Table of Contents

Color Gallery

Table of Contents Page

Title Page

Copyrights and Credits

Characters

Foreword

Loss 1: Nukumizu Kazuhiko of Class 2-C

Intermission: Stranger Danger

Loss 2: It’s Complicated

Intermission: Let There Be Midnight Snacks

Loss 3: It Takes a Thief

Intermission: Sweet Tea

Loss 4: Shiratama Riko Strikes Back

Epilogue: Shiratama Riko of Class 1-F

Birds of a Feather Balk Together

Afterword

About the Author

Newsletter

Color Gallery

Characters

Foreword

Foreword

EYES. SO MANY EYES. HUNDREDS OF THEM. ALL crammed into the Tsuwabuki gymnasium like sardines and trained on the dork up on stage.

I gripped the mic stand and gulped. Yanami and Komari flanked me on both sides. “We’re the, uh, literature club. We read books. And stuff. And write things sometimes.”

The new first-years listened quietly, not because I lacked impact, but because we Tsuwabuki High Schoolers were well-mannered like that. A cut above the rest. This was their orientation, after all. Yeah, that was it.

Komari was up next. I glanced at the tiny girl twiddling her thumbs at my side. Our vice president had come a long way, and I had full confidence in her ability to nail this.

She nodded, then promptly scuttled behind me. Betrayed.

“Say your line,” I hissed at her.

“I-it’s yours now.” She clutched my blazer with trembling fingers.

I had foreseen this possibility, of course, and so cleared my throat. “We, err, upload what we write on Bungou ni Narou. Sometimes print them into anthologies or journals and, uh, yeah.”

Another flawless showing, if I could say so myself. Next was our club’s secret weapon—“secret” because she was a danger to society and “weapon” because, well, she was a danger to society—Yanami Anna.

She reached into her pocket, pulled out a piece of paper, and robotically began to read. “Soba dog: five stars. Can never have too much yakisoba. Highly recommended. Ogura sandwich: five stars. Cheap and can never have too much anko. Highly recommended. Cream—”

“Yanami-san,” I interrupted. “What are you doing?”

“Whuh?” She blinked, then started digging through her pockets in a panic. “Sorry, wrong one! Nukumizu-kun, where’s my script?”

“What am I, your secretary? And stop littering!”

Wrappers fluttered from Yanami’s person, one after the other. Of all the people to have stage fright, she was the last girl I’d expect.

As I scurried to clean up after her, I sensed a dark, ominous presence. I looked up. An anomaly stood in the wing. A girl in a track uniform and a bag on her head was (presumably) staring this way. What the actual hell was Yakishio doing? She did some light stretches, then crouched down.

No. She wouldn’t…

That bag on her head blinded her. Her position was all wrong. If she rocketed off like that, this comedy would become a tragedy real fast.

“Yakishio, sto—”

Yakishio did not stop. On the contrary, my words were her starting pistol. She rocketed off just as I feared she would, no doubt with the intention of coming up to the mic to give her introduction. What actually ended up happening, though, was she barreled straight into me, sending us tumbling over.

Gasps and shouts filled the gym. The mic fell right in front of me. I reached out and grabbed it.

“We meet after school in the west annex! First floor! Come see us, thanks!”

When the harsh, ear-splitting feedback keen died, only silence remained. Real polite bunch, these kids.

Loss 1: Nukumizu Kazuhiko of Class 2-C

Loss 1:
Nukumizu Kazuhiko of Class 2-C

A WEEK AFTER THE NIGHTMARE THAT WAS FIRST-YEAR orientation, my mind was wandering. Classes had ended and homeroom was all that stood between us and freedom. I had to go straight to the club. Recruiting season was just about over.

Yes. Already.

“Not good,” I grumbled, eyes turned up toward a new ceiling I was quickly becoming accustomed to complaining to. The lit club had welcomed a whopping zero visitors, and today was the last chance we had at getting any.

“I’ll say. You don’t look so hot.”

“We’re just a little hard up for members is all.”

Ayano Mitsuki. His story: Stuff happened with Yakishio. Nothing came of it. He was still denser than a ton of bricks.

“I can’t say I’m surprised after the reputation you made for yourselves at orientation,” said a short, honestly kind of effeminate boy. Sakurai Hiroto, student council treasurer, came up to stand next to Ayano. We’d become classmates now that we were second-years.

“Reputation? What kind of reputation?” I asked.

“The, uh, good kind. Don’t worry about it.”

Nothing like a sweet, white lie to fuel the escapism. I admired Sakurai-kun’s kindness, but the reality was we hadn’t gotten a single interested party.

“But if we don’t get a fifth member, the whole club’s getting axed.”

“Didn’t you only have four at one point last year?” Ayano pointed out.

“Clubs won’t be disbanded so long as they have at least one first-year among their members,” Sakurai-kun answered. “It’s basically a pity measure, so brand-new students aren’t left without a club as soon as they’ve joined one.”

Not particularly relevant for our current situation. The lit club needed any member, period, or we were toast. But this wasn’t all on me. They had some part to play in this crisis.

I looked askance at the girls across the room. Yanami and Komari. The former hung over the latter from behind, like a human jacket, while she chatted with one Himemiya Karen. Komari did not appear pleased with this arrangement, but she was doing a lot better than she would have at the start of the semester. Fewer split ends. Like a fish learning to swim in a new pond, she’d acclimated.

Yakishio, unfortunately, was the odd one out. We never talked much last year, but not having her around felt like a bit of a shame. Especially after we’d only just barely managed to hang onto her after that ordeal with the race. Ultimately, I didn’t presume to call us any closer than when it all started, but I knew one thing for sure—she wasn’t hesitating anymore. She’d been going full speed ahead ever since.

I only paid half attention to Ayano’s and Sakurai-kun’s ongoing conversation. Before long, the door opened, and in came class 2-C’s homeroom teacher: social studies specialist Amanatsu Konami. Whose face I was becoming a little too familiar with at this point.

She rose to her podium and clapped her hands. “Butts, meet chairs. Time to get to business.”

The class trudged to their desks. They’d learned—it hadn’t taken long. But believe it or not, Amanatsu-senpai did not launch into one of her usual tirades. She was in good spirits these days.

Sensei finished jotting announcements on the board, then faced us again. “I’ve got a lot going on, see. Big stuff behind the scenes, big stuff.” She grinned like she thought we cared. “What can I say? I’ve still got it. Demand is high, and stock is low. Shame there’s only one of me, eh?” Unable to contain her own smug aura, she started smacking the podium. Based on the nuggets of info she’d dropped now and then, I’d arrived at a theory regarding this sharp change in mood: Sensei had peaked. “Gosh, who’s leaving all those likes? For the record, those don’t work on me! Sensei’s got principles, so don’t you dare think I’m easy!”

I now had a new theory: dating app. Uh-oh. Did Amanatsu Konami truly have the power to tame such sorcery?

Finally, and probably not at all influenced by the impatient gazes of her students, she thwacked the podium with the class roster and said, “All right, dismissed! Get home safe, ya rascals!”

***

Ennui. That was the word I would have used to describe the club room that evening. Komari browsed the bookshelves, but her eyes were looking past them. Yanami was entranced by a video of butter melting on her phone. Panic was giving way to resignation.

That was the worst thing to happen at a time like this. I stood up from my seat and proclaimed, “Look sharp, guys. Today’s the day. I can feel it.”

Yanami reluctantly raised her head with a sigh. “We had a whole week to get visitors and didn’t get a single one. What makes you think today’s gonna be any different?”

“That’s exactly it. It’s because it’s the last day that there’s a chance.”

“H-how do you figure?” Komari asked apathetically.

“Who joins the lit club? Timid introverts, that’s who. Can you blame them for getting cold feet after orientation?” Self-burn. I still had nightmares about that disaster. “So if anyone’s going to join, it’ll be today. When it’s their last chance to work up the courage. We need to be ready to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.”

“‘Last chance,’ he says…” Yanami griped. “They can literally join whenever. It doesn’t have to be during the visiting period. Why are you so sure we’ll get someone today specifically?”

I figured she wouldn’t get it. Komari and I exchanged knowing looks and shrugged.

“Look, for people like us—me and Komari—it is our last chance. Just barge into a club full of strangers after it’s socially expected and accepted? Not likely. For introverts, it’s always us versus the world.”

“I really don’t think the world’s out to hurt you.”

I begged to differ, knowing what it had done to her.

“N-Nukumizu-kun,” said Komari, “should we b-bring out that?”

“Right. That. Suppose now’s the time,” I said. I brought down a cardboard box from the top shelf, pulling from it another box.

“No way, are those turtle monaka from Okamedo?! I love those!” cheered Yanami.

“Our senpai left them behind. Said they might help out with the recruiting. That means they’re not for you.”

“Um, hold on, why were those hidden up there anyway?”

This, in my professional opinion, went without saying.

I handed the box to Komari. She frowned at it. “Th-these are expired.”

Well, crap. There went that plan. Yanami snatched the box while we despaired.

“She just said those are expired,” I told her.

“Dude, you seriously believe in expiration dates?”

And thus, another Yanami-ism was born.

“Why are you talking about them like they’re Santa Claus?”

“Listen to me, Nukumizu-kun. You know why they call ’em ‘best-before’ dates sometimes? Because sometimes all they need to be is good.” She bit into one of the turtle-shaped, red bean-filled confections. “Yup, still good. Bon appétit, everyone.”

I knew a losing battle when I saw one. We acquiesced and started snacking. Eventually, my phone rang. The tone of a certain iconic film about a giant shark. I knew the sender at once: Konuki Sayo.

Checking the message preview on my lock screen, it read, “Paging Prez to the infirmary. ♡”

Prez really did not want to go to the infirmary.

Komari took a peek while I pondered an escape route. “Wh-what?”

“Konuki-sensei wants me. Kinda busy, though. You mind going?”

She croaked. “N-no, thanks.”

I did not blame her.

Yanami opened her fourth monaka. “Think we’re getting disbanded?” Komari and I jumped up, but she just calmly sipped her tea. “I mean, that’s on the table if we don’t get members, isn’t it? It’s the last day to give club tours. Figure she’s probably dropping us a warning or something.”

When she was right, she was right. Rare as it was. It only took one look at fidgety, anxious Komari for me to make peace with my fate. Seemed I was taking a trip to the infirmary.

Boy, did I not want to, though.

***

There was a certain procedure when entering the Tsuwabuki nurse’s office, and following it was a matter of grave importance. First: Turn on the lights and open the curtains. Then blow out all candles (because of the fire hazard, obviously). Don’t forget the mood lights. Those had to go out too. If possible, check for cameras. When speaking to her, it was always best to do so in the company of another, but failing that, ensuring there was at least a table between you would suffice. Always take the seat closest to the door.

Then, and only then, was it safe to interact with the entity known as Konuki Sayo.

“Some herbal tea. Drink while it’s hot.” She placed a teacup in front of me.

“Thank you,” I replied carefully. “May I ask what this concerns?”

“Do I need to have a reason to chat?”

“Ideally, yes. I’m busy.” I took a sip.

“Time certainly hasn’t mellowed you out. How’s your tea? You drank it, didn’t you? Or do you have a particularly strong stomach?”

“Did you spike this with something?”

She smiled. Time to retreat. But just as I made to stand, she pointed a long, slender finger at me. “Let’s talk about how recruiting has been going.” There it was. I settled back into my chair and took a breath. She lowered her voice to a cloying purr. “How are things?”

“Well, er…”

Before I could come up with an explanation, she continued, and what followed stunned me. “I can introduce you to someone who might be willing to join, if you’d like.”

It was so unbelievable, and yet so perfectly timed, that I practically flew from my chair. “Yes! Thank you! We’ll take anyone and everyone!”

“Well, that certainly makes my job easier.”

“Wait. Can I consider first?” There was no such thing as a free lunch. Maybe this wasn’t as perfect as it sounded. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, but still. “Who are they exactly, and why the literature club? The way you phrased it, it doesn’t sound like they’re the one who wants to join.”

“She’s just having trouble fitting in is all. I want to be there for her, but, well, circumstances.”

“Circumstances.”

Konuki-sensei parted her lips for a second, then closed them again. Picking her words. “She’s the little sister of a friend. I’ve known her a long time, but that friend’s a teacher, see. There’s concern of favoritism. I was hoping you kids could step in for us.”

Circumstances, indeed. I didn’t doubt that she was genuinely concerned for this girl, and given her status as faculty, I could see how paying her any special attention wouldn’t go over well. Especially if they already knew each other outside of school.

A friend of Konuki-sensei’s. Right.

“And this friend of yours is…?”

“Not a man, rest assured. I don’t make friends with men. Would you like to know why?”

“I’m good, actually.”

She explained that it was a friend from her college days. She’d been a year below Konuki-sensei and Amanatsu-sensei, but the three of them had been, and I quote, “locked at the hips.” The potential recruit was the friend’s little sister, a first-year named Shiratama Riko. She was a bit of a misfit among her peers, something Konuki-sensei hoped the lit club might remedy.

“You sure that’s a good idea? I wouldn’t exactly call us normal,” I said.

“Well, I trust you and the girls, and that’s what matters. Also, I think you two actually share some things in common.” She lifted her cup of tea and smelled the fragrance while I wondered what that could mean. “Riko-chan’s very protective of her sister. It’s caused no shortage of problems for her.”

“I’m not protective of my sister.”

Konuki-sensei smiled. “I’m told she’s fond of you in a similar way. Given your firsthand experience, I think there’s a lot about Riko-chan’s situation you can relate to.”

“Oh. Well, I guess. Sure. I’d say my sister and I are on pretty good terms.” I wasn’t sure I totally followed what she was getting at, but I definitely knew about clingy siblings. Honestly seemed like an occupational hazard for all little sisters at this point. “All right, yeah. We can meet her in the club room tomorrow. No harm in that.”

Konuki-sensei shook her head and handed me her contact details. “She’s actually been suspended, so she won’t be here. You’ll have to go to her yourself.”

“Can I reconsider?”

I held the contact details back out to her. She took my hand, closed it over the paper, looked into my eyes, and shook her head again.

***

The next day after school, Yanami and I took a brisk, twenty-minute bike ride to Aeon Toyohashi Minami, colloquially known as Nan-JUS. The food court, to be precise. Why had we gone so far out of our way? Why else? To interview our curious candidate, Shiratama-san. Komari had weaseled out.

Yanami, sitting next to me, one elbow rested casually on the table, looked up from her phone. “Hey, so I get ‘Nan’ is ‘south,’ but what’s the ‘JUS’ part of Nan-JUS?”

“Used to be called JUSCO before we were born or something. I assume it comes from that.”

“Oh, so kinda like how my gramma calls APiTA ‘Uny.’”

“She calls it what?”

“I dunno. Apparently there used to be a Uny.”

Had to have been twentieth century. Before our time. We kept rambling about this and that while I kept my eye on the people passing by. Lots of students, but no one from Tsuwabuki.

“She’s coming in her uniform, right?” Yanami asked. “Wonder who exactly this girl is.”

“The school year’s hardly started and she’s already suspended. Feel like that paints a clear enough picture.”

She crossed her arms and smirked knowingly. “Sukeban. I know the type. Rough and tumble. Bet she throws a chain around and everything.”

“You’re stuck in the wrong century, Yanami-san.”

At least I hoped so. I was starting to feel like pulling a Komari. Yanami’d sacrifice herself for me, right? I started calculating viable escape routes.

Then something started beeping.

“Be right back!” Yanami darted off with one of those wireless pager things. The kind for telling you when your food was ready.

She’d ordered something? Literally when?

She sauntered back carrying a tray, placing one of the items on it in front of me. Steam wafted from the white broth (how you knew it’s legit). Tonkotsu ramen from Sugakiya. Returning to her spot next to me, she took up the fork-spoon hybrid utensil appropriately called a “ramen fork” and started slurping noodles.

“Why did you order this for me?” I asked.

“It’s rude to sit in a food court without food, Nukumizu-kun. Plus, Konuki-sensei lent me some money for drinks.”

“So you bought ramen.”

“It’s got broth.”

I silently agreed to disagree and picked up my chopsticks.

That was when she nudged me. “Hey, isn’t that her? Tsuwabuki uniform.” Slurp.

I followed her eyes to a small girl looking a little lost outside the food court. Sure enough, she wore a Tsuwabuki uniform. She looked about as tall as Yanami actually, but her willowy limbs gave her a more petite frame. Fine hair hung just past her shoulders. From afar, she almost looked like a doll.

Whoa. She was cute. Like, seriously cute. No way this was our delinquent.

Relief visibly filled her expression when she spotted us. She tried to make her way over, fighting against the tide of local students going the other way, but it wasn’t much of a fight really. She lost it in no time flat.

“Think she’ll be okay?” Yanami asked as the current continued to sweep her away.

The sight of a frail girl being consumed in a sea of human bodies did not inspire me with that confidence. Yanami had to go drag her back over, and by then the girl’s head was spinning.

She collapsed into a chair. No one send this girl to Tokyo.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Y-yes. Thank you.” The girl lowered her head. “I’m Shiratama Riko. From class 1-E.”

“I’m Nukumizu. The club president. This is—”

“Yanami-senpai. Right. Thank you again for coming to my rescue.” She lowered her head.

Her savior shot her a thumbs-up as she scooped a menma shoot into her mouth.

I studied the stranger closely. She looked pretty darn innocent to me. Girly girl. Cute as a button. Emphasis on the cute. I’d come to know many a good-looking girl recently, but when it came to sheer “must protect” vibes, no one inspired me to crusade on their behalf quite like this one did. She’d been suspended? As if she could hurt a fly.

“So, um, I heard a little bit from Konuki-sensei,” I said.

“Right. She wants me to spend some time with you all in the literature club.” Shiratama-san turned her eyes up at me. “But I don’t know a lot about books. I hope I won’t be a burden.”

“Oh, no, that’s not—”

“Yeah, books are hard,” Yanami interjected. “Took me a while to find my footing, but you’ll get there.” She twirled her fork-spoon with the great smugness of a senpai.

More beeping.

Yanami raised the pager high as she stood. “Hear that? It’s time for dessert—I mean, Shiratama-chan’s welcome party!”

***

“The dame’s rockets by the river are particularly beautiful this time of year.”

“Really? Wow. Good to know.”

“I’d love to show the both of you sometime.” Shiratama-san ate the last of her anmitsu then politely put her hands together and thanked us for the treat.

Meanwhile, I sorted through my growing mental notes on her. She’d picked up sewing from her sister. She liked sweet treats. Didn’t do well with crowds. Most recently had gotten into early morning walks. In summary: She was cute. Very cute. I made sure to write that in red ink.

She turned her eyes up at me again. “I’m so sorry for rambling. I can be so annoying sometimes.”

“Not at all. I’m glad one of us is a conversationalist.”

“Only because you make it so easy.” She stuck her tongue out playfully. Now she was just doing it on purpose.

“Nukumizu-kun,” Yanami cut in. “The cream in your zenzai is melting.” Oh. Right. Forgot she was here. Her second bowl of ramen, ordered in place of dessert, already lay empty. She chugged her water, then noisily set the glass back down. “You sure you don’t wanna wash all that down with some ramen, Shiratama-chan? We’ve got gomoko gohan too, if you prefer rice.”

“I’m okay, thank you. I should be going. I have to be ready to answer a phone call from my teacher by a certain time every day.”

Another thing I’d forgotten. She was suspended.

Shiratama-san stood, took her tray, lightly bowed, and then made her way to the counter to drop off her dishes. Before being stopped by staff because she went to the wrong counter.

Once she was gone, I said, “Well, that’s a relief. She’s not so bad. What did you think, Yanami-san?”

She stopped glaring at the bottom of her bowl and started glaring at me. “I think you two sure talked a lot.”

“That’s kind of why we came here. To get to know her. Would it kill you to be nice?”

“All I know is I sure learned a lot about what your type is, apparently.” She thrust her ramen fork at me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like, Einstein. Ugh. Men. It’s always the young ones.”

For crying out loud, she was one year younger. Was Yanami seriously that petty?

I scooted my cup of red bean soup over to her. “Haven’t touched it. Want it?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

I’d recently read in a book that when bringing a new dog home, one had to be mindful of the old one. Advice that would translate well to my current situation. Somehow, I could already smell the trouble brewing.

I downed the rest of my water.

***

Yanami and I left the mall. It was getting dark out.

“Look, all I’m saying is you can’t seriously be that easy.”

“Implying that’s even what this is about. You sure you aren’t just being jealous for no reason?”

Two large bowls of ramen plus half of mine plus a cup of zenzai did not equal a happy Yanami. Shocking given just how many calories that was.

She checked her wristwatch, then sped up, paying zero mind to my own pace. “She’s suspended for a reason. I’m telling you, there’s a catch to Little Miss Cutesy.”

“And I’m telling you it’s probably complicated. Seriously, how can a girl like her possibly do any wrong? Did you see her?”

Yanami gave me a look. “Not as well as you, apparently.”

Oops. Right. Mindful of the old dog. I cleared my throat. “Let’s put judging her aside. If you were suspended, I’d have your back.”

“The difference is I wouldn’t be!”

Hm. I had my doubts. Frankly, I’d been wondering for a while when she’d finally snap.

Suddenly, Yanami tugged my sleeve. “Hey. Girl in that car. Is that…?”

“Huh?”

I looked just in time to see the passenger door fly open on a parked car. It was Shiratama-san. It looked like she was arguing with the driver. About what, I couldn’t say. Whatever it was, it seemed we’d caught the nasty tail end of it.

Shiratama-san stormed off, and a man in a suit hopped out of the driver’s seat next. What was strange was I swore I recognized that oddly age-ambiguous face of his.

“Oh my god, isn’t that Tanaka-sensei?”

“What? The Japanese teacher?”

I squinted at him. Those rounded shoulders. The frazzled vibes. That was Tanaka-sensei all right. He’d mingled with the lit club on occasion, even passing along a flyer full of writing-related events to me one time. The question was, what was Shiratama-san doing in his car?

He followed her for a few steps but clearly got told off, because he didn’t make it far before trudging back. He drove off shortly after.

“The heck was that about?” Yanami said, breaking the stunned silence.

“Maybe he’s her homeroom teacher?”

“He’s 2-F.”

Tanaka-sensei was a stand-up guy. Serious about teaching, good at it, and he genuinely cared about his students. And, apparently, he and Shiratama-san were entangled in a…spat of sorts.

“Told ya,” Yanami chirped. “Always a catch.”

I wanted to argue but couldn’t. So I just grinned like an idiot.

***

Two days after witnessing whatever it was we witnessed between Shiratama-san and Tanaka-sensei, I quietly made my way through the old building. It was after school, but I still took extra care to make sure I wasn’t followed. Once certain I hadn’t been, I slipped into the dingy darkness beneath the staircase.

“Right on time,” said my accomplice. Student council vice president, Basori Tiara. Notably from class 2-F. I was 2-C, so it had been a while since I last saw her. She took one last cautious look around at our surroundings before slinking further back.

“Sorry about this. Weird ask, I know.”

“A favor for a favor. Your tutoring has been helpful.”

I almost called her out on the fact that I didn’t tutor her that often but thought better of it. She handed me several documents. “I believe this is what you were looking for. Treat this information with prudence.”

The first page was titled “Tsuwabuki High School Investigative Report—Tanaka Yuuji.” I nodded and flipped to the next. This was his third year teaching language at Tsuwabuki, and my second with him personally. Slightly older than Amanatsu-sensei and Konuki-sensei.

“Interesting. He was at Mikoshi High School before?”

“He came highly recommended too. I hear only good things about him in my own class.”

I couldn’t get what we saw out of my head, so I’d asked Tiara-san to do some digging for me. But maybe I was just being paranoid. Still, no way that’d been a plain old teacher-student interaction. So what had it been?

I stopped turning pages. “Tanaka-sensei was the lit club’s supervisor?”

“He was, before we enrolled. But only for part of the year.”

Tamaki-senpai had implied there was a story behind us not having a supervisor before. I never did hear it.

Tiara-san stepped closer to me and lowered her voice to a whisper. “This is only hearsay, but allegedly there was an incident involving him and a female student in the past.”

Now that was unexpected. He didn’t seem like the type at all. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, to call Tiara-san crazy, but after what I’d seen with Shiratama-san…

“He that popular with the ladies?” I asked.

“I’m not sure, but every girl has a story about a young, handsome teacher they once had a crush on.”

“Yeah? Does that go for—”

“Me? No. It doesn’t.” Yikes. Defensive much? “But the gentle, soft-spoken types often have the quietest admirers. Speaking entirely objectively, of course.”

Huh. I’d always figured the bright and sunny ones to be more popular. Guess the done-with-life types filled a certain niche. No judgment. Everyone had their preferences.

A thought occurred to me. An incident with a female student. Used to be the lit club’s supervisor. Maybe those things were connected. Maybe he even had something to do with Shiratama-san’s suspension.

Tiara-san peered at me.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Why the sudden curiosity?” she asked. “Has something happened between you?”

“Not with me.” I thought twice about spilling about Shiratama-san. “I’m just interested. That’s all.”

“Interested?!” Tiara-san jolted. “N-now look, I’m a very open-minded individual—”

“Okay?”

She started shuffling her feet in a nervous fit. “Not that your genders have anything to do with it, of course, but I can’t be involved in anything scandalous between a teacher and a student!”

“What are you talking about?”

“You want him, don’t you?!”

“Uh, no?!”

“Rest assured, your secret is safe with me! I’ll even turn a blind eye so long as—”

“So long as nothing! There’s no secret to keep!” I’d clearly trusted the wrong informant. I had to smooth this over somehow. “I was just considering switching supervisors, and Tanaka-sensei was on my mind.”

“Is there something wrong with Konuki-sensei?” Tiara-san considered what she just said, then frowned. “I understand.”

It wasn’t a lie if it was mostly true.

“My apologies then. Considering you could have gone to Sakurai-kun, I leaped to conclusions.”

“I thought about him, but he’s on the student council. I can’t expect him to keep a secret on the off chance things turn complicated, given his position.”

“You do remember I’m on the student council too, don’t you?”

Right she was. I evaded her scathing gaze and did the only thing I knew could right this wrong: lie. “Well, you’re, uh, in class F, so I figured you were a safe bet.”

“I do pride myself on being tight-lipped, I suppose.” Tiara-san drifted off, thinking, then giggled to herself. “All right. Consider my door open to future developments from now on.”

“Wait, really?”

She stepped out of the shadows. “On the off chance things turn complicated.”

I had said that. I nodded. Tiara-san twirled to face me, finger raised up to her lips. “It’s kinda fun, sharing secrets.”

***

I went straight to the club room after my meeting with Tiara-san. There, Yanami and Komari had a couple glares ready and waiting for me as soon as I opened the door.

“There he is. The world’s slowest club president.”

“Wh-what took you so long?”

I sat down. “Sorry. Had to take care of something.” Then I started to reach for the documents. But I hesitated. Could I show them to these two? Before I could reach a consensus, Yanami plopped a notebook on the table. “What’s this?”

“Deets on Shiratama Riko. We did some legwork around 1-F.”

“‘We’? Komari too?”

The small one nodded proudly. “I l-learned their whole class schedule.”

Incredibly useful information, that.

I reached for the notebook. Yanami held it down. “What?” I asked. “Am I not allowed to look?”

“Within, you will find the real Shiratama-chan. Are you ready for it? Can you handle it? Those rosy glasses of yours might not survive the truth.”

“D-die,” Komari spat.

“I’ll manage,” I said. I saw worse on a daily basis. Still, for her to go out of her way to warn me, the secrets she’d uncovered had to be some dark stuff.

Steeled, I opened the notebook. The first section looked like impressions from the boys.

“She talks to me,” one testimony said. “She picked up my eraser one time.” “Her shampoo smells nice.”

Off to a bad start. I was starting to worry for my fellow men more than Shiratama-san.

I read on. “She’s totally into me.” “In your dreams.” “Bro, she picked up my eraser for me, bro.” “She’s done that three times for me.”

I got the idea. “Sounds like a nice girl to me,” I said, looking up. “She picks up erasers.”

“Yeah, no kidding!” Yanami snapped. “It’s only April, and that’s all she friggin’ does! How often are you dropping those things?”

“It happens. Usually no one picks it up for you.” Komari nodded in agreement. I knew I could count on her to understand my pain. “So she’s secretly the Eraser-Picker-Upper Fairy. Damning stuff.”

“You haven’t even gotten to the girls’ part yet! Read ’em and try not to weep.”

I looked back down. Apparently, there was more. “Cute.” “She’s like a doll.” “I like how she smells.” “God, I want her beneath me, if you catch my drift.”

All right. Girls weren’t much better than the guys. Noted. Clearly, though, she was well-liked all around. I was about ready to chalk this up to classic Yanami pettiness, but then I kept reading.

“She’s a total flirt.” “Girl can’t leave the boys alone.”

Uh-oh. The testimonies were taking a turn. I flipped the page.

“She thinks she’s such hot stuff.” “My boyfriend dumped me.” “Girl, that’s on you.”

“My boyfriend asked me to introduce him.” “He ain’t your boyfriend.” “She picked up my eraser one time.”

First-year girls were brutal. Sheesh. Still picking up erasers, I noted.

I read through one more time before shutting the notebook. “What I’m getting from this is she’s popular,” I summarized, “so some peopleare jealous.”

“I’m popular!” Yanami blurted.

Except we weren’t talking about her.

Komari thumbed through it next. Timidly, she added, “I-I don’t think she’s a bad person.”

“Don’t be deceived, Komari-chan. She’s a snake. To girls like her, ‘just friends’ is a threat. Next thing you know, she’s locking arms with your man.”

The bias in the air was so thick I could smell it. We were getting so far off track.

“Need I remind you, Yanami-san, that we’re trying to recruit her?” I said. “We knew she’d come with baggage when we learned she was suspended.”

“I mean, I guess.” She deflated. Now was my chance to nip this in the bud.

“Konuki-sensei sent her our way for a reason. Just think of this as our way of repaying her.” I only made it about halfway through that last sentence before I stopped believing myself. Repay her for what exactly?

Yanami twisted her lips and nodded. “Okay, you got me there. We do owe her.”

“I honestly wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

“You people seriously think I’m some ingrate, don’t you?!” Well, yes, but that was beside the point. Komari and I, local ingrates, watched as Yanami stood and finally tore last month off the neglected calendar on the wall. “Sure, whatever. We’ll see how things go.”

Tomorrow, April 16th, was the big day. The day Shiratama-san’s suspension would end.

***

I was met with a sweet scent as I opened the front door.

“Welcome home, Oniisama!” My little sister pitter-pattered over.

I looked over Kaju’s head into the kitchen. “Boiling anko or something?”

“Ding, ding, ding! Winner! Your prize is a whole lifetime supply of Kaju!”

“Gee whiz, really?” I said in monotone, slipping past her. I peeked into the pot on the stove. Inside was a soup of red beans and small, white dumplings. “Zenzai? Using dango instead of mochi?”

“Shiratama dango! Have a taste.” Kaju held out a small cup of gooey anko with a single, snowy white dango.

Talk about coincidence. My mind naturally wandered back to meeting a very different Shiratama at Nan-JUS, and the situation (ship?) with Tanaka-sensei we happened to stumble upon. With strange trepidation, I took the wooden spoon from her.

“Careful, Oniisama. Dango are easy to choke on.”

“I know. Not biting off more than I can chew.” I tried to eat, but Kaju grabbed my hand. “Uh, yeah?”

“Shiratama dango especially. Very sweet but very slick. You might not realize it’s gone down the wrong pipe until it’s too late.”

She took the spoon from me, scooped up the dango, and fed me. Still holding onto my hand. The anko was sweet, but subtly so. Saltier than expected.

“Chew thoroughly,” she said. “Chew, chew, chew. That’s the way to eat shiratama.” Salty. So salty. On Kaju’s lips hung a smile that revealed itself in no other part of her expression. “You can never be too careful, Oniisama.”

I nodded. And chewed.

***

After school the following day, Yanami and Komari were anything but calm.

“You’re sure she’s coming?” asked Yanami.

“Relax. Konuki-sensei said she’d be here.” Today was the day Shiratama-san would finally come see the club for herself. Komari was especially antsy, sitting and standing over and over like a bugged NPC. “That goes for you too. You’re a senpai now. Time to act like it.”

“A-a senpai?!” she sputtered. Frozen solid was better than fidgeting constantly, at least.

Yanami nodded. “He’s right. You’ve gotta buck up. Use Nukumizu-kun for practice. Be a senpai to him.”

Why me? Whatever. I was interested in seeing where this went. “Sure, I’ll bite. Lay it on me, Komari.”

“Wh-what am I supposed to do?” she stammered.

Yanami crossed her arms. “Just make him do whatever you want. Give you a massage, buy you drinks, that sorta thing.”

“You better not pull that on Shiratama-san,” I warned her.

“O-okay, um…” Komari stared down at me. “P-pat…my head.”

You could have heard a pin drop, the silence that followed.

“Komari, you’re supposed to be the senpai,” I said. “Senpai give head pats.”

“W-well she said wh-whatever I wanted.”

“Komari-chan,” Yanami muttered grimly.

Senpai role-play in which the senpai demands to be treated as a kouhai. This was too advanced for me. It was only then that I realized the door was open.

“What, uh… Whatcha guys up to?” the spectator asked.

“Lemon-chan! Hey, it’s been a while!”

“Hey, Yana-chan. I hear we’ve got fresh meat comin’?” Still dressed in her practice uniform, Yakishio came over and sat by Yanami.

“Done for the day?” I asked.

“I’ve been going kinda hard, so Coach said to take it easy for a while. Got busted on my morning run.” She shook a protein shake in one hand. Notably the hand opposite Yanami—the result of a hard lesson learned.

“Things going well, then?”

“Eh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

The smile on her face would have put a sunflower under a clear sky after the rain to shame, and it told me I had nothing to worry about anymore. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. Yakishio’s world was too big for someone like me now. Her wake, too vast. Which did make me a little sad, admittedly. Hypocritical as it was to admit.

The girls chatted together a while. And before long, the door creaked open again.

“Um, excuse me. Is this the literature club room?” Shiratama Riko sheepishly poked her head in, saw me, and then instantly smiled in relief.

“So you’re Tama-chan, huh? C’mon in!” Yakishio called out to her.

She shuffled in, her eyes glued to the floor. Her nerves seemed to get the better of her for a while, until she finally swung her head down into a bow. “Um, my name is Shiratama Riko. I’m a first-year, and I suppose I’ll be, uh, trying things out with you all for a while. Glad to be here.”

Intermission: Stranger Danger

Intermission:
Stranger Danger

THERE WERE MANY CONVERSATIONS HAPPENING during lunch break at Tsuwabuki. Among the girls of class 1-F especially. The topics began with harmless things. TV shows, homework, and the like. But it wasn’t long before the elephant in the room had to be addressed.

A classmate of theirs had been suspended.

One particularly fox-eyed girl leered at the empty desk. “How do you get suspended already? Like, seriously, I’m curious.”

“I hear it’s about a guy,” said another girl. “A teacher, actually, which is insane.”

“Seriously? But they’re so old!”

The girls cackled.

A group of boys heckled them from afar. “It’s ’cause you lot scared her off!”

“Women, man. No one’s nastier.”

Another round of cackling.

“Big talk for a bunch of simps,” one of the girls shot back.

But then someone asked a question. “But who is Shiratama-san really?”

And that quieted everybody. For a few seconds, it was as if time had stopped. The asker was a girl with long dark braided hair.

The girls looked at each other. “You know, that’s true. I don’t think we’ve ever, like, talked actually.”

“The boys always monopolize her.”

“Yeah, they’d probably know better, right?”

Shiratama Riko. An enigmatic girl who’d shown up, made herself queen, then disappeared just as quickly. It was no wonder rumors were quick to supplant reality when none of her classmates knew the first thing about her.

One of the girls glanced around. “Wait, who was that girl just then? She was cute.”

“I thought you knew her, Kei-chan.”

“Nuh-uh, not me. Maybe she’s Shiratama-san’s friend?”

The stranger was suddenly nowhere to be seen. The fox-eyed girl, frankly, wondered if they’d seen a ghost. “Does Shiratama-san even have any girl friends?”

The girl let her hair loose as she paced quickly down the hallway. She was the type of girl who made most people double-take, but she glided skillfully through the crowds of students without drawing attention.

She flicked her long locks aside as she exited the school building and continued walking. “This one might be a little too much for Oniisama to handle.”

Loss 2: It’s Complicated

Loss 2:
It’s Complicated

KONUKI-SENSEI SAT ACROSS THE TABLE FROM ME in the nurse’s office. It was after school. She took a sip of coffee from her mug, then gave me a calming smile. “How’s Riko-chan been?”

“Just fine, at least in the club room. She read through our old journals yesterday.” I took a sip of hojicha green tea from a bottle I’d brought myself.

Shiratama-san had been attending club every day for the last week now. She’d show up, we’d talk about random, mundane things, then she’d leave after an hour. Always exactly an hour. And she never seemed keen on chatting with Yanami or Komari. She’d picked no less than two erasers off the ground so far.

“It’s important to have a place to belong at school. Keep watching her for me, will you?”

“I’m still not convinced the lit club is, well, that place. She’d be better off getting to know her own classmates, wouldn’t she?”

“I recall a time when you and Komari-san weren’t so different.” Fair. I wasn’t one to talk. Konuki-sensei suddenly became distant. Thoughtfully so. “Kids are so quick to make school their entire world. But that just goes to show how many others they still have to explore.”

“Other ‘worlds,’” I repeated for clarification.

She smiled softly. “I’ve seen a few myself. Died on hills, given up on others. I’ve been around the block a few times, you know.”

“Is there a euphemism I’m missing?”

She just laughed. Konuki-sensei clearly still thought about her teen years quite a bit. Held dearly to the things she’d felt and experienced. Maybe she saw some of those things in Shiratama-san. Maybe not. I wasn’t sure what she saw in that girl, but she clearly cared about her. Which only made my next question all the more burning.

We chatted a bit more, and when it was appropriate, I casually said, “So there’s something about Tanaka-sensei I was wondering about. You know, the one who teaches Japanese.”

“Oh? What’s that? Don’t be shy.”

“It has to do with his, uh…character. If you know what I mean.”

“His ‘character’?” Konuki-sensei’s eyes narrowed. Uh-oh. Land mine?

“I just mean, er, he showed me some events for the literature club a while ago. I was just wondering about him. Y’know.”

She nodded. My flimsy excuse seemed to work. “He used to be the supervisor, so I imagine he’s just a little sentimental. As for his ‘character’…” She looked up at the ceiling, searching her memory. “Faithful. That’s what I would call him. Principled enough to stay true to his partner despite the implicit advances of a coworker. Just as an example.”

“Sorry. Forget I asked.”

Tanaka-sensei’s coworker giggled. “Wise. Want one?” She handed me a container of mints.

I instinctively went to take one, but my better judgment intervened. “No, thank you.”

Konuki-sensei’s hand remained extended for several seconds before she finally shrugged. “Wise.”

***

I hurried back to the club room. My conversation with Konuki-sensei lingered in my head. Something about her had changed when I brought up Tanaka-sensei, but was that just me overthinking it? In any case, he wasn’t the kind of guy to hook up with a coworker.

Faithful. Right. I’d learned that much about him. Even if he and Shiratama-san were up to no good, that was none of my business.

I put all that from my mind for now. No doubt things were awkward at the club without me. I picked up the pace as I passed through the breezeway connecting to the west annex—only to stop in my tracks.

Konuki-sensei said Tanaka-sensei had a partner…

But that was none of my business. Nope.

I put a big ol’ pin in that and continued on my way.

***

So things weren’t awkward at the club without me. They were worse.

Yanami sat in her chair, hunched over, a stiff breeze away from crumbling like a pile of ashes. Komari, meanwhile, was having a staring contest with the wall and completely unresponsive. Muffled music came from the earbuds stuffed in her ears. One of her semimonthly moods.

“President!” Shiratama-san trotted over with her hands clasped in front of her chest.

“Uh, what happened here?”

“I’m not really sure. We were just talking, and then…”

If she didn’t understand, I seriously doubted my own ability to do so. It was really hard not to walk straight back out the door.

“You good?” I asked Yanami. “Want some sugar water?”

“No. No, I’m okay. It’s just a flesh wound.” She languidly brushed aside the hair clinging to her face.

Seeing her like this genuinely took me aback. Apparently, you could go lower than rock bottom. What in the world had Shiratama-san done to these poor souls?

“I guess I’ll make us some tea?” The panacea for all social ailments.

While I got on that, Shiratama-san came up next to me and started taking out cups. “I’m sorry. Gosh, I’m so awkward. The younger members should be doing little chores like this.”

“Eh, we’re not really stuffy like that. It’s no biggie.”

This was the land of the free, here at the lit club. I, for example, was free to make tea. Literally every time. Every day. For some reason.

“You’re so mature,” she murmured out of nowhere.

“Huh?”

“It’s just the way you carry yourself. You’re always so composed and easy to talk to. I thought second-years would be more, I don’t know, scary. But you sure proved me wrong.”

Huh. No one had ever said that to me before. The others better have been listening. I poured the tea, sending them a bit of side-eye.

“Most people are nice once you get to know them,” I said. “Your classmates too, I bet.”

“Maybe. But the girls don’t like me very much, so I usually hang out with the guys, to be honest. I guess you could say I’m a bit of a tomboy.” She poked her tongue out.

I believed her. She was cute. Too cute. Controversially so. Urge to protect rising.

“Tea’s ready, everybody!” Shiratama-san placed a cup in front of the fossilized Yanami and near a petrified Komari. Neither acknowledged her. I sat with my own cup, and she was quick to take the seat next to me. “Say, you were pretty late. What were you doing?”

“Oh, just talking to Konuki-sensei. She’s our supervisor.”

“Sayo-san’s so pretty, isn’t she? Sometimes I wish I was her.”

She would need no monkey’s paw to regret that wish. But I kept that to myself. “You two know each other, I hear.”

“Right. She’s an old friend of my sister’s. I’ve had her tutor me in the past, and we used to go out together sometimes.”

Out. With Konuki-sensei. Define “out.”

Before I could decide whether to give voice to those concerns, Shiratama-san filled the silence with a warm smile. Why was she so darn cute? It was like an aura she emanated.

I smiled back, only to sense a disturbance. It originated from the one called Yanami, who was staring at me with half-dead eyes. “Having fun, Nukumizu-kun?”

I had been. Before the disturbance. “Well, uh, hey, if you’re feeling better, I’ve got an idea.”

“An ‘idea,’” she repeated doubtfully. Yanami sat upright again, scratching her head. Points to Shiratama-san. What kind of points? Irrelevant.

“I was thinking this weekend…” Iglanced at Komari. She wouldn’t hear squat with those earbuds in. So I called her phone.

She squawked.

I waited for her to answer, put her on speaker, and then set my phone in the middle of the table. There. Included.

“I was thinking this weekend,” I continued, “we could go somewhere together.”

There was a long period of tepid silence before Yanami finally dared to speak up. “You mean, like, an overnight thing?”

“Nothing that involved. Just a short excursion. Look for inspiration. Then we could have a meeting and spitball writing prompts.”

Last summer, the club had gone on a rather heartwarming field trip. Unless I was misremembering things. One person had gotten the short end of the stick. Two were dating now. That was a net positive, right? Hopefully there’d be less drama this time, but the spirit was the same: to get to know each other better.

Shiratama-san’s hand shot up. “That’s a great idea! I say let’s do it!”

Yanami side-eyed her, then fiddled with her phone. “I dunno, man, you can’t just spring this on me. I’ve got plans. And stuff.”

Komari nodded at the wall in agreement.

Great job, guys. Knew I could count on them. Granted, it was sudden.

“Okay, then let’s find a date when we’re all—”

“I guess it’s just the two of us then, huh?” Shiratama-san interrupted me. Yanami and Komari twitched. “Gosh, now I’m nervous. What to wear? Oh, but we should pick somewhere to actually go first, shouldn’t we?”

“Uh, the two of us?”

She gasped, then cast her eyes down sadly. “I’m sorry. I just assumed and got so excited. We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to.” Compared to the bottomless pit and the statue who could stand there reading for two hours straight while I wondered when the hell we were going to leave, yeah, I might have preferred her. She’d have to commit a crime or something to get on my bad side at this point.

Shiratama-san lit up. “Really? Then actually there’s this one place I’ve been meaning—”

“I’m going,” muttered Yanami.

“I thought you had plans,” I said.

“Nuh-uh.”

Rock solid defense. She had me. Honestly, I’d gotten so good at tuning her out I very well could have misheard her. Bad habit.

“Then how does Sunday sound?”

“I-I’m free too.” Komari half raised a trembling hand. How long had she been with us at the table for?

“Didn’t you have plans?”

“F-finished them.”

Already? The work ethic on that girl.

Yanami crossed her arms and put on her thinkin’ face. “So. Destinations. We doing lunch? Let’s figure out lunch.”

We would figure out lunch. After we figured out what we were actually doing.

“You were saying something about a place?” I said to Shiratama-san.

She looked around at each of us. “I was thinking Aeon Mall in Toyokawa.”

“Oh, I know the place.”

It was a big shopping center in the next town over. New enough that I hadn’t been myself yet. The closest train station to it was only twenty minutes from Toyohashi Station, so well within day trip distance.

I checked with the old guard. Yanami gave a thumbs-up. “Not bad, Shiratama-chan. We’ll eat like queens there.”

The hungry one was satisfied with this arrangement.

“Th-there’s a bookstore I w-wanted to look at there,” said the small one. She pulled out her wallet and started counting. She didn’t count long before her shoulders slumped.

“All right, then I guess keep your Sundays clear,” I said. “We’ll go over details in the group chat.”

Wait. I had Shiratama-san’s number, but she wasn’t in our group on LINE yet. I hadn’t added her, which complicated things.

Reading the situation, she offered her phone. “Feel free to friend me. If you don’t mind, of course.”

“Um, no, not at all.”

Murder. There was murder in the air all of a sudden, and it came from Yanami and Komari. The kind of aura devised by women to protect other women from predatory men who would use positions of authority to learn their contact details. Highly specific, yes, but very real.

“Let’s get you in that group! There we are! The group chat! The one I’m adding you to! Don’t miss the invite! To the group chat! The literature club group chat!” We men had our own defense measures. Less subtle kinds, maybe, but no less vital to survival.

Shiratama-san held her phone to her chest once it was all set up. “Oh wow, my first high school friend on LINE. That’s you, President! You were my very first.”

More murder. So much murder. But this time I refused to accept responsibility.

I turned away from the immense, seething urges to kill, only to meet Shiratama-san’s puppy dog eyes. “I hope I’m not being annoying when I say how happy that makes me,” she cooed.

“Um. No. You’re good.” I tried to smile at her, but the truth was, a doubt was starting to burgeon inside me.

Was she actually doing this on purpose?

***

What a beautiful Sunday it was. Four lit club members, new and old, made their way to Aeon Mall Toyokawa.

I stood in the main hall, staring up at the massive interior. That hall ran the entire length and was layered into three different floors, shops lining both sides the whole way down. It was a whole shopping district condensed into one ginormous building. I’d never been to a place like this before, and it was admittedly a lot to take in.

Komari gaped at the vast, empty space. “H-holy crap.”

Yeah. Holy crap. The catchphrase of all humankind rendered speechless. I couldn’t help but gape with her.

Yanami scoffed. “Stand back, kids, and follow my lead. Ain’t my first rodeo, so I’ll show you guys how it’s done.”

“Will you?” I asked. Mostly innocently.

She glared. “Oh. My bad. Never mind, everyone, the guy who can’t read and nearly put us on the Iida Line thinks I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

It wasn’t my fault the Iida and Meitetsu trains were right next to each other!

“I want to see how it’s done!” Shiratama-san interjected. She wore a floral, two-tone dress.

Yanami nodded, appeased. “At least one of us has some sense. Know what step one to any mall visit is?”

“No, ma’am!”

“I’ll tell you,” the great mall meister blustered. “It’s sit down and chill.”

“Already?” I couldn’t help but doubt.

She shook her head in disappointment. “Look at this place, Nukumizu-kun. How long do you think it takes to get from one end to the other? A long time. By the time you’ve finished your first lap, you’ve already forgotten the first half. And that’s how you get stuck going in circles.”

“That’s bad how? Sounds like fun.”

“If you’re short-sighted, maybe. Listen, in that first half, you’ve probably already snacked on something yummy. But what if there’s something even better in the second half? Your wallet has a limit. Your tummy has a limit. It’s an endurance run. You sit down and think first so you can plan a route.”

Her wallet had a limit. Her stomach? Not so much. Speaking from experience, of course.

“Okay, so where do we go?” I asked.

“They’ve got drinks and candy over that way. Come along, gang.”

Yanami led us into foreign lands of fast food and cafés. Of lemonades and ice cream. Of cream puffs and chocolates. And her eyes glimmered with desire. The war had begun.

***

I found a table off to the side of all the food places, sat, and immediately melted into the chair. “How can ordering a drink be so exhausting?”

It’d turned into this whole, convoluted thing that I didn’t care to get into the details of. Long story short, I should not have stuck with Yanami. Komari had been smarter. The fact that even Shiratama-san had dipped, completely unprompted, clearly meant she’d sensed the danger too.

I sipped on my iced hojicha.

“Hey, nice spot. Totally empty.”

“Guess who stood and waited for it to be.”

“Want a gold star? You’re so cool and awesome.” Yanami set her green-colored drink on the table. Little pieces of warabimochi littered the bottom with a thick layer of matcha paste on top. Crowning the whole arrangement was a helping of matcha soft serve.

“That thing sure is elaborate.”

“Mm-hmm. It’s called a ‘Matcha Warabimochi Cream Smoothie.’ On a diet, so I’m stickin’ with the drink.” I saw a few bits of the sweet, chewy mochi shoot up through the thick straw.

“Drinks have calories. And that one looks like it has a lot.”

“Okay, but this is Nishio matcha. And it’s a smoothie.”

“Okay.”

Slurp. Up went the mochi.

“Wait,” I said. “Not okay.”

Yanami smirked at me. “Do you even know what diet means, Nukumizu-kun?”

“Other than ‘something you do to lose weight’?”

“So small-minded. I’m always thinkin’ big picture stuff. We’re all on a diet, don’t you see? A diet’s just the stuff you eat. You can’t define that with numbers. Who cares if they’re big or small? It’s not worth the emotional roller coaster. I’m bigger than that now.”

“So you gave up.”

“Says who?!”

Sore loser.

“A diet is usually either good or bad. You’re supposed to watch what you eat, Yanami-san.”

“You and your boxes. Always trying to shove stuff inside ’em. I’m thinking higher concept here.”

“Okay.”

Aaand tuning out. This was brain poison.

“It all boils down to mental framing. Recent research shows that wanting to lose weight can actually nullify calories. Now, enter my mind palace. Matcha. Smoothie. Healthy-sounding stuff, right? I don’t believe this will make me gain weight, thus it will not.”

Didn’t know power scaling had invaded diet theory.

“Sounds like you need some salad senbei.”

“Now you’re getting it.” She siphoned some of the soft serve next.

On an unrelated note, the “salad” part of “salad senbei” came from salad oil specifically.

I’d had just about enough of diet dogma and was ready for someone else to tag in, so I scanned around for Komari or Shiratama-san. I actually found them relatively quickly. A surge of customers had come in, and they were stuck in the whirlpool.

No one send Komari to Tokyo either. But I knew that already.

“So sorry about that!” said Shiratama-san, joined by Komari, after being rescued yet again by Yanami. They each had matcha soft serve. Shiratama-san’s came with shiratama toppings. Whether this was purposeful or not was beyond me. “We ended up copying you two, but then it took so long to decide, and there was this crowd and, well, you saw what happened.”

She sat across from me with that cutesy grin I was starting to get used to. Komari sat next to her.

I spread a map out on the table. “Okay. What next?”

Yanami studied it closely. “I saw a place selling fruit sandwiches. But it could be fun to find the best ramen in the food court. Then again, I could really go for some teppan spaghetti from Ciao. But it is almost lunchtime.”

“Literally everything you just listed is lunch.”

Komari, already in tune-out mode, just nodded along. Shiratama-san smiled, unsure whether to laugh or take her seriously. Unfortunately, Yanami was incredibly serious about this. Now it was up to me to defuse the situation.

I finished my tea. “How about we just do some window shopping and see what we come across? You know, for inspiration. We can chat. Brainstorm?”

We were, nominally at least, here on club business after all. To get to know each other. Break the ice. Mostly for the benefit of the senior members.

Yanami nodded smugly. “I’ve got just the place. There’s a butcher shop that has the most awesome spread of meats you’ve ever seen.”

She, uh, had the spirit? Kind of.

Shiratama-san put her hands together. “Does anybody mind if we do a little clothes shopping? Your blouse is so pretty, Yanami-senpai, you absolutely must pick an outfit for me!”

“Oh. For real? Well, yeah, I might’ve wanted to show off a little. So glad one of us has the decency to notice.” She gave me a look for some reason. Different reaction to Komari’s but just as effective.

I wasn’t about to look this gift horse in the mouth. I stood. “Off we go!”

Komari gave me the stink eye. “C-can I finish eating?”

“Yeah, I’m not very good at eating and walking,” said Shiratama-san.

Right. Of course. I sat my butt back down.

***

Window shopping; noun; the act of perusing items at retail stores without intent to purchase. So not actually “shopping” at all. Kind of a misnomer, no? Blissfully (perhaps even willfully) ignorant of this linguistic crime, the girls were deep in a dress-up frenzy.

“Komari-chan, try this on. You’d be so cute.”

“I agree, Senpai!”

“Whuh?!” she croaked. Correction: Two were in a frenzy. One was the victim. They very nearly got her into the changing room before she slipped away. “I-I have clothes! D-don’t need more!”

By her logic, nudists were the only people allowed to buy clothes.

It was actually kinda fun watching them do their thing from a safe distance. Maybe I could start attending club meetings remotely. That was the dream.

Yanami dipped out of the confrontation with Komari and weaseled up next to me. “Enjoying yourself?”

“More than I thought I would, actually. Was it smart to abandon Komari?”

“She’ll be fine. Shiratama-chan knows her way around people. She’s not too bad.”

The girl in question held a piece of clothing up to Komari. Then another. Then another. Someone had found a new hobby. Surprisingly, they made a pretty good pair, if you ignored the light that had left Komari’s eyes.

“Had me fooled,” I said. “I thought you didn’t like her.”

“Do I look like the kinda girl who would bully my kouhai?”

I chose not to answer. “She, uh, complimented your shirt. Guess you two have more common ground than you thought.”

Yanami shrugged. “Flattery. It’s part of the social contract. You could learn a thing or two. Go on. Your turn.”

“What, like, compliment your outfit?”

She nodded, then did a twirl. Her light brown, frilly blouse…thing sure was, uh, on her body. And her pants were white and, like, baggy and stuff. Or was that a skirt?

“It’s got…colors,” I said.

“Oh god, it’s that bad?”

Sure was. I studied her closer. “It looks good and all, but why are the sleeves just a little too short?”

“They’re called three-quarter sleeves, thank you very much.”

Just three? Why not four? Who was the keeper of the final quarter?

“Uh-huh. Right. Looks chilly is all I’m saying.”

Yanami let out a sigh. With it went the last of her hope in me. “Dude, you can forget all about looking good if you care about the weather. Fashion doesn’t give a crap if it’s cold. That’s what all the hotties say, and they’re right. Take notes.”

“Uh, right. Yes, ma’am.” I wrote that down under “Yanami-isms” in my mental file cabinet. A wise person once said if you’re putting something down, better to put it up. Makes spring cleaning a breeze.

Komari and Shiratama-san started to move, so we followed. “You remembered to invite Yakishio, right?”

“They’ve got a meet coming up, so she said she’s busy. Why?”

“Just wondering. We’re all friends. Speaking of, you haven’t eaten much today.”

Yanami’s expression clouded over. “About that. You’re never gonna believe this.”

No way. Had a doctor finally woken her up? Was it terminal? I braced myself as she faced me with a grim expression. “I think I’m eating too much. The fact that you even asked me that question proves it.”

“Is this a bit? Am I supposed to say the punchline?”

“Save it. It’s just, we’re second-years now, y’know? I’ve gotta act more grown-up. For all the kids who look up to me.” Wow. That was a big step for her. Now for those alleged kids to materialize. She looked at me like she’d read my mind. “I’ve only had tea today. You’ve seriously gotta give me some credit. I can be feminine.”

So that concoction of sugar and calories was “tea” to her. She was right. I wasn’t giving her enough credit. Just not regarding her femininity.

“Wh-what’re you two lollygagging for?” Komari, having escaped Shiratama-san’s grasp, scuttled over.

“Just talking about high fashion and what it means to be a woman,” I said. “Done looking at clothes?”

She shook her head at me. What could it mean?

Shiratama-san appeared next. “Are clothes not your thing, Komari-senpai? If there’s somewhere else you’d rather go, you can tell me.”

“Er, I-I, um…” She croaked and sputtered, then floundered for her phone. She was running on fumes.

“You mentioned somewhere, didn’t you?” I asked mercifully.

“Y-yeah! B-bookstore!” She pulled out a gift card. One of the five thousand yen ones.

“Oh, we got a high roller here.”

Komari nodded giddily and held up two fingers. “Th-the time has come. I’m gonna buy t-two whole volumes.”

Not even gonna spend it all? How frugal. Good news for her future husband. She began leading the way, only to encounter a group of teens and promptly hide behind me. Some things never changed. Which was oddly comforting.

I made for the escalator.

***

Housendou, Aeon Mall Toyokawa branch. Despite the kanji being literally the same as Toyokawa, just read differently, it was headquartered in Toyohashi. This branch, though, was the biggest in the region, and it even came with its own adjoining café that liked to advertise its locally grown ingredients. One guess which part was currently driving Yanami crazy.

“It’s not time yet,” I told her.

“I know what time it is. And no, this isn’t drool. Grown-ups don’t drool.” She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped something from her mouth. Not drool apparently.

I was pretty excited too. Not to the point of drooling, but still. Komari had vanished pretty much as soon as we came in, and Shiratama-san was busy looking at the new arrivals. It was my turn to make myself scarce.

“What’s the point of buying books here specifically?” Yanami said, bringing my train of thought to a complete stop. “You can do that anywhere, can’t you?”

I shook my head. Oh, the ignorance on display. “No two bookstores are alike, Yanami-san. You’ll never find the same thing in the same way twice.”

“So do the cafés have, like, different menus or something?”

Books. Books, Yanami. Not food.

“Bookstores are for more than just buying. They’re for discovering. Different locations have different concepts, which come with different shelf arrangements, different books on display. What you find is a kind of conversation between employee and customer.”

“Oh, I get it! It’s a social thing!”

She could not have been further from the mark. How to get through to her?

“Okay, think of it like classical music. The same symphony can sound different through different conductors and orchestras. Through the kinds of books a particular store decides to show its clientele, it speaks to us. And they all have different things to say.”

“But all you ever buy are manga and light novels.”

Fair. Maybe not the perfect analogy. But there was still plenty of variety to be had there. Regardless, at least some of my wisdom had to have seeped its way into the sponge she called a brain.

Ensuring she was sufficiently distracted by a food magazine, I slinked off to do my own thing. My original plan to beeline for the manga and light novels was postponed after someone’s extremely judgmental comment, so I started my search elsewhere, and that was how I found Shiratama-san eyeing the shelves in the literature section. Creeping up behind her, I saw that it was a historical fiction novel that had her attention. Not really my field of expertise, but I was familiar with period dramas and stuff.

She noticed me, returning her hesitantly outstretched hand. “President? How long have you been there?”

“A few seconds?” I stood next to her. “Didn’t expect that to be your genre.”

“My grandpa got me on them, and I’ve been sort of hooked ever since.” She took a book titled The Recluse in the Leaky Row House, read the back synopsis, then put it back. “I know you planned all this for me.”

“Huh? I-I guess. I mean, in the sense that I wanted to help everyone get a little closer.”

Shiratama-san looked conflicted. Seemed she didn’t buy my flimsy attempt at consolation. “Yanami-senpai doesn’t like me. And Komari-senpai’s scared of me.”

“I, uh, think there’s more to it than that.” Yanami was just jealous and petty. Komari was Komari.

“Sorry. Not the time or place.” She smiled. Her own form of consolation. “I do want to bridge these gaps. I’ll do my best.”

“Right, well, don’t put too much pressure on yourself.”

I calmly left her. But inside I wanted to scream. Things had been going so well, at least on the surface. God, why did people have to be so complicated? There had to be a way to get the others to come around. Maybe food for Yanami, smut for Komari.

Wait. That’d totally work. It really was that easy.

I could hear Yanami now. All it’d take was one snack. Gee, Nukumizu-kun, turns out Shiratama-chan’s swell! You were right all along!

Yeah, I liked the sound of that. Could honestly start simulating her myself. Out with the old, in with the new. Komari was another matter. I started to scour the shelves for bait, then spotted her in the educational section clutching a thick hardback.

“What’s that?” I asked.

She shot me a glance but didn’t move. “I-it’s about clothes. Old w-western fashion. Wanted to use it for r-reference, but…” She showed me the back. The price tag was just a smidge outside of her gift card’s reach. With a sigh, she returned it. Another glance, sharper this time. “Wh-what do you want?”

“You’ve been keeping up with Clocked Out, Locked In this season, yeah?”

“O-oh. Yeah. That’s good.” An ominous and obscene grin spread across her lips.

“Gimme your OTP. Actually, I’m gonna guess Takaya-san, on the right of course, with—”

Komari’s elbow suddenly found itself in my solar plexus. “H-how do you know that?! D-don’t do that again!”

For my astuteness, my reward was pain. For what reason?

Whatever. I had what I needed. Just had to hit up the right place for the goods later.

***

We went to an arcade next. At Yanami’s suggestion, surprisingly enough. We played this VR zombie shooter game with big, bulky headsets and everything. I’d seen it around but never had the chance to try it out. Never thought I would, frankly. It was four player only.

Yanami stretched. “How come you’re so good at shooting games, Komari-chan? What’s the secret?”

“R-rage.” Komari brushed her bangs aside suavely.

“Rage, huh?”

“Rage.”

Why were they looking at me when they said that? I fled their gazes and found Shiratama-san’s instead.

“I’m still a little dizzy,” she laughed. “Sure was intense, huh?” She put her index fingers up to her temples and smiled. Cute. Cloying, but cute.

“Hey, I saw air hockey that way,” Yanami said to Komari. “Wanna go a round?”

“Y-you’re gonna regret that.”

A confident Komari? Now this I had to see.

I started to follow, when Shiratama-san grabbed my sleeve. “Hey, um, I could use a break. Will you come with me?”

“Oh, sure. Let me just let them know where we’ll be.” I searched, but they were quickly being swallowed by the crowd. I hesitated.

Shiratama-san tugged. Hard, this time. “I’ll just come out and say it.”

“Huh?”

She brought her face in close. Her big, round eyes came right next to mine. The world faded away around us as she whispered in my ear. “I want to be alone with you.”

***

Fancy ornaments and baubles glistened in the glass case. Shiratama-san gasped in delight. “Look at how pretty they are. What do you think that necklace is? Amethyst?”

“Uh, yeah. Could be.”

Shiratama-san had brought me to a jewelry store. Same mall. The whole place stank of “you can’t afford this.”

She frowned at me. “Sorry. I don’t mean to bore you.”

“Er, I’m not bored. It’s interesting. I’d never come here on my own.”

“Really? You’re so kind.” She beamed.

For the record, I hadn’t gone along with her because I had an ulterior motive or anything. She was struggling to get along with the other girls. I just wanted to lend a hand. Truly. Cross my heart.

But I wasn’t fooling myself. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. She grinned as she ogled the glitzy accessories. Her shoulder-length hair framed a small, cherubic, yet somehow mature face. Though matching Yanami in height, she was so petite she looked as if she might shatter like porcelain at the faintest touch, sort of like Komari. But unlike Komari, she had a prominent figure that her clothing accentuated. Her features and proportions reminded me of Yakishio. Her perfect skin reminded me of Shikiya-san.

This girl was cuteness incarnate. I couldn’t even blame Yanami for being jealous, really. Don’t get me wrong—Yanami was pretty too, but she was also a lot of other things.

“What’s your birthstone?” she asked.

“Huh? Uh, I was born in December.” I went down the list provided by the store, and right then my phone went off. Again. I’d lost count of how many times it had done that. I had zero doubt it was Yanami. I went for it, but Shiratama-san held my hand still. “U-um.”

“I want you to myself. Just for now. Is that wrong?”

“I, um, well, n-no? I-I guess not?”

“Then a few more minutes won’t hurt, will it?” She bumped her shoulder against mine, guiding me further into the store. “Your birthstone is tanzanite. It represents intelligence and maturity. Sounds just like you, doesn’t it?”

“Y-yup. I get that a lot.”

I swallowed. Was this really happening? Had my spring finally sprung? Was it finally my turn to peak?

No. Unlikely. I remembered who I was—a total dweeb. And her? She was one of the cutest girls I’d ever met. Maybe if I was hot, like the protagonist of some light novel, I’d believe it. But I knew who I was. And someone like me was just along for the ride that was Shiratama-san’s story.

“Let’s see. What’s mine?” she mused.

“Shiratama-san,” I said. “Did you need something from me?”

Her smile twitched ever so slightly. A flaw quickly plastered over with a rejuvenated, somehow even sweeter glow. “I’m okay. Really. I know I got a little pessimistic earlier, but I just needed to get it off my chest.”

“Okay. Then are you waiting on someone?”

Her expression crumbled, and it didn’t return that time. Surprise and confusion filled in the cracks instead. “I… What?”

“You’ve only been pretending to look at accessories. You keep looking around like you’re expecting someone, and for whatever reason you keep pulling me back whenever I try to leave.”

“I’m just…” Her lips shut tight. Her legs shook like they wanted to run, but she was just barely holding them in place.

“Hey, I don’t mean to turn this into an interrogation, but I can only help if you’re open with me.”

Shiratama-san clutched her chest and hung her head. No one said anything for a long while. But when I finally tried to…

“Riko? Is that you?”

Shiratama-san’s head shot up at the voice I didn’t recognize. At the end of her gaze stood a young woman in her mid-twenties maybe, with mellow features and a face that could only be described as one thing: cute.

It didn’t take a detective.

Weakened and hardly audible, Shiratama-san murmured, “Oneechan…”

But it wasn’t the appearance of Shiratama Riko’s older sister that surprised me the most. It was the man standing next to her.

“You’re Nukumizu-kun,” he said. “Class C, right? What are you doing here with Riko-chan?”

It was Tanaka-sensei. Tsuwabuki Japanese teacher. And in the middle of this odd family reunion was me.

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. But Shiratama Riko was quick to recover. Looping her arm around mine and practically throwing herself at me, she blurted, “He’s my boyfriend!”

Huh. Huh?! We were dating?! Since when?! I searched my brain for gaps in my memory to little success, but it would certainly explain her bringing me here. The mushy junk we’d been up to, what could we be other than a pair of lovebirds? Yeah, I could roll with this.

Shiratama-san’s sister froze up for several seconds. “Your boyfriend? I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry. I know. You’ve just been so busy with the wedding, I never had a chance to tell you.” She beamed, as if to close the door on any and all doubts.

Her sister looked at me, still a little shaken. “And how long have you two, um, been together?”

“Uh, it’s sort of a…Schrodinger’s Cat situation,” I said.

“Don’t put him on the spot like that, Oneechan.”

Shiratama-san hugged me tighter and pouted.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. You just surprised me, Riko,” said her sister. “Still…”

“I’m a high schooler now. You had a crush on Tanaka-sensei at my age, didn’t you?”

“Riko!” Her sister’s face turned bright red. The cuteness was hereditary.

Tanaka-sensei put a hand on her shoulder and smiled softly. “We should get going, Minori-san.”

“But Yuuji-san…”

“Sorry to butt in, kids. We’ll be on our way.” He guided her away like a patient parent would a child.

All I could do was stand there in perpetual shock until they were out of sight. And then I kept standing. It was the sensation pressing against my arm that brought me back. Soft. Girl smell good.

“Was she your…?”

She nodded. “My sister, yes.”

“Tanaka-sensei was with her.”

“They’re engaged.”

That explained their acquaintance. But did it explain Nan-JUS? What exactly had that been? It felt like I was still missing something.

Shiratama-san squeezed my arm. She was practically clinging now. In a whisper of a voice, she said, “Let’s go somewhere private.”

***

A brown, fluffy blur whizzed by in front of me. Shiratama-san and I had come to a cat café in the mall. We sat on a wooden bench, a latte warming my hands. I guess this technically counted as private.

“I’m sorry for lying.”

“Huh? I mean, cats aren’t people, so we’re technically alone.”

“I meant the part about you being my boyfriend.”

My life was a lie. Not that I’d actually expected any different. Obviously, we weren’t actually dating and she’d said that for a reason, so I wasn’t surprised or anything, but like, did we have to drop the act just like that?

I took a sip of my latte before I could think myself into a depression. “What was that about anyway?”

“I wanted to show off. To the both of them. The reason I suggested we come here is because I knew they were coming to pick up their rings.”

She went quiet again.

“Okay. But why?” I asked.

“They treat me like a kid. I wanted to shove it in their faces that I’m not.”

So that was why she’d dragged me away from the arcade. Not that I’d expected any different. Nope. Not me…

“I know where your sister’s coming from,” I said.

“Do I really look that immature?” She pouted at me.

I laughed a little and shook my head. “I just mean I have a little sister myself. She’s never really stopped being, you know, little to me. Even though we’re only two years apart.”

“And my sister’s ten years older. Doesn’t help, I imagine.” She took a timid sip of her own latte, careful not to burn her tongue. Then she sighed. “She’s so nice to me. Spoils me, honestly. I love her a lot.”

“Sounds like a good sister.”

Shiratama-san smiled. It was the most genuine expression I’d ever seen her make. “Yeah. When I was little, I actually thought I had two moms. The things kids think, right?” She giggled, but it quickly faded. Her voice dropped. “But she chose Tanaka-sensei. And I should be happy for her.”

I noted the phrasing. “Should” be.

“You and Sensei have a history?”

“Oh, yes. A long one.”

I flinched. Uh-oh. What in the world had I just stepped in? I gripped my latte in an effort to stifle my shaking.

Shiratama-san shook her head. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. He’s our neighbor. He’s tutored me on occasion for a long time now.”

Oh, thank god. I was not mentally prepared for where I thought this was going. All we had here was a typical case of little sister syndrome.

“Guess that means he’ll be your brother-in-law pretty soon,” I said.

She twitched. “I…guess it does. Once they’re married.” Then she got real quiet. Had I touched a nerve?

“It sounds to me like you’re on good terms. I-is that right?”

She slowly looked up. “It’s sort of a long story. Do you have time?” I nodded. Her expression softened. Uncharacteristically so. “So Tanaka-sensei is our neighbor, right? Some days our parents would get home late, and he would take care of us in the meantime.”

“‘Us’ implying your sister too. So he’s older?”

“Five years older. He’ll be thirty this year. Ancient, right?” She laughed joylessly. “For as long as I can remember, they’ve looked after me. It was their faces I looked for when someone came to pick me up from day care.” I caught a glimpse of a smile as she remembered. “He was in college, and she was in junior high. There were nasty rumors, but obviously they weren’t together back then.”

“They were friends for a long time is what you’re saying.”

She nodded. “It made me jealous. I was always trying to insert myself between them. Always snapping at him whenever he got too close. Sometimes I’d even throw tantrums at my sister for spending too much time with him.” Another nostalgic smile.

“You must care about them a lot.”

“I love my sister. Very much.”

I was immensely relieved to hear she was just a normal girl with an affection for her family, as opposed to the conniving gremlin Yanami had her pegged as. But one thing still bothered me.

“So you and Tanaka-sensei are on good terms.”

“I hate that man.”

“Oh.”

Silence. Intensely awkward silence. I looked at the clock in desperation. Lunchtime. Yanami sprang to mind. So naturally, a tortoiseshell decided now was the best time to curl up in Shiratama-san’s lap.

“He thinks I’m his little sister. Like, genuinely,” she went on, stroking the cat’s fur. “I’m still that girl next door he used to babysit, while Oneechan got to grow up. And now she calls him Yuuji-san.” The cat flicked its ears and began to doze. “But I call him Sensei.”

She kept on stroking.

If she was calling him “Sensei” by the time they started dating, that would mean…

“They got together pretty late, huh?”

“Only after my sister graduated high school. And I know he’s a good person and he treats her well, but I just…” She scoffed at herself. “I thought maybe it was me he was waiting on. God, I feel so stupid.” She tried to laugh. Failed. Only a broken voice remained. “I keep thinking: What if I were born first? What would I be calling him right about now?”

I had nothing to say. What could I say? Love was a lot like dreams. Sometimes, it just didn’t work out. And when it did, when you finally found your little sliver of happiness, it was probably only after letting slip so many others.

The cat started to breathe slow and deep.

“The ceremony is the Saturday after next,” she said. “It’s going to be a beautiful garden wedding.”

“Oh. Um. That’s great.”

“I snuck into the venue one night.”

“Hm?” Had I heard right? “Sorry, I think I missed something. You did what at the venue?”

“I snuck in. The police were called.”

Yeah, okay, I’d heard just fine. Here I thought I’d been listening to the lamentations of the lovelorn. Nope. The confessions of a criminal.

“And why did you do that?”

“Because I wanted to leave a mark. Have the last laugh. Do something before my sister took everything from me. It would’ve been my little secret.”

If that were all to it, it might’ve made for a clean, if not bitter­sweet, love story.

“So how’d that turn into you getting involved with the law?”

“I was going to put on my sister’s dress and take a few photos at the chapel. Just to say I did it first.”

“And you couldn’t come up with any other way to express those feelings? Something more legal? A little less insidious?”

“I did, actually. Five ways. I went with the least evil option.”

Welp. I drank some more of my latte. I’d had high hopes for Shiratama-san being marginally normal, but good lord. Were all women like this in real life? I made mental plans to pick up some light novels on the way home. The second dimension would keep me safe.

Shiratama-san grinned wearily. “Sorry for rambling. I know this is a lot. It feels good to get it off my chest, though.”

It was a lot. It sure was a lot.

“It’s fine. I’ll, uh, keep this between us.”

“You can tell the others if you want. I’m the one dragging you all into my problems.” She gently scratched the cat’s neck. It looked pleased with this.

I went over everything in my head one more time. From the sound of things, Tanaka-sensei and her sister had sort of been a thing, and been on the same page about that, for a good long while. Shiratama-san, meanwhile, was forced to play the third wheel while she navigated a whole mess of emotions. Infatuation. Loneliness.

“You’ve had feelings for him for a long time, huh?”

Shiratama-san stopped scratching. Me and my big mouth. “What part of ‘I hate that man’ did you not understand?”

“Er, sorry. Shouldn’t have—”

“I mean, really!” She took a big, long breath. She did not take another. “I hate the way he looks at me like he’s my dad. I hate how he doesn’t treat me the way he treats my sister. I hate that she’s wasting herself on him when she could do so much better. I hate that I can’t call him Oniichan anymore!” She finally stopped to breathe, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “And I hate that I’ll have to call him Oniisan soon, and it won’t be the same.” Her tiny shoulders shook.

“H-hey, you can stop. We don’t have to talk about this.”

She shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes. A single drop fell. “He’s excited, you know. Yuuji-oniichan. He tells me he’s excited that I’ll get to be his real little sister soon. That’s all he sees when he looks at me.”

It couldn’t be easy. Your long-time crush becoming family against your will. You can never be honest about your feelings, because what if they find out? So you twist them. You call him “Oniichan” and call it familial love. You live a lie. It couldn’t be easy.

It was no wonder that she cried.

“I…I tried,” she choked. “I tried to make myself cute. I read my sister’s magazines, used her makeup, and I practiced so much. I practically lived in front of my mirror. I tried, I…I tried. I wanted to be cute so maybe he’d…” She hunched over, tears pouring endlessly. The shaking got worse. “I hate that man. I hate him! I hate him!”

“Hey! Don’t wipe your face on the poor cat!”

“Then get closer.”

She didn’t wait for me to. Shiratama-san leaned in and buried her face in my shoulder. I felt the weight. The shaking as she sobbed. She clung to me, and she cried. So I just let her.

All I could do in the meantime was sit and stare. And regret choosing this particular bench to plant ourselves on. We faced the entire mall, and a big damn window gave every passerby a front-row seat to our business. Which wasn’t to say we had anything to hide, but the thought of someone I knew spotting me in this position was a tad mortifying.

So of course I looked up. And I knew true fear. Because we had an audience. Staring with great, wide-eyed, intent-to-kill faces planted right up against the glass were who else but Yanami Anna and Komari Chika.

Fantastic gecko impressions, really.

I looked back down at the girl crying into my shoulder. At Shiratama Riko: the losing heroine that never was. The literature club’s last hope for salvation.

***

After the absolute insanity that transpired at Aeon yesterday, I decided to skip club and head straight home. Shiratama-san’s confession. Her secret affections. I just needed more time to process it all.

“Welcome home, Oniisama!” Kaju’s house slippers came flip-flopping against the floor.

“Hey. You’re back early.”

“Things are calming down with the student council.”

“That’s good. They had you pretty busy for a while.” I started toward the living room.

But Kaju blocked my way. “Aren’t you going to get changed first?”

“I was gonna watch an anime I recorded. Why? Am I not allowed in?”

“How about you go change and I’ll start on some tea. We have senbei too.”

“Huh? Hey—”

With the litheness of a professional basketball player, Kaju shepherded me toward the stairs. Suspicious, but she wouldn’t be acting strange without a reason. That trust carried me all the way to my bedroom door. But there, I stopped. A thought. I was operating under the assumption that she was trying to keep me out of the living room.

What if she was trying to get me to my room?

My mind went to a million different places at once. Was there something she wanted me to see? Or had she found something of mine she shouldn’t have? Was my stash under the rug compromised?

Panicked, I threw the door open.

“Welcome, Nukumizu-kun. Fancy meeting you here.”

“L-look who it is.”

Wouldn’t you know it, it was the two worst possible people it could have been. Yanami Anna and Komari Chika. And they were currently digging around my shelves. I seriously wished they weren’t.

“Dare I ask, why are you here?” It took great patience on my part to not blow a fuse.

They looked incredulous. “Why do you think?” Yanami said. “You weaseled your way out of explaining yourself yesterday, but time to fess up. What happened with Shiratama-chan?”

“Sp-speak, enemy of women,” Komari accused.

I really didn’t have a leg to stand on this time. Or did I? What had I actually done wrong in this scenario? By my calculations: absolutely nothing.

“Everyone relax,” I said. “I’m sorry we disappeared on you guys, but there was a very good reason for that.”

“Good enough to cover the crap we saw at the cat café, I hope,” Yanami retorted.

I nodded confidently. “Absolutely. I can one hundred percent explain why she was crying on my shoulder, I assure you.”

“Kaju would like to hear this explanation.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. There she was, standing right behind me with a tray of tea and senbei. Smiling.

“When did you get there?”

“Just now,” she said calmly. “I have fresh tea.” She started placing cups down on the low table.

“Well, thank you, but Big Bro’s talking about grown-up stuff right now, if you don’t mind.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m a grown-up.” The fourth cup went down, and so did Kaju’s butt. Yanami and Komari joined her.

“Come, Nukumizu-kun,” beckoned the former.

“S-sit down,” commanded the latter.

“You don’t want your tea to go cold, do you?” cooed Kaju.

She and Komari patted the floor cushion. Yanami gestured with her head while she nibbled on a rice cracker. And you know, somehow, I didn’t feel very safe. Even my own sister, my one hope for salvation, had turned against me.

I surrendered to my fate and sat. Yanami swallowed the remainder of her senbei. Chew, girl. “That took a whole minute.”

“I… Okay?” What was she, my teacher?

“All of us combined, that comes out to three minutes you’ve stolen. I could’ve made cup ramen in that time. Apologize.”

I wasn’t buying that. I, for one, knew she wasn’t patient enough to wait the full three minutes. I’d seen it with my own eyes. But hey, nothing like a classic Yanami moment to loosen the nerves.

I sipped some tea. “Okay. Who wants to start us off? Ask me anything.”

Yanami reached for a second cracker. “First: What did you two ditch us to go do?”

“Private. Next question.”

I heard the senbei snap in her mouth. I gave her a look.

Komari leaned against the table. “Wh-why was she crying with you?”

Tough crowd. They were playing hardball. “That’s between me and Shiratama-san. Would rather keep it to ourselves. Next question.” I went for some senbei.

Kaju pulled them away. “I’m disappointed in you, Oniisama.”

“What? Why?”

With grim finality, she handed the container to Yanami. “I’m disappointed that you would treat your fellow club members like this. Your family, by your own words.”

“He calls us his what?!” Yanami blurted, quickly swallowing her third senbei. Again, without chewing.

“Kaju,” I said, “are you making things up?”

“Your eyes speak volumes, Oniisama.”

Then they were not to be trusted. To be regarded heretofore with great suspicion. Kinda like the way my captors were looking at me now.

“Look, guys, we really didn’t do anything that deserves explaining,” I tried to protest. It didn’t soften their gazes any.

Yanami sighed, then produced a small, black card. “You made me do this, Nukumizu-kun.”

“Do what? What is that?”

“An SD card. It was hidden under the rug in this very room.”

Shit.

I started to hold my hand out for it but noticed Kaju staring at me. I couldn’t look her in the eye. “It has school stuff in it. And it’s password locked.”

Yanami stoically presented the card to Kaju. “Any ideas?”

“His passwords are generally the birthdays of his favorite voice actors,” she said. “I would only need a few minutes.”

Bad. Very bad. The contents of that card were incriminating enough, but the folder names alone would be the end of me. And then I remembered that Shiratama-san herself had said I could tell the others if I wanted. That was enough for me. I very much wanted to.

“Okay. Fine,” I surrendered. “I’ll tell you everything.”

I looked solemnly at my oppressors. They swallowed in anticipation.

This wasn’t blackmail. I was absolutely not selling out my kouhai. Because I would never do that.

***

“D-die.”

Everybody’s a critic. Komari munched on senbei, glaring at me like I was worth less than the crumbs in her mouth.

“Did you hear a word I said? I did nothing wrong. Heck, I was being a pretty good senpai if you ask me.” How was that so hard to understand? I went for the last senbei with a sigh.

Kaju snatched it from me. “Oniisama, that girl is off limits. You are too weak.”

“What’s that supposed to—”

“It means she’s off limits!” Kaju turned away with big, pouty cheeks.

First Komari, now Kaju. I could only imagine the venom Yanami was itching to spit.

I turned to her. Only to find her dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief.

“Oh my gosh, I had no idea!” she blubbered.

She was sobbing. Like, legit sobbing.

“Uh, Yanami-san?”

She threw herself onto the table and started to pound it. “Do you even have a soul?! How are you not torn up about this?! Shiratama-chan had her childhood friend stolen! It’s besties versus bitches, Nukumizu-kun, and there’s only ever one winner! It’s criminal!”

“Actually, her sister’s a childhood friend of his too. That makes Shiratama-san the criminal in this scenario.”

“Uh, nuh-uh. ’Cause she’s a bestie, isn’t she?”

That was all it took to escape the law, huh? Yanami sniffled and thought about her own logic. Looked like she was getting lost in it, which was my chance to change the subject.

“So, we good? That clear everything up? Meeting adjourned.” I made to stand, but Kaju and Komari, flanking me, grabbed hold of my clothes.

“There’s more of the story to tell, Oniisama.”

“But I told you everything that happened.”

“Y-you know why she was suspended.” I could just barely make out the sharp look in Komari’s eye through her bangs.

“Hey, I said I’d talk, but that doesn’t mean I have to spill every little—okay, fine.”

Interrogation tactic. Give up before they can hurt you. I gave them the summary of her wedding venue trespassing story.

I sipped. The tea had long gone cold. “There. That’s literally everything. There’s nothing more I can tell you.”

“Good job.” Kaju patted me on the head. Wasn’t my sister just the nicest?

Yanami blew her nose, crumpled the tissue up, and tossed it toward the bin. She looked pretty nonplussed. “She should feel lucky all that got her was a suspension. That’s, like, actually a crime.”

A rare nugget of common sense from her. Side note, she’d totally missed, and I wasn’t picking that tissue up myself.

“It’s not like she was hurting anyone, though. She just wanted to wear her sister’s dress and take a few photos. Just cute girl things.”

“Sneaking into a wedding venue at night isn’t ‘cute girl things.’”

True enough. Was starting to worry she was using up all her normal person juice for the year with all these totally reasonable statements. Regardless, she had a point. Shiratama-san was certainly cute—but also a little bit nuts. That coming from me, the guy who practically ran a weirdo day care.

Maybe our desperation for members was clouding our judgment a little.

“You might be right, Yanami-san.”

“Yeah, so it might be best for everyone if we just—”

“I-I think…!” Komari’s voice cracked. As if startled by her own volume, she suddenly hung her head. “I-I think we m-maybe shouldn’t be so judgmental. Because she’s…not suspended anymore.”

It was a little uncanny, hearing Komari be so frank yet still so skittish. I nodded. “Took the words right out of my mouth.” Yanami gave me a sarcastic look that said “really?” that I ignored. Yeah, I was “really” talking out of my ass right now. “We have no right to judge her. We’re all Tsuwabuki, and Konuki-sensei asked us a favor. We should try to have her back.”

I was met with silence. Uh-oh. Wrong conclusion?

After exchanging glances with Komari, Yanami pointed out, “You realize that we’re accessories now that we’ve all heard her situation. Her sister’s wedding is coming up, and if she pulls something again, it’ll be on the lit club.”

“That’s true, but…”

Yanami shook her head in resignation when I lost steam. “All right. We’ll talk to her.”

“Huh? You guys?”

“Some things take a girl’s touch. That work for you?” I nodded. She stretched. “Cool. Whew, that work up an appetite for anybody else?”

Kaju stood. “I’ll get us some more tea and snacks.”

“Oh, thanks. That wasn’t shade, promise.” She waved to her as she left. Not shade, no, but a little bit of social engineering for sure.

I waited for her to be totally gone. “So, about that SD card.”

“Oh.” Yanami crawled around on all-fours, eventually making it to the bin and the crumpled tissue next to it. “Scrunched it up with this on accident. Want it back?”

Slowly and with a deadened expression, I shook my head. So Yanami shrugged innocently and tossed it.

***

SHIRATAMA RIKO INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT
INTERVIEWER: YANAMI ANNA

The interviewee, Shiratama Riko (henceforth referred to as Shiratama-chan), sits in front of me. She looks nervous. It makes me nervous too.

I offer some Jelly Mix. She takes a cube. Her hands are small. Her skin is pale and pretty. Like shiratama. And kinda like me when I was a first-year. You shoulda seen me.

SHIRATAMA-CHAN: Thank you. These are the ones with the edible wrapping, right? I love those!

She unwraps the packaging. She’s right. As a veteran, I can confirm that, at least when it comes to jelly fruit snacks, those oblaat wrappings are much more fun to eat than the sugar-coated stuff.

SHIRATAMA-CHAN: Nothing screams “Toyohashi” quite like this stuff, huh? I remember being surprised when I learned other regional variants all use sugar.

Regional? But isn’t the sugar-covered kind just the fancy stuff? You only eat it when you’re celebrating something. My dad always got it for me for my birthday as a kid. I tell her that, and she laughs.

SHIRATAMA-CHAN: I’ve never heard that before. I like your dad.

She eats the candy. This calls for a Yanami family meeting, but anyway.

INTERVIEWER: So, Shiratama-chan. I want to talk about last Sunday.

She freezes. I start to say something else, but then she lowers her head.

SHIRATAMA-CHAN: Right. I totally stole your president. I’m sorry. I really do think that was mean of me.

INTERVIEWER: I mean, I don’t actually care what you do with him.

SHIRATAMA-CHAN: You don’t? He’s just so wonderful, I was worried I was imposing on him too much. I was expecting you to chew me out, to be totally honest.

Literally what is she talking about? Nukumizu-kun? “Wonderful”? The girl must be desperate. As her senpai, I have a moral duty to set her straight. I sit up as tall as I can.

INTERVIEWER: Shiratama-chan, you do know that’s Nukumizu-kun you’re talking about, yes? The guy who’s really weird about his sister? Can’t form a proper sentence without adding an “uh” or “um” every other word? Acts like he’s all that? Weighs more than…nobody. Forget that last part. He’s the one you’re talking about?

She cocks her head all cutesy. She looks confused.

SHIRATAMA-CHAN: Yes, that’s the one. So are you two…dating? Is that it?

I jump to my feet. The audacity.

INTERVIEWER: Uh, no? What? Hello? What did I do to deserve this?

She looks scared. My bad. Lost my cool. Her reactions are still cute, though. Sorta like me when I was a first-year. You really shoulda seen me.

I sit back down and nibble on a jelly cube. It restores my sanity.

INTERVIEWER: Look, we don’t do romance in the lit club. It’s banned. Not that I’d go for Nukumizu-kun of all people if it wasn’t. Guy’s more jellyfish than man. Wait, what were we talking about again?

SHIRATAMA-CHAN: I’m not sure.

She holds her finger up to her temple. It’s very cute. Like me when I was a first-year. Seriously. You had to be there.

***

I turned away from the monitor. It was after school, we were in the AV room, and I’d just finished reading Yanami’s report. That was what she called it anyway.

“What did I do to deserve this, Yanami-san?”

“What didn’t you do, honestly.”

“E-evil man,” spat Komari. Wonderful.

So much for talking. I thought the whole point of Yanami’s “interview” with Shiratama-san had been to find common ground.

“Thoughts, Komari?” I asked. “She says I’m wonderful. Good judge of character, I think. Sharp eyes that cut straight to the soul.”

“Y-yours are broken.” She then promptly gave me the cold shoulder.

Yanami sat and started typing.

“We don’t need more anecdotes. We’re doing this for Shiratama-san, not to stroke your ego. Stay on topic.”

She stopped and gave me a look. “For the record, she’s only saying that crap because you go starry-eyed every time she looks in your general direction.”

Was that so wrong? Was I not allowed that much?

As she and I continued to bicker, Komari suddenly stood.

“I-I’ll talk to her.”

That shut us up. She smirked. “S-some things take a girl’s touch.”

“Pretty sure I heard that line yesterday,” I said.

But hey, she was willing, and that was rare. Godspeed, vice prez.

***

SHIRATAMA RIKO INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT
INTERVIEWER: KOMARI CHIKA

The subject is doing homework when I enter. I sit across from her, but she doesn’t notice me. I am forced to resume reading my book on my phone.

“Oh, Komari-senpai. I didn’t see you. You should have said something.”

Time elapsed: several minutes. Upon acknowledging me, she smiles and puts away her writing implement.

“What’s going on? Why is everyone coming in one at a time? Feels like I’m going through rounds of interviews.”

Her scrutinizing eyes betray the nature of her cloying smile. She’s on to me. I pretend to return to my phone.

“You want to ask me about Sunday, don’t you? It’s okay. I don’t bite.”

The subject grows impatient. Common practice dictates I press her now, but being the literature club member that I am, I must consider the perspicuity of my words more carefully. I thus opt to communicate through text, when a crisis emerges.

“Oh. Is your battery low? You can borrow my charger if you want.”

Indeed. My reserves dangerously depleted, I am forced to make a tactical retreat.

***

Come on, man. Yanami and I shared knowing looks.

“Komari, did you just go in, sit down, then leave?”

She jumped slightly, little tears pooling in her eyes. “I d-did my best.”

“Yeah, she did her best. Don’t be a jerk, Nukumizu-kun.” Yanami patted her on the head. As if we weren’t on the exact same page.

I set that aside for now and returned to the matter at hand. “Okay,” I said, “so you’ve both had your talks. Unfortunately, we’ve made exactly zero progress toward our goal.”

“Our ‘goal’? Your goal, you mean. You never told us any goal.” Yanami crossed her legs authoritatively.

“Because it went without saying. Break the ice and show her we’re on her side. By giving her a community, we can hopefully prevent her from repeating past mistakes.”

“So we’re reforming criminals now? Seriously?”

We might’ve been if anyone but me were taking this even remotely seriously.

“Anyway, that’s that. She’s been in there alone for a while, so let’s join her.”

But they just stared.

“What?”

They stared some more.

“So, what, you just get to sit there and criticize?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I-it’s your turn,” Komari said.

My turn? For an interview? I waved my hand in denial. “No way, are you kidding me? This might come as a shocker to you two, but I’m not great with girls. Especially one-on-one. Sunday was a fluke. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Yanami and Komari lumbered to their feet. Murder.

“Looked like you were handling yourself just fine during your little cat café date,” Yanami growled.

“A-apologize to all cat-kind,” said Komari.

I sensed danger. “But guys, I’m a boy. You really think I’m gonna be the one to crack her shell?”

“Obviously. She thinks you’re wonderful,” Yanami said. “Who could be better for the job?”

“G-go, enemy.”

Those two were getting real comfortable with walking all over me lately.

***

I knocked. From inside, I heard Shiratama-san tell me to come in, so I did.

She flashed me a composed smile. “Good evening. Have a seat.”

“Uh, okay.” I sat across from her.

“In a minute or less, please introduce yourself and state your reason for applying today.” She waited just long enough for me to flounder in confusion for a while, then giggled to herself. “Sorry. I had interviews on the brain and wanted to have a little fun.”

Cute prank for a cute girl. But I could ponder that later.

“I’m sorry too. For, well, how weird this must have been.”

“I understand. You have your concerns.” The humor in her expression evaporated. “I assume you told the others?”

It took me a beat to mentally recover from the shift. “I, uh, did have to fill them in.”

“I understand. I’d be a little scared of me too.”

I didn’t know how to respond. She smiled awkwardly to soften the silence. This was not going well.

With feigned vigor, I said, “Just know that none of us is out to get you or anything. We just want to get to know you, so the lit club can be, you know, a place for you. Um…” Words were quick to fail me. I had to feel for more, and I found them again in familiar places. “Komari and I. We were in sort of a similar boat last year. Nowhere to really belong.” Shiratama-san started to speak before catching herself and shutting her lips again. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being alone. It’s just, I found the lit club. And then I made friends through it. And turns out it’s…not so bad. Y’know?”

I scratched my face. Nervous, all of a sudden.

Shiratama-san was quiet for a while. “You’re all good people.”

“I mean, it’s give and take, right?”

She began to fashion a smile but quickly gave up the effort. “I can’t ignore these feelings I have.”

“You don’t mean—”

She shook her head. “I’m not plotting to steal him back. I’m not that delusional. He’ll never be mine.” Resignation twisted her voice. “But I refuse to have regrets. I want to fight back. Struggle. Throw myself off the deep end. Whatever it takes to put it all to bed for good.”

I chewed on every syllable of her dull, monotone declaration. “So what exactly does that entail for you?”

A naive question, perhaps. But how could I not ask? She already had a criminal record. I couldn’t not intervene if she planned on expanding her rap sheet.

“Good question. Last time it was putting on my sister’s dress and holding a little photo shoot at the chapel, but I made two mistakes there.”

“What were those?”

Shiratama-san blinked her big, round eyes, recovering her enigmatic smile in all its inscrutable glory. “First: They don’t actually keep the dress at the venue until the day of. It was a total waste of time from the start.”

Huh. Interesting. I stifled the urge to quip and gestured for her to continue.

“The second mistake was assuming I’d be safe at night, but as soon as I got in, there were guards on me. Professionals, am I right? Rent-a-cops everywhere. Real ones too.”

“Anyway!” Too much information. “How did you even get inside in the first place? It had to have been locked.”

Her eyes gleamed. “I actually worked that out myself. I made this tool, see—”

Too much. Too much incriminating information. I was standing in a verbal minefield.

“Let’s talk about something else! So you learned that it’s bad to make trouble for people. Right?”

“Right. I learned that lesson well. I’ll have to be more subtle next time.” She stuck her tongue out and bopped herself on the head. The universal gesture for those who hadn’t learned jack. But, it was cute, so yes, I did consider letting her off the hook. As long as she kept from breaking the law. Please, for the love of God. “Don’t worry. The last thing I want is to drag your club down with me. I’ll keep my distance.”

“Huh?” I felt a sudden and poignant sense of loss. Like something had just slipped through my fingers. “Wait—”

“I don’t want to implicate the lit club in anything, so whatever I do, I’ll do it alone from now on.” Shiratama-san took her bag and silently stood.

“Hold on.”

“If things go well, and I’m still around at Tsuwabuki, I hope I can come visit.”

If she was “still around”? She was seriously that determined? She was willing to wager her entire high school career on this?

I stood. Not at all silently. “Wait a second, Shiratama-san. Alone? You can’t do that.”

“No? Are you offering to be my partner in crime?”

“I…”

She simply smiled and reached for the doorknob.

We were the same, she and I. The way she pushed others away. The way she rejected their company when she needed it most. She and the whole literature club, they were one and the same. Every single one of us was an idiot who tried to take on the world by ourselves.

But it was that same bunch of idiots that showed me things could be different.

I stormed toward her and grabbed her arm. “No, Shiratama-san.”

She stiffened. “I don’t want to make problems for everyone.”

Her voice was low. She spoke more to the floor than to me directly.

“Problems are for sharing.”

Yanami. Yakishio. Komari. Heck, even our senpai. Even me, not least of all. We were all a bunch of screwed up problem havers. Always making them someone else’s. And yet we still called each other friends. And sure, I might’ve complained a little—okay, a lot—but I’d never once held that against them. Not once.

“The absolute worst thing you can do when you’re at wit’s end is isolate yourself,” I said. “You don’t have to do that. You have me. You have the literature club. We’re in this together.”

The tension drained from her. “We…are?”

“We are. I promise.”

Shiratama-san finally whipped around to face me. Big blobs of tears clung desperately to the corners of her eyes. “You’ll really help me?!”

Yep, we sure…would? Was that what I’d said? Could’ve sworn the message here was “never go it alone.” How’d we get here?

“I, uh, did say we were in this together, didn’t I?”

“Thank you so much. Honestly, I’ve been so unsure about everything. I never expected this in a million years. Gosh, look at me. I’m a mess. These aren’t crocodile tears, I swear.” She clumsily wiped them, giggling.

Cute. Wait. Not cute. Er. Yes cute, but no.

Suddenly, the door exploded open, and in stormed the senpai squad.

“Borrowing this!” snapped Yanami.

“C-come here!” Komari barked. “Now, this!”

“Hey!” I protested in vain.

They tugged this out into the hallway. “This” had a name.

“Nukumizu-kun,” Yanami hissed, pressing her finger against my chest, “you cannot be serious! You’re actually going to help her commit an actual crime?!”

“W-well?! Are you?!” Komari’s tuft wobbled in rage.

“I mean, I wasn’t until, well, you saw the way she was,” I rambled. “I sorta had to roll with the punches.”

“The one thing you suck at, and you pick now to do it?! I oughta punch you!”

“B-be better!” Komari snapped.

This was not constructive criticism. Just then, the door opened a crack. Shiratama-san peeked through.

“Am I, um, causing problems?”

We all took one look at her sad eyes and upturned eyebrows, then at each other. We shook our heads in unison.

Intermission: Let There Be Midnight Snacks

Intermission:
Let There Be Midnight Snacks

THE WEEK FOLLOWING SHIRATAMA’S RETURN FROM her suspension, Yanami and Komari found themselves alone in the club room with her.

Yanami eyed the door while she idly munched on Pretz. “Where’d Nukumizu-kun go?”

“Th-the nurse’s office.” Komari didn’t bother looking up from her phone.

“Ah. Konuki-sensei. No rest for the club president.” Munch. She pushed the end of the pretzel stick into her mouth with her index finger then offered a box to Shiratama. “Want one?”

“Oh, thank you.” She put down the yellowing pages of an old club journal with one of her trademark smiles. She opened the package inside the box before a repressed laugh escaped her lips.

“What’s so funny?” asked Yanami.

“We might have more in common than I thought.”

Shiratama nibbled, her head tilted at the cutest angle possible.

“You a purist too? Plain’s best, huh?”

“That too, but I mostly meant how I’m also always carrying snacks with me.” She pulled out a girly bag of soft, chewy candies.

Yanami was impressed. “I knew you had taste. A girl’s only as good as her snacks, after all. Guys just don’t understand. It’s always ‘you’re still eating?’ this, ‘maybe you should slow down’ that.”

The new girl raised an eyebrow. “Are you talking about the president?”

“What? No,” Yanami refuted flatly. “Who said anything about Nukumizu-kun?”

Shiratama didn’t seem convinced but ultimately chose the path of least resistance. She offered the bag of soft candies. “Have one.”

“You’re the best!”

“Komari-senpai?”

“O-oh,” she grunted. “Th-thanks.”

And so there was peace. For a time.

Yanami chewed her candy with gusto. “Name a more iconic duo than a girl and her food.”

“I know what you mean. I can’t stop eating or I’ll lose weight like nobody’s business.”

“You what?” It was like an ice age in Yanami’s heart.

Shiratama’s, however, was filled with innocence. “You’re the same, right? Three square meals are never enough to stay healthy. That’s why you snack.”

Yanami thought long and hard about her answer. Very long. “Yep.” She had to send a warning glance Komari’s way to keep her quiet before leaning in close. “Hey, so what’s your secret?”

“My secret? I guess I just try to eat whenever I notice I’m not doing anything.”

“That’s how you stay thin?”

“Um, no. The opposite. Isn’t that what we’re talking about?”

Yanami thought long and hard. Perhaps the hardest she ever had.

Shiratama, innocence incarnate, beamed. “I had cake before bed just last night, in fact. I know it’s bad for your skin, but it’s so hard for me to eat dinner. Do you have anything like that you eat when it’s late?”

“I had…cup ramen last night.” With every word, Yanami died a little more inside.

Komari was at a loss.

“Wow!” Shiratama put her hands together gleefully. “I can never finish those. And don’t get me started on the extra-large ones. Who can eat all that if you’re not a boy in a sports club or something, right?”

“Yeah. Totally.”

Like a verbal vampire, Shiratama continued to rave until all that remained was not a girl, but ashes formerly known as Yanami. Little more than the brittle residue of burned incense. Komari, meanwhile, with trembling hands, put in her earbuds and started up her music app.

“But I can actually finish convenience store lunches now, so I think I’m getting better,” Shiratama continued. “What’s your secret, Yanami-senpai? How do you eat so much?”

“Dunno. Y’know all the seasoning and garnishes you put on the noodles at the end? Dump ’em in at the beginning… Maybe that’ll help.”

And then she went still. Never to move again. Komari rose and found a comfortable spot to press her forehead against the wall.

“Um, guys? Is something wrong?”

There was no response, for they were only corpses. So she went back to reading.

Loss 3: It Takes a Thief

Loss 3:
It Takes a Thief

THE DAY AFTER RESIGNING MYSELF TO EVIL, AT THE old annex’s fire escape. Lunchtime.

I leaned against the railing and pierced my milk carton with the straw. “Sorry for dragging you guys out here.”

In front of me, sitting on the stairs and opening their lunches, were Ayano Mitsuki and Sakurai Hiroto.

“What’s this about, anyway? This isn’t like you.” Ayano looked askance at me as he bit into his bacon-wrapped quail egg. Guy always did have fancy lunches. Perks of having parents who liked to cook.

“Whatever it is, I’ve braced myself.” Sakurai-kun, with the placid grin of a Buddhist statue, grabbed a length of boiled fuki with his chopsticks. He’d just recently started cooking himself and even made the student council president’s lunches. Total house husband vibes.

“Thanks,” I said. “I wanted to pick your brains about this new student the lit club’s been looking after.”

Secrets would only make this more complicated, so I told them everything. Piece by piece.

Ayano put his chopsticks down. “A lot of that sounds private.”

“Obviously don’t go spreading it around, but I had permission to share.” To how many people was ambiguous, but this was probably fine. Probably.

“I’d heard bits and pieces, but definitely not all that,” Sakurai-kun said. He stared at a meat-wrapped burdock root with that well-practiced look of exhaustion on his face.

“She says she wants to settle things,” I continued. “But the guy’s going to be her brother-in-law. Can’t exactly confess and move on like nothing happened. I don’t have a clue what she’s planning.”

Ayano nodded and picked his chopsticks back up. “With a record like hers, you’re right to be worried. If she pulls the same kind of stunt again, she won’t get another slap on the wrist.”

He turned to Sakurai-kun, who looked up in thought. “I can’t speak for the faculty, but I’ve certainly never heard of two consecutive suspensions.”

The implications were obvious. I downed the rest of my milk. “That’s why I wanted some advice. I’m sorta stuck helping her now, but I really don’t want a run-in with the law. And I’m, well, a guy, so I’m not sure how to come up with an alternative that’ll satisfy a girl’s, uh, sensibilities, y’know?”

Their confusion was immediate and palpable. They looked at each other.

“Nukumizu,” Ayano said, “you know we’re guys too, right?”

“Yeah. I think you’d have better luck asking some of your clubmates,” Sakurai-kun agreed.

Naturally, I’d anticipated this. “That’s the thing. It’s taken me a year, but I think I’ve figured it out. The lit club girls…aren’t girls.”

They gaped like they wanted to retort but bit their tongues. Literally.

“Honestly, you two run laps around them in terms of femininity. So think you can help?”

Ayano scrunched his brow. “I guess I could probe some acquaintances, but don’t get your hopes up.”

“Same here. I’m not particularly confident that I can speak on behalf of all women, to be honest.”

That was enough for me. Being in the lit club had seriously done a number on my grip on normalcy. “Now you’d better eat before the bell rings.” Sakurai-kun started to put up his lunch box.

I’d lost track of time. He was right. If I waited to eat this till later, I risked it being snatched by Yanami. I opened up my curry bread packet and listened to their anecdotes while I ate.

That was when I remembered the sorts of girls they were acquainted with. I immediately forced myself to forget again.

***

You could cut the tension in the club room with a knife. Yanami and Komari were dead silent. Before Shiratama Riko were three envelopes. The big, A4-sized ones for fitting full sheets of paper or notebooks. On them were written the kanji for “pine,” “bamboo,” and “plum” respectively. Denotations for rankings, of sort.

“I compiled three plans last night. Please, take your pick, President.” She gestured to me across the table.

What if I didn’t want to pick?

“Go on, Mr. President,” urged Yanami, to my side.

“H-hurry it up, President,” pressed the angry one, to my other side.

They literally only ever called me that when it suited them.

After much waffling, I picked bamboo. Plan B, as it were. A truly middle-of-the-pack choice. How Japanese of me.

“Is this a flyer for real estate?” I asked.

A rental, to be precise. Quaint little place up in the mountains just north of Futagawa Station.

“I found the perfect property down in Futagawa,” Shiratama-san said. “Quiet. Few neighbors. It even has a basement—”

I returned the flyer to the envelope. “Can I see the others?”

“But I haven’t told you the plan yet.”

And I wanted to keep it that way. I went for pine (Plan A). Inside was a travel brochure. The cover depicted a big, fancy cottage on the water.

“What is this?”

“They’re going to Tahiti for their honeymoon. They’re always busy, so they’re using it as an excuse to relax.”

Yanami had snatched the brochure from me before Shiratama-san was even done speaking. “No way, this is so romantic! Imagine laying back, gazing at the stars together.” But the light of secondhand excitement left her eyes as quickly as it had arrived. “Right. Honeymoons. First wedding. Then honeymoon…”

We were dangerously close to one of her episodes. I gave Komari the signal. She popped a dried plum in Yanami’s mouth. Still very visibly dead inside, she chewed while I gently retrieved the brochure from her hands.

“What’s the plan?” I asked.

“My sister and I look nearly identical from behind,” Shiratama-san said. “We rent the neighboring cottage, then when night comes, we swap places and—”

Back in the envelope it went. That left the plum plan, and I prayed beyond hope that it would be a decent one. In the final envelope was a bunch of random documents and catalogs.

“Is this your sister’s venue?”

“That’s right. Those are all for the wedding. Brochures, quotes, estimates, the seating chart—I made copies of everything.” Shiratama-san began to sort the many, many papers but stopped. She’d frozen on a picture of a pure white dress with long sleeves.

A wedding dress.

“This is it,” she said. “What I intended to wear and take photos in at the altar.” She shook her head and turned it over. “My sister was first in everything. I wanted this. Just this one little thing I could say I had first. Then maybe I could finally come to terms with it. Call Tanaka-sensei ‘Oniisan’ like I’m supposed to.” A moment of stunned silence later, and she began to collect them again. “It’s ridiculous. Let’s go with one of the other—”

I lurched forward and slammed my hand down on the papers. “Let’s do this one!”

“Nukumizu-kun?!” blurted Yanami.

But really. Had she heard our other options?

Shiratama-san turned her eyes up at me, blinking several times. “But it’ll only be there on the day of. How will we take photos?”

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to put that exact dress on and do that, but what’s stopping you from taking photos anyway? In a different dress?”

“At the chapel?”

“At the chapel.”

“Not enough.” That threw me for a loop. Not enough? Shiratama-san leaned forward. “What if we got photos with Tanaka-sensei?”

“At the chapel?”

She nodded. “At the chapel.”

That was pushing it. Take a couple photos at a wedding chapel, with the groom, without him knowing? She could not be serious. Even she had to understand how insane an idea that was.

Her eyes glided over the other two envelopes.

“Let’s do it.”

She lit up. “Really?! Then let’s not waste time.”

Immediately, Yanami and Komari grabbed me by my arms and dragged me to a corner of the room.

“What’s the deal?” I demanded.

“You’re actually going through with this?!” Yanami barked. “I don’t know about you, but I would rather not have a criminal record!”

“D-die alone! Don’t d-drag us down with you!” Komari sputtered.

What were they losing their heads over a few photos for? All we were doing was crashing a wedding so we could get a few candid shots of the groom completely against his…will.

“Wait, is this illegal?”

They nodded.

Yanami sighed and whipped around. “I totally get you, Shiratama-chan, but this isn’t as simple as you’re making it out. Just renting a dress’ll be real pricey, and that’s not even touching how expensive a professional photographer will be. We don’t have that kind of money.”

“I know. I thought of that.” Shiratama-san placed a card on the table. The kind distributed by Toyohashi Shinkin Bank. ToyoShin for short. “I’ve been saving every bit of birthday and New Year’s money I got for the past fifteen years. This has a million yen on it easy.”

Our jaws hit the floor. We were extremely speechless.

She pushed it forward. “It’s yours. Use whatever you need.”

Ours. Yeah. No. Just accept a casual million yen like it’s nothing.

I could feel the others staring holes into me, so I stepped forward. “We, uh, definitely need money, but you can help when that comes up. Keep it for yourself.”

“What he said,” Yanami agreed. “You’ve still gotta pay for transportation and food and stuff. Living’s expensive.”

I could see those hands creeping.

“I’m asking a lot from everyone, though. This is all I can do to help.” Shiratama-san’s voice fell to a murmur. Her head hung low.

Even more reason we couldn’t accept. “Listen, we’re your senpai. That’s all the motive we need to lend a hand.”

Komari nodded in agreement.

“Oh, thank you. Thank you, everyone.” Shiratama-san wiped the beginnings of tears from her eyes.

“Still,” I said, awkwardly scratching my face, “it’s not gonna be easy getting those photos under your sister’s nose.”

We’d have to study those papers thoroughly. Come up with a step-by-step plan.

Wait. We were doing this. We were actually doing this. When did that happen? Even Komari looked convinced, and Yanami was on board the moment she smelled money.

“I got caught pretty fast the first time, so I don’t actually have a good idea of the venue layout,” she passionately began to explain. “It’d be best if we could scope the place out before—”

“Shiratama-san,” I interjected.

“Yes, President?”

Those eyes. So bright. How was I going to break this to her? Definitely not point-blank. I had to play this safe. Gradually shift her thinking with different ideas without outright rejecting her own.

Then, no sooner than I heard footsteps and voices in the hallway did the door burst open.

“Entering!” boistered Houkobaru Hibari, student council president. With a cursory bow in our stunned direction, she strode across the room. “So you are the one called Shiratama Riko-kun.”

“Um, yes,” she replied. “You’re the student council president?” The girl was frozen to her chair.

The president batted her hair away with a suave expression that seemed permanently glued to her face. “Excuse me. Introductions are in order. I am indeed she, Houkobaru. I have heard much about you, Riko-kun!”

“You have?! What exactly?”

Amidst our flummoxed flabbergastment came an out of breath Sakurai-kun. “Hiba-nee,” he panted, hand to his chest. “I said wait.” He staggered toward the towering president. “You’re frightening everyone. Let’s go, before we make even bigger nuisances of ourselves.”

“Now, now, Hiroto. You’re interrupting.” The president, in complete disregard of the wise man’s words, placed her hands on Shiratama-san’s shoulders.

“E-excuse me?” she sputtered.

“Yours is an imperfect, clandestine love! Your spirit, womanly in its unwillingness to yield! As a woman myself, I greatly admire you. Let me assist!” the president declared, as if to the heavens.

Sakurai-kun looked ready to beseech them for help.

Shiratama-san gradually dethawed enough to move her lips again. “And where did you hear about me exactly?”

“That boy right there. Hiroto told me everything. Rest assured, he and I are practically family.”

The man in question was now bowing low to me. I might have anticipated this.

“So I told President, who told him, who told you. Is that right?”

“Well reasoned.”

Shiratama-san’s head jerked to me like it was on a rusty swivel. I then learned just how emotive she could be. I learned it very well.

While I wiped some unrelated sweat from my brow, Yanami stopped eating plums long enough to speak up. Not really. But she did speak up. “What was that about you offering to help?”

“Right,” the president said. “If it’s a mark you hope to leave, you can never have too many claws.” She took the venue brochure and flipped through it. “Revenge, is it?”

“Revenge?” I echoed.

She nodded, still reading the brochure. “You’re going to infiltrate the venue again and steal the dress, no?”

“We, uh, gave up on that. The current plan is to secretly take photos with Tanaka-sensei instead.”

“That sounds exceptionally difficult.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“President! There you are!” With a short bow, Tiara-san invited herself in. “The teacher is waiting on you. Did you forget we had an election meeting today?”

“I did indeed,” the president replied. “Is my presence required?”

“Obviously! Shikiya-senpai is doing what she can to stall, but we need you now!”

“Very well. Shiratama-kun, might I borrow this?”

“Oh, um, sure,” she replied. “I have everything we need out of that.”

The president promptly vanished, escorted away by Tiara-san. But my relief lasted only seconds before the latter came stomping back. She glared at me.

“Wh-what?” I stammered.

“You aren’t involving our student council president in anything illicit, are you?”

“Nope. No.”

“Why did you say it twice?” Her eyes narrowed. I wasn’t lying. All of this was of the president’s own free will. “Do anything to besmirch her record, and I will go scorched earth. Not even you will escape, Nukumizu-san.”

With that, she left. In and out like a storm. Only Sakurai-kun remained, his face utterly distraught.

“I, uh, don’t even know where to begin apologizing,” he said.

Yanami shook her head, offering him a dried plum. “It isn’t your fault. It’s Nukumizu-kun’s, and his big fat mouth.”

“What?” I questioned. “It is?”

Yanami and Komari nodded in unison. Well. Whoops.

Shiratama-san was still emoting. In a very interesting way.

***

I read the president’s message on my way to the bike parking lot. My parents had found out about my new biking habit after last semester’s training arc and wouldn’t renew my train pass.

“School tomorrow,” I sighed. The president had summoned us, despite it being a holiday. Seeing as I was president of the lit club, maybe the student council would be open to subcontracting my services if we ultimately did go kaput. Options to consider.

When I arrived at the lot, I found on the back of my two-wheeled partner a creature most cute. It was Shiratama-san.

I stopped a ways away. “Thought you went home.”

“Forgot a little something.” Always with that perfect smile. Was this my reckoning for leaking her personal details to the student council? “What’re you waiting for? Aren’t you going home?”

“Uh, yeah. I am.” I looked down and sped past.

“This is your bike, isn’t it?”

“Oh. Guess it is. Must be early onset dementia.” I didn’t make it far. Even after I removed the lock, the creature remained where she was. “Shiratama-san?”

“President?” Smile. I smiled back. It wasn’t as perfect.

Any more of this and I could kiss my pride as a senpai goodbye. All I’d done was share my plight with trustworthy friends, with her permission. It wasn’t like I was shouting her business from the mountain tops. I had nothing to apologize for.

“I’m a little mad at you, you know,” she said.

“I’m sorry.”

Remember, kids. There’s nothing wrong with admitting fault.

“I opened up to you because I trusted you,” I heard her continue over my lowered head.

“But you, um, said I could tell people.”

“I meant the people who mattered. The people I involved. I can’t possibly imagine how you interpreted that to mean I was okay with you giving the student council the full scoop.”

Fair. Very fair. I had no response. Kept my head low.

Eventually, I heard her laugh. “Stop that. I’m not really that mad.”

“I mean, you’re right to be.”

“I’m just being a little dramatic because I thought it would be our secret.” She finally got off my bike, raising clenched fists excitedly up to her chest. “A lot of people are coming together to make this happen. I’m so ready.”

“W-well, let’s not be hasty!” I flinched back a few steps.

She closed the distance. I smelled something milky and sweet. “You’ll finish what you started, won’t you?” Long eyelashes fluttered over her round eyes. Words as quiet as whispers passed through small, pink lips. “It’s what a man would do.”

***

I wiped the sleep from my eyes. It was the next morning. A holiday. We had no business being here in the club room, and yet we were. “We” being me, Yanami, Shiratama-san, and a fourth looking awfully imposing with her cross-armed power stance.

“Is this everyone?” asked the student council president. “There was one more yesterday.”

“Komari was in the window earlier. She ran. Continue,” I told her.

She nodded, then smacked a piece of paper on the whiteboard she’d wheeled in. Written on it, in old-school brush ink, was “‘Shiratama Riko Strikes Back’ Operational Headquarters.”

Shiratama-san timidly raised her hand. “What, um, is all that about?”

“That, my friend, is my grandmother’s handiwork. She’s a certified calligrapher.” It did look pretty nice, but I doubted that was what Shiratama-san meant. The president snapped open a folding chair and dropped herself onto it in one motion. “Let’s begin the strategy meeting. What have you concocted thus far? How much have you prepared?”

“Um…”

“We’ve only just decided on an objective,” I answered on Shiratama’s behalf. “We don’t have any specifics yet.”

The president nodded and placed a sheet of paper on the table. “Then I suggest we call in an expert. I just happened to stumble upon this yesterday.”

The paper was a flyer. A shoddy one too. It read, “Tsuwabuki Investigative Advisor! For all your undercover needs!”

“What am I looking at?” Yanami grimaced, currently eating her second breakfast onigiri of the hour.

The flyer was littered with such buzz words as “confidential,” “guaranteed legal,” “free consultations,” and “patents pending.” I recognized the aesthetic. Scam-chic. The sort of thing you’d find on a telephone pole.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked.

“Positive. It’s an independent project of one of our students. Highly trustworthy.”

What student was getting up to junk like this? Scratch that. I could think of one candidate. But it couldn’t be.

The president glanced at the clock. “It’s nearly time for our appointment. I took the liberty of scheduling one on your behalf.”

“You what?”

A knock came with horrifying timing. The door crept open, and from its depths emerged someone I knew very well.

She gave a bow, forehead glistening in the morning light. “Thank you for your interest. Tsuwabuki Investigative Advisor Asagumo Chihaya, at your service. And this is…”

Another face I recognized emerged from behind her. “Nukumizu Kaju. Her assistant.”

The lit club girls looked right at me. But this wasn’t my fault. Was it?

…Was it?

***

The Tsuwabuki Investigative Advisor, henceforth referred to as Asagumo-san, wrote two big words on the whiteboard: “Intel” and “Prep.” She circled them.

“Two things you absolutely must prioritize are intelligence gathering and preparation. But more important than even those are…” she wrote “Goal” next, “to share a common purpose. Riko-san, when is the ceremony?”

“Oh, next Saturday.”

Nine days from now. The weekend immediately following Golden Week.

Asagumo-san nodded and proceeded to fill the board with every day until the ceremony. “You have a firm deadline, so your progress will be best tracked via task completion as opposed to milestones. By sharing what intel you currently have, the tasks that need doing will reveal themselves, and seeing as Golden Week begins the day after tomorrow, you’ll have five whole days to focus on them.”

Who would’ve thought that my Golden Week this year would culminate in a crime. Life worked in mysterious ways.

She finished outlining our calendar before facing us again. “You have a clear objective: Take wedding photos with Tanaka-sensei on the day of the ceremony. Plus one condition: Do so in complete secrecy.”

That condition was the hard part. We had a clear path to success but a treacherous one.

I glanced around at the silent audience before raising my hand. “Uh, what if circumstances demand that we change our objective in the moment?”

“Even so, it doesn’t change what needs to be done. That being gather information. Let’s go over what you know so far.” Asagumo-san signaled to Kaju, who switched on a projector. A bird’s-eye map of the city covered the wall. The wedding venue was situated near the center, close to Mukaiyama Oike and Kirinoki High School. “The venue is closed to the public, meaning our only means of learning its layout is via their own photos. Unless you have anything to add, Riko-san.”

She shook her head.

“Then that will take priority,” Asagumo-san continued. “On this matter, I cede the floor to my assistant.” She stepped to the side, making way for Kaju.

“I completed a preliminary examination of the facility early this morning,” she said.

“What? How?” I asked. “When did you do that?” She’d made me breakfast and laid my clothes out and everything.

She only winked at me. “I met the manager outside, whom I spoke with. They host garden weddings at a rate of no more than two events per day, and by reservation only. Exclusive use. No partial rentals.” She tapped her phone, and the projector image changed. “They’re surrounded by walls on all sides for privacy, making the front entrance the only means of ingress. It’s likely Riko-san is the only one who would be allowed in on the day of.”

That certainly complicated things. We wouldn’t be able to fake being there with some other group if reservations couldn’t be concurrent.

“This manager,” I cut in. “You got all this without tipping them off?”

“Not at all. He was quite the gentleman. I even got his business card.”

A gentleman, eh? A gentleman? Not that I cared.

“Let me see it. You didn’t give him your information, did you?”

I started to stand, but Yanami forced me back into my chair. “Down, boy. So, Sis, how’d it look? Unrelated to the plan, I mean.”

“Oh, it was lovely!” Kaju raved. “I would love to have a ceremony there! Absolutely!” She clasped her hands together and her eyes sparkled. For some reason, they were directed at me.

The president, surprisingly quiet this whole time, crossed her legs. “Hrm. So investigating this venue ought to be our first step. This is your territory, Kaju-kun. Any ideas?”

She nodded. “They’re holding an open house the day after tomorrow, on Saturday. One group canceled, so they had an opening. I’ve already filled it for you.”

Thorough. We already had our in.

“Wait,” I said, “can we even tour a wedding venue if we aren’t planning a wedding? We’re high schoolers.”

Asagumo-san smiled confidently. “But you won’t be forever. Now, which of you will be attending?” She looked us over.

“Yanami-san, why are you standing?” I asked.

“Uh, obviously because the most adult person here oughta go. Duh.”

“Sit down.”

I racked my brain. We needed someone mature. Someone who could carry themselves as an adult. But those were exceptionally rare qualities among high schoolers.

“What? What is it?” questioned the president as every pair of eyes went to her.

Asagumo-san approached her. “What do you say? Will you attend the open house?”

“I would very much love to, but I unfortunately have a memorial service to attend that day. It’s my great-grandfather’s fiftieth death anniversary, you see. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Her eyes shimmered. She would be weird enough to like those things.

“It is what it is, I guess,” I said. “Yanami-san, sit.”

More complications. If not the president, then who?

Noticing my agonizing, the president suggested, “How about Shikiya? She’s as tight-lipped as they come, after all.”

Shikiya-san. She certainly had the maturity, but she still worried me. For a whole host of other reasons. Kaju wrote her down on the whiteboard anyway.

Asagumo-san put her finger to her chin and thought. “Now, who best to send with her? Does anybody spring to mind as a suitable partner?”

Someone who wouldn’t draw too much attention. Someone who wouldn’t be amiss next to a girl like her. Who could possibly fit that bill?

“What about Ayano?” I proposed. “He’s got adult vibes. All he needs is a suit.”

“Vetoed,” Asagumo-san sternly refuted.

“But why? He—”

“Vetoed.” She grinned at me. But there was nothing happy about it. “He will have plans that day. We might just hold a memorial service for you.”

“All right, not Ayano! President, do you know anyone?”

She shrugged. “I’d rather not involve more people than we already have, frankly. Someone of the literature club or student council would be best.”

Tamaki-senpai? No. His girlfriend would raise hell. Didn’t want to be the instigator of a massacre.

“Why doesn’t Nukumizu-kun friggin’ do it?” Yanami grumbled.

“Huh?”

“You’ve got such a problem with me, you must be so much better.” She sullenly started on her third breakfast just fifteen minutes after her last one. A sandwich this time.

“You can’t be serious. I can’t pretend to be an adult.”

“She might be on to something,” the president said.

“How?”

She stood and put her hand on my shoulder. “You’re on the taller side. With the right outfit and makeup, you just might pull it off. Thoughts?”

Kaju was the first to shoot her hand up. “I want to see my Oniisama in a suit! In fact, I might as well go with him! I nominate myself as partner!”

Yeah, right. I stood and put her in a chair in the corner. “You have plans with friends. You’re going to an amusement park in Hamamatsu, aren’t you?”

“No,” Kaju mumbled, avoiding my gaze.

I took my phone out. “Our calendars are synced. Can’t lie to me.”

“But our wedding!” Kaju objected.

The one that would never happen?

“If there are no objections, then we’ll move forward with Nukumizu-san as our number two,” Asagumo-san said, writing and circling my name. She admired her work, then nodded. “Okay, so our next goal is to prepare for the open house this Saturday. I can provide the tools we’ll need to conduct a thorough examination, but I’ll have to ask the parties involved to arrange their own clothing.”

A suit, I assumed. I could borrow one of my dad’s, but that didn’t make me any less of a high schooler.

“Guys, I’m not sure—”

The president clapped her hands, silencing me. “It’s going to get busy now! Riko-kun, will you be able to acquire a wedding dress?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I actually just found a used one that would be perfect.” Her voice suddenly dropped. Then, just as suddenly, she sprang to her feet. “President!”

“Yes?”

“Why are you doing all this?” The president didn’t immediately answer. Shiratama-san stepped closer. “You have college exams, and you’re the president of the student council for crying out loud. You can’t have time for this, can you? You can’t risk this. You have too much to lose. Don’t you?”

Finally, she smiled. A defeated gesture. Then she stood before us. The ones with nothing to lose. “I told you. I admire you as a woman. We’ve all been burned by love in some way, have we not?”

“But if we mess up, you could get in serious trouble.”

“Then we won’t mess up.” The president took a lock of Shiratama-san’s hair in her hand and let it fall through her fingers. “I look forward to seeing your dress.”

***

After school the next day. I was on my way to the nurse’s office. Had to fill Konuki-sensei in on the latest developments. I wasn’t looking forward to it, but if I didn’t pop in on occasion, she’d take it upon herself to do so at the club room. At her own discretion.

On my way to the central building, I spotted Komari just as she exited the library. She’d ditched us yesterday, so I had a bone to pick with her. I was gonna do so when a boy came out and called after her. I sort of recognized him. He was a third-year with the library committee. In his outstretched hand was a book.

Komari froze in place like a deer in headlights. Because of course she did. She could hardly form proper sentences with other girls her age, much less an older boy. This was a job for yours truly.

But then I saw the impossible. Komari accepted the book and thanked the boy.

She could, apparently, speak now. It used to be that she’d be stuck there in cryogenic stasis until someone came and snapped her out of it. Weird. Wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Her head still hung low, she started walking toward me and nearly crashed before realizing who I was. “Wh-whuh? What are you d-doing here?”

“Visiting the nurse’s office.” I glanced over her head. The boy was already gone. “What did he want?”

“Th-the book I asked for came in.”

So it had. She cradled the tome in her arms. But I had to get a move on before Konuki-sensei wandered off to God knew where. I said a quick goodbye to her and hurried off. She followed.

“Same way?” I asked.

“Wh-what does it matter?” she grumbled.

A lot, generally, if your goal was arriving at a specific destination. Her business, though.

“Right. So yesterday—”

She glanced aside at me. “Wh-what are you gonna do?”

“You’d know if you were at the meeting.”

“I m-meant in general. Sh-should we be doing this at all?”

No. Definitely not. If we got busted, it wouldn’t be pretty. Anxiety peered through Komari’s bangs.

“It’ll be fine. We’ve got the student council president on our side.” I gave her a reassuring smile and a firm pat on the head. She squawked and scrambled away.

Crap. Force of habit. She was about the same height as Kaju.

“Sorry!” I blurted. “Wasn’t thinking. Hand moved on its own.”

She continued to shuffle away. Blushing.

“Komari?”

“S-screw you…” Then she was gone.

Welp, I’d just bought myself a one-way ticket to being treated like human garbage for the foreseeable future. I could still feel the sensation of her hair on my hand. Could use better product.

***

Freed from Konuki-sensei’s clutches, I stood in the courtyard and took a long, deep breath. I was tired. That was the long and short of my encounter with the nurse. Tiring. Amanatsu-sensei and Shiratama-san’s sister were incredible for being long-time friends with that woman.

A strong breeze carried the raspy calls of birds. Ugly things, but it was all the same to those who could understand them. The speakers were nowhere to be seen but nonetheless audible. I’d begun looking for them, until a thought occurred to me. Maybe I didn’t need to find them. Maybe listening to the voices was enough. It was certainly calming—the echoes, comforting.

I shut my eyes. Alone in the courtyard. Alone with the cries of the birds and the whispers of the rustling leaves. My heart, burdened by the darkness of the nurse’s office, knew peace again. I recognized one of the calls. A cinereous tit. It felt like I was standing in the middle of a field in autumn. Could swear I smelled hay on the gentle wind.

I opened my eyes and saw a man in a suit not two meters away from me. Tanaka-sensei, Shiratama-san’s sister’s fiancé. It didn’t look like he was here for me. Just the breeze. We hadn’t seen each other since the incident at the mall.

Before I could decide whether to leave or not, he noticed me. “Nukumizu-kun. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Just doing some thinking. What about you?”

“Heard the birds and felt like listening. Bush warblers in the hedges, maybe.”

Interesting. So that was how they sounded.

He seemed to note my curiosity. “Most have migrated to the mountains around this time of year. The early birds at least.”

“I relate to the procrastinators.”

“Endearing how well they hide themselves, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It is.”

We stood and listened a while longer. Eventually, though, Tanaka-sensei spoke again. “Hey, about last weekend…”

“Yeah?” I waited on tenterhooks for him to continue.

“Sorry,” he finally said. “For intruding.”

I froze up. I’d braced myself for a bombshell. “Uh, it’s okay. How was her sister?”

“Minori-san? It took her a moment to collect herself. Me too, to be honest.” He tried to laugh but went into a coughing fit.

“Need water?” I asked.

“No, I’m okay. I’m okay now.”

We shared a brief moment of awkwardness.

“So, the wedding is next week. You must be busy.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. I’ve been in a constant state of restlessness.” He searched me for a reaction but didn’t find what he was looking for. “How much has Riko-chan told you?”

“About her suspension or her sister? A little bit of both.”

Tanaka-sensei nodded and stepped closer. “She hates my guts, Nukumizu-kun. I don’t think she likes me marrying her sister.”

He went quiet, but not because he was looking for a reply. Or anything in particular.

“It must be complicated, seeing someone you’d always considered family suddenly marry your actual family.”

“I’m, uh, sure it is. Puberty.” I tried to leave it at that. But something screamed at me to continue. “I think maybe she just wants some space.” And the more I spoke, the more the something took shape. “We’re high school students. When family changes, our world changes. Because that’s our whole life.” I didn’t understand Shiratama-san in the slightest. I couldn’t comprehend her or the things she was doing. “For Riko-san, her sister is the one who’s always been there for her. And you’re basically her big brother. Someone she’s known almost as long. But both of those things are changing now, and at the same time. She has every right to be upset.”

But one thing about her I absolutely could comprehend—she had a something too.

I put on my best, most mature smile, inspired by Shiratama-san herself, and presented it to Tanaka-sensei. “From one big brother to another, you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

He nodded. “You’re right. I need to be a better example.” He nodded again, then gave me an impressed look. “Thanks. You know, you’re mature for your age.”

“Oh, uh, I’m just ranting. Sorry. Didn’t mean to preach.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m glad Riko-chan has someone like you as her boyfriend,” he murmured to himself. Then he stared out across the courtyard.

I listened to the birds, thinking about all the things Shiratama-san hid beneath her perfect smile. She never stood a chance. A girl fifteen years his junior, a girl he’d watched go from diapers to high school, the little sister of the girl he loved—Shiratama-san never stood a chance. She hadn’t lost, because she never could have won in the first place. Tanaka-sensei was too decent, too loyal, too sincere to see her as anything but his own family.

And for some inexplicable reason, that pissed me off. There was no blame to place at this man’s feet. He was a good person, naivete his worst sin. He’d done little more than be too dense to notice what was right in front of him.

That was enough for me. I was with Shiratama-san now. All the way. Chalk it up to puberty.

***

Golden Week was here. The first of our long, five-day vacation was blessed with perfect weather. I stood in front of the venue, fiddling with my necktie because I could think of no other way to distract myself from the nerves. I’d borrowed a suit out of my dad’s wardrobe just for this: the open house.

No way this actually worked. A second-year high schooler pretending to be an adult with marriage on the mind? Had there ever been a worse miscast in the history of acting? I’d even used some stuff on my hair to make it look nice, but now I could feel the breeze in places I never could before, and it was freaking me out.

A willowy, pale white hand took my tie from me. “I’ll fix it.”

It belonged to my fiancée—pretend fiancée—Shikiya-san. She wore a black dress, her hair done up and adorned with a flower ornament.

“Sorry,” I said. “Just nervous.”

I eyed the building behind her. A fancy, tiled edifice with walls extending from it and around the actual venue itself. The entryway was a trendy, modern design of primarily white and brown colors. I couldn’t see inside very well. Off toward the parking lot, I spied a rustling bush and two figures lurking around it. Asagumo-san sported a headset and wielded a laptop, while Yanami held high a weird, umbrella-esque antenna. Several other places shared the lot, so they wouldn’t necessarily attract the venue’s attention, but that didn’t ease my concerns very much.

“They gonna be okay, you think?” I asked.

“It’s fine,” she rasped. “Be confident.”

“Uh, hey!”

She took my arm and guided me through the front door. First impression: tall ceilings. It was a lot more spacious than it looked from the outside. Further ahead was a counter, the employee on the other side of it flashing us a kind smile.

I stood up straight and relaxed my throat. “We, uh, have an appointment under Shinbashi.”

“Give me just one moment.” The uniformed employee looked down at a tablet. “Shinbashi Kazuhiko-san and Yoshida Yumeko-san, yes? It’ll be just up those stairs.”

Today, I was indeed Shinbashi Kazuhiko, a recently graduated eighteen-year-old with marriage on the mind. Swaying to my side was my fiancée, Yoshida Yumeko, twenty-year-old flower shop employee.

Yumeko lazily looked around then rested her head on my shoulder. She smelled so good, I wished time would stop.

“Where do…the gifts go?” she sighed.

“There’s no wedding. This is only a tour.” Had she been listening when we explained it to her? I left the counter and started toward the stairs before we could blow our cover. “Senpai, what exactly did the president tell you?”

Her finger went over my lips as we climbed. “My name isn’t ‘Senpai.’”

Right. We’re engaged. “Y-Yumeko. What did Houkobaru-san tell you?”

“Something…about a wedding. Yours, I assumed.”

She’d assumed wrong.

While I pondered this and the many other shortcomings of human language, I noticed her staring at me. “Se… Yumeko?”

“I could get used to this.” She played with my hair.

“Q-quit it.”

“Someone’s shy.”

Who was this? Was Shikiya-san always this much of a bully?

“Excuse me,” grumbled a voice directly in my ear. “We can hear you.”

Yanami came in through the wireless earbud in my right ear. Her team out in the parking lot was supposed to send us instructions remotely, but I foresaw this arrangement being more of a burden than any help whatsoever. Didn’t take much foresight when it was happening in real time.

“What exactly do you think you’re hear—Y-Yumeko! I said stop!”

“What’s happening in there?! Answer me! Answer me right—”

I switched it off just as we entered the room where the venue’s presentation would be given. In case it wasn’t obvious, we’d left Shiratama-san behind. Felt like the courteous thing to do given her history with the place.

***

Rewinding a bit to two hours ago, in the lit club room…

Yanami and Asagumo-san looked me up and down, scrutinizing my suited self with very peculiar looks on their faces. They looked at each other and nodded. Words would have been nice.

Shiratama-san finished her own examination and put her hands together. “You clean up well, President. The suit really does make the man.”

I appreciated the kind words, but hers were the eyes of a liar. I was starting to figure her language out. Next to me stood my partner, Shikiya-san, in her dress. I could smell her perfume from here.

Asagumo-san, a cooling patch plastered to her forehead, placed something on the table. A single earbud. “Put this in, Nukumizu-san. We’ll use it to relay instructions.”

“So your voice’ll come through this thing?”

“That’s right. It has a built-in microphone as well, so we’ll be able to hear you too.” She placed something else on the table, this time in front of Shikiya-san. A flowery hair ornament.

Shikiya-san cautiously picked it up. “What…is this?”

“There’s a 360-degree camera hidden in it. Put it on, please.”

So I was the ears, and she was the eyes.

Shiratama-san fidgeted a bit before raising her hand. “Um, and what about me?”

“It would be best if you kept from appearing at the venue until the day of the wedding,” Asagumo-san said. “I’m sorry, but you’ll be on standby today.”

The general presentation would begin at ten this morning. After that would be time for individual questions and therein lay the source of our troubles. I could not stress enough that we were only high school students pretending to be adults. Which meant we had to be as prepared as possible to sell the illusion.

Asagumo-san began to delineate everything on the whiteboard. Shikiya-san and I were young but looking to host a shotgun wedding because of nondescript societal obligations. She’d thought of everything. Addresses, phone numbers, employment, family situations, budget, and even preliminary ceremony plans.

When she’d finished writing it all out, she faced us again and cleared her throat. “Our time to dedicate to this will be severely limited when school starts again. We should endeavor to make the most of the long break.”

“‘We’? I thought you said you had plans with Ayano,” I pointed out.

“He has elected to attend a study camp.” The light left her forehead. “A ‘surprise,’ he called it. He intends to surpass me on the next test. For what good that does me. How thoughtful.”

Ayano hadn’t changed much, it would seem.

I glanced to my side. Shikiya-san was staring at her ornament. “Um, Senpai? How much of the situation have you heard?”

“Most of it. From Houkobaru,” she breathed. “Probably.”

This worried me, but I took her word for it. I’d agonized over worse things. It took more than that to faze this lit club president.

***

Things were going well for the most part. We’d just managed to muddle through our interview, had gotten their recommendations, and were walking through a hall with the other visitors now.

“Would be nice to do fireworks both before and after, but it might not be in the budget. Anything catch your eye, Yumeko?”

“Barrel breaking…would be nice.”

“That’s a classic. Let’s ask about it.”

We were deep in character and extremely interested in everything the staff had to suggest, even going as far to continue our deliberations in private. Only thing was, we were wasting everybody’s time. There was one other nuisance.

“Um, hello, Earth to Nukumizu-kun, can you stay on topic? Focus on the mission? Forget how to sing, Mr. Canary?”

A certain mosquito in my ear was eager to rain on our parades.

I furtively covered my mouth before replying. “The tour’s starting soon. Eyes on the camera so you can make yourself useful, please.”

“Pardon my partner. Asagumo-san here. The image is a little shaky. Can you stabilize it?”

Pros always expected the world of amateurs.

“Trouble?” asked Shikiya-san. Her head fell quizzically to one side. I remembered that the camera was the ornament in her hair.

“Deal with it,” I replied to our invisible puppeteers. “It’s a feature.”

Then I disconnected.

We exited the building and walked out into the actual “garden” part of “garden wedding.” Outdoor couches and chairs littered the lawn. Walls taller than myself surrounded us on all sides, offering complete privacy. At the end of the expanse was the crowning jewel of it all—the chapel. The same modern white and brown. A small, picturesque waterway separated it from the rest of the venue.

That was the place. Where we were supposed to whisk Tanaka-sensei off to for a secret photo shoot with Shiratama-san.

Our guide and interviewer noticed me staring. “Would you like a closer look?”

“Is that okay?” I asked.

“Of course. Follow me.”

We crossed the bridge over the waterway. Shikiya-san followed a step behind me, her attention on the rest of the lawn behind us. “Are we…practicing?”

I could think of nothing more appealing, but now wasn’t the time.

“Just seeing the chapel,” I said. “Can you keep the cam…stand up straight?”

“Gimme.” Her hands snaked around my arm, clinging to it. Sensory overload. Her perfume. So soft. Arm in heaven.

Suddenly, my ear was blasted by harsh, guttural grunts. Yanami oh-so subtly clearing her throat.

We stepped inside moments after our guide. It was a straight path down the aisle to the altar, with rows of pews on either side. A large window on the far wall opened up to a small, pristine waterfall. Gentle sunlight bled through the windows to our left and right, bouncing in just the right way to make the room appear to glow on its own. A fan on the ceiling turned slowly, hypnotically, solemnly.

Shikiya-san clung to my arm as we absorbed the ambient calm. But wasn’t her dad supposed to be the one walking her down the aisle? And the groom would be waiting at the end to take the young florist, Yoshida Yumeko, as his bride. Punk.

By the time we reached the end, my righteous fury had faded enough to let me realize something: There was nowhere to hide in here. The pews weren’t solid. They had spaces in the backrest, so those were a no-go, and the walls were smooth. No corners or conveniently uneven architecture. Even if we managed to get Tanaka-sensei here, how was Shiratama-san supposed to get the drop on him?

“Nukumizu-kun,” Asagumo-san said, sensing what I had. “Can you find anything that could be used as cover? Furniture? Any nooks or crannies?”

“I mean…”

I didn’t even see any station for sound equipment or anything. Probably hidden away somewhere so it wouldn’t detract from the atmosphere. The place was barren. Correction: almost barren.

The altar. A podium stood there, much like in a classroom. I guided the camera—autonomous Shikiya-san model—closer to it. It was pretty basic. The other side was open. Not a huge space inside, but enough to potentially hide someone.

I felt it a bit to give my hand for scale, then nonchalantly moved on. Next, I gave the place a quick walk, measuring its size in paces.

“All right,” I said. “Ready to get going, Yumeko?”

She cocked her head and gave me a confused look. “We aren’t…practicing?”

“Uh, in public?” I shot a glance at the guide standing by the door, who promptly smiled and left. How considerate.

Shikiya-san took my hands, stood us on the altar, and looked into my eyes. “What next?”

“Well, um, a priest would say a bunch of words, uh, w-we’d exchange rings, say our vows, or… Yeah.”

“Yeah? After that?”

After that? After the rings and the vows?

I swallowed. “Then we…kiss, I guess.”

“Excuse me!” Yanami shrieked in my ear. “We’re right here!”

I’d forgotten about her. Entirely. Her very existence as an individual.

“Hey, we’re just trying to stay in character. Get the vibe down. It’s important stuff.”

“Making out isn’t in the script!”

Sure wasn’t. Frankly, though, I was almost glad for the bickering. Pretend or not, being with Shikiya-san like this was bad for my heart. I started to leave.

But her pallid hand was faster. It snatched the earbud right out of my ear. “So we kiss…and then I’m yours?”

“Um!”

She stuffed the earbud into her chest and leaned in close. Closer. Closer. My reflection in her pale eyes grew.

“W-well, technically we have to actually get married first!” I sputtered, voice cracking. She stopped. “The, um, paperwork’s what makes it official. Not the kiss.”

“Paperwork…” She thought about that. Then nodded. “Foiled by bureaucracy.”

Whatever that meant, it was sufficient to get her to free me and start staggering toward the door. I hurried after her. When I caught up, she forced the earbud back into my hand. The one that had just been in her chest. But, well, Yanami would get naggy if I didn’t check in again.

With reverence to the new and exciting implications now in my ear, I pushed open the heavy chapel door. The guide greeted us with a smile.

“Sorry about that,” I said.

“Let me show you to our reception area next. We’ll have samples of the course meals you can expect from us there.”

“Free samples?!” howled Yanami. “I didn’t know there’d be food!”

Because no one had told her. Also, ow, my eardrum.

Practicing saintlike patience, I followed our guide to the reception venue. Thank god Yanami wasn’t around or we’d be cooked. But that was just one of many reasons her being here would lead to disaster.

“Excuse me, what are you two doing there?” a new voice in my ear interrogated. Sounded like an older guy. Security, probably, come to crack down on the antenna-wielding weirdo causing a scene in the parking lot. There was no room for doubt in my mind.

I sighed, doing my best to ignore the frantic excuses the B-team started to hurl.

“Something wrong…Kazuhiko?” Shikiya-san asked.

“Nothing, Yumeko. Nothing at all.” I sighed again and stuffed the earbud into my pocket.

***

That night, I was sitting at my desk.

“I’m really, really sorry. Hiba-nee’s not going too far off the rails, is she?”

I had Sakurai-kun on the phone. He’d been calling just about every night lately, guilty over the president inserting herself into our business.

I shook my head, entirely cognizant of the fact he couldn’t see it. “It’s been smooth sailing so far. She’s been so helpful I might have to thank you.”

“Still, she’s going off even more half-cocked than usual. I keep worrying she’ll take it too far.”

Compared to the disaster human that was Tiara-san, her boss was downright pleasant. I told him so in slightly more polite terms. That seemed to quell his anxieties for now, so he said goodbye and hung up shortly after. If only mine were so easily soothed.

I glanced at the calendar on my wall. Golden Week was here, and the weekend following it was the wedding. Next Saturday, our plan would be put into motion.

“Oniisama, I’m done with the bath.” Kaju scampered in, all cozied up in her blue pajamas. She unwrapped the towel on her head, and wet hair fell over her shoulders.

“You’d better dry that before you give yourself a cold,” I said.

“Help me, please?” She plopped herself on my bed like she already knew the answer. I was spoiling this girl.

I started plugging in the dryer. Something had been on my mind. “When did you and Asagumo-san get so buddy-buddy?”

“Just recently. She’s been very kind to me.”

Troubling. Very troubling. Asagumo-san was a good egg, but as far as role models for your little sister went, she was pretty low on my ranking. At the very bottom was Tsukinoki-senpai, for reference.

Just as I was about to switch the dryer on, Kaju turned around to me. “I wish I could have seen you in that suit. Next open house, you and I should—”

“Drying.” The blow dryer roared to life, effectively shutting her up.

I ran my fingers through her hair as the warm wind caressed it. Too much heat was bad. I had to make sure it didn’t get too hot. Quick yet gentle. Seek and destroy moisture with efficiency.

About ten minutes later, I switched it off and admired my work. Lustrous. Soft to the touch. Not too bad, if I said so myself. I began my final check.

“Wait,” I said, “aren’t those pajamas mine?”

“Nope. I got a matching pair.”

Interesting. But why the exact same color? Curious.

Kaju put a brush in my hand next. It was a present I’d given her, made with real boar bristles. A real work of art and a vital step to the Kaju method.

Slowly, I ran it through her hair.

“How’s school as a third-year?” I asked.

“Well, we have entrance exams to look forward to now, so the teachers have all been trying to get us to think about our futures and stuff. None of it feels very real yet, though.” She waited a second before continuing. “I’m going to apply to Tsuwabuki.”

I’d always known she had a strong interest, but this was the first time she’d said it in no uncertain terms. I kept brushing. “Already decided?”

“Yep. I’ve even talked to my teacher, and we’re putting together a plan. Next spring, I’ll get to go to school with you.” Kaju spoke with an unshakable confidence. Her expression softened. “This time last year, you were all alone and friendless. My plan was to come along so I could be there for you.”

This time last year, I could go entire days not speaking a word to anyone. Amanatsu-sensei had trouble even remembering who I was. Personally, it hadn’t bothered me much, but it probably weighed on Kaju quite a bit.

Her hand touched mine. I’d stopped brushing. “I have different ideas now, though. I want to go because there are senpai that I respect. I want this for myself.”

“That’s great,” I said. “I’m glad. Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“I will!”

She started to swing her legs and hum, and I suddenly felt lighter. Unburdened.

I continued to brush. Slowly. Gently.

***

Day two of Golden Week. The whole crime crew had gathered: me, the student council president, Yanami, and Shiratama-san. Before us stood our senpai in skulduggery, Asagumo-san.

“Complications notwithstanding, the open house was a great success!” she declared.

Yanami gave me a look. “‘Complications.’ That’s one word for it. But hey, one of us got to sample French cuisine. Must’ve been nice.”

Shikiya-san and I had just kind of ditched them yesterday after we lost contact. Good food, pretty girl, productive day all around. Man, she smelled nice.

“I wasn’t exactly on vacation myself,” I retorted. “Go on, Asagumo-san.”

“Right. Let’s organize what we’ve learned.” She started to sketch a rough floor plan of the venue. “Right next to the front desk is a changing room for family. Just past that is a waiting room for guests. The bar means this space will be especially populated.” She took a red marker next and drew arrows on the (very rough) floor plan. “Beyond the waiting room is the garden, which is also where the chapel is, but it’ll be hard to get to it from across the lawn without anybody noticing. The reception will be held in clear eyeshot.” A line went from the chapel to the stairs. “Thankfully,” Asagumo-san went on, “it’s very close to the groom’s suite on the second floor. It should be easy getting Tanaka-sensei there if all goes smoothly.”

The president removed her hand from her chin and said, “He’ll have to pass through the guest room. If he meets anybody along the way, it could complicate things.”

“Indeed. Which brings me to the schedule.” Asagumo-san stuck a sheet of paper up on the whiteboard. “The bride is to arrive at half past seven that morning. The groom, at nine. After changing, there will be meetings regarding photography and the ceremony itself at ten.” Another paper went up. “Guests are scheduled to arrive via bus thirty minutes later. Admission begins at eleven. The ceremony officially commences at noon, at which point our chances of success drop significantly.” She crossed out the second sheet of paper with a big, red X.

“But if Tanaka-sensei’s getting in at nine and meeting with the real photographer only an hour later, what’s that leave us with?” Yanami asked. “That’s barely any time at all.”

Asagumo-san nodded. “Indeed. Our best chance is the brief window between when he finishes changing and the meeting at ten o’clock.”

The president sneered. “So it’s a race. I’ll be right at home.”

Our mastermind gauged our reactions, then started marking up the schedule. “Here’s what I’ve cooked up. At 9:30, our fake photographer will lure Tanaka-sensei out for ‘equipment testing.’” She next put up a photo of the chapel’s interior. “Riko-san will be lying in wait, ready to insert herself as soon as the test photo shoot begins.” Then she snapped the cap back on the marker.

Given what we had to work with, this sounded like the best plan we could possibly come up with. Silence reigned for a while until Yanami broke it, conjuring a loaf of bread from her bag.

“Guess that’s what we’re gonna have to do. Gonna need to hammer out specifics, though,” she said, not waiting to finish before inhaling a chunk of her baguette. Naturally, I didn’t give this a second thought, but the same couldn’t be said for the others. “What? Why’s everybody staring at me?”

“Probably wondering why you’re eating a baguette,” I interpreted on their behalf as the resident Keeper of the Yanami.

“’Cuz it’s not fair you got to pig out on French food and I’m craving it. And?”

And this was all that amounted to French food for her. Sure. Fair enough. Technically true.

“So you’re just eating that whole thing straight.”

“I put plum jam and anko and other stuff inside, thank you very much. Also brought some kinako flour to sprinkle on top. Eugh, bad bite. Fish guts.”

The purported “other stuff.” Why in God’s name she had willingly stuffed her own bread with shiokara, why she continued to eat it regardless, and what shiokara even had to do with French cuisine were among the many questions occupying my mind. And yet I dared not hope for an answer. Not where Yanami was involved.

Swiftly quarantining the regions of my brain she had stun locked, I returned my attention to the whiteboard. “Back on topic, what’s the plan with the fake photographer? Tanaka-sensei’d recognize any one of us, and the venue’d figure it out pretty fast too. They’ve got their own camera guy on staff.”

Asagumo-san produced a slip of paper, prepared to answer that exact question. “I’ve got the real one’s business card right here. They won’t be using the venue photographer, but an outside provider by the name of Studio Damonde.” She cued in Shiratama-san with a glance.

“My sister’s friend works there, so the venue’s letting them go with a third party,” she explained. “On a related note, this finally came in.” She placed another business card on the table. It was the exact same as the one in Asagumo-san’s hand, except for the photographer’s name.

Criminals. All of us.

Asagumo-san verified its accuracy, then handed it to the president. “Houkobaru-senpai, you’ll need this on the day of.”

“Making me the photographer, I presume,” she said.

“That’s right. And Nukumizu-san will be your assistant.”

“Me?!” I blurted.

“Riko-san will need backup just in case,” Asagumo-san explained calmly.

“I literally just went on a tour of the place! They’ll recognize me!”

She giggled. “Do you remember being asked for directions at the gate when you arrived?”

“What?” I did. That had happened. In front of the school, some guy in a baseball cap wearing a mask had asked me where a board game café was. “Yeah? What about it?”

“That was Kaju-san.”

What? No. What?!

“I don’t believe you! He sounded like a boy and everything!”

“When she got your attention, that was a voice playback. Kaju’s, heavily edited to sound like a pre-pubescent boy.”

“Okay, but he kept talking after that, and that wasn’t a playback.”

“True, but the impression had been made. You heard a boy, made your internal assumptions, and the interaction was over before you could second-guess them.”

No way. I couldn’t mistake Kaju’s voice for anything. I was indignant. “But the eyes. The eyes were different. Kaju’s are bigger.”

“False eyelashes. Makeup. The hat hid her hair. What we couldn’t adequately change, we concealed.”

My jaw was on the floor. My spirit crushed. I’d been had.

“Damn, imagine that. Nukumizu-kun, the world’s clingiest brother, not even recognizing his own sister.” Yanami was eating this up.

“I knew something was up,” I insisted. “I just couldn’t say anything. What was I gonna do, accuse some stranger that he’s actually Kaju?”

“True. That’d get you a padded cell real fast.”

In conclusion: This wasn’t my fault, and also, I wasn’t clingy.

Asagumo-san cleared her throat, reassuming control. “Tanaka-sensei does know our faces. This is true. But in the moment, on the big day, when he sees you and begins to doubt, one assumption will dominate his mind.” She looked at each of us. “‘Why would my students be here crashing my wedding?’” She held a fake business card aloft. “Normalcy bias. It’s a powerful thing, and it affects all of us. The formality of a card and the comfort of a name, in this case one Toratani Tsuguo, will supersede every warning siren going off in his head. All we need to do is be in and out before he can hear them.”

I shut up and listened. The theory had already been proven on me. Much to my distress.

Nobody objected. Asagumo-san’s forehead gleamed in approval. “Everyone understand? Good! I hope you’re ready to play dress-up!”

I did not understand as well as I’d thought.

On behalf of everyone, I raised my hand. “You mean like the suit I wore to the open house?”

“No. Absolutely not. That was an absolute misstep.” Grief befell her. Coincidentally, it befell me too. “Your role as patrons acted as a buffer against any misgivings your hosts likely had. But Tanaka-sensei will be the patron in our scenario, so anything out of the ordinary will stick out like a sore thumb.”

The president raised an eyebrow as she stowed her business card into her breast pocket. “We’re operating on a tight timeline and can afford no mistakes. This is what you mean to say?”

“Precisely. Everything must be foolproof. Leave your disguises to me. Meanwhile, let’s reiterate everybody’s roles.”

She jotted them down on the whiteboard.

COORDINATORS: Asagumo Chihaya, Yanami Anna

PHOTOGRAPHER: Houkobaru Hibari

ASSISTANT: Nukumizu Kazuhiko

So while the president and I infiltrated, the other two would hang back and offer support behind the scenes. Same lineup as the open house.

A very peculiar line drew my eye next.

SHIRATAMA RIKO: Shiratama Riko

“What… So Shiratama-san’s going as herself,” I surmised.

Asagumo-san turned around and grinned. “Right. We’ll need someone on the inside, and there’s only one person who can reasonably be there on the day of the ceremony.”

All eyes went to her. Shiratama-san’s turned to saucers. “Me?”

“Your job will be ensuring the others don’t run into any hiccups and running interference when they do.”

That made sense. We’d need all the help we could get if we wanted Shiratama-san to make it to the chapel in that wedding dress. Shiratama-san would be the perfect…

“Wait,” I said, “there can’t be two Shiratama-sans.”

“Not with that attitude.” Asagumo-san added an extra name.

SHIRATAMA RIKO: Shiratama Riko, Nukumizu Kaju

Now I was extra confused. Asagumo-san seemed to expect this and directed her attention to the club room door. She clapped. “Join us, Riko-san.”

It opened, and a girl entered. A small Tsuwabuki girl who was totally Kaju. She approached me and twirled. “How do I look, Oniisama?”

“The uniform suits you,” I said. “But, uh, how are you supposed to be Shiratama-san?”

Asagumo-san came up next to her and dropped her hand on the tiny girl’s head. “She may be a tad short for the role, but what’s lacking can always be supplemented. The right shoes and wig will do most of the work. Their builds are similar, so the rest ought to be simple.”

“I’ll do my best!” Kaju pumped her fists enthusiastically. Wasn’t my sister just the cutest?

But adorable or not, there was something I couldn’t abide.

“Time out.” I stood from my chair. “Kaju can’t be part of this.” Asagumo-san was taken aback. I continued, “This is literature club business. Yeah, Asagumo-san and the president are involved, and that warrants its own discussion, but Kaju’s not even a Tsuwabuki student. She doesn’t belong here.” She looked at me like she wanted to argue. I remained firm. “It’s literature club business. You’ve got entrance exams. You shouldn’t be doing this.”

“But—”

“Your brother is right,” the president interjected. “Leave this matter in our trustworthy hands.”

I circled around to stand in front of Kaju and patted her on the head. “You’ll be one of us next year. Isn’t that what you told me?”

She said nothing for several seconds, then with a feeble voice muttered, “I want a date.”

“A date?”

“When this is over, you have to go on a date with me.”

“You bet. Anything you want.”

She peered up at me, pouting her cheeks. “I mean it. For a whole day. From good morning to good night.”

“Hey, message received. You’re the boss.”

Something still didn’t quite seem to sit right with her, but she ultimately acquiesced. With a sullen bow, she sulked back out of the room. I was gonna have some homework when I got back. I sighed.

Asagumo-san frowned at me. “I’m sorry, Nukumizu-san. That was inconsiderate of me. I never should have involved a junior high student in this business in the first place.”

“Oh, uh, I mean, I should’ve said something sooner. You did nothing—” Wrong? I couldn’t bring myself to say it. To lie to myself like that.

The president put a hand on Asagumo-san’s shoulder with a self-derisive smile. “I’m partly to blame for not saying anything myself. You’ve certainly earned your title, Oniisama.”

“Not mine,” I said. “Kaju’s. That’s entirely Kaju’s thing.”

Yanami wiped the last few baguette crumbs off her hands. “Okay, but who’s gonna be Shiratama-chan now?”

We had a vacancy. Without Kaju, someone else would have to pick up the Phonytama-san mantle.

Asagumo-san eyed Yanami closely. “You two are awfully close in height. Similar proportions. You might be the dead ringer we need, Yanami-san.”

She stopped digging in her bag. “Say what?”

Yanami? Stand in for Shiratama-san?

“But what about her wei…build. What about her build?” I asked. “Y’know, ’cuz, uh…”

“’Cuz what, Nukumizu-kun? Say it.”

I did not.

Asagumo-san pulled out her phone, smiling in spite of the imminent danger to my health and safety. “Yanami-san, Riko-san, stand right there, please.”

“Who, me?”

“Yes, you and Riko-san. Right there, please.” Sometimes her one-track mind could be such a blessing. She snapped a picture, took out her laptop, and then turned it to us. “Your attention, everyone.”

On the screen was the picture she had just taken of them standing side by side. They definitely matched in terms of height and proportions, but something about their silhouettes just…didn’t gel. They were different genres. If they were figures in a store, they’d have been on different shelves.

Asagumo-san hit a key, and Yanami became slimmer while Shiratama-san got a little thicker. “Just a bit of computer magic to make their figures match a bit more. All she needs now is a wig and the right outfit.”

“We can edit photos all day, though. The real world’s not that pretty,” I said. “Figuratively, Yanami-san. Figuratively.”

I shouldn’t have had to cover my tracks like this. Yet…

Asagumo-san grinned, again in spite of suffering. “These edits are simulating a two-kilogram gain for Riko-san and a two-kilogram loss for Yanami-san. All they have to do is meet that estimate in time for the ceremony.”

An ominous silence permeated the room.

Yanami stopped sucking down jelly from a pack. “So what you’re saying is I shouldn’t have that second loaf.”

We all looked at each other at once and were united. The situation was dire.

***

Day three. Five days to the wedding. Most of the crime crew was in the club room, except for Yanami.

Asagumo-san clicked the stopwatch and stared at the numbers on the display. “One minute, fifteen seconds. Can you stall longer?”

“Any longer and we risk suspicion. It would be more natural to get to the point than to artificially lengthen the conversation.” The president set the time sheet on the table.

We were rehearsing for the day of. Whether it was schmoozing our way past the front desk or luring out Tanaka-sensei, we couldn’t avoid contact with other people. We had to be ready.

Asagumo-san jotted down the president’s comments, then paused. “One thing still worries me. The bride and groom’s suites are right next to each other. If Riko-san’s sister appears, it would put the entire plan in jeopardy.”

“She’ll be in the middle of having her makeup done around then. I’m almost positive we’ll be safe.” Shiratama-san took a forlorn bite of roll cake. “They’re hiding her dress until she comes down the aisle anyway.”

Yanami was on a diet. Shiratama-san was on whatever the opposite of a diet was and well on her way to those two kilos the plan demanded.

“You can slow down,” I told her. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Everyone’s doing so much. I don’t want to be the weakest link.” Another teary-eyed bite. The cake remained unfazed and undented. I found myself with a newfound appreciation of Yanami’s appetite.

Speak of the devil, the door opened just then. “Tak… Takin’ a breather,” Yanami panted before collapsing into a chair. The track suit was a new look for her. She’d started running due to the aforementioned diet. She tried to open a bottle, but it vanished from her hands. “Asagumo-chan?”

“Too much sugar. I’ve prepared a more calorie conscious drink for you. Here.” Asagumo-san handed her a different bottle.

“What’s in it?”

“It will make you thinner.”

“I’m in!” She turned the thing up and chugged. I’d have been a little more interested in the nutrition facts, but that was just me.

Asagumo-san handed me the stopwatch. “From the top. We need to fill in the gaps on the timetable as much as possible. If you would time, please.”

“Right,” I replied.

President Houkobaru was the star role in today’s script, but seeing as I would be Shiratama-san’s liaison leading up to her abscondment into the chapel, I had to be cognizant of every stage of the scheme. We went through it all, from infiltration to exfiltration, and when we were done, I noticed Yanami. Something was up with her. Her eyes were dead, like she was gone from this world.

“You good?” I asked her. “Not dehydrated, are you?”

“What does it mean to ‘eat’?”

Okay. Weird. And not the usual weird that came out of her lips.

“Not good. Got it. Want me to get you an onigiri?”

She shook her head. “What is ‘hunger’? Why must we take lives to prolong our own?” Another gulp of Asagumo-san’s concoction. Perhaps we weren’t ready for whatever that stuff was. As a species. But then again, you couldn’t make an omelet without cracking a few eggs. Yanami slowly rose to her feet. “Think I’ll go for a few more laps.”

“I think you should rest a little longer.”

“Nah, I’m in the zone. Dunno what it is. I feel like I could run all the way to America.”

I somehow doubted that, but far be it from me to be the one to tell someone their dreams were unachievable. So I just smiled as she left.

“Asagumo-san, that stuff you gave her is safe, right? Legal?” I asked.

“Perfectly legal,” she replied. “I made sure.”

Well, anything legal couldn’t possibly be bad for you.

I lifted my mug, stopped halfway to my lips, and then set it back down. Asagumo-san’s contact was getting removed from Kaju’s phone as soon as I got home.

***

After the meeting, I was meandering around Toyohashi Station’s east exit, doing the rounds at a few bookstores and anime-related shops on the way home. A poster on the wall for some event caught my eye. I immediately rerouted toward South Side Station Square. An impulse I could only attribute to the devil on my shoulder.

Had I carried on toward my intended destination, I might not have stumbled across Yanami with her face glued to the glass of an udon joint’s window. She chewed solemnly on her banana, staring longingly at the customers inside. A crime in the making. Sometimes I hated how good of a citizen I was.

“What are you doing, Yanami-san?”

“Oh. Hey, Nukumizu-kun.” She offered me but a glance and took another bite of her banana. “Was feeling a bit funny earlier today. Thought I’d cool off.”

Rejoice, she was sane. As sane as Yanami could be.

“Taking another breather?”

“Eating air udon.”

Perhaps I’d spoken too soon.

She gave me a look. “Do you have any idea how little you gotta eat to lose a bunch of weight fast? All I’ve eaten today is bananas.”

“So eating one in front of udon is ‘air udon.’”

“Now you’re getting it. I eat the banana, I watch the people eat udon, I’m basically eating udon myself. Fills my tummy and soul.”

“And how’s your soul feeling?”

“Empty.”

Demoting the spiritualist to a mere stalker. All joking aside, though, Yanami was genuinely doing this. Dieting. Something she had only ever claimed she was doing anytime she cooked up some crackpot theory that was anything but.

“Hey, uh, you doing okay?” I asked. “Like, health-wise. It’s a big change.”

“I’ll be fine. What do you think I eat so much for in the first place?”

To diet, huh? A woman of great preparedness, she was.

“I mean, a senpai’s gotta put her money where her mouth is sometimes, y’know?”

“I’m surprised. Didn’t think you were taking Shiratama-san that seriously.”

“Well, if I don’t, who knows what crap that girl’ll step in. She’s a loose cannon. If a few photos are all she needs to chill, I say give her a whole album.” I didn’t disagree. She finished off her banana and waved the peel. “Plus, she kinda reminds me of me last year.”

“Last year. Right.”

Himemiya-san had just transferred back then, and that was the source of everything. The inciting incident to Yanami’s ultimate realization that she wasn’t a heroine in Hakamada Sousuke’s story but the obligatory friend side character.

“Gotta wonder where I would’ve landed if I’d been as unhinged as her,” she said.

Unhinged. That was Shiratama-san all right. A girl lashing out because she had nothing else to lose. A girl Yanami never became but knew very well.

“Hindsight’s twenty-twenty,” she continued. “I was a chicken. Didn’t have the guts to be upfront with Sousuke because I knew what’d happen if I was. I was too scared to lose what I had.” She smiled, amused at the past. “Not that I’m feeling mopey or anything. Don’t get it twisted.”

“I know.”

To literally everyone else who weren’t privy to this heart-to-heart, we probably looked like a bunch of weirdos, standing there staring at strangers eating udon. I took out a plastic bag and let Yanami drop her peel into it. “Let’s get ramen when this is over. My treat.”

“I’m down, but you better not be trying to fatten me up.”

“Just get you back to your old self.”

“It’s your funeral, bud. I’m gonna make you regret that offer.” Her lips curled into a playful sneer.

I clumsily grinned back. The regret was hitting early. Made a mental note to hit up an ATM before then.

***

Day four of five. Early afternoon. The president and I leaned against the wall just outside the club room. On the door was a sign: “Changing! No boys allowed!”

The president offered a pack of fruit gummies while we waited on Yanami and Shiratama-san to emerge. “Want one?”

“Oh, sure. Thanks.” I picked one out and ate it. Tasted sour. Orange. It struck me as a little strange that she of all people kept cute little snacks like this on her person.

She chuckled. “Out of character?”

“Huh? No, well, just a little surprising. I assumed someone like you would be pretty strict about your diet.”

“I don’t put on weight well. Snacks are fair game in my book.” She ate a gummy.

So it wasn’t just Shiratama-san. Yanami skewed the data yet again.

“I’m more surprised about all this, though,” I said.

“‘This’?”

“You helping us. I never expected you’d get this involved.”

“It’s as I said. We’ve all been burned by love in some way.” She looked at me. “Or is romance out of character for me as well?”

“I, er…”

She laughed at my dithering. “Do remember that I’m a woman too. Marriage. Wedding dresses. Even I dream of them. Unless you think they wouldn’t suit me.”

“No, I don’t think that at all.”

The conversation withered. We stared at the “no boys allowed” sign on the door. Which didn’t technically apply to her. I waffled over whether to point that out or not.

Just then, the door creaked open. Yanami peered through the crack. “The wait is over. You may enter.”

Finally, we went inside.

“Boom!” Yanami hollered a little too loud. “Behold, Shiratama-chan in a wedding dress!”

Honestly, the volume numbed me a little, but there she was. Pure white flowed down her figure, starting at her bare shoulders. Lace covered her chest, before blooming into a high-low, full, princess-style skirt. It was surprisingly short for what it was—all thigh in the front. The back, though, reached down to about mid-calf. The shoes had short heels that looked suited to ease of wear.

The word “fairy” sprang to mind. Nearly called her one before realizing how weird it would have sounded.

“Um, how is it?” she asked with upturned puppy dog eyes. Cute.

The president beat me to the punch while I agonized over how to not sound weird. “Beautiful,” she said. “I might just whisk you away and keep you to myself.”

See, if I’d said that, I probably would’ve been crucified. But Houkobaru Hibari had said it, so Shiratama-san smiled and blushed like it was the slickest thing she’d ever heard.

Yanami puffed her chest out with unfounded pride, as she so often did. “I did the makeup, and I think it turned out pretty good. Her skin’s so nice, everything looked good on it. I got totally in the zone. Oh, to be young.”

Poor girl didn’t know she was young too. Someone ought to have told her.

The president nodded. “That does it for preparations. Do we have a finalized plan?”

“Asagumo-san’s going to bring it at a later date,” I said. “Can you be here?”

“Of course. I’d hate to be excluded now, of all times.”

This was it. The home stretch. I’d spent nearly my whole Golden Week on this. Thankfully we had a day to spare, and I was going to spend it doing absolutely nothing but reading light novels at home. But until then, I made sure to memorialize the idol of adorableness before me while I still could.

Meanwhile, Asagumo-san entered. “Oh, you look stunning, Riko-san. Everyone, your attention, please.” With that off-handed compliment paid to the angel in the room, she spread out a map on the table. “Our original plan was to use the club room as the staging point where we would get changed, then take a taxi to the venue. But I’m afraid that’s going to make things a little too tight.” She didn’t wait for us to even find what she was looking at on the map. “We’ll want a room nearer to the venue. A hotel would work, or anything we could realistically rent, really, but I’m coming up short on options.”

“Oh, I have an idea.” Yanami tapped the map on Kirinoki High School, right next to the venue. “A friend of mine is in the drama club here. I can ask if we could use the room. Could probably borrow anything we need for disguises too.”

“That has potential,” I said, “but can we just waltz onto campus when we aren’t students?”

The president smirked confidently. “Then make it club business. I have an acquaintance in the faculty and could request access on your behalf.”

Wow. The power of networking. The things actually enjoying talking to people could do for you. They were already on their phones making things happen. Inspiring.

Shiratama-san tugged on my clothes.

“Uh, yeah?” I said.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

How was it? How was her dress? Obviously she looked fantastic, but how was I supposed to convey that without sounding like a creep? Use an analogy? Fairies came to mind. Angels. Kittens. All weird as hell to call a girl.

“The, uh, colors match, and it really brings out the best in your, uh…best features. You elicit…positive emotions such as, um, reverence. And awe. Yeah.”

There. Not weird in the slightest. Now that was an artfully crafted compliment.

Shiratama-san cocked her head at me. “Summarize in one word.”

“Er, cute.”

She giggled, took out her phone, and shot a selfie. All my efforts. For naught.

Yanami put her phone down, fixing me in a cold gaze. “We can use the club room. Changing now. Boys out.”

“Uh, right. Wait, President, you don’t have to leave,” I said.

My eyes locked with Yanami’s as I left. Her lips moved to form exaggerated, silent words that I knew by heart at this point. “That. Right. There.”

***

The final day of Golden Week was upon us. All five of the crime crew had gathered at the gates of Kirinoki High School, just a fifteen-minute bike ride from Tsuwabuki. It was one of those fancy schools with a unique curriculum: First-years all took business classes, and from the second year on, students divided themselves into specific, career-oriented courses like information or finance. They even had cool stuff like IT, but I’d sworn off a future in tech after destroying the family computer one time just by clicking the wrong link.

The place kinda gave me weird vibes too. Didn’t like seeing students at school on a holiday. A statue of Hermes looked down on me coldly.

The president patted me on my shoulder. “I’m going to exchange pleasantries in the staff room. You all go on ahead to the drama club.” Then she went off toward the school building, grocery bag of senbei in hand.

“Where to, Yanami-san?” I asked.

“Back of the workshops, apparently. First floor. The club uses an empty classroom. It’s all ours.” Yanami looked up from her phone and glanced around.

Asagumo-san waved to us. “This way! Follow me!” She scurried off without even waiting. Someone was excited.

Yanami and Shiratama-san started moving first. I trailed behind them.

“Is this a good friend of yours?” Shiratama-san asked her.

“Yup. We’re food buddies. I traded a map I made of all the best ramen spots to get us this room, actually.”

A “food buddy.” They were probably a good person. Far more patient than me.

We eventually came to an old, three-story building. I was a little intimidated, to be honest, but clearly the others weren’t because they went right in. Through dim hallways, we came to a classroom labeled “Drama Club.”

“I’ll just knock,” I said.

“Comin’ in!” blurted Yanami, and in she went. Rude.

Instantly, a stuffy wave of dust and paint hit my nose. Handmade, plywood backdrops and set pieces lined the walls of the ex-classroom. Cardboard boxes stuffed with props littered the floor, and there were about enough costumes on racks to last a lifetime.

In the back was a couch, from which a yawning girl sluggishly stood. “Yanamin, good to see ya. Eatin’ good?”

“Heya, Nina. Actually on a diet these days.”

Yanami and the girl called Nina (who was very clearly and confusingly Japanese) hugged. She had perpetually half-asleep eyes and, to put it bluntly, struck me as a very simple soul.

I waited for a chance to cut in, then said, “Uh, I’m Nukumizu, from the Tsuwabuki literature club. Thanks for letting us—”

“Nukumizu-san? So you’re the guy.” She stared at me. And stared. And stared some more.

“Uh…”

“Oh, sorry. I’m the vice president of the drama club. Niina. That’s ‘nii’ from the kanji for ‘new,’ ‘na’ from veggies.” Niina-san (not Nina) offered her hand.

Was I allowed to touch a girl I’d just met? I glanced at Yanami for approval before taking it. Felt something hard against my palm. “A key?”

“For the room. We do rehearsals in the gym, so this place is only used for changing and storage.” She glanced between me and Yanami. “Anyway, laters. Good luck, Yanamin.” Then she left.

Now there went someone with their head on straight. Surprising, given she was in Yanami’s circle.

She nudged me with her elbow. “Chill, right? The ‘na’ in our names are the same kanji. That’s how you can tell she’s one of the good ones.” But her eyes never left the floor.

“What’re you looking at?”

“You think that food she left’s been there three seconds?”

“I’m gonna say yes. Plus, you’re still on a diet.” I picked up the empty box and searched for a trash can.

The room was in a bit of a state, but it was an ordered chaos. The schedule on the blackboard looked recently updated too. Green flag. These guys were an actual club that did actual club things.

“Very nice,” Asagumo-san muttered, fiddling with her laptop on the floor next to Shiratama-san. “Basically no electrical interference.”

“What, uh, are you doing exactly?” I asked.

“If this is to be our headquarters on the day of, there are certain contingencies I must plan for.” She jumped to her feet, forehead glistening with enthusiasm. “Come, Riko-san! We must be as the great King Bluetooth and pave our way through the world of electromagnetism!”

“I don’t know what literally any of that means, but sure!” Shiratama-san hurried after Asagumo-san as she scurried out of the room, antenna in hand. I worried for our impressionable newbie.

Yanami sure was interested in the trash all of a sudden.

***

I circled around the workshop building where the drama club room was, eyes glued to the map on my phone. Needed to make sure we were familiar with the area. Be prepared for anything. Also, Yanami had gone out jogging, and I was antsy being in that room alone.

The north side of the building was the edge of campus. On the other side of the fence there was a residential area. West along it led to a bunch of tall hedges. Dead end. Right on the other side was the wedding venue’s entrance, not that we could cut through this way anyway.

“Huh?”

I looked up from my phone and saw hedges towering above me. But lowering my gaze, I found a hole just large enough for a person to squeeze through. Coincidence? Not likely.

“Patrolling, Nukumizu-san?”

I turned toward the voice to find Asagumo-san and Shiratama-san. Both covered in leaves. Coincidence?

“You haven’t been digging holes through hedges, have you?” I asked.

“Holes? Goodness, would you look at that.” Her eyes widened in genuine shock.

“So this is a coincidence?”

“What else would it be? Do you know, Riko-san?”

“Nope. Must be a coincidence.” Smile. Shiratama-san needed to get that trademarked or something.

Two against one. Confirmed “coincidence.” On an unrelated note, Asagumo-san was hereby banned from the lit club after this operation concluded. I was losing count of just how many charges we were racking up.

Suddenly, I heard the footsteps. My heart nearly leaped out of my throat, but it was just the president. I sidled over to hide the hole.

“There you are,” she said. “Apologies. I got lost in a conversation.” She showed me a piece of paper. “As promised, you’ve been granted permission to come and go for the purposes of club enrichment.”

Asagumo-san clasped her hands together. “That makes this officially legal!”

“Way to go, Asagumo-senpai!” Shiratama-san took her hands, and they jumped for joy.

The contrarian in me did not share the sentiment.

***

It was just past five, and the sky was starting to darken. Our business at Kirinoki concluded, I’d taken a detour back to Tsuwabuki. Was gonna borrow the next volume of She’s (Literally) the Girl of My Dreams from the club room. It was a slice-of-life rom-com where the main gimmick was no one but the protagonist had ever actually seen the main heroine. This particular volume had been met with harsh criticism at the time of its publishing, so I’d been a little hesitant to start it, but I was feeling brave today.

I threw open the door, all but sure it’d just be me and my precious books, but I was wrong. Shiratama-san was already there and twisting up a bundle of white flowers in wire.

“Oh,” I grunted. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Thought I’d finish up the bouquet. I can’t work on it at home, after all.”

I meandered over to the bookshelf, found my book, then hesitated. I decided to take a seat across from her.

The flowers were fake. Shiratama-san bent and adjusted them with tedious precision until they formed the ideal shape before binding them with even greater precision. Satisfied with her creation, she pinched the flowers together, released, and repeated this motion several times.

“Look,” she said. “I made it so all I have to do is undo this part here and they all splay out. I can hide them under my clothes easier this way.”

“Wow. Not bad.”

Shiratama-san smiled at me, then moved on to the final, decorative touches. “It’ll be okay.” She didn’t look up from her work.

“Huh? What will?”

“Worse comes to worst, I won’t let any of you deal with the fallout. I’ll explain. So it’ll be okay. I promise.”

She said nothing more. Just quietly worked on her bouquet.

“The other day,” I began, “you implied you had nothing to lose.” Here I went again, talking out of my ass. Who were these words for? Certainly not her. She hadn’t asked for them. “I think maybe you do. Big things. Important things. You just don’t know it.” She stopped working. “And, well, once they’re gone, they’re gone. So just, I dunno, consider that. Consider it and appreciate what you have.”

Shiratama-san listened to every word. Patiently. Then, with her eyes still down, replied, “It sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

“It’s…not worth delving into. Really.”

I cast my gaze askance, toward the bookshelf, thinking back to last summer. To just before I realized what my relationship with Yanami really was. In my ignorance, I’d shut her out. Hurt her in the process. And it was right there, in front of that bookshelf, that she’d snubbed me for it.

It’d been nearly a year since then. I still thought about it sometimes.

“Everything comes to an end. We can’t change that,” I said. “But what we can change is how we meet those ends and how we remember the past. That’s where you’re at now. You can still choose. I just hope you know there are options that don’t involve throwing it all away.”

Her hands started to move again. “Some things you have to let go.” I could hardly hear the whispers coming from her lips. “Some things hurt to have. Some things deserve to get thrown away. Even memories.”

Suppose she did that. Suppose she lived life refuting and discarding and abandoning. What would she have then? What life would that be? I didn’t know. But it couldn’t have been a happy one.

“You—”

“Done!” Shiratama-san hugged the bouquet against her chest and sent me a teasing glance. “Cute?”

“Beautiful.”

The word came out on its own. A word born of the false strength and the lie and the loneliness that was her life. Artless and utterly without nuance.

Shiratama-san looked surprised at my slip of the tongue, then quietly smiled. “Thank you.”

And suddenly, I was back in that summer. My chest tightened.

Intermission: Sweet Tea

Intermission:
Sweet Tea

ONE NIGHT, THERE WERE THREE WOMEN IN A condo. They sat on the floor together around a low table. The property’s owner, one Amanatsu Konami, raised her glass, inspiring Konuki Sayo and Shiratama Minori to take up their own.

“Here’s to a happy marriage!”

“Cheers!”

The three glasses met with a satisfying clink.

Amanatsu finished her beer in a single swig, thunking it back down. “I’m just so happy for ya. Tanaka-sensei’s a keeper. Students love ’im, staff love ’im. You hang on tight to that one, Noritama-chan.”

“I very much will. I’m a lucky girl.” Minori refilled her friend’s glass.

Konuki looked up and began counting on her fingers. “You started dating in college, so that makes it, what, seven years now? Took him long enough, considering it was never really up for debate whether you’d get together or not.”

“He wanted me to settle into work first. ‘The first three years are the most important,’ he’d say.” Her face beamed with pride, much to Amanatsu’s and Konuki’s bitter amusement.

“Y’know something, you never introduced us to him all throughout college,” Amanatsu said. “Didn’t lay eyes on the guy until I found out we were coworkers.”

“Why keep him secret?” Konuki asked.

Shiratama Minori clutched her glass firmly in both hands and replied with a grin. “That’s a silly question. Because Nuki-san can’t keep her hands to herself.”

A scallop fell unceremoniously from Amanatsu’s chopsticks. “Say the quiet part out loud, why don’t you. For the record, she’s come a long way.”

“No, she’s right,” Konuki said. “Can’t blame me for wanting what I can’t have, can you?”

“I’m trying to help you here, Konuki-chan.” Alas, to be the voice of reason was ever the fate of the twenty-eight-year-old teacher. At least when in this particular company. She retrieved her scallop while her friends clinked glasses again in odd camaraderie. “Ceremony’s this weekend, right? Got all your ducks in order?”

“Yes, we’re ready.” Minori hesitated. “As ready as we can be.”

Konuki frowned. “Is it Riko-chan?”

She tried to smile. Then quickly gave up. “We’ve hardly spoken a word to each other since, well, everything.”

“There’s momma’s boys and daddy’s girls, but Riko’s nothin’ without her sister,” Amanatsu said. “Probably can’t come to terms with Tanaka-sensei snatchin’ you away.”

Minori deflated slightly. “Maybe. She’s found herself a boyfriend, actually.”

“No kidding?! What’s he like?”

“I think he’s the president of the literature club?”

The other two nearly choked on their drinks. They looked at each other and chose their next words very carefully.

“He’s…fine,” Amanatsu finally said. “Bit of a bland guy, but harmless. Keeps a lot of girls around him, though.”

“It’s no small thing to stay composed around so much feminine energy,” Konuki said. “He’s a diamond in the rough, that one.”

“Um, who is he exactly?” Worry started to creep into Minori’s voice.

“He’s, er, sorta the same breed as Tanaka-sensei,” Amanatsu swiftly clarified.

Minori sat up straight. “Oh. I see. So her type resembles Yuuji-san.” Just as quickly as it had left, a practiced smile adorned her lips. “Anyway, Amanatsu-san, I hear you’ve started online dating. How has that app been? Meet anybody promising?”

“You said you’d matched with someone, didn’t you?” asked Konuki.

“Yeah. Nearly sold me on a condo.” Crack. Amanatsu drank this beer from the can, not even bothering to transfer it to her glass.

Konuki offered a can to Minori. She tacitly accepted with an outstretched cup.

“Today, Konami, we drink,” said the nurse.

“The night away,” the soon-to-be-wedded agreed.

“Hell yeah!” cheered the teacher. “That’s what I like to hear!”

Wind hissed through the open window, causing the curtains to swell. It smelled like summer.

Loss 4: Shiratama Riko Strikes Back

Loss 4:
Shiratama Riko Strikes Back

ASAGUMO-SAN’S FOREHEAD GLEAMED. GOLDEN Week was behind us, and the four of us—that was, Yanami, the president, Shiratama-san, and me—had gathered in the club room after school.

“At last,” she said, “Operation: Shiratama Riko Strikes Back has officially gone golden. The plan will take place in two stages.” She wrote “Phase 1” in big letters on the whiteboard. “Our first objective is to get Yanami-san, the fake Shiratama, into the venue.”

Our secret agent gave a thumbs-up, her cheeks full of banana. The diet was on track. Morale was high.

“That said, Riko-san will presumably be well known by the staff,” Asagumo-san went on. “A superficial disguise will only get us so far.” She wrote “8:30” on the board. “So the real Riko-san will make an appearance first, in her normal clothes, and once she’s been seen, Yanami-san will take her place. All good so far?”

Shiratama-san nodded lethargically, reluctantly siphoning bean paste straight from the tube. She did not look good. Her path to two kilograms had taken a toll. It would’ve been nothing for Yanami, but, well, that was an unrealistic standard.

“The absolute worst-case scenario that we must avoid at all costs,” she continued, “is Riko-san being discovered with her wedding dress. That’s why it’s critical that she be seen in plain clothes first. That way the impression is made, and even if she is spotted, nobody would suspect that it’s her. It wouldn’t even cross their minds, because she—Yanami-san—will be right there with them.”

Asagumo-san paused for questions. None came. She continued filling the whiteboard. “Upon successful infiltration, we enter phase two.” She circled the word several times in red. “This is when Houkobaru-senpai and Nukumizu-san, disguised as photographers, will enter. Your first job will be to attract as much of the staff’s attention as possible. Yanami-san will use this opportunity to escort the real Riko-san, now in her wedding dress, to the chapel.”

Yanami finished her banana and was now gazing deep into the peel. She nodded despondently. Shiratama-san was really starting to look sick.

“Once Riko-san is in position, Yanami-san will give the signal, and that’s when the photography team will lure Tanaka-sensei that way for an ‘equipment test.’” Asagumo-san clicked the cap back on the marker and faced us with a grin. “Thus, begins perhaps the trickiest part of the mission: Nukumizu-san, you’ll need to ensure Tanaka-sensei catches neither hide nor hair of Riko-san during the shoot.”

“How exactly?” I asked.

“The man’s a human being. How are we supposed to predict exactly what he’ll do? You’ll have to think on your feet.”

“That doesn’t—”

Asagumo-san whipped out a thick stack of papers and dropped it on the table before I could argue. “Follow this guidebook. It shan’t steer you wrong.” She flipped it open. “What makes phase two so difficult is the strict time limit. Our objective must be completed between the hours of nine and ten. We get one chance. No do-overs.”

Inside was an extremely detailed outline of the schedule for the day. Tanaka-sensei arrived at nine in the morning. The president and I would enter a half hour later. We had to wrap everything up before ten, when the real photographer showed up.

“If there are any questions, ask them now,” she said. “Or forever hold your peace.”

Her disciples in deception looked at each other. Questions abounded. But where to start?

I decided to bite the bullet. “So, um, if attendees are arriving at 10:30, and Shiratama-san is arriving two hours before that, how is she going to get in?”

“It’s very common for family to accompany the bride before the ceremony, so worry not. Her sister will be there at half past seven, getting dressed, doing makeup, fixing her hair. What this also means is that she’ll be too busy to come see Riko-san when she does arrive.” Asagumo-san flipped through the guide. “The chapel will likely be prepared sometime around nine o’clock. During the shoot, we can expect little to no disruptions.”

The president raised an eyebrow. “Pardon the silly question, but just how do you know all this?”

“Over the last five days, we’ve observed five ceremonies in total. Komari-san has been gathering intel behind the scenes.”

Komari? Was there anybody worse suited to intelligence gathering?

Yanami made a face like she shared the sentiment. “How? Security didn’t get on her butt?”

Asagumo-san produced a sketchbook with a black and orange cover. “She monitored the entrance from the parking lot, sketching and noting what she saw.” Inside the book was a drawing of the venue and the surrounding area. On the next page, notes on people that came and went. “Yesterday, she stood lookout from Kirinoki’s roof. It’s thanks to those observations of the chapel that we have a thorough understanding of how and when the staff enters it.”

“That’s great and all, but why didn’t she say anything?” I asked.

The president took the sketchbook and examined it closely. “A safety measure, I imagine. So that the entirety of the literature club doesn’t come under fire in the worst-case scenario.”

Fair enough. I couldn’t exactly judge. Being a passive observer to all this probably had her on edge. Still, she’d done what little she could for us. And all on her own.

“Keep this between us,” Asagumo-san said. “I did technically promise her I wouldn’t tell any of you.” She raised an index finger up to her lips playfully. Some people had absolutely no concept of privacy. Asagumo-san was some people.

Yanami stopped poring through the guide. “Hey, so why doesn’t Shiratama-chan change at the venue? Why’s she gotta go in, leave, go to Kirinoki, then go back? Feels risky.”

“She can’t realistically enter the venue with an abundance of luggage, given her criminal record, and there’s no telling if a relative will appear early to complicate things. Best we diminish the chances of her being caught red-handed. When she returns wearing it, we’ll conceal it beneath a coat.”

“That’s also why I picked a bit of a low-key dress,” Shiratama-san added before returning to her bean tube.

Asagumo-san waited for more questions. When none came, she took out two black, coin-sized, metal chips and placed them on the table. One had a button. “Yanami-san, you’ll take one of these clickers. The one with the button.”

“Did you say—”

“Clicker. Not fritter. Pushing the button will make its pair vibrate.” She demonstrated, and the other chip buzzed. “Once means ‘advance.’ Twice means ‘retreat.’ Thrice, ‘halt.’ Four or more—run like your life depends on it. Shiratama-san, you will carry its pair. This is how your doppelganger will direct orders to you.”

Direct. It was way simpler and easier than phones or hand signals or whatever. And yes, I was thinking it. I was a man without innocence.

“After the photo shoot, the photography team needs to make certain that Tanaka-sensei returns to the second floor,” Asagumo-san went on. “Yanami-san will then guide Riko-san back out and they’ll make their escape. For details, refer to the guide.”

That thing was seriously huge. I hesitantly picked it up. On the cover was a blank square with the word “Approved” written inside it.

“What’s getting approved here?” I asked.

“The plan, obviously. Go on, leader! It awaits your enthusiastic consent!” Asagumo-san stared at me and straight into my soul. Was I the leader of this whole thing? She pressed harder. “Now! Don’t even think! Stamp, down!”

“Well, uh, I don’t actually have one on me.”

Shiratama-san decided that was her cue. “Here you are, President. I made it myself. And here’s an ink pad. Whenever you’re ready.”

Wow. Imagine that. Someone forging your own signature for you. That was great. Just great.

At risk of being crushed under the weight of peer pressure, I smooshed the stamp into the ink, then onto the guidebook. And there was my name. Nukumizu Kazuhiko. Right on top of “Approved.”

***

After school the next day, we had some time to ourselves. The calm before the storm that would come tomorrow.

I passed by the athletic fields on my way to the bikes, trying to count just how many lines I had crossed in the last half-month alone. In wartime, on a battlefield, I might’ve been called a hero for my recklessness, but unfortunately there was no war, and this was a high school. Making me just an idiot.

The sun was just about below the horizon. Most sports clubs were packing up and getting ready to go. I tried to find her among the runners.

Then my back hurt. A lot.

“Friggin’ ow!” I shouted. Yakishio, still in her workout clothes, patted my back again. Technically lighter. “Still hurts. Not practicing?”

“Cooling down. Headin’ home?”

“On my way to the bike lot to do just that.”

She started walking with me. No asking for approval. She just did. Her eyes flitted left and right, and she lowered her voice. “Yana-chan told me you guys are up to some insane stuff.”

“It’s not… I mean, it is insane.” I half scoffed at myself.

Yakishio’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Anything I can lend a hand with? I can be the muscle.”

“You can focus on track. Still going well?”

She flashed a toothy grin. “Yeah, you could say that. If I win the prefectural prelims this month, I go to regionals. If I win there—”

“You go to nationals.” She nodded enthusiastically. “Feeling confident?”

“More than ever. Wanna see my six-pack?”

“What? N-no. Stop flashing people.”

She cackled. I was feeling a little lighter myself. Honestly, things had been a little awkward between us for a while after our race. Didn’t know why. Or how things eventually went back to normal.

“You and the girls gotta come to one of my races,” she said. “It’ll knock your socks off.”

“I’ll be at the Tokai regionals. Interested in seeing the opener to nationals.”

“Not prefecturals?” Yakishio prodded me, pouting her lips a bit too exaggeratedly to be convincing.

I wiggled away and smirked. “Won’t be much of a race.”

“True.” She smirked back.

Normal. Maybe things hadn’t gone back to normal. In the same way no two summers were ever the same. And we were probably still a bit too wet behind the ears to really comprehend what that meant. What we’d lost. What we’d gained. But I was looking forward to the answer one day.

***

Someone was getting married today. It was seven in the morning, and the sun was up bright and early, pouring its rays into the Kirinoki drama club room. On standby inside were me, Asagumo-san, the student council president, and two Shiratama-sans.

Two. One of them was Yanami in disguise. She wore a wig that matched the real one’s hair, and everything from makeup to uniform, all the way to her shoes, was perfectly mirrored—down to the most minute detail. Aside from the fact that the matter of volume was still an issue (they looked like a before-and-after shot standing next to each other), this was actually shaping up to be promising. You could only really notice the differences when you were looking for them. Even my personal biggest points of concern, those being the genre-splitting difference in chest and thigh size, had been miraculously taken care of.

I was impressed. Truly impressed.

Asagumo-san’s forehead beamed. “There we have it, folks. Nukumizu-san has proven an excellent test subject.”

“What? Huh?” Suddenly, all the girls were judging me.

“The first three places a man looks when faced with a woman are indeed the face, the chest, and the legs. In that order. So long as those areas are made to match, they’re practically the same person.”

“What?! You’re joking, right?!” The eyes. They hurt.

Asagumo-san unabatedly continued, “Women, however, will notice things like hair, makeup, and little details. To that end, she’ll be in her uniform, plain and simple. Hair and makeup have been done identically, and we’ve used blue as a strong accent color to draw the eye.”

Only then did I notice the blue pen in their breast pockets, their blue wrist watches, and their blue nails.

The president studied each of them. “That leaves the tricky issue of voice. Will Yanami-kun simply be avoiding conversation?”

“We’ve accounted for that. Yanami-san, if you would.”

She nodded, then pulled a blue mask up over her mouth. From it came the words, “Hello. I’m Shiratama Riko. Nice to meet you!”

And it was entirely Shiratama-san’s voice. Yanami enjoyed the shock that gave me. I could see her smug face even with that thing in the way.

Asagumo-san gestured to it. “I’ve inserted a thin piezoelectric speaker in the mask. She’ll be speaking with pre-recorded phrases as necessary. Rest assured, the quality is near lifelike. I spared no expense.”

“She did not,” Shiratama-san said gravely. “It was very expensive.”

“Yanami-san’s wig, too, is made from the hair of a young Asian woman of the same age group. A professional has styled it perfectly to Riko-san’s image.”

“It was very expensive.”

Some people had absolutely no concept of modesty. Asagumo-san was some people.

Yanami pulled a recorder from her pocket and started pushing buttons. “Occupied. I’m changing.” “I’m a little under the weather.” “Make that a large, please.” “Can you make the extra rice into onigiri, please?”

I could hear Yanami in a few of those, but they were all in Shiratama-san’s voice.

“We’re as ready for phase one as we can possibly be.” Asagumo-san’s face turned solemn. “That just leaves…”

The girls looked at me again. This worried me.

“Me and the president have to get in disguise now, right?” I asked. “You said you’d handle that part.”

“That’s right. As the only two who will be interfacing with Tanaka-sensei directly, we’ll have to take extra care with you.” Asagumo-san gave Yanami a look. She smiled in delight as she revealed the item she’d been hiding behind her back all this time: a black, extremely high-quality…skirt.

“Excuse me?”

There was no way, right? No way this was the part where they made me cross-dress. Just to get into a wedding venue?

No face covering could hide the sadistic delight on Yanami’s expression. “She’s one of my favorites, Nukumizu-kun. And she’s all yours today. Aren’t I the best?”

“Guys, please, can we be real for a sec?” I pleaded. “There’s no way this works. This is more risky. You realize that, right?”

Asagumo-san swiftly blocked my escape route. “But you proved my theory yourself, Nukumizu-san. Not even family is safe from the normalcy bias.”

“Okay, but doesn’t this mean the president’s going to have to dress up as a boy? She doesn’t want that, does she?”

President Houkobaru flicked a lock of hair over her shoulder. “I’m more than fine with the notion, actually.”

There went my lifeline.

Witnessing my utter despair, Asagumo-san comforted me with a smile. “Don’t worry. We’ve called in the best to do your makeup.”

“Huh? It’s not gonna be you?”

“Cross-dressing requires a particularly skilled hand. Meanwhile, Yanami-san and I have to get ready for phase one.”

A chill went down my spine just then. An icy wind blew. Shadows blotted out the hallway window. From the mysteriously ajar door, something gleamed. Something pale.

“Shikiya-senpai?!” I blurted.

“I heard we were…playing with Nukumizu-kun.”

Staggering and unsteady, my fate slithered into the room.

***

What would Kaju think if she saw me like this? I donned one of Yanami’s white blouses over an undershirt. My shoulders being so broad worried me, but according to her, it was “one of those oversize kinds you wear over layers.” Whatever that meant. Either way, I managed to get it buttoned. The loose collar distressed me somewhat, but that aside, we’d overcome the first hurdle. Now for part two.

I gulped. Before me, it lay silently. Menacingly. Yanami’s black, non-pleated skirt. Along its length, it gently widened, sort of like a blooming tulip. I could handle a woman’s blouse—I couldn’t, actually, but for the sake of argument, I could—but a skirt represented so much more.

“Um, guys?”

“Need help?” Shikiya-san breathed, peeking into my little room.

I frantically pushed her back. “No, I do not! Now please stay out!”

The despair became so great that it wrapped back around and became indignation. Resigned, I yanked the thing up over my pants. Which way was even the front on the thing? I managed to find a hook and zipper, fastening both. After a long, deep breath, I dared to look in the mirror. Staring back at me was a man. A man in women’s clothing.

It was worse than I thought. I threw the wig on next. It didn’t help.

“Gonna keep those pants on?”

“I’ll take them off when you people stop peeping, Yanami-san!” This was never gonna end. I tossed the pants off and threw aside the curtain. “I did it. Happy?”

There were awed sighs. Then applause. They were happy.

“I told you this wouldn’t work,” I grumbled. “I look like a total weirdo.”

Yanami, entirely too enthused about this, came up to me with an elastic band. “Skirt probably doesn’t fit, huh? Brought this to help.”

“Uh, no? It fits fine.” I tugged it a little. “Bit on the loose side, if anything. Will that help?” Nothing happened. “Hello? The band?”

She looked like she was ready to strangle me with it for some reason. Asagumo-san put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s coming together,” she said. “There are plenty of props and shapewear we can use here to adjust as needed. Shikiya-senpai, you’re up.” Then she and Shiratama-san escorted the president into the changing room.

I could see her pulling off menswear well. Something to look forward to.

I noticed Shikiya-san staring. “So you’re, uh, doing my makeup?”

“Not just that.” She staggered closer. “Anatomy… Hard to change. Limbs. Neck.”

“Neck?”

Her bony fingers felt my throat. “Boys have…an Adam’s apple.” She paused suddenly and cocked her head. “Yours is so small.”

Weird thing to have someone say to you. There was a first for everything.

Yanami butted in. “What? Come on, even he has to—whoa, dude, where even is it?”

“Tiny,” Shikiya-san rasped.

“Super tiny. Sousuke’s way bigger.”

I did not like the feeling of two girls calling any part of my body “tiny.” What was even happening right now?

I tried to retreat, but Shikiya-san’s hands were faster. They slid all over my body. “Your legs are…so smooth.”

“Hey! What—” I yelped as she somehow found her way inside my skirt.

Yanami snatched her hand back. “Senpai! The lit club has a strict no touching policy!” She marched her away to a corner of the room.

“But they’re smooth,” Shikiya-san protested.

“Look, I know it’s easy to forget, but Nukumizu-kun’s still a guy. Trust me. Sometimes I catch him eyeing me up like a freak.” She shot me a look. Hey, I had reason to be offended too.

“But he has the body…of a woman.”

“Does he actually?”

I could confirm, fairly reliably, that I had both the body and the soul of a man. They sent concerning gazes my way that made me reflexively cover my skirt.

Just then, the curtain slid open again. The president strode out confidently, without a hint of hesitation or self-doubt. Brown leather shoes. Plaid slacks supported by suspenders. Over a black, high-collared shirt she wore a light brown coat. Her hair was concealed beneath a classy flat cap.

She was absolutely rocking the Taisho-era newspaper reporter look. Gender: Houkobaru Hibari.

“How do I look? Natural?” she asked. “It’s difficult to tell myself.”

“You do. It’s very…convincing.” Wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, but I meant it as a compliment.

Asagumo-san nodded in agreement. “The high collar is to obfuscate the neck area, and with her hair secured nicely in a net beneath the cap, I think we have quite the man on our hands.” She patted the president. “Now, the matter of your figures. We can use layers, shapewear, and bindings to adjust build. Shikiya-senpai, makeup is all yours.” She looked at the clock on the wall. Half past seven. Shiratama Minori would be getting to the venue right around now. “Phase one will begin soon. Once Shiratama-san is in, we’ll wait for an opportune moment, then swap her with Yanami-san. Now, leader! Rally the troops!”

Guess that was me. Right. Awesome. No going back now.

I stood up straight and faced the team. “Operation: Shiratama Riko Strikes Back is a go. I guess.”

***

Yanami’s group moved out. The rest of us stayed back in preparation for phase two.

The soft touch of a brush. The cold of her fingers. Rustling clothes. Her unsteady breath. Her smell, ever present beneath the pungent makeup. Every sensation was doubled with my eyes shut. I couldn’t budge.

“Open,” I heard her murmur.

I lifted my eyelids. In front of me was Shikiya-san’s handheld mirror. Staring back at me was a stranger. I could hardly recognize myself. That was me?

I stood up and examined myself in the full-length mirror. She looked about twenty. A plain girl who didn’t really have much to do with fashion or style, but who nevertheless put in an effort. She probably liked books and daydreamed about meeting that special someone. And it wasn’t just makeup that made this girl. Strategically placed bindings and towels adjusted my proportions, and a scarf hid my neck entirely. We’d chosen a coat that de-accentuated my shoulders. Skin-colored tights clung to my legs.

“Cute,” Shikiya-san summarized. “Would.”

With perfect timing, the door swung open. Asagumo-san and Shiratama-san came running in. “Phase one complete!” wheezed the former. “Yanami-san is in position. No time. Have to get that wedding dress on now.”

“Right!” Shiratama-san hurried after her into the changing area, undoing her ribbons along the way.

“Gonna go help.” Shikiya-san wobbled through the curtains after them. Her involvement worried me somewhat. Couldn’t put my finger on why, though, so I minded my own business.

The president snapped her suspenders, then threw her jacket on. “We’re up next. Once Yanami-kun has seen Shiratama-kun safely to the chapel, it’s our job to escort Tanaka-sensei there. And then, the photos. I’m beginning to feel the nerves.”

The real operation was only just getting started. It would be no hyperbole to say it all rode on us. If the photography team got compromised, then that was it. No photos.

“Where’s the camera, anyway?” I asked.

“Right, Basori-kun supplied one for me. She ought to have brought it to the student council…room.”

We stared at each other blankly for several seconds.

“You mean you forgot it?!” I shouted.

“Hiroto may have put it in my things for me. One moment.” She vanished into the changing area.

How in the hell were we supposed to be camera people without a camera? This could not be the way we went out. After all this.

A polite knock came at the door. Shortly after, it opened. “Excuse me. My name is Basori. I’m from Tsuwabuki?” Tiara-san?! I whirled around, turning my back to her. “Pardon me, but is there a Houkobaru here by any chance?”

“Er, uh, yes!” I squeaked. “Well, not here here! She’s away at the moment!”

I heard a frustrated “for goodness sake” escape under her breath. She approached. “I’m here to give her something she forgot. Where might she be?”

“I-I haven’t the foggiest clue when she might make her return, so you may leave the item here if it pleases you!”

She stopped. “I would much rather deliver it in person. Can I wait here?”

“By all means,” I chirped shrilly. Was this even working? I refused to turn around, or even so much as take a deep breath. I became as the Fairy of Kirinoki. An impish little fae unperceivable to the eyes of all except the most pure of heart.

“May I ask a question?” Perceived. I quietly nodded. Tiara-san paused before continuing. “What exactly is Houkobaru doing here?”

Uh-oh. Was the cat out of the bag?

“Why, for enrichment,” I said. “Enrichment of the drama club. What else?”

“She’s with people from our literature club. What does she have to do with ‘enrichment’ of two clubs she’s not even in?”

“Th-that is the question, isn’t it?” I gulped.

She was quiet for a while. “Not even Nukumizu-san wants to talk to me.”

“Huh? Me?”

“Who?!” I threw my hands up to my mouth. Too late. Hell. “Turn around! Show me your face!” Tiara-san yanked my shoulder. To say her eyes were saucers would have been an understatement. “Nukumizu-san?! What in the world is this?!”

“Uh, funny story about that.”

The curtain swung open. The president emerged. “Oh? I knew I heard Basori-kun. How did you find me?”

“It was written on your schedule! What are you doing—” Tiara-san let out a yelp like a strangled chicken when she saw Houkobaru.

President Houkobaru lifted the camera bag from her petrified hands. “Came to deliver this, did you? You’re a lifesaver, Basori-kun.”

“P… Nu… What… I…” Her lips flapped like a fish gasping for breath. Her eyes darted between me and the president. “The president is a boy. Nukumizu-san is a girl. Oh. Oh, I understand everything now!”

Doubt.

The president nodded with complete confidence. “Whatever you’ve deduced, it’s assuredly the truth.”

“Don’t say that!” I shouted.

Another chicken died in Tiara-san’s throat. Poor thing. It was bleeding through her nose.

She fainted on the spot.

***

It was 9:30. Time for phase two.

I adjusted the bag on my shoulder, staring up at the venue’s entrance before us. Here I was again. Not as a patron but a criminal.

“Wonder if Tiara-san’s gonna be okay,” I said, mostly to distract myself from the nerves.

The president patted me on the shoulder. “She has Shikiya, and I have full confidence those are good hands to be in.”

Doubt. But I digressed.

To my side, I spied two people in an alleyway between two buildings. One was Asagumo-san. The other, Shiratama-san, her wedding dress hidden beneath a coat. Once we were inside, Yanami would be guiding her to the chapel.

With one more pat on my shoulder, the president headed inside. The modern design and tall ceilings were familiar, but the place was far busier today. Employees scurried all over.

She proceeded to the front desk and flashed the business card without hesitation. “Pardon the interruption. Toratani, with Studio Damonde. We’re doing photography for the lucky couple. Mr. Tanaka and Miss Shiratama?”

The employee looked up from the documents on her desk with confusion. “Yes, we’re expecting you, but not until ten o’clock.”

“It’s a new venue for us, you understand. We want to be sure everything is in order. Might we say hello to the groom before we get to work?” The president whipped out one of those handsome grins of hers.

It struck the woman right through the heart. “I-I understand. I suppose I can speak with him on your behalf.”

“We would be much obliged. You don’t mind if we join you, do you?”

The president wasn’t a lady’s man. She was a lady killer. I followed quietly behind them, shoulders slumped in an attempt to make myself as unremarkable as possible.

There was Yanami in her Phonytama disguise by the bathrooms, lingering like a bored child. She noticed us and gave a thumbs-up as we passed by. Not smart.

“I think yours is a beautiful occupation,” I heard the president say. “You should have more confidence in yourself.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say. You have such a way with words, you know.”

“It would be my honor to share them with you whenever you need. Find me at our studio anytime.”

When did the employee lady have time to give the president her whole life story? How much had I missed in the split second I’d taken to criticize a single thumbs-up?

We ascended to the second floor. To the left was the room where we’d received the presentation about a week ago. To the right were the bride and groom suites, right next to one another. Capacity was two ceremonies per day, so there were four of those in total. At the end of the hall extended a flight of stairs that lead to the reception area.

Second from the back was a room labeled “Groom Suite—Tanaka.”

The employee knocked. “Excuse me, sir. Photography is here to see you.”

The door swung open at once. Tanaka-sensei stood on the other side, cleaned up well in his tuxedo. “Oh. You’re early.”

“Indeed,” the president replied, offering a business card. “We wanted to be thorough, given this is our first time with the venue, and conduct a few tests. Is now a good time?”

Tanaka-sensei accepted it enthusiastically. “It’s the perfect time, actually. I was just wondering what to do with myself. Groom privilege, I suppose.”

The president regarded the starry-eyed employee kindly. “Thank you, Natsumi-san. We’ll take it from here.”

“Of course. Just call for me if you need anything.” Odd stress on the “anything” there, but okay. Natsumi-san (which was apparently her name) went on her way.

Now to pray the Shiratama-san escort mission had gone well. I glanced down at my smartwatch while the other two chatted, and with perfect timing a message came through. “Rice is ready.”

That was the signal. Shiratama Riko was in the chapel.

I interrupted the president’s chat with a pat on her back. “Toratani-san, the sun is getting high.”

“That it is,” she replied. “Time is of the essence.” With powerful, gender-defying grace, she held her camera up and beamed. There were no survivors. “Well, Sir Groom, might we trouble you for the photo shoot of a lifetime?”

***

The chapel seemed to twinkle, sunlight pouring in through the windows and reflecting off the endlessly spinning ceiling fan. It made for quite the reverent atmosphere.

The president turned to me. “Start setting up, would you, Kazuko-kun?”

Assuming “Kazuko” was me, I frantically started fumbling with a collapsible reflector from my bag. One of those big, white sheets professional photographers used to make pictures good and stuff. Ours was pretty large—over a meter wide when it was all unfolded.

I hid behind it as Tanaka-sensei meandered over. “Wow. You guys sure know your stuff. Will you be using these for the real thing too?”

“Natural lighting,” the president corrected. “We’re testing the conditions for that now. Four paces to your right, please.”

“Oh, sorry. This okay?”

The president readied her camera. “Perfect. Rotate thirty degrees to the right. Turn your chin toward the wall—exactly. Hold that pose.” About a dozen clicks of the shutter later, she removed her eye from the viewfinder and gestured to me. “Let’s get some more light from the back, Kazuko-kun.”

The signal. I nodded and silently shuffled closer to the pedestal on the altar, careful of Tanaka-sensei’s line of sight. When I circled around the back, I saw her. Shiratama-san, in her all-white wedding dress, acknowledged me with her eyes from the cramped space within. I lowered the reflector to the floor. She crawled out and behind it.

“Still not quite doing it,” the president said. “Kazuko-kun, come forward. Right up to the groom might be perfect, actually.”

Quietly, but not so quietly as to arouse suspicion, I approached. Just three meters. Three short meters. But it felt like a hundred.

“Your collar’s crooked. A little… You’ve got it. Once more.” Click, click, click. “Pivot toward the wall. Keep looking where you are. Perfect! Don’t budge!”

Click, click, click.

We used the sounds as cover. One final step. I moved the reflector aside.

The rest happened all in the span of an instant. Shiratama-san took my place, standing where I stood. Dressed in all white. Bouquet in hand. She settled into her spot next to the groom.

It was only a few seconds. And what the camera had captured would only be a fraction of that.

The president lifted her index finger from the camera. Objective complete. I hurried back into place and dropped the reflector. Shiratama-san crouched behind it at nearly the exact same time that Tanaka-sensei turned this way.

I met eyes with him. Giggled awkwardly. “S-so sorry. Did I get too close?”

“Oh. It’s you,” he said. “I could’ve swore somebody was standing next to me.” He started to get closer.

The president inserted herself between us. “I apologize on behalf of my assistant. That will be all for our test.”

“O-okay? Glad to be of help.”

She wrapped her arm around the flustered man’s shoulder and escorted him to the door. “Just you wait. The snapshots we take, you and your wife-to-be will look back on for years to come. Have you seen her dress yet?”

“Yes, actually. When she chose it.”

“Wonderful. Just wonderful. But you haven’t really seen it until you’ve seen her in makeup.”

They went through the doors, chatting the whole way. As they shut behind them, I noticed Shiratama-san standing next to me. “Feeling good? We actually did it.”

“Yeah. We did.” She was a little distant. Stood stock-still. I felt the prick of a bad feeling.

“Stay hidden until Yanami-san comes to pick you up. I’ll go make sure Tanaka-sensei makes it back to his room.”

She nodded. I folded the reflector back up, then hurried out of the chapel. We were in the final stretch now. Just had to make it out in one piece, and we were golden. I sent the good news to Yanami as I climbed the stairs up to the second floor.

A whole week’s worth of planning. All concluded in a single instant. It was a huge weight off my shoulders to know I wouldn’t need that emergency fallback after all.

But it would all come back when I got Yanami’s reply.

“Shiratama-chan isn’t here???”

***

Shiratama-san was missing. The president, Yanami, and I had convened in her last known location: the chapel.

“I’m telling you, I gave the signal, and she never came out. So I came to check on her, and she just wasn’t here!” Yanami’s explanation came free with wild hand gestures.

The president put her phone down and shook her head. “Asagumo-kun hasn’t seen her exit the venue.”

So she had to still be in it. And if she wasn’t communicating with us, it meant she was up to something.

I fussed with my bangs. “Debating won’t get us anywhere. Let’s split up and look for her.”

“Wise. Luckily, the guests have yet to arrive.”

“Hey, you guys think she’ll let me have the bouquet?” Yanami asked. “’Cause whoever gets it gets married next, right?”

Did that still work if the original owner never actually got married herself? There was always a first for everything, I supposed.

We exited the chapel together. There were only so many places she could be hiding. The guest changing area, for one. The bathroom. A storage room. I kept brainstorming as we made our way to the front desk. There, two men were talking. On the shoulder of one hung a camera bag.

The real photographer.

“Best we retreat, Kazuko-kun.” The president broke me out of my stupor, and we turned back.

Yanami hustled after us. “What now? What am I supposed to do?”

“You shouldn’t be seen with us. We ought to split up.”

We left her behind at the entrance, then came back to the front of the chapel.

“We need to hide,” I said urgently.

“But where?”

“This way.”

I stepped into the greenery between the chapel and the fence that surrounded the venue. There were windows all over the building, but this was a blind spot we’d be safe to lay low at. Once certain we weren’t in immediate danger, we both sighed in relief.

“This is bad,” I said. “There’ll be no talking our way out of it if we bump into the photographer.”

“We’ll simply have to retreat.”

“It’s too dangerous to pass through the front right now. They might be looking for us right this second.”

The president pinched the brim of her cap and looked up at the tall fence. “We climb, then. I’ll hoist you up.”

Mission complete. Obviously, the next logical step was to high tail it out of here. It was the smart thing to do. The rest was up to Shiratama-san. Whether this was enough or not, whether she decided to move on and live her life or not, it was all up to her.

But if she wanted to shove all that, to throw it all away out of spite, well, that was her prerogative too.

“I’m staying.” I didn’t let the president argue. “I can’t abandon Shiratama-san. There must be something I can do. I want to find it.”

“I’ll come with. I can’t leave you here either.”

I shook my head. “There’s a big, black duffel bag in the drama club room. I need you to go get it, then toss it back over here.”

She looked at me in disbelief. “You planned for this from the beginning?”

“That’s giving me a bit too much credit. But I can’t say I’m surprised.”

I checked my watch. Ten exactly. The ceremony started at twelve. I had two hours to find Shiratama-san, make her see sense, get her changed, and then sit her down on one of those pews. Easy.

I gave the president a thumbs-up. “Trust me. I’m kind of a pro at this point.”

The lit club was no stranger to crises, and I was their president.

***

They started letting guests in just past eleven. I emerged from my hiding place just as I saw them beginning to leak out into the garden. Not as Izumi Kazuko, but Generic High Schooler A. The bag I’d had the president fetch had been stuffed with a Kirinoki uniform, and it wasn’t at all uncommon for high schoolers to attend weddings in their uniform, so I had a decent enough cover.

“I love you, pants.”

Skirts were just too breezy for me. But perhaps they were nice in the summer. Toyohashi’s could get pretty sweltering.

I entered the waiting room. Tables and chairs lined the walls. The side facing the garden was all one big, glass sliding door. It was wide open now, letting in the warm, early summer breeze. There were guests chatting all over, but no Shiratama-san. No surprise.

The bar was right there, so I indulged in some oolong tea while I gathered my thoughts. It’d already been over an hour since we lost track of her, which probably meant she was lying in wait somewhere. The first floor was too packed. Maybe the second.

Two women came up next to me as I sipped. “Noritama-chan sure was cute. She’s wasted on Tanaka-sensei, I’m tellin’ ya.”

My heart did a backflip. That was Amanatsu-sensei. I quickly hid my face.

“I think she needs an older man, personally,” the other woman said. “Someone to spoil her rotten.”

Konuki-sensei too? I started to quietly shuffle away.

“Wish someone would spoil me. Shoulda bought that stinkin’ condo.”

“Konami, are you already drunk?”

“You’d know if I was drunk.”

So she was just always like that, on and off the clock. Noted. The depression made an excellent cover for my escape.

I didn’t find Shiratama-san anywhere in the crowds. I decided I’d have more luck in the quieter areas and managed to sneak my way into a dingy hallway that seemed to lead to a storage room. The label on the door said so, at least. I surveyed my surroundings, then tried it. Wasn’t locked. I opened it.

“Shiratama-san?” I whispered. “Are you here?”

It was pitch black. I felt around for a light switch, until something grabbed my arm and gripped it tight. I did, in fact, scream.

“Where have you been, Nukumizu-kun?!” That voice was Yanami all right. She yanked me into the darkness and shut the door. Her phone screen provided the only source of light.

“What are you doing in here?”

“Hiding from Shiratama-chan’s friggin’ family! They all showed up, like, right after you guys left, and what was I supposed to do, let her parents find me?! I’ve been playing hide-and-seek for the last hour!” I tried to say something, but she wouldn’t let me. “And you know what else? Before I found this place, some old guy caught me and started talking about stuff I have no idea about because we literally just met! And he said I was finally ‘filling out’ five whole times! Five! I lost three kilograms for this!”

“So, uh, your cover’s not blown. That’s good. Look, we’ve got to find Shiratama-san.” I checked her phone screen. It was 11:15. Only forty-five minutes to the ceremony. It was a race against the clock.

Yanami, finally out of steam, replaced her mask over her face. “Right. Anyway. She wasn’t in the bathroom, which means she has to be on the second floor. C’mon, I’m making you work.”

We were on the same page. I nodded and opened the door.

***

On the second floor were the bride and groom suites. Ostensibly a private area, but family and friends coming to greet the couple meant there was always a trickle of foot traffic. We checked the area to the left first, opposite them.

The meeting room was about the size of a classroom. They’d held the presentation during the open house here, but today it was just storage. Again, no sign of Shiratama-san. I even checked the balcony through the big window at the far side of the room. No dice. I exited and regrouped with Yanami, who’d just finished checking the other rooms.

“Nothing on my end,” she said. That left only one place. I heard Yanami gulp. “We’re not gonna, y’know, walk in on a crime scene, are we? ’Cause I refuse to be the girl who finds the body. You go first.”

“People have been coming and going here all afternoon. Plus, she very well could be at the reception area further ahead.”

“Reception…” Yanami crossed her arms.

“Got an idea?”

“I’m a genius. It’s the cake!”

“That hungry?”

“Yes, but not the point. Weddings always have these huge, towering cakes, right? I bet Shiratama-chan ate through it and is hiding inside!”

Was she serious? Was I supposed to take this seriously? It was Yanami. Of course I was. “You know those things are fake, right? The only cake part is where the bride and groom cut it.”

“It’s…fake? No. Don’t do this to me.”

Yanami Anna, aged sixteen, pronounced deceased. Cause of death: psychic trauma from the cold, hard club of society known as “the truth.” I sympathized, but there was no time for a funeral right now.

“I’m sure it’s possible to make the whole thing cake, okay? Let’s go. We gotta move.”

“It was real. Once. Maybe before the bubble popped in the ’90s. It’s gotta be real.”

“Maybe if you’re good, the economy will inflate itself again, okay?” I practically dragged her back down the hallway, toward the stairs.

And just our luck, we happened to bump into a middle-aged woman climbing them. “Oh, look who it is! Riko-chan! Remember me? It’s Mitsue, from Kosai!”

And she just had to know Shiratama-san. Just our luck.

“It’s been a long time,” I heard Yanami say in Shiratama-san’s voice. Probably panicked and hit a button.

The Mitsue lady beamed and took her hand. “It sure has! You were all skin and bone in elementary school, but now look at you! All filled out! Er, you look good!”

“I sure do love eating.”

She’d dug her own hole replying in the first place. Now she had to hold a conversation with pre-recorded phrases. She looked at me with a sort of urgency in her eyes that I understood at once. “Go on without me,” they said.

Don’t mind if I do. I started to creep away, shooting her a thumbs-up before taking my leave. Making a concerted effort to ignore the daggers digging into my back.

***

Along the hallway leading to the reception area were four doors. The far door was the bridal suite. Next to it, the groom suite. I reached for the doorknob of the room right before it and turned. It was unlocked.

Soft sunlight blanketed the girl that was inside. Shiratama Riko stood there, back straight, bouquet in hand, as if waiting for someone. My appearance disturbed the calm on her expression, like a ripple through the surface of a still lake.

“I see you got changed,” she said. “You look nice.”

I shut the door behind me. “You’d better get changed too, or you’ll miss the ceremony.”

“True. It’s just about too late.” There was something about her voice that locked me in place. Her eyes were clear, almost mirror-like. “I genuinely had no idea I was this much of a sore loser.” Her gaze dropped. The edge of her skirt swayed ever so slightly. “It’s not enough that I get one miracle. I need another. And another after that, I bet.”

She looked up again. To call this smile weary or simply joyless would be to undermine its weight. This was a mask so deprived of life that it brought only pain to its wearer.

“Shiratama-san…”

“That’s just who I am, I guess. A coward. I tear things apart and don’t even have the dignity to know when to call it quits. So here I am. Running the clock out.” Her lips did not bend. It was willpower alone that held their curve. “You’d better get out of here, President.”

But I didn’t. I just stood there, battered by wave after wave of emotion. It was anger, mostly. At her. At myself. I liked to think I understood her. She was a brat. Someone who really just did not know when to cut her losses. A ditz who just had to take on the world against everybody’s better judgment. The type to put other people’s happiness before her own.

But how many girls did I know like that by now? How had it not sunk into me yet that hers wasn’t the type to accept consolation prizes?

I looked her dead in the eye. “So you’re just gonna give up on him. On Tanaka-sensei.”

Hers was the type to play for keeps.

Shiratama-san froze on the spot. “You’re saying steal him away? Make him mine?”

“Sure as hell am.” I stepped toward her. I was done being polite. “Here you are, sitting on your thumbs behind an unlocked door right next to his room. You want him to find you, don’t you? You’re willing to just leave it all up to chance. You’re willing to bring all of us together to tear apart your own life for you.”

Shiratama-san choked on her words.

I didn’t wait for her to let them out. “But what good does that do you really? You’re not going to give this up. Not after all those years you spent stewing on these feelings. They won’t go away just because your sister’s marrying the guy. They won’t go away just because you burned every bridge you could. Tell me I’m wrong.”

She looked at me like she hated me. Her shoulders dropped. “I will not get in the way of their happiness.”

“So do it when they’re not happy.”

“I…” She opened her eyes wide as she tried to find a way to argue but ultimately couldn’t. Finally, she shook her head. Resigned. “I didn’t think you could be this mean, President.”

“Yeah, well, sorry if I ruined your opinion of me.”

“Not really, actually. If anything, I feel…exhilarated.” She dropped her bouquet. “I’ll wait.” Her eyes turned up. That same adorable gesture. The slayer of men’s hearts. “I’ve been waiting as long as I can remember. Over ten years, I’ve hid these feelings. I can wait ten more.”

“Then you’ve got somewhere to be. A wedding to celebrate. Family to be there for.”

“Right.” The strength was back in her voice. Life returned to her perfect smile.

“If you hurry now, you should be able to make it in—”

She moaned suddenly. Like, that kind of moan. Shiratama-san started to blush and fidget. “Wh-when I say ‘exhilarated,’ I don’t mean, um… It’s the thing. The thing Asagumo-san gave me. The vibrating one. I didn’t have anywhere to put it, so I…taped it to my thigh.”

Was I a prophet?

“Why is it going off?”

“Yanami-san has been spamming it f-for a while.”

A while? One vibration meant “advance.” Twice for “retreat.” Four or more…run.

I threw myself at the door and locked it. The doorknob rattled an instant later.

“Locked? Yamashita-san, do you have a key?”

“I should. One second.”

Men were on the other side. Staff, probably. And they’d get in any second. No time to even spare a glance back at Shiratama-san. Only one door. Only one other place for us to go.

We threw open the window and dived out onto the balcony without even looking. The door opened a second later. We crouched down low, out of sight, not even daring to breathe. The men’s voices from inside reached us.

“Whose coat and bouquet is this?”

“Last group must have left it. Hang on to it.”

A coat? I’d nearly forgotten Shiratama-san had worn a coat over her dress on the way here. The men eventually came over, shut the window, and locked it. No going back that way. Were we gonna have to sneak out of the venue with her in a very visible wedding dress?

“In for a penny, in for a pound, President,” Shiratama-san whispered, reading my mind. True words in this scenario. We were in for more than a pound, to be frank.

The garden side of the balcony had waist-high railing, but parts of it were latticed, making our hiding spot not much of a hiding spot. We couldn’t stay here long. For multiple reasons.

I checked my watch. Thirty minutes to the ceremony.

***

The window rattled open. We’d circled all the way around the balcony to the meeting room on the other side of the building—where we’d searched for Shiratama-san just earlier—and managed to slip back inside.

I crossed the room and pressed my ear against the door. Nobody on the other side. I exited and gestured to Shiratama-san to follow me into the hallway. It was a straight shot, then a hard left. Peeking around the corner, I could see the stairs just a few agonizing meters away. Even further down was the suite we’d just escaped from, but all we had to do was get down those stairs and we’d be at the front entrance. We’d have to grit our teeth and sprint for it, but we could make it.

Problem was, Yanami was still right there at the top of the stairs, surrounded by middle-aged women. They had multiplied.

“Look at you, Riko-chan! You’ve gotten so big!” one clucked.

“You’re like a different person, all that meat on your bones!” yapped another. “It’s a good look, dear.”

Still holding out, it seemed. Our eyes met. My brain was instantly flooded with mean words and abuse. Didn’t she know staring was rude? Yanami started making her way in my direction. I shook my head and pointed behind me. She froze, thankfully getting my intended message, then cocked her head. I pointed to the stairs next.

For a moment, she didn’t move. Her eyes shut tight, then shot open again. “Does anybody else want to see my sister’s dress?!” she blurted. In her own voice.

The women were stunned.

“Oh, dear, what happened to your cute little voice?”

“You’re a Tsuwabuki student now, Riko-chan. Best mind your tone so nobody takes you for a simpleton.”

“I do want to see Minori-chan’s dress, though!”

The gaggle moved, with Yanami at the center. Our escape route was clear. Shiratama-san and I nodded to each other, then hurried along. In our hearts, we held the hero that was Yanami. Her sacrifice would not be forgotten.

By some miracle, the stairs were clear. We sprinted the whole way down and started the mad dash for the front door—until something made me stumble to a stop. Shiratama-san bumped right into me.

“What?” she asked. “We just have to go. Make a run for it.”

“It’s, uh…” I peeked around the corner.

Shiratama-san did the same, then flung herself back just as fast. “Dad?!”

The man himself, Mr. Shiratama, was right where we needed to go, engaged in conversation. If I hadn’t seen his picture ahead of time, we’d have been screwed just now. Shiratama-san pressed her hand to her chest, practically hyperventilating.

“We’re not going to let your dad see you,” I said. “We’ll just have to wait for him to leave.”

“Right. Okay.”

Then it hit me. The person he was talking to was a staff member I recognized from the open house. And the bride’s father was supposed to escort Shiratama-san’s sister to the chapel once the ceremony started, which we were only twenty-five minutes out from. Meaning Mr. Shiratama’s next destination was very likely the bridal suite.

The voices drew nearer. From above, a separate set of voices approached. I recognized them as the group of young men who’d forced us out the window earlier.

“President!” Shiratama-san hissed. She clung to my shirt, the color draining from her face.

Talk about a rock and a hard place. We had to run somewhere, and back to the second floor was the preferable option between the two, but then where would we go? I had to get Shiratama-san out of here at least. As long as she—

“E-e-excuse me! H-has anyone seen a c-c-cat run through here?!”

Everyone’s eyes went to the blubbering, shouting girl. It was Komari. And she was doing her damndest, despite the incessant warnings from staff, to block Shiratama’s father’s way.

The man, no less flustered than she, smiled calmly at her. “Just breathe, okay? You’ve lost your cat? I can’t say I’ve seen any, but tell me what I should look out for.”

“I-it has really bad manners and e-eats everything it sees! We have to find it q-quick!”

Was its name Yanami? Joking aside, her distraction was working. Staff started scattering and questioning guests for information.

“I-it went that way!” Komari shouted. “T-to the kitchen! Quick!”

“All right, all right, no need to shove,” the man said.

With Komari’s encouragement, Shiratama’s father and all the staff made for the kitchen. All to find a cat that did not exist. Shockingly, the way was now clear, but the footsteps from above were getting closer.

I grabbed Shiratama-san’s hand, and we dashed. Past guests. Through the door. Past yet more confused guests in the parking lot. Not our most subtle performance, me running with a girl in a wedding dress in tow, but we didn’t have the luxury to care. I was following along the building’s perimeter, making for an alleyway, when Shiratama-san pulled her hand away.

“My shoe!” she exclaimed. It had fallen back at the door. But in the time it took me to question whether or not to fetch it, staff were already on our tail. Just because it wouldn’t be fair for things to go too well.

No time to think. I swept Shiratama-san up in my arms and bolted. “President?!”

“Close your eyes! About to hit the hedges!” With her cradled in my arms, I slipped through the gap between buildings. She was heavier than Kaju, but compared to Yanami? I might as well have been hauling pillows.

I barreled through that convenient little hole Asagumo-san had found by pure coincidence. Shiratama-san let out a cute yelp. I kept running.

***

I stared up at the Kirinoki drama club room’s ceiling as my chest heaved up and down. We’d made it. We’d made it, right? I hadn’t actually bothered turning around to check. I just ran. It was a miracle we made it this far, but the miracle had run out. My lungs and legs burned. My back and arms ached.

“Feel free to put me down.”

“Huh?!” Greeting me back on planet Earth was Shiratama-san’s face, right next to mine. I quickly released her. “Sorry. You okay? Hurt anywhere?”

“Not a scratch on me, thanks to you.”

I strained my ears. No sign of pursuers. Just the usual hustle of the sports clubs and the din of the band.

“I think we’re in the clear,” I said.

“Looks like it. We can breathe.” Shiratama-san reached for my head and picked off a leaf.

We were alone in the dim room. Me, and my kouhai in a wedding dress. I backed up, scratching my face. “Only fifteen minutes left. You’d better get changed.”

“Bit of a shame to take it off so soon, isn’t it?” She looked down at it sadly and did a twirl. The sequins twinkled. “How do I look?”

“Um, didn’t you already ask that?”

“I’m asking again.”

She was being oddly forward. I didn’t argue. “You look nice.”

“Elaborate.” She leaned forward and turned her eyes up insistently. No getting out of this until I spelled it out. I’d played my fair share of dating sims.

“Cute. You look cute. There,” I said brusquely. “You got two. No more.”

For some reason, my attitude didn’t dampen her mood. Quite the opposite.

Shiratama-san slowly put her arms up to my shoulders. “Wanna kiss?”

Kiss. Kiss? That thing they did at the end of every rom-com? But that wasn’t right. These days, some rebels went as far as doing it chapter one.

Kiss. Kiss?! Us?! Here?! Now?!

I launched myself backward. A little harder than I probably meant to. “Y-you shouldn’t joke about that, Shiratama-san!”

“Do you want to or not?” Her head titled alluringly.

“N-no.”

“What? Really? Okay, I guess.” Her arms fell back to her sides.

Huh. Wait, was she not joking? What? What volume were we on again? My brain couldn’t keep up with this.

She went to the changing area. “Gonna get dressed. I’ll go to the ceremony like a good girl.”

“O-okay.”

No way. Get a grip. Of course it was a joke. What else could it have been? If I’d taken her seriously, all that awaited me would have been a lawsuit. I knew how these things worked.

Shiratama-san glanced back at me as she pulled the curtain aside. “I didn’t think that you were…”

“Huh?! That I’m what?!” My voice cracked.

She giggled. “Such a coward.” Then pulled the curtain shut.

***

My phone dinged for the umpteenth time, ripping me back from the edge of sleep. Shiratama-san had changed and gone off to see her sister get married. I, meanwhile, had become a bump on a log. The log was the couch. Must’ve gotten really into the role, because I didn’t remember anything after her leaving. Probably passed out.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. A Tsuwabuki blazer fell to the ground. Someone must’ve draped it over me. But I was already wearing a blazer. Was probably a fashion statement to be made in there somewhere. I scooped it up. Nice, comfy size for draping. Had to be Yanami’s.

A glance at my phone told me I hadn’t been asleep even an hour. I skimmed the messages. Some complications aside, the mission had been a success. Asagumo-san and the president were collecting some equipment they’d left around. Something about laws and radio devices or…something. Things we’d get in big trouble for if people found out.

Now, to the future. Shiratama-san had decided to hold on to her feelings toward Tanaka-sensei for now and be a good sister-in-law. If she decided to join the lit club, that’d be just fantastic.

I stood and hung Yanami’s blazer up on a rack. Then I saw the changing area’s curtain shake.

“Nukumizu-kun? You alone?”

“Oh, Yanami-san. You’re still here. Thanks for the blanket.”

Thank god I hadn’t mumbled anything incriminating to myself.

“I need you to come here,” she muttered.

There? Inside the curtain? “Changing rooms aren’t typically for sharing.”

“I’m dressed, dude. Hurry.”

So why didn’t she just come out herself? Only one way to find out, plus acquiescing was the path of least resistance here. I ducked behind the curtain, whereupon I lost the ability to speak.

Yanami was wearing Shiratama-san’s wedding dress. Her head was hung. Her bare shoulders shook. Her chest, occupying more physical space than Shiratama-san’s, was in a dangerous state. The dress was struggling.

“What am I looking at?” I asked.

“Undress me.”

I nearly choked. Was this real life? A dream? Nightmare, more like. She slowly looked up. Tears were in her eyes.

“I don’t think I’m the guy for this—”

“I just wanted to try it on, but now I can’t take it off! You gotta help me!” Stunlocked. “The zipper won’t budge, man! I think it shrunk a little. That can happen the first time you put something on!”

But of course. Happened to the best of us. This was a nightmare after all.

“I’ll get Asagumo-san or someone else. Hang tight,” I said.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, are you trying to traumatize me?! Don’t you dare tell a soul about this!” This just in: I did not have a soul. Yanami turned around and held her hair up. “Just unzip it!” she whined. “Hurry!”

Sure, okay. This was happening. Wish it wasn’t, but this was one of those situations where you kinda just had to roll with the punches. I would know. I was good at that.

I braced the zipper with my left hand, then pulled with my right…

“Holy crap, how has this not popped yet? It’s stuck stuck.”

“Maybe you just need to work out more.”

I could just leave her here. That was an increasingly appealing option. But that wasn’t the way of honor. I clenched and pulled harder. With every second, I could see just a little bit more skin. I looked away. The zipper made it halfway down, but there it stayed, refusing to move another centimeter.

“What’s the hold up? Yank that sucker,” Yanami said.

“Hang on, I can’t. It’s caught on something underneath. Looks blue?”

“Something blue?” It took her a bit to process that. Then she shrieked. “Wait, that’s my bra!”

The blue thing was underwear?! I could kinda see the hook on it, actually.

“All right, I really should just call somebody.”

“Uh, did I say bra?! I don’t wear those! Not me!”

How was that any better? Then again, she was the one telling me to keep going, so if I backed off like a wimp now, I’d never hear the end of it. I resolved to see this nightmare through to the end.

“No looking!” she spat. “And no touching!”

“Trust me. Don’t want to.”

“Uh, excuse you, I do my laundry! You know what? Touch all you want. Just get this thing off me.”

What would ever compel me to want to touch another person’s underwear? I did have to get a move on, though, or we’d be there forever.

“Hey, you got any butter or margarine on you?”

“Why? You turning me into dinner?”

Wasn’t planning on it. Who did she think I was? Her?

“I was going to use it to help the zipper move better. But yeah, like you have that just lying around somewhere.”

“In my bag.”

But why, though? Irrelevant. We had a nightmare to wake up from. And soon after, with the help of animal fat, we did.

***

Sprinting all the way here with Shiratama-san in my arms had not been a third as exhausting as this entire experience was.

Yanami fell into the couch next to me, back in her uniform. “I feel violated.”

I felt people could take that dangerously out of context. Also, the audacity to say that to me after what she’d just put me through.

She finished messing with her ribbons and sighed. “So how’d you convince her?”

“What do you mean?”

“Shiratama-chan was pretty much hellbent on starting some crap, but you pulled her back from the edge just like that? How’d you do it?”

There wasn’t much to tell, really. Especially when it was kind of a private thing. I chose my next words carefully.

“I guess I just, uh…helped her realize there’s always tomorrow,” I said.

“What’s that mean? You teach her about delayed gratification or something?”

“More or less.”

Delayed gratification. Sometimes the end wasn’t the end. Sometimes, the thing you were looking for wouldn’t find you until days down the line. Maybe years. Maybe by the time it did, you wouldn’t even notice it. You could be looking for something else entirely different by then. Me, I never trusted my present self. Helped keep me from being too disappointed. Putting too much pressure on myself.

Shiratama-san would go on to live her life, and maybe she’d walk the homewrecker’s path and one day take Tanaka-sensei for herself. Or maybe she’d move on and find somebody new. However things ultimately fell, and fall they would, that was the business of the future, and the only one responsible for it would be whoever she saw in the mirror that day.

I caught Yanami making a face at me. “What?”

“You didn’t try to act slick and pull something on her in the heat of the moment, did you?”

“What? Of course n—”

I remembered the look in her eyes. How they’d almost sucked me in. Wanna kiss?

A prank, of course. An offer to be taken seriously at my own peril. Shiratama Riko was a dangerous woman.

“I knew it!” Yanami shouted. “You did something, didn’t you? Didn’t you?!”

“No! I turned her down, obviously!”

“Turned what down?!” Oops. Too much information. Yanami grabbed me by the tie, madness twisting her expression.

I had to do something before I was irrevocably mischaracterized. But it was as I floundered for a way out of the hole I’d dug for myself when I felt two pairs of eyes from the door. Sure enough, Asagumo-san and the president were looking this way. Most amused.

“Play nice,” they said.

In perfect unison, we shot back, “It’s not what it looks like!”

Epilogue: Shiratama Riko of Class 1-F

Epilogue:
Shiratama Riko of Class 1-F

FIVE DAYS PASSED. JUST LONG ENOUGH TO LOOK back and shudder at just how stupid what we’d done had been. Up until recently, my philosophy had been to mind my own business. Never rock the boat. My high school career would be an unremarkable one. Little did I know my second year would open with a heist.

I pedaled up to my house and parked. Two weeks. The lit club had been relatively disbanded for two weeks. That was to be our punishment. I thought we’d pulled off a relatively clean operation, but I’d forgotten one very important thing: Komari. Komari had barged right in without a disguise to help us escape. It was no wonder that’d come back to bite us. Despite our best excuses—that being it was all part of a surprise Shiratama-san had been planning, which the venue staff actually bought—the Tsuwabuki faculty who were very much there at the time weren’t forgiving.

What did being “relatively disbanded” entail? What did it mean? I did not know. Neither did anybody else.

“I’m home,” I announced. I noticed many pairs of shoes at the door and sighed. Reluctantly, I trudged into the living room.

“Took ya long enough, Nukumizu-kun.”

“B-be better.”

Greeting me were the faces of the lit club, Yanami and Komari. One thing relative disbandment did, apparently, entail was revoked access to our club room. Making my house our new meeting spot for whatever reason.

Shiratama-san trotted over and took my bag for me. “Evening, President. They’re throwing me a welcome party!”

“Huh. That’s nice,” I said. “Er, I can get my own coat.”

“Please, it’s my pleasure. I’ll just go hang this up.”

Shiratama Riko was our newest face. An official member of the literature club. Nothing like a do-or-die situation to forge and strengthen bonds.

“Breaking news, hot air moving in from the north,” Yanami droned. “Wind speeds over five meters per second.”

“H-hope your head pops,” Komari added. All in the name of friendship, of course. The banter was naturally a testament to our bonds. As was the fact that she had helped herself to my secret stash of manga, and that Yanami was eating my pudding.

Wasn’t it just heartwarming?

“Nukkun’s back? Hey!” Yakishio appeared, drying her hair with a towel. Her excuse for being here was that the run from school made a good warm up, apparently. Which was all well and good, but I wished she’d stop borrowing our shower. For my heart.

Shiratama-san handed her a glass of tea. “For you, Yakishio-san.”

“You’re the best, Tama-chan!” She chugged it down, then sat at the dining table with Yanami and Komari.

I didn’t have it in me to insert myself, so I took a spot on the couch. From behind me, I smelled something sweet.

“The cheesecake is done!” Kaju emerged from the kitchen with a big ol’ cake in her hands. Yanami cheered.

I looked down at my phone. Message from Konuki-sensei. Apparently, we had a lot to thank her for regarding the whole relative disbandment thing. It would have been no surprise for them to hit us with the full thing, but for how unlucky it was that faculty from both schools had been at the venue, it ended up being a blessing in disguise. Among them had been…acquaintances of Konuki-sensei’s. I didn’t ask. Too scary.

“Gotta remember to thank her properly,” I mumbled.

In any case, the message was about potential house visits. Being the supervisor of a club that was ambiguously on the brink, I figured she wanted a way to stay connected to her students.

As I started to fiercely type out a firm “no” so I could get some of that cake, an email notification dropped down from the top of my screen. It was from Shiratama-san, and it came with an attachment. Looked like a story of some kind.

“Better get your butt over here, or there won’t be any left!” Yanami said to me.

“Don’t wait up,” I replied. “Go on and eat.”

I opened the file.

***

Literature Club Activity Report: Shiratama Riko The Fixer in the Sunless Row House

On the outskirts of Edo Castle, before the great maw of Sujikai Gate, and south along the Yatsukoji, was the Nihonbashi fish market. Far removed from there stood a seedy row house, in which a man wielded a brush with great passion. A concoction of warabi bracken and persimmon tannin coated its hairs, then the sturdy wood of the rib of a bangasa. When he was satisfied with his work, the man did not let out a breath but held it as he aligned the oil-paper to his meticulously crafted frame. He admired this work too, then took up the brush again.

It was then that a bell rang through the quickly darkening sky. The sound of evening. Hongokuchō’s Bell of Time. Oil was getting very expensive. The man, quite literally, could not afford to make mistakes fumbling in the dark. He set his brush back down.

“Yuunosuke-san? I’m coming in.”

Before the man could answer one way or the other, the girl slid open the shoji screen door. She was a very small thing with hair done up neatly in the yuiwata style, of no more than fifteen, perhaps sixteen, years of age. Lips pressed together to a point, she stepped inside and onto the earthen floor.

“O-Rin-chan. Impeccable timing. I’m rather short on funds.”

The girl called O-Rin invited herself in, stepping up from the doma into the room proper before seating herself there. She regarded the umbrellas by the wall to her side, her expression an iron mask, and opened and closed each. “Three bangasa?” She wrapped them in furoshiki cloth. For them, she placed a single silver shu.

“Awfully stingy, no? I have debts to repay.”

“You were given an advance. This is the remainder.” O-Rin was not going to change her mind. But she was weak to the look on Yuunosuke’s face. From her silk, drawstring purse she produced a second silver chip. “Never say I didn’t help you.”

“My sincerest thanks. With this, I can have rice for dinner.” The man stowed the shu into his sleeve, then studied O-Rin’s expression. “Is something the matter?”

“Perhaps not, if you can explain the reason you have not come to teach me arithmetic, as per our arrangement.”

Yuunosuke withered slightly at the girl’s disgruntled tone. “I believe it best if I keep my distance from the Shirota estate.”

“Why? Is it my sister? She’s…” O-Rin bit her lip and hung her head.

It was not so long ago that Yuunosuke was to be married into the Shirota family. They were affluent people in Terifurichō, primarily dealing in the sale of umbrellas and geta. Far better than the fourth-born son of a Sanshū samurai with no hope for inheritance could ever ask for. O-Rin had made herself ready to welcome her new brother-in-law into their home. That was until the loss of Mino, her older sister.

“I have no place among magnates. From the start, it was too good a proposition for somebody like me.”

“Please, ‘magnate’ is hyperbole. We stay afloat merely wholesaling umbrellas to our larger peers.” O-Rin held the bundle of umbrellas close to her chest. She had played the part of an adult well until then. “There’s talk of wedding me. To the third son of the Sakakis.”

Yuunosuke nearly choked on his breath. He was fifteen years apart from the girl. She was but a child to his eyes. And yet she was old enough to be wed.

“I wish you the best,” he said.

The Sakakis earned their fortune through the sale of clothing at Nihonbashi, and rumor had it they had come under the purveyance of the Imperial House. There were certainly worse men to marry from a practical standpoint.

O-Rin stood, unimpressed with the man’s reply. “Expect more materials tomorrow. Do not be late.”

Yuunosuke nodded, and the girl left. She did not shut the door. The man simply stared out it in a daze. For him, Mino was ever in his heart, ever unchanging from the girl she had been three years ago. For him, time had not moved a second since that day.

“O-Rin-chan’s getting married, is she?” A young man entered through the open door, placing a small tobacco box onto the dirt floor, then producing a kiseru from his breast.

“Eavesdropping is rude, Nukuzou.”

“No such thing as privacy in row houses, much less one as shabby as this.” The tobacco merchant lit his pipe, sucked, then blew. His favorite activity. “The Sakaki’s thirdborn. Infamous, that one.”

“Is he?” Yuunosuke was not good at feigning interest. He instead busied himself putting up his tools.

“His folks sent him to study swordplay, in the hopes martial pursuit might hammer the boy into shape, but word is he’s running with an even worse crowd these days. Methinks old man Shirota’s not found himself with a son-in-law but a problem.” Yuunosuke was not moving anymore. Nukuzou shrugged and held out his hand. “Want answers? I’ll make it cheap. For old time’s sake.”

“You’d rob the poor?” Yuunosuke fished inside his sleeve, then handed his shrewd, former colleague a single shu.

“Pleasure doing business. I’ll put the rest on your tab.” Nukuzou collected his things and stood to leave but turned to the umbrella maker one last time. “You can always come back. Blood is not so easily washed from a blade.”

Yuunosuke shook his head, gesturing to the daishō leaning against his wall. “It’s no longer mine to clean. What you see are imitations. The real ones were taken as collateral.”

“I see. Shame that look in your eyes can’t be so easily sheathed.” Nukuzou said no more before taking his leave.

Once certain Nukuzou was gone, he removed a single, old tatami mat. From beneath it, he retrieved the past he once thought long forgotten. Mikawakuni Kanetsugu. A katana that had been left to him by his father upon his departure from his homeland. He gripped the sharkskin hilt, and it gripped him back.

He would never wield this blade again. Or so he had once told himself.

“Suppose you can’t let some things go,” the man said to no one. A theatric soliloquy to an invisible audience.

Time moved once more.

***

A period piece, huh? It was surprisingly well written. Character names and content aside. I decided not to point that part out because I valued my life.

“You read my story, I see.”

I turned toward the voice in my ear. Shiratama-san was behind me. “How long have you been there?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She circled the couch and took a seat next to me. “I’m really happy you got to be my first.”

She was doing this on purpose. Everything about her, from her mannerisms to her choice of words, was calculated. I knew this. I also knew it was the adult’s job to let the young’uns have a win every now and then, so when I made note of her particularly sweet scent or the oddly short length of her skirt, it was with perfect lucidity. I was ready to be manipulated.

But Shiratama-san defied my expectations when her expression softened. “It was a beautiful ceremony.” Her usual smile was replaced with one of a different kind. The genuine kind. “They looked so happy. My sister and Oniisan. And seeing them like that, it made me happy.” Behind us, Kaju was refilling cups of tea. Shiratama-san shot a glance that way, then whispered in my ear. “You would’ve been the cherry on top, you know.”

There she went again. Manipulating me. Not that I was actually smitten or anything. It was a president’s job to be receptive to his constituents’ words. But if I had been a little bit smitten, it wouldn’t have been my fault. Could anyone blame me?

“Speaking of, want to see pictures?” With nary a betrayal of her actual motives, she pulled her phone out. On the screen was her sister in a wedding dress standing next to Tanaka-sensei in his tuxedo. The resemblance to Shiratama-san was uncanny. Her dress hung low, and in her hands was a white bouquet.

“Wait, is that…?”

It was. In Tanaka Minori’s hands was the bouquet Shiratama-san had made. We never did go back for it, but how had it made it all the way to her?

She knew. My god, she knew. But how much?

I looked up and locked eyes with Shiratama-san. “Always one step ahead of me,” she said. “A worthy opponent.” Then she smiled and even laughed a little. It faded, though. “I think I know what it is that makes me feel so comfortable around you, President.”

“Uh, you do?” I wasn’t sure how to reply.

Her lips curled back up, ever so slightly. “There was this lot in my neighborhood where tall susuki grass grew. We used to play hide-and-seek there as kids. The three of us, I mean. It’d wither come autumn, and my sister and I used to joke that it smelled like Oniisan.” She sniffed the air. “You smell the same. I like it.”

Oh. Apparently I smelled like dying susuki. Guess I’ll die.

“Now that he and my sister have gone and gotten married, I don’t really have anyone to lean on the way I used to with them. That part makes me sad.” She placed the tips of her fingers gently on my lap and leaned into my ear. “But maybe you can be my new Oniichan?”

First little brother role-play, now big brother? Interesting. I was more familiar with the latter, personally.

Just then, my blood ran cold. Murder. Murder was in the air.

“Oniisama.” A voice from behind crept down my spine. “Tea?” Kaju stood there with a cup in one hand and a teapot in the other.

I was chilled to the bone and also sweating bullets at the same time. “I-if you’re offering, I guess.”

Shaking, I took the cup. Kaju poured. From a concerning height. The piping hot liquid drew a perfect arc into the cup, clouds of steam obscuring my view. And an instant before it overflowed, she stopped.

“Drink it while it’s hot. My dearest Oniisama.”

“D-don’t mind if I do.” I put my lips against the rim and drank it down before the bulging liquid could spill out. It was frigid. But how could that be? What about the steam?

Shiratama-san grinned at Kaju. “You’re awfully close, hm? I’m jealous. I always wanted a brother like you have.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It is a sad reality that my Oniisama has and will only ever have one little sister, but I’m sure you’ll get over it.”

“Suppose I’ll have to make do with just kouhai.”

“Now and forevermore.”

“Aw, you’re such a cutie, Kaju-chan.”

It should have warmed my heart, seeing them beam at each other. And yet all I could do was tremble. There was an easy remedy for this: the non sequitur squad. I looked to them for help, only to find them about to leave.

“Where are you guys going?!” I pleaded.

“Hungry!” Yanami shouted back. “Goin’ to a convenience store!”

“Gotta get back to practice,” Yakishio said.

“B-buy the next volume of that manga,” Komari commanded.

Then they were gone. Traitors. Leaving me to die. Kaju subsequently claimed my lap for herself.

Shiratama-san smiled. “You two have such a beautiful bond, President.”

“Yes,” Kaju said. “We do, don’t we?”

“R-right,” I said, staring despondently into my tea.

Shiratama Riko of class 1-F. The literature club’s newest weirdo, and its newest lease on life. What a way to kick off the year.

Birds of a Feather Balk Together

Birds of a Feather Balk Together

GONDOU ASAMI WAS A THIRD-YEAR IN JUNIOR high now. The stage of life where every topic of conversation with every adult was about which high school’s entrance exam she was preparing for. Consequently, she was spending her day off at Machinaka Library, near Toyohashi Station. She and her friend, both applying to the same school, were supposed to be studying, but instead they found themselves in the café downstairs. Nukumizu Kaju’s mind had been elsewhere.

“Somethin’ with your big bro?”

Kaju’s eyes widened at the bluntness of her question. “Wow, Gon-chan! How did you know?”

Gon-chan replied with a grin and poured some herbal tea from the pot. The herbs used in it were grown on the roof of this very building. It was her latest obsession. “Spill the beans. Tell me what’s gotcha down.”

“It’s just, his club got a new member.” Kaju sucked orange juice through a straw.

“Hey, good for him. You were just tellin’ me how nobody was biting.”

“Right, well, it’s a good thing on its own. But this person is…” The little girl heaved a dramatic sigh. “She is unworthy of him.”

Gon-chan’s hand, reaching for her cup of tea, froze in midair. She had not been ready for the conversation to take this turn. “So they’re dating?”

“Over my dead body!” Kaju shot to her feet, chair and table clattering. Noticing the attention that garnered, she sheepishly sat back down. “I’m not at all against my Oniisama finding the perfect partner. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“So you’re cool if he dates one of the other lit girls?”

Kaju readily nodded. “I would celebrate it, even. Yakishio-san is bright and beautiful. Komari-san is wise and frugal. Yanami-san has an excellent appetite.”

Gon-chan savored the tea’s aroma for a moment, then tilted her head. “So what’s the big deal, hm?”

“The ‘deal,’ Gon-chan, is…” Kaju gripped her cup tight, “she’s a scab.”

A “scab.” Not the sort of word most people used in daily conversation, unless labor laws happened to be the topic.

Gon-chan sipped. It did wonders for her composure. “She’s stealing your job, is she?”

Kaju nodded exactly once. “My Oniisama doesn’t need more than one Kaju.”

“That a fact?”

“Verifiably.” Kaju cleared her throat. “You wouldn’t buy more than one bed, would you? By that same logic, my presence precludes her own.”

“Nuku-chan, you’ve got the little sister position on lockdown. She’s just his kouhai. What’s got you so threatened?”

Kaju pouted. “You’re not seeing the bigger picture. If she’s on the table, then—”

“Here comes the plane!” The tall one put a scoop of milk pudding into the small one’s mouth. Anything to get them off this topic. “Ain’t that yummy?”

“It is! I wonder what sort of milk they use.”

“Make some for your brother, hm?”

“I will. It’ll make for a good challenge. I’m gonna go buy some of that for myself.”

Gon-chan sighed in relief as Kaju scurried over to the register. If opposites attracted, what did that mean for equals? Still, she had a feeling they could probably get to be good friends, if only they could get over their…well, everything but their differences.

She took a deep whiff of her second cup of tea, wishing the best for the poor stranger.

Afterword

Afterword

NUKUMIZU-KUN AND THE GANG ARE FINALLY second-years. With a new, adorable addition added to the mix, it’s anybody’s guess what shenanigans await!

I once again find myself begging the forgiveness of Imigimuru-sensei and my editor, Iwaasa. I continue to make trouble for them. Still ongoing, I’m afraid. How much easier things could have been had I finished my draft earlier… Hindsight.

Anyway, the anime should be airing around the time this volume comes out in Japan, and what an incredible work it is. Genuinely, words cannot do justice to the emotions I feel seeing the stories I wrote on a used, twenty-thousand-yen laptop come to life for all the world to see. It’s all thanks to my loyal readers and the efforts of some of the best talent I’ve ever had the pleasure to work with.

Still using that same laptop, for the record. Made in Japan, baby.

I actually attended the early development meetings, and I’ve gotta say, it was awfully surreal being some random amateur in a room of professionals. I really do wonder just how annoying my presence must have been, but everybody was receptive, and it was clear to me that they have the utmost respect for the material they’re adapting. And wouldn’t you know it, they made something incredible despite having to babysit the author. I’m thankful beyond words.

So I actually have a confession to make. It begins with a dream I had, back before I won that contest all those years ago. At the time, a rom-com manga I was obsessed with happened to get an anime adaptation. A great one. And I thought to myself, “Wow, I’d love to work with these guys on my own adaptation.”

And those very people are now working on the Losing Heroines anime. Yes, really. I don’t know how, but it happened. My current working theory is I killed a demon king or something in my past life. All my friends agree. “Amamori would,” they say.

In any case, that’s where all my good karma went. I’ll probably be a water flea in my next life, and that’s okay.

Even once the anime is over, there’s still more to come! BDs, events, et cetera. We’re only just getting started! Man, that feels good to say.

About the Author

About the Author

Takibi Amamori

With the power of your love and support, the losers enter into their second year! Thank you!