Archive of Our Own ^beta

ONE. WEIRD

It was true that it began with something she heard from Eiko, but Makoto didn’t like the implication that she only thought of Eiko as a go-between for the student body– or, worse, some kind of informant. Eiko’s very nature made that a ludicrous thought. She seemed oblivious to hierarchy, and wholly unintimidated by any show of power. Makoto, who was always painfully aware of where exactly she ranked in every order, found it baffling and surprisingly refreshing. At first, she had almost resented Eiko for it– for the easy pace at which she moved, a pace Makoto could never seem to match– but quickly she’d become thankful for the way Eiko was unfailingly kind and always returned the kindness that was shown to her.

That, and Makoto never needed a reason to be with Eiko. When someone always seemed to expect something from her, it felt nice to talk just for the simple sake of talking. Eiko had mentioned the restaurant– “Cloud Nine”, it was called–  of her own accord when they were having lunch at school.

“But some people, y’know,” she added, reaching over to try and tear off a piece of Makoto’s melon bread for herself, “are saying they’re also selling things there. Weird stuff. Behind the table or behind the counter or whatever it’s called.”

“That would be under the table, I think.” Makoto gently swatted her hand away and picked up the whole thing to give her. “Weird stuff?”

Eiko accepted the bread with a grateful smile and shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t really know.”

“Cloud Nine… I have heard the name. It’s frequently visited by Shujiin students, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, all the time. Their cupcakes are really good!” Before Makoto could say that wasn’t what she meant, Eiko was already continuing. “But it’s really a kind of place that couples go.”

“Couples?” said Makoto.

“Mm-hmm. If you want to eat there, it’ll be kinda weird to go on your own. Oh, you should let me set you up with somebody, Makoto! Please?” It wasn’t the first time she had asked.

Makoto smiled at her and sighed. “Again, I appreciate the thought, Eiko. But I’m fine.”

After that, it had taken a lot of effort to ferret out more information. At Shujin, whispers were loud and idle students spent too much time spinning stories. Listless discontent and hazy stasis easily gave way to gossip– anything to fill the void. So no one should have been able to escape the dense fog of rumor, but somehow, it always seemed to evade Makoto. At best she’d hear snatches of conversation filtered so thoroughly before they came to her that they were substanceless: vague presumptions that could just as easily be truths as lies. A lack of hard facts always made her too nervous to act on any information she obtained, and uncertainty stalled her, time and time again. She was the student-council president, but she was painfully aware of how little she knew about her own school.

She persisted with questions and strategic eavesdropping– a method she knew from experience not to underestimate– but even then she learned nothing more. All she heard were repetitions of Eiko’s vague epithet: “weird stuff”. Alcohol? It made absolutely no sense for a small business to sell to minors in secret– it’d be more trouble than it was worth. Drugs? Far-fetched, and the rumors would have been more specific.

It was probably nothing. It seemed ridiculous. But Makoto knew she was out of touch. Was it for her to say what sounded real and what was obviously untrue?

This was usually the point where she would let it rest, but there was something in her, some part of her that was silly and stubborn and wanted so badly to–  

She went to the restaurant, after school that day. It was near Ichigaya, a little outside of Shinjuku’s main thoroughfares. The restaurant faced the street, so she was able to stand on the sidewalk and look in through the window, as passerby moved around her in droves, hardly sparing her a passing glance, like she wasn’t even there.

Like Eiko had said, it was certainly a date spot. Cutesy, without any hint of something sinister.

Boys and girls were sharing tables, in docile matching sets. Standing there by herself, Makoto awkwardly shifted her weight from foot to foot, felt disastrously and overwhelmingly older than everyone, and then thought of Eiko, who hadn’t been single since she’d started junior high. It seemed very clear, suddenly, that this was somewhere she did not belong. She spent another moment looking past the glass before giving up and making her way home.

TWO. TRUST

She had a meeting to attend the day afterwards. Makoto arrived early to the student-council room, but the vice-president was already there. More accurately, he was just outside the door, speaking easily to a girl Makoto recognized as belonging to the class below hers.

“So you see,” she heard Akechi saying as she approached, “I really am flattered. But I already have someone I like.”

No one was paying attention to her, so Makoto was free to scowl.

“Is it– it isn’t Keiko, is it?” the girl asked. Her voice was shaky, but she stood without trembling, possessed by a confidence Makoto couldn’t help but admire, in a way.

“Ah,” Akechi said. “No.”

“Th-then– Nanami? She likes you, too, you know, but I thought–” The girl looked away and seemed to shrink. “I thought just maybe–”

Akechi shook his head, firmly, and smiled politely at the girl. “I’m sorry– really. But I have business to attend to, now, so…”

The girl didn’t reply, only standing there with her head down, and Akechi sighed. “Please, don’t take this to be a personal insult. And thank you for your honesty.”

And with that, the conversation, as far as Akechi was concerned, seemed to be over. He turned to look at Makoto for the first time and gave her a smile. It was the same placating expression he’d used on the girl, and Makoto found that this annoyed her. “Niijima,” he said.

“Akechi,” she replied. She stepped towards the door to the room and pulled it open before gesturing for him to come in. He entered with a nod of thanks. Makoto hesitated before following him and looked back– the girl was still there. She was pretty, Makoto noticed, with wavy hair and glasses. She raised her eyes to meet Makoto’s. Her expression indicated that she was between flustered rage and tears. Makoto quickly looked away and stepped inside, closing the door behind her.  

Akechi seemed different inside the room, loose-limbed and relaxed as he sat back in a chair, absently pulling at the tie he wore underneath his Shujin blazer. Outside his back had been as straight as the wall and he’d held his arms stiffly by his sides. She had thought he was speaking easily, with that girl, but now she saw suddenly that this was untrue– it was clear that he had been uncomfortable. It was about power, probably, thought Makoto, or something similar. It was just that in this room, Akechi knew exactly where he stood.

“How are you, Niijima?” said Akechi.

“Just fine,” said Makoto, taking her own seat. “And you?”

“I’m well, thankfully.”

They were set to commence work, a simple, mindless matter of filling out reimbursement forms to deliver to the principal’s office. Someone had opened the blinds in the room, and light streamed in through the windows as Makoto and Akechi quietly checked boxes and wrote signatures on the pages. Students who didn’t belong to any clubs were visible, too, as they left the school building, eager to end their days and make their ways home.

“So,” Makoto said after some moments of silence. “Can I take it that you’ve finally fallen for one?”

“Pardon?” said Akechi, blinking. He looked up, tapped his pen against the table.

“A girl,” Makoto clarified. “You told that second-year there’s someone you like.”

“Oh– that?” Akechi paused before chuckling. “I wasn’t telling the truth. It was just something to get out of the conversation. I hope you don’t think less of me for it.”

Makoto was fairly sure that Akechi couldn’t care less about what she thought of him, but she said nothing.

“I’d been considering saying something like that for a while,” he continued. “There are a number of people with, ah, misdirected affections, you know…”

Oh, a number, thought Makoto witheringly.  

“...so this seemed like an efficient way to turn them all down at once. Gossip spreads quickly. I’m sure she’ll tell her friends, and then it’ll be common knowledge that I’m not… available. So to speak.”

“What if someone wants to know who it is?” Makoto said. “I’m sure people will press you for a name.”

“Like you’re pressing me right now?” Akechi asked, and grinned when she frowned at him. “People may speculate, but after a while they’ll forget, and if anyone asks again I can say it was merely a passing fancy.” Akechi leaned back, and his mouth, which had relaxed into neutrality, turned up a little at the corner again. “I’ll be able to avoid their requests, and at the same time I may even rise in their esteem. Because I’ll be so loyal to this mystery girl, you see.”

It was so easy to be rankled by Akechi, no matter how endlessly Makoto tried to keep calm. The way he was sought to control every aspect of how he was seen, so methodical and detached, was infuriating. And there was a flaw in his reasoning. “Until every girl who has an interest in you assumes she’s the one you like, and you’re handed confessions in droves.”

“...Well,” Akechi said, laughing a little. “I suppose I’ll just have to hope that won’t happen.”

“Pardon me for my candor,” Makoto said, and as happened far too often, the words came out before she had a chance to filter them. “But do you even– have an interest in girls? In… that sense?”

And there was a sight she had so rarely seen before– Akechi, caught off-guard. For a moment, he said nothing, until his eyes slowly narrowed, and she knew she had made a mistake.

She regretted it as soon as she said it, even before Akechi replied, as cool as ice, “I did think you had more sense than to ask such a thing without the requisite sense of tact, Niijima.”  

“You’re right,” Makoto murmured, feeling abashed. “I’m sorry. Feel free to forget it.”

“Hm,” Akechi said. She waited for him to hit her with a scathing comment, one of his barbs that always stung, but then he said, “Actually, can I ask how you came to that assumption?”

She looked up, and he only smiled at her. “I’d just like to know.”

Makoto couldn’t think of a good answer. “I don’t know, I– maybe it was just something I sensed.”

“Could it be because you’re the same way?”

Makoto’s head shot up. “You mean–”

But it was obvious what Akechi meant. With such a mild tone, too. Like they were discussing the weather, or the volleyball club’s recent losing streak at tournaments. She composed herself. “How about I ask you how you came to that assumption?”

Akechi smirked, forgetting to be subtle, like he’d been waiting for the question. “The requests from clubs.”

Makoto wrinkled her nose. “What about them?”

Akechi leaned forward to rest his chin in his hands, expression morphing into a falsely-docile smile. “The members always pester us with unreasonable demands, don’t they? For space, equipment, events... You turn down all of the ridiculous requests made by men, but as soon as a girl asks for something– no matter how impractical– you give her your full attention.”

“I– hardly know what you mean,” Makoto sputtered, after a moment of shocked silence. Had she really been acting that way? She tried to remember the last few times they had been asked for allocations and assess her own behavior, but the fog of embarrassment clouded her judgment. This wouldn’t do, not at all. She was supposed to be impartial.

“You don’t have to look so distressed,” Akechi said, sounding amused. “I doubt it’s really affected your performance. It’s just something I observed.”

“...Well,” Makoto managed. She could feel how red her face was.

Akechi seemed like he was waiting for a response. She hardly owed him one. But–

No one else had ever asked her such a thing, about her sexuality. She had agonized to herself, sometimes, over how obvious it seemed, but it was as if no one ever even considered it to be a possibility. The only person she’d ever told was her sister, years ago, to an accepting, if somewhat confused, reception, and they had never spoken of it again, as far as Makoto could remember. Makoto wasn’t sure if Sae even recalled that instance.

But to deny it now, after Akechi had put words to the suggestion, now that it felt as if it had a physical presence in the room, seemed impossible. So she swallowed and said, “Since it seems you’ve already confident, then– fine. You’re right. About me.”

“Oh,” Akechi said.

Then he looked down and returned to his work.

...That was it? His only reaction?

For a moment, she had no idea what to do. It seemed bizarre that her secret had been torn from her throat, on such an uneventful afternoon, and while for a short moment she had felt free, daring and uplifted… afterwards she was expected to continue as if nothing had happened. Anticlimax hit her like the resigned, wet plop of ice-cream falling on a hot sidewalk. Akechi wasn’t even surprised.

And shockingly, underwhelmingly, the nothingness continued to stretch onward. They finished their paperwork on time, and then Akechi said, “I should go over what the principal told me with you.”

“Right,” Makoto said, trying to find her focus. She hadn’t been able to attend their last regularly-scheduled meeting with Kobayakawa, as she’d been sorting out a dispute between the tennis and volleyball clubs over practice times.

Akechi took out his notes. “First I gave him the usual report.”

The principal was always infamously vague regarding what he expected from the reports he regularly demanded from the student council. Makoto always tried to provide the most accurate information, but without any clear guidelines, she often ended up frustrated with the process. She was privately thankful for Akechi, who had a talent for compiling reports, considering he was remarkably adept at telling Kobayakawa what he wanted to hear and saying pleasant, important-sounding words that meant nothing.

“Then,” Akechi continued, “he emphasized that the student body should be instructed to ‘avoid bad influences’.”

“Did he say anything specific?”

“Does he ever?”

Makoto sighed, a short huff of frustration. An itching restlessness threatened to overwhelm her, to send her limbs commands to move and force synapses to fire with force in the face of overwhelming oblivion, a glaring nothingness that she could taste on her tongue and feel creeping from behind corners, always coming, always just out of sight.

“I have something in mind, actually,” she said.

“Oh? Do tell.”

“There have been… some rumors,” said Makoto. “About a business nearby. The restaurant called Cloud Nine. I don’t know what exactly it is, but it’s been said that the owners are selling items of some suspicious nature to students. In secret.”

“Mm. I’ve heard about that place. Do you have proof, by any chance?” Akechi asked.

“I don’t. But I think I can get some.” She paused. “It’s just that…”

An idea came to her, suddenly. Really, it didn’t seem ludicrous at first. It was clearly the most practical solution, and that was the way it presented itself to her. It was only after she let herself consider it did she realize that, as a proposition, it was a little… strange.

But practical necessity won out, as it often did. “I need someone to go with me,” she said.

“Well,” Akechi said, after a pause. “If you’re asking, I can check my schedule–”

“As my date.”

Akechi shut his mouth and gave her a look of disbelief. “Sorry?”

“I want you to pose as my boyfriend while I investigate.” And there it was. “It’s not exactly a place I’d be able to eat at alone. I think I should have a meal there and attempt to gather information organically, since it doesn’t seem prudent to barge in and demand answers about any possible… dubious activity.” She had been sorely tempted to do so, though. “It seems like the most practical course of action.”

“I see. And there’s no chance of your getting a real boyfriend.”

“No,” Makoto muttered. She cleared her throat. “It might be nothing. But this would be for my own peace of mind. And if there’s some threat to students, it’s our responsibility to make sure they’re safe.”  

Akechi put a finger to his chin and considered it. “I’m sure some of our classmates will be there when we are, however. They might get the wrong impression about us– well, the right impression, I should say. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“It’s… mitigable,” said Makoto.

“Regardless, they– well. You must have noticed. The others are under the assumption that we... don’t like each other.”

Assumption was putting it far too kindly. Their classmates had the right idea. There was no love lost between herself and Akechi, and he knew that as well as she.

“I can’t imagine why,” Akechi added pleasantly.

Makoto tried not to grit her teeth. “I can’t see how that matters. Have you seen the way some of these couples behave? They’ll reject each other and squabble endlessly, and then the next day they’ll be arm-in-arm.” The reasons for this particular facet of how relationships came to be had always eluded her.

“That’s true,” Akechi said. “People our age are… fickle.”

Makoto cleared her throat. “I won’t ask you to decide now. Take some time to make up your mind, and if you’re not comfortable with it, I’ll find another way.”

“I think I have made up my mind,” Akechi said contemplatively.

Makoto looked at him.

He smiled at her. “I’ll go with you to the restaurant.”

Makoto felt a rush of relief. She had been worried, for a moment, that Akechi was going to decline. “Thank–”

“But,” Akechi said.

Of course.

She had been foolish to expect otherwise.  “You’re giving me a condition?” Makoto said sharply.

Akechi shrugged and smiled again, an impenetrable smile.

“This is student council business,” said Makoto. “You should be just as invested in your responsibilities as I am.”

“I’m afraid,” Akechi said, with a voice that Makoto was not above thinking of as slimy, “that I can’t possibly measure up to the glowing standard you set, Niijima. I was actually thinking that we could both benefit from what I’m about to suggest.”

Under the table and out of sight, Makoto’s hand curled into a fist. “What is it, then?”

“I’ll do it,” said Akechi, “if you’ll pose as my girlfriend at school.”

She waited for the laugh, the just kidding. None came.

She gave it another moment. Nothing.

Akechi was looking at her expectantly.

“How,” said Makoto slowly, “would I benefit from that?”

“You’d be securing my cooperation with your plan,” said Akechi cheerfully. “And there’s also the fact that this will improve your image, too.”

“You’re… actually serious,” said Makoto. “You just said that people don’t think we like each other.”

“And you convinced me that opinions can change. Plus, Niijima… the student body,” Akechi said delicately, “doesn’t exactly see you as approachable. I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

“I really thought you were a total robot!” Eiko had told her cheerfully when they’d first gotten acquainted. Yes, Makoto was aware. But it was something she’d assumed couldn’t be helped. The world turned uncaringly on its axis, and the school store always ran out of bread on Fridays, and everyone would always think Makoto Niijima was cold. Or “nice”, which was such a milquetoast epithet that it somehow felt worse. Perhaps it would be different, the way people thought of her, if she were a boy, but there was no point in wondering. Her sister would scold her for it if she knew that that was what she was thinking. Makoto was supposed to be pushing past archaic gender barriers, as Sae often reminded her– not hesitating next to them, mind racing pointlessly with what-ifs.

“Being in a relationship will make you relatable,” Akechi said, like it was easy. “And your job– acting as a liaison between the student body and the administration– will become easier.”

“I know what my job is,” Makoto said. I’m not like you, she wanted to add. She wasn’t a politician, despite her title; she didn’t feel a constant, pressing compulsion to make herself likeable. But if she really was so different, then… why was she tempted?

“Unless making that much of an effort doesn’t matter to you,” Akechi said casually. “We’re only a few months away from graduating, after all. I would understand if you thought there was no point in keeping up with your duties.”

“If you’re asking me for my help, you’d do well to not try and manipulate me,” Makoto said icily. “I don’t shirk.”

Akechi held up his hands, in a gesture of surrender. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m asking because I really do need your help, Niijima. What you said about my method is true.”

“What method?”

“Of pretending I have a girl I like. It’s a white lie that won’t hold water.”

“So why don’t you just get a real girlfriend? There must be someone–”

“I don’t want one,” Akechi cut in. “It’s a distraction. I have to think about entrance exams soon, after all. Not to mention my other responsibilities.”

He didn’t seem very truthful. Makoto bit her lip. “How long would this relationship last?”

“It wouldn’t have to be very long,” Akechi said. “I’m aware this wouldn’t be easy for you, but I don’t expect any displays of affection. It just needs to be common knowledge that we’re a couple. After some time, we can end things, and I can ward off the others. I’ll say that I’m still unavailable, because I’m… unable to move past the memory of our relationship.” He smirked, just barely. “Because we were so good together.”

“So you’ll seem like the sweetheart romantic, and I the frigid girl who left you,” Makoto said dryly.

Akechi only shrugged and smiled.

It was a ludicrous proposition– she couldn’t believe Akechi had turned her idea on its head in such a way. But she really did need to secure his cooperation. There was no one else she could ask. And… the idea of seeming more real to her classmates, as her own person, not just an agent of the school administration, was appealing. She knew Akechi was trying to manipulate her by bringing it up, but there was truth in his words. Most girls had some experience with relationships by the time they were her age, didn’t they?

Then, in a few months, she would graduate, and if something were to go wrong, this would all be behind her, anyway. And in the meantime… If she couldn’t find a way to change, perhaps she could make it so they all thought of her differently instead.

Did it make sense? Was it worth it?

“I’d like some time to think,” Makoto said stiffly.

“Of course,” Akechi replied, and gave her something of a searching look before turning his attention to the forms on the table. “In the meantime, I think we’re done here.”

Makoto gave them a once-over. “I suppose we are.”

“I have to speak with a teacher,” said Akechi, “so I think I’ll take my leave now, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. We’re finished, after all,” Makoto said.

Akechi stood up to leave, and Makoto busied herself with packing up her things.

Then: “Niijima,” said Akechi.

She turned to look him. He was standing by the door, white-knuckle grip around his briefcase, and for a moment he hesitated, his visible tenseness pairing noticeably with the expectant silence as he seemed to gather his thoughts. Then he looked squarely at her and said, “You were right about me, too.”

It took a moment to sink in.

“Oh!” Makoto said, when she realized.

...And that was it.

Why couldn’t she think of anything else to say?

The irony of the fact that she was echoing Akechi’s reaction to her own admission didn’t escape her, and she tried to resist the urge to look away, to make some banal comment. Sometimes she had a bad habit of talking on, just to fill silence. But right now– should she offer encouragement? Thank Akechi for his sudden decision to tell her the truth? She’d never had to appease him before; she’d never tried to connect. The words wouldn’t come.

“I trust you won’t tell anyone,” said Akechi, after an awkward moment.

“No,” Makoto said quickly. “And– about me–”

“Ha, don’t worry,” said Akechi. “A secret for a secret, yes? I’ll keep quiet.” He actually winked. “And now you see that if you agree to my proposition, you have nothing to worry about. As tempting as it may be, I won’t fall for you.”

“You’d better not,” Makoto said, finding her voice. The thought was ridiculous– Akechi and herself– and she almost smiled. “I’ll see you later, Akechi.”

“Goodbye, Niijima.” He wavered for a moment, and almost seemed as if he was going to say something else, but then he only smiled shortly and turned to leave, closing the door behind him. From outside, she heard his quick, light footsteps grow softer and softer, until at last they faded away completely.

Left in sudden solitude, Makoto took a breath. Her mind was racing.

She didn’t trust Akechi; she never had. But what had made him decide to tell her the truth about himself?

Maybe it was for the same reason Makoto herself hadn’t been able to deny it.

Because this thing she hid– it was always pressing at her, always wishing for a chance to reveal itself. She was fine on her own, most of the time, but inside her, her secret restlessly sought camaraderie. It was a kind of secret that almost hurt to keep. For Akechi– was it that way, too? Was the temptation of connecting with someone else who understood too great to resist?  

How could she tell? How could she suddenly come to understand him in a single afternoon? No, she definitely still didn’t trust Akechi. But now they shared a kind of uneasy common ground.

Just as it always did, uncertainty made her anxious. She would have to decide whether to accept Akechi’s proposal, and after she did, there would be no reliable way to predict what the future would bring. Makoto bit her lip.

THREE. STORM

She expected to have some time on her own to gather her thoughts, so Makoto was embarrassed when she ended up seeing Akechi at the cram school they both attended later that day. He arrived and entered the classroom a few minutes after her, and they both looked up to meet each other’s eyes at the same time.

“Niijima, hello again,” Akechi said.

“Hi,” said Makoto. She cleared her throat. They usually left each other alone when they happened to see each other here, save for basic pleasantries, but things seemed different now, as if a paradigm had shifted irrevocably. “Would you like to…” Words failed her, so she gestured at the seat to her left.

“Ah,” said Akechi, after a short pause. “Sure.” He took the seat with practiced grace and set his briefcase next to the desk.

There was a stiff, awkward air between them. Makoto was relieved when, after a few torturous minutes of silence, the lesson began, a calculus review. As it progressed, Makoto found her eyes kept drifting from her own notes to Akechi’s. He wrote sparsely, though his eyes were always on the teacher. His print was a quick scrawl, though clearly legible. Makoto’s notes were thorough, and after class ended she always went back with a few highlighters and color-coded formulas and terms.

It had been a competition between the two of them since first year, a competition that had provided her with frustration and necessary motivation in equal measure. When Akechi wasn’t making little digs at her or trying to show her up in front of the teachers, she was almost grateful to him, for giving her something to work to beat. At present time, though, she thought she had the right to comfortably think herself a winner. She was first in class, and Akechi was behind her on the student council, too. It was a spot she had worked hard to win, but the victorious feeling that came with these things was always fleeting, more relief than pride. It was always a mad dash to the top, and then, without reprieve, on to the next thing.

And going against Akechi was exhausting. Because he was, in simple terms, annoying, and almost comically untrustworthy. Because he could make her feel inferior without any effort at all. Because she kept fooling herelf into trying, into thinking that maybe they were similar enough to get along, before once again she was forced to face reality.

She made herself stop thinking about Akechi after a while, and when time was up the lessons ended unceremoniously. The others began to file out of class, and she and Akechi went with them.

“It’s starting to rain,” Akechi murmured, when they approached the exit and watched the weather through the windows. “The trains will be crowded.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” said Makoto.

“How are you getting home, Niijima?”

“Oh. I’m riding my bike.”

“Your bike?” said Akechi.

And that was how she came to lead Akechi to the nearby lot where she’d parked her motorcycle.

“Sae bought it for me for my last birthday. I just got my license.” She smiled at it, not without a touch of pride. She tried not to let it show, but it delighted her to look at, with its sleek, black sheen and silver fenders.

“I…” Akechi regarded it dubiously. “Is it safe?”

“Of course it is. I wouldn’t be riding it if it wasn’t. And I’m a careful driver.”

“I’m sure you are,” Akechi said. He looked at the bike, eyes narrowed. “It’s just a little… dangerous-looking.”

She saw him regard the bike and then slide his eyes over to her, as if he was unable to fit both together in his consciousness.

It was probably a combination of his attitude and the fact that she clearly wasn’t thinking before she spoke today that made her ask “Would you like a ride, Akechi?”

“Sorry?” Akechi said.

“A ride,” Makoto repeated. “You did say you weren’t looking forward to the train.”

“Ah,” Akechi said, and Makoto struggled to hold in a snort as she saw him regard the bike again with a dumbfounded expression. “That’s– I– Thank you, Niijima, for the offer, but I can hardly accept. And riding in the rain can’t be too pleasant, can it?”

“It’s your choice,” said Makoto. “But I can understand if it’s too frightening.”

Maybe Akechi’s subtle criticisms would always get to her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to get to him in return. She had never really tried to hit at Akechi’s pride before, but she thought it might have an effect. And sure enough, as he heeded her words, she watched his demeanor change.

“You know,” he said, turning to her with a smile pasted on, “come to think of it, I’d hate to miss out on an experience like this. It’s not every day you get the chance to ride a motorcycle, after all. Do you have an extra helmet?”

“I do,” said Makoto. She made sure to keep one stored on her bike; she sometimes picked up Sae from work, or took Eiko home when they hung out.

She retrieved it and handed it to Akechi. He took it from her and held it gingerly in his hands.

“Don’t look so worried. If you still want me to be your girlfriend,” Makoto said, “then it follows that you’ll have to trust me with your safety, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose you’re right. Well… if we’re really doing this, let’s be going, then,” Akechi said, though his voice was audibly strained.

Makoto allowed herself a smirk before taking her own helmet from her bag and putting it on. Akechi did the same with his, though far more stiffly.

Akechi told her where he lived– an apartment complex nearby– and they were off. The way back was uneventful– Makoto really was a safe driver, and she was familiar with the area. Akechi seemed supremely reluctant to hold onto her as they rode, but after a particularly unpleasant series of bumps he tightened his grip.

“Here,” Akechi said after a while, and Makoto slowed to a stop in front of a building. It was a nice-enough apartment complex, though nothing like the high-rise where she lived with Sae, Makoto noticed.

Makoto removed her helmet to get her bearings. Akechi did so as well. Bafflingly, he then retrieved his phone, activated the front-camera for use as a mirror, and appeared absorbed in fixing his hair with his fingers.

When he noticed Makoto staring, Akechi glanced at her briefly before remarking, “Helmets are awful for the way your hair looks. I don’t know how you put up with it.”

“I carry a comb with me,” said Makoto, though, frankly, she didn’t think about it very much.

“Hmm,” said Akechi. “How do you take care of your hair? In general, I mean.”

“...I get a trim when I need to,” Makoto said slowly. “And I cut my own bangs if they’re becoming too long.”

“Your own bangs?” said Akechi. Makoto glanced at him, to try and see if he was being insulting, but he looked genuinely baffled.

There wasn’t much time for that kind of talk, though, because the slight rain had unexpectedly increased to a downpour, far more quickly than Makoto had expected it to. She uncomfortably squeezed water out of her sleeves and glanced at the sky. Riding home like this would be sorely uncomfortable.

Akechi looked at her, shrinking a little in the rain, and then back at the front of his building. He seemed supremely reluctant to do so, but after a moment he offered “You’d better come in.” The effect of the forced, chipper tone on his voice was like that of a fresh coat of paint on an already-crumbling wall.

“Just until it lets up,” Makoto said.

“Of course,” replied Akechi.

They rushed inside to escape the weather. Akechi led her to the second floor of the building and stopped to unlock a door marked 203.

Makoto removed her shoes before cautiously following Akechi through the short, narrow entrance hallway, past the bathroom door and the kitchenette. This place was far smaller than her own home, too. The interior was plain, but Akechi had a lot of notes tacked up on the walls and the fridge. Various books and papers were strewn about. He was surprisingly messier than she had expected.

Akechi led her into his bedroom– the only place inside that he could really lead her to– and hovered uncomfortably for a moment. “I’ll make some tea,” he said finally.

“Thank you,” Makoto replied. She looked around as Akechi retreated. Being the sole room, the bedroom was decently-sized. Bright red curtains framed an opening to a balcony. There was a low, shoddy-looking bookshelf in the corner, crammed full of titles. A laptop rested on a side table, next to a small potted cactus. The closet door had been left a little ajar, and through the gap Makoto saw a few sweaters on hangers and the edge of what looked like a storage bin on the floor. Akechi had endeavored to make room for a kind of living area inside as well; placed apart from his bed was a low table and two chairs.

She smoothed down her skirt before taking a seat on one of the wooden chairs, busying herself with her phone until Akechi appeared from the kitchenette, holding two cups of tea. He sat one down in front of her on the table with a kind of grim finality.

“Thanks,” Makoto said again. She could feel the mounting urge to ask Akechi for a coaster grow within her and tried to swallow it down.

Akechi sat opposite her and raised his own cup to his lips. “I didn’t have a chance to tidy up,” he said, after a deliberate sip. “My apologies.”

“Please, don’t worry about it,” Makoto replied, feeling uncomfortable and guilty. It was clear that Akechi didn’t want her here. She felt like an intruder. They’d crossed too many lines today, and now she was privy to a look into Akechi’s world that she didn’t think she’d done anything to deserve.

Silence stretched on between them, and then finally Makoto couldn’t take it anymore. “About what you suggested,” she said.

Akechi nodded for her to go on, and Makoto paused only briefly before continuing. “I haven’t… Aside from what I’ve learned from the way I’ve seen couples behave, I’m not sure how a relationship works.”

Sae had a boyfriend, once, when she was fresh out of college. When Makoto tried to picture his face, she found that her memory came up short. She could only recall a few offhand comments and the contents of texts and calls reminding her that Sae wouldn’t be able to come back for dinner so could Makoto please make sure she ate by herself and also run a load of laundry, until eventually even those had stopped and it had been no great surprise when Sae had quit mentioning his name at all. A relationship like that didn’t give Makoto much to work with when she tried to imagine the shape of a happy couple, when she tried to put herself and Akechi into the picture.

“Well, I’m in the same position,” said Akechi.

Makoto was unsurprised. She had not asked if anyone else knew about Akechi, about how he was gay, but she could wager a guess that there were probably few others, if there was anyone at all. Akechi held his cards close to his chest; that much was clear from his careful speech and too-perfect smiles. There was no reason this should be any different– no, there was all the more reason to be secretive, of course.

Being in Akechi’s confidence felt alien.

“Even so,” he continued, “I hardly think we need experience to maintain a pretend relationship. We’ll just have to be around each other a little more.”

“Could I ask you a personal question?” said Makoto.

Akechi turned his head slightly to look out through the balcony, but the rain was still falling steadily. “What is it?” he replied, directing his focus to her again. His gaze was wary, but alert.

“Nothing serious,” said Makoto. “I only wonder if you’ve ever… had feelings for anyone.” There was no reason for her to want to know, really, and it was probably a silly thing to say, but curiosity spurred her on. Makoto couldn’t really imagine Akechi with a crush. He seemed like he’d resent something so petty as a high-school infatuation, as that all-consuming dependence on another. Maybe he’d be coy. Perhaps he’d get even meaner, like a young boy tugging at pigtails, a simultaneous act of drawing closer and pulling away.

“If I’ve ever? Haha...” He looked away from her. “Of course.”

She wasn’t sure why, but she wanted to press further. “At Shujin?”

Akechi made a noncommittal noise. Makoto felt an urge to laugh, at how bizarre it all was. This morning she had dreaded the thought of her meeting with Akechi, and now she was in his apartment discussing romance.

“So,” she said. “Koizumi?”

Akechi paused. “Excuse me?”

“Koizumi, from my class. Were you ever attracted to him?”

Akechi laughed, with an undercurrent of disbelief. “God, Niijima. No.” He paused before wrinkling his nose. “Is that what you think of me? He’s… chronically disorganized.”

What a polite way to call someone a slob. “He doesn’t seem like your type,” Makoto admitted. “But it was the first name to come to me.”

“And the last, I hope,” Akechi said, scratching his neck. “How’s your tea?”

Makoto realized, suddenly, not without a childish glee, that Akechi was embarrassed. He was very pointedly not looking at her, and he kept fiddling with his tie.    

“It’s very good, thank you,” said Makoto, leaning forward. “Fujiwara? The one in 3-B?”

“No. Do we really need to do this?”

“Seto, then,” Makoto suggested.

“Who?”

“...Tanaka, from 3-C?”

“No.” Akechi paused. “He does have nice hair.”

“I suppose he does. Yanagi?”

“Oh, he wishes,” Akechi said with a snort. He picked up his cup and retreated into the kitchenette.

Makoto followed, leaning against the wall as Akechi methodically washed up. She thought hard for a moment. Who had she seen Akechi act differently around? Or maybe….

Suddenly, it came to her. She snapped her fingers, and she could have sworn she saw Akechi flinch. “Eiji Mikami,” she declared.

Akechi opened his mouth only to close it again, and Makoto smiled, triumphant.

“I don’t–” he tried.

“Don’t you?”

“It’s– It was only for a short while in first year.” He scrubbed the cup with vehemence. Makoto was fairly certain it was already clean.

“That’s why you volunteered to act in that play the theater club set up,” Makoto said, and Akechi stopped scrubbing. “They’d been begging you to join a production, and you always held off. Until Mikami joined.”

“It’s not important,” Akechi said stiffly.

Makoto grinned. “Sorry. We can change the subject.”

“Oh, we can, now, after you’ve gotten your victory,” Akechi muttered.

“It was only one correct guess. And that was just during first year. I’m sure there’s more I haven’t uncovered.” But she did feel an undeniable sense of accomplishment.

Akechi smiled in a way that let her know she wouldn’t be getting anything else out of him, and then said, “And you? I want a name in return for a name.”

Of course he did. “Fine.” Makoto shifted a little and admitted, “Ryoko Aida. For a few months, at the end of last year.”

She wasn’t about to tell Akechi anything else, but she found herself thinking backwards in time. She hadn’t realized her first crushes, from young childhood, were crushes, until she had considered, later, that perhaps it wasn’t typical to think of close friends the way she’d thought of them. From there came the awkward process of realization. Then… one upperclassman in middle school, whom Makoto had been simultaneously terrified of and enthralled by. At Shujin, Ryoko had been her second-year class’ representative, a pretty, outgoing girl and the object of Makoto’s daydreams until summer break and generalized anxiety had shaken her out of her pointless fantasies. Then there had been Eiko, for a very short while, until Makoto had realized that was even more pointless and somehow forced herself to move on with a steady mental chant– she doesn’t like you, she doesn’t like you, she can’t like you so stop, stop, stop.

It wasn’t as self-flagellating as it sounded, really. Just a necessary process.

Akechi laughed. “How interesting. You like the loud, carefree types, then? Just like that girl you always hang around.”

“Eiko’s a friend,” Makoto protested.

“A friend who’s tragically straight,” Akechi said.

“Ngh,” Makoto muttered. “It isn’t a tragedy. It’s just a… fact of life.”

“I won’t rub it in,” Akechi said, despite a teasing smile. “After all, of all people, I can understand, can’t I?”

“I suppose you can,” said Makoto.

She thought that for a moment, as the space between them filled with words that couldn’t be addressed to anyone else, it was almost as if they were friends.

“So… you never tried?” Makoto said cautiously, folding her arms. “With Mikami, or anyone? To…”

“No,” said Akechi, and nothing more.

“Why–”  

“Because even if I’m… tempted, things like that aren’t worth pursuing,” he interrupted, “not when our lives are as busy as they are. Surely you, of all people, must understand, Niijima.” He smiled at her. “You’re meant to be a smart girl, after all.”

Of course. It was just that way with Akechi and herself. She would demand answers and he would deflect, or shield himself with those half-replies that were just sharp enough to hurt and just mild enough to make her wonder if he’d really meant them. But even when she was only met with condescension, she wanted to know, she wanted to ask. Because–

It was because talking to him, because something about his attitude, always made her feel like she was speaking to an adult. She had always felt older than her classmates, ever since her father had died– but when she tried to assert her authority, she did not feel as if she was meant for the role. She felt like she was wearing a costume. And it never seemed to be so with Akechi, but… Could it be that he felt the same way she did? It was almost impossible to tell, because he was so good at obfuscating. It made her feel bitterly jealous of him and sorely impressed all at once.

But despite that, she could not hate him for it. She had the sense that in some way, playing the adult was the only way Akechi knew to get by.

“So you’re too busy for romance, but you’ve no qualms with attempting to manufacture a relationship where none exists,” Makoto said.

Akechi looked confused for a second, but then he seemed to remember why they were even discussing this in the first place and half-shrugged before arching a brow. “It’s a little cruel to say we have no relationship, Niijima.”

“I hardly know anything about you.”

“You know where I live.” Akechi gestured vaguely at the interior of the apartment.  “You know I’m gay.”

Makoto looked around for a moment, too, before feeling ridiculous and redirecting her gaze to Akechi. “The way other people see you is very important to you, isn’t it? Because of that, I can’t be sure how much I know about what you’re really like.”

Akechi shifted a little, drawing himself up, and suddenly, in his manner, from his expression, Makoto could sense a note of cold authority that hadn’t been there before. She thought she could tell just where it came from. They were in Akechi’s territory. It was a small apartment, it was a messy room, but it was all his, and if this conversation, despite the tentative friendliness, was, like so many others, just another exercise in power, then it was clear who had the upper hand here.

“I think,” Akechi said, with a casual, conciliatory tone that didn’t match the look on his face, “that you do me an unwarranted disservice, Niijima. After all– don’t you wish to be seen differently by everyone, too? We’re all of us wrapped up in the ways we’re perceived. And it’s especially necessary to take care for people like you and I.” His face was carefully blank. “I’ve found that I must be cautious with most things.”

In lieu of replying, Makoto thought again about Akechi playing the adult. Maybe he was just playing a part, in a broader sense– and from what he’d said, it was a careful strategy, a way to survive. But to always be careful, to have to keep vigilant watch over one’s self– it was a cold way to live, a sad way, protested the child inside of her– unfair and unfortunate. But it had to be that way, Makoto thought firmly, in a world where understanding people was so difficult. She’d have to think about it further, but she knew Akechi was right about one thing– Makoto was prone to similar behavior, if not the very same.

She felt too tired– or rather, too weary– to progress with that particular line of thinking. “I hadn’t thought of it like that,” she said quietly.

“Perhaps you should have,” said Akechi.  

He thought he was being subtle, Makoto was sure, when he went on the defense, but even if it wasn’t easy to pick out the changes in his posture and expression, Makoto would know how he felt by the hostility that she could sense radiating off of him in waves.

“Anyway,” said Akechi, “the storm’s cleared up.”

Makoto looked out at the balcony. Surely enough, the rain had stopped.

“You’ll be fine getting home?” Akechi said, turning to dry his hands.

“Yes.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Akechi said.

Makoto turned to look at her teacup, still sitting on the table, but Akechi was already moving towards the door. She hesitated before following him.

They went down to the parking garage where she’d left her bike in relative silence. Akechi watched politely with another placid smile as she retrieved her helmet.

“Thank you for the ride, Niijima,” he said. “I appreciated it.”

“You’re welcome.” She swung her legs across the seat. Then, she looked at Akechi. “I’ll do it,” Makoto said.

“Hm?” Akechi said, eyebrows shooting upwards.

“Pretending to date you. I’ll do it.” She put on her helmet. “Thanks for the tea,” she said, and started the ignition.

FOUR. KAYFABE

The next day was a Sunday. For dinner Makoto made salmon and took a note that they were running out of rice. As she was washing up after the meal, her phone buzzed with the notification for a message.

She placed the last plate in the dishwasher, dried her hands and unlocked her phone. The text was from Akechi.

If you’re serious about this, I’ll “ask you out” tomorrow, it read.

So soon? she typed with a frown.

Why not? came the reply. We can do it in the courtyard at lunch. Plenty of people will be there.

It seems like an unnecessary spectacle, Makoto couldn’t help but say.

We want people to see us, don’t we? And then, a minute later– Also, it’s a high-school relationship. Fake or no, unnecessary spectacle is a part of the equation.

I suppose I should defer to you, as the expert on ostentation.

Very funny. Might I take that as an agreement?

What else was there to say? She let him know he could.

So that Monday in the courtyard, Akechi took her hand, in full view of anyone who cared enough to see. Out of her periphery, Makoto could see people turn to them instantly.

“I’m glad I could finally tell you my feelings,” said Akechi, with a diplomatic air. Ah, so he was starting from the middle. No one was listening to their conversation before that, anyway. It was just as well– she wasn’t sure she could handle Akechi acting all saccharine as he told her just how long he’d been pining, and how torturous it had been, and how she managed to inspire genuine emotion in him in the face of such insurmountable odds as his personality... 

“Of course,” Makoto replied, and tried not to cringe. She tried to remember how exactly she’d gotten herself into this. As far as she could tell, the other students looked as if they wanted to figure out the same thing. Makoto looked at Akechi and attempted a smile.

“Niijima looks kind of scary,” someone audibly whispered.

Makoto let her face return to blank neutrality. It was worth a try, anyway. She had never been able to feign emotion where she felt none, or hide any obvious abject distress. Sae used to call her an “open book” with affection, but Makoto had never really felt that it was a useful trait.

She wondered if she should say something else, and cleared her throat. “I feel the same way.”

“I’m… glad,” Akechi repeated. His expression was a little pained, and Makoto realized his act was beginning to crack. The whispers from the others turned into heightened murmurs of disbelief. As for Makoto, she was out of words, and Akechi still hadn’t let go of her hand. This was a problem, because Makoto had wanted to shake hands with him. That would have been an… adequate way to accept, wouldn’t it, and end this little show? It was hardly as if they could do anything else in front of all these people.

Makoto was suddenly struck by the realization that she had no idea if she was going to be able to do this.

“Um,” she said, more out of desperation than anything else. “Could we, uh, go somewhere else?”

“Right. Yes,” Akechi said, looking relieved. Finally, he returned her hand to her. His had been clammy, and now her own felt wet. Makoto surreptitiously wiped her hand on her skirt.

They escaped inside, to an isolated hallway on the first floor.

“That went adequately,” Akechi decided.

“Sure,” Makoto said. “We seem to have... gotten the message across.”

“Yes,” agreed Akechi.

There was a short silence.

“Are you nervous?” Makoto said, raising an eyebrow.

Akechi laughed, a practiced, pleasant sound. “Why do you ask?”

The sweaty hands, for one thing. “You just seem like you are.”

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” he said. “After all, this isn’t real.”

“You may think so, but I’m wary,” Makoto said, raising her eyebrows at him. “After all, that was embarrassing, to say the least.” She hesitated. “At the same, time, though, it was... interesting. To see everyone’s reactions.”

“They’ll think you’re quite the heart-stealer now,” said Akechi cheerfully.

“Please don’t,” Makoto murmured, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s just… You may have been right. It seems this really will be a lasting way to– to change their perception of me.”

What she had really wanted to say was that she wished to tear it in half, the image they had of her, the Makoto they thought they knew. It was an inclination that came with a sudden force she’d felt from somewhere in her, but it wouldn’t be wise to show that much emotion, would it? She cleared her throat. “How about you? Did you see any heartbroken expressions just now?”

Akechi sighed. “I don’t really want to think about it,” he said, somewhat surprisingly.

“Oh,” Makoto said, and shuffled her feet. Akechi coughed.

“So,” Makoto said. “What now?”

But the next part was not in either of their hands.

FIVE. GIRL

A message from Eiko almost immediately afterwards demanded to see her. When they met up, she begged for details about how it had all happened, and Makoto scrambled to provide them, but there was almost nothing she could manage except a weak “Well, we just like each other.”

Lying always felt wrong. Lying to Eiko felt worse.  

She was brought out of her guilty, miserable feelings by Eiko’s chattering. “Akechi’s not really my type– too nerdy, you know, no offense–”

“None taken,” Makoto said.

“But he sure is popular, I think. Don’t all the girls say he’s just like a prince?”

Makoto thought that was probably correct, if only in a Machiavellian sense.

She hadn’t known what to expect, regarding her other classmates’ reactions, but upon reflection, she supposed the trajectory of their attitudes made sense. First there was shock– and even she, destined to be out of the loop, could sense the thick disbelief coming from everyone regarding her and Akechi’s purported relationship.

Once that was over with, there was the gossip, and Makoto somehow had no problem catching wind of that once she herself was the topic of conversation. Someone said she had blackmailed Akechi into dating her. Then someone else said Akechi blackmailed her into dating him. There were murmurs about how their matching red eyes were an ominous sign that they were going to be the harbingers of Shujin’s doom. Still others were convinced they had formed an unholy union that existed for the purpose of stopping any Shujin students from ever enjoying themselves and promoting an iron-fisted No Fun Allowed philosophy.

Then there was the vitriol. She was ashamed of herself for being foolish enough not to expect it. Sometimes girls looked at her in the hallways with narrowed eyes. There were comments, cruel ones, just loud enough for her to hear. She was boring, she had no personality, she was selfish– what did Akechi see in that kind of a girl?

It was a strange feeling– to have people outwardly angry with her not because of who she was or what she lacked, but for an association that no one had expected from her, something that wasn’t even real. It was small. It was petty. It was, in a strange way… nice.

“I’m sorry,” Akechi told her, a few days after they had made their big show in the courtyard. Surprisingly, he even sounded like he meant it. Slumped against the wall in the student-council room, he mostly looked tired.

“For?” Makoto replied, though she thought she knew. She was finishing up some history homework at the table.

He half-smiled and shrugged. “The looks you’ve been getting, and all the idle talk from the girls–”

“With misdirected affection, yes,” Makoto said. “I have to ask– what have you even done to make them all like you so much?”

Akechi laughed, and then looked a little disbelievingly at her, like he thought she should already know the answer. Makoto only looked back at him expectantly.

“I do have an appeal,” Akechi said slowly. “I would think it was obvious.”

Makoto considered it, putting a hand to her chin. “I don’t know if I see it.”

“Because you like women.”

“Maybe,” said Makoto.

“Well, anyway,” Akechi said, sounding a little miffed, “it’s not as if I understand it completely.”

“Really? Their attraction to you– it isn’t something you try to… encourage?’

Akechi’s smile turned bitter. “Oh, please, Niijima. You’d accuse me of that? When you’re aware I don’t have any interest in girls? That’s a truth I trusted you with.”

“I think,” Makoto said, “that if you saw a benefit to it, you–”  

“And what benefit would that be? I don’t try to endear myself to them. All I ask is that I’m left alone, so I treat them kindly. They like me because of that.” He looked flatly at her. “The rest of it, they make up in their heads.” Makoto wondered if she had heard a peculiar kind of emptiness in his voice, but in the next moment he was smiling again. “You know, if you would just put on a nice face, Niijima, people would like you more.”

“I’m not good at that,” Makoto snapped, and hearing the defensiveness in her voice, dialed it back a little. “I can’t pretend to be something I’m not.” And that was where all her troubles lay. The whole of her was a lack that couldn’t be compensated for.

“Oh?” Akechi said, and the sweet sound of his voice put her on her guard. “But you can play a role nicely, can’t you? That’s what these past few years have been about– for both of us.”

“It’s not an act for me, it’s a job,” Makoto said. They were suddenly speaking in vague terms, dancing around anything that could come too close to honesty. She couldn’t be sure if what she was saying was true.

“Is there really a difference?” Akechi said. Before she could reply, he had already moved on without waiting for a response. “Anyway, I really do apologize.”  

“It’s fine,” Makoto said, returning to her work, filling in blanks methodically– the length of the Warring States Period, the first emperor of the Qin dynasty. Her pencil moved steadily on the paper. “It isn’t because of you. This is what they’ve always thought of me. Our arrangement is just giving them an opportunity to say what they think.”

“Forget what they think,” Akechi said.

His voice made her look up. It sounded cold, like it had before, and sharp-edged. His eyes looked blank and his lip was beginning to curl in a sneer.

“You shouldn’t take notice of the opinion of vapid gossips,” Akechi said quietly. “They only do it because they’re empty, after all. Nothing inside, so they claw at the walls as they try to drag everyone else down with them.”

Makoto was startled. It was the sharpest condemnation of anything that she had ever heard from Akechi. “That’s…” she said slowly. “Very honest.” Maybe a little too honest, for a change. “I think some of them may be… sad,” she said. The word seemed small and insignificant as a counterpart to Akechi’s pathos.

“Sad,” Akechi repeated.

“They really did– they do like you. You’re painting quite a bleak picture of them, Akechi. They don’t have malicious designs, for the most part. They’re just… girls.”

Yes– they were just young girls like her, weren’t they? With fleeting high-school crushes, with typically childish fantasies. Some of them were content to nurture their dreams, never acting upon their desires, while others were restless and determined enough to take a chance, like that girl who’d confessed to Akechi. Makoto didn’t even know her name.

And all of those girls, Makoto thought– from the moment they were old enough to realize what was expected from them– felt that pressure that was as old as time, a pressure so constant, so ingrained that it didn’t even feel pressing anymore.

One day, when she was only seven, and Sae seventeen, she and her sister had run into a woman during a run to the grocery store– a retired officer, someone on the force who knew her father well. He’d still been living, then.

They’d stopped to make conversation, Sae doing most of the talking like an adult, and then the woman had turned to look down at little Makoto. “Your father is such a good man– so dependable and kind,” she’d told Makoto, beaming. “You’ll find a man just like him when you’re old enough to get married, won’t you?”

“Huh?” Makoto had said.

Sae had sensed an incoming barrage of questions– when she was younger, Makoto always asked a lot of questions– and hastily steered the conversation in another direction. But later on, when they were on their way back from the market, Makoto couldn’t be quiet any longer.

“Why would she say that, about Daddy?” Makoto demanded. “It was weird.”

“It wasn’t that strange, Makoto; people say things like that all the time.”

“But what does it mean? Why would I want to marry someone just like Daddy? That’s gross, isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t really mean anything. She only meant that you should find someone who’s strong and a good man, like Dad is. Don’t think too hard about it.”

So Makoto hadn’t mentioned it after that. But she had never forgotten, and for years afterward, it was easy to respond to people– family friends, classmates, overly-friendly checkout clerks, or otherwise– when they asked her what her type was, what she wanted in a boyfriend or a husband. “Someone strong, respectful, and kind,” she’d say, “and dependable, with principles, who would treat me with respect.”

It was an easy answer, because she’d just think of her father, and no one would be the wiser as to the fact that she’d never felt attracted to a man– and that she was realizing she never would be. Perhaps her method was a little dubiously Freudian in execution, but it was remarkably effective, in that it seemed to satisfy all the pesky inquirers. She couldn’t complain.

What of those other girls? Not all of them were like her, of course, but they wanted to solve the problem in their own ways, didn’t they, the problem of the constant expectation? So some of them chose boys like Akechi– popular, conventionally handsome, easy to want– and they waited for the pressure to ease.

“They really do like me?” Akechi said, breaking her out of her reverie.

She looked at him and he smiled, the smile of his that was embarrassed and rueful– though at that moment, it seemed misplaced.

SIX. PURPOSE

They went to the restaurant one cloudy, chilly afternoon. 

“It’s quite expensive here,” Akechi said as they looked over the menu. “I suppose you’ll be reimbursing me?” he added cheekily.

“This is still student council business. Ask the principal if you want to be reimbursed.”

Makoto ordered a salad. Akechi asked for a sandwich. Their orders came on time. Makoto ate slowly, mechanically, eyes darting around the room, but there was nothing out of the ordinary, just the typical trappings of a mid-quality dining experience– the occasional noise from the kitchen, the voices of the patrons, the neatly-arranged cutlery on each table. Akechi ate quickly, like he had been hungry, finishing his food before her.

When they paid, Makoto leaned forward towards the waitress, swallowing to pretend her throat hadn’t gone dry. “I’d like to ask about the– the extra items, that we could purchase here,” she said.

Akechi coughed delicately. “We’re very interested,” he said, giving the waitress a meaningful look.

Makoto had more-or-less expected the waitress to look at them like they were crazy, so it was a surprise when understanding registered on her face. “Oh, you mean–” She paused before shrugging and scratching the back of her neck. “I don’t know anything about that. You’ll have to ask the co-owner. She’s not here right now, but she’s around on Thursdays and Fridays, usually.”

“I see. Thank you,” Makoto said, and the waitress left.

“It seems we have no choice but to come back later,” said Akechi.

“Hm,” said Makoto.

“Was there anything strange about the food?” she asked him when they exited. They were on their way to the train station, but Makoto kept feeling the urge to turn back, to look further for answers.

“What, do you think it was laced?” He smirked and sounded amused. “You have a powerful imagination, Niijima.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Makoto muttered. She didn’t really know what she had meant. She was trying not to feel silly about this whole thing.

“This really has become your little cause, hasn’t it?”

“Poke as much fun as you want. I’d much rather it be nothing, but I wouldn’t feel right if I just left it alone.”

“How noble,” Akechi remarked.

“What?” said Makoto, suddenly self-conscious.

Akechi looked to the side, his hands in his pockets as he strode on. “I’m only extolling your virtues.”

“Enough of this,” Makoto said abruptly. She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

Akechi turned to look at her over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. People walking past glanced at her with some irritation, but she ignored them.

“If you have a problem with what I’m doing, then you should say what it is,” said Makoto.  

“Fine, then.” Akechi squarely met her gaze. “What exactly are you doing, Niijima?”

She bit her lip. “I’m aware today was a little unproductive, but now we have more information, and when we return–”

“I don’t mean that. I mean...”

And then Akechi looked at her, and it was in a way she could not recall him looking at her before– with a kind of bemused scrutiny.  

“Ha,” he said finally, after a moment of that. “Indulge me for a second and tell me what you want out of this.”

“What do you think I want?” she said incredulously.

“You came up with this plan on an impulse, didn’t you? When I told you what Principal Kobayakawa said. I thought it was his directive that sent you on this mission. You’ve put in enough effort. Aren’t you going to run along, now, to receive your pat on the back?”

And there it was– the type of harsh jibe that she had grown to expect and learned to prepare for, an Akechi specialty that was always delivered with a placid smile and an even tone, malice doled out so expertly that you felt as if you could only fault yourself for being subject to it.

She took a breath, to steel herself, to prevent the words from turning over in her mind and planting doubt after doubt. Then, she said, “I had my suspicions before Principal Kobayakawa gave the directive– I was already intending to investigate. From what we saw today and what I’ve heard at Shujin, I still believe there’s enough reason to move forward with this. That’s my position. If there’s something more important you think we should be putting our time towards, I’d welcome the suggestion. But I’m concerned for my classmates, and I’ll tell you now that I’m not doing this for praise. ”

Akechi didn’t reply for a moment. Then he said, “So you actually want to get to the bottom of this. I underestimated your sense of duty, I suppose.”

“Is that why you don’t like me?” Makoto said quietly, without any real distress. She wanted past accusations, past hostility; she suddenly only wanted the simple truth. “Because you thought I was only trying to make myself look good?”

“That wouldn’t bother me,” Akechi replied with a wry grin, surprising her. “It’s high school, Niijima, not the Diet. I wouldn’t fault you for sucking up.”

“I hope so,” Makoto muttered, “considering you’re guilty of the same just as often.”

Akechi flipped his hair and considered her again. “I suppose… it’s because…” He laughed, a sound without humor. “I’ll ask you a question. Do you really think you can change anything?”

It was a reply she didn’t expect.

“We’ve no real power within Shujin’s system.” He looked away from her. “Things worked a certain way before our time, and they’ll keep working that way once we leave. And you… you act like you’re above it all. Like you can fulfill your grand ideals, and get rewarded in the process. But it doesn’t work that way. No one will commend you for drawing attention to what’s wrong– not when they won’t benefit from it.”

Akechi was deeply cynical, Makoto realized. So he faulted her for being naive. That should have made it so they would never understand each other, if she let herself be sensitive.

But Akechi’s cynicism, Makoto thought, wasn’t like that of an adult. It wasn’t born from the type of apathetic world-weariness an overworked bureaucrat might display, or even from disdain for her, not really.

She could tell from his words, his tone, the way he wouldn’t look at her, that, most of all, Akechi’s attitude came from anger, the type of anger which was buried deep. And that kind of frustration was something Makoto understood well.

“Do you think it’s all pointless, then?” Makoto asked, just to gauge his reaction. “I’m asking genuinely. I didn’t take you for a nihilist.”

“Hm,” Akechi murmured. “Sometimes I…”

He trailed off, seeming to become overwhelmed with his own thoughts, and bit his lip as his eyebrows drew together. Makoto saw the mask slip, just a little.  

“I’m not as much of an idealist as you think I am,” Makoto said carefully, after he still didn’t respond. “Sometimes… Sometimes I’m not so sure if I really can make a difference.” She looked down, and felt her cheeks burn. “I think I really do try so hard because… I’d just like to feel like I’m doing something. To feel useful.”

“It isn’t bad, I suppose,” Akechi said, and Makoto looked up. He had a closed-off look on his face, and his words were clipped, but somehow they felt genuine. “To be needed.”

“We should get a move on,” Makoto said after a moment, and Akechi nodded once, slightly.

They went on their way.

“So,” Makoto said, looking at him after a few steps. “Are those all of your grievances with me?”

“For now,” Akechi said brightly.  

Makoto rolled her eyes, and then hesitated. “Thank you,” she said. “For your honesty.”

Akechi’s eyebrows rose by a fraction. “I must say, I thought you’d flare up after criticism like that.”

Makoto turned her gaze forward. “It’s nice to hear someone say what they think. People… only seem to humor me, much of the time. I want… I want to get better.” I have to.

“If that’s your mindset, I’m sure you’ll keep improving. You’re stubborn enough to never stop trying, after all.”

From Akechi, that counted as a compliment of the highest order.

“And,” Akechi added, “I’m beginning to have genuine suspicions regarding that place, and I really do admire your tenacity. You have my full cooperation in this matter. Feel free to direct me as you see fit.” He paused. “I reserve the right to offer input, though.”

“Thank you, Akechi. I’d be grateful to have your opinion.” It wasn’t a lie. It was good that Akechi wasn’t her biggest fan, in that sense. It meant he would be objective.

She put a hand to her chin as another thought occurred to her. “By the way, did you mean what you said earlier? About the expense?”

“That was only a joke, Niijima.”

“I just don’t want to inconvenience you too badly.”

“But a little inconvenience is fine,” he said. Makoto looked over to see him wearing a good-natured grin, one that made her crack a smile in return.

“I’ll have to ask you not to worry,” Akechi continued. “I can afford it; I work.”

“You do?” Makoto said.

“At the bike shop. And I pick up shifts at another store in the underground mall as often as I’m able.”

That was surprising. It seemed like a lot of work for someone Akechi’s age, and Makoto had heard it said that Akechi’s mother and father worked abroad, that they were well-off enough to set him up with his own place. But Akechi’s apartment hadn’t looked as if it belonged to the son of wealthy parents, and Makoto couldn’t recall seeing any family photos.

Makoto had never had a part-time job. She knew how to manage money; she sometimes helped Sae with their budget, and she did the same kind of work for clubs through the student council, but…

“You don’t… completely take care of yourself, do you?” Makoto asked. She wondered what that would be like– to be independent, to make her own way, without being a burden on anyone.

“Not completely, no,” Akechi said, with a vague side-smile, and didn’t continue.

The conversation begged to be steered in another direction. “Do you know a lot about bikes?”

Akechi relaxed a little, and Makoto felt relieved. “Yes,” he answered, “but I’ve no experience with the kind of monster you own, I’m afraid.”

Makoto grinned. “It’s really not as bad as you think it is. Maybe you can ride one of your own one day.”

“Thanks, but I think I’d prefer not to take the risk…”

It was still chilly outside, typical for the November day, but Makoto felt comfortable as they strolled on, finding it easy to make conversation– so much so that when she and Akechi parted ways at the station, she was surprised, when she was alone, at how truly lonely it felt.

SEVEN. LUNCH

“Akechi is still in his classroom, you know,” a classmate informed her. “My friend saw him there.”

Makoto looked up from her lunch, eyebrows knitting together. She wasn’t sure what the relevance of the information was. The girl looked at her expectantly. Makoto looked back.

Oh. Suddenly, she realized. She and Akechi were meant to be dating. It was only natural that they eat together.

“Right. Thank you,” Makoto said. “I’ll…” She stood up quickly, and the book she’d been reading almost fell off her desk. The other girl reached over quickly and grabbed it before it could.

“Thank you,” Makoto muttered again, taking the book from her, and left the classroom in a hurry before she could embarrass herself further.  

She felt acutely miserable as she made the journey to Akechi’s classroom, dreading entering and being seen by everyone. But the distance between the two rooms was short, and before long she found herself waiting awkwardly at the entrance. She could see Akechi, sitting by the window– he was reading something, too.

People took notice of her soon enough, and Makoto watched uncomfortably as someone alerted Akechi as to her presence, as he looked over and regarded her with surprise.

“Niijima,” he said, and all other conversation in the classroom stopped at once. Makoto wished, desperately, for a hole to open beneath her feet and swallow her.

“Someone told me you were still here,” Makoto said. She tried to sound bright.

“Oh!” Akechi said, after a short moment of apparent confusion. “Of course. I was just about to… come to you.”

“Right,” Makoto said. Everyone in the classroom was very obviously gaping at the two of them, having a conversation with her at the door and he at his desk.

She took a breath and walked over to Akechi’s desk as gracefully as she could manage, setting her lunch down on the table. Her eyes fell on the book at his desk– the title text was in English, Swann’s Way. The silence continued. Makoto tentatively pulled the empty chair from the seat opposite towards herself so she could sit down. It made a harsh sound as it scraped against the floor.

“How has your day been?” Akechi asked when she seated herself. He looked, Makoto noticed grimly, pained.

“Just fine,” said Makoto. We aren’t good at this.

They began eating. After a few, agonizing moments, Akechi abruptly stood up and said “I think I would like to buy some bread. Won’t you join me, Niijima?”

“Of course,” Makoto said quickly. Any opportunity to leave this oppressive atmosphere was more than welcome. She noticed Akechi take his lunch with him as he made to leave, and so she did the same.

She followed Akechi through the halls. “This isn’t the way to the co-op,” said Makoto.

“Just follow me,” Akechi said, and Makoto frowned, but complied. Eventually, he led her up the stairs, and then to–

“Akechi,” hissed Makoto. “This is the door to the roof.”

“I’m aware,” Akechi said. “You wanted to get away from prying eyes, didn’t you?”

“We aren’t allowed to be here. We’ll set a bad example.”

“Everyone else isn’t allowed to be here,” Akechi said to her. “I don’t imagine we’ll face any obstacles.”

“That’s an abuse of privileges,” Makoto tried, but Akechi was already opening the door. She huffed to herself and hurried after him. “I’m not comfortable with this, for the record!”

“Noted,” said Akechi.

“How often do you come here?” Makoto asked warily, when they’d stepped outside. It wasn’t as if the roof was a very nice part of the school– just a collection of old tables and equipment. It was windy up here, and she absently pushed aside some strands of hair.

“Often enough,” said Akechi. “When I know I won’t be missed.”

That was another one of Akechi’s cryptic statements that Makoto felt an instinctive, inquisitive urge to unpack, but when she tried to find the words she came up short, and then the moment passed. Next time, Makoto told herself. I’ll get him next time. “I’m sorry for intruding upon your private space,” she said dryly, instead.

“You’re forgiven,” Akechi hummed, ignoring the clear sarcasm in her voice. “Are you enjoying your brush with rebellion?”

“I’d hardly call this meaningful rebellion. It’s just a flagrant disregard for the rules.”

“Ha!” Akechi laughed. “Now that’s an answer I wasn’t expecting. Must a rebel have a cause to meet your standards, then?”

That gave her pause. Yes, when she was younger she had been enamored with the thought of making a defiant stand, against mandatory naptime, against unfeeling adults, against the brutal, consistent unfairness of everything – what child hadn’t?

But then Dad had died, and the ground beneath her feet collapsed, and the world had seemed suddenly to become an unsafe place, threatening and overlarge and looming with untold dangers. Anxiety made her afraid of everything, for a time, and overcoming that had felt nigh-impossible at first. The better part of that terror had faded, but its legacy remained; she carried it with her always. Rebellion remained a fantasy.

She shook her head a little. She was thinking too hard about the simple matter of a school rooftop. “That’s a silly question,” she said. It was a terrible reply, conversation-wise. But it was the easiest thing to say.

Akechi eyed her for a moment, expression indecipherable, before he turned away. “Well,” he said. “Shall we eat?”

They ate, seating themselves at one of the tables. She watched Akechi take out his food again– it was a pre-packaged lunch from the convenience store, she’d noticed. Makoto felt a little guilty as she retrieved her own bento.

“Does your sister make your lunch for you?” Akechi asked suddenly.

Makoto laughed, but cleared her throat when Akechi only looked at her, confused. “No, I make my own. I’ve done it for years. Sae was always too busy for that.”

Akechi made a brief conversational noise and resumed eating. She watched him dig into a clump of rice.

“That looks…” Makoto said finally, unable to bear it any longer.

“Yes?”

“There’s no way,” Makoto said, “that that kind of meal contains a proper distribution of calories and food groups.”

Akechi shrugged. “This is what I eat most days, and I’m healthy enough.” He gave his best laugh.  

Makoto frowned. “That doesn’t make it a good habit.”

Akechi smiled and swept some hair out of his eyes. “Thank you for your concern. Perhaps next time I’ll pick up something else.”

It was a dismissal, and Makoto knew it. “If we’re supposed to be dating,” she said, after a moment, “it doesn’t seem right that I’m eating homemade bento while you have a convenience-store lunch.”

“Hmm, it doesn’t? Are you offering to bring me food, then?” Akechi said brightly.

“No,” Makoto said. “I have another idea.”

Maybe Makoto struggled to understand her fellow students, but at least she knew Shujin’s building inside and out. Home-ec classes were no longer taught, but the room they’d previously been held in still had a functioning kitchen.

She told Akechi to wait there for her after school the next day, and arrived bearing a bag of groceries she’d picked up from a store near school.

“You know, us meeting clandestinely could get tongues wagging,” Akechi remarked when he saw her enter.

“Don’t be crass.” Makoto set the bag down on the counter.

Akechi watched warily as she removed a packet of rice and an assortment of vegetables. “What is this about, exactly?”

“You should know how to cook,” Makoto said simply.

Akechi looked genuinely surprised. “Really, Niijima–”    

“This way you can learn something,” Makoto said primly, “instead of having me bring you lunch, pretend-girlfriend or not. It’s not as if I have time in the mornings to make extra for you, anyway.”

“Don’t you feel bad because of the optics of the situation?” Akechi said flatly. “You’re a girl going out of your way to teach a man how to cook. It’s not very empowering.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why would I feel bad? This way makes complete sense.”

“You really are practical to a fault,” Akechi murmured, coming over to stand beside her. “What do you plan for us to cook, then?”

“Just stir-fry. It’s simple and filling, so it’ll be good to practice with,” Makoto answered. She looked over at Akechi, whose face was pinched. “What is it?”

“I’m just afraid I’ll ruin something,” Akechi said, with a little nervous laugh.  

“It’s fine,” Makoto said. “We aren’t aiming for perfection. The point is to get acquainted with the process.”

“To a very fault,” Akechi repeated to himself, and then smiled at her. “Well, then… Let’s get started.”

She watched Akechi prepare the vegetables and meat with a critical eye, occasionally making comments or helping. His hesitance betrayed a lack of experience, so Makoto tried not to be too harsh, even if her first instinct was to correct every mistake in his technique.

It wasn’t long before they were able to dispense the ingredients into the frying pan, and shortly afterwards, the food was ready. Makoto retrieved some paper plates and utensils. They ate standing up, leaning against the counter.

“It’s good,” Makoto said.

Akechi smiled. “Do you think so?” He seemed genuinely pleased.

“You really never learned to cook?” Makoto asked him. “You live alone.”

“I can make some basic things, but… no. I never had a teacher.” He glanced sideways at her, then looked away.

Makoto smiled. “Once you master stir-fry,” she said contemplatively, “it’s not hard to apply the same skills to other recipes. You’ll need to have a stocked fridge.” She brightened. “We can go grocery shopping.”

“I wouldn’t mind that, I suppose,” Akechi said, leaning back and eyeing her. “Though I’ll have to see what my budget allows.”

“There are plenty of healthy meals you can make easily, even with a lack of ingredients or time. All you need to do is master a few basics.”

“Yes, yes. You know, now that you’re making this effort for me, I should do something for you.”

Makoto frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’m returning the favor. I thought that was the principle behind what we’re doing,” Akechi said. “Quid pro quo, yes?

Right. This arrangement was still in place so they could both benefit equally. It was indeed what they had agreed upon, so Makoto wasn’t sure why she felt a little annoyed. “What do you plan to do for me, then?”

Akechi put a hand to his chin. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

“Well, good luck,” Makoto murmured. She snapped her fingers suddenly as she remembered something. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to bring it up. We should go on a date.”

“...Haven’t we already, at the restaurant?”

“Another may be necessary.” She sighed. “Because I’m not a good liar. People have been asking me what we’ve been doing together, and I can’t think of what to say. I’m not really sure what’s normal, but…”

“Hmm,” said Akechi. “What do you have in mind?”

“...I don’t know,” Makoto said, at a loss. “Isn’t the man supposed to decide these things?”

“That’s not very forward-thinking of you,” Akechi said, raising a chopstick in the air as if to chastise her. “You’re just saying that so you won’t have to come up with an idea yourself.”

“I’m sorry about the way our patriarchal society functions,” said Makoto.

Akechi huffed a little, and Makoto couldn’t help but smile. When he was frustrated, he really did begin to act childish. It was refreshing.  

They finished eating and talked of idle things as they cleaned up– homework and the weather, the rest of the week’s plans. Just as they were about to exit the classroom, Akechi stopped her. She looked at him quizzically.

“I think I know how to repay you,” Akechi said cheerfully. “I’ll teach you how to lie.”

EIGHT. CATCH

They ate lunch again on the roof the day after that. But as they were leaving, Makoto caught sight of the third-year counselor, coming around the corner, and stopped in her tracks, Akechi tensing behind her.

The counselor glanced up and looked surprised when she saw them. “Akechi, Niijima. Another student just told me there was a problem here– do you know anything about that?” She frowned. “Were you attending to something on the roof?”

Akechi inelegantly poked her back, and Makoto felt a rush of dread when she realized he wanted her to respond. She took a breath.

Speak confidently and make eye contact, Akechi had told her, just a few minutes earlier as they were eating. Don’t look too stiff.

“It’s… the plants,” Makoto said, looking the counselor in the eye. “The ones that grow up there. In the planters. We received… Someone informed me that there was something wrong with them, so I asked Akechi to come examine them with me.” She wondered desperately why the first thing that came to her made so little sense.

But the counselor, though she looked a little confused, seemed to be buying it. “Oh… is everything all right, then?”

“Yes,” Makoto said firmly. “We ensured that the plants are fine.”

“Well, all right. It’s nice of you two to take notice. If there’s nothing else here, I’ll get back to my office. You two should return to class.” With a nod, she turned on her heels and went back the way she’d come. They heard her murmuring “Waste of time…” under her breath as she left.

“Good job, Niijima,” Akechi said. “That could have been much worse.”

Makoto turned to him and realized he didn’t look ruffled at all– almost as if he’d expected this to happen.

Makoto frowned. “You were the one who sent her here, weren’t you? So I would have to tell a lie.”

Akechi didn’t even try to deny it. “I’m sorry, Niijima. It was the only way I could think of to get you some experience.” He smiled guilelessly. “It worked out in the end, didn’t it? If you didn’t succeed, I would have stepped in before we got in trouble.”

Makoto wanted to be annoyed, but she found herself impressed by the extent of Akechi’s machinations. Shaking her head in amazement, she asked, “Which student did you send to tell her?”

“Just a first-year,” Akechi said carelessly. “I made sure to look urgent, so he didn’t ask questions. Anyway, about your performance.” He put a hand to his chin. “It went well, but your knees were practically knocking together.”

“They were not. And I felt uncomfortable; it’s only natural to be nervous.”

“You really should stop guilting yourself at every chance you get. It was only someone in the Shujin staff, after all,” Akechi said. He caught the look Makoto gave him and rolled his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. Could you, in all honesty, point me towards a single member of the administration here that deserves our respect?”

“Shujin… could be worse,” Makoto said halfheartedly.

“High praise,” said Akechi.

“Well, anyway, I already told you I’m not good at it,” Makoto murmured. “And it still worries me that you consider yourself so skilled at lying that you’d offer to teach someone else how.”

“Oh, it isn’t like that at all,” Akechi assured her pleasantly. “It’s just that I’m good at identifying when other people are lying, so I have theoretical knowledge of what behaviors to avoid while concealing the truth. It’s something that should only be used in special cases, of course.”

That was the biggest load of bullshit Makoto had heard that week, but she decided there would be no point in pursuing a line of questioning; Akechi was wearing his bulletproof smile. “Even with that condition, it still makes me uncomfortable,” she said instead.

Akechi shrugged. “As uncouth as it may seem, there are always situations in which hiding the truth is inevitable. Like the one we’re in right now, for instance. You agree, don’t you? That’s why you chose to do this.”

Makoto made a noncommittal noise in reply, and thought again about Sae calling her an open book.

“And honestly, I’d go so far as to say that professional life consists of almost nothing but lying,” Akechi continued.

“How do you know that?”

“Isn’t it obvious? All adults do is lie. But as for ourselves… there’s the fact that technically, we’re lying every day. And unless you’re willing to take to the P.A. system and declare your love for women to the entire student body, that’ll continue.”

“That’s completely different,” Makoto insisted. “I’m not misleading anyone. I just–” She huffed. “Really, should I even have to explain this to you?”

Akechi was watching her closely. “But you still feel guilty about it, don’t you?”

“I–” Makoto said, and faltered.

“You do. And you shouldn’t,” Akechi said. He looked away. “I know it’s not the same thing. I just wanted to see how you felt. But maybe one day, far away from here, things will be different. For now, though, you know– sometimes it’s better to just not think about it at all.”

“That doesn’t seem… healthy,” Makoto said.

Akechi smiled vaguely at her. “Well, anyway– are you ready for our date today?”

“Hearing that from you really does make me want to cringe.”

“How flattering.”

After school, Akechi met her at the entrance.

“Where are we going?” Makoto asked, adjusting her bag over her shoulder as they began their walk to the train station.

“Ichigaya.”

“...Back to the restaurant?”

Akechi looked mildly offended. “Please, give me some points for originality, Niijima.”

Though Akechi seemed to enjoy keeping her in suspense, the “date” itself still felt like work, so much so that they quizzed each other with flashcards on the train to make sure it was all still an effective use of time.  

“When did late-heavy bombardment occur?” Akechi read off a card.

“During the Archaean eon. What happens during alpha decay?” Makoto asked him when they got off at their stop.

“The atom loses two protons and two neutrons. What do stromatolites provide evidence of?”

“Early cyanobacteria.” Makoto went through her cards as they walked out of the station. “How about…”

She was thinking so hard of what to ask that she was caught off-guard when Akechi took her arm to stop her. “Here we are,” he said.  

Makoto paused and took a look around. “This is…”  

“The fishing pond,” Akechi said helpfully.

“Ah,” said Makoto. She was not sure if Akechi was making fun of her, or of what to think at all. “Well, it’s definitely an original idea.”

“It’s not a trendy date spot or anything,” Akechi admitted. “But I like this place.”

“I’ll say,” said Makoto. Short of trendy, the area was a little bizarre; oddly peaceful despite the train tracks just overhead and the high-rises looming close by, it felt like a strange sort of urban oasis. “Well, I’ll definitely have something to talk about when I’m next asked about us. But I don’t know if the others will form a very good impression of you when they find out you took your girlfriend here.”

“Embellish for me,” Akechi said with a smile as they entered. “Say someone asks you about this, and you’d like to bend the truth. What would you say?”

Makoto looked around dubiously. “I could say we went to the beach.”

Akechi shook his head. “Too far from the truth. Try again.”

Makoto sighed. “All right. You took me to a seafood restaurant. In Ichigaya.” She paused. “And I don’t remember the name.”

“Better,” Akechi said. “What was it like?”

“...We ate outside,” Makoto said, looking around, and then at the murky pond. “There was… a fountain near the seating area, and we could hear the water the whole time.”

Akechi looked pleased. “That’s almost plausible. Nice work, Niijima.”

“I’m not sure if I would call learning to deceive people nice work.” It was remarkably odd. She had only a few friends and didn’t associate with any troublemakers, just as she’d been taught, but Akechi, of all people, her cohort in the student council, was there to act as the bad influence in her life.

“Why do you like it here so much, anyway?” Makoto asked him, but before Akechi could reply a middle-aged man approached them as they stood on the boardwalk.  

“Ah, Akechi!” said the man. “So you’ve returned!”

“Hello,” Akechi said cheerfully, and turned on the charm, full blast. Makoto almost wanted to cover her eyes; he made himself that bright. “You’re looking well, Mr. Sato. How’s business?”

“Oh, there’s no need to worry about the affairs of an old man like me. Just make sure you do well in school! You’re working hard, aren’t you?”

Akechi laughed. “Of course. Though I’m glad that this place is here when I’d like a break.” He gestured at Makoto. “I brought my friend today as well.”

Makoto cleared her throat and smiled the most confident smile she could muster, first at the man, then at Akechi. “Hello, sir. But there’s no need to be shy. I’m his girlfriend.”

It was always satisfying when she managed to surprise Akechi; the dopey look on his face when it happened never got old. “Ha ha,” he said weakly.

The man’s eyebrows shot up. “So you’re making sure to enjoy high-school life, too, eh, Akechi? Well, you lovebirds are welcome here anytime!”  

“As long as I have the yen for it,” Akechi murmured to Makoto, out of the man’s earshot.

They each paid their own entrance fee and received a rod and some bait.

“Congratulations on that performance,” Akechi said dryly, as they walked over to go sit on some overturned crates.

Makoto smiled as she made herself comfortable. It was frigid; she was glad she had her jacket. “It’s nice to get some practice in.” She looked dubiously at her fishing rod. “You’ll help me, won’t you? I’ve never done this before.”

“Sure. It’s mostly a waiting game, anyway.”

Akechi helped her string her line and attach the bait, and then, after sitting in relative silence for a while, Makoto realized Akechi hadn’t been lying; this process necessitated patience. She felt herself growing restless.  

She glanced over at Akechi. He looked like the picture of perfect serenity as he kept his eyes trained on the water. Makoto sighed and tried to stop fidgeting.

It was a few minutes after that that she suddenly felt something, and let out an involuntary gasp.

“What?” Akechi asked.

“It’s– I feel a tug!”

“Well, then, lift the rod and reel it in. And pull, carefully.”

Feeling her heartbeat accelerate, Makoto leaned forward and nervously begin to turn the reel. She could feel resistance on the other end of the line, and held fast. There seemed to be less and less line as the fish drew closer, and then– one final tug, she could feel it–

“Ah!” Makoto gasped as she managed to pull the fish out of the water, standing straight up. The fish flopped and writhed, firmly held by the bait.

“Akechi, I–” Makoto said, turning to him with a grin that immediately morphed into a frown when she saw him laughing.

Through his giggling, Akechi managed, “Please, don’t be offended. I just– it’s quite an image to see someone like you with a fish that big.”

Makoto scowled and regarded the fish again. It really was large, with greenish scales and bulging eyes. Makoto didn’t really want to keep holding it. “Um…”  

“Put it in the bucket, you can go turn it in for points,” Akechi said. He frowned at his own rod. “Why haven’t I caught anything?”

“I’m sure your time will come,” Makoto replied.

“Hm,” Akechi said.

“Anyway,” Makoto said, settling down once again after depositing the fish in the bucket, “you didn’t explain why you like it here.”

“Ah, well… it’s one of my favorite places in the city, even if that Sato grates my nerves.”

“He seemed perfectly pleasant to me,” said Makoto.

Akechi didn’t acknowledge the response. “I like the novelty of it. That a place like this in Tokyo is frequented by businessmen and teenagers alike. And it’s relaxing, too. Fishing doesn’t require much skill.”

“And quiet,” Makoto said.

Akechi smiled. “Yes. During this time, there’s rarely anyone here.”  

“Thank you for showing me,” Makoto said. She was beginning to understand, how even though Akechi shone in front of people, he guarded himself closely. For him to take her here of his own accord was something she shouldn’t take for granted. “This is a good place to be alone.”

“I suppose so,” Akechi said lightly. “It’s nice to not have to worry about what people think. Some people are abysmal at fishing, and others much better, but everyone gains points based on skill. It’s a true meritocracy.”

“Not a microcosm of the capitalist superstructure?” Makoto said, in jest.

“Oh, what isn’t a microcosm of the capitalist superstructure?” Akechi replied. He closed his eyes and rested his chin in his hand, mouth turning up slightly at the corner as a beam of late-afternoon sunlight moved gently across his shoulders.

Makoto imagined a sudden equalizing force, a universal constancy; tried to envision how the world would look if everyone somehow understood each other, wholly and impossibly.

“What would you do if you didn’t have to pretend?” she said, without really thinking about it.

Akechi opened his eyes, and when he looked at her his gaze was suddenly alert.

She resisted the urge to take it back, and said, “In… front of everyone, I mean.”

It was a fumbled question, almost nonsensical, but Akechi seemed to understand anyway. He looked out, into the depths of the pond. “I’m not quite sure,” he said. Then he grinned. “Perhaps I’d turn the whole of Shujin into a fishing pond and sit there all day with my rod.”

“You really are childish,” Makoto muttered.

Akechi was laughing again. When he was really amused, his laugh was loud and catching, nothing like the pleasant chuckle she heard all the time from him in school. It was obnoxious, really. Makoto couldn’t keep from smiling, after a while of that.

“What about you?” asked Akechi, when he’d quieted down.

What about her? Makoto thought about it– what she’d almost said to Akechi, that day, the thought she couldn’t stop turning over in her head, the urge she could just barely suppress– I want to tear it in half.

All of a sudden, what she had to do seemed very simple. Makoto stood up. “Akechi,” she said. “Let’s go.”

“Sorry?” Akechi blinked.

“To Cloud Nine,” said Makoto. “Today is Thursday. That’s when the waitress said the co-owner will be there. It’s close enough to walk from here.”

“Didn’t you say earlier that you wanted to make a plan before we tried again? To present the owner with more evidence?” Akechi said dubiously.

“I want to do something,” said Makoto, “now.”  

“I’m not sure if…” Akechi tried, but Makoto was already getting up. She didn’t turn back to look, but she felt satisfied when she heard Akechi’s footsteps moving quickly behind her.  

NINE. NOTHING

“You’re going awfully quickly,” she heard Akechi say as they went on their way, past the rows of businesses, through the crosswalks, alongside the other pedestrians.

“Genetic differences resulting from geographic isolation,” Makoto shot back at him over her shoulder.

“Allopatric speciation,” Akechi huffed, jogging a little to get beside her. “Niijima, what do you plan to do?”

“Something,” Makoto replied, looking forward. It was quite possibly the most inarticulate reply she’d ever given to anything. But she had to direct all her energy into moving forward.

“Fine, then,” Akechi said, after a pause, and from then on he was quiet.  

They arrived at the restaurant soon enough; it was really only a short walk away, and Makoto only scanned it for a moment before she strode in purposefully through the door, Akechi following closely behind.

A few people looked up as she entered– it was busy for this time of day– but Makoto didn’t spare them a glance as she headed right to the counter. There was a woman standing behind it with her head bent low; Makoto couldn’t see her face.

“Excuse me,” Makoto said, and the woman looked up. She was middle-aged, with a friendly face, and had brown hair with wisps of gray in it pulled back into a bun.

“Hello,” she addressed Makoto with a tired smile. “Can I help–”  

“I want to know what you’re selling to students,” Makoto said.

The woman opened her mouth and regarded Makoto with surprise for a moment before she took a short breath and smiled awkwardly. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t–”

“Listen to me.” Makoto leaned forward, slamming both hands on the counter. “I’m the student-council president at Shujin Academy. I’m responsible for my peers, and I’m not going to let a threat to their well-being escape my notice. So you’d better show me what you’re hiding, because I’m not leaving this place until I find out.”

The woman shrank back with a small noise of surprise, looking unnerved. Then she glanced behind Makoto, at Akechi, so Makoto turned to regard him too.  

Akechi smiled. “I think you should listen to her, miss,” he said.

The woman hesitated, wringing her hands. Her eyes darted around the room, at the patrons, some of whom had heard and were looking over with confused expressions, and then back to Makoto and Akechi. Then she swallowed and appeared to steel herself before saying, quietly, “Please. Come with me, to the back room. I’ll tell you everything.”

She hurried out from behind the counter, ducking her head as she went past the two of them. They watched her move towards a door at the back area of the restaurant.

Makoto and Akechi exchanged incredulous looks.

“Well,” Akechi said softly. “It seems there was something here to investigate after all.” He brushed some hair out of his eyes. “Shall–”

But Makoto didn’t hear the rest, because she was already moving to follow the woman.

When she went in through the door, Akechi in tow, she found a mid-sized storeroom, lined with metal shelves. The door she’d flung open behind her swung back and forth for a few moments until it came to a stop. The woman had her back to them. She was carefully pushing boxes out of the way on one of the shelves, and made a brief noise when it appeared she found the one she was after. After taking it in her hands, she turned to them.

“It’s this week’s selection,” the woman said nervously. “I didn’t know– I didn’t mean any harm–”

“Just show us,” Makoto said crisply.  

The woman closed her mouth and opened the box, setting the lid aside. Warily, guiltily, she brought it forward. Makoto and Akechi came closer to take a look.

“Is that…” Makoto managed, and stopped, throat growing dry. “Are those…”   

“I’m sorry,” Akechi said. “What is this?”

“They’re herbal remedies,” said the woman.

Makoto paused. “What?”

“Herbal remedies,” the woman repeated. She seemed near-tears. “I’ve made my own for years now, and– I know they’re not for everybody, but they’re great for all sorts of maladies, they really are– and I thought people might have an interest in buying, so I... My husband– the other owner– he doesn’t think I should be selling them at the business, so I have to do it quietly, just through word-of-mouth– but I didn’t know it’d be such a problem! I’ll stop if I was doing something wrong– please, won’t you tell me if anything happened to those students?”

Makoto took another look at the collection of small, clearly-labeled plastic bags and jars inside the box. She glanced at Akechi. His mouth was hanging open. “I’m sorry,” she said slowly, turning back to the woman. “Would you excuse me?”

She turned around and walked back to the entrance, out of the restaurant, before numbly seating herself at one of the tables outside.

She was there for a few minutes before Akechi returned. In his hands he carried two small jars.

“You bought something,” said Makoto.

“Her name’s Mrs. Watanabe,” said Akechi. He held up one of the jars. “This one’s for an upset stomach.”

Makoto stared.

“She really does seem to know what she’s talking about, you know,” Akechi said. “I felt sorry for her, and I had some spare yen in my budget this week, so… After we talked for a few minutes, she took to me so well she threw this one in for free.” He placed the other jar on the table in front of her. “Apparently, the lavender and chamomile are supposed to reduce stress, so I thought you could use it.”

Makoto put her head in her hands.

She heard Akechi pull out a chair and sit across from her. “Well,” he said. “The rumors weren’t completely baseless.”

“Weird stuff,” Makoto said dumbly. She put her head in her hands. “I’m humiliated.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Akechi said cheerfully. “It was a great day for you. You caught a fish and terrorized an innocent woman.”

Makoto let her head slump down on the table. After all her determination. After that scene she’d made, the only grim secret she’d uncovered was an industrious housewife’s hobby.

She heard Akechi cough. “On the bright side, Niijima, there’s clearly no danger to students from herbal remedies.”

Makoto slowly raised her head and sighed. “That’s true.” Akechi was right, and Makoto felt a little better knowing it. She smiled slightly. “Even though I embarrassed myself completely, it’s good to know that I no longer have a reason to worry.”

“That’s right,” Akechi said. “Shujin is safe, for another day. This calls for a celebration, don’t you think?” He stood up. “So let’s go get coffee.”

They got coffee, at a café a good distance away from the restaurant, at Makoto’s request.

“For heaven’s sake, no one is going to follow us here,” Akechi said as Makoto shrunk down in her seat at the small table they were sharing.

“I know,” she muttered, stirring milk thoroughly into her drink. “Hey, Akechi.”

“Yes?”

“Do you still dislike me?” She wished it didn’t matter to her, but she wanted to know.

“Straightforward as always,” Akechi said. He propped up his chin with a hand and appeared to think over his response. “How’s this? You’re more amusing than I expected.”

Makoto sighed. “How kind of you. I didn’t know you were so desperate for entertainment.”

Akechi only smiled. “Well, how about you? Do you think of me differently?”

The answer was easy. One corner of Makoto’s mouth turned up in a half-smile. “I think,” she said, “that I’m finally beginning to understand how you think. And it’s nice to know.”

Akechi looked surprised. “...Oh?”

“I was suspicious of you without taking the time to know you.” Makoto looked down, at the milk slowly making billowing clouds in her cup. “I think… that being close-minded, in that way, may be a vice of mine.”

“Hm,” Akechi murmured. “In my case… well, I was sure I knew you. I thought I had you pegged.”

“As the spineless goody two-shoes, yes,” Makoto said.

“Well, I regret it, now I know you’re at least not spineless,” Akechi said, grinning. “That was quite the show of bravado.”

Makoto fidgeted. “You won’t tell anybody about it, will you?”

“Add it to the list of secrets between us,” Akechi said. “Anyway, regarding your vice– you’re forgetting that I never gave you any reason to trust me, Niijima. And I haven’t been particularly kind to you, either.” He gave her a look. “Has anyone ever told you your earnestness turns into self-flagellation far too quickly?”

“...Not exactly like that, but I’ve heard the gist before, yes. Even so… I judged you too quickly, and I apologize.”

“I have to admit, you continue to surprise me,” Akechi said. He laughed a little, a strange expression on his face. “No one’s… I don’t think anyone’s ever told me they like me better after coming to know me before.”

“I don’t like pretensions,” said Makoto, “even though you’ve made me aware that we each have to keep up our own. I like the genuine side of you that I’ve seen much better than the image you have at school– precisely because it’s genuine.” She smiled. “I definitely didn’t expect you to be a bad influence, encouraging me to break school rules and other such things, but it doesn’t bother me. I wonder why.”

“So I amuse you just as you amuse me,” Akechi said, taking a sip. “Like I said– quid pro quo.”

“Oh, please,” Makoto countered. “I doubt that principle still applies. After all, it was pointless, in the end, to even try and fake a relationship at the restaurant, but pretending to date at school had major consequences. There’s no equivalency.”

Akechi absently swept aside a strand of hair. “Well, it hasn’t been very effective at school, either, to tell you the truth. Girls are still hounding me. I think some of them have taken this relationship as a personal challenge.”

“If that’s the case,” Makoto said thoughtfully, “maybe we should break up.”

Akechi considered it. “It’s true that exams are coming up. And I can’t afford to be distracted.”

“I’m sure you can’t,” Makoto agreed, and grinned when Akechi scowled at her.

Akechi leaned back in his chair. “So we’re putting this to bed?”

“I suppose so,” said Makoto.

They were quiet for a moment. It seemed things between them would end as quietly as they began, with a reasoned argument and a mild acquiescence.

But did it all have to end like this? Would it go back to how it was– herself and Akechi, in the same room but on opposite poles, antagonistic and apart?

Makoto didn’t want it to. Enmity cost more than it was worth.

“You know,” Akechi said suddenly, “I’ve had fun. With all this.”

“Really?” Makoto said, smiling. “You don’t think it was a disaster?”

“Oh, no, most of it was disastrous,” Akechi said. “But… well.” He coughed. “I’m sure…”

Makoto supposed she wasn’t one to judge, but he really was emotionally constipated; it had an effect on his eloquence at times like these. “Maybe,” she said, going out on a limb, “there isn’t a very large gap between mutual amusement and friendship.”

Akechi appeared taken aback for a second, and then he cracked a slow smile. “Are you sure we’ll be able to put up with each other, Niijima? How like you to take up such a challenge.”

“Don’t tell me you’re backing down,” Makoto said, grinning. “I expect more from you, you know. Now, about school, I have an idea…”  

TEN. SOMETHING

A week later they broke up. Though Makoto planned the whole thing, it was more theatrical than strictly necessary, which embarrassed her a little when she thought about it after the fact. Akechi really was rubbing off on her.

The student-council meeting was about budgets, a topic which didn’t give much room to be contentious, but it wasn’t as if she and Akechi had ever had any problems disagreeing. And Akechi gave her plenty of good openings in the way of barely-restrained smug remarks, so it wasn’t that difficult to choose one and take the opportunity to lean forward, gaze at him squarely in the eye, and say “If I may, I think your attitude may be deterring our coming to a decision, Akechi.”

Akechi smiled a steel-edged smile and said “Do you really think so? Perhaps it’s simply your incompetence that’s derailing this meeting.”

Makoto stood up from her seat for the full effect. The treasurer and the secretary both gawked, looking from her to Akechi. He was never usually this openly disrespectful. Then again, these weren’t ordinary circumstances.

“I’d ask that you keep any personal feelings out of this discussion,” she said, with as much force as she could muster, “so that your petty issues don’t keep you from blatant insubordination.”

Akechi stood up, then, too. “You’ve already made that impossible,” he declared. “Since throughout this meeting, you’ve shown me no respect at all.”

“I’m beginning to think this meeting has been nothing but a mistake,” Makoto said cuttingly.

Akechi’s hand flew to his chest in apparent shock, as if he was a heartbroken love interest in a Victorian romance. Overacting, Makoto thought, but she waited.

“If that’s what you think,” Akechi continued dramatically, eyes flickering over to the door he’d left a little ajar, “then perhaps we should simply end this meeting, once and for all.”

“Perhaps we should,” Makoto snapped back.

“Fine!” Akechi replied, with venom.

“Fine,” Makoto said.

And with that, Akechi turned up his nose and walked out the door.

The treasurer and secretary sat in shocked silence.

“Well,” said Makoto, “back to work.”

She texted Akechi, after the meeting was over: Great job. You really should reconsider joining the theatre club.

The reply came within a few minutes– I couldn’t possibly, I’ve no time. And if you only do a single show, you go down as a legend, you know. :-)

News spread quickly after that. By the middle of the next day, it became common knowledge that Makoto and Akechi were no longer a couple, and that they’d had a dramatic falling-out, to boot. But no one seemed to have a clear grasp on who’d been the one to end it. Makoto recalled Akechi’s plan to posit himself as the heartbroken one of the pair, and waited for the tide of rumor to turn in that direction, but it hadn’t yet. Perhaps he’d changed his mind.

Along with that, it happened that some Shujin students were at Cloud Nine when Makoto had intimidated the owner. That news spread, too. Suddenly, Makoto had a new reputation– as the reckless, assertive, and perhaps slightly unhinged student-council president, fiercely and almost frighteningly protective of her peers.

It wasn’t exactly what she’d envisioned, but, well… she’d wished for a change, hadn’t she?

Surprisingly, she felt almost serene about everything. Perhaps the reason she’d been so unhappy, so unsatisfied, was because of her own inaction. All of her anxiety and the atmosphere of Shujin had made forward progress seem impossible, but it wasn’t, not at all. That idea was just something she’d placated herself with, as an excuse for ignorance, but when she’d done something, despite how foolish and ill-thought-out it was– it had felt good. It had felt right.

She wanted to keep trying and pressing forward, again and again, to get that feeling back, and because she knew that to stay stationary would be unfair to herself. It would mean a betrayal– of the memory of her father, maybe, or her own beliefs, the essence of what made Makoto herself.

So maybe she really was changing, and maybe it wasn’t too late, after all.  

Exams came and went, and upon checking her marks afterward Makoto was flabbergasted to discover that she and Akechi had gotten the same grade, for the first time since early first year. After she’d gotten over a brief period of stubborn moping and the blow to her pride, she decided that perhaps it was a cause for celebration.

One morning, when she’d caught Sae in a good mood over her coffee, she ventured to ask– “Would it be okay if I invited a friend over for dinner this weekend?”

Her sister raised her eyebrows, looking up from some paperwork she’d been considering while sitting by the kitchen counter. “Eiko?”

“Ah, no,” said Makoto. “Goro Akechi.”

“Who’s– wait.” Sae leaned forward. “You don’t mean vice-president Akechi? The boy you complain about?”

“Well,” Makoto said awkwardly, “yes. But circumstances have changed.”

Sae furrowed her brow and regarded Makoto for a moment before remarking, “I’d ask if they’ve changed in a very specific way, but I don’t have to worry about that with you.”

Her tone was casual, but Makoto couldn’t keep a wide smile from spreading across her face. She turned away to hide her expression. “No, you don’t,” she said.

Her sister remembered. Despite everything, despite the awkwardness between them that sometimes felt so palpable– she hadn’t forgotten the time Makoto confided in her.

It wasn’t as if she and Sae were the closest of family, or that they even ate together very often. But to think of Akechi, always coming home to an empty apartment... Living with Sae was lonely, sometimes, but at least she knew she was never really by herself.

Someone her age, who appeared to be, for all intents and purposes, completely alone– how had she disregarded it for so long? It was just another thing she’d missed, even though it was right under her nose, because of her own biases, her own assumptions. But this would be the last time she’d make a mistake like that. From now on, she would be vigilant.

Makoto saw a good opportunity to extend the invitation to Akechi later, when they found themselves fishing again. She still thought it was an odd activity, but it really was surprisingly relaxing, for all the reasons Akechi had mentioned before. They had to deal with the old man’s comments, as he was still under the impression that they were in a relationship, but other than that, it suited them nicely. For one thing, it was an activity that provided meager opportunity to compete, so they could actually relax in each other’s presences.  

“So,” Makoto said, when she was done explaining. “Are you able to come?”

“To your… home?” Akechi asked, blinking.

“Yes,” Makoto said, and didn’t know what else to say.

“Ah, well, I mean– It’s not– I can check my schedule, but I don’t know if…”  Akechi was looking away.

Makoto came to a sudden understanding. From what she’d seen so far, it seemed like Akechi was inexperienced with being on the receiving end of friendly gestures– she should really make a note of this so she knew how to proceed in the future– so logically, it would be much more sensible of her if she phrased her request in another way.

“I’m cooking,” Makoto said quickly. “It’s a recipe I haven’t tried yet, so having someone else there to give an opinion on the food would be helpful. I would really appreciate it.”

“Well,” Akechi said, relaxing. “If it’s– I mean, only if I could be of assistance. I wouldn’t want to be any trouble.”

Makoto smiled. It always felt good to to have a theory test well. “You wouldn’t be. None at all.”

“Well,” Akechi murmured, “I suppose I’ll make time, then. Saturday evening, yes?”

Makoto nodded. “I’ll send you my address.”

“Right,” Akechi said. He cleared his throat. “Thank you for the invitation. Anyway– I heard that the second-year English teacher at school is in trouble with the administration…”  

Talking to Akechi was nice, now that they’d gotten to know each other. It was nice to have someone with whom to discuss things she’d read in the news, or her frustrations with how things were at Shujin. That, and Akechi was always full of gossip, and had clearly been itching to share all that he knew with someone. The list of things they only trusted each other with was increasing– and wasn’t it strange, when a short while ago she’d barely tolerated him?

“Well, I have news for you, though you’ll have to keep it to yourself,” Makoto said, after Akechi had finished with his story. She took a breath. “I came out to Eiko.”

Akechi turned to her, eyes widening.

Makoto coughed. “She asked me about what happened between us, and I… I couldn’t lie to her any longer.”

“How did she react?” Akechi said quietly.

Makoto smiled wryly. “Well, she was definitely confused as to why you and I were together. It took some time to get her to understand.” She paused. “It wasn’t really the best of plans.”

“It had its merits,” Akechi contested. “Well… maybe we overthought things.”

“Or underthought, rather,” Makoto said. “Anyway, after that… well. She called me a hero for the whole incident with the herbal remedies, for pretending to be something I wasn’t for the sake of everyone else, even though I said that was absolutely an exaggeration, and then she said…” She bit her lip. “She said she was proud of me.”

And suddenly her eyes were welling up with tears, and she had always feared crying in front of Akechi, but just then the prospect didn’t seem as awful as it once did, so Makoto let out a sob before burying her face in her hands.

Just a moment, she thought, as her shoulders shook. For just a moment she could let go, and then she would come back to herself.    

“Ah… There, there…” She felt Akechi’s hand awkwardly pat her back.

For that one moment, Makoto didn’t think about how she must have looked, about how she should behave. And then, finally, she took a deep breath, wiped her eyes, and looked up. “I’m sorry. I forgot myself.”  

“Niijima,” Akechi said, rubbing the back of his neck. When he put aside his polished grace and practiced manners, he seemed much younger, much more like a boy. “I’m happy for you.”

“Makoto,” said Makoto.

“Ah– sorry?”

“Makoto is fine.” She gave him a watery smile.

“Oh. I suppose you can–” He opened his mouth and closed it again. “I suppose you could call me Goro, if you really felt a strong inclination to."

They were silent for a moment.

“Um,” said Makoto.  

“We can start tomorrow,” Akechi suggested quickly.

Makoto nodded, relieved. “Right. Tomorrow. And Akechi… if you ever…if you’d ever like to tell anyone else, I’ll be there for you, in whichever way I can.”

Akechi looked at her with surprise for a moment. Then he turned to look at the water.

“A while ago,” Akechi said, “you asked me what I’d do. If I didn’t have to pretend in front of anybody.”

“Yes,” said Makoto. “I remember you made a bad joke.”

Akechi smiled slightly, but then his expression changed, to something blank and vacant. It was a look Makoto had seen him wear only a few times before.

“What you must have heard about me,” he said, with a calm tone. “About my family. It’s a lie.”

Makoto straightened. “What?”

“My mother’s dead,” Akechi said. “And my father’s in prison.”

For a moment, Makoto thought she must have misheard, but when she saw the hard, resolute look in Akechi’s eyes, she realized otherwise. Immediately, she wanted to know everything– Prison? How? When? Why? – but she bit back all her questions and blurted, “Akechi. I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve never been to see him. If I didn’t have to pretend,” Akechi said calmly, “if I didn’t have any limits, then I’d go there, without giving a damn about who saw me. And I’d go right up to his cell, and–” he laughed, coldly– “I don’t know what I’d do to anyone who got in my way. And then I’d–”

He smiled bitterly. “Maybe I’d just scream,” Akechi said. “Maybe I’d just rage and throw a tantrum, like a child. To make him listen to me.”

Makoto couldn’t think of what to say. Tentatively, she reached up and placed a hand on Akechi’s shoulder. He slumped a little, and she thought she saw some of his tenseness ease.

“But that wouldn’t be practical, of course,” Akechi said vaguely. “After all, I’m still supported in part by money I receive from his account. Despite it all, I still need him.”

“It isn’t fair,” Makoto said quietly.

“No,” Akechi agreed softly. “I think– perhaps it isn’t other people’s expectations that really constrain me. It’s– I’m so angry at him, Niijima. It’s that holding me back, more than anything.”

Makoto didn’t respond for a moment. Curiosity still burned at her, but she knew she couldn’t be careless, here. This was the most Akechi had ever trusted her with all at once. She couldn’t afford to fall into the folly of a hasty response or a thoughtless interrogation.

“I think that being angry doesn’t necessarily have to be a limitation,” she said carefully. “Especially if that anger is righteous.” Her face reddened. “I don’t mean to sound like a character in some TV show, of course, but…” She paused. “There’s a lot in the world to be angry about, but what’s important is you don’t give up. Because once you begin to put your frustration towards improving the world, or improving yourself, anger can… empower you, instead.” She looked away, embarrassed. “Well, that’s what I think.”

Akechi’s voice was low. “What makes you angry?”

“I– don’t–”

“Tell me,” Akechi said, swiveling to look at her. “I want to know, Niijima, if you feel how I do.”

For a moment, she was at a loss. And then, she resisted the temptation to soften her speech, to prepare her words. She opened her mouth and spoke.  

“Some days– everything. I know– I know how lucky I am, how privileged, but sometimes, when I remember what’s expected of me–” She clutched tightly at the fabric of her skirt. “I know they want to erase everything about me that makes me myself. They want me to follow their orders and become a machine, who’ll graduate and attend a good college and quietly assimilate into a job where I don’t make any trouble, and sometimes I want a life like that and sometimes I don’t, but–

Makoto took a breath. “And they don’t want to hear about who I am, what I want, and I’m tired of listening to Kobayakawa, and I’m tired of telling people I’m waiting until college to find a boyfriend, and of being told I’m a spoiled little girl who couldn’t possibly understand how the world works– and– well.”

She cleared her throat and glanced at Akechi. He was looking back at her, and listening with an intent expression.

“I don’t even know what I’m angry at, sometimes,” she finished. “But I’m angry.”

Akechi looked at the sky. Then, he said, clearly, “Fuck Kobayakawa.”

Makoto laughed helplessly. “Fuck him,” she agreed.

“He really is an incompetent fool, isn’t he?” Akechi was beginning to snicker. “It feels so good to– I had a feeling you thought so, but you never actually said–”

“Because I couldn’t, but a child could run Shujin better than he does,” Makoto cut in. Akechi laughed again, and Makoto stopped trying to hold back her own mirth.

“And fuck... small-minded fools,” Akechi said finally, after they’d quieted. He closed his eyes briefly before opening them again. “I can tell,” he said, “that you’re stronger because of your anger. I hope you’ll never give in. But I’m not sure if the same could be said for me. I don’t feel very strong at all.”

“But I can tell, too,” Makoto said urgently, “that you’re smart and driven, and you won’t give up. I know you’ll accomplish anything you set your mind to.” She wanted to say more. She wanted to ask Akechi how he’d gone on without a family, when Makoto was still clinging to the last remaining vestiges of her own. She wanted to tell him he could rely on her. But she knew that this much, for now, was enough.

Akechi laughed. “You expect a lot from me.”

“I do, so don’t let me down.” He’d always impressed her, hadn’t he? Even when he was being obnoxious, when they’d barely known each other– she could tell how intelligent he really was.

“If I can’t–” Akechi sounded tentative. “If I can’t see it yet, a pathway for change or a way to move forward– am I a bad person?” He smiled tiredly at her. “Do I disappoint you?”

They really were similar. All this time, and she hadn’t realized.

“No,” Makoto said, “you don’t, not at all. But I know one day you’ll find it. I hope… I hope we’ll both find a way to be ourselves. I have to believe it.”

“Mm, and perhaps we’ll find it through impassioned declarations about herbal remedies,” Akechi said, and smiled widely when she glared at him. “I’m just kidding. You really are an idealist…. You know, I never asked. What do you want to do after graduation?”

“I’ll take entrance exams for schools in Tokyo,” Makoto replied. “I’m considering studying law.”

“How funny. I’m considering studying law,” said Akechi.

They glared at each other.

“If we end up competing,” said Makoto, “I don’t want you to show me any mercy.”

Akechi smirked. “I’d ask the same of you, but I never expect you to be merciful.”

“Good,” said Makoto.

Akechi chuckled. “Thank you,” he added. “About what you said, about being there, if I were to– come out to anyone. You’re the only–” He looked away from her. “I’d like to be there for you, too.”

“Of course,” Makoto said. “And, Akechi... I know it’s difficult, but if you ever trust anyone enough… then I’ve already told you that it helps to be honest. About a lot of things– not just this."

“Easier said than done,” Akechi said wryly. “Often I find that I’m not even sure if I know enough about who I am to be honest.”

“Do you think I understand who I am?” said Makoto. “I’m not so sure anyone I know does– who’s our age, at least.”

“You seem to know it pretty well,” Akechi said, glancing at her. “You’re remarkably self-aware. I really was wrong about you.”

“I’m glad that’s the impression I give off,” Makoto said wryly, “because I find frequently I have no idea who I want to be.”

“Ha,” Akechi said, smiling. “Tell me something– have you been lying, lately?”

“I haven’t seen a need to,” Makoto said primly.

“I suppose that’s for the best,” Akechi mused. “Just don’t forget my teachings.”

Makoto paused. “You know, Akechi… you taught me how to lie, but don’t lie to yourself.”

To her chagrin, Akechi actually laughed out loud, doubling over and placing a hand over his mouth. “What a line, Makoto. What movie did you take it from?”

“I was being sincere,” Makoto said indignantly, “and I thought we were starting with names tomorrow, Goro!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Akechi said, laughing again. “Thank you… I appreciate it. You know, I expect a lot from you, too. You’re… capable, and intelligent, and far more kindhearted than I am, not to mention more dedicated to student-council work. I’m glad I had the wrong impression of you.”

Makoto looked over at him, eyes wide.

“...What is it?” Akechi said warily.

“You’ve never been that kind to me before. I’m only taking a moment to process it.”

Akechi huffed. “Really, Makoto,” he said, opening his mouth to continue, but all of a sudden he gasped and lifted his rod. At last, he’d felt a tug on his line.

There was a lot she still felt like talking about, Makoto thought, as she watched Goro frantically reel in the fish– graduation, and university, and the things they’d have to do to find a place to belong– but it was only the end of one afternoon, and there would be time for that later. She was more confident than she’d been in a long time, more energetic, too, and it no longer seemed so difficult to become the person she wanted to be.

Getting there felt possible, and that was enough.