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“This is it,” Shuichi says into the carpet. He’s lying facedown on the floor, breathing in dust and the vague smell of the orange soda Himiko spilled there a few months ago. Lifting his head up, he gazes balefully at Maki, who raises her brow. “This is how everything ends, Maki-san. My future, my career, my whole life.”
Maki looks even more bored. “Is that so, Saihara?” she drones out. “Just because you failed a test?”
“I-it isn’t simply a test, a lot depe—”
“Give me your phone.” Without thinking about it, he scrambles up and hands it to her. “I’m emailing the professor and asking them if you can retake it. With how much of a nerd you are, there’s no way they won’t say no.”
His brain having finally engaged, Shuichi thinks about protesting, but Maki’s already tapping away with wanton. Plus… she is, in fact, correct: his grades are quite nice, and most of the professors love him and his curious questions. This one in particular (Sociology III, a sharp middle-aged woman who worked as a forensic expert), is no exception. Shuichi shrugs and flops onto the couch. He could do his homework, but the brief meltdown on the carpet sapped too much energy out of him.
The door opens and Himiko steps inside, clutching her bookbag and frowning. “P.E. classes suck,” she says as a greeting.
“Good afternoon,” Shuichi says as Maki waves without taking her eyes off his phone. “I’m sorry you feel this way.” Himiko makes a thankful grunt and, after dropping her bag on a chair, walks into their tiny kitchen to peruse the fridge and cabinets.
“Can we order something?” she asks hopefully.
Maki throws Shuichi’s phone onto his lap and stands up to stretch. “Nope. We had pizza on Wednesday, so today we’re cooking. I’m making soup.”
Shuichi wrinkles his nose. Maki’s soups can be either quite okay or wholly unpalatable, depending on whatever ingredients she’s scored on sale.
“I hate being a poor student,” Himiko voices his thoughts.
The three of them met in high school and, against all odds and weird looks, became friends. Shuichi himself doesn’t exactly know how it happened, considering none of them were that sociable, but after a class project and a heated text thread later — they kept texting, then hanging out in a library or cafe. After realizing all of them were going to the same university, they decided to rent a small apartment a few bus stops away from the campus, nearby the kindergarten where Maki’s working part-time. Shuichi helps out his uncle at his detective agency when the class schedule allows him, then comes back to Himiko practicing her magic tricks in the living room or Maki swearing at her textbooks. It’s all — a bit hectic sometimes.
But it’s not like he’s complaining. At least his life isn’t too boring.
“I’m going to dig Freud up and punch him,” Maki says to her laptop. Shuichi pauses working on his essay to take a sip of his lukewarm tea.
“That’s quite extreme,” he replies carefully. Maki snorts.
“The bastard deserves it.”
Maki’s major is Russian literature. Why is she even reading about Freud? Shuichi doesn’t want to know in the slightest.
During the English course in the first year, Shuichi and Maki shared a class and had the pleasure of meeting Momota-kun, an astrophysics student with a potty mouth and too much energy, who decided to take them under his wing. That’s how he puts it.
Maki calls it “incessant annoyance.”
But six out of ten times, when Momota invites them to party with half the college, she does end up going. Mostly to drink cheap beer and beat Momota’s beefy bros in arm wrestling, truth be told, but Momota doesn’t seem to mind.
“That’s the university lifestyle, for fuck’s sake,” he tells them during one dorm party. They’re hanging out in the dining room, watching Iruma-san and Amami-kun play beer pong. She cheers as she lands the ball in his cup.
“So loud,” Shuichi murmurs helplessly. Maki, curled up around a bowl of chips, rolls her eyes. When he reaches for a chip, she bats his hand away. “Hey!”
“They’re mine,” she shoots back.
“But you let Himiko-san have some.”
Despite the loud music, Himiko’s napping on the armchair. Her hair is braided into a crown, courtesy of Chabashira-san.
“Is that so.” Without breaking eye contact, Maki puts another chip into her mouth. Momota laughs and calls Shuichi a dork, then gets up to join the impromptu game of Twister happening in the corner. Iruma-san spots it and vaults herself over the couch, almost kicking Shuichi in the head.
Himiko snores.
The exam session comes and goes, followed by the summer months. Shuichi tries to get started on his new textbooks early but late July’s moist heat puts a quick end to it. With the cheap box fan Maki bought a year ago humming in the background, he ends up connecting his laptop to the TV and playing a bunch of old crime shows while his roommates raid nearby shops in search of ice cream.
His phone pings with a notification from the Crim Law II group chat. Shuichi groans, realizing how much reading he has been putting off, and opens it to a message from Ouma-kun.
It’s a link to a conspiracy theory video.
Shuichi puts his phone away and lets his head thump against the armrest. With the girls gone, he’s been able to stretch out on the couch; he’s uncomfortably sweaty and still too hot, but a nice afternoon nap doesn’t seem too bad of an idea. He turns off the TV and closes his eyes. His heat-muddled mind doesn’t take long to shut down.
He wakes up to Maki putting a cold beer can on the back of his neck. Shuichi squeaks and jumps halfway out of his skin, flailing wildly before realizing what the hell happened and glaring as he sits up. Lips twitching in clear amusement, Maki hands him the can and flops onto the couch with one of her own. She looks very pleased with herself.
Upon checking out the label to confirm the drink’s alcohol-free, Shuichi pulls off the tab to take a long sip. “I owe you,” he murmurs. Maki flops her hand.
“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” she says after drinking as well, making Shuichi raise his eyebrow quizzically. “While Yumeno and I were out shopping, the place where I sent my internship application decided to call me.”
Shuichi nods his head in appreciation. “My congratulations. May I ask what that place is, though?”
“A private middle school that wants me to teach Russian.” Maki deflates slightly. “They were offering the best salary, but I bet the kids there will be spoiled and annoying as all hell.”
“Yikes.”
“Yikes indeed.” Maki raises her beer, as if to toast someone. “Do you know Amami?”
Shuichi knows Amami. Shuichi has bought an edible from Amami. “Vaguely,” he says.
“Two of his sisters go there. I babysat them once.” Maki wrinkles her nose in disgust. “Just once.”
The same case as with the aforementioned edibles. Shuichi doesn’t say that, instead waving to Himiko as she joins them in the room. She makes a tired grunt and perches herself on the ratty armchair, her face reddened with heat. It’s pretty apparent that she got sunburnt whilst outside, most likely having forgotten about sunscreen again.
“I almost want the summer break to end,” she groans out. “Ugh. Almost.”
The summer break ends, bringing about the second semester struggles and harder classes. Shuichi’s Criminal Justice professor has them write an essay each two weeks, Maki hates her internship with a burning passion, and Himiko— well. During one of her uni-mandated theatre excursions, she catches an awful case of flu that has her taking over the sofa with a spread of blankets, tissue boxes, and empty soda bottles. She’s reading a thick play, pausing every few moments to blow her nose. Each time, it sounds like a small animal dying in agony.
Shuichi shakes his head and makes more tea.
“Kids these days,” Maki says as she drops her bag by the entrance. Her hair is coming undone from the tight bun, sticking to her forehead; her clothes are soaking wet. “Whoever is responsible for spoiling them this much shouldn’t be responsible for a gerbil.”
“Hear, hear,” Shuichi says sympathetically. Himiko grumbles a greeting from her cocoon, her reading abandoned in favor of watching a trashy J-drama on Shuichi’s laptop. They’re twelve episodes in and getting startlingly hooked on the theatrics, insults, and heartfelt love confessions. Shuichi tells himself it’s a psychological study, somehow squashing the guilt. Himiko, on the other hand, has been wholly unapologetic about drowsily quoting the more memorable lines.
“I see. You two are having fun eating shrimp chips and flattening your brains with this trash,” Maki grumbles out, rolling her eyes, “while I am slaving away with those brats, earning hard money for—”
Himiko sneezes loudly. Maki looks at her for a while.
“Tea?” Shuichi asks politely. After receiving two affirming nods, he collects the empty cups from the table and puts them in the sink. As the water bubbles away in the kettle, he rifles through the collection of tea samples they’ve picked up during various job interviews or uni conferences. In the end, he makes some green tea with pieces of dry fruits and manages to carry all three cups back to the girls without spilling the piping hot drink onto his bare feet. Success.
Maki’s staring raptly at the screen. Her jaw is slack with utter astonishment. “Why does this exist?” she whispers. “Do people actually believe romance would go this way?”
Shuichi shrugs, cheeks heating up. “Not like I know,” he mumbles out and steals a blanket (Himiko doesn’t notice, thankfully) before settling on the armchair, hot cup cradled in both hands.
“Ha!” Maki smirks. Now that she’s changed into dry clothes and wrapped a towel around her head, her mood has visibly improved. “That’s because you don’t have the confidence to ask Akamatsu out instead of continuing to mope around like a kicked dog.”
“She’s out of my league,” Shuichi says helplessly. “And aren’t all of us in the same boat?”
“Yeah,” Himiko says at the same time as Maki says,“Do not lump me in.”
Himiko and Shuichi share a look. He’s pretty sure their bemused expressions are quite similar.
“B-but,” Shuichi chokes out, “you haven’t, ah, haven’t told us about anyone!”
“Nyeh,” Himiko says, shaking her head. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Why, you need not be aware of each and every part of my life,” Maki says, raising one brow in amusement. “I can do with it whatever I wish.”
“Of course you can,” Shuichi says softly, making Maki pause and blink owlishly. “I was merely curious. If you’ve found my prodding too irritable, you can tell me to stop.”
For a beat, the atmosphere feels heavier, but not in an unpleasant way. Tighter, more intimate. Warmer. Maki’s lips twitch in a small, genuine smile. Shuichi steadily holds her gaze, once again thanking fate for letting him share the everydays with two of his best friends.
Then Himiko says, “Did you date Momota?”
The moment goes straight to the gutter. Shuichi sighs, watching Maki’s expression go through a myriad of emotions before setting on the usual coolness. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she says.
They have to rewind the show because Shuichi cannot focus on the plot and ends up confused. Himiko hits him with a pillow; he takes it with utter weariness.
Maki’s internship goes quite well. She warms up to the kids, even teaching some swear words. After a parent finds out, there are some disciplinary actions that end up with a reduced pay but no mention of the incident in her papers. Maki takes it in stride.
“This is what freedom tastes like,” she says just before downing an entire can of cheap white wine.
Poetic.
One October evening, Shuichi doesn’t help at his uncle’s agency, nor does he study in his apartment, nothing of the usual stuff. Instead, he’s wearing his best shirt and pants, as dressed up as he could afford, while sitting in a theatre gallery and waiting for the curtains to rise. Maki’s in the seat next to him, impeccable in a modest black dress and chiseled make-up.
“This is quite intense,” Shuichi whispers, tipping his head towards her. “Everyone here looks straight out of a fashion magazine. If they knew how cheap my clothes wear, they’d rip me apart like a pack of lions.”
“Stop freaking out, Saihara,” Maki whispers back, elbowing him in the ribs; Shuichi barely holds back a breathless wheeze. “We’re here because of Yumeno. Focus on the stage, as it is the very point of watching a play. I thought that’s basic knowledge.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Shuichi sighs, digging his fingertips into his knees. “We’re here for Himiko-san and need to give her our support.”
“Whatever,” Maki says, sounding quite nonchalant. Shuichi doesn’t really bother thinking about it — and, in the end, after the curtain falls for the last time, she’s the last one to stop clapping.
But, after Himiko passes out in the aftermath, Shuichi is the one carrying her home. Maki’s grace has its limits.
There’s another exam session. Shuichi spends more time facedown on the floor. Yes, he’s being dramatic, and what about it? He’s allowed to express his woes however he wants when his life is crumbling into pieces.
“It’s not crumbling into pieces, Saihara,” Maki says, bumping his shoulder with her socked foot. He groans. “Stop that. Hey, Shuichi.” He’s startled at the sound of his first name, enough that he finds the energy to look up. Maki frowns as she announces, voice almost soft, “You’re being a big baby.”
And there is that.
“Mm. Last time you thought you’d failed, you got a perfect grade, didn’t you?” Himiko points out from her cocoon of blankets on the armchair. Today’s her turn to pick a movie for the evening so she’s making them see a documentary on Stanislavski. Shuichi doesn’t need to watch it to feel lost.
He sighs heavily and joins Maki on the sofa, where she elbows him in the side as a greeting. They stay silent for a while, keeping their eyes on the tiny screen of Himiko’s laptop.
“We can’t stay up too late, though,” Maki murmurs after a while, crossing her arms. “I have a lecture at eight in the morning tomorrow, one that requires a bit of research in advance because the professor is a bonehead. What a bother.”
Shuichi nods, then realizes he hasn’t done his homework yet. Then he decides not to worry about it for now. Himiko points out something in the movie and starts chattering about it with excitement; he listens to her and nods with a hapless smile.
Here he is, twenty-one years old and a college student, doing young and stupid things with his friends, his life perhaps not crumbling into pieces in the end.
There are worse things that could happen.