Loss 3: Goodbye Season

Loss 3: Goodbye Season

Loss 3:

Goodbye Season

I T WAS A GORGEOUS SATURDAY AFTERNOON. MY partner in crime, Yanami, and I had come to Toyohashi Track and Field. To practice for the last weekend of March, when Yakishio and I would race for the fate of the club.

Yanami clicked the stopwatch as I crossed the finish line.

“Time?” I wheezed, my legs shaking uncontrollably. I was pretty confident. Fourteen seconds was the goal, and I was in the zone.

“Sixteen-point-five.”

Why? Why would she lie to me? But she showed me the stopwatch, and reality with it. How could I have gotten slower ?

Yanami sighed. “How in the heck’re you gonna do this in just three weeks?”

“Somehow. She’s giving me a handicap, so all I’ve gotta do is get my time down to average.”

The rules of engagement were simple. I’d have a head start equal to the difference between the average time it took a first-year boy to run a hundred meters and Yakishio’s best.

“And how exactly is all this gonna work?”

“So, basically, I start two and a half seconds before Yakishio does. Whoever crosses the finish line first wins.”

Yanami nodded. “What time are you shooting for?”

“The Tsuwabuki average is, uh, fourteen-point-five seconds.”

An eyebrow went up. “And what was your time just now?”

“Sixteen-point-five.” She didn’t reply. She didn’t need to. I coughed. “Hey, I’ve got a clear goal. Just gotta bring it down by two seconds. Or technically, by two seconds plus however much Yakishio can lower her best. That’s what’s gonna decide the winner.”

Yanami shrugged, then planted her hands on her hips. “What I still don’t get is how you got wrapped up in this crap in the first place. This is way out of character for you.”

“It just sort of happened, okay? It was this or let her leave the lit club. What was I supposed to do?”

“But dude, your time’s a joke. If Lemon-chan beats her record, two seconds ain’t gonna cut it.”

“Yakishio’s good enough that even a tenth of a second is a big deal to her. I’ve got a lot more room for improvement, so it’s really not as hopeless as it looks.”

“Big talk. Let’s see some walk then. Back in position. I’mma time you again.”

Was this how runners improved? Just running back and forth over and over? I sure didn’t know, and there was no one around to tell us otherwise.

After my third go, Yanami apparently forgot to even keep timing me, and it was right around when we were bickering over that that Komari showed up carrying a bulky bag. She looked lost.

“Over here!” Yanami called out to her. “Wave, slowpoke,” she shot at me.

“Gimme a break. I can hardly breathe—all right, all right, fine.”

Komari soon spotted us and scampered over.

“You bring the goods?” Yanami asked her.

“R-right here,” she replied, opening the bag. It was stuffed with bottles. “I m-made these. It’s got apple cider vinegar, and salt, a-and sugar.”

Homemade? Wow. I was touched.

Yanami flaunted a bottle with a puffed-up chest and a conceited grin. “Y’hear that, Nukumizu-kun? That’s the sound of generosity. Can I get a ‘thank you’?”

“What exactly am I thanking you for?”

“I supplied the bottles. I got tons at home for my diets.”

Tons, huh? Somehow I wasn’t surprised by the knowledge that she was a “buy first, think later” kind of person.

“What’s that one that’s a different color? Something special in it?” I asked.

“I-it’s got kinako,” Komari said.

“Soybean flour?”

“F-for protein. Drink it a-after you’re done.”

Was she an angel or what? I went straight for it, much to Komari’s confusion.

“A-are you done?”

“I’m pretty winded, and my shoes just came untied, so yeah, think I’ll call it here.”

She snatched the bottle from me. “Y-you will run. Until you drop. H-hopefully you’ll stay there.”

“Seriously? I’m already feeling like I could.”

Three laymen did not equal an expert, and training stupid could be worse than no training at all. I started to head off the track to at least take a breather.

Yanami stood in my way, though. “Not so fast. The lit club is in crisis right now!”

“Jeez, I’m just catching my breath. Ever heard of supercompensation?”

That was a big enough word to keep her occupied for a while. But then Komari grabbed onto me next. “E-ever heard of the Yakishio Method? Let me show you.”

She could keep that to herself. That thing was an all-or-nothing gambit. She’d have me running till I dropped for real.

“Fine,” I surrendered, “but I’m only going for a little while longer. I’m meeting someone later.”

The girls looked at me like I was crazy.

“What’s her name?” Yanami demanded.

“Wh-who is she?” Komari interrogated.

“None of your business,” I said. “What, so I’m not allowed to have my own secrets now?”

Why’d they have to do this to me? Why couldn’t they just let me save face?

They looked at each other and snickered.

“Bro’s trying to save face. You can tell,” said Yanami.

“Wh-what a loser.”

R.I.P. my face…

True to Komari’s word, I ran until I dropped. Literally. And I didn’t have a single second to show for it.

***

After practice, I dragged myself on the shaky, delicate legs of a newborn fawn fifteen minutes to Taishoken, an old place selling traditional Japanese sweets and eats. You could feel the history emanating off the facade, but not in an antiquated way. It was still clean and sleek enough to not appear off-putting. Inside, mitarashi dango, their specialty, rotated slowly around on an automated cooker. One lap, two dunks, and you could smell the rice dumplings roasting the whole way round, and the shimmer on that soy sauce glaze. God, the glaze. Food good.

A tall boy emerged from the shop while I drooled. My secret tryst. Fellow first-year, Ayano Mitsuki.

“Right on time,” he said, handing me a skewer of dango. “What’s this about? It sounded urgent.”

“Oh. How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. You can treat me next time.”

We ate. The lazily rotating cooker continued to hypnotize. How to broach the subject?

“Is it something to do with Lemon?” he finally asked.

“Wow. Good guess.”

“Hardly. You wanted to see me without Chihaya. It wasn’t hard to figure it out.”

Guy was right. At least it saved me the trouble of figuring out how to bring it up myself. I gave him the whole story, and he listened in polite silence.

“Lemon brought me to this place a lot when we were kids, you know,” he said when I’d finished.

It wasn’t a bad pick if you didn’t have a more modern candy shop to get your fix. But wait.

“I thought you guys went to Aoki. That’s not in the same district.”

“Nope. We were a couple of commute-breakers.”

In Toyohashi, elementary schools occupied certain regions where students could be expected to commute within called “commuter districts.” Like school districts, but a regional variant. Kids weren’t allowed to leave their designated district without supervision, and violating this rule was a grave offense indeed. The nightmare of many a child.

“Back when we were third-years,” he went on. “She’d just up and tell me to follow her, and off we went. She was one of those king-of-the-sandbox types. You know the ones. She scared me sometimes, to say the least.” I didn’t doubt him. Kid Yakishio sounded like a husky without a leash. “She’d always drag me off to places if I ever got in arguments with friends or in trouble with my parents. We’d come here to eat dango and watch the machine turn, and she’d talk my ear off about stuff I couldn’t really follow.”

I bit off one of the dango. It was chewy and sweet. Probably the exact same kind of chewy and sweet that kid Ayano and kid Yakishio experienced all those years ago.

He continued, “The older we got, the less often she invited me out. There was only one time she ever took me somewhere in junior high.”

“What happened?”

Ayano took a moment to remember and decide how much to say. “It was our first year. She was making strides, no pun intended, with her running. There was a stretch of time when her supervisor was having her compete in just about every event in track.”

“You can do that? I thought you were supposed to, like, specialize.”

“You’re not wrong, but it was public school, and we were still little. Lemon was the best at pretty much everything, and she loved it all to death. She just ran and ran, and the medals practically flew to her on their own. But then a senpai she was friends with left. Because they just couldn’t compete.” He ate the last of his dango. “Ever since, she hasn’t touched anything but the hundred-meter.”

She’d never told me any of this before. Maybe because it wasn’t related to current events. Or maybe it was. Who was I to say? But it certainly brought to mind a lot of the things she’d been struggling with recently.

“I’ve got a question for you,” Ayano said. “How’d it come to a race?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I’m serious. If you’ve got any theories, I’d love to hear them.”

He looked like he might’ve had one, but he kept it to himself. “Guess it’s on brand,” he finally muttered.

That it was. I stared at my now-barren skewer. “Running might give us an answer, but it doesn’t really solve the question, does it? I’m not really sure how I’m supposed to go about all this.”

“It’s better than nothing.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “I might’ve lost my right to speak on Lemon’s behalf, but something tells me there’s more to this than just a race. Maybe what she wants is to prove something to herself. To you. Just my thoughts.”

“If that’s all she wanted, why do the stakes have to be so high?”

“When are they not in life?” Ayano chuckled to himself.

“You’re really not being very helpful.”

“Don’t let it bog you down. Lemon’s putting a lot of faith in you to help her work through this.”

“Why me and not you?”

Ayano smirked, nudging me with his elbow. “Now isn’t that just the question of the century. I might be a little jealous.”

“I swear I’m going to tell Asagumo-san on you.” Why were all guys with girlfriends totally insufferable?

He took out his phone. “Speaking of Chihaya, she asked me to ask you if you wanted to have tea together. She happens to be in the area.”

Well, that was nice of her to ask, but social etiquette dictated that I… Wait, she just happened to be in the area?

“Did you tell her you’d be here?” I asked.

“No. Just that I was meeting you.” He tapped away at his phone, writing a reply with a big grin on his face.

I had my own personal question of the century. Just how did she “happen” to be in the area exactly? How indeed.

I lowered my voice. “Does this happen a lot?”

“What do you mean?”

“You, going out somewhere, maybe with Yakishio or some girl, and then, all of a sudden, Asagumo-san coincidentally messages you with perfect timing somehow. Almost like she was listening to you.”

Ayano stopped tapping. “Now that you mention it, yeah. That does happen a lot.”

Oh, Asagumo-san. I cleared my throat. “Ayano, I need to tell you something and understand it’s for your own good. I think your girlfriend is—”

Before I could finish, he patted my shoulder with that same big grin. “I know, man. She and I?”

“We were made for each other.”

I whipped around toward the voice. There, glistening in the sun, was a forehead most magnificent. Asagumo Chihaya beamed at me, and I could only smile back.

I said hello, and then got the hell out of there.

***

The following Monday, after school, Yanami and I were watching the track team practice. They warmed up together before dispersing to work on their respective specialties. No sign of Yakishio. No surprise.

“Are those the sprinters over there? Looks like they’re, like, working out. Building muscle or something.” Yanami squinted and peered far across the field.

“Guess that’s how normal people practice. Not like Yakishio.”

I wasn’t wasting time here, thank you very much. I was gathering intel, which was just as important as practice. I most definitely had not wimped out on account of the agonizing aches in both of my legs.

“I bet I could ask my friend who’s on the team to help,” Yanami offered. She started to tear into a long, thin package. “I think she does the high jump. She could give you major hops.”

“I’m underage.”

Whatever she was saying, I was only half paying attention, to be honest. How was I supposed to focus on literally anything other than the massive lump of yokan she was digging into? The thing wasn’t even snack sized, and she’d unwrapped it like a friggin’ banana. Was she gonna eat it like one too?

“You’re light, though. You might have some real potential.” Straight down the hatch. She actually did it.

“What’re you…?!”

“What? I said I had a friend. Chill, dude.”

“I meant the yokan. Why did you just bite right into it?”

“There’s this place in Gofukumachi. Got it from there.” Yanami went in for another bite. And hadn’t answered my question.

“I thought you were on another diet. A whole block of red bean paste doesn’t seem conducive to that.”

She countered my concern with one of her trademark smirks. “I was with you when you practiced last weekend. Thus, vicariously, I practiced too. I’m still on track, baby.”

To be fair, in games, experience was typically shared equally with the party, regardless of contribution. Meaning, by the transitive property, that those yokan calories were going to me too. Time to kick this one out.

Yanami’s chewing didn’t make for a pleasant backing track, but it backed the track team’s practice nonetheless. Apparently, you weren’t supposed to just run a hundred meters over and over. They were watching their forms, adjusting their pace, trying different strides. It looked a lot more involved than I’d given it credit for.

I finished taking notes and shut my journal. “This was helpful. Uh, Yanami-san? What’s wrong with you?” She’d turned a pale shade of blue, and she wasn’t moving. “Your complexion looks a little off.”

“Punk, I’m a rainbow.”

Still a cause for concern, but okay.

Yanami put her hand over her mouth and forced the rest of the yokan on me. “Y-you can have that.”

I did not want it. It had teeth marks and everything. But that was secondary to the fact that Yanami— Yanami —had given me leftovers.

“Do you need to go to the nurse’s office? Should I call an ambulance?”

She shook her head. “I just need…some tea. Black oolong maybe.”

Tea could do many things, but fix her? Unlikely.

“I’ll go get some,” I said.

“Wait!” she suddenly snapped a second before I started running.

“What? Puke in that plastic bottle there if you have to.”

“Don’t eat the yokan actually. I’ll finish it later.”

Oh. She was fine. I nodded and made my way to the vending machine. Walking this time.

***

Yanami couldn’t eat a whole block of yokan without getting sick. This was valuable information. Very valuable.

I stopped in front of the vending machine and took my wallet out. “Hm. Black oolong’s expensive. Let’s go with green.”

The tea clunked down. I squatted to retrieve it.

“Nukumizu-kun. There you are.”

I turned, and there was Kurata-san, the track team captain, all ponytail’d up and smiling.

“Oh. Hi,” I said.

“I hear you and Lemon are having a race. Need some help? I’d be glad to lend it.”

“How exactly do you know about that?”

She smirked. “What, and give away my source? That info cost me an arm and a leg, you know. Well, a couple blocks of yokan, but you get the idea.”

Secret source: identified. It also explained her sudden stomach troubles. That’d been her second block.

“Please try to keep it quiet,” I begged. “Anyway, gotta hurry.”

As I started to walk away, the captain grabbed my arm. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You hear what I even said?”

Right. The help. My brain might have let that slip for some Freudian reason or another.

“I did,” I said. “What did you have in mind?”

“You wanna win that race, don’t you? I used to be a sprinter. If I were you, I wouldn’t look this gift horse in the mouth.”

Was she actually offering to coach me? That didn’t sound like such a bad idea, but then I thought again.

“I appreciate the offer. But I think I have to decline.”

“That’s the spirit. You’re in good… Wait, decline ?!”

Textbook comedy. God, I couldn’t keep up with this one.

I ruffled my hair awkwardly. “If I let you coach me, I’d basically be pitting Yakishio against her own teammates. Just think it might make things needlessly difficult for her.”

“Really? You think she’d overthink it that much? Scratch that. She would. I know she would.”

She totally would.

“I have a different favor to ask,” I said. “Make sure she has a warm welcome when she returns.”

Captain Kurata nodded slowly, arms crossed. “Y’know, I think I get what your deal is.”

Everyone but me did, apparently. “Uh-huh.”

She plopped her hand on my shoulder. “Anyway, gotcha. You’re weird. Lemon’s weird. It’s a match made in heaven.”

Those were her last words before leaving. Yakishio and I were birds of a feather. Apparently.

“Weird how?” I mumbled.

I cracked open my tea and took a big swig. The simple, refreshing taste of green tea was a wave of relaxation to my confused and conflicted soul. And yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was forgetting something.

“There you are,” said the something I’d forgot. She was looking a lot better all of a sudden. Yanami snatched the tea and immediately downed half of it. “Whew! God, I love being Japanese. Can’t get enough of that green goodness.”

“So are you better or what?”

“Fit as a fiddle, this Yanami-chan. Boy was it touch and go for a while there, though.” She beamed.

“Did you make sure to clean up? You know how some people get sick just looking at that stuff.”

“Relax, I ran to the bathroom fir—shut up! I didn’t puke! Shut up!” I took her word for it. Yanami sipped a little more tea, then stared off toward Kurata. “She from track?”

“That’s Kurata-senpai. She’s the captain. She offered to coach me.”

Yanami cocked her head at me when I didn’t say anything else. “But you told her no.”

“Huh? How do you know that?”

She sneered at me. “Because you would. Wouldn’t you? Gotta do all this all by yourself, don’tcha?”

Who said that? She was putting words in my mouth. She’d be better off doing what she did best and stuffing her own.

“Just thought it wasn’t right to get her team involved,” I insisted. “That’s all there is to it.”

Yakishio hadn’t gone to them when she was struggling. She hadn’t even gone to Yanami. She’d come to me. Why that was, I couldn’t even begin to guess at, and doubtless she couldn’t either. It was probably something silly. She was hurting, and I just happened to be the one within walking distance.

Yanami stared at me, almost through me, as if trying to read my thoughts.

“What?” I said.

“Hey.” She gave a soft, mature smile and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Still got that yokan?”

I gave it to her. She happily accepted.

***

The next day, it rained. Was still raining. Third period was modern literature, but all I could pay attention to was the pattering against the windows. The raindrops drowned out the world, isolating us. It was only us. Us, the classroom, and the rain.

Our teacher was a young, soft-spoken guy. Pauses in his lecture were punctuated by a symphony of page-turning. Natsume Soseki’s novel Kokoro was today’s topic. Our textbooks included an excerpt, the final writings of a character known only as Sensei, illustrating his relationship with his close friend, K.

I turned the page a beat after everyone else, absentmindedly peeling off a sticky note that read, “Important! Subtext ahoy!” in rounded, idiosyncratic handwriting that gravitated to the upper right. Tsukinoki-senpai’s.

By her words, “ Kokoro is a seminal work. It’s got BL. It’s got NTR. WSS. It’s got it all!”

Why she’d told me this, of all people, as if I would care, I did not know.

Unrelatedly, WSS was an obscure kind of branch of NTR in genre fiction, characterized by a female character essentially being “robbed” of the target of her affections. The target could be either aware or oblivious of said affections. Think Yanami. She was a good example.

I started to roll the note up into a ball but stopped. Tsukinoki-senpai wasn’t here anymore. She didn’t go to this school.

I folded the note up instead.

“Anyway, that’s all for today,” the teacher announced softly. Seconds later, the bell rang. I liked this guy. His lessons never ran long.

Now that we had a few minutes’ break, I had work to do. Tap water always tasted different the day after a downpour, so I had to do the rounds and make sure my control group was in order.

“Nukumizu-kun,” the teacher said just as I was about to leave. “You’re in the literature club, no?”

“Huh? Uh, yes. I am.”

Sensei frowned at my flustered expression. “Sorry to keep you. Are you in a hurry?”

“No, I just didn’t expect you to know my name.”

He laughed. Like I was joking. “What teacher doesn’t know the names of their students?”

Oh, they existed. And they were closer than he thought.

“Did you need me for something?” I asked.

“There are a few literature events for students I thought I’d introduce you to. I thought maybe you and your club could learn something.”

I took the flyer. On it was listed a number of events from writing contests to read-alouds to bibliobattles. They looked pretty official too. Almost too official for a club of…our reputation. For example, look at Komari. Was her kind of work the sort of stuff we ought to be putting out for public reading?

“Komari?” I questioned. “What are you doing here?”

Sure enough, there she was, as if summoned by my own thoughts.

She trotted over and grabbed my sleeve. “N-Nuku…!”

“What? Hey, are you good?”

“He… N-Nuku…” Tears welled in her eyes, then started to spill over.

“H-hey, whoa! What’s wrong?! Hey!”

Suddenly, Yanami came barreling over, pushed me aside, and threw her arms around her. “Komari-chan, what’s wrong?! What did you do, Nukumizu-kun?!”

“Nothing!” I exclaimed. “R-right?”

You could never be too sure. Especially when it came to me. It was starting to get weird, so I ushered them out of the classroom as quickly as possible.

***

Komari sipped on the hot cocoa I’d bought her, still sniffling. We were at a bench by one of the vending machines now.

“You okay?” I asked her.

“Y-yeah. Um…”

Before she could continue, Yanami shot me a glare. “Go on. Tell us what he did to you. Did he mess with your hair tuft?”

I’d thought about it, but no.

“I swear it wasn’t me this time,” I insisted. “Komari, you’d only come to 1-C for one of us. What is it?”

She nodded feebly and took a shaky breath. “H-he got in. Tamaki-senpai passed!”

I’d all but forgotten exam results were going up today.

“Nukumizu-kun, check your messages,” said Yanami. “She’s totally right.”

I pulled out my phone and navigated to the club group chat. There it was. The good news. Wow. Now that was cause for celebration. Seriously, it was huge. Still.

“Is that why you were crying? Because you were happy?” I asked.

She nodded again. So, in summary, she’d learned that Tamaki-senpai got into college, came running all the way to 1-C, found me, and burst into tears. Just normal things.

“I-I’m so happy,” she stammered, squeezing her can of cocoa. Smiling.

I dropped it and decided to just smile back.

Yanami clapped once. “You know what that means? We gotta go out and buy celebration goodies!”

“Y-yeah. I wanna celebrate.” Komari’s eyes twinkled with excitement.

“Then it’s settled. You good with that, Nukumizu-kun?”

“I might have to leave the shopping to you guys,” I said.

Yanami looked at me sideways. “You’re not gonna practice in the rain, are you?”

“As much as I can, anyway. Let me give you some money to cover my portion.”

She waved her hand dismissively at me. “Forget it. I was getting bored of watching you pant anyway.”

Maybe she could buy a new filter while she was out.

Break was almost over. We started walking back to class, Komari eyeing her phone.

“Y-Yakishio isn’t checking her phone,” Komari said.

The “congrats” I’d sent had four read receipts on it. Our senpai plus Yanami and Komari.

“Some people don’t check theirs very often,” I assured her. “She’s probably talking to friends or something.”

I tried to smile. It didn’t come out very well. So I walked a little faster.

***

I pushed the table to a corner of the club room. It was after school; I’d finished changing into my gym clothes, and it was time to start on the new regimen I’d come up with last night.

First: fifty knee raises. Fifteen, though, because it was only my first day. Next were squats. But those were rough on your back, so maybe later. I could replace those with push-ups to work my upper body. Fifty of those. Eventually. In reality, I only managed about five before I was winded.

I rolled over and stared up at the gently glowing fluorescent light overhead. “God, this soreness is killing me.”

Yanami had run me ragged last weekend, literally, and all I had to show for it were weak knees and shaky thighs. I’d thought some strength training would be a good change of pace, but everything still hurt.

“Maybe I shoulda sucked it up and let Kurata-senpai coach me,” I muttered to myself. Too late for regrets.

The door clicked open. “Excuse me, is anyone in?” And in came Tiara-san.

Our eyes met.

“Nukumizu-san, what are you doing on the…?” Her hands flew down to her skirt. “What, do you peep now?! Is that your thing?! Is that your thing now?!”

Yeah, I was just laying here waiting for girls to walk in. Totally. Just because it happened to work once didn’t make me some perv.

“Relax, I can only see up to your—anyway, can I help you?”

“Oh, right. Yes. You still haven’t submitted your recruitment plans for next year. I was wondering if—okay, now you’re just staring on purpose!”

Not staring. Looking. What happened to be in my field of view was none of my concern. I went ahead and got up before she could blow a gasket, though.

She looked at me funny. “Why are you in your gym clothes?”

“It’s, uh, a long story.”

If the track team knew, no point keeping it secret, though. I gave her the short version.

“Wow.” Tiara-san’s eyes were opened wide by the end.

“I know. Me, running? Kinda crazy.”

“Not that. You’re just usually so jumpy and skittish whenever I talk to you. You never open up this much. It’s just, well, wow .”

Far be it from me to disappoint. Also, maybe I’d have been less skittish around her if she didn’t trigger my fight-or-flight reflex so often.

She thought to herself for a few moments before nodding. “I think I can be of some assistance.”

“Don’t tell me you have track experience too.”

She dismissed me with a wave. “What you’d like is someone to teach you who does but isn’t on the team, correct?”

“Do you know someone?”

“I do, as a matter of fact. I’m acquainted with a good many people, I’ll have you know.” Tiara-san’s lips formed a soft, confident grin.

There went that darn reflex again.

***

The next morning, I stood on Tsuwabuki’s athletic field clad in my gym clothes yet again. My watch read half past six. With great effort, I stifled a yawn.

The girl in front of me cut a much livelier, and more awake, figure. “Basori-kun’s told me everything. My knowledge is yours!”

Somehow, I figured it would be President Houkobaru Hibari. And I was right. She was in her gym clothes too and joining her were Tiara-san and Sakurai-kun who watched from the sidelines.

“Right. Thanks.” I bowed clumsily.

The student council president put her hand on my shoulder. “First, we’ll have to take your measure. Once you’re warmed up, I want you to run for me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

It’d only been a few days, but I’d been practicing like crazy. I was sure to see some results.

After some light stretches, I sprinted with all my heart and soul.

“H-how was that?” I wheezed.

“Sixteen-point-seven,” Sakurai-kun stoicly read off from the stopwatch.

Results not found.

The president crossed her arms and tilted her head. “I thought your best was sixteen-point-five.”

“Let’s just say I had a bad coach,” I grumbled.

“So be it. Stand up. Back straight.” She glided toward me then started feeling me up.

“H-hello?!”

“Flex. Stay still.” The president caressed my abs. Groped my back.

“Th-that tickles,” I moaned. “That’s m-my…! Hey!”

“Man up. Stop squirming.”

My man would be up in a second if she didn’t chill. From afar, Tiara-san stared, and stared hard . I did not like it nor the way she was gradually scuttling closer.

One religious experience later, the president’s examination was over.

“I’ve got a solid grasp on your build,” she said. I’d damn well hope so. “It’s very slender. Low muscle content.”

Why did Tiara-san gulp at that?

“So, is that going to inform the way I run or something?” I asked.

She shook her head. “It informs what needs to be done before you run.”

I wasn’t running? Then what was the point?

“The race is only a few weeks away. I can’t just do nothing that whole time.”

“That’s not what I’m suggesting. These first ten days, we’re going to build the muscle and stamina necessary for proper form. Running will come in the final week.”

“Is that enough time?”

“I can’t say.” She looked me straight in the eye. “All I can tell you is, this is what I would do.”

She may have been doing this as a favor to Tiara-san, but the fact remained that the student council president was going to a lot of trouble to help me for absolutely no gain whatsoever. That had to amount to something.

I met her gaze and bowed low. “Thank you.”

“Thank Basori-kun. I can’t say no to her.”

Speaking of, she’d shuffled right up next to us. And was still staring. Wonderful.

“I notice your gait is a little off, by the way,” the president said. “Does your ankle hurt?”

“A little. Figured it was just soreness.”

“Aching centralized at the ankle typically means a sprain. I’ll pass your situation on to Konuki-sensei.”

Drat. I’d been avoiding going to the nurse’s office, but no getting out of it now. Man, I really did not want to go there.

She took a seat on the ground, her legs stretched out, and patted the dirt next to her. “I’ll teach you some exercises you can do that are easy on the joints. Join me.”

“Uh, okay.”

Tiara-san switched to roaming mode and started circling us with her phone out. Was she filming us now? Her face seriously hadn’t so much as twitched since we started.

The president’s lesson went on until about half past seven.

“How is your ankle pain, by the way?” she asked.

“Only really bad when I run. Walking, it’s just a pinch.”

“I see. Let’s exchange contact details.” She took her phone out. “We’ll call the discomfort you feel now a ten. Moving forward, I want daily, numerical updates on how it feels.”

“Sure. Does LINE work?”

While we traded info, Tiara-san got the closest she’d dared to edge all day. She coughed. “So. Do you…have LINE, Nukumizu-san?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. That made the third time she’d parroted that phrase. She was either crazy, or she was trying to hint at something.

I relented. “Do you want me to add you, Basori-san?”

“Oh, sure! Why not?”

This girl. I’d never understand her. I held out my QR code, and she scanned it with her camera.

“You feeling better today?” I asked.

“Have I seemed unwell?”

“I mean, you’ve been popping nosebleeds like—”

Tiara-san puffed her chest out and interjected, “Don’t you worry about that! I drink orengedokuto now!”

“Oren-what? I’ve literally never heard of that in my life.”

“It’s a kind of herbal medicine, and with it, my nose has been utterly and completely cured of all ailments!”

Must’ve been some fancy herb, then. I wished it would fix the ailment in her brain.

***

I parted ways with the student council and made my way across the field, half watching the baseball club practice as I went. Had to go get changed in the club room. Then a full day of lessons. God…

“Dang. You looked pretty good out there.” Suddenly, Yanami appeared next to me. She was eating a banana.

“You could have come and said hi instead of stalking me.”

“I thought about it. But look.” She pointed to a tree some distance away with her half-eaten banana. Komari peered around it.

“What is she doing?”

“Too many people she didn’t know. One look, and that was pretty much it for her.”

Fair enough. The student council was, in a word, eccentric. I forced my tired legs to carry me to Komari’s tree.

“Whatcha up to?” I asked.

She stayed half-hidden behind it. “A-are they going to be t-teaching you from now on?”

“That’s the idea. They’ll be keeping tabs on my progress. Coaching me and all that.” No response. “What?”

“Nukumizu-kun just can’t stop bullying,” Yanami goaded, waving her banana peel at me accusingly.

“You were literally watching. I didn’t even do anything.”

Komari emerged and held out a bottle she’d been clutching. “I-I made this.”

“Oh, for real? I was just getting thirst—”

But she went straight past me and gave it to Yanami.

“Why, thank you, Komari-chan,” she gloated.

“I thought that was for me.”

Komari glowered in my direction. “Ch-cheater.” And then, with zero elaboration, she ran off.

“This cider vinegar stuff really hits the spot,” Yanami gloated. Again. “I see why people say this stuff’s good for fatigue.”

“Are you sure that’s not mine? Why are you drinking it?”

She shrugged, not even deigning to remove the straw from her mouth first. “Would you give it if I asked?”

“I mean, yeah.”

“That’d do it, Nukumizu-kun.”

Do what exactly, Yanami-san?

She took another big sip, then handed the bottle to me. “Here. You can have half.”

Whatever. Evil tax collector extorts local man. What else is new? I started to drink but smelled banana. So I wiped the straw, thoroughly, with a wet wipe. Then I drank. It was salty, sweet, tangy, and it sure did hit the spot.

I just wished it didn’t still taste ever so slightly of banana.

***

While working on the stretches the president had taught me that night, Kaju waltzed right into my room without a word of forewarning. She had a way of making her presence irrefutable, so I didn’t bother trying.

She plopped down in front of me. “Oniisama, have you taken up sports?”

“Just trying to get in shape. Need something?”

“White Day is this weekend. I was baking for friends and went ahead and made some treats for you.”

Already that time of year, huh? Asagumo-san was the only one I’d gotten any legitimate chocolate from, but I already knew Yanami would throw a fit if I didn’t bring anything for the club.

Kaju handed me a paper bag. I took it and looked inside. “Thanks. So what’s on the menu?”

“I’ve been on a traditional European kick lately. There’s dragée, pignolata, and streuselkuchen. I hope you and the girls like them!”

“There’s what, what, and what?”

She presented me with yet another box. “This is pitta ’nchiusa. Make sure you give it to the one who really deserves it.”

Pittan…? Like the puzzle game? Anyway, this was perfect. I could save this one for Asagumo-san.

“Thanks, I guess,” I said. “It’s a big help.”

We were already a month out from Valentine’s and that whole ordeal. All of it felt so distant now, to say nothing of recruiting new members and saying goodbye to our senpai. My race with Yakishio had quickly taken over my brain. Still hadn’t totally come to terms with the fact that it was actually happening.

“Sorry to disturb you while you’re busy,” Kaju said. “Is there any way I can help?”

“I’m about to work my abs, actually, if you can hold my feet.”

“Oh boy, can I!” As I started my set, she went on, “Sharing hobbies really is the best way to connect with that special someone, isn’t it? I’m rooting for you, Oniisama!”

“Nothing to root for. Can’t stress that enough. Also, your face doesn’t need to be that close to mine.”

“I’ve started learning how to make dresses, by the way, and I was thinking I ought to start with small things. Any ideas? Baby clothes, perhaps?”

“Might come in handy. For you. In ten years.”

Were sit-ups always this exhausting? And invasive?

I made it to thirty, then promptly collapsed.

***

Ever so slowly, dawn began to break over the city. The sun did its leisurely march over the horizon, bringing with it its rays. Fog blanketed the Toyokawa riverbed, and as Yakishio Lemon ran along it, she left a trail in her wake. She loved this time of day. That short moment between morning and night. It was her favorite time to run, her favorite air to breathe. Every breath that filled her lungs gave life to a new her.

A new day. A new her.

She jogged beneath the Shinkansen overpass, wondering just how much further she ought to go, until she saw someone on the riverbed with her. Someone small. Minuscule, even. Someone who always seemed one wrong word away from a panic attack. And yet, someone deceptively strong.

A friend. One of Lemon’s very best. Komari Chika.

She stood in Lemon’s path, as if she’d been waiting for just this moment. Lemon saw the twisted, anxious look on her face, and it hurt her heart. There was no running from it this time. All her regrets, all her guilt, now demanded they be addressed.

Lemon slowed and calmly approached. “What are you…?”

She lost the strength to finish her sentence.

“Y-you’ve been avoiding me.”

Komari was mad. Lemon didn’t need to hear the pointedness in her words to know that. The lit club was everything to her. Protecting it, her mission. Lemon was the antagonist of her story. Lemon knew what she was doing, and she was doing it anyway for some stupid, selfish reason not even she really understood.

Lemon put her hand to her chest and caught her breath. She thought the words might come on their own. They didn’t.

“Y-you’re racing Nukumizu?” Komari’s hands were in tight, white-knuckled fists.

“I’m sorry.”

She was selfish. Regret was selfish. She waited for the vitriol to come.

Komari breathed, composing herself, then calmly continued, “Y-you’ve been skipping track too.”

“Yeah.”

Komari looked up to meet her eyes. “Were you e-ever going to tell anyone?”

“Why? My problems aren’t you guys’.”

Her jaw dropped, and her mouth hung open for a while. But Komari breathed again. “Wh-why Nukumizu? Out of everyone.”

Yakishio shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know why him. I just…” She bit back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. She couldn’t cry. She didn’t deserve to cry. She deserved a lot, but nothing self-serving. Whatever came her way, she had to take it. “I’m sorry. The race—”

“Sh-shut up!” Komari shouted hoarsely.

“I’m sor—”

“Shut up! I-I’m helping you.”

“What?” Never had Lemon meant that one-word question more than now. She retreated, shaking her head. “I lied to you, Komari-chan. I betrayed the whole club. Aren’t you angry?”

“H-heck yeah I’m angry! I’m freaking livid!” Komari stepped forward. “B-but you’re my friend! If there’s something you want—you want so bad that y-you’d break a promise, I want to help you find it! B-because you’re my friend!”

She stumbled. But she found her footing.

Yakishio pulled back her outstretched hand. “But Komari-chan, I…”

She couldn’t cry. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry. She’d promised herself a lot of things. That she’d figure all this out on her own. That she didn’t mind the loneliness. But then again, clearly, she was bad at keeping those.

“Y-Yakishio!” Komari squawked. “Y-you’re crushing me!”

She was a bad person. This was her bed, and it was hers to lie in. To hide in. To cry in.

“Th-that really hurts, Yakishio!”

But right now? Right now she had to be dreaming. Maybe in a fairy tale. Because friends like this were too good for her. So she hugged her, and she cried, and she didn’t let go.

A long time went by.

Yakishio smiled awkwardly, dabbing her tears. “Look at me. Total loser, right?”

“W-we’re not competing,” Komari muttered. She cast her eyes down sadly. “I-I really think you’re wasted on Nukumizu, b-but if he’s the one…”

“Hm?” Lemon blinked. This was the second -most confused she’d been all morning. “Wait, time out. Komari-chan, I like the guy, but as a friend . I’m not into him at all.”

“Whuh?” Komari frowned and made a face. Then her eyes shot open. “Y-you’re not?! I-I mean, you’re not?”

Lemon shook her head with not so much as a shred of hesitation. “Nope. But, uh, I guess I can see how you mighta thought that. Nah, Nukkun’s just such an herbivore that I get a little carried away sometimes.” She scratched her cheek with a shy smile. “Hey, but aren’t you into him?”

She squawked and flew back. “N-no?!”

“You’re not? But you’ve totally considered it at least.”

Komari shook her head so fast she very nearly lost it. “B-because with Tamaki-senpai, it was like…butterflies. Sometimes little pangs.” She breathed deep. “But with N-Nukumizu, it’s headaches. H-he’s always getting under my skin, and he’s a-always so smug about it. So sometimes I d-do think about him a little… b-but only because he ticks me off!”

Lemon raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying you’re not into him, right?”

“O-of course not! He’s nothing like Tamaki-senpai!”

Suddenly, Yakishio threw her arms back around her. She couldn’t help herself. “D’aw, you are so adorable!”

“C-crushing me again!”

***

Friday, the last weekday before White Day. It was after school. Yanami sat across from me in the club room. I had presented her with three gift bags.

She regarded them with great reverence before nodding and opening the first. “Candy, eh? Pretty fancy too. No way, you totally bought these!” The first of Kaju’s confections was a bunch of sugar-coated almonds in assorted colors. Yanami picked one up between her fingers and examined it closely. “Maybe too fancy. I almost don’t wanna eat it. You got acrylics mixed in here?”

“No. Kaju doesn’t need acrylics or any kind of makeup to be—”

Yanami ignored me and ate one. It was clear where her interests lay. “Holy crap! I need your supplier stat!”

“They’re not all for you, ma’am.” I removed the bag from her reach.

She licked her fingers clean with pompous grace—as gracefully as one could even do such a thing—and eyed the three slips of paper with names on them in front of her. “That was the streuselkuchen. Final answer.”

“Wrong. Dragée. It’s French apparently.”

“Dang. Half points?”

In her dreams. I opened another bag. “The streus—”

“Hush. I’mma get it this time.” She grabbed the second unopened bag, peered inside, and sniffed. “By George, I’ve got it. This fried chicken-lookin’ stuff is the streu-whatever.”

“That’s pignolata. Italian. The streuselkuchen is this one.”

“It looks like skin under an electron microscope.” Flattering description of food. With a face all too unconvinced, she bit into one of the squares of cake. “I approve! You could straight up sell this too. We got us a chain going.”

The Yanami was satisfied with her White Day offerings. It was a miracle.

“I brought stuff too,” she said. “Can’t let you have a monopoly on girl power in the lit club.”

I could think of no monopoly more functionally useless. Big talk, though. Now I was curious.

She put a box of cookies on the table.

“Those are literally store bought.”

“I decided they know what they’re doing.” Who was the monopoly with now? She opened the box and munched on a cookie. “Yup. I was right. Not as good as your sister’s stuff, though.”

Fascinating. I turned my brain off. Was way more enjoyable watching her stuff her face that way.

Suddenly, the door exploded open. Usually, it was Yakishio doing that, so my heart skipped a beat, but it was just Komari.

“Good timing,” I said. “I’ve got White Day desserts.”

She didn’t budge, glaring at me. “N-Nukumizu! You are the enemy!”

So I was. “That’s cool. Anyway, Yanami-san was just trying to guess their names. Wanna give it a go?”

“Huh? I-I said…you’re the enemy.” Komari’s enthusiasm withered before my very eyes.

Yanami nodded. “We know that, girl. He’s the enemy of women everywhere. Want some cookies?”

“S-sure. I made some too.” She took a plastic container out of her bag and sat. With her sweets added to the mix, we had a regular tea party on our hands.

A while later, Yanami put away her cookies, her appetite sated, and sipped some tea. “How’s your training montage with the president coming, by the way?”

“We’re only three days in. That said, pretty well.” I didn’t mention this part, but private coaching from a pretty girl did wonders for my motivation, the Tiara-san Horror Show aside. I almost wished it didn’t have to end after the race. So imagine my confusion when I was subject to their judging gazes anyway. “What?”

“Yeah, a girl like that all over you, it’s no wonder things are going ‘well’ for you,” Yanami moaned sarcastically.

“D-die,” Komari spat.

Slander. This was slander.

“Don’t be rude to the president,” I said. “Yeah, she gets up close and personal sometimes, but it’s all to help me improve.”

The judging eyes did not waver. “How right you are. And I’m sure you, in all your dedication, feel absolutely nothing about it.”

“Look, most men, and I’m generalizing here, would feel quite a bit when a beautiful girl like the student council president gets all touchy like she does. I won’t deny that, nor the fact that I, myself, am in the demographic of ‘most men.’” I cleared my throat. “I also can’t deny that it is, in fact, not an insignificant source of motivation for me, but that’s simply a consequence of the means, not the end. My goal is, as ever, to win in the race and keep Yakishio from…”

Another sixty seconds of intense clarification later, and the only response I got to my thesis was a curt, “Do you ever shut up?!”—courtesy of Yanami.

“Okay, whatever, but all I wanna know is if you even have a shot at this,” she said.

“We’ll just have to see.”

My ankle had healed up pretty well, and we were adding more workouts to my routine. I’d even switched to riding my bike to school. With the big day just two weeks away, I couldn’t waste a single moment.

“Crap, forgot today’s report,” I said, whipping my phone out.

“‘Report’?” Yanami questioned.

“I’m keeping the president posted on my ankle strain.”

“And you send these every day?”

“Every day.”

What was her problem? In any case, I got a reply fairly quickly after my message, and she asked if I was free to come use the sports teams’ equipment. Apparently, it was available today.

“I’ve been summoned,” I said. “You guys finish up the food.”

Komari jumped up, hacking on a piece of streuselkuchen. “W-wait, enemy!”

Right. That. I’d almost forgotten. “Uh, so I guess that’s me?”

After downing some tea, Komari nodded. “Th-that’s right. I’m on Y-Yakishio’s side now.”

What? Yakishio’s side? In what context? The race? Was she insane?

“Komari, you do know what’ll happen if I lose, right?”

“Y-you and Yakishio q-quit the club.” So we were on the same page as far as that went. “But I’m still n-not gonna go easy on you.”

What the actual hell was she thinking? Was there some secret underground lit club I was unaware of and unwelcome in? Was our current arrangement obsolete?

Yanami handed a bag out to Komari. “This has almonds in it.”

“Th-they’re good.” She munched. Yanami munched. Those French treats sure were popular.

“So we’re, uh, on opposite teams now,” I repeated. “And we’re snacking together?”

Yanami offered me the bag next. “Maybe as far as the race goes, but we’re still all friends here. Same goes for Lemon-chan.”

She had a point.

While I considered the implications of all this, Komari put a little of each dessert together and wrapped it all up. “M-make sure Yakishio gets some. Y-you’re closest.”

“You want me to bring her that? To her house?”

“Don’t you think you oughta do that, Komari-chan?” Yanami said. Imagine that. Yanami agreeing with me for once.

Komari shook her head. “Y-Yakishio’s, y’know, Yakishio. She c-can’t be alone for too long.” She forced the package on me and made sure I didn’t let go. “B-but don’t forget. You’re the enemy.”

***

Sunday was actually White Day. I was on one of my daily brisk walks through the neighborhood, as prescribed by my coach. Did going for a walk really count as exercise? As long as you wore gym clothes while you did it, sure.

There was one particular house I kept passing by. In fact, I’d just done it again.

“Awkward…”

On the nameplate read the family’s name. “Yakishio.” I was supposed to make a delivery on behalf of the lit club. That wasn’t so hard, was it? Just handing over a few desserts? You’d think. But ringing the doorbell of a girl’s private residence proved an exceptional challenge for me.

Another round. But this time, I stopped in front of her house before moving on. Big things happening here. Next step: imagining myself ringing the doorbell. Slow and steady wins the race.

“Oh? Are you a friend of Lemon’s?”

I stopped. My head hung as it was, I’d failed to notice the extraordinarily attractive woman in front of me. It was hard to place her age, but she looked younger than Amanatsu-sensei at least. Her hair hung down to her shoulders, and she had the face and body of a model. And it was all very familiar.

“We’re, um, clubmates. We go to school together,” I stammered shyly. “Are you her sister?”

I didn’t remember her having an older sister, but what else could she be? Unless…

A grin quickly spread across her face. “Well, aren’t you the sweetest! Come in, come in!”

“I-I was just here to deliver something.”

What had I gotten myself into? The woman grabbed my hand and practically dragged me inside. So it was hereditary.

The woman turned around and smiled one more time. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Lemon’s mother. Mother. Not sister. Mother .”

***

Mrs. Yakishio sat on the opposite end of the living room table from me. Steam wafted from a cup of tea resting on it. Next to it, a plate of cake.

“I, er, really am here just to give Yakishio-san something,” I said.

“She’s out on a run right now. Please, have some cake while you wait.”

I’d have rather gone home. An option precluded by my host’s own enthusiasm.

I picked up my tea and sipped, eyeing her across the table. In two wrinkleless hands, she held her own cup. She was absolutely pretty enough to be Yakishio’s mom. No doubt about that. But she had to be at least forty, thirty at best.

Those clothes Yakishio had worn on her date. They’d been her mother’s. Interesting. Very interesting.

I let those feelings ferment as I placed the bag on the table. “Can you tell her this is from the literature club?”

“It was so nice of you to come all this way. What’s she like during your meetings, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Well, she usually just used the room as a separate changing room, but that didn’t seem all too appropriate to bring up right now.

“She’s…very energetic. Very talkative. And, uh, energetic.” Was I repeating myself?

Mrs. Yakishio nodded, not seeming to mind. “And? What else? Has she written anything?”

“No, not really, but she’s, uh…very fast. Very energetic.”

It was taking all my self-control to not turn this into a Yakishio roast.

“Then I’m glad. She’s had me a bit worried lately.” She took a daring sip of tea, which instantly burned her tongue. Was it wrong of me to find someone’s mom cute?

Now to find a way out of here. I casually bided my time, waiting for a good moment to start that whole social dance.

Then I noticed her staring. “Is it you?” Mrs. Yakishio muttered.

Me? Was what me?

Suddenly, footsteps came from the front door. “Mama, is the laundry dry?” As the final word left her lips, Yakishio Lemon sauntered into the living room, where she promptly froze. Dressed in little more than a tank top and short shorts, a towel hung around her neck. “N-Nukkun?! What are you doing here?!”

I wasn’t too sure of that myself.

“Just, um, bringing you White Day snacks. From the lit club,” I said.

“Oh. Okay. Um. Thanks.” She scratched her cheek, skirting her eyes around me.

She felt awkward. I felt awkward. We were all awkward here. What better time to take my leave.

But before I could make that intention clear, her mother shot up. “I think I’ll go shopping! Make yourself at home, Nukumizu-kun!”

“Mama?!” Yakishio blurted.

“No, that’s okay,” I insisted. “I was just leaving.”

As I started to stand, Mrs. Yakishio darted over and gently pushed me back down. “None of that. You don’t wanna let that cake go to waste. It’s Matterhorn. Sit, Lemon.”

“Mama!” the younger Yakishio protested again.

Her mother gave her the same treatment and seated her across from me. “Mama’s off!”

She was gone before we could get another word in. She was Yakishio’s mom all right. Complete with that utter disregard for others’ comfort, because the awkwardness was back with a vengeance. I couldn’t just leave after all that.

Yakishio gave me an exasperated look. “Just eat the cake, Nukkun.”

“Uh, okay.” I picked up my fork and sank it into the Mont Blanc, Yakishio watching my every move. Every single one. Closely. “You’re giving me anxiety.”

“I hear the student council president is coaching you.”

My fork stopped where it was. “And it’s perfectly wholesome, I’ll have you know. It’s all educational.”

“I mean, I know what coaching is. What are you talking about?” Nothing. Nothing at all. I doth protest too much. Yakishio put her hands behind her head and eyed me. “So that’s how you get your kicks, huh?”

It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. But I did not trust myself to say so without digging myself into an even deeper hole. So I shut up and ate my cake.

Yakishio hurled her towel at me. “Stole my friggin’ idea, that girl.”

“How were you gonna coach me when I’m literally racing you?” I removed said towel from my face.

She shrugged. “Didn’t trust you to actually make it much of a competition on your own.”

“Isn’t that good for you?”

“Sure, I guess, but I’m gonna win either way, so what’s the harm? Just you wait.”

Her expression exuded confidence. Confidence that suited her. Yakishio Lemon. The most confident, bold, and magnetic girl I knew. But there was more to her than that. She had sensitive sides too. Gloomy sides. Brooding sides.

Suddenly, she threw her hands on the table with a clatter and thrust herself at me.

“Yakishio?”

A hint of a smile played about her lips. She leaned further.

“Y-Yakishio?”

“Gimme a taste.”

Of the cake? Of the cake, I assumed. I clumsily balanced a bite-sized piece on my fork and held it out. She opened wide, like a spoiled princess, then ate. As I slid the fork out from between her lips, a bit of the cream stuck to her.

She wiped it with her finger. “You suck, dude.”

“S-sorry.”

What was I getting so worked up over? We’d done this before. Albeit with reversed roles. And at a café, not alone at her house after her mom had vacated the premises specifically to give us privacy.

On second thought, maybe we hadn’t done this before. I gulped.

Yakishio giggled. “Now we’re even. For Valentine’s Day.”

“Actually, that’s what the bag is for.”

“You seriously never learn,” Yakishio sighed.

“What? What’d I do this time?”

“Gimme another bite, and maybe I’ll tell you.” She shut her eyes and opened her mouth again.

“Dude.”

What was even happening? This went way beyond the role-play from last time. That time, she’d been the big sister. Had she de-aged or something? Actually, little sisters I could handle. I had experience.

I offered the fork again. Shakily, it crept closer and closer to her waiting lips.

“Neesan, your friend’s here.”

Yakishio and I lurched back. The source of the voice was a young girl, likely only a year or two away from junior high. Her hair was done in braids, and through a thick pair of glasses, she gave us both an unamused look.

“Nagi?!” Yakishio blurted. “And—”

“Yanami-san?!” I shouted for her.

Behind whom I could only surmise to be Yakishio’s little sister, arms crossed, stood a most displeased Yanami.

“Am I interrupting?” she deadpanned.

“I-it’s not what it looks like!” we said in unison.

Yanami raised a single eyebrow. “Pattern A, huh? Is that what this is?”

“Literally what?” I asked.

She sauntered over and fell heavily next to Yakishio. “Pattern A is when you’re dating behind my back. For the record, I will cringe at you while I put the pieces together in bed tonight if that’s what this is.”

Yakishio and I glanced at each other. We shook our heads.

Yanami held her head in her hands. “Oh dear God, is it Pattern B? Please, no.”

“Against my better judgment, I’ll ask you to elaborate.”

“Pattern B means I’m watching you actively become a thing in real time. You know. That nightmare I’m already living literally every day.”

The Hakamada and Himemiya-san special. Nope. Still off the mark.

“We’re not anything in any way whatsoever, so get off that train of thought,” I said.

“Yeah!” Yakishio agreed. “What he said!”

“Then someone tell me what the hell you were feeding her for,” Yanami demanded. She fixed me with two dagger-like eyes.