances them, something that looks time and obscurity in the eye and gives both a defiant middle finger.

Her dark hair falls into her forehead, her fingers become smudged and her back hurts. But the house she is building keeps growing, takes on a life of its own. It isn’t a factory, it’s not made to be sturdy but it’s strong in structure as well as in character. Being blind for a few months has granted her the ability to feel materials as well as see their beauty, and now she can imagine it all, the coolness of the steal and the smoothness of the polished wood, the warmth of the sun shining through the enormous windows. The house is new and good and it has character, spirit, a genuine fire her other houses lacked.

Steps on the staircase make her turn around. Paige is there, her hair still tied back from a long day at work. She looks tired and for the first time Aoi wonders whether perhaps her girlfriend dislikes the fighting just as much as she does, dislikes what they’ve become and how they’ve trapped one another in a tight ball of expectations and fear.

“Hey,” she says tentatively.

“Hey,” Paige says. She stares down at the plans on the ground before sinking to the floor to sit next to Aoi. “You’re building something,” she says, less question, more statement of a fact.

“Yes,” Aoi says. “It’s a design for an architecture competition. Do you like it?”

Paige stares at it for a while.

“It’s beautiful,” she says eventually. “I didn’t know you wanted to design houses like that.”

“Me neither.”

They sit next to each other and Aoi scoots over until she can slip her hand into her girlfriend’s. The skin feels strange to her, unfamiliar.

“I think….I think this is over,” she says at length.

It’s strange that the words come to her now, when they aren’t fighting or yelling at each other. It’s almost peaceful to sit next to Paige, to feel the warmth of her body. But it isn’t romance, not anymore. Maybe the lack of anything between them is something only silence could reveal or maybe Aoi has seen it the whole time but really was too scared to search for something better.

“Yeah,” Paige says. She looks down at their clasped hands, squeezes them once and lets go. “I think so, too.”

They end up not having to fight over who gets the apartment. Paige owned it before they got together, it’s only fair she gets to keep it now. Aoi packs her things and leaves. It’s early morning so she drives to a copy shop to scan her design blueprint before forwarding it to the rich guy’s address. Then she climbs back into her car and drives two hours to her brother’s house.

He opens the door after the first knock and doesn’t seem all that surprised when he sees her belongings in boxes. He just picks them up, carries them into his home and then turns around to hug her.

“Hey, sis,” Natsume says.

“Hey idiot,” Aoi answers.

She falls asleep next to him that night, nestled between him and Mikan and it’s the best sleep she has gotten in months. Aoi doesn’t end up staying with them long, only two weeks or so. The money she receives when the rich guy tells her he wants to commission her to design his house is enough for her to rent out a small apartment, one filled with no one but her. She quits her job, too, and it’s easier than she expected. At night, she still sleeps with her lights turned on and sometimes the emptiness of her apartment is a terrifying thing.

Sumire Shouda just knew something was going to go wrong today. After all, a day spent with Koko always went wrong. With his insensitive jokes and his over-the-top pranks, the girl wondered why she even agreed to date Koko. The girl twirled her green, curly hair as she let out a sigh – just thinking about him made her feel all pissed. She looked around to find a grandfather clock showing the time. It was precisely 11.30 AM. Koko was very late. Sumire knew that her boyfriend always had a thing for being late – but not this late. They promised to meet up in the café at 10 o’ clock. She rubbed her hands together, feeling a cold wind flying in through the window. Her once filled glass of coffee is now left empty in the table before her. All she could hear was the chatter of people around her and the clock ticking. A ring through the door – she immediately turned her head, hoping it was Koko… It wasn’t. Disappointment and rage both welled up inside of her. That was it. She stood up, took her coat and gloves, and headed out.

At the moment she opened the door, she bumped into a familiar figure. “Mikan?” The girl she called looked at her and gave a huge smile, “Permy! I was looking for you!” Sumire huffed – she never liked being called Permy, but she decided to ignore it this time. “Why were you looking for me?” The hazel-eyed girl took a card out from her bag and gave it to Sumire with a sad look in her face. “Koko passed this to me. He said that something came up and he can’t come. He’ll make up for it next time.”

Shock. Rage. Sadness. Disappointment.

“Is he serious?!” Dark green eyes opened wide with anger. The girl opposing her could only look down with guilt. Sumire knew that she shouldn’t blame it on Mikan, so she just took a look at her, and left quietly – tears of frustration flowing down her face. She looked down to see the card Koko passed on to her. The cover says, “4 out of 5 people spend Christmas day with their loved ones <3” She opened the card to find Koko’s messy handwriting spelling out, “Merry Christmas, five!” Sumire could only stand there. She couldn’t believe it. He finds the idea funny. Sumire took a look at her surroundings - no one she knew was around. She then sat on a bench by the sidewalk and broke down. The girl always had a strong will. She barely cried. But… This time… It was the last straw. All her pent up anger, disappointment, and frustration, slipped out of her as she clenched her teeth together trying not to cry. She knew calling Koko and getting mad at her would be useless… How many times has he brushed her off with a sorry, then an inconsiderate joke?

In the blur of her tears and her face being covered with her own messed up hair, she suddenly felt herself being lifted up and looking straight into a very familiar pair of brown eyes she has learned to love.                                                            

Surprise. Joy. Anger. Happiness?

Sumire was mad. How dare Koko do that to her? Curses filled the air as she simply glared at her boyfriend. “I’m sorry… I just wanted to shock you, Perms~”

It's an ordinary Saturday morning. Natsume Hyuuga is doing what any other seventeen-year-old male would be doing at this time: lying on the sofa, flipping through his manga, and generally enjoying the momentary quiet.

  But of course, the peace never lasts long, because it's Alice Academy and the term "peace and quiet" simply does not exist. "Natsume," a familiar voice calls, "I'm coming in." The door swings open before he can reply.

  Natsume sighs at the sight of his girlfriend marching into his room with a determined expression on her face. That expression is familiar, this situation is familiar, and it never ends well.

  "No," he says before she reaches the sofa. Her eyebrows crease into a frown, and Natsume is momentarily distracted by how cute she looks when she's angry. The slip of his guard is subtle, but Mikan immediately hones in on the telltale signs with hawklike precision: the ever so slight softening of his gaze, the parting of his lips, the way he stops pretending to flip through his manga.

  She knows him too well.

  That little slip is all it takes. Mikan smiles sweetly at him, widening her eyes very slightly. He shifts uncomfortably in his sofa, and she grins inwardly.

  "But, Natsume," she says with a pout, "you haven't even heard me out yet." Ever so casually, she slides onto the sofa next to him, very deliberately pressing her thigh against his.

  A few years ago, he would've turned her down flat and set fire to her hair. But the years have mellowed out the hot-blooded teenager, and he merely rolls his eyes as he slips an arm around her, pulling her closer.

  "Talk, then," he says, as though he's not at all bothered by their proximity. Mikan smiles.

  "Well, you know, a lot of people have been asking about how we met, and stuff," she begins casually, settling comfortably against his torso. He begins to absently play with her braid as she continues, "which is no surprise, since like we're both members of the Student Council, so everyone knows us."

  He nods and holds back a small smile at the memory of them both being voted into the Student Council: him as the representative of the Dangerous Abilities, and her as the Special Ability class representative. She'd been all smiles that day, dancing around the cafeteria with her Special Star badge, triumphantly announcing to anyone who would listen – and especially him, despite how much he’d proclaimed that he didn’t care – that she was a Special Star now, ha!

  It'd been absolutely adorable.

"-- but it's so awkward telling people about how we met. I mean, telling them my current boyfriend pinned me down to a sofa, tried to burn my hair, ripped off my underwear and escaped through the window? So not romantic."

  Natsume frowns, his sentimentality beginning to dissipate. "I told you I was sorry."

  "I know you are, silly." Mikan smiles beatifically at him, reaching up to brush the hair out of his eyes. The warmth of her fingertips makes his skin tingle, and almost involuntarily, his eyes slide shut.

  "It's just, you know," Mikan continues, her fingers dropping to trace little circles on his upper arm, "it's uncomfortable telling people about my underwear getting ripped off, you know? Especially the guys."

  His eyes snap open. "What?"

  Mikan laughs. "Isn't it? So I was thinking," she pauses for dramatic effect, "we come up with a cover story, of sorts."

  Suspicion flickers in the back of his mind. "What do you mean?"

  A glint of mischief comes into her eyes. "Well," Mikan says casually, "basically, we just make something up. A fake first meeting, so as to speak."

  A year ago, Natsume would've rolled his eyes and refused outright. But now he simply grins and leans back, his manga completely forgotten. "Like what?" he teases. "Once upon a time, there was a very handsome and cool guy called Natsume Hyuuga, and some vaguely cute idiot named Mikan Sakura."

  "Hey!"

  "What?" Natsume hums, perfectly innocent. "I called you cute, didn't I? Anyway, they first met after the girl transferred, under a Sakura tree."

  "The boy was reading his manga like his usual boring self," Mikan says with a playful prod at her companion's shoulder, "when the very attractive and awesome girl showed up. On account of them both being partners, the boy was supposed to take her to Central Town and show her around."

  "Being a kindly and helpful young gentleman," Natsume joins in, ignoring Mikan's loud scoff, "he of course agreed at once. The first place they went was the dessert shop, where the very nice, polite, generous --"

  "Humble," Mikan interjects. He tugs at her braid, earning an indignant shove before continuing, "-- and not to mention viciously charming Natsume Hyuuga bought her a slice of chocolate cake because it reminded him of the colour of her eyes and the sweetness of her smile." He smiles angelically at Mikan, who rolls her eyes.

  “After they finished with the meal – which, by the way, he paid for completely out of his own pocket –”

“They decided to go for a walk in Central Town,” Mikan chimes in. “And near the end of the date, the girl came up with the very adorable idea of going to the photo booth, which the boy, despite his rather disagreeable personality, of course had to comply with given –”

“The fact that the girl simply would not shut up until he agreed, being rather annoying. And pretty,” Natsume amends, smiling winningly at his girlfriend, who merely rolls her eyes.

   “After the devastatingly handsome boy had allowed the ridiculous little girl to engage in her strange whims, they came across a Howalon store, where the girl, with her questionable taste, went into transports of delight upon seeing the nauseatingly sweet and terribly unhealthy snack.”

  "And after that, I'm sure, he proceeded to buy out the entire stock of the Howalon store because he knew it was her favourite," Mikan says dryly. Her boyfriend nods sagely.

  "Of course he did. And not to mention the flowers --"

  "And after that," Mikan interrupts, "the girl decided to take him to the nearest park, admire the romance and beauty of nature, where they watched the sunset together."

  Natsume smirks. "As the sun set on the horizon, the boy looked deep into her eyes, took her hands in his, and said, 'Mikan Sakura, even though you're annoying and have terrible taste in underwear patterns, I think I like you.' And the girl, who had significantly better taste in men than in underwear patterns, of course professed her love as well and they lived happily ever after. The end."

  Mikan laughs and leans over to place her head contentedly on his shoulder. "Don't kid yourself, Hyuuga. You know you love my underwear patterns."

  "I'd prefer if you weren't wearing them at all, actually -- ow!"

  :.:

  "And that," Mikan finishes triumphantly, "is how we met." Natsume nods seriously beside her, and the thirteen-year-old frowns.

  "I don't know, Sakura-san. Your story doesn't seem very realistic."

  Koko and Kitsuneme, who are unashamedly eavesdropping on the conversation, snort loudly in unison. The girl continues thoughtfully:

  "I mean, I don't think Hyuuga-san would do something as awful as make fun of your underwear patterns."

  Silence.