Loss 4: The Courage to Let Go

Loss 4: The Courage to Let Go

Loss 4:

The Courage to Let Go

T HE OPEN HOUSE WAS HERE. THE CLOCK READ twelve-thirty, and all four members of the lit club sat together in the club room, the girls sending endless glances between each other.

Yakishio ended the charade, throwing down a box on the table. “I’ll go first! This was my best batch.” She opened it, revealing a mish-mash of vaguely chocolatey blobs.

Yanami and Komari sent two more glances my way, pressing me for a comment.

“Looks good,” I said. “I see you remember those amoebas we learned about in biolo—”

“This one’s a tsuwabuki, like the flower, and this one’s a leaf. Wait, Nukkun, were you saying something?”

“Nope. Gotcha. Yeah, that’s a pretty flower.”

“That one’s a leaf.”

“I meant this one.”

“That’s also a leaf.”

What was this, the ultimate CAPTCHA?

Yakishio glowered at me. “You’re being really rude, you know that?”

My bad. But hey, there was more to chocolate than met the eye. I picked up a slightly gelatinous mass and tried it. It was sweet. So sweet, in fact, I could literally feel the grains of sugar on my tongue. It tasted like it had been sitting in her bag for half a year.

“It’s, uh, good,” I said slowly. Carefully. “It has a…fermented aspect to it.”

Yakishio threw a piece into her mouth. “Really? I think they’re kinda nasty. Different strokes, I guess.”

Screw me, I guess.

Yanami, her curiosity piqued, tried one herself. “You know what? It’s a temperature thing. I can tell. But I can see the appeal. It’s got this muddy texture that really takes me back.” And then she ate another.

I refused to question why mud made her nostalgic.

“H-here’s what I made,” Komari stammered as she produced a tupperware container. Inside were the chocolates she’d baked at my house. Three kinds—milk, dark, and raspberry.

“Where’s the heart one?” I asked. Komari froze like she’d been struck by lightning. “What?”

“W-we could only make one! N-not enough i-ingredients!”

Ah, right. They’d used leftover stuff, after all. That made sense. But what did she have to get all red in the face for?

After demolishing half of Yakishio’s contribution, Yanami set her sights on the next.

“Some of these are for the visitors,” I reminded her firmly. “Restrain yourself.”

“I know, I know. Relax,” she insisted. “I brought my own anyway.” She rifled through her bag, puffed up with pride.

“What kind didja make?” asked Yakishio, munching on Komari’s confections.

“The kind that makes dreams come true. Because that’s what I packed into this baby. Hopes and dreams.” Pretty melodramatic for chocolate. She pulled out a box—a slightly tall one meant for a small cake—and threw it open with grandiose flair. “Here she is! Chocolate a la Yanami!”

It was a ball. A single, softball-sized sphere of pure chocolate. Nothing else.

No one said a word.

“Is it just the one?” I spoke up on behalf of us.

“Sure is. I jammed all the ingredients I had into it, and lemme tell you, it was not easy getting it to stay this round.”

“So how do you eat it?”

Yanami looked genuinely confused that I would ask such a question. “Bite into it? How else?”

She demonstrated, then handed it to Yakishio, who followed suit after some hesitation. Then it was Komari’s turn. Then it came around to me. Carefully measuring the farthest point I could from their teeth marks, I took a small bite. It tasted of chocolate with hints of chocolate.

“We’re not giving this to people.” I sealed it away back in its box.