Miyako lied down on her bed, her eyes half closed as she swiped a drop of sweat from her brow. She knew that doing so was useless, as the rest of her body was dripping with sweat.

She sighed at the lack of motion on the part of the fan hanging from the ceiling. The room was dark with the exception of a few weak candles. Miyako could barely see the perplexingly smiling face of a dear friend of hers.

Hikari’s fittingly light blonde hair still managed to shine with minimal lighting. Her eyes were the colour of warm chestnuts and were wide with innocence.

Miyako’s smaller, icy blue eyes, by comparison, appeared cold and emotionless, and her deep brown hair almost covered those eyes, giving her the look of the grim reaper with its hood up. Her pale skin did little to prevent this appearance.

Many were surprised when they were told that Miyako was half-French whilst Hikari had Japanese heritage lasting centuries. The devastatingly effective combination of hair dye and makeup was Hikari’s golden secret.

Hikari leaned in closer, her breath skating over Miyako’s sharp nose. “So what should we do?” she asked softly.

Miyako shrugged. “How am I supposed to know? I wasn’t prepared for this.”

Hikari unzipped her shoulder bag and rummaged around the insides until she found the object that used to always bring her and Miyako together.

“We haven’t played this in a while.” Miyako scrunched her nose in embarrassment as she stared at the handheld console.

“That thing still works?” she asked. “What would we even play on it? And why did you bring it?”

“I…” Hikari’s cheeks heated up. “I thought it would be fun. Look, if you think it’s stupid, just tell me and stop delaying my feelings of… of…. heartbreak!”

Miyako giggled as Hikari lied down on the futon with the back of her hand pushed against her forehead. Hikari grabbed her console, flipped it open and turned it on.

“What game are you playing?” Miyako asked in a voice that suggested a lack of interest in the answer.

“Pokémon, of course.”

“How old are you? Don’t tell me you became an otaku before I even noticed!”

Hikari’s throat tightened and her voice became hoarse with shock. “Take… that… back!” Miyako shook her head and laughed with playful cruelty. Hikari turned away from the other girl. “You’re mean. If you really liked me, you’d play as well.”

“I don’t know where my console is. I haven’t used it in years, remember?”

“Well look for it. I don’t want to play this alone. And yes, I know that we can’t technically play together without internet, but we could still play together in spirit!”

Miyako eventually stood up and carefully explored the nooks and crannies of her room. “Where is this damn thing?” she hissed. Hikari chuckled each time she heard Miyako bump into something or swear to herself.

Miyako fumbled through her drawers in the dark but found nothing substantial. She then searched her wardrobe, where she suddenly found her handheld console, nestled next to a beanie on top of the closet’s drawers.

She pulled it out with triumph and smiled when she saw that it still had a tiny bit of charge left. Her next challenge hit her like a boulder thrown by Goliath. She had to complete a similar process to the one she dealt with a few seconds ago, this time to find the Pokémon game that Hikari was playing.

“Which version are you playing?” she asked.

“Platinum.”

She held each game found in the closet drawer up to the candlelight until she found the correct game. She sat on her bed and began playing.

“Why did I go through all that?” she wondered aloud.

Hikari smirked. “Because you love me.”

Miyako’s cheeks burnt, Hikari’s words threatening to solder themselves into her brain for all eternity.

 “L-love? Isn’t that a bit too sudden?”

“Why should it be? I love you, so why should you be any different?” The two played their game in awkward silence for the next few minutes. They both sweat through the game, the heat returning to the room as if to punish the couple. The shackles of quietness were broken by Hikari. “Which bit are you up to?”

“I’m just walking around right now, really,” Miyako admitted. “I’ve given up on playing properly.”

“Have you told your parents about us?”

Miyako almost choked on her own spit. “What? Are you kidding me? There’s no way they’d let us have sleepovers like this if they knew.”

“Well, maybe that’s a good thing. No offence, but this is the worst sleepover ever.” Hikari turned towards her girlfriend. “I guess it’s not your fault, though. When do you think the power’s going to come back on?” Miyako simply shrugged. “So…  about before…that was a weird way of reacting to my confession.”

“Sorry. But how was I supposed to act? I’m not an expert on this.”

“You said you’ve dated before.”

“Well, isn’t going out with a girl different?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never dated a guy before, so I have no clue what the difference is. So… now that I’ve given you my heart and soul, don’t I deserve a kiss?”

“You don’t “deserve” anything. I will give you a kiss, though.”  Hikari waited for Miyako to sit down next to Hikari, or perhaps pull her up by the arm until the two were in an embrace. She waited.

And waited.

And waited.

“Uh… when is this kiss going to happen? I assumed it was going to be now-”

“I’m not ready yet!” Miyako interrupted, sitting on her calves while her hands gripped the sheets of her bed. “Give me a couple of seconds. I… I don’t know how to kiss a girl.”

“I didn’t realise it was any different from kissing a guy. Look, if you don’t want to kiss me, that’s fine. I was just getting a little worried since we haven’t had our first kiss together yet. It’s been a few weeks and I thought for sure we’d be at the kissing stage by now.”

Hikari put on an understanding smile as she gazed at her lover. Miyako shook her head and slid her legs in front of her until they were dangling off the edge of the bed. She held out her hand. Hikari took it.

Their lips collided as Miyako gently pulled Hikari towards her. Miyako noticed that her girlfriend smelled like cinnamon and tasted like chocolate. Hikari must have not heeded to her advice about cutting the unhealthy amount of pocky she consumed out of her diet. Miyako had no idea where the smell of cinnamon originated from, though.

She suddenly felt embarrassed at paying such close attention to Hikari’s taste and smell, worries that she may be a creep slapping her cheeks until they became redder than ever.

She soon realised that kissing a girl was not the herculean task she expected it to be. The couple moved in what onlookers would see as rehearsed synchronicity had the two been kissing in public. The thought of doing such a thing made Miyako’s body tense up.

“What’s wrong?” Hikari asked. She gasped, her hands pushing her cheeks up. “Was I so bad a kisser that you had to stop?”

“No, uh, I was just…. I needed some air.” Hikari smiled. “Hi-chan, um… have you ever… you know… had… with someone…. I don’t even know what I’m asking!”

“Uh… yeah. I have. Why? Do you want to? I’m not ready for that at the moment. We haven’t been together long enough.”

“O-okay,” Miyako stammered. Her heart leapt in misplaced panic as she realised that her console had run out of battery. “Damn it. Can I just watch you play?”

Hikari nodded and resumed the game. Miyako sat down next to her girlfriend, wrapping her arms around her shoulders from behind. Hikari shivered from the surprise contact but relaxed into the other girls’ arms.

Miyako laughed with childish schadenfreude whenever Hikari lost a battle, resulting in Hikari angrily asking her if she’d prefer to play it. Miyako shut her mouth after that.

The duo sat in comfortable silence as the clouds gave way to a stunningly bright moon. Miyako’s attention was divided by this beautiful display of nature and her equally beautiful girlfriend.

Hikari shut the console and closed her eyes, resting in Miyako’s surprisingly strong arms. Miyako was momentarily filled with alarm but she soon became used to the light and adorable snoring from Hikari.

While Hikari was purring in contentment, Miyako softly patted her head as if she was a cat. She pondered the possibility of “loving” her girlfriend back rather than only “liking” her. The snug smell of cinnamon that enveloped Miyako’s nostrils made it clear to her that love was a potential if not inevitable label to use for her feelings.

The next level of their relationship was for Miyako to return Hikari’s love, but until Miyako’s limbs no longer became painfully rigid at the thought of telling this truth to Hikari, she was forced to settle for saying the right words by herself.

“I love you, Hi-chan,” she whispered into the darkness, a desire to keep their relationship as perfect as it was settling in her heart like soil resting over a young plant.

The electricity company must have decided to play a horrifically sadistic prank on Miyako, as the room was abruptly filled with white light.

Hikari lethargically opened her eyes. “Who woke me up?” she asked in a voice garbled with exhaustion.

Miyako chortled. “I can use my charger. Want to play another game, together this time?”

2: Isolated Idols

Hotaru smiled. “Thank you!” she shouted in English. The lights went down and she felt herself being lowered by a platform. The world around her became lighter as she was surrounded by white walls.

She turned around and frowned, deftly taking off her earrings with one hand and unpinning her auburn hair with the other after she gave her microphone to a man wearing stage blacks.

She rushed to her dressing room and, quickly and ruthlessly, tore off her minidress. “Don’t do that!” a woman wearing a tape measure around her shoulders like an open scarf shrieked. “Do you have any idea how much that material cost?”

“No one’s going to care about that stupid dress after this tour is over,” Hotaru replied in a sour voice. “They only care about me.”

The woman huffed as she undid Hotaru’s necklace. “And why do you think people care about you in the first place?”

Hotaru gritted her teeth as she stared in the mirror. Her eyes widened when she saw an antique Aphrodite figurine on the table. She grasped it and read the caption on the tag tied around it. ‘I hope you had a wonderful concert.  (•Ì€á´—•Ì)Ùˆ Ì‘Ì‘,’ it said.

Hotaru threw the figurine to the wall. “Get out, hag!” she roared at the costume designer, who simply shook her head and obediently left the room.

The teenage girl scratched the table, wondering why Kasumi had such an obsession with antique figurines. She stood up, got changed into a tracksuit and pulled a beanie over her head, finishing off the look with a pair of sunglasses.

She glided out of the building as if she was walking on air given to her as a gift from Futen himself. Her hands were then curled into fists, her breathing shallow, in barely-restrained anger.

She briskly passed the skyscrapers, the moon hidden behind bullying dark clouds. The sound of cars and the repetitive blinking of lights were familiar, but still annoying, just as most things in Hotaru’s life were.

She stopped at a building that belonged to one person, pressing the doorbell and waiting with little patience.

Eventually the door was opened by a butler, who recognised the girl and welcomed her inside, his smile just failing to hide his wariness towards the girl stomping past him.

Hotaru knocked on the door to Kasumi’s bedroom. “Kasumi!” she yelled, adding ‘idiot’ as an honorific. “Stop giving me stupid messages! I don’t need them!”

When Kasumi opened the door, she smiled, flipping her dyed pink hair back. “What’s wrong with them? I thought they were sweet! Aren’t they sweet, Mr Oshiro?” The butler nodded. “I don’t see what the problem is.”

“Do you have any idea what would happen to your reputation if someone caught you sending such “sweet” messages?”

Kasumi look down at the ground. “Do I have to be “Cool Kasumi” all the time?”

Hotaru nodded. “It’s not my fault you chose that persona.” She gave the other girl a rare smile. “Show me your best Cool Kasumi face.”

Kasumi held her head down and looked up, her eyes narrowing. “What do you want?” she asked in a cold voice. Hotaru’s heart jumped for a moment in glee, causing her to cough the feeling down.

“So why do you send those weird antique figurines?”

Kasumi shook her head, keeping her aloof expression. “I can’t tell you that just yet. You’ll have to wait until my next tour.”

“Cut it out. What’s the reason?”

“I already told you I’m not telling-”

“I don’t want to let everyone know about what you’ve been sending me, but if you insist-”

“Okay, okay! I’ll tell you… eventually.” Hotaru glared at Kasumi, who sighed. “I… I don’t really know why I send you those things. I just… I really wanted you to notice me.”

Hotaru’s smile from before had reappeared but was altered to look cruelly mocking. “Oh, I see. Sorry. I don’t date girls. Unlike you, I’ve grown up.”

She spun away from the other girl and left the house, refusing to take the time to see Kasumi’s reaction. A feeling she had not previously experienced pushed its way from the heart that bashed her ribcage to her brain. It brought the memory of what had just occurred to the forefront despite Hotaru’s attempts to ignore it.

She eventually reached her own apartment, a lavish set of rooms with white walls which were covered with promotional posters of herself. The furniture was classic in design and colour, a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, which was painted to appear similar to famous Renaissance paintings. If the rest of the room was not utterly beautiful, the ceiling would have forced her to find another apartment.

Hotaru collapsed on the cream sofa with a frustrated exhalation succeeded by a sadistic laugh. “What a weird girl.” She fell asleep on the couch with a braying horselike snore.

She woke up to her alarm, which was rested on her bedside table, preparing to put its master plan of ruining Hotaru’s calm sleeping face to work. Hotaru’s facial features were now contorted with anger. Her feet mercilessly beat the floorboards until she entered her bedroom and turned the confounded thing off.

She looked at her bin, especially the assortment of antique figures that were chucked into it. She shook her head and chuckled, the feeling from the previous night rubbing itself on her brain like a dirty washcloth.

She decided that changing her clothes would be a senseless task given the fact that she was to change soon. She simply slipped her beanie and sunglasses back on

As she stepped out into the disgustingly fresh morning she saw a hoard of fans eagerly awaiting the return of their beloved idol to their eyes.  The fanboys whined in disappointment.

“She must be inside still, right?” a girl asked. A boy shrugged his shoulders, which were tense with anticipation.

Hotaru took this opportunity to escape to the stadium. She waited until she had finally reached her dressing room to free her hair from the beanie.

“Um…w-what are you doing here?” A youthful man with a clipboard in his closed arms asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the intervi-”

“I know that, you twit! You think I don’t know my own schedule?” the man shook his head. Hotaru closed her eyes and sighed. “Where are my assistants?”

“At your house by now, Miss. They were going to pick you up.”

Hotaru gave the man a wisp of a smile, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear for unintended effect.

“Thanks.”

She pulled the beanie over her head and ran back home, where her entourage had arrived. Her manager pushed her into the house and shut the door after the rest of the team was inside.

“Where on earth were you?”  Hotaru’s manager Mrs Kurosawa barked with a ferocity that could rival Hotaru’s own.

“I made a mistake, okay? I went to the stadium thinking there was another rehearsal.”

“You mean to tell me that you weren’t trying to fix your reputation?”

“What?”

“An anonymous person who used to work for you told the press that you’re impossible to work with. I hope you’re happy. Come up with a response to the allegations in the van or… I don’t know what you’ll drive me to do.” Hotaru’s looked at the floor.  Mrs Kurosawa placed a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder, her eyes warmer than they were before. “Don’t worry too much about it. Until now you’ve kept your image under control. I have faith in you.”

Hotaru pushed the woman’s hand off her shoulder but smiled. “Thank you, comrade.”

A few hours of stylists picking which features to emphasise passed and soon Hotaru was wearing itchy clothes and sitting in a puzzlingly itchy chair with one calf crossed over another. She was somewhat used to the concentration of light on the set but these studio lights failed to deliver the excitement that being on the stage brought her.

She showed off her flawless white teeth with a smile. The interviewer was a balding man with large hands and an even larger voice.

The questions he asked at the beginning were highly typical. Not once was the controversy uttered during the beginning. Apparently the audience of this talk show only wanted to hear about favourite foods, fashion choices, details about Hotaru’s concert and other celebrities. She replied to the questions as inoffensively as possible, adding in a display of gratitude to her fans every answer.

One question, clearly added at the last minute, befuddled her. “Do you have any guilty pleasures?”

“Excuse me?”

“Is there anything you like but feel guilty about? Like a film or a type of clothing?”

“Guilty…” Hotaru’s mind threatened to break out of her skull by enlarging itself. She began to attach the word ‘guilt’ to her memory of what had taken place the previous night. “Huh…”

The girl stood up, bowed and swept herself out of the set. Her walking turned into running as she headed towards the nearest recording studio.

“She better be there,” she muttered beneath a growl. She yanked the door open with strength that frightened the passers-by. She asked the man at the desk if Kasumi was recording that day. The man nodded.

“She’s recording in Studio B right now. Have you scheduled a recording session with her?”

“Yes,” Hotaru answered with her fake smile. “I’ll see her now.”

“You musn’t. Like I said, she is recording at this moment. There’s no need to disturb-”

“Cooperate with me or I’ll make sure you never get your hands on a job ever again! Do you hear me?” The man gulped and nodded. Hotaru took a deep breath. “Sorry. I just need to speak with her now.”

The receptionist led her to the recording booth. Hotaru knocked on the window in rapid succession. “Get out of that booth! I need to talk with you about something.”

Kasumi’s face momentarily lit up but quickly returned to a new image. At that moment she was not ‘Cool Kasumi’, nor was she the sweet Kasumi she showed to Hotaru. Instead her face almost appeared grey and gaunt.

She glared at Hotaru as she stepped out of the booth, apologising to the producers of the song. The two found a corner of the building that hid them.

“This better be good, you know,” Kasumi said, bitterness stinging her usually honey-sweet words. “I have work to do.”

“Have you had any sleep?”

“Is that what you came all this way for? To ask me if I’ve slept? I think the answer’s pretty obvious.”

“Sorry about that.” Silence crept up on the two before Hotaru had the opportunity to say more. She scratched her thumbs with the nails of her ring fingers. “So what is it you like about me?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Thanks for the compliment.”

“I’m sorry. I just don’t know what draws me to you. Maybe it’s because I relate to you. Something about you seems pretty lonely. I thought we’d get along well and be able to help each other out… to, you know, feel less lonely.”

Hotaru stepped back. “That’s it? I’m not pretty? I’m not nice? I’m not funny or smart or anything like that? The only thing you like about me is a flaw I have?”

“Please calm down.”

“I’m not even lonely! I’m fine being by myself.”

Kasumi stared at Hotaru with frightening intensity. “If that’s the case, you could have told me. You could have just said you wanted to be single instead of insulting me and telling me to grow up.”

The feeling of guilt returned to Hotaru’s heart as images of Kasumi’s smile surrounded her mind like a gang of bullies. She knew at that moment that she would have to make that smile return to Kasumi’s face, and that this smile was more important to Hotaru than anything else.

She turned around and ran out of the building. She made her way to the marketplace in search of a stall that sold antique figurines. She asked several people if such a stall existed.

Eventually she found the right stall, which was run by an elderly woman whose wrinkles around her eyes suggested that she smiled on a regular basis. Hotaru began to stammer.

“U-um, what antique figurines do you have?”

“Is there anything you would like in particular?” the woman asked with a voice that cracked with eagerness. Hotaru shook her head. “I think you’ll like this.” The woman wrapped her hand around a figurine of the Japanese Buddhist goddess Benzaiten. “Something about you tells me that you’re in love.”

Hotaru frowned. “Th… that can’t be it, but I think I’ll buy this.” She purchased the item and asked if the woman had a pen. The woman gave a pen to her and Hotaru scribbled a few words on the back of the price tag.

As she walked back to the recording studio, she tried to ignore her self-perceived immaturity so that she could allow herself to remember the day she first met Kasumi.

Kasumi entered the classroom with graceful strides. The voice she used to introduce herself to the class was clear, calm and cold. Half of the classroom grew to like her whereas the others did not approve of her indifferent air.

The classroom was filled with idols of different types, mostly singers and actors. Hotaru had friends at this time but soon they became too busy to spend time with her outside of the classroom.

Kasumi began to show her true self when the two were alone in the class due to the other students’ conflicting schedules. Recess and lunchtime gave the two idols ample opportunity to talk to each other about their jobs and interests.

Kasumi and Hotaru discovered a mutual love of theology. “Do you prefer learning about Shinto gods or Japanese Buddhist gods?” Kasumi asked, passion about to explode from her excited wide eyes. “I like the Buddhist gods.”

“I prefer the Shinto gods,” Hotaru replied. The two entered a lighthearted debate over which gods were the most interesting. When Hotaru smiled whilst talking about Amaterasu, Kasumi commented on the smile’s beauty. Hotaru’s face turned as red like the traffic lights that tell a driver to stop. “T-thank you.”

Hotaru rushed to the recording booth with little care for the eyes concentrated to her. She didn’t speak this time, only handed Kasumi the figurine.

“I’m busy,” Kasumi said. “Can’t we talk about this when I’m done? You’ve messed up my timetable enough already.” She shifted her gaze to the figurine. “I never gave you this one.”

“I know. This is for you. Read the back of the tag.”

Kasumi did as she was told. Tears trickled down her eyes, a broad grin finally adorning her face once again. She wrapped her arms around Hotaru’s shoulders and held her close.

“Thank you,” she said. The tag’s words smiled upon the couple.

‘I’m sorry. It turns out I like you back.’

3: Cute Cosplayers

Takara looked at herself in the mirror with a beam that could fill even Achlys’ heart with joy. Her turquoise wig was carefully combed for meticulous accuracy. Her makeup made her look just like the character and he violet and bright blue costume was made out of the most exquisite materials her money could buy. Suddenly the hours spent working in a restaurant did not seem so gruelling after all.

She prayed that no one would make fun of her for cosplaying as a light-skinned character despite having African heritage.

She looked at the image of her favourite anime character on her laptop. “Oh,” she said. She searched her vanity table for her red pendant. She eventually found it underneath a beanie. She hurriedly fastened it around her neck as she heard her mother call out to her.

She raced down the stairs, tripping every few steps. She slammed her head in the door before opening it. Her mother laughed, placing a dark-skinned hand over her own mouth.

“Is that part of your character?” she asked. Takara pouted, entering the car at the same time as her mother. “So what anime’s this from?”

“Can’t you tell? It’s Megumi from Merry Merry Megumi.”

“How am I supposed to know that? I don’t watch the stuff. So what’s it about?”

“An angel falls down from the sky and loses her memory.  She is looked after by this nerdy girl and they both can change into magical girls. They fight the monsters made by the person who pushed Megumi from the sky. Megumi has cloud powers and the other girl has earth powers.”

“That sounds like a children’s show.”

“W-well, it is, but it’s really good. A lot of adult men watch it.”

Takara’s mother almost spit in her coffee. “Why would a grown man want to watch it?” Awkward silence filled the car. Takara peered out the window as the buildings appeared to push themselves backwards, occasionally revealing a clear sky.

The air inside and outside the car was pleasantly warm. As if Tawhiri decided that the day was too perfect to not throw some chaos into the mix, the wind outside her window blew with infuriating strength.

Half an hour passed before the car arrived at the Tokyo International Exhibition Center. Takara’s mother laughed. “Nope, there’s no way I’m going to find a parking spot here.”

Takara frowned, her chin rested in her hand, as her mother drove several blocks until she found a spot. “Bye, sweetie. Ring me when you’re ready to go home.” Takara nodded and inhaled slowly, preparing to walk all the way to the convention from the spot with heels that whichever god created her did not intend for her to wear.

“Damn you, Mum.”

She tripped over no less than three times. The third time was when she had almost reached the building. She closed her eyes and prepared for her face to hit the concrete. When her face felt no sensations, she opened her eyes and looked up.

 Her arms were being held by a girl in a similar but different costume to Takara’s. It was green with traces of gold. The girl’s wig was long, black and in a princess cut.

“Are you okay?” the girl asked in a deep and smooth voice. Takara nodded. “I thought Megumi was light on her feet.”

Takara blushed and gritted her teeth. “Well, isn’t Junko supposed to protect Megumi without asking questions?”

“That’s not official. Did you make that up?”

“Huh. I must have read a lot of Megunko doujinshi.”

The girl laughed and Takara smiled.  “So have I. Isn’t that pairing the best? That moment when Junko says that she’s glad she knows Megumi and Megumi blushes is just the cutest!”

Takara was taken aback by the girl’s sudden change in demeanour to a coolheaded young lady to a bubbly fangirl. She smiled, hoping that the girl would keep showing this side of her.

“Not as cute as that episode when the two have a sleepover and sleep in the same futon!”

“How could I forget?” The girl took Takara by the arm and began lightly pulling her into the building. “I wish the pairing was more popular. Why on earth would people support Megumi and Hotaka? He’s the villain!”

“I always thought that was weird. So what doujin are you planning on buying?”

“Lots and lots of yuri,” the girl replied with a small but genuine laugh. “Oh, we haven’t introduced ourselves, unless you want us to just call each other by our character names. I’m Tsubaki.”

“Takara.” The two shook hands.

The lines were long and the judgemental eyes on Takara made the experience tiresome, but the two new friends were able to pass the time by chatting about anime, especially yuri. “Everyone at school thinks it’s weird that I like yuri so much,” Takara said.

“What’s so weird about it?” Tsubaki asked. “You shouldn’t care about what they think. Well, I guess that’s hypocritical of me since no one else knows about me liking it. Everyone assumes I’m not into anime.”

“So what do you talk about with other people?”

“Sport, usually.”

Takara scanned her eyes up and down Tsubaki, noticing her well-defined arm and leg muscles. “That makes sense,” she whispered.

Tsubaki stared at her with an amused smirk. “Are you done looking at me like that?” Takara nodded.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Takara began to sweat underneath her costume due to the bodies pushing past her to enter lines. Tsubaki appeared to be unfazed by the rising heat of the building, much to Takara’s admiration and jealousy.

The two decided to have a food break. “Why is everything so expensive here?” Tsubaki asked as she sipped her ice tea. She tapped her fingers on the table and leaned forward so as not to spill anything on her long dress.

“Haven’t you been to a convention before?” Takara responded, taking a doujinshi from her bag. Tsubaki shook her head. Takara began reading the doujinshi in her hands.

“Haven’t you ever talked with another human being before? You’re not supposed to read when having a chat with someone.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

The two ate their food and continued to discuss the merits of magical girl anime. Out the corner of Takara’s eye was a man wearing a chillingly precise cosplay of Hotaka. She grabbed her camera and ran to the man. Tsubaki followed her, asking her where she was going and receiving no immediate answer.

“Can… Can I take a picture with you?” Takara requested. The man nodded and Takara gave the camera to Tsubaki.

Takara froze in a fighting pose. The man leaned back, his hands up in surrender. Click! The two changed their poses to Takara pointing at the man as if giving him a speech. Click! The final pose was another battle, but Takara struggled to keep balance on one leg as she pretended to be kicking Hotaka. She quickly toppled over.

Tsubaki honked with laughter before hastily covering her mouth. “I have the worst laugh,” she said softly.

Takara gave her a reassuring smile as she was helped up by her new friend. “I think it’s fine.”

The man sniggered when he saw how close the two were and suggested they take a few yuri cosplay photos together. Takara asked Tsubaki if she’d feel comfortable doing this and the latter nodded her head. Takara handed the camera over to the man.

The two girls were unsure of what poses to do. They started by holding hands and facing the camera. Click! They turned towards each other and looked in each other’s eyes, raising their hands upwards until they were at the same level as their chests. Click!

Tsubaki decided to risk embarrassment and touch the other girl’s cheek. Takara put her hand on Tsubaki’s and leaned into the latter’s hand, closing her eyes. Click!

“I’m sorry,” Tsubaki told Takara. “That was rude of me.”

“Don’t be.” The two chortled and the man remarked on how beautiful the photos were. Takara thanked the man and took the camera, taking a look at each image. “He’s right. These are really nice. Can I put them on World Cosplay? I can include you in the description if you want”

“Of course. I don’t have a World Cosplay account, though. I haven’t even heard of that site. Sorry. You can just post these photos without mentioning me.”

“If you insist. I can at least get your email address so we can chat some time, right?” The two exchanged emails.

Tsubaki heard her cell phone ring and walked outside to answer the call. Takara followed her. Tsubaki’s smile transformed into a gloomy long face faster than Hermes could deliver a message.

“I’ve got to get home. It was nice meeting you.”

The two gave each other a quick and uncomfortable embrace. “Bye,” Takara muttered. “I already can’t wait to see you again.” Her whisper died in the wind.

As Tsubaki wave goodbye, Takara stood, shivering in the now cool air, with crimson cheeks and a rapidly beating heart.

“So this is how main characters in yuri anime feel,” she said to herself, her chuckles swirling around the air with nowhere to go.

4: Thrilling Thespians Part A

Chouko joined the applause as the black curtains fell. “That was amazing!” she exclaimed to her father, who smiled.

“I’m glad you liked it. Maybe when you’re older you’ll be on the stage like that.”

“Really?” Her father nodded. “Do I get to wear the pretty costumes?”

“Of course. Which show would you like to see next week? Romeo and Juliet?”

The features of Chouko’s chubby young face buckled in disgust, her hands gripping the seats as if preparing to run away from the concept of romance.

“But that’s about love!”

“Well, some day you may fall in love and you’ll think differently about Romeo and Juliet. Remember that.”

Bzzzz! Bzzz! Chouko shrieked and sat up, batting the bee away from her mouth.       As she opened her eyes she noticed that one of her legs was up in the air.

She looked at herself in the mirror while lowering the leg. She still had bags under her eyes despite a sleep that was relaxingly long and as peaceful as the world when Kuan Ti[1] decides to take a holiday. Her cinnamon brown hair was in disarray.

Chouko entered her ensuite and splashed her face with cold water. She looked at herself in the mirror. She repeated the same four words in the hope that they will change her mood.

“I am a goddess.”  Her eyes focused on a vase of flowers standing next to the basin. She took out a red chrysanthemum and let its fragrance lightly tap her nostrils. “I am ready. A goddess is always ready.”

Chouko walked back into her bedroom and screamed when she saw the time. She ran to the kitchen, took a piece of bread, spread some jam over it and raced to school with the bread in her mouth, wishing she had time to avoid this cliché.

The sky was ominously dark, but Chouko still had hope for the day. She passed the sign that read, “Lilac Falls Girls’ Academy” and stepped inside the tall building that was enclosed by many towers and gardens. The bricks used to make the school were of considerable quality, and the gardens were lush and filled with a range of flowers from Japan and abroad.

The floors of the hallways were frequently polished and the classrooms were blessed with the latest technology. The windows were large and the walls were covered in expensive wallpaper.

Chouko greeted her friend Ran and sat next to her. “Are you ready for the audition?” she asked her.

Ran nodded. “I still have no idea what role I want to audition for, but I’m good at playing a bunch of different characters, so I’m just going to wing it.”

“Ms Nishimura wouldn’t wing it.”

“Like I care about her. And you should stop calling her that. She has a given name, you know.”

“It would be rude of me to call her Noa and… okay, we’ve changed the subject. As I was saying, it’s important that you at least look like you’re prepared.”

Ran began doodling in her notebook, a habit she had kept since middle school and had no idea why it stuck with her. She continued the conversation as if her mind was not on the drawing.

“What role are you oh so prepared for?” she asked in a sugarless voice.

“Romeo, of course.”

“Good luck with that.”

Chouko rested her head on her arms, which were flat against the desk. “You are so mean. You know that?” Ran nodded and carried on drawing. “I can play a male character. And besides, I know Ms Nishimura is going to get the role of Juliet no problem.”

“This crush of yours is going to lead you into all sorts of trouble one day.”

“It’s not a crush!”

“Whatever you say, Mr Montague. Hey, do you think the teacher’s sick? He’s late again.” Chouko shrugged, clearly paying more attention to the girl sitting at the front of the room.

Noa’s shiny brown hair was tied up in a ponytail with a red ribbon that matched the bow on the school uniform. Her eyes were always half-closed in relaxation but she was never the type to slack off. Her pale skin was the envy of the entire school population, with one exception.

Even though she tried to emulate some of her more admirable traits, Chouko never wanted to be Noa. She had something very different in mind.

The classes were uneventful and Chouko found herself staring at the clock more often than the teachers, internally recalling everything she needed to know about the character of Romeo, from his capacity to love to his immature rashness.

The end of the school day and the beginning of club activities answered Chouko’s prayers. She jumped out of her seat, grabbed her schoolbag and practically flew to the Theatre Club Room with the speed of a peregrine falcon, leaving Ran in the dust.

‘I am a goddess,’ she repeated in her head. Realising the irony of a goddess playing a male role, she changed the words in her head to ‘I am a god’.

She opened the door to the club room with an open-mouthed smile. “Hello, everyone!” she cried before immediately being pushed out of the room.

“You must keep quiet!” a high-pitched voice hushed her. “Others are auditioning! Wait outside until it’s your turn.”

Chouko sighed and slid down the wall to the ground, where she sat. Ran finally reached the room, her breaths heaving and her eyes burning with anger.

“Don’t…go…so…fast!”

The girl with the high-pitched voice opened the door and held a finger to her lips. “Shh! There’s an audition going on.”

“Sorry,” Ran whispered in a voice that sounded like a hiss. She sat down next to Chouko. “She is such a bitch.” She smiled. “Okay, I think I know which part I’m going to play. Since you’re going for Romeo, I’m going to play Mercutio. That makes sense, doesn’t it? I hope the translation is good.”

“I don’t care about the translation. Everything will be fine if I get a male role and Ms Nishimura gets a female role.”

“I don’t think a costume is going to fool her into thinking you’re a guy.”

Ran was frightened by the determination in Chouko’s eyes. “It’s worth a shot. She won’t like me if I’m just another girl. Isn’t she straight?”

“How am I supposed to know? I haven’t looked into her love life!”

“Shh!” The girl with the high-pitched voice struck again. Ran rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. She and Chouko spent the remainder of the waiting time in silence. Chouko was first up.

Her heart tried to break its own walls by slamming fear against them. She took a few deep breaths as she entered the room, her legs unexpectedly wobbly.

The panel in front of her consisted of the director, the costume designer and the assistant director. The director smiled, the costume designer eyed Chouko warily and the assistant director was busy writing things down.

“Who are you auditioning as?” the director, a senior-level student with short black hair, asked in the voice of a counsellor.

“R-Romeo,” Chouko said softly.

The costume designer put a hand behind her ear. “What was that? Your character must be loud and confident in his delivery.”

“Romeo,” Chouko said in a louder voice.

“There we go,” the assistant director said, finally putting her pen down and looking up. She held an open script out and Chouko grabbed it. “I will read for Benvolio. I want you to read from Act 1 scene 1, line 151.”

Chouko nodded. The translation was excellent for a school version of the play and Chouko was easily able to settle into character. She found it difficult to play the role of a young man but she felt she conveyed Romeo’s feelings of rejection well.

Before she knew it, the audition was over, and she was asked to leave the room. As she did a few strands of kobicha hair caught her eye.

Noa collectedly passed Chouko as if the latter was non-existent. Chouko sat next to Ran and gave her some of her confidence, acting as if she had not been treated like a wisp of air.

It was soon Ran’s turn to audition. When Chouko asked her how she went, she shrugged her shoulders and began to leave the school, Chouko following her close behind.

The next few days made Chouko feel constantly on edge, as if one bad moment during the day had the potential to destroy her luck. Ran told her to calm down again and again, but to no avail.

Chouko frequently prayed, much to Ran’s mean-spirited amusement. She brought various lucky charms to school and paid attention to horoscopes in magazines, whether it be from western or eastern zodiac signs.

A week later, the results arrived. Noa received the role of Juliet, of course, Ran was going to play Mercutio and the part of Romeo belonged to… a girl named Shun Fukui.

Chouko’s hands shook like tree branches as her plan became caesium in water. Ran’s gentle pats on the back did little to comfort her.

“Why… why do I have to play the Nurse?” she asked in a weak, coarse voice.

“Just be grateful that you go a part-”

“Of course I got a part! I’m part of the club! I could have done an interpretive dance instead of saying the lines and still gotten a role. I… failed.”

Chouko ran out of the school with all her strength, tears jumping out of her eyes as if even they did not want to be near her. Her legs grew quickly tired but she continued to run.

She found a park bench and sat by it. She considered leaving the club and joining the ‘going home club’. Life would be easier, with the exception of the fact that Ran would certainly lecture her about it for the rest of her school life.

She sighed into the breeze, whose softness and stability made her decide that it was a better idea to stick with the role and woo Noa some other way. She walked back to the school and apologised to Ran.

“Don’t apologise to me,” Ran ordered. “I’m not the one relying on you to play your role. Apologise to the director or something.”

Rehearsals began the next week. One benefit of having a smaller role was that Chouko was better able to memorise her lines in a short period of time.

Seeing Noa pretend to be in love with Shun made Chouko want to tear the innocent Shun away from the beautiful maiden and punch her so hard that she would make a hole in the ground. It took all of Chouko’s strength not to hurt someone or quit the club.

One thing that gave her resilience was Noa’s beautiful acting. Noa was absolutely perfect in delivering her lines and the fact that the two shared some scenes was definitely a benefit in Chouko’s eyes. It almost made the lovestruck girl forget that the she and Noa were both playing females, and therefore could never fall in love on stage.

“Curse my femininity!” Chouko shouted as she stood on the rooftop next to Ran.

“Curse my friendship with you!” Ran jokingly cried back.

The rehearsals ran smoothly but slowly, much to Chouko’s frustration. She began to wonder if praying to speed up this heartbreaking process would be successful.

When she put her misplaced rage aside, she realised that Shun was an excellent actress. She played the male role with a certain grace, but kept his recklessness. She even looked slightly like a teenage boy, with her short blonde hair, towering height and lack of noticeable curves.

She was very serious when not playing Romeo, her dedication and concentration visible even from a distance. ‘No wonder she got the role,’ Chouko thought bitterly.

One chilly day, Noa approached Chouko. “Um, I was wondering if I could practice my lines at your place.”

“R-R….ahem. Really?”

Noa nodded. “My place is getting pretty chaotic.”

“Don’t you have some friends you can rehearse with?”

“Not really.” These words awakened Chouko’s knowledge about Noa. Noa always spent time alone and rarely talked to others. She had a calm but fragile disposition. Her beauty made Chouko momentarily forget Noa’s shy nature and lack of friends.

“I guess it’s fine. Is today okay?” Noa nodded. “Follow me after the rehearsal finishes.”

Kuraokami must have decided that Chouko did not deserve happiness, as rain pelted down with the strength of rocks the very moment the rehearsal ended[2]. The wind shoved Chouko’s hair in front of her eyes and no amount of hair flips could rid her of this predicament.

She and Noa struggled to keep hold of their umbrellas. Chouko groaned and pouted, causing Noa to giggle. The walk home was long and silent with the exception of a few fearful gasps whenever someone almost lost control of their umbrella.

The two eventually reached Chouko’s large, traditionally styled house. Noa complimented it in her typical soft, polite voice. Chouko smiled and showed the other girl her room.

The first thing Noa smelled was the strong but pleasant fragrance of chrysanthemums. “Your room smells nice,” she said.

Posters of female idols and thespians were plastered on the thin walls. Two futons, usually slept in by Chouko and Ran, lied on the floor.

“You, uh, really seem to like female celebrities,” Noa said diplomatically, as if walking through a minefield. Chouko nodded and sat by the small table, Noa following suit. “Can you play Romeo? I always struggle with the scenes with Shun. She’s just too good an actor.”

“What are you talking about? You’re a good actor too… wait, you want me to play Romeo?”

Noa nodded. Chouko’s heart jumped up and down in joy. “Sure, I guess I can play him.”

The two read through the script. Noa’s voice was like audio glitter to Chouko’s ears, causing Chouko to losing concentration several times.

“Are you okay?” Noa asked, stifling a giggle. “I thought you wanted to help me.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s just… I wanted to play Romeo. That’s the character I auditioned for. I wanted to act alongside you.”

Noa grinned as if she had heard her favourite song. “Well, I think you play Romeo pretty well. Th-thanks for actually wanting to be near me.”

“Hey, um, do you have a boyfriend?”

“What? Why?”

“I was just wondering.” Noa shook her head. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Noa stood up. “Why would you say that? Don’t… don’t accuse me of having a girlfriend.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I…. I like you!”

Noa froze. “Please don’t say that ever again. I have no interest in girls and I honestly thought you were better than that.”

“I…I’m sorry… I just… I can’t help that I like you.”

“Well, just…. Keep it to yourself. You’re nice and all, but, like I said, I don’t like you back. Can we be friends?”

Against her better judgement, Chouko nodded. Noa bowed and left the room, giving her a small, almost cold wave.

Chouko finally allowed herself to cry.

5: Thrilling Thespians Part B

Ran stood up and patted her friend on the head as the latter leaned on the desk. The sun was blindingly bright but the air inside the classroom was cold as King Snær[1] because someone decided that the air required conditioning.

“It’s going to be alright. Don’t pay attention to Noa. She was being a total bitch.”

“Don’t say that,” Chouko replied between sobs. “She was… trying to be nice.”

Shun plodded towards Chouko. “Are you okay?” Her voice was uncharacteristically quiet.

Chouko explained the rejection to the girl, who nervously tapped her fingers on Chouko’s desk. When she heard about Chouko’s love for Noa, Shun smiled and the hollow pitter-patter of her fingers stopped.

“I didn’t know you were a lesbian,” she said in a surprisingly giddy voice.

Chouko almost chocked. “That’s one way of putting it.”

Ran laughed, staring at Shun closely. “How do you feel about girls, Shun?” Shun’s cheeks became the colour of strawberries and Chouko realised how sweet her smile was.

Ran waved her hand dismissively. “No need to answer.” Shun relaxed her shoulders. “Speaking of love, guess who got a boyfriend?”

“How?” Chouko wondered aloud.

“What do you mean, “How?” No need to be rude.”

“I meant that I don’t get how you met a guy. There’re no guys at school and we’ve been pretty busy lately. Wait… don’t tell me you’re dating one of the teachers!”

Ran gasped in shock and lightly slapped her friend’s arm. The two friends burst out into laughter. Shun released a small chuckle in an attempt to fit in with the others.

“So tell us about him,” Chouko demanded.

“He’s tall and a little shy but very dedicated. He confessed to me in the most romantic way possible. He said I was like some goddess of beauty. I’m not sure which, but who cares?”

Chouko clamped her hands together once and looked out the window. “If he was a girl, I’d fall in love with her in a heartbeat!”

“Hey, you stay away from  Ken-pyon[2]!” Ran’s usually careless appearance was sullied by red cheeks and eyes that looked down at Chouko’s desk. “Don’t laugh.” Ran came up with an idea for how to change the subject to one in which she had a modicum of power.

“Ken’s a little bit like you, Shun.”

Shun moved her gaze from Chouko to Ran, and then back to Chouko. “But didn’t Chouko just say that she would-”

“Have fun, kids!” Ran raced out of the classroom. Chouko chortled awkwardly. Shun bit her lip and turned around, sitting in her seat and praying for the bell to sound so that class could resume.

Five minutes later, Ran returned with two korokke, handed one to Chouko and moaned in disappointment. “I thought I told you two to have fun.”

Chouko shrugged and ate the food given to her. “Are thoo… reathy thor rehearthals?” she asked Shun, spitting out remnants of her lunch. Shun nodded, her cheeks still red.

A familiar face appeared. Noa sauntered to her seat in front of Chouko and next to Shun. Ran scratched her bottom teeth with her top teeth.

“Incoming bitch,” she muttered into Chouko’s ear, her disgustingly slimy breath, a concoction of many different foods, hitting her with full force.

Ran began doodling in her book again, drawing love hearts around pictures of her and her new boyfriend because even she had to express her romantic side occasionally.

Chouko wrote some ideas for stories from her mind to her notebook. Curious as to what started the silence, Shun leaned back in her chair to see what the cinnamon-haired girl was doing.

“What’s that?” she inquired as if preparing to run away at the first sign of danger.

Chouko covered her writing. “Just some ideas for plays I want to write.” Shun stood up and snatched the notebook out of the girl’s hands.

“Hmm… interesting…. How do you get all these ideas?”

“Uh, I actually base them on real life,” Chouko admitted, rubbing her hand against the back of her neck. “If something weird happens in my life, write about it.”

“Is Noa the villain in your plays?” Ran asked with a laugh drenched in spite.

Noa got out of her chair and wordlessly left the classroom. Her brows were furrowed in repressed pain as she wandered through the hallways.

Guilt consumed her every movement despite her justifications for her actions. Surely she let Chouko down easily, right?

Ran’s barely hidden words began to pierce through her like pointed knives. ‘People are just awful,’ Noa concluded after wiping her tears away.

Chouko was astonished that Noa had left school early and was thus not available for that afternoon’s rehearsal. Noa stopped attending rehearsals, and then stopped going to school.

The director’s face looked like a ghoul had  pushed her skin down it with her hands. “Has anyone contacted Ms Nishimura?” When all the answers were in the negative, the director slammed her hands against one of the desks that were moved to the edge of the room. “Why on earth did I not cast understudies? I need someone else to play Juliet.”

“Um…. I know some of her lines already since I practiced with Ms Nishimura,” Chouko told her. The director circled her eyes around Chouko’s body and nodded.

“You’ll have to do. Can you learn the rest of the lines in three weeks?” Chouko nodded.

“Maybe you should practice with Shun,” Ran suggested with a wink and a nudge. Chouko stared at her friend with a puzzled expression. Ran’s eyes closed halfway with annoyance. “You’re officially an idiot.”

Chouko alternated between Ran and Shun when it came to rehearsing lines. On some days Shun was happy to help, but on others she was far too embarrassed. Chouko did not realise that those were the days in which she wanted to rehearse the more romantic scenes.

On the walk home following one line-rehearsal she agreed to participate in, Shun saw a familiar girl with deep brown hair in a ponytail. She froze and simply looked at the girl.

She noticed that Noa had developed a new bad habit during the time since they last met. Noa nervously twirled her ponytail with her slender fingers that appeared as though they could break with the gentlest of breezes or the breath of a passer-by.

Noa finally spoke in a worryingly calm voice, so calm that it discarded almost every trace of happiness and humanity left in Noa. The girl’s one saving grace was her evergreen awareness of her guilt in the situation.

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Shun put on a smile, clenching her fists. “I’m… fine. We’re all worried about you.”

“Huh. They’re worried about a bitch like me?” Noa asked, overemphasising the word ‘bitch’. Shun nodded with a tight jaw.

“I get the feeling that Chouko’s blaming herself for your disappearance.”

“Oh. I was going to see her right now, actually. How’s the play going?”

“Good. Chouko’s playing your role, funnily enough.”

“Are you okay?” Shun’s breath stopped for a moment. Noa began fiddling with her hair again. “I guess it makes sense for you to be angry with me, but… actually, it doesn’t. You barely know Chouko. Why the sudden change in behaviour?”

“I just want to make you think twice about hurting Chouko again.”

Noa stepped closer, her cool disposition deteriorating like ice in an oven. “You don’t know the whole story! I’m not going to go out with someone I don’t have feelings for!” She lowered her voice as the guilt seeped back into her conscience. “I thought I was being nice.”

Shun sighed in surrender as she walked past Noa as fast as she could move without running. There was no way she was going to show embarrassment or fear. She bit her lip, trying to fight the potentially paralysing worry that Noa now knew her secret.

Noa stood in front of her admirer’s house, failing to combat her own fear as pathetically as the Titans failed to defeat the Olympian gods. She struggled to make herself believe that she was strong enough to throw her anxieties to the ground.

She finally decided to pass the house as if she was simply on an aimless stroll. She closed her eyes for a moment to regain her composure as she coiled her ponytail around her fingers.

Chouko was next on the long list of failures as she finally gave up on reading a book after the extremely long time of three minutes. Whenever she tried to absorb a sentence, one question burst into her mind.

‘Should I really be okay with being so friendly with the girl who stole my role?’

This thought did not achieve an easy victory when it tried to persuade Chouko, but it did reach a victory nonetheless. Chouko frowned after twenty minutes of internal debate, deciding that it would be better for her pride to only rehearse her lines alone or with Ran.

Shun attempted to approach her at school but Chouko simply smiled, her words dying in the stagnantly hot air of the classroom. Ran jabbed Chouko’s belly with her elbow.

“What’s going on between you two?”

“I… I can’t rehearse with her anymore. Don’t ask why.”

Ran glared at her friend. “Either’s Shun’s magically turned into a bitch or you have.”

“Thanks.”

Chouko acted well as per usual in her role, but something was noticeably wrong with Shun’s performance. She spoke her ‘loving’ lines in a rush, as if they were a train she had to catch or a confession she wanted to get over and done with.

Dark hope plagued Chouko’s mind. ‘Maybe if she stuffs up again I’ll get her role.’ She shook her head, disgusted by the presence of this idea in her mind.

Ran decided that enough was enough. As Shun was packing up her things, alone in the room, Ran entered the room again and held the other girl up against the wall by the collar of her shirt.

“What’s going on? Chouko’s not telling me anything.”

Shun gulped, unsure how to reply. Ran let her go. “Sorry,” she said in a voice that was half-convincing. “Did you confess?” Shun shook her head. “Why haven’t you confessed to her yet?”

Shun straightened her shirt before answering. “There’s no way I’m going to do that. She doesn’t like me back.” She felt no need to add the horrifying possibility of being seen as a replacement for Noa.

“It’s not my responsibility to bring you two together,” Ran stated harshly. “Hurry up before you completely lose her.”

Shun reluctantly nodded. She sprinted out of the school. Ran chuckled at the literal interpretation Shun had of her words.

Shun put a tremulous hand on Chouko’s shoulder, causing the latter to shriek and turn around. Shun allowed herself a few seconds to finish panting.

“Um… can we talk?”

Chouko smiled again. “I have to be somewhere.”

“Oh. I’ll make this quick, then. I… I… damn it. Words, words…. I… like you. I’m sorry.”

Chouko froze. She eventually looked down at the cracked pavement, her eyes cold. “I’m the one who’s sorry.” She tilted her head back, fire burning in her eyes to shield her fear. “I… I can never love you. You’re my enemy.”

“W-what? Why?”

“You stole my spot. I was supposed to be Romeo. I would have been fine with acting as Ms Nishimura’s love interest but since I couldn’t do that I had no choice but to confess. And look how that turned out!”

“You’re not making any sense. Is this like how Ms Nishimura reacted to your confession? Have you decided to mimic her by being so rude?”

Tears bubbled in Chouko’s eyes. Shun blinked to keep her own tears at bay. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Can I take that back?”

Chouko shrugged. “Go ahead. It doesn’t really matter what you do. I’m not going to hang out with you anymore. Imagine being friends with a role thief!”

Shun ran with the speed of Kali saving blood from falling to the ground[3], but unlike her, she possessed no godly abilities that could save anyone, let alone the world. A sense of powerlessness bashed itself over Shun’s head until she began to feel dizzy.

She stumbled home, her backpack suddenly feeling heavier than usual.

Chouko spent the final week before the show rehearsing with determination that failed to hide the fact that she was constantly fidgeting.

Shun chose to put her shame aside and practice the play as if nothing tense was occurring behind the scenes. The director allowed her and Chouko to skip the kisses but warned them that they were not able to do so during the final performance.

Noa, meanwhile, spent her time at home thinking. Her mother continuously wondered why her normally studious daughter was skipping school but decided not to press her about it in fear of making the situation worse.

Noa decided to clarify things for herself. She typed the words ‘what’s the difference between boy-girl relationships and girl-girl relationships’ into a search engine. She was surprised by the few results that were about the topic rather than the differences between boys and girls in general.

She decided to be brave and search the word ‘lesbians’. She found the Wikipedia page somewhat helpful as an overview, but thought it too clinical to give her full insight. She eventually uncovered a website dedicated to sharing stories about lesbians in Japan.

One story involved a girl who struggled with her feelings for a girl in her class but ended up liking an entirely different girl in the end. Noa cleared her history and turned off her computer. She picked up the phone, a new idea in her head.

On the final rehearsal, Shun looked outside her window and saw a detestable face below. She was granted permission to leave the building to get some “fresh air”.

“What do you want now?” she asked.

Noa lightly scratched her own arm. “I’m going to go back to school tomorrow. And, uh, I want to watch the performance. Where can I get tickets?”

“Ask the assistant director for one.”

“Can I have your number?” Shun stared at her, perplexed. Noa waved her arms about. “I don’t mean it in that way. I just… I want to help you get together… with Chouko. I thought we could come up with a plan and communicate over the phone.”

Shun took a step back. She began to turn the foot around but stopped. She closed her eyes and crossed her arms.

“Go on.”

Noa smiled.

The performance day arrived quicker than the Concorde as a sea of jet-black hair, interspersed with traces of blonde, brunette and the occasional unique colour, flooded the auditorium.

The director tried to contain her delight so that her squeals would not pounce on the audience like a pack of wolves. She hugged her assistant, lifting her off the ground. The assistant patted the other girl’s back, her face flushed with embarrassment.

Chouko was still in her dressing room, warming up her voice. She then looked herself in the mirror and repeated her favourite words.

“I am a goddess.”

Shun called Noa. “Are you here yet?”

“I’m still trying to choose which flowers to bring! Jeez, you don’t need to call me every thirty seconds, you know.”

“Sorry. Hey Ran!” Ran’s head popped into view. “What’s Chouko’s favourite flower?”

“Chrysanthemums, I think.” Shun parroted the girl’s words into the phone. The smell of such flowers echoed in Noa’s mind as if it was a sound.

Ten minutes passed. The assistant director called, “Beginners on stage!” and, an extra five minutes later, the performance began.

When scene 3 arrived, Chouko basked in a familiar, warm and almost blinding light. She could barely see her beloved audience but she could feel their presence. She knew that standing on the hard surface of the stage would eventually cause her feet to ache, but she also knew that the applause would be worth it.

She played the role with a mixture of grace and gusto, like a piece of silk covering steel.  Whenever she felt hesitant, she repeated her favourite mantra in her mind.

Noa entered the auditorium during interval. “How much did I miss?” she asked a friend, who informed her that she missed the first Act of the performance, which was actually the first two acts. The final three acts had yet to be performed.

She hurried to the backstage door, bouquet in hand, where a woman asked for her name. “I’m not supposed to be backstage, but I-”

“She’s with me,” Shun said, looking at her watch. She was leaning against the door and appeared to have done so for the past ten minutes. “Thanks. Now watch the performance. I’ll tell you how it goes after the show.”

Noa nodded and found her seat in the auditorium. Meanwhile, Shun cautiously knocked on Chouko’s dressing room door. “Is Chouko here?”

Ran opened the door and shook her head. She beamed when she saw the flowers. “Who are these for? You really are Romeo. I’ll give them to her if you want.”

“No, I… I have to be the one who gives them.”

“She getting her mic fixed. Good job on stage, by the way.”

Shun blushed but smiled, comfort loosening anxiety’s grip on her limbs. She looked in the green room and found Chouko doing just as Ran claimed.

“Hello,” was all she could manage to say. Her arms tightened again.

“Hey,” Chouko said curtly. “Good job.”

“Thanks. Um… these are for you.” She gave Chouko the flowers. Chouko inhaled their fragrance, her cheeks regaining their colour and a smile forcing itself onto her face.

“Uh, thanks. What exactly are these for?”

Shun froze. She coughed into her shaking fist. “I… kind of… like you.” She bowed her head and covered her face with her hands. “I’m sorry. I know you hate me right now and don’t want to be near me.”

Chouko grabbed one of Shun’s hands and lightly tugged it away from her face. “I don’t… hate you. It just… feels wrong to be near you since I wanted your role.” Chouko’s eyes grew until they were the size of vinyl records. “I just realised how stupid that sounds.” She covered her own face. “I’m so, so sorry!”

Shun looked to her side, unsure how to react. “So, uh, do you still dislike me?”

Chouko stroked her chin. “I’ll have to think about it. I… don’t dislike you, but I don’t know if I feel the same way about you. Can you wait until after the play? I should have an answer by then.”

Shun nodded and awkwardly shifted her body towards the wings of the stage. Her heart beat her ribcage with the strength of Kratos[4]. Her hands were still shaking, but she had a smile of hope on her face.

Chouko stepped onto the stage, trying to balance her thoughts with her line delivery, and for the most part it worked, though there were a few times in which she fumbled through her lines.

In the most tragic scene in the play, Chouko planted a kiss on ‘Romeo’s’ lips and commented on how warm ‘his’ lips were. She pretended to stab herself and fell beside the other girl. When she noticed how comfortable she felt lying beside Shun, her answer became clear.

When the curtain finally closed, Ran congratulated her on a job well done and Chouko returned the compliment, though her mind was clearly elsewhere. She grabbed Shun’s hand and dragged her to her changeroom, telling Ran to wait a few seconds.

“Sorry about all that,” she said. “I just wanted to talk in private. Um….”

“I-it’s okay. It must be hard enough having to reject someone.”

“My answer is yes.”

Shun stared at the other girl as if she had just transformed into a hydra. Chouko continued. “I… I think we should try going out, see how it turns out.” She pointed at Shun and giggled. “What’s with that face?”

Tears fell down Shun’s red cheeks. “Thank you.” She pulled Chouko towards her and held her close. Chouko pushed Shun away so that she could bring her lips to hers.

Shun smiled as she kissed her back. ‘I really am a goddess,’ Chouko thought to herself.

6: Friendly Fangirls

Sayuri was not one to keep secrets. Her family always trusted her, her friends liked her for her openness and miscellaneous acquaintances perceived her as a naively honest, happy-go-lucky ray of sunshine. Secrets did exist in her, but they were buried so effectively that no one saw her as a liar.

Mao was not one to feel like a stranger around Sayuri. The two had spent the previous year gushing about pop sensations ‘Cool’ Kasumi and ‘Cute’ Hotaru. This began when Mao saw a keychain with Hotaru on it attached to Sayuri’s schoolbag. The two were inseparable ever since.

Sayuri’s bronze hair was long, wavy and flowing. Her hazel eye salmost sparkled and her skin possessed a tan that would render any sun god envious. In her free time she wore clothes which billowed in the breeze, frequently dresses, and her uniform was always impeccable.

Mao’s almost straight black hair was in untidy pigtails. Her eyes were technically green but they appeared almost grey. Her complexion was somewhat pale but cursed with blotches and pimples. Her clothing of choice included sweatpants and loose but heavy shirts. Her uniform was often a mess, but she wore that mess with pride.

The one thing that connected the two was their love of pop idols such as Kasumi and Hotaru. They spent their allowances on attending concerts and buying merchandise.

One sizzling summer’s day, Sayuri and Mao set out to go to a concert filled with sweaty bodies and lacking in any air conditioning. There was no way they would break their promise to attend every concert featuring Kasumi or Hotaru near their area just to avoid the sweltering heat.

The concert was not to commence for a few more hours, so the friends sat in Mao’s room. The television was barely audible under the sound of the fan on full blast but the two girls were not paying much attention to what was occurring on the screen.

This changed when they saw Hotaru on the television. “Turn the fan off!” Mao shouted. Sayuri obeyed her and stared at the screen with equally open eyes and ears.

The reporter spoke of a new scandal. “I bet it’s a fake controversy like last time,” Mao suggested bitterly. “There’s no way she’s as mean as the news says she is, right?”

Sayuri shrugged and turned up the volume. The reporter continued. “Are Hotaru and Kasumi a couple?”

Photos of the two singers holding hands while on the sidewalk filled the screen. Video footage of Kasumi pushing paparazzi away with her free arm, her other arm now around Hotaru’s shoulders.

“Stay away from us!” she yelled.

Mao gasped. “The news is usually wrong about Hotaru, but they’ve got video! Weird, huh, Sayuri? Sayuri?”

She put her hand on her friend’s shoulder and pulled her towards her until the two were facing each other. Mao felt as if she had been struck with lightning when she saw Sayuri’s tears.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Sayuri sobbed into her friend’s chest, leaving Mao unsure how to react. Mao rested her hand on Sayuri’s back. “Seriously, what happened?”

“Did-didn’t you watch the news report? Hotaru’s with someone! She… she’s always been single, so why does she have a girlfriend?”

“Well, everyone’s got to have someone they care about, right? It’s weird, but it’s nothing to make someone cry.”

Sayuri pushed herself away from her friend. “Isn’t it obvious? I love Hotaru! She can’t be with someone else! I need her to wait until she meets me and then fall for me at first sight! That’s how it’s supposed to work!”

Mao’s jaw dropped. “You… you can’t be serious. You…. You mean to tell me you’re a lesbian?”

Sayuri’s eyes quivered as Mao grabbed her arms with frightening force. “We were supposed to tell each other everything, even weird things like that. And what’s up with that stupid dream of yours? Did you honestly think that you could get Hotaru to fall in love with you at first sight? Don’t be so ridiculous!”

Sayuri broke out of the other girl’s grasp and slapped the girl with such strength that it could have broken the Armour of Karna into pieces[1]. The two looked into each other’s eyes, identical guilt in their hearts. Sayuri stood up, grabbed her bag and rushed out of the room, her tears hot with rage.

Mao turned the television off and lied down on the bed she had been sitting on. It seemed cold and unloving without Sayuri’s presence, but Mao knew she had to get used to it just like she did every night in which Sayuri did not sleep over.

She began to cry as she touched her stinging cheek. She pondered whether to go to the concert at all.

Mao never knew she and Sayuri could feel such anger. The two had never fought before, so she had no idea where those vile displays of rage came from.

Sayuri continued to run until she found the convenience store, where she decided to let off steam by exploring its aisles. She stared at her sore hand and tried not to let her tears defeat her tear ducts in a battle of emotions versus spacial awareness. The tears won.

She took a few deep breaths, trying to push Mao’s shockingly harsh words out of her mind. She picked up a packet of Nine-Tailed Fox™ Chips. She bought them, ripped open the packet, ate them quickly and instantly felt more powerful, as if she could face anything.

She debated going back to Mao’s house, but her mental judge ruled that Mao did not deserve to see her again.

The next day, the friends saw each other at school, but did not speak to each other. The same circumstances occurred the day after that and the day after that as well.

Mao took that time to think about Sayuri’s feelings for Hotaru. How torturous would it have been to keep that secret locked away in her heart?

She also allowed herself to simply stare at her friend. Sayuri was definitely beautiful, which explained her popularity with boys, though Mao was unsure what kind of beauty she possessed. Was it the type of beauty that even a girl could fall for?

Mao would lie down on her side on her bed in the afternoons, wondering what would happen if she never talked to her friend again. She craved her smile.

Eventually Mao couldn’t take it anymore. She stood behind Sayuri as the classroom was emptied for the end of the school day.

“We promised,” she whispered in her ear.

Sayuri turned to face her former friend. “What?”

“We promised we would go to every Hotaru and Kasumi concert we could go to. We have to go to the next one together.”

“What’s the point? You were right. Hotaru would never like me back.”

“Then try me.”

Sayuri quietly gasped. “You can’t be serious.”

Mao grabbed her friend by the shoulders and pulled her slightly closer. “Pretend that I’m Hotaru and go out with me.”

“Why? What kind of plan is that? It’s not the same. And besides, you don’t like girls, so it’s not good for you. Why would you even suggest that?”

Mao’s throat felt dry. She let go of Sayuri. “I… I don’t know. I was being stupid. I just wanted to continue hanging out with you. Can we be friends again?”

Sayuri nodded. The two gave each other a quick but loving hug. Mao laughed as the two walked to her home. “I don’t know where that ‘go out with me’ came from. It sounds so weird. What’s it like being a lesbian?”

Sayuri combed her fingers through her hair. “I don’t know. It’s like being the same as a straight girl, I guess. Well, except for the fact that I can tell it’s going to be hard to find dates. Maybe in the future I’ll be so desperate that I’ll take your offer and go out with you. Haha! How silly is that?”

Mao nodded. “Yeah… silly…”

The two continued their daily lives as if Sayuri did not confess her love for Hotaru. To evade awkwardness Mao changed the topic of their conversations from Hotaru to Kasumi.

A frightening thought entered her mind. ‘Are idols all we have?’ The two scarcely chatted about anything else.

As time fluttered by like the heart in Mao’s chest, she decided to let Sayuri squeal over Hotaru like usual. This gave her time to have a proper look at her friend when said friend was excited over something.

Sayuri had an even more gorgeous appearance when smiling. Mao frowned when she realised this, a desire to talk about her behind her back contaminating her heart like mercury in water.

Eventually this wish was replaced with something more potent and inescapable. Mao noticed that she wanted to touch Sayuri’s hair or caress her cheek.

She was unaware of this sudden obsession until one day of indecisive weather. Lunchtime arrived, so a boy slowly and carefully headed towards Mao’s classroom. He knocked on the door, which was opened by one of Mao’s classmates.

“Um… can I speak to Ms Nishimura?”

Mao stood up. “Me?” she asked. ‘Not Noa?’ she wondered resentfully. She mentally shook her head. ‘She doesn’t even go to this school,’ she reminded herself.

One of the girls snickered. “No, there’s no way he’s going to ask her out,” she ‘whispered’ to her friend in a voice that was blissfully unaware of its volume. “No offence to her, but she’s not really that pretty.”

“Shh! She’s right in the room!” another girl hissed back.

Mao blinked a few times before exiting the classroom with the boy. “Don’t listen to those girls,” the boy said in as commanding a voice as possible given his situation.  “I… ahem… I think you’re really pretty.”

“Thanks,” Mao said with a friendly smile. The two students stopped underneath the stairs, where no one could see them.

The boy peered at the ground. “You… you don’t even know who I am.”

“Well, that is a bit of problem. I can’t go out with you if I don’t know you.”

“You don’t think I’m creepy, do you? I’ve been watching you whenever I’ve seen you. N-not in a stalker way, but… just whenever I happen to see you. I’m making everything worse, aren’t I?”

“Not really. I… I appreciate you liking me and everything, but… I don’t really see you in that way. Sorry.”

“It… it’s okay. I… I think you like someone else anyway. I… I don’t want to be in competition with a girl.”

The boy turned around but Mao grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Wait, what do you mean by that?”

“You’ve been looking at a friend of yours weirdly. It only just started happening recently. You look like you want to kiss her.”

“What? I’m not… I’m not a lez!”

“Oh. Did I get it wrong? Sorry. It just seemed like you really like her.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know her name. She has brown hair. She’s really pretty, but not as pretty as y-”

“You… you’re kidding, right?” The boy shook his head. Mao stood still for a moment, her lips tingling with yearning. “How… how did this happen?”

The boy shrugged and stepped away from the girl. “Well, uh, good luck, I… guess.” His hands were shaking but he bravely walked away.

Mao, meanwhile, felt so ungodlily weak that every movement towards her classroom threatened to make her collapse. She sat down, sweat creeping into every portion of her body.

She tapped her pen against the desk, trying not to look at Sayuri. She swore in her head multiple times and bit her nails with her free hand.

‘I’ve got to tell her, right? She deserves to know. But she likes Hotaru, not me! But she could like me back in the future, couldn’t she? So am I a lez for liking her? Am I a hypocrite? This is all way too confusing. No, that boy probably just convinced me that I like her. There’s no way I can see my best friend that way… right?’

Mao spent the next few days blushing every time Sayuri laughed or became excited about pop idols. She was torn between the part of her that enjoyed seeing Sayuri so elated and the part of her that wanted to throw Hotaru into the deepest pits of hell.

One week later, Mao was exhausted by her psychological battle. She decided that the best method of alleviating the stress was to ask her friend a complex question. She did this as the two were walking home from school. Amaterasu must have decided to retreat into a cave again, as darkness quickly fell over the town.

“Are you ever going to get over Hotaru? It… it’s not like you can like her forever.”

Sayuri brushed her hair with her hands. “Hotaru likes Kasumi anyway, right? You could fall in love with some other girl.” Mao twirled her own hair around her fingers.

Sayuri’s grip on her hair tightened. “Hotaru can stop liking Kasumi. I… I know you really like her, but I can’t bring myself to like Kasumi. Hotaru’s way cuter anyway. Why do you sound so desperate to get me to fall out of love with her?”

“I…” Mao bit her nail. “I have this strange feeling that… I might be a lesbian.”

Sayuri’s jaw dropped so much that it was as if a tiny version of Thor was jabbing it with his hammer. Anger rushed through her body like lightning.

“So… you like Hotaru too? You want her all to yourself, don’t you?”

“What? No! I like…. I like…. You really thought I liked Hotaru? I like you.” She spoke the last sentence quickly and with accidental nonchalance. “Oh my god, I actually said it.”

Sayuri put her hands on her hips and leaned forward. “How on earth was I supposed to know that?”

“I didn’t want you to know. Great, now I’ve made things awkward, haven’t I? Damn it.”

Mao swiftly turned away from her friend and ran home as fast as she could. It had been a while since her strong legs and time spent in the track club had come in handy, and Mao was truly grateful for them. Sayuri was left by herself in the deep red and navy blue sky.

When she opened the door, a rarely seen face emerged. “Noa!” she greeted her cousin.  She gave her a short but loving embrace. “What are you doing here?”

Noa flipped her hair out of her eyes and smiled. “I’m staying over while my house is renovated. How are things?”

“Fine, fine. I… I just ran away from Sayuri. How are things with you?”

Noa ignored the question. “Why? Isn’t she your friend?”

“Well, long story short, I sort of… confessed to her.”

Silence fell, eventually broken by Noa’s failed attempts at being comforting. “Oh. I-I didn’t think you were into that sort of lifestyle, but… wait, no, it’s not a lifestyle exactly, it’s… I don’t know what I’m saying.” Noa rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m kind of new to this whole knowing gay people thing. A female classmate of mine confessed to me a while back, you see.” Noa played with her hair, and Mao did the same with her own hair. “What are you going to do now?”

Mao shrugged. She mentally swore at herself. “I… I guess I better…. go back and apologise to her.”

“Sounds good. Uh… good luck. You’ve always been so close so it would be a shame if things didn’t work out.”

“Th-thanks.”

“Oh, sorry. I’m no help, am I?”

“So how should I apologise to her? And how am I going to soften the blow when she rejects me?”

“Just take a deep breath, I guess. Speak to her slowly and clearly. I know you tend to rush things when you get nervous.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you in a bit!” Mao waved goodbye and rushed out of the house. Noa held her hand out, trying to grab her cousin’s arm. She laughed lightly, mostly out of shock at Mao’s brashness.

Mao saw Sayuri stroll past her home and skipped towards her.

“Sorry!” she cried. Sayuri’s eyes somehow managed to sigh. “I didn’t mean to run away. I was just… how do I say this? I was worried. I know you like Hotaru a lot.”

“I-it’s okay,” Sayuri replied weakly. She slowly and cautiously grabbed her friend’s hand. “I like you a lot too.”

“Wait… as in…”

Sayuri shook her head. Her cheeks heated up. “I may change my mind, though. Give me some time to think about it.”

Mao’s heart tickled with happiness.  She wondered how long it would take until the angel who was constantly enriching her life would return her feelings. Sayuri’s hand was as soft as feathers.

7: Beautiful Bikers

Yasu tapped her pencil repetitively on the desk. She stared at the blackboard with half-closed eyes. She forced her eyes open with her fingers at regular intervals.

Regret punctured her spirit as she compelled herself to stand up. “Why do I have to sort out all the paperwork in the mornings?” she grumbled.

She picked up a rolled-up newspaper and slammed it against a hapless student’s desk. “Why is your uniform incorrect?” she asked. “What would the teachers say about a tie like that?”

“Shut up, Demon Eyes!” the student snapped.

Yasu inhaled and exhaled slowly to prevent herself from defenestrating the boy. However, she vowed that, if anyone called attention to her frightening red eyes ever again, she would kill them.

Her homeroom teacher finally arrived, her hair dishevelled and a single book hanging by her fragile fingers. She put on a smile that, as if with a mind of its own, completely refused to make up for her deep, gravelly voice.

“Alright, little brats. We have a new brat for you all to befriend. What’s your name again?”

A tall, solid girl flipped her wavy black hair, interwoven with red streaks, back. She bit her full red lips and began scratching her scalp with sausagey fingers covered in black leather.

Yasu did what she did best. She looked up and down the girl’s figure, hunting for examples of incorrect uniform. The girl’s bow was untied and her sleeves were rolled up. Her skirt was shackled by multi-coloured belts and her charcoal knee-high socks were uneven.

“I’m Sora,” the girl said in a voice as sour as honey, as harsh as a pillow and as loud as a mouse’s squeak.

Yasu glared at a boy who snickered at Sora’s unfitting voice, though she herself struggled to hold back her small but incriminating laughter. She stood up.

“I will show you around,” she stated.

The teacher’s eyes widened. “Oh, this is Ms Hamasaki. She will… well, she just told you. Wait until lunchtime, Ms Hamasaki[1].” She scanned her class roll and pointed to an empty desk, her head still down. “Ms Mikami[2], sit next to the boy with the stupid spiky haircut. Don’t be alarmed if he starts talking about defeating aliens with weird hand movements.”

Mrs Inazuma was known for her quips, which were as precise and devastating as lightning. She was nicknamed ‘Mrs Raijin’[3] for this very reason, though not without protests that her surname was enough of a descriptor.

Sora sat in front of Yasu, drumming her own pencil against the desk. Yasu clenched both her teeth and her fists as Sora tapped the desk erratically.

‘You’d think a girl dressed like a punk rocker would have a sense of rhythm,’ Yasu thought.

The boys in the class whispered about Sora’s edgy looks and demeanour. After all, what kind of girl would wear those accessories and wear that cold frown?

Lunch arrived like a blessed angel, hearing the prayers of most of the students and ignoring those of Yasu’s.

However, one possibility gave Yasu hope. If anyone could get to know her without judging her for her eyes, it was Sora. And with one popular friend came the inevitable end of hatred towards Yasu.

“So, uh, let me show you around.” Sora nodded mutely. Yasu strolled through the halls, informing Sora about the history of the school like a museum tour guide.

She stopped at the school infirmary and entered it, Sora three steps behind her. She waved hello to the school doctor.

“Dr Motome[4], this is Sora Mikami. She’s new here.”

Dr Motome took off her glasses and smiled, placing the glasses on top of a pile of books. “I know,” she said. “I helped her this morning. She had the worst looking hands, let me tell you.”

Sora hid her gloved hands behind her back, her cheeks like little roses as she turned her eyes towards the ground.

Yasu twisted her head towards Sora, then at the doctor, then back at Sora. “What happened?”

When Sora kept as silent as an anechoic chamber, the doctor explained the situation. “She didn’t tell me how they got like that, but she had scratches all over her hands. She was at school bright and early, which surprised me. No offence, Ms Mikami.”

Sora’s head snapped up. “None taken.”

Possibilities churned inside Yasu’s head like snow in a snow globe. Perhaps Sora had gotten into a fight or had an abusive family member. Maybe she was bitten by her own attack dog or got angry at someone and punched a wall.

Yasu said goodbye to Dr Motome and led Sora outside, noticing a black and red motorcycle parked outside. Falling off a motorcycle was added to Yasu’s list of possibilities for what hurt Sora.

Wind became a baseball pitcher that threw a leaf into Sora’s face. Yasu braced herself for the curse words that were to follow but heard none.

Sora simply smiled and held the leaf, crimsoned with the season, to the sky. “I love Autumn,” she whispered just loud enough for Yasu to hear.

Yasu grinned, seizing the opportunity. “I know, right? The leaves are gorgeous and the wind is nice and cool.”

“The sky is always beautiful at this time of year. It’s so blue and the clouds look like they’re having conversations.”

Yasu frowned in confusion. “Are you a poet or something?”

Sora gulped and shook her head. “I… I could never write a poem if my life depended on it.”

“So what do you do?”

Sora raked her hair with her fingers. Her eyes were searching the ground for words again. “I… I just ride my motorbike around the hills. I can’t do much else.”

Yasu nodded in the understanding that her assumptions were correct. Sora lifted her own chin up and looked at Yasu with eyes that bubbled with excitement. “We could go riding, if you want. I want to check this town out.”

Yasu bit her lip. “I’m afraid I don’t have a bike.”

“You can ride my bike with me, if you… want…. I’m sorry. You barely know me.”

Yasu felt an instant need to protect this trembling little puppy with fat paws. She stepped closer to the girl and lightly tapped her arm.

“It’s okay. I have an idea. How about we get to know each other on the trip around the hills?”

Sora nodded her head, the corners of her lips caressing her eyes. “I’ll meet you after school on Friday.”

The next day Sora talked to no one and put on an air of superiority as if it was a coat. Yasu approached her but all of her words were met with no reply. However, she could somehow tell that the girl was listening as she talked about school and biology. Yasu’s spiels about how redwood trees were superior to momi firs, and how she would love to visit the United States just to see them for herself, usually resulted in groans and eye rolls, often accompanied by the words, “Shut up, Demon Eyes!”

A girl whose eyebrows were pencilled in an intimidating shape walked over to the two. “So, Sora, is it?” Sora nodded. “You can call me Miki. My friends and I were wondering if you’d like to join us.”

Sora’s voice was shockingly cool and smooth. “I’m already hanging out with Ms Hamasaki.”

Miki chuckled. “What does Demon Eyes here have what we don’t?”

“Demon Eyes? But her name is Yasu Hamasaki.”

“Well, yeah, but everyone here has nicknames. I’m Eyebrows and you’re Nico Robin. Have you seen One Piece?”

Sora glared at her. “Does Ms Hamasaki like her nickname?” She turned her head towards Yasu, who shook her head. “Then she shouldn’t be called that. Her name is Yasu Hamasaki.”

Miki shrugged but her eyes yearned for murder.  She walked away from the pair. Yasu grinned.

“Thanks,” she said. Sora squeaked and looked away, refusing to speak any more. She rested her head on her desk, looking like a lion having a nap. Yasu pet her, combing her fingers through her hair. “So are we still going to ride around the hills?” Sora nodded.

Friday arrived so quickly that it was as if that day rode to Yasu on a motorcycle. She woke up uncharacteristically fresh-faced, her dream compelling her to smile.

She and Sora were riding around the hills on a cloud. The sky was tinged with pink and purple and pastel orange. For the first time in her life Yasu had let herself go and allowed her hair to flap in the wind like a flag. She had rested her head against Sora’s back, breathing in the girl’s cinnamon-laced hair.

Sora had parked the bike on the side of the road and thrown her legs to one side, looking up at the sky. She had held Yasu’s hand and rested her head on her shoulder.

“I… I think I love you already,” Sora had said, her voice flittering in the wind like leaves.

The more Yasu remembered her dream, the more confused she felt. Why did her mind decided to concoct a dream that used the word ‘love’ rather than ‘like’? Surely she was intelligent enough for her brain to make that distinction, even in her dreams, so why was that word used?

Yasu laughed at her own stupidity, muttering words of abuse under her breath. “Idiot. You’ve only just met her and now you’ve gone into lesbian mode. Great job, Yasu. What if she finds out and thinks you’re a creep?”

Everyone at school assumed that she felt no attraction to anyone; that she was in love with school rather than any person. Her parents held the same belief and were even proud enough for it. She couldn’t bear to tell them about her attraction to her old homeroom teacher, or the girl with the shiny hair at the convenience store, and she would never ever talk to them about her lingering feelings for the drug junkie who spent most of her time on the roof at school before graduating the previous year.

Yasu stood up and hurriedly changed, her mind slapping her thoughts away. She ran to school so fast that when she reached the gate she tripped over.

At first she felt nothing as her cheek pressed against the concrete. At the next moment, she howled in pain.

When she was unable to find words between her sobs, a boy picked her up and dashed to the infirmary. Sora was there, the doctor brushing her scarred hand with her fingers.

Yasu was laid onto the bed and smiled when she saw her new friend. “Why…” she swallowed her tears and was finally able to speak. “Why do you… have those scars?”

Sora released a high-pitched yelp as she stood up. “N-no reason.”

Yasu giggled as if she were intoxicated. “You haven’t been abused or anything, have you?”

“What? No! I… I just….” Her face looked just like a button used to sound an alarm. “Dogs don’t like me.”

Yasu peered at the rotting ceiling. “That’s good. Well, it’s not really good since animals are hurting you, but at least people are treating you okay.”

“What happened to you?”

“Oh. I tripped over. It’s silly, isn’t it? You know, I have a reason to be up this early, but what about you? You’re not part of any clubs, are you?”

Sora shook her head. “I like going to school early. It makes me feel prepared. Do you want a drink of water?” Yasu dismissively waved her hand. “I hope you’re still able to go riding with me this afternoon.”

“Of course!”

“Good. Um, are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting strange. Um, I don’t mean that in an offensive way! You just seem… awfully calm.”

“I honestly don’t know what’s come over me.” Yasu pulled her eyes towards the girl who had haunted an otherwise simple and wonderful dream.

Yasu was as quiet as Sora during the school day, afraid her dream would spill into her words, so the two ate their food in silence. Throughout the duration of class time Sora tapped her desk with her pencil, but by this stage Yasu was used to and even welcomed it.

By the time Yasu had completed her duties as class representative, the sunset from her dream had surrounded her like a warm yet frightening blanket. Sora had patiently waited outside, picking her teeth and searching for an explanation for Yasu’s behaviour.

“Hi, Sora.” Yasu’s voice was her attempt at remaining calm. Sora’s eyes widened at the informal use of her name. “It’s, uh, really nice today, isn’t it? The sunset’s so… pretty.”

Sora shrugged with a smile on her face. She tossed a helmet to Yasu and geared herself up for the ride. She beckoned for her friend to join her on the motorcycle.

“Do you need my jacket? I think it’s going to get pretty cold today.”

“Don’t you need it?”

“I… I guess you’re right.”

Yasu shrieked when Sora sped the bike out of the school, tightening her arms’ grip around the girl’s waist. Sora’s hair did not carry the scent of cinnamon, but it did smell of chlorine.

‘No skills my ass,’ Yasu thought.

When the bike glided on the road, Yasu sighed. “See?” Sora asked. “It’s not that bad.”

As leaves flew into her hair, Yasu felt as if the goddess Akibimi[5] had decided to punish her for sullying her season with a homoromantic dream.

Despite this thought, there was no denying that Yasu loved the feel of Sora’s large back pressed against her cheek, or the sweet, thrill-laden laugh that escaped Sora’s perfect lips.

“I wish autumn was all year round!” Sora cheered. “Can you see how awesome this sky is, Yasu? I feel so free!”

Yasu almost chuckled at her friend’s unusual behaviour. The thought that she only acted this way in front of her gave her comfort.

The next sensation was unexpected. She felt a bump against her, followed by the swerve of the motorcycle. She then felt the harsh reality of concrete.

“Oh my god, sorry!” a young, masculine voice, called out. “Are you two okay?”

Sora whimpered a yes. Yasu nodded and pushed herself up, her legs wobbling with pain. The next sight devastated her. The gas tank was scratched and the mirror was shattered.

“Why are you crying?” Sora asked as she stood up. “It’s my bike, not yours.” Her words are what made Yasu realise that tears were painting her face. Sora wrapped her arms around her and pulled her close. “It’s okay. I can buy more parts and fix it. It’ll be good as new.”

Yasu sniffled in Sora’s chest, realising how well-endowed her friend was. She punched herself in her mind, chastising herself for being so perverted.

Another voice slapped her ears. “Dude, I had no idea those two were lesbos!” Sora lightly pushed Yasu away. Yasu realised that the voice belonged to the boy who always called her ‘Demon Eyes’ whenever she told him to correct his uniform. He was sitting on his own motorcycle, wasting petrol.

“We’re not like that!” Sora spluttered. “We’re just friends and Yasu would never behave like that! She’s a good person!”

Yasu burst into tears yet again, Sora’s words bashing her heart. “How… could… you say… that?”

“What?”

“I’m a…”

She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and ran along the pavement that encircled the hill. Sora followed her.

“What’s going on? You’re a what?”

Yasu kept as quiet as Harpocrates[6]. Sora’s voice rang in her ears, clearly trying to be loud. “Come on, talk to me.”

Yasu froze. “I’m a bian,” she murmured.

“What? I can’t hear you.”

“I’m a BIAN! A lesbian! Just leave me alone and go hang out with some girl who only likes boys!”

“But… you’re so well behaved! How can someone who’s always telling people off have those feelings?”

“I’m a hypocrite, okay?”

Sora held out her hand. “Well, we can still be friends, right? I’ve been friends with worse.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I know this girl who takes a lot of drugs. She works at the bakery.”

‘I want to be a baker when I get out of this stupid school,’ the drug junkie at her school once said. Yasu almost choked.

“What does she look like?”

“Well, she’s got this dyed blonde hair and these bright green eyes-”

“Can I go to that bakery with you some time?”

Sora nodded. She gave Yasu a quick embrace that made the latter almost liquefy in her arms.

The pair did not talk about sexualities for a few weeks. They just acted like normal, with Yasu going on rants about trees and Sora keenly listening as per usual. Sora stared at her with strangely warm eyes that also looked tormented.

Yasu was always too busy to go to the bakery before it closed, much to Sora’s disappointment. She had preparations to make to ensure that all of her classmates were ready for Sports Day. Some days Sora sat and watched her do work with an amused yet sympathetic smile.

One day Mrs Inazuma walked up to Yasu and ruffled her hair. “You work too much. Have a break.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Yasu asked.

“Hell if I know. Hang out with one of the other brats like a normal girl.”

Yasu finally agreed. She asked Sora if she could go to the bakery with her. Sora beamed and gave her a hug, but quickly pushed herself away.

“I’m sorry. Does that make you feel weird?”

“What are you talking about?”

Sora’s cheeks turned pink and she looked down, holding her schoolbag against her legs like a nervous first-grader.

“Well, you’re a… what do you call it? A bian?”

Yasu shook her head. “It’s fine.”

“Good. I want to show you my newly improved bike.” Sora took her hand and pulled her towards the carpark. “Tada!”

“Um… what’s different?”

Sora pouted. “Don’t you see that the paint’s a darker colour and I changed the mirror?”

“Uh, I guess so. You know more about bikes than me.”

Sora handed her a helmet and the two hopped onto the cycle. Yasu relished in the familiar feel of Sora’s back.

The bike swiftly reached the bakery. Sora almost leaped into the shop, Yasu giggling behind her.

Yasu’s throat tightened when she saw the drug-pockmarked face of Mizu[7]. She felt as if she was drowning in memories, but she knew she had to see her again and receive some closure.

“How are you? I haven’t seen you in so long! It’s nice to-”

“Who are you?” Mizu asked. Yasu clenched her teeth in shock.

“I used to always hang out with you at school. It’s me, Yasu.”

“I’m sorry. My memory’s not what it used to be.”

Yasu’s face turned as white as a flag of surrender. “Oh. I see.” Sora turned to her, confusion acting like toothpicks prying her eyes wide open.

Yasu’s own eyes were shining with repressed tears. “Well, it was nice to see you again.” She turned and slowly, hesitantly walked out of the shop.

Sora grabbed her arm. “What’s going on?”

“I was so stupid. Why did I think she’d still care for me? Why did I think she’d love me back?”

“Wait… love, as in… love?” Sora’s voice was tinged with a bitterness Yasu did not understand. “Well, you don’t need her. You have m…”

Sora scratched her scalp. “Sorry. I’m being weird. Forget about it.”

She sat on her bike and asked her friend to join her. When Yasu wrapped her arms around her waist, Sora coughed.

The two rode in silence, Sora’s joy gone and replaced by, well, she was unsure what feeling replaced it, but she knew that she didn’t like it.

“Yasu?”

“Yeah?”

“How did you find out you were a bian?”

“Well, I just felt attracted to other girls.”

“So how did you realise you were attracted to them?”

“I just knew. My cheeks would heat up around them and I felt like if I said the wrong thing the ground would open up and swallow me. It’s a worrying feeling, but seeing the other person smile makes it worth it.”

Yasu gasped when the motorcycle stopped. Sora parked on the side of the road and jumped off the bike. She threw her helmet to the ground.

“What’s wrong with me?”

Yasu’s eyebrow rose. “Can I guess?”

Sora spun around. “Can I…” She pushed her palms against her eyes, her shyness getting the best of her. “Can I hug you? I want to figure something out.”

Yasu smiled in affirmation. Sora pulled her towards her and cried over her shoulder. “I knew something was wrong. I… I’ve only known you for about a month, but… I don’t know, I guess something happened.”

Yasu drew circles on her back with her fingers. “You can say it.”

“I… like you,” Sora said softly in her friend’s ear.

“Say it louder.”

“I like you.”

“I don’t think even bats can hear you. Come on.”

“I love you!” Sora sobbed. “I love you, I love you! Why? You’ve put all this ‘bian’ talk in my head and confused me!”

Yasu broke from the embrace. “Can I… kiss you?”

Sora gulped, her entire face red. “Is that… okay? I… I’ve never kissed a girl before.”

“Neither have I.”

Yasu’s heart felt more like a subwoofer than a heart as she slowly and awkwardly leaned towards Sora. She pressed her lips against hers and it didn’t take long for her to kiss her back.

They fumbled for a rhythm, Yasu remembering that her friend was horrible at keeping to a beat. Eventually the kiss was smooth and easy for them.

Sora ended the kiss. “That was… nice. Thank you. Um, are we going to bother telling everyone at school about this?”

“Not if you don’t want to. Then again, I’d like to show my first girlfriend off.”

Sora choked and looked away. “Shut up!”

Yasu sat on the gravel, her back resting against the motorcycle. When Sora joined her, Yasu wrapped her hand in hers. The shorter girl let her head fall onto the tall girl’s chlorine-hair-covered shoulder and closed her eyes.

“You’re so cute,” she told Sora, her heart steady as the light beyond her eyelids dimmed and the stars poked through the windy sky.

8: Generous Gymnasts

Chiyo took a deep breath before running towards the spring board. She attempted to focus even with a gang of eyes bullying her with their presence. She jumped on the spring board and leapt to the first bar, spinning around it like a wheel. She turned her body around at different angles as she went round and round the bar. She performed a handstand on the bar before whipping her body towards the second bar.

The next thing she felt was vinyl slapping her face as she crashed onto the mat. She had not reached the second bar.

Her coach helped her up. “Not your best, though I’m sure you know that.” he said, writing on a piece of paper attached to his clipboard. He twisted his head towards the line of girls waiting to run to the springboard. “Next!”

Hoshi ran so fast it was as if she was sprinting, but with no noticeable exertion. She pushed her legs against the springboard and, with legs as straight as planks of wood, jumped perfectly to the first bar. Her movements were quick as she altered her grip on the bar and spun around it so many times that the journey to the second bar was as graceful as it was effortless.

She landed as if she had been standing there the entire time. The parents gave her a round of applause. Chiyo clenched her teeth.

The coach wrote down some more notes. “Your form is good, but your handstands are over too quickly. In fact, the entire routine is performed too fast.”

“Yes, coach,” Hoshi said in her nasal, high-pitched voice. She smirked at Chiyo before tightening her dark green ponytail and brushing past her with the airiness of a ghost.

Chiyo began fixing her own black ponytail and, avoiding her parents glance, ran to the back of the line for another practice.

When the session ended, Chiyo noticed a homeless man sitting beside the door. His lips were chapped and his messy hair covered his young face as he pulled his blanket towards his nose.

‘What a pain,’ she thought as she moved past the man, wondering why no one had bothered to shoo him away from such a prestigious place.

The next sight that scratched her eyes was that of Hoshi kneeling down and handing the man two 1000 yen notes.

“I hope this helps.”

Hoshi stood up and realised that Chiyo was standing there. “Why haven’t they shooed you away?” she asked her.

“Excuse me? I’ll have you know that I was about to give that man more money than you did.” She rummaged through her bag and pulled out three notes worth 1000 yen each. “I think you’ll need this amount of money much more, Sir.”  

Hoshi scowled at her. “Really? You’re making a competition out of generosity?”

“And what if I am?”

Hoshi grinned and chuckled. “Fine. We both have one month and whoever’s the most generous wins.”

“Who will decide that?”

“We’ll tally up what we did and we’ll get the coach to decide what actions are worth more.”

“But he likes you! That’s not fair!”

Hoshi shoved her hands in her pockets. “I guess we’ll never know who’s more generous. What a shame. I was looking forward to pounding you into the dust like I usually do.”

Chiyo growled. “Then it’s a deal! The coach decides at the end of one month. You better not lie.”

“Why lie when I can do?”

Chiyo inhaled slowly, as if preparing to perform another routine. She held up her hand and waved her rival goodbye with a passive-aggressive smile before walking home with her parents.

She had a feeling that Hoshi would play dirty, so she needed to make a plan to catch up. She slammed a piece of paper against her desk and wrote furiously.

“Let’s see… there’re tourists who don’t understand Japanese and need to find the way to the temple. What else? How about that elderly woman who never has enough money to feed the birds? There’s also that girl who keeps getting picked on at school. What a great start! Soon I’ll be the most generous girl in all of Japan! Hahaha…. Hahahahaha!”

Her mother stood straight up against the wall outside her daughter’s room, trying not to be seen by her.

“She’s gone mad,” she whispered to her husband. “Has the failed routine finally made her crack? I told you she shouldn’t have become a gymnast.”

The next day, Chiyo put her plan in motion. She stood outside, waiting for a tourist to approach her. Minutes passed, then an hour.

Chiyo fidgeted with her hair, her clothes, her fingers and anything else she could to pass the time. ‘I bet Hoshi’s already done her first good deed,’ she thought bitterly.

“Excuse me,” a man spoke in English with a strong Southern American drawl. Chiyo turned around and saw an overweight, dark-skinned tourist with a mobile phone in his hand and another hand in the pocket of his gaudy yellow shorts.

“I don’t speak Japanese, but…. where is the temple? Tem-ple.”

Chiyo grinned at him. Her mind danced wildly as she comprehended the man’s words. ‘I bet Hoshi didn’t learn English at her prissy all girls’ school.’

“The temple is, uh, around that corner to your left. If you keep going past that red building you should find it.”

The man’s bright blue eyes were wide with astonishment. “You know English?”

Chiyo nodded. The man thanked her and ambled to his destination. The girl ticked off the first item on her list and ran to the park, banknotes in hand.

She sat on the bench next to a woman with short, curly grey hair and bright brown citrine eyes. She shook her hand, passing the notes.

“I hope you can buy some birdfeed with his.”

“Why thank you, Miss. You’re very kind.”

“I know.”

The woman frowned and stared at the girl like she had grown a hand on top of her head.

Chiyo jumped up, feeling like Kwan-yin[1], and rushed to the middle of the town, where many homeless people lived. She handed each of them coins accumulatively worth at least 2000 yen.

“I am the nicest person in the world,” she sang in no pre-existing melody. Before she could pat herself on the back, her eyes picked up a dark emerald colour.

Hoshi was giving the homeless people 3000 yen’s worth of money. She also handed a little girl a toy rocket. The little girl responded with a hug.

“How did you-”

“It’s all about taking the time to get to know people. She’s wanted a Super Turbo Rocket for months but her parents couldn’t afford it. Why don’t you actually pay attention to what people want instead of running around like a maniac?”

Chiyo blinked, forgetting to mention her knowledge of the bird-watching lady. “You’ve been watching me?”

“Anyone with half decent eyes can notice someone as much of an eyesore as you.”

“I’ll… I’ll show you!”

“Like you did yesterday when you fell on your face?” Hoshi rotated away from the fuming teenage girl and, laughing like a noblewoman, promenaded to a bakery to buy a loaf of bread for a sick family.

Chiyo looked down at her list and decided that the next course of action would be to buy some flowers for her next door neighbour.

She forked over the money and received a beautiful bouquet of lilies. She started to run, but remembered her enemy’s words. She walked as if moving in slow motion, her mind screaming abuse at Hoshi.

She eventually arrived at her next door neighbour’s home, a small and shoddily built wreck that stood, or leant as the case may be, in stark contrast to Chiyo’s own expertly built mansion. She remembered years ago when the house was also grand, but as money began to slip out of the owner’s fingers she had a smaller one built, refusing to move to another block of land.

She knocked on the door, part of her afraid that it would collapse, taking the rest of the shack with it. It was opened by a woman with a crooked smile that revealed several gold teeth.

“What’s going on?” She asked in a thick Osakan accent. Chiyo presented the flowers to her. “Oh… thank ya kindly, but… are you sure you want to send that kind of flowers to me? I mean, they’re lov’ly and all, but they are lilies. You don’t, ya know, harbour any feelings of the puerile kind, do ya?”

Chiyo’s cheeks lit up like the top traffic light. “N-no! I was just trying to be nice!”

“Oh. Well, like ah said, thank ya kindly. Come in, come in.” Chiyo followed her to the kitchen, where the woman made her a cup of tea. “Ah’m sorry ah don’t have enough money to make tea in a fancy way no more. Ah hope this’ll suffice.”

“There’s no need,” Chiyo said apologetically, waving her hand in opposition. “I don’t think I can take anything in return.”

“Why not?”

“Well, um, you see, there’s this competition between me and this other girl to see who’s the most generous.”

 The woman frowned. “So that’s the only reason ya were being nice to me.” She pushed the bouquet against Chiyo’s chest. “Ah don’t want ya charity. There ain’t no point in being nice if it’s just to beat someone else at somethin’.”

“Fine,” Chiyo snapped. “I’ll take this somewhere else, then.”

She stormed out the door. She hated that woman, but she hated Hoshi even more. She hated that stupid shiny hair of hers, those perfectly toned legs and those beautiful glossy lips that begged to be punched, or something like that.

“Thinking about me, huh?”

Hoshi was casually leaning against a wall, wearing her typical sneer. Chiyo finally realised that she was muttering Hoshi’s name.

Hoshi stepped closer, her rosy fragrance almost shoving Chiyo to the ground. “Are those lilies for me?”

“Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about, dipwad.”

“Ooh, I’m scared. Someone just called me a ‘dipwad’! How crude.”

Chiyo put on a smile. “I’ll have words even more crude for you once I win this competition. Now, if you don’t mind, I have some generous acts to fulfil.”

Hoshi grabbed her arm and pulled her close, catching a whiff of her apple-scented hair. “Don’t think you can beat me at this. The only thing you know how to do right is pick good shampoo.”

Chiyo huffed and tore her arm away from Hoshi’s grasp. “What’s up with her?” she wondered aloud, her heart disobeying her by beating loudly at the comment about her shampoo choice.

She ran home and placed the lilies in a vase.

The next day was a school day, so she decided to befriend a girl whose weight and shyness made her a social outcast.

“Hi, there,” she said, her eyes sparkling.

“H-hi,” the girl said, eyeing the Chiyo’s lunch.

“Keiko, is it?” The girl nodded, too nervous to insist on being called by her surname. “Mind if I sit next to you? I’m sure you have plenty of offers, but this could be fun.”

“Leave me alone.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re just going to pick on me, aren’t you?”

Chiyo batted her eyelashes. “I would never dream of doing such a thing. I only want to be your friend. You seem cool.”

“What’s cool about me?”

“I… like your hair. It’s so fluffy. Can I touch it?”

“I guess.”

As soon as Chiyo’s hands made contact with Keiko’s hair, Keiko blushed. Her eyes darted about and her breathing became shallow.

“Are you okay?” Chiyo asked in the most soothing voice she could. Keiko nodded. Chiyo’s eyes were graced by a little hair that stuck out of the top of Keiko’s head. She gently stroked it and Keiko immediately stood up.

“I-I think that’s enough.” The girl’s voice was hoarse.

Chiyo nodded her head. “So what are your interests?”

“Well, uh, I like fishing and hiking.”

“Really? I never pegged you as a hiker.”

“I come from a whole family of campers. You should meet them sometime.”

Keiko continued to chat, or, rather, monologue, about camping and fishing. Chiyo stifled a yawn, reminding herself of the importance of befriending this girl.

She had heard many a rumour about Keiko attempting suicide. It all lined up, what with her being bullied and the added rumours of an abusive family. Chiyo wasn’t sure what to think about the allegations, but she as sure as hell was not going to ask Keiko about it now.

When lunch ended Keiko grimaced then smiled. “It was nice talking with you.” ‘At me,’ Chiyo thought. “Do you want to hang out after school?”

“Sorry. I can’t. I have gymnastics practice.”

“Of couse. See you later, then.”

Gymnastics practice was intense that day. Because of her recent failure her coach was increasingly strict with her, forcing her to do warmups for longer than everybody else and making her stay after practice to do some balance work. Seeing Hoshi smile maliciously at her before exiting the building made her want to throw the balance beam at her.

“You must lessen that fiery spirit of yours if you want to keep balance,” the coach instructed. “Is something on your mind?”

Chiyo lied with a shake of the head. “Then there’s no excuse. Do five handstands on the bar. Then you can go.”

Chiyo groaned but complied. When she was finished, she raced out of the building and plucked a rose from the garden outside, giving it to a passer-by.

When she saw that Hoshi was standing in the moonlight, she almost screamed. “Why the hell are you still here?”

“I need to find out what pleasant acts you have gotten up to, don’t I?”

“You sound more like a stalker than a normal rival.”

Hoshi gulped, her eyes wide and her cheeks pink. “I-Is that so? That was completely unintentional.”

Chiyo pointed to her. “Ha! I managed to make you flustered about something. I finally win a conversation against you!”

Hoshi sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “You know, not everything’s about winning. Maybe I’m flustered because you noticed something about me.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Hoshi turned her head. “You wouldn’t understand. You know, I was worried when you had to stay back. I thought maybe you’d be kicked out, or worse.”

“You’d like me being kicked out, wouldn’t you?”

“What’s the fun in that? We’d stop being rivals and… I wouldn’t be able to see you again.”

Chiyo’s heart pounded in her ears. “I have to go. More generous deeds and all that.”

“Yes. Of course. Good night.”

Weeks passed and the lilies began to wither, but Chiyo had no idea what to replace them with, especially since they were so beautiful at first.

She listened to Keiko’s boring talks about fishing and received a little thrill every time she moved closer to her and forced a blush to cover the girl’s cheeks like a rash. She had no idea why but it was so entertaining.

One cold day Keiko stopped her rambling and looked Chiyo in the eye. “What about you? You must have plenty to talk about when it comes to gymnastics.”

Chiyo scratched her chin. “Well, hmm…. I’m not really good at it. I mean, I used to be, but there’s this girl, and…. I can feel her staring at me and it’s distracting. I can’t concentrate and I mess up.”

“You must like her a lot.” Keiko’s voice had a stinging quality to it that almost made her sound angry.

“No, I hate her. She’s always there, making me feel like crap about myself with stupid remarks until she actually compliments me for once, and then I don’t know what to do. It shocks me and makes me feel this horrible warmth. I hate it.”

“Sounds like l… Anyway, heheh, have I told you the story about when Grandpa got the hook caught in his shirt?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” The bell rang. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Chiyo lightly touched her arm, smiling at the blush on Keiko’s cheeks. “Say, do you want to hang out after school? I’m thinking of going shopping.”

“Of course! I’ll meet you at the gate.”

When the day ended, the two friends met and began their stroll to the shopping district. Keiko was happy to try on clothes, but for some reason she felt uncomfortable sharing a dressing room with Chiyo. Chiyo chalked it up to her shyness.

“Gorgeous!” she exclaimed genuinely when Keiko pulled the curtain and revealed herself in a short pink summer dress.

“Do you really like it?” Keiko began fiddling with the straps. “I would love to buy it but I ran out of allowance.”

“I’ll buy it for you.”

Keiko’s mouth widened in a smile, showing off her beautiful teeth. “Thank you so much! I’ll pay you back.”

“No need. This is a gift from me.”

Keiko hugged her tight. When she noticed what she was doing, she backed away and her eyes rolled around looking for the appropriate words.

“You may as well wear it now,” Chiyo suggested. “Just take the tag off.”

When she bought her friend the dress, she grabbed her hand and tugged her outside, still holding her hand as the pair wandered through the district.

When Hoshi saw the two girls, she bit her lip in a scowl. Her eyes looked like war shields, her teeth swords.

“What have we here? What a wonderful couple. It really warms the heart, seeing a couple of lesbians take a romantic stroll through town. It’s so sweet it makes me sick.”

“Shut the hell up, Hoshi,” Chiyo barked. “We’re not a couple.”

“I thought for sure you’d want to make this girl feel special. You should plant a generous kiss right now.”

“You really think kissing someone’s generous?”

“Of course it is. If they like you, what’s a kinder gesture than a kiss? It would result in an instant win.” Hoshi had no clue why she was letting Chiyo do something she knew she would hate to see her do. Competition had the ability of making her change her priorities faster than a first-year university student. There was also the possibility of testing her feelings.

“Fine! I win!” Chiyo pulled Keiko close and planted a quick kiss on her lips. The last thing she was expecting was for Keiko to kiss her back, running her fingers through her coal black hair. As soon as she felt a tongue against her lips, she pulled away, wiping her mouth.

“What? Why did you… what the hell?”

Keiko stared at her with tear-filled eyes. “I… I’m sorry. I just… things got out of hand and I… I really like you, and I thought you liked me too.”

Hoshi finally allowed herself to smile, pushing back her own tears down her throat. “How adorable. You only befriended her to get back at me, didn’t you, Chiyo dear? And now she’s fallen for you. If only I had tear ducts. This is a real tragedy, if you ask me.”

“Is… i-is what she saying true?” Keiko asked, sniffling away her tears.

Chiyo’s voice cracked. “Well, yes, but… I didn’t think you’d fall for me. I didn’t even know you liked girl-”

Slap! Keiko glared at Chiyo, then at Hoshi with comprehending eyes, before she scampered away. Chiyo touched her cheek and glared at Hoshi. “That was low, even for you,” she said.

Hoshi laughed. “I’m the one being low? At least I didn’t pretend to like someone just so I could win a competition. Every person I’ve befriended I’ve genuinely liked. It seems like I’m going to win the competition, unless you can come up with something big before tomorrow.”

“Watch me, you horrible piece of-”

“Now, now. No need for bad language just yet. You haven’t won.”

Hoshi flipped her hair back and strutted away from Chiyo, who for some reason felt like the gods were punishing her.

Hoshi allowed a single tear to escape from her eyes. “You idiot,” she muttered under her breath. “Why do I even bother with you?”

The lilies had by then completely withered. Chiyo sat at the dining table and stared at them. Her mother offered to change them but Chiyo, for some inexplicable reason, screeched at her to leave them alone.

The girl spent the night flicking the flower corpses and reliving the day until she eventually fell asleep. When she woke up she knew she needed to do something to fix this.

She got dressed in some new clothes and dashed to the shopping district. She entered a gift shop and bought a keychain of a little gymnast that was smiling and in the midst of twirling her ribbon. It cost her 1500 yen, but she knew it would be worth it.

She moved out of the shop in a daze, stumbling to the gym like a zombie. After this she swore that she would apologise to Keiko, and perhaps she would let her continue their friendship.

But all that mattered was the girl in front of her. Hoshi gave her a small smile, her raised eyebrows touching each other. The two simultaneously presented their gifts.

“I… I didn’t go shopping specifically for you,” Chiyo claimed. “I just happened to see it and thought of you.”

“Same here. I don’t care about you. Heck, I don’t even like you, but given how sad you were yesterday I thought you needed a little pick-me-up.”

Chiyo opened the box and found a keychain of another little gymnast, this time blue instead of pink and holding a ball instead of a ribbon.

She, for reasons only the gods would know, felt ecstatic when she saw the glow on Hoshi’s face as she opened her gift.

“We’re insane, aren’t we?” Chiyo said.

“Yep.”

“Could we… be insane together at the movies or something? It… it could be fun.” Both girls’ cheeks were redder and warmer than they had ever been. “You’ve been awful, but, for some reason I can’t hate you anymore. Maybe it’s because you’ve also made me happy and got me fired up for things.”

“Same. Does that mean the competition’s a draw?” Chiyo nodded. The pair walked into the gym together.

Meanwhile, Chiyo’s mother replaced the dead lilies with fresh new roses.

9: Overjoyed Otaku

Beep! Beep! Takara shut the alarm clock off. She groggily opened one eye and shrieked when she saw the time.

She dressed herself with the speed of Idaten[1] despite fumbling for the fasteners. After tripping over the carpet mat underneath her bed she hobbled towards the kitchen.

When her hand met the cool sturdiness of the kitchen bench, her smile was as maniacal as it was triumphant. She made herself some toast and decided that the best course of action was to put in in her mouth and eat it on the way to school.

The race against the clock to her destination was made more exhilarating by the toast’s constant reminder of her similarities to many anime characters.

The word ‘Dojikko’ repeated inside her head until she reached school, then reality set it. No one at this school described her that way.

The way people looked at her made it clear that, behind her back, they would call her either an annoyance or a freak.

A list appeared in her mind of acceptable topics of conversation: fashion, school, boys and…. sports. Images of Tsubaki’s strong legs invaded her mind, her memories scattered ofuda[2] in the temple of her mind.

Takara had not seen Tsubaki, the girl she had met and quickly befriended at a convention, since the day they met. They had exchanged emails, but for Takara it wasn’t enough. She contemplated praying to any god who would listen to let her once again see that beautiful and kind girl. She would do anything to discover where things between them would go.

“How many times did she trip over on the way here?”

Takara turned around and saw a group of girls in exemplary uniforms. Their perfectly tied bows and expertly ironed skirts were almost as impressive as their muscled arms and legs.

Takara scanned each girl, her hope getting the better of her, until she recognised a girl with dyed blonde hair and peridot eyes.

She leapt towards her. “Hi! It’s so great to see you!” When Tsubaki frowned and shifted her eyes away as if trying to protect herself from a horrible sight, Takara’s smile faltered. “Don’t you remember me? It’s Takara, you know, from the convention? I was dressed as Megumi and you were Junko. We had so much fun together and-”

Tsubaki cut her off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh. You are Tsubaki, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes, but I don’t know how you know that, because I don’t go to conventions. I’m not some sort of crazy otaku.”

Takara scrunched her eyes, as if when she opened them the harsh words would disappear. A girl with a fluffy orange ponytail chuckled.

“Wow, she must be some crazed fan or stalker or something. Do you feel flattered or freaked out?”

Takara escaped into her school, just barely noticing that Tsubaki’s eyes were half-closed in dejection. She took a piece of paper containing the other girl’s email address and hurled it to the ground in frustration.

“Damn you, you… you… hypocrite!”

‘What’s so weird about it?’ Tsubaki had asked her with regards to being an anime fan.

“I wish Junko had really died in the final episode when that monster nearly ate her alive!” Takara yelled, earning many a confused glance from other students. “How would that feel, Tsu-baka[3]? You would have dressed up as a dead girl, and you would have been the crazy one!” Her voice lowered to a tear-choked whisper. “If our relationship is dead, then the relationship between our favourite characters should be dead as well.”

Takara spent lunchtime chatting about popular topics, but the raised eyebrows and awkward smiles suggested that everyone knew she was a fake.

“I’m a hypocrite too,” she muttered when class resumed.

That night she received an email from Tsubaki, apologising for the incident that morning and explaining her hesitance to out herself as an anime fan.

Takara almost laughed at this. ‘At least you won’t have to out yourself as something else,’ she thought. ‘Or…. Huh.’ In her mind, a gust of wind blew away some of the ofuda with her memories inscribed on them, leaving one behind.

Tsubaki was a yuri fan, just like her. Did she also like girls?

Takara sighed happily at the possibility, but mentally kicked herself for not realising that she liked girls sooner. Surely her choices in anime were a sign, right?

She typed up a response to the email.

‘Why are you a yuri fan?’ she asked.

Tsubaki replied. ‘I don’t know. When I was little, I thought lesbians in anime were gross, but as I grew older I saw how cute their relationships were and even started supporting relationships between girls in anime who weren’t couples. It just happened gradually. Something about their relationships seems sweet and innocent.’

Takara gulped. Nights of dreams following the convention proved that her feelings were not entirely innocent. ‘Do you like girls too?’

‘No. Real-life relationships between girls aren’t as cute as those in anime.’

These words bubbled in Takara’s brain as if they were in a kettle. Her entire body felt hot with anger and shock. She desperately wanted to escape this furnace of rejection.

She turned off her computer and groaned. “Well that’s it, then.”

The next night, the two decided to meet in secret so they could discuss anime together. Part of Takara wanted to reject Tsubaki’s offer and never see her again. However, her conscience reminded her that it would be cruel of her to end a friendship just because the other person did not return her feelings.

Their meetings were both heavenly and painful for Takara, who desired to kiss Tsubaki more and more each day.

“Are you okay?” Tsubaki once asked. “Your face is all red. Do you have a fever?”

Takara released a tiny squeak, refusing to admit that her friend’s proximity to her was making the situation worse. She nodded to say that she was fine.

She changed topics. “So, um, did you hear about the remake of Merry Merry Megumi they’re going to make? They better keep the relationship between Megumi and Junko close.”

It seemed that the only thing Takara could do to escape awkwardness was to talk about anime. Was this all she and Tsubaki shared?

“I had no idea!” Tsubaki replied, drowning Takara in a false state of delusion before she realised what her crush was talking about. “That anime does need an animation upgrade, but I can’t help but be worried that they’ll mess up the characters. What if they try to make it darker and make Megumi some sort of antihero? She’s too cute to do evil things!”

‘You never called me cute when I was dressed up as her,’ Takara remembered sullenly.

For some reason this was the last straw. Takara stood up. “I… I’m sorry, but… I can’t hang out with you anymore.”

“W-why? Did someone spot us?”

Takara’s fists were so tight that they trembled. “No, but… this is too painful. I want to be your friend, but then I’m reminded that we’re just that- friends.”

“What?”

“You never call me cute, or hold my hand, or kiss me or anything! It’s like you said. Relationships between girls are cuter in anime than real life.”

She ran out of the coffee shop, angry tears penetrating her tear ducts like an invading army. Tsubaki sat, dumbfounded, trying to piece together what had just been said.

A man put a warm hand on her shoulder. “I know what that’s like. Sometimes you think it’s fine to be afraid of intimacy in relationships, until she dumps you.”

Tsubaki glared daggers at him. “We weren’t in a relationship. I didn’t even know she wanted to… kiss me!”

That night Tsubaki decided to visit the website she frequented to read yuri manga for free. She slowly breathed in an out before turning the ‘anti-Not Safe for Work’ filter off.

When morning arrived and she was travelling to school with her friends, she was unusually quiet. She felt disgusting for what she had done and couldn’t bring herself to talk in fear of it accidentally spitting out of her mouth.

She noticed Takara tripping over a rock on the pavement and fought the urge to hold her close and help her up.

‘Now you’re convincing yourself of something that might not even be true,’ she told herself.

At home she decided to rid her mind of her confusion and worries by drawing. However, each drawing ended up being of either Megumi or Takara herself.

“If only cupid wasn’t so cruel,” she murmured. “He’s driving me insane.”

Before she knew it, her room was littered with drawings. She separated them into piles based on the character and the focus of the drawing, keeping pictures of Takara’s eyes away from those of Takara’s hair.

She pushed the piles into a corner, causing them to look almost like a shrine to Takara. “Damn it. Why am I so obsessed? This isn’t just love anymore. It’s downright creepy!”

She turned her computer on and was surprised to see a message. ‘I’m sorry about earlier. I was being selfish and made things awkward for you. Can we be friends again?’

Tsubaki had the feeling that if she didn’t tell at least one person about her new obsession, she would not only regret it but would also fall into a downward spiral of insanity.

‘I don’t think we can be friends again after that. Sorry, but the things you said in the coffee shop really stuck with me. I think you’ve somehow turned me into a lesbian.’

‘How does that work? I don’t think you can just turn someone into a lesbian. Maybe you’ve liked girls all this time.’

Tsubaki grit her teeth in courage and determination. ‘But I haven’t. I haven’t had romantic feelings for anyone except for you.’ She considered erasing the last few words before sending the email, but some instinct in her gut stopped her.

Takara bounced off her revolving chair and collapsed onto her bed, pushing a pillow against her face as she squealed. After a good two minutes of squealing and dancing, she finally replied.

‘It’s the same here. I’ve liked you since the convention and I was surprised when I noticed it. So should we start dating or are you not ready for that?’

‘I don’t know. Dating you sounds nice but who am I going to tell? I haven’t even told my parents that most of the anime and manga I’ve bought are yuri! And I go to an all girls’ school, so I’m sure everyone will be uncomfortable around me.’

‘Well, I don’t want to date in secret. The idea is too exhausting. I did just come up with a plan to help us come out, though.’

She outlined the plan and told her friend and possible lover to see her on the way to school. ‘Bring your friends,’ she ordered.

The morning’s wind was not the only thing that chilled Tsubaki to the bone. Her teeth were jittering and her mind was being attacked by negative possibilities.

“What’s wrong?” the girl with the ginger hair asked her. “We don’t have any tests today, do we?”

Tsubaki shook her head. “You’ll find out,” she creaked like a door being opened.

Takara, as part of the plan, tripped over near the gate. Tsubaki shivered as she walked up to her and grabbed her hand.

“Are you okay, beautiful?”

Takara blushed. “O-onee-sama!” she cried. Tsubaki cringed at this term of endearment. ‘Why do I have to be the onee-sama?’ she wondered. ‘We’re the same age.’

“Onee-sama?” the redhead asked in a voice that held back laughter. “I didn’t know you two were sisters.”

Tsubaki closed her eyes and put on the air of the coolheaded love interest. “We may not be sisters but our bond will last a lifetime.” She turned towards Takara and held her hands up to their chests. “She is a sweet girl whose clumsiness only serves to make her beloved by all. I’m worried that I won’t be able to keep her for long. Don’t you agree, Kisa?”

The redhead blinked quickly, trying to make sense of the events placed before her. “You two are acting like the characters from a yuri anime…. n-not that I’d know anything about that. I… I have a friend who’s into that stuff.”

Tsubaki’s heart leapt. “There is no use in denying the beauty of two girls’ feelings for each other blossoming. It is the same in both the fictional realm and in reality.”

The rest of Tsubaki’s friends stared at the couple like they had transformed into giant monsters. One girl asked how long they had been together and why they didn’t tell the group.

It was Takara’s turn to talk. “Like I said, we met at the convention. Tsubaki loved talking about anime with me and we formed an instant connection. She does not feel comfortable talking about something with you that you do not understand. Because of this, she kept her love for both anime and me a secret. Isn’t it adorable? Does your heart not jump for joy at the romanticism of it all?”

“You two are joking, right?” another girl spat.

Takara shook her head but was unsure how to prove the truth to this girl. Tsubaki took the initiative.

She caressed her lover’s cheek and smiled when Takara touched the hand placed on her cheek. She leaned in and kissed her tenderly.

All of the girls except for Kisa contorted their otherwise beautiful faces into a frown. Kisa simply blushed and looked away.

“I can’t believe we did that,” Takara whispered into Tsubaki’s mouth.

“I know. I thought we would wait for the third date or something.”

The couple squeezed each other’s hand before letting go of each other and giving the other a farewell.

Tsubaki’s smile lit up the sky when she realised that her friends were still talking to her despite their disgust. She knew Takara was a genius when she used the method that made Tsubaki begin to accept love between two girls.

Takara, meanwhile, had sorted all of her memories in her mind’s temple, leaving it clean and open.