Chapter 2: Heliotrope (Seeking the Sun’s Sparkle)

Chapter 2:
Heliotrope
(Seeking the Sun’s Sparkle)

A S SOON AS I GOT HOME, I went straight to my room, collapsed onto my bed, and slammed my face into my pillow. I remembered taking Shimamura home, but everything after that was a blur of colors, like a sunset. Frankly, it was a miracle I made it home safely at all.

All day, my face had burned white-hot, to the point that I questioned whether maybe summer had come early this year. My ears itched, too. Then the pillow dust slowly settled around my head, and the color filtering in through the window made me realize that the sun was , in fact, setting. Knowing me, my face was probably every bit as red as that sky right now.

Every time the memory flashed through my head, I writhed thinking about all the cringey things I did and said, kicking my feet and slamming my face repeatedly against the bed. Once I got it all out of my system, I raised my head and contemplated getting up. My back was still twisted around awkwardly, so I lowered my head once more. Guess I’ll give it another five minutes.

A low whine escaped my lips. My parents generally never offered me so much as a passing glance, but if they saw the way I was acting right now, maybe they’d actually pay attention for a change.

“God, I acted like such a freak…”

At least things had worked out in my favor.

Last month, I was sure God wasn’t real, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe he was simply a giant bully who liked to stress me out. And now that I’d officially made plans with Shimamura, I had even more to worry about.

“Chocolate,” I muttered aloud, naming the snack that was surely going to melt my brain into fondue. The faint smell of fabric softener descended as I pulled my blanket over my head.

This would be my first time ever giving anyone a Valentine’s gift, as well as my first time receiving one. Well, unless you counted the chocolate my parents gave me when I was a kid. Personally, I chose not to. It wasn’t like it mattered either way. It didn’t change the fact that this was the first time I actually wanted a Valentine’s gift.

Valentine’s Day was more than a week away, and yet… Well, actually, considering all the planning ahead of me, maybe I had less time than I thought. Was I going to make this chocolate myself? No, that’d be too intense…or would it? No, yeah, definitely. How could I make chocolate without any prior experience in the kitchen? Was that something I could get good at with a little research and practice? Even then, it would still be too intense for a casual gift.

I should do what I did for Christmas and buy her something she’ll like. Yeah, that’d be good… Yeah.

But then again…

This was my first—and quite possibly last—experience with Valentine’s Day chocolate, and I wanted to make the most of it. Unfortunately, I had no surefire way of accomplishing that. The second I attempted to figure out the “right” move, my head started to ache. At the rate I was going, I really wasn’t sure that I was going to survive the next ten days. By the time the big day rolls around, I’ll be an empty husk.

“Homemade…homemade… First things first, I’ll have to find out what she likes.”

I doubted that anyone but Shimamura herself would know the answer, so I’d have to ask her directly. But if I was too gung-ho about it, then I’d come off as overeager, so I’d have to strike some sort of balance. That was the tricky part, as I’d proved earlier today with my cringey behavior. The mere memory made my nose burn.

Relax. It’s no big deal, I lied to myself in order to calm down. It’s just a platonic…you know…friendly gift exchange or whatever.

Which meant that—barring some kind of weird baking competition—a handmade gift would be wayyyy too much.

Of course, if she had made me something, I would’ve absolutely loved that. I would’ve killed for that. If I could have wished on a shooting star for anything , it would’ve been that.

I wanted to be just as special to Shimamura as she was to me; I wanted to have a unique connection no one else could replicate. But I didn’t know how to achieve that, and if I asked her for it flat-out, then it would lose all meaning. I needed Shimamura to be a willing, enthusiastic participant…and thus, I would need to nonchalantly guide her in that direction.

Ha, good one . After all the humiliation I’d caused myself, I knew full well that there was nothing “nonchalant” about me. I’d tried dozens of times to “casually” steer the conversation, only to end up in a panic—I just wasn’t capable of keeping my cool. Instead, I shook like a leaf until my desired topic shot out of my mouth at 100 miles per hour.

God, I’m pathetic. At this stage, it was a little too late to curse my idiocy…but still, sometimes I really hated my own guts.

I shook my head and rolled onto my side, my motions kicking up dust and detritus.

What I really wanted was far, far softer than chocolate—so soft, it kept slipping through my fingers. Valentine’s Day was merely a conduit through which I could just barely graze it.

~Wednesday, February 5~

All through class, I slipped in and out of countless daydreams about Shimamura and chocolate. Maybe I’m a little obsessed. Yeah, just a little. To be fair, these classes were frequently boring. Since the seating arrangement prevented me from looking at Shimamura, the best I could do was use my imagination to while away my free time—and sometimes my non-free time.

In a blink, school was over for the day, and the rapid passage of time made my blood run cold. What if all ten days went by as fast as this one? In the past, I would’ve loved nothing more than to speed through my dull everyday life on fast-forward, but now I felt a bit differently. For the first time in my life, I had gained something truly important…and, as a result, I was constantly stressed out.

As I tidied up my desk drawer’s contents, I glanced backward to see a summery, sunburnt Hino and a very sleepy-looking Nagafuji at Shimamura’s desk. After a brief farewell, the two headed out of the classroom. Would Shimamura give them chocolate, too? Knowing her, she’d gladly return the favor for any gift she received, but she would never initiate gift-giving of her own accord.

Then, for some reason, I thought about the little alien girl. I hadn’t really seen her around Shimamura much lately…at least, not that I could remember. Who was she, anyway? What was she?

On top of that, it was possible that Shimamura had made similar plans to exchange chocolates with other friends I’d never met. I only knew one small side of her, after all—no, even less than that. She was notoriously hard to read. She wasn’t conflict-averse; she just sincerely didn’t care about a lot of things. If I tried to hold on to her, I’d slide right off, like water off a duck’s back.

Not that I especially cared if Shimamura wanted to exchange chocolates with other girls. Or rather, it wasn’t any of my business, so did I really have any say in the matter? No, I didn’t. I knew that. Yet…I realized that if I witnessed it happening right in front of me, I probably couldn’t just shrug it off.

I felt myself get dizzy, so I paused to take a deep breath. I was freaking myself out over nothing, and if a single thought could send me into a panic attack, then maybe my condition was more serious than I thought. Maybe now I understood what it felt like to procrastinate on treating an illness until it was too late.

Deep down, under all my denial and bravado, it would really crush me to witness Shimamura give chocolates to someone else. Knowing me, I might even cry. In other words, I didn’t want her to.

The more honest I was with myself, the more it felt like I was hauling all my worst traits up to the surface. I needed to scoop them out of the water, or else no one would want to be around me anymore. I could only pray that I was keeping my water clean enough. If possible, I wanted to be the one to help purify Shimamura’s water, too.

I glanced back over my shoulder, and this time, Shimamura’s desk was completely empty. Evidently, she’d already gone home for the day. Oh no. I stuffed the rest of my books into my bag hastily.

Sometimes, I really wished she would stop by my desk before she headed out, but she never did. It was kind of frustrating.

Bookbag in hand, I hurried into the hall and looked around for Shimamura, but couldn’t see her. I started running. Then, belatedly, my legs registered the chilly hallway air. Shimamura apparently took priority over my five senses.

Finally, at the bottom of the staircase, I spotted her. She was hunched over, probably from the cold. Her sleeves were tugged down over her fingers, exposing her shoulders. As I approached, she must’ve heard my footsteps, because she turned in my direction.

“Oh, hey, Adachi.” Her eyes asked, “What’s up?”

Slowly, carefully, consciously, I opened my mouth to speak. Thinking about it, this was quite possibly the first time I’d spoken all day.

“I was wondering what your favorite kind of chocolate is.”

There we go. That sounded pretty casual. Yeah, not bad.

I never used to police my own behavior like this, but perhaps that was proof of just how bizarre I was acting lately. My lips were still a little stiff, but overall my question was an improvement.

“My favorite ? Hmmm…I don’t really eat it that often, but let’s see…”

She gazed down to the end of the hall as she ruminated on my question. Fortunately, she didn’t seem uncomfortable answering. That’s a relief.

“No, let’s not go there,” she muttered to herself under her breath, but I didn’t know what she was talking about. Then she looked back at me. “Honestly, I’ll eat anything sweet.”

“Right.”

As far as I knew, most chocolate was sweet. Should I press for more details, or just accept that she’s easy to please?

“I think I like milk chocolate the best, since the flavor’s not too overpowering,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

“Gotcha.”

In my mind’s eye, I pictured milk chocolate—its color reminiscent of Shimamura’s soft brown hair.

It felt as if this was the first time on record that she’d ever admitted to liking something…and, for some reason, I found it really touching.

“Was that all you wanted?” she asked, after a long moment of awkward silence.

“Yeah.”

More silence. All around us, other students walked past on their way out of the building.

“Okay.”

“Cool.”

“All right then, time to head home!” she announced, her tone decidedly “let’s get this show on the road.” She was probably eager to get out of the cold, and I didn’t blame her.

I walked with her to the school gates, where we peaceably went our separate ways. When I reached the street corner, I realized I was still on foot, so I ran back to school to get my bike.

***

It stuck out like a sore thumb, yet I couldn’t bring myself to hide it away.

The boomerang, I mean.

Late that night, I grabbed it off the shelf where it served as a decoration. To be clear, I didn’t want to let my Christmas gift from Shimamura collect dust up there, but at the same time, I wasn’t about to actually play with it. Did she really expect me to go outside and throw it around for fun? I didn’t believe—didn’t want to believe—that she’d misjudged me quite that hard. I agonized over the boomerang for a moment, then lazily flung it. It soared directly into my closet, where it hit the wall and fell to the floor with a soft thump .

Bleh .

Right as I bent down to retrieve it, however, I caught sight of the TV screen out of the corner of my eye and nearly jumped out of my skin.

A woman with heavy makeup, referred to as “Shaman Taoka,” was dancing in time to music. By “dancing,” I mean she swung her hair in a circle like she was in a kabuki lion dance. Her movements were so violent, I half-expected her hair to whip right out of the screen. Other actors stood on the sidelines, waiting for their entrance, but this woman kept them all at bay. It was impressive the way she seemed to command their attention.

Once her dance finished, Shaman So-and-So stood there, shoulders heaving as she gasped for breath. You’d think that the camera would’ve cut away from that part. Meanwhile, I was still frozen mid-stoop, trying to figure out what the hell this TV show was supposed to be.

I soon discovered that it was some sort of horoscope show. Romantic horoscopes, specifically. Not sure what that kabuki dance had to do with anything, but okay. Still, the word “romantic” made my ears perk up a bit. Not that my relationship with Shimamura is romantic or anything. Because it isn’t.

Yet…I still wanted to watch the show.

Judging from the “Tomorrow’s Horoscope” section, this show aired every day of the week. The show went down the list of astrological signs, starting with Capricorn, then Aquarius, then Pisces, and so on. Even as I rolled my eyes and wondered how much they got paid to write this rubbish, I waited patiently for my star sign to come up.

Meanwhile, the Shaman was dripping with sweat to the point that it completely ruined her heavy makeup. Don’t quit your day job.

“Next up, Libra! Your love life is headed into a stormy patch, so don’t forget to monitor your surroundings!”

“What…?”

As a Libra, this was a horoscope I wasn’t exactly excited to receive. I always considered my “love life” dead in the water, but…I mean…if it was alive and kicking, then I certainly didn’t want it to get stormy. Which one of us would the waves hit? Me or Shimamura?

And another thing: “monitor my surroundings”? The word “monitor” made it all sound so creepy. What do you think I am, a stalker? Because I’m not. Far from it.

Of course, I hadn’t expected the horoscope to be accurate in the first place, so there was no sense in me worrying about it.

After the show read through all the star signs, they launched into their advertising segment. “Our Valentine’s promotion is ongoing! During the promotion, listen for the clue at the end of each episode. Collect them all for a very special prize! Today’s clue is ‘D’!”

“D.” Got it. Cool. But it wasn’t quite the end of the episode yet, so it felt as though they’d jumped the gun on that announcement. Whatever .

After that, for some reason, they showed compatibility charts between each of the star signs. According to the charts, Libra was “strongly compatible” with Gemini and Aquarius, but most compatible with Aries (of the opposite sex, specifically; Aries of the same sex were the “most incompatible,” apparently). Of course, I wasn’t sure how they decided all this, so I certainly wasn’t about to buy into it.

And yet…

When’s Shimamura’s birthday?

Not that I planned to take this TV show as gospel, but it did make me a little curious.

Gemini or Aquarius. Gemini or Aquarius. Worst-case scenario, anything but Aries, I prayed silently, over and over, even though I knew (based on the results of the seating-arrangement shuffle) that my prayers were worthless.

After the show finished, I regained my composure and shook my head at my own idiocy.

As if this rubbish would actually be accurate.

~Thursday, February 6~

“Uhh…Adachi?”

Shimamura looked up at me as I stood next to her desk, but I couldn’t take it anymore.

“It’s nothing.”

With that, I hastily returned to my seat. Then the teacher walked in. Whew. Made it by the skin of my teeth.

Later, at lunch…

“Adachi?”

Once again, I was right next to Shimamura, gazing at her. I was so out of it, however, I couldn’t even taste my sandwich. I hadn’t noticed anything “stormy” thus far…except maybe the dubious look Shimamura was fixing me with.

“Did you want something?” she prompted, gesturing at her sandwich and drink. Wrapped around her wrist was a blue friendship bracelet, which caught my attention, since she didn’t generally wear a lot of accessories. Anyway, I wasn’t trying to give her a puppy-dog look or anything, but evidently she misread me.

“No, I’m okay,” I mumbled, holding up my sandwich. Then I decided to ask her the question I’d promised myself I would pose today at lunchtime. Not that I bought into that horoscope nonsense, but… “Shimamura, what’s your sign?”

Belatedly, I realized that it would’ve been more natural to just ask her birthday. Then it hit me—on the off-chance Shimamura watched the same TV show, she might mistakenly think…

Well, it wouldn’t exactly be a mistake, would it? Wait, no! Yes, it would!

Meanwhile, ignorant of my inner turmoil, Shimamura tilted her head and mused to herself. “My sign…? I’m not sure which one I am, to be honest. I was born in April, though. April 10.”

I felt all the joy melt out of my body. Don’t get me wrong, I was excited to learn a new fact about her, but…if she was born on April 10, then she was an Aries. And an Aries had the worst possible compatibility with a same-sex Libra.

“Adachi? Helloooo?”

“For the record, I’m a Taurus!” Hino announced unprompted, popping up out of nowhere right next to Shimamura.

“Whoa!” Shimamura recoiled reflexively, her eyes wide in shock.

Behind Hino stood Nagafuji, swaying ever-so-casually from side to side with a look on her face that said she was dying for someone to ask her what her sign was.

Once Shimamura recovered from the surprise, she swiftly picked up on this body language. “What about you, Nagafuji-chan?”

“What you see is what you get! Virgo, the virgin!” she declared proudly.

“I feel like we should switch. You’re way more of a cow than I am,” Hino remarked, reaching out to prod Nagafuji’s ample udders. Nagafuji naturally swatted her hand away, as per usual.

I seemed to recall Taurus and Virgo having strong compatibility. Maybe the chart was accurate after all. Wait, no! That would mean that Shimamura and I are completely incompatible! No, no, no! That can’t be right! We wouldn’t be such good friends!

“Why did you ask about my sign, anyway?” Shimamura asked me. “Are you into astrology or something?”

“Huh? Oh…uhhhh…”

As I struggled to think of a response, however, assistance arrived from the most unlikely of places.

“Oh, I get it. If your star signs are compatible, it improves the success rate for support magic,” Nagafuji volunteered out of nowhere.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Hino murmured, baffled.

Fortunately, that distracted Shimamura long enough for me to evade her question…which meant that, whether she realized it or not, Nagafuji had ultimately helped me. For that, I was sincerely grateful.

I continued to monitor—er, observe —the situation until the end of the school day, but Shimamura and I were both the same as usual. The way we were headed, I didn’t see any stormy waves on the horizon whatsoever. The seas were peaceful.

Just as I thought, horoscopes were nothing more than suggestions. It wasn’t even clear who’d originally come up with this rubbish, and I was perfectly content to take it all with a grain of salt. That said, I didn’t want to write astrology off completely. I could simply choose to believe the predictions I liked and safely ignore all the rest.

In the end, Nagafuji was right. Horoscopes were a form of support magic, helping you to look on the bright side.

***

I couldn’t choose chocolates for Shimamura without a thorough understanding of what she’d be eating. So, once I got home, I changed into my street clothes and headed to the grocery store. I admittedly felt a little hesitant to enter, probably because I didn’t generally have the opportunity to go there. Did normal families usually take their kids to look at the candy aisle? If so, I certainly hadn’t experienced that myself. I couldn’t even remember what I used to snack on. All I remembered was a lot of cold, crisp water.

I took my wallet out to check the contents. Once I made sure I was equipped with enough money, I headed for the chocolate section. Fortunately, despite this particular store’s formidable size, I didn’t have to search long; there was a large Valentine’s Day display right within my line of sight.

On the same shelf, they’d also stocked some pale-pastel rice puffs for Girls’ Day on March 3. Sadly, I wasn’t confident that this was an effective sales tactic.

Since Shimamura had specified milk chocolate, I went through and picked out all the milk-chocolate varieties available. There was some white chocolate, too, but I wasn’t sure she would like it. After an internal debate, I decided to email her to ask. Restless, I stood there, praying to God that Shimamura would answer me quickly so I wouldn’t be trapped here forever. Mercifully, she did.

Her answer: “White chocolate’s pretty good.”

Evidently, she liked it. “But, for some reason, she doesn’t like to say that she likes things.”

It almost felt as if she didn’t want other people…including me…to learn more about her. Disheartened, I let out a sigh. Guess I’ll throw in the white chocolate, too. Now I was up to a sizeable number of items in my cart. I didn’t mind shelling out the money to buy all this, but…could I really eat all of it? All of it? On my own? Diabetes, here I come.

I wrestled with myself for a while longer, until eventually I decided to keep everything. From there, I took my stack of snacks and headed for the register. Just then, I crossed paths with a tall girl from another school. Honestly, I was impressed that she had the nerve to go to the grocery store in her uniform. Plus, she was walking around with a big grin on her face. I couldn’t help but stare after her.

There but for the grace of God go I. Did I ever grin like that during class? No, probably not. I’m probably fine, I told myself, rubbing my cheek. But I wasn’t entirely convinced.

If I’d ever started giggling to myself in class, people would’ve thought I was a psycho. Actually, no—I’d literally be a psycho. But if Shimamura ever started giggling in class, I’d just wonder what had put her in such a good mood.

Uh, brain? This is me we’re talking about, not Shimamura… Right. Anyway. Let’s just keep that in mind.

I gave myself a light slap on the cheek, then continued to the checkout. I hadn’t given it much thought when I was carrying everything in my cart, but once I paid for my items and picked up my grocery bag, I realized exactly how heavy they all were. Staring down at my chocolate haul, I scratched my cheek.

I’m really not sure I can eat this whole mountain of chocolate.

What if I gave the entire bag to Shimamura? No, no, no. She wouldn’t want that!

The mere thought of her rejection was enough to crush my spirit. I wanted her to be happy. I wanted her to think of me as special.

But while my aspirations were as lofty as a mountain peak, miles upon miles of flat, empty desert surrounded me.

***

I swear, I wasn’t planning this on purpose. But when I checked my clock, I realized it was time for that horoscope show again. So, I figured I’d hate-watch it and tear them a new one for how inaccurate today’s horoscope had been.

I’d left the TV on the same channel. When I powered it on, sure enough, the first thing I saw was the Shaman’s long hair flying in all directions. I guess we’re starting with that again.

“Just so you know, today’s horoscope couldn’t have been more wrong,” I complained aloud, but naturally, the Shaman couldn’t hear me. Come to think of it, she’d never said a word during the last episode—maybe she was just the opening act.

Once her Bon Festival-esque “performance” ended, it was time for the main show. Since I didn’t have anything better to do, I decided I’d once again watch it all the way to the end.

For Aries, Shimamura’s sign, tomorrow’s horoscope was, “Be true to yourself, and pursue your desires.” Libra’s horoscope, however, was written in big bubble letters for some reason. It read, “Change up your hairstyle for a day! Reinvent yourself, and catch that special someone’s eye!”

“Change my hairstyle…? How?”

I grabbed a chunk of my hair and stared at it. Normally, I just let it all hang down without doing anything particularly special. If I changed my style and reinvented myself for a day, would Shimamura notice? Idly, I rubbed my toes together. It wasn’t that I really bought into this horoscope nonsense, obviously.

This time, the clue was “A.” Last time was “D.” Not exactly complicated enough to need to write it down. The show hadn’t revealed what exactly the “special prize” was, but given the blatant advertising throughout the show, I deduced that it would most likely be leftover stock of something they couldn’t sell. A friendship bracelet, or a necklace, or something. Did anyone out there still pay money for this snake-oil? Somehow I doubted it.

Yet I understood how it felt to cling to any ray of hope…no matter how small. Desperation tinged my feelings for Shimamura; deep down, I was terrified that, barring some sort of divine intervention, I might never bridge the gap between us. Perhaps I was precisely the sort of sucker who would fall for this nonsense.

I clapped myself lightly on the cheek and sat up a little straighter. I’d better keep my wits about me.

~Friday, February 7~

Surely this is drastic enough to get her to notice. I nodded to myself as I admired my painstaking handiwork in the mirror. I’d tried all sorts of hair clips, ribbons, and other accessories, but they all looked either way too stupid or way too ridiculous. Thus, after a series of attempts at slight curls, changing my part, and other minor adjustments, I eventually settled on a plain ponytail. I tied it up using a scrunchie I found lying around—I couldn’t remember when or where I bought it, but it certainly came in handy—then shifted its position to my liking. Once I was done, I gazed at myself in the mirror from every angle.

Honestly, I’d rather see Shimamura in a new hairstyle instead. The thought made me blush, and I hastily left the bathroom. Time to go to school.

Truth be told, I was a little embarrassed to leave my house like this. It felt as if this drastic hairstyle change announced to the world, “HEY EVERYONE, LOOK AT ME! I’M TRYING TO BE DIFFERENT NOW!” Or was I just being paranoid? I’d need to think of what to tell Shimamura in the event that she asked me about it. After all, I was well aware of just how weird I’d acted lately.

As I steered my bike along, I racked my brain, trying to think of a plausible explanation. Maybe I could say I just felt like changing my hair? I seemed to recall that that was Shimamura’s reasoning for bleaching her hair, so maybe she’d relate to it. Question was, could I get the words out without stammering? That was something I continually struggled with lately.

Once I arrived at my desk, I sat down and put my chin in my hands. My ponytail swayed with every tiny movement, and it drove me nuts. Plus, with all my hair tied behind my head, my ears were now extra-sensitive to the cold air. This, too, put me on edge.

Seriously, this had better be worth it, I thought as I eyed the classroom door, waiting for Shimamura to walk in.

Unfortunately, she didn’t arrive until right before the bell rang, and she went straight to her seat without so much as a single glance in my direction. Given that I sat between her and the blackboard, I was sure she’d notice my ponytail eventually. Seeing as we couldn’t exactly have a conversation in the middle of class, however, I’d need to wait patiently until lunchtime to find out what she thought of it.

Somehow, this was both reassuring and frustrating at the same time.

***

Normally, I spent my break periods just sitting at my desk and waiting for the break to end. Today, though, I used my free time to look at photos of chocolate online. I was so obsessed, I was pretty sure I’d dreamed of chocolate last night. At this point, my whole brain was one creamy brown blob.

I’d made the executive decision to bring my mountain of chocolate to school with me to eat for lunch for the next few days. I’d specifically bought it so I could learn what it tasted like, which meant I needed to eat all the chocolate myself. Fortunately, I wasn’t the sort of person who got bored of eating the same thing over and over, so I was confident I could handle it.

Once I’d tasted all this chocolate, I would know exactly what to give Shimamura. That was the most I could hope to accomplish within the week I had left. I’d halfway given up on actually impressing her with my gift; if anything, I’d consider myself fortunate if I managed to get her a gift at all. I mean, that simple act was still pretty special in and of itself.

I couldn’t deny that part of me wanted Shimamura to treat me differently than everyone else. At the same time, though, I knew that I couldn’t keep demanding more and more of her, or she’d get sick of me. If I wanted this friendship to be a two-way street, then I needed to act like it. As for how I would go about doing that, my mind found its way back to the idea of homemade chocolates.

When it came to expressing our feelings, we humans really only had two options: create something or buy something. Spend effort or spend money. In my case, I had the cash to spare, since I hadn’t touched my earnings from my part-time job. But if I gave Shimamura expensive name-brand chocolates, there was a chance it might make her uncomfortable.

Purely out of curiosity, or so I told myself, I did an internet search for handmade chocolates next. Naturally, there were about a million different results—all sorts of recipe sites and how-to guides. ’Tis the season, I guess. I tapped around a fair few of them, and since (obviously) chocolate didn’t require any knifework, I started to think maybe it wouldn’t be that hard to make. With a little practice, maybe even I could create something halfway respectable…appearance-wise, anyway. Whether it would actually be edible was an entirely different story.

Knowing Shimamura, however, she’d probably prefer mass-produced grocery-store chocolate to the questionable, misshapen lumps I could create on my own. Granted, that would be true of just about anybody…unless the lumps came from someone special, of course. Ugh, then there’s no point!

As I reached up to clutch my head in frustration, a sudden voice in my ear made me reflexively recoil.

“Playing some vidya or something?”

It was Nagafuji, crouching so that she could read my phone screen over my shoulder, squinting and blinking. I thought that her glasses were supposed to help her see better, but maybe not. Startled, I slid down in my seat until my butt was halfway off the chair.

How would she react, seeing photos of chocolate on my screen? Why had she even come to my desk? I didn’t think we were that close of friends…or were we?

She straightened up. “Hmmm,” she murmured to herself, tilting her head in contemplation. This only confused me more. I sat there and waited for her to say something. Finally she asked, “Do people not say ‘vidya’ anymore?”

How the hell should I know?

“Well…I don’t hear it much these days,” I answered.

“Yeah, me neither.”

She hung her head in…guilt? I’ll never understand her for as long as I live. My only option was to summon her babysitter to come get her. “Where’s Hino?”

“Asleep.”

I turned my gaze in the direction Nagafuji indicated. Sure enough, Hino was collapsed forward, her cheek pressed against her desk, her arms dangling off its sides, sound asleep for all the world to see. It was very…unique , to say the least. But, hey, she seemed to be making the most of her limited free time.

Next, I glanced over my shoulder to see what Shimamura was up to. Like me, she stared down at her phone screen. Perhaps she was planning for Valentine’s Day, too… Maybe not to the same obsessive extent that I was, but still.

Then again, knowing her, she’d probably wait until the fourteenth, go buy chocolate from whatever store, then hand it over with a shrug. End of story.

Although part of me cautioned myself not to get my hopes up for anything special, another part of me was keen to point out that Shimamura had, in fact, chosen my Christmas present in advance…and I wanted to believe that lightning would strike twice. But it wasn’t every day that Shimamura went out of her way for me, and it was entirely possible that the Christmas gift was the last present I’d ever get from her. The more time I spent with her, the more I understood just how grand these gestures were. Coming from her, anyway.

That said, I really didn’t understand why she ever thought to give me a boomerang.

Still squinting, Nagafuji glanced over in Shimamura’s direction, then back at me. She clapped me on the shoulder. “Good luck.” With that, she returned to her desk.

There wasn’t much palpable sincerity in her tone. For that matter, I wasn’t even sure what this “good luck” was for , exactly, since I strongly doubted that Nagafuji knew about my Valentine’s Day plans. Still…if I was honest with myself, I needed all the luck I could get. The second I let my guard down, time would fly by on fast-forward, and I’d miss my chance to have a special day with Shimamura.

In a blink, I’d gone from having ten days left to having just seven…and I suspected that it was Shimamura stealing all my time away.

***

Back at home, I zoned out for a while. Every time I thought back to lunchtime, the next thing I knew, my lips would smile of their own accord. Then I’d cover my mouth with both hands as I took deep breaths and tried not to scream.

Here in the darkness, my body was full of so much warmth and light.

Shimamura had commented on my hair earlier that day at lunch. Of course, it was a small part of a longer conversation, but it was the only part I remembered. First, she touched my ponytail and said, “This is cute.” Then she added, “But, then again, your hair’s always cute.” After that, the rest was a blur.

It wasn’t the first time she’d complimented me on my appearance, but this time it felt more real. The cheongsam was only a dress, but my hair was an inescapable part of who I was. In other words, she called me cute. “Always cute .” Who wouldn’t be over the moon about that?

Maybe those horoscopes weren’t all that bad. I was starting to think more highly of this Shaman So-and-So. Not that she really had anything to do with this, probably.

It was time for the horoscope show.

Aries’ horoscope was, “Tomorrow they’ll play you like a fiddle—so make some sweet music!”

Libra’s horoscope was, “Take a day to relax and appreciate how far you’ve come.”

Neither seemed relevant to romance in any way, but then again, everybody needed a quiet day now and then. If each horoscope was something crazy every day, there was no way anyone would believe a word they said.

Today’s clue was “N.”

“I’m back in action, baby!” the Shaman shouted right before the episode ended.

Maybe all that dancing had helped her get into her groove.

~Saturday, February 8~

On Saturdays, I usually worked the lunch shift at the Chinese restaurant, and today was no exception. Not that I minded that, but I wasn’t crazy about wearing a dress with a slit up the side in the middle of winter. It made me look like some kind of bimbo who prioritized flaunting her legs over more sensible clothing options. Personally, I was tempted to take a needle and thread to the dress and sew the stupid slit right up. Why was I the only person forced to wear that gaudy thing? The restaurant didn’t even pay me extra for it.

As I carried dirty plates from the dining area to the kitchen, I questioned what I was doing with my life. Obviously, it couldn’t hurt to have an income, but…what was I planning to do with it? I had nothing to spend it on. That was better than wasting it, I supposed, but there was no point in earning this money if I couldn’t put it to use.

Ultimately, however, I’d signed up for this job out of a need to occupy my time with something productive, and I couldn’t find it in me to quit.

The Shimamura family hadn’t been back since their first visit. That was both a relief and a disappointment. Internally I was plagued by two warring attitudes: the part of me that didn’t want to humiliate myself in front of Shimamura, and the part of me that didn’t mind sharing this secret with her. I knew I couldn’t have it both ways, and yet I was still so greedy. Reflexively, I tugged my skirt hem down.

Did this cheongsam help draw in customers?

As I ran around the busy dining hall during the height of the lunch rush, I tried my best not to think about that too deeply. After all, if the answer was yes, I would feel obligated to keep wearing the dress.

Once the restaurant closed to prep for dinner, I sat down at the nearest table and stared blankly into space. All that remained was to do some light cleaning, and then I could change out of this stupid dress and go home. Once again, this came as both a relief and a disappointment. Deep down, I wasn’t eager to go back to that house and be around my family.

How did Shimamura spend her weekends? The last time I’d asked her about it, her response was vague. “Sleeping, usually. Or dealing with my kid sister. Stuff like that.” Which meant she was probably spending today just sitting around, bored.

Maybe I could go see her after work. I could sit between her legs and watch TV with her in her room, like last time.

Looking back, it was hard to believe that I was ever brave enough to get that close to Shimamura. I definitely couldn’t manage it now—I’d end up freaking out and/or scrambling away.

Speaking of more recent “close encounters,” there was that time I’d slipped and stumbled into her chest. What a waste of an opportunity. To this day, I sorely regretted my decision to back away from her so quickly. I’d also regretted it at the cake shop, of course, but that feeling only grew more pronounced over time.

I’d practically buried my nose in her chest…my eyes, too…and my forehead. Basically, my entire face.

As I thought back over the memory, I felt my whole head warm up like a hot air balloon, so I flailed my legs under the table where no one could see.

~Sunday, February 9~

When I walked into my kitchen, my intention was simply to give this a fair shake. As on weekdays, my parents were rarely home on weekends, so I didn’t have to worry about any prying eyes. That was something I deeply appreciated. I couldn’t stand the thought of them judging me, be it silently or right to my face.

This was my first time using the kitchen for anything other than filling a glass of water, and certainly my first time handling cookware. My plan: to try to make some chocolates. I was inclined to believe that it was a worthwhile use of my Sunday. Or maybe I was just a tiny bit influenced by my horoscope, which said, “Libras, you need to hurry up and make some chocolates for you-know-who! Just do it!”

Oh, and for the record, the clue was “C.”

Is it still a “horoscope” if it’s just some lady telling you what to do…?

I hadn’t even started making the chocolates yet, and already I was beginning to have second thoughts.

According to the internet, the chocolate-making process was fairly simple. First you broke chocolate into little pieces, then you melted those pieces, and then you reshaped them using a mold. Pretty foolproof, right? Wrong. Problem was, it was sort of like constructing the foundation of a house; the final steps were the most critical. That was the part I had absolutely zero confidence in.

Quietly I cursed my own laziness. Anytime there wasn’t food to eat, I simply chose not to eat. Plus, I never really paid attention in Home Ec. All in all, I was a total cooking noob. Still, I wanted to experiment and play around with a few ideas; after all, this was possibly my only chance to do so.

As I worked, I kept my phone handy so I could refer back to the recipe. I put the chocolate onto the cutting board and chopped it up. Then I put it in a bowl and melted it over a pot of boiling water. So far, these steps were identical to the Valentine’s Day scenes in all the shoujo manga I’d ever read. In manga, the girl usually sucked at baking. However, she was inevitably head over heels for some guy, so despite all her frustration she gave it her best effort nonetheless, and the end result was a finished batch of (ugly-looking) chocolates. At least, that was how the story usually went as far as I remembered. As for me, well… No, I couldn’t relate. I wasn’t…you know…in love with Shimamura. Nope, not possible. So yeah, obviously, this was just…chocolate. Just chocolate, plain and simple.

Considering my lack of skill and experience, I needed to pay attention to making the chocolates, or else my end result would look like total garbage. Shaking the stray thoughts from my mind, I focused on keeping my clumsy hands moving.

Supposing—and, for the record, this was completely hypothetical, since I was nowhere near good enough to actually make it happen, but anyway—supposing I crafted professional-quality chocolates, would Shimamura get excited and say, “You’re amazing, Adachi!” and give me a hug? No, she wouldn’t. In what situation would she ever react that way? That version of Shimamura existed solely in my mind—and, frankly, I couldn’t let her stay there. Otherwise, the second I let my guard down, she’d tumble out of my mouth and expose me for the freak I truly was. I’d embarrassed myself quite frequently as of late, so I didn’t need her help. What I needed was to get my act together.

“That’s close enough, right?” I stared down at the bowl of chocolate as I stirred it with my rubber spatula, feeling validated by its color and fragrance. This was quite possibly the first time I’d ever (seemingly?) succeeded in creating something on my own. Now I just need to put it in the fridge for a while, right? I decided to Google it. The results: something about tempering.

Oh, right. I forgot I bought the powder for that. Pour it in, put in the rest of the chocolate, let it cool, stir it… Wait, what? Check the temperature? But I don’t have a thermometer… Meh, forget it. It’s not like anyone else is going to eat this anyway.

Once I finished stirring the chocolate, I poured it into the molds. Then, right before I popped it into the fridge, I grabbed my phone and snapped a couple pics just for fun. Not that this chocolate was my magnum opus or anything, but it was still my first time…cooking…all by myself. I decided to take one more photo, just to be safe. When I reviewed my shots, though, I noticed that the only real difference between them was the angle—no improvement in composition. These look kinda stupid, I thought, my enthusiasm cooling rapidly.

So, what would make the photos a little more entertaining? The answer, of course, was Shimamura. I decided I’d email them to her, followed by a brief message: “What do you think?”

I was actually kind of excited to see what her response would be, so I waited.

Ten minutes.

I sat, vibrating in my chair.

Twenty minutes.

I pressed my forehead against the table.

Thirty minutes.

No response. I took a deep breath and concluded that I should’ve expected this. If I was on the receiving end of those photos, I wouldn’t have known what to say, either.

Minutes ticked by as my overeager brain cooled off with the chocolate. As penance for my idiocy, I sat on the floor in the corner of the kitchen, my knees tucked up to my chin. In the middle of winter, you’d have thought that the linoleum would be freezing cold. But if it was, I couldn’t feel that through the heat flaring up periodically in my face.

I retrieved the fruits of my labor, which had long since hardened by this point.

“Uhhh…”

Thinking about it, all I’d really done was melt the chocolate down and reshape it. I hadn’t added any icing or decorations, nor did I have any on hand, so there was nothing more I could do to improve what I’d made. You could tell how much of an amateur I was based on my total lack of creativity. When it came to making chocolates, my brain had decided that chocolate was the only ingredient I needed.

I decided to try one. Yep, that’s chocolate, all right. Except it was somehow even less palatable than grocery-store chocolate. The end result, as predicted, was ugly, bad-tasting chocolates. The added ingredient of love had brought about no miraculous chemical reaction. It just didn’t work that way in real life.

Even if I practiced chocolate-making every day until the fourteenth, I had zero confidence that I could produce something better in time for Valentine’s. Nor did I want my parents watching. Maybe I could’ve talked myself into it if I had my own apartment, but alas.

In the end, I concluded that I’d be better off just giving Shimamura store-bought chocolates. Sure, maybe it was the “boring” option. But in my view, if I wanted a professional-quality gift that she was sure to actually enjoy, I’d have to set my “creative expression” aside and get it from a professional-quality manufacturer. Yes, it was a predictable choice, but when it came down to it, taste mattered. And my chocolates tasted terrible.

With that decided, my next move would be to find a highly-rated chocolatier and buy something. If I bought the gift online, I wasn’t confident that it would arrive at my house before the fourteenth, so my best bet would be to visit a brick-and-mortar store in the Nagoya area and buy it in person. I could take Shimamura with me. No, maybe I should go by myself. After all, she implied that she wanted her gift to be a surprise.

“Well, this was a bust.”

Today was my last day off before Valentine’s. Starting tomorrow, I’d be stuck at school all the way to Friday. Granted, I only needed to take one train to Nagoya, but getting there and back would use up a decent chunk of time. Plus, I’d need to factor in time to browse the stores and decide…which meant that, if I was smart, I would’ve gone today.

I should never have wasted my day off screwing around like this. Now what? Skip school to go to Nagoya? Wait… Maybe it’d be more casual to buy chocolate on the day of, and give it to Shimamura right then and there? Yes? No?

Unfortunately, despite all my contemplation, I hadn’t answered the question of what I’d do with the rest of my chocolate mountain.

Looks like I’ve got another week of choco-lunches ahead of me.

***

No horoscope could ever be 100 percent accurate. Otherwise, it’d be a prophecy. I, for one, didn’t have such lofty expectations. Rather, I was more interested in seeing just how much of the horoscope came true each day. So far, the results were about fifty-fifty. Granted, 50 percent accuracy was still pretty amazing for a horoscope, but it’d be far too hasty to conclude my study with such a small sample size. Thus, I decided to watch tonight’s episode, too.

However, Shaman So-and-So did not make an appearance. I’d assumed she was a regular part of the show, but maybe not. Instead, the opening three-ish minutes were filled by some other person giving a monologue, though it didn’t sound rehearsed. Did they film these episodes live or something?

I sat cross-legged in front of the TV, waiting to discover my horoscope for tomorrow. Shimamura’s was, “A surprise encounter will make your heart race!” and mine was, “You only live once, so tell them what’s really on your mind!”

Never mind the fact that the screen faded to black as if the TV was consuming the presenter—I was too distracted by my horoscope. Tell them what’s really on my mind… What’s really on my mind… As I imagined myself actually doing that, my heart raced like a dozen red roses had bloomed in perfect sync all around me. When I imagined Shimamura’s response, my face flushed beet red.

I scratched my knee through my pajamas, though I couldn’t tell which part of my body actually itched.

In the back of my mind, I felt my rational side—or perhaps the version of me that existed before Shimamura—silently judge me for my pathetic fantasies. After all, I was no longer anything like the person I used to be.

Well, maybe that wasn’t quite true. I was still bad at social interaction, still distant with my family—still as bland as ever. But when it came to Shimamura, another version of me rose to the surface and took over. She was restless, fidgety, and a total screw-up. It was painful to watch; still, I couldn’t bring myself to resent her for it. In a way, it was kind of precious.

Anyway, back to the horoscope show—the clue was “O.” Considering all the other letters, I tried to find a connection that tied them back to Valentine’s Day, but ultimately couldn’t think of anything. Maybe there was no deeper meaning behind them at all. The “special prize” was probably just some random junk anyway, so I decided to stop keeping track. Instead, I crawled under my blanket and agonized for hours and hours over telling Shimamura what was really on my mind.

Naturally, there was a lot I wanted to say. A lot.

Yet life was full of walls, thick and impenetrable, dividing us—and it would take more than courage to get my message across.

~Monday, February 10~

After I met Shimamura, my life changed for the better. That much was simple fact, or so I chose to believe. At the very least, I became a more optimistic person (maybe a little too optimistic, if we’re being honest) and my days felt a bit brighter.

Shimamura was my sunshine.

Ugh. Cringe.

Still, when it came to surviving on this sad earth, it was fairly important to have some small ray of hope to live for. At the very least, if Shimamura made me happy in some form or another, then what more could I really ask?

These were the thoughts that had kept me up last night.

Get too close to the sun, and it burns and blinds; no matter how hard you try, you can never truly reach it. Nevertheless, all the creatures who walk this earth still seek its warmth.

Personally, I was glad I finally found the light…and I wanted to take a moment to thank Shimamura for everything she’d done for me. That was what was “on my mind.”

No, really… It’s not a copout, I swear.

Sleep-deprived, I waited at the classroom door for Shimamura to arrive. Naturally, today of all days, she just had to be running late. Not that she was usually early, mind you—quite the opposite, really—but every minute she failed to arrive was another minute spent on the receiving end of countless weird looks from my classmates. Fortunately, all I had to do was meet their gaze, and they shrank back. For once, the “delinquent” label actually worked in my favor. Sadly, this didn’t stop certain people —namely, Hino and Nagafuji—from striking up a conversation.

“Whatcha doin’, Ada-chee?”

“What are you after, Chee-chee?”

Not sure I appreciate the accusation in your tone, Nagafuji . Nor was I crazy about these goofy, impromptu nicknames. Since I didn’t have an answer for the pair, all I could do was hang my head and hope like hell they let it go.

Unfortunately, they didn’t.

“Oh, I get it. Waiting for Shimamura?”

“Ah, yes, of course.”

My cheeks flushed pink as they (and by “they,” I mean probably just Hino) saw right through me. Is it really that obvious…? Yeah, probably. As I silently regretted all my cringey antics over the past few weeks, Hino and Nagafuji headed off to their desks.

Honestly, Shimamura was a saint for putting up with a total weirdo like me. Or maybe she simply didn’t care one way or the other. The thought made me sad.

As I waited and waited, Shimamura finally turned up right before the bell rang. She saw me standing by the door and stopped, tilting her head in confusion. “What’s up, Adachi?”

For once, she actually looked wide awake. No yawning, no glazed eyes. As for me, my throat was bone dry. Nevertheless, I wanted to put my best foot forward.

“Good…good morning!”

I tried to keep my tone as cheerful as possible, but instead, my voice cracked. A cold sweat trickled down my back. My skin felt uncomfortably taut around my cheekbones.

“Morning… Did you need something?”

“I just…wanted to talk about…sunshine…”

“What?” Shimamura furrowed her brow as if to say, “What the hell are you talking about?”

Good question.

If I actually said what I was thinking, I’d only humiliate myself, and Shimamura was guaranteed to get embarrassed, too. I needed to cut the poetry and just stick to the point. Now, how do I express gratitude again? Uhhh…oh, right!

“Th-thank…you…”

My mind was too distracted by all the sweating, and I was drawing a blank. As a result, I’d skipped all the leadup and gone straight to the “thanks” at the end.

“Aww, you don’t have to thank me. It’s…” Shimamura got about halfway through her response before the weirdness sank in. “Wait, what?”

She stared at me, puzzled. I needed to keep my wits about me, lest I started foaming at the mouth.

“Anyway, that’s all!”

I hadn’t even bothered to explain, yet I was already beating an awkward retreat back to my desk like the coward I was. The way the corners of my eyes burned, you’d have thought I was in the middle of a nice, hot shower. Meanwhile, weird panting sounds escaped my traitorous lips.

“Huh? What was that about?” Shimamura murmured, and my ears burned to match my eyes.

I wanted nothing more than to turn back and explain myself, but I knew for a fact that if I caved, that would only make things a hundred times worse. Instead, I had to grit my teeth and endure the situation—sit down, face forward, and put my chin in my hands. I pressed my palms hard against my cheeks, willing them to stop twitching and lie flat. I tried to convince myself that I’d successfully told Shimamura what was on my mind, but sadly that just wasn’t possible.

Thinking about it—the way I tripped over my own tongue, refused to make eye contact, and constantly rotated through moods like a kaleidoscope—I decided I wasn’t a more positive person; I was just a dumber person.

If I glanced back to look at Shimamura, I was sure that’d be written all over her face. So, instead, I turned a blind eye.

***

I had failed to follow the instructions from today’s horoscope, so that was on me. The memory of my awkward exit made me low-key want to die. God, why do I exist?

Defeated, I nevertheless plopped myself down in front of the TV. It was my nightly tradition now. Besides, I didn’t have any better ideas for how to approach Shimamura, so frankly I appreciated advice, no matter where it came from.

“Oh hey, the Shaman’s back.”

Out she popped, swinging her hair energetically. Partway through, however, she stopped to explain that she couldn’t do her dance yesterday due to a migraine. I didn’t need that information, but okay. Then, she immediately went back to headbanging twice as hard, like she was trying to make up for lost time. You ever think maybe this is what you get migraines from? Her hair whipped all over the screen. Ugh, please just get to the horoscopes already, I groaned internally, stomping impatiently on the floor.

I’ll cut to the chase; Libra’s horoscope was, “An intimate moment with the prince of your dreams will have your pulse racing!”

Prince of my dreams? Can’t imagine who that might be, I lied to myself as I fidgeted.

But by the time tonight’s clue (“U,” for the record) was onscreen, I’d already come to terms with reality.

Okay, but…Shimamura’s a girl…and so am I… So, who’s the prince? Is it one of us? Which one?

Going by personality, maybe Shimamura was the prince, since I wasn’t very manly…or was I? No, of course not. I was a girl, after all. Well, then again, so was Shimamura—and she was a lot girlier than I was, now that I thought about it. Long, soft hair, clear skin…and she had a bit of mystery about her, too. In that case, maybe she was closer to a princess, if anything.

I didn’t want her to be my prince, did I? No, surely not. Or was that a bad thing…? I started to get confused. My heart was thumping like crazy, and I hadn’t even gotten to the intimate moment with my prince yet.

So, does that mean the horoscope’s spot-on…? Or completely off?

~Tuesday, February 11~

“Anyway, would you wanna come?”

“To Nagafuji’s house…?”

“Yeah.”

It took me a minute to process the sheer absurdity of Shimamura inviting me to a house that wasn’t hers. Behind her, Hino and Nagafuji stood with their hands on their hips, looking smug. Apparently, they wanted us to play video games together after school—at least, I assumed it was their idea.

“You know I’m not a huge gamer, right?”

We didn’t have any consoles at my house, nor had I ever gone to a friend’s place to play theirs. But, more than anything else, I just wasn’t sure Nagafuji and I were “friends” in the first place.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Shimamura conceded quickly. Evidently, she didn’t have her heart set on me tagging along. I hadn’t said no yet, but I dearly wanted to, so this came as a relief. Wait a minute. If she goes without me…what if something makes her laugh, and I miss it?

“Oh, uh, on second thought, actually, I don’t mind.” I nearly added “as long as you’re there,” but hastily choked it back down. Can’t say that in front of the others—I’d better watch my mouth.

“Perfect! That’s four!” Together, Hino and Nagafuji celebrated their full roster.

Meanwhile, Shimamura looked at me with concern—the classic “caring older sister” sort of look.

“You sure?” she pressed, almost as though she could read my mind.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Again, I nearly named my greatest motive: as long as you’re there .

Once the final bell rang, the four of us headed for Nagafuji’s house. We rode two to a bike—Nagafuji on Hino’s, and Shimamura on mine. No matter how many times I saw it, I would never get over how ridiculous Nagafuji looked clinging to tiny little Hino’s shoulders. In my case, I was taller than my passenger, so the pairing looked a lot more natural…probably.

Shimamura’s hands always felt so big and warm whenever I held them, and yet whenever she grasped my shoulders, they felt small and frail. Was that because I was in the supportive role for a change? The thought made me feel a bit proud…until a few moments later, when I realized how incredibly childish this was.

Wait a minute. “An intimate moment with my prince…” And now, Shimamura’s hands are on my shoulders.

Seconds later, Shimamura let out a panicked yelp as I lost control of my bike. “Waaagh!”

Sure enough, Nagafuji’s house turned out to be a butcher shop, just as they’d all told me. A man—probably her dad—stood behind the counter out front. He took one look at his daughter and exclaimed, “I see you’ve brought the regular, the VIP, and a newcomer to boot!”

If “the regular” was Hino, and “the newcomer” was me, then that meant Shimamura was “the VIP.” I looked at her.

“My mom always sends me here to buy stuff when she’s feeling lazy,” Shimamura explained vaguely. Evidently, her relationship with her mom was just as healthy as the one with her little sister.

Would there ever come a day when I would join their ranks?

We walked to the back of the store and entered the Nagafujis’ living space; Hino strutted around like she owned the place as she set up the retro game console. There were only two controllers, so only two of us could play at a time.

Although part of me was disappointed that I didn’t get teamed up with Shimamura, another part was willing to let it slide—this time . But if I didn’t get paired up with her in next year’s class arrangement… The thought was too bleak to even imagine.

The living room was furnished with a kotatsu table, which our dear, cold-sensitive Shimamura was all too eager to sit at. Nagafuji followed suit. Meanwhile, Hino retrieved what appeared to be her own personal floor cushion and carried it over to the TV.

The video game worked a lot like The Game of Life; you rolled the dice, then moved your piece until you made it to the goal. I rolled for my starting funds: 10 million yen. What? Who the hell gave me 10 million yen and pushed me out the door? That’s beyond generous—that’s downright insane. How many hours would I have to work at my current job to make 10 million?

As I did the mental math, I rolled the dice again, and my result popped up onscreen: six.

“Wow, you’re off to a really good start!” Shimamura commented, sitting with her legs buried all the way under the blanket and her cheek squished against the table. It was…really cute, actually.

Nagafuji was similarly collapsed on the other end of the table, facing Shimamura.

“You’re gonna flatten your boobies if you keep that up,” Hino remarked.

This got a rare scowl out of Nagafuji…for a few seconds, anyway, and then the expression petered out with the rest of her energy. Without moving, she fumbled lethargically for the controller. I glanced over at Shimamura and saw her doing the same thing. She looked so young and innocent; I decided to let it slide.

“Nnnn…”

Every blue square I stopped on, I got another million. The inflation rate was so ridiculous, I started to wonder if we were playing with Zimbabwean currency instead of yen. But no one else seemed all that surprised by this element, so apparently it was par for the course. The longer I played the game, the more I lost my grip on the value of money.

The “finish line” was set in Niigata, not that far from Tokyo. After just three more dice rolls, the station was already within my sights. I’m supposed to land directly on it, right? I started rolling more judiciously. Hoping for a four, I watched the animation onscreen.

“Ooh, a perfect roll.”

“Looks like you’re first, Ada-chee!” Hino teased, elbowing me in the ribs.

So, do I get anything for being first? Oh…money. Should’ve known. Is this a money-saving game? I wonder what the limit is.

“So far Adachi’s in first place, huh? Wow,” Shimamura commented without lifting her head, her cheek wiggling with her mouth movements. Cutie.

Unfortunately, I still didn’t have a good grasp of the rules, so being first didn’t mean much to me.

There was so much I didn’t know…didn’t understand…and, in my confusion, I missed my chance to feel joy. I lacked experience in general, and as a result, my end products were misshapen. That made me realize just how much I had yet to learn compared to the people around me.

Thankfully, at around 7 P.M., we decided to call it a night. Hino seemed like she planned to stay, so Shimamura and I ended up leaving the house just the two of us. That came as a huge relief, albeit probably just to me.

I glanced back at the storefront window, dimly illuminated by the light spilling out from the back, and noticed a pillar nearby covered in all sorts of flyers—world cruises, political posters, even a mildly outdated movie poster depicting a princess guiding her prince by the hand.

I stared blankly at the poster, imagining our faces superimposed over theirs. Shimamura was the princess, pulling “me” along. But the characters’ genders weren’t a major factor to me—I simply found myself inserting Shimamura into the “leading” role, whatever it might be. With her there to guide me, I could go just about anywhere. Ugh, I’m such a terminal case.

Just then, the icy wind brought me back to my senses, but that was probably for the best. The next thing I knew, all the warmth had evaporated, leaving behind only the bone-chilling cold and the faintest outline of Shimamura, distinct from the hazy darkness all around us.

I knew she wouldn’t ask me, so I would have to offer. I walked my bike in front of her.

“Hey, um…want me to…take you home?”

Idly, I wondered if it would ever be possible for me to speak with confidence instead of cowardice.

“That’s pretty far out of your way… Are you sure?”

I nodded eagerly. After all, it was worth it if it meant I got to be with her.

“All right, then, I guess I’ll take you up on it.”

We set off in the same fashion we’d arrived, with Shimamura on the back of my bike. I felt her fingers tighten around my shoulders—and the next thing I knew, she leaned over my shoulder to look at me.

“You know, you’ve really changed a lot since we first met,” she murmured wistfully, her eyes wide in contemplation.

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

Trust me, I’m aware. And for the record, it’s YOUR fault.

***

Once the Shaman’s dance was over, it was time for the horoscopes. That was the only part of the show I cared about.

I wasn’t sure if the Shaman’s dancing was actually relevant, but somehow it just felt fitting. Wait, what? No, that’s stupid.

“If you want to close that gap, then start taking action! Don’t be passive!”

Evidently, we Libras needed to be a bit more assertive tomorrow. It felt like the sort of tired cliché you’d read in a self-help book.

For the record, Shimamura’s horoscope was, “Don’t let others take advantage of your generosity.” Admittedly, she definitely had that sort of big-sister personality…but it struck me as the kind of horoscope you could find in any newspaper or magazine. Did the show have a whole different team of writers now or something?

Oh, and tonight’s clue was “G.” Apparently, tomorrow’s would be the last. But that meant nothing to me, since by this point, I couldn’t remember what the first clue was. I tucked my hands under my feet and curled up into a ball.

“Start taking action.” What a joke. If I were capable of that, then I wouldn’t have needed this stupid show. Besides, I wasn’t exactly sitting around twiddling my thumbs. I was trying my best, wasn’t I?

What I wanted to know wasn’t whether or not I should do something—it was what , exactly, I was supposed to be doing.

~Wednesday, February 12~

“She didn’t show…?”

All throughout the day, I kept periodically checking over my shoulder, but Shimamura’s desk remained empty. This was one of few occasions when I’d showed up for class, but she hadn’t. It gnawed and gnawed at me until I gave in and checked my phone.

At lunchtime, I’d sent her an email that read, “You skipping today?” but so far, she hadn’t replied. She had seemed perfectly healthy yesterday…but maybe she came down with something at the last minute. I debated whether to go check on her. After all, she’d done the same for me a while back… Besides, I was supposed to “take action” today.

The problem was that Shimamura hadn’t responded to my email, so I had no way of knowing whether she was actually at her house. Going there could very well be a waste of time. Or I might end up being forced to interact with her mom, which would be awkward.

Despite all my reservations, however, I’d already made up my mind, and now my body moved on autopilot. My footsteps were light and airy, and I could tell that my feet were eager to start pedaling.

Sure enough, my bike sailed smoothly all the way to the Shimamura residence. Once I confirmed that she still hadn’t answered my email, I rang the doorbell. A few moments later, I heard the pitter-patter of feet running down the hallway—a bit too energetically to be Shimamura herself. No offense.

“Coming!”

The door flew open, and out popped a head of bright-blue hair, accompanied by a gust of spores that immediately engulfed me.

“Hello?” The girl tilted her head, smiling. “Oh, yes. You are Adachi-san, correct?”

“Yeah…?”

It was the little alien girl—I couldn’t remember her name off the top of my head. Today she wore a sleeveless frock, as if she’d somehow forgotten that it was winter outside. What was she doing here? I peered over her head down the hallway, but no one else seemed to be coming.

“Where’s Shimamura?”

“Napping! So, you must be very quiet! Shhhh!” She pressed her index finger to her lips. Uhhh, you’re the one shouting about it.

From “napping,” I figured Shimamura must not actually be sick. That was a relief. Evidently, she just felt like staying home today. Was this blue-haired girl an influential factor in that decision? I couldn’t see the correlation.

“Actually, this is perfect,” the girl continued, then patted my leg. “You see, I must go and procure dinner.”

“Okay…?”

“Thus, I shall entrust her to you!”

She proceeded to dash out the door and down the street—completely barefoot, like a total lunatic. Dumbstruck, I watched her go. What was I supposed to do now? Watch over Shimamura? I didn’t need someone else to ask me to do that. Yikes, I sound like a stalker.

“No…I’m not. I’m just…a loyal friend.”

“Now that I think about it, I can’t have you answering the door,” Shimamura mumbled as she appeared at the end of the hall, rubbing her eyes. It was apparent that she’d just woken up from a nap.

Then her gaze met mine—and shifted from sleepy to sharp.

Likewise, I hastily shut my mouth and stood up straight.

“Oh, hey, it’s Adachi.” She looked at me in mild surprise.

As I cast my gaze downward, Shimamura followed suit, untucking her shirt and looking at it. She was still dressed in her school uniform (minus the jacket), and now it was all wrinkled. She frowned, then shrugged and kept walking toward the door.

“Oh well,” she said. “Where’s Yashiro?”

Should I point out the crazy bedhead she’s got going on, or pretend I don’t see it?

“She left,” I replied. “Said she had to go ‘procure dinner,’ whatever that means.”

“Oh, right. She’s such a free spirit. So, what’s up?” The look in Shimamura’s eyes asked, “Did you need something?”

“Well, you didn’t come to school today, so I thought maybe you were sick. I sent you a message, you know,” I explained, though I heard a tiny bit of childish frustration creep into my tone.

She turned back and glanced in the direction of her room. “Oh, sorry. I left my phone in my bag, so I didn’t notice.”

Despite her apology, I couldn’t help but pout a tiny bit longer. Had she skipped school just so she could hang out with that little girl?

“Well, anyway, I came by to make sure you were doing okay. Sorry if I woke you.”

“Awww, you’re such a sweetheart!” she teased, grinning.

She reached for my head. I flinched a tiny fraction, but otherwise let her continue. First, I felt her fingers against my hair; then her big, warm palm cupped the back of my head. Why did her hands always feel so big when she petted me? As her fingers combed through my hair, my heart pounded so hard, it made my gums throb.

“Ack, sorry,” she said. “Force of habit.”

I sensed that she was about to pull her hand away. Thinking back to my horoscope, I took a step forward, closing the gap between us once more. With my head tilted toward the floor, I couldn’t see her reaction, but she didn’t say anything. I couldn’t speak, either—it took everything I had just to bite my lip and endure it. We froze in place for a moment…and then, silently, Shimamura resumed stroking my hair.

This, more than anything, was my real reason for coming here. Everything else had gone out the window, retroactively rewritten by this event. The chronology of it didn’t matter. Even if this wasn’t the reason I’d started with, I could just brute-force it later.

As the blood rushed to my head, I contemplated this moment’s significance. After all, if anyone else had stroked my hair, I’d probably have gotten annoyed at them messing it up. So, why was I okay with Shimamura doing it? And why did it provoke such a strong reaction from me? Why did time seem to stand still?

I had a feeling the answer could be summarized in just three words.

***

I’d come across this horoscope show entirely by chance, and now it was an integral part of my nightly routine. I couldn’t speak to the show’s accuracy, since I’d stopped thinking too hard about that after a few episodes. Yet I knew for a fact that it’d had a quantifiable effect on my day-to-day life. Perhaps a horoscope’s “quality” was best evaluated based on how many readers actually acted on it.

That’s not to say that this particular horoscope show was by any means good , mind you. Tonight’s horoscopes, for example, all read, “Don’t forget to buy chocolates!” That didn’t really count as a horoscope at all, in my opinion, but at least they didn’t bother playing coy about it. Immediately afterward, they started promoting this one chocolatier’s website, and I was like, Ah, yes, I see what you did there.

Tonight’s episode featured the final clue, which was “A.” Then the Shaman revealed how she’d chosen the secret word herself. She went on and on (and on and on) about her decision process until some staff members ran out from backstage and attempted to haul her offscreen. There was a scuffle, during which the Shaman shouted things like “It’s my show!” and “You wanna take this outside, punk?!” until eventually they overpowered her and, subsequently, she disappeared from sight. All that remained was her long wig, knocked to the floor during the struggle.

One of her costars retrieved it, smiling silently at the camera, and at that point I started to question what the hell I was watching. Thus, I turned off the TV before they ever revealed what the “special prize” was, although I heard them mention something about a “message.” Personally, I couldn’t remember the first few letters anymore, so I couldn’t have called in even if I wanted to.

Either way, it was time to stop spending so much energy on this show. I had more important things to be worrying about, just as tonight’s “horoscope” had “predicted.”

~Thursday, February 13~

The next thing I knew, it was the day before Valentine’s.

I could remember making chocolates on Sunday, and Shimamura stroking my hair, but everything before and between those was a blur. Possibly for the best, since I had the feeling that I’d humiliated myself a bunch…as usual.

Nah, I’m probably just paranoid.

The big day was now right around the corner. For once, the phrase “time flies” was actually applicable to my life; the clock that once ran agonizingly slowly now spun its hands at breakneck speed. It was so dizzying, I was scared I might just pass out.

Oh, and there was one other thing I forgot: I had to work tonight.

God, what do I do?

Standing near the restaurant’s front entrance, I tugged the hem of my cheongsam and panicked internally. I still hadn’t bought any chocolates for Shimamura; I’d planned to go tonight, right up until I realized I was scheduled to work. Fortunately, I managed to remember during class…but at the same time, I kind of wished I hadn’t. So, there I stood, tying myself in knots, to the point that I actually forgot about how much leg I was showing.

Sometimes I sorely wished my stupid brain would at least try to keep up with what was going on.

The only option would be to wing it on the day of. Find a store, buy something, give it to Shimamura. Actually, maybe it couldn’t hurt to bring her with me. Yeah, that sounds good. Better than an unceremonious five-minute exchange at school, anyway.

My biggest worry with this plan, however, was the possibility of long lines or stock shortages. I could tolerate standing in line, of course, but if they didn’t have anything for me to buy, well…I’d be up the creek without a paddle. Could I give Shimamura something else instead? Surely it didn’t have to be chocolate. Yeah… To me, the most important part of this holiday was simply giving her a gift—any gift. That allayed my fears a bit.

Right as I was on the cusp of solving one problem, another reared its head.

Did Shimamura care about our plans even remotely? She hadn’t forgotten them, had she? It occurred to me that I hadn’t actually tried to arrange anything with her yet. Still, I couldn’t exactly stand here and fiddle around on my cell phone in the middle of the dining hall. Fortunately, no customers were in sight, so I hurried to the staff room in the back.

There, my manager was nowhere to be seen. I peeked around and eventually saw her standing outside the side entrance; she, too, was on her phone. Without a moment to lose, I made a beeline to my bookbag, grabbed my phone, and composed an email at the speed of light:

“Are you free tomorrow would you want to go somewhere and hang out”

I knew I wouldn’t be able to check for replies during my shift, so I punched in all my questions at once and hit send. Then I put my phone back and immediately walked out front. Luckily, there weren’t any customers waiting, but I did spot my coworker’s red car pulling into the staff parking lot.

I caught sight of the calendar near the front entrance and glanced up at the box for the fourteenth. There, printed in red, were the words “VALENTINE’S DAY,” denoting the holiday. And it was tomorrow . The thought made me restless, to the point that I felt my feet fidgeting.

Even if Shimamura couldn’t hang out with me after school for whatever reason, it would be nice just to see her. We hadn’t spent a holiday together since Christmas, and I was all kinds of excited and nervous. Or maybe I was just having a heart attack. Couldn’t really tell.

To be clear, I wouldn’t have felt this way about just anyone—only Shimamura.

So, why her? one part of my brain asked another.

What if I’d met someone else in the gym loft that day? Would I have started having feelings—er, normal friend feelings—for them instead? I let this scenario play out in my mind for a bit, but ultimately decided that the answer was no. We probably wouldn’t have had much to talk about, and I would’ve made my exit at the first opportunity. From then on, I would’ve found somewhere else to sit around all day.

So, what made Shimamura so…comfortable to be around?

Maybe it was because she was my…my soul mate …or something?

I hadn’t actually spoken this out loud, yet I was so embarrassed, I nearly bit my tongue anyway. Ugh, I sound like a creep!

“Wow! You all red!” my older coworker teased in her thick accent as she walked in the door. The realization that I was blushing made my eyes burn.

“It…uh…it’s from the cold. It happens a lot in winter.”

“Very hot in here. Stupid thing!” she complained in the heater’s direction as she pulled off her purple coat.

Oh. Apparently, it was warm in the restaurant. That would certainly explain my red-hot face. Yeah…just the heater’s fault.

***

And so, the big day rolled around… The day that would decide it all.