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1
“Hey, Tsugu-chan!”
Being nine years old was a difficult task. Tsugumi was at that age where she wanted to be taken seriously and grow up somewhat, but wouldn’t be treated as such, because, well… even if she didn’t see it back then, she was just a kid.
And clearly her peers didn’t see it either.
“Who do you have a crush on?”
A… crush? She gazed up at her two classmates standing above her, their eyes alight with a gossip-based interest.
“Huh? I don’t have a crush…”
“Eh? C’mon, there’s gotta be someone!” The first girl insisted. “What about that popular boy in the other class?”
“Oooh, I love him!” added the second girl. “All the girls do! Seriously, haven’t you noticed?”
Tsugumi had noticed, but… she knew it was just their desire to be more mature. She held a similar want - it just presented itself in a different way. And what was so advanced about having a crush anyway? Tsugumi worked in her dad’s shop! She made an income! All they did was play mums and dads at breaktime!
“Um… no, there really isn’t anyone.” They didn’t even talk to the boys outside of lessons, yet she had heard her peers raving on about being in love with each of them. How could they be in love with someone they didn’t even know? “I don’t really mind though…”
“Aw, c’mon! You can tell us!” The first girl persevered again. “We won’t tell, we pinky swear! I’ll even tell you my crush!”
“Me too!”
The two in question had grown a few centimetres taller than her by that age, and had earlier birthdays, but surely those few details wouldn’t make much of a difference. She knew they weren’t that far apart maturity-wise.
Right then, though… she felt they were miles apart. Even though they were probably faking their crushes, they seemed so genuinely excited by the idea of it all. Didn’t that make her the odd one out for being indifferent to it?
So…
“Um… I guess so,” she gave in. Scanning around for a boy that wasn’t too popular or unpopular (she was careful not to ignite a controversy), Tsugumi was able to locate and lock in the first one she saw. Raising a finger to point with, she announced, “Him.”
“Woaaah! He’s so cute! He’s definitely in the oldest class!”
“He’s almost a secondary school boy… Tsugu-chan, you’re cheeky!”
It didn’t matter to her; she didn’t even know him. She wanted to fit in, and hopefully not draw too much attention to this presumed “crush” lest they find out how weak her story was.
No, it meant nothing to her at all.
But when she went home that night, she forced herself to dream of him and fabricated a story, trying hard to feel the magical feelings everyone else said they did.
2
When she went to secondary school, Tsugumi found that being nearly twelve was even harder.
This time, everyone seemed to be buzzing with the excitement of crushes and romance - and Tsugumi knew a large handful weren’t lying. It was on everyone’s minds, all the time, and it was the driving force of conversation.
How could she tell? Because it was a friend’s sleepover, only girls were allowed and not for the first time, all pre-teen girls wanted to talk about was romance.
Tsugumi was wondering what else being feminine was about at this point.
“19, 20, 21!”
“Aww, no fair! Why’s it always me?” Himari whined.
Well, there was one good thing about being here: Himari was there. She and Tsugumi had known each other since they were kids, and she knew she had a friend in her - one that, as love-obsessed as she was (and she was by far the most obsessed out of the group), provided a certifiably fun time even when that was all she talked about these days.
“Okay, your dare is…” The culprit drummed on the carpet in suspense, enticing others to join in until their drumroll met its climax. “To call the boy you have a crush on and confess to him!”
“Huh?” Was she really so surprised? Boys were the only thing anyone wanted to talk about tonight… apart from when the pizzas would be ready. “Uhh, do I have to? I don’t really… well…”
“Of course you do! Besides, you haven’t even mentioned your crush tonight!” That roused a chorus of “ooooo”s from every girl in the circle - just about including Tsugumi, who joined in slightly late.
“Well… uh, the guy I’m crushing on is kinda private…” Himari hemmed and hawed. “I don’t really know if I can do it, haha…”
Something was wrong. She couldn’t quite theorise why, but something inside of Tsugumi told her that this entire thing was deeply, deeply wrong.
Tsugumi knew Himari would always be the first to jump at any romance-related opportunity, from matchmaking to lunchtime gossip. But this— this was different.
Himari seemed almost scared.
“Come on, what are you backing out for? It’s a dare, you have to do it!” One of the girls insisted. “We just wanna help you with your crush! After all, you haven’t even made any moves yet. I went to the cinema with my crush last week!”
“And mine invited me to the Halloween disco!” another chimed in.
Despite all their encouragement, it seemed to be more like pressure to Himari, who looked like the walls were closing in on her. Tsugumi was about to work up the courage to speak before Himari swallowed her fears (or maybe retreated further into them) and announced, “Fine, I’ll do it”.
The circle all cheered, a few shuffling in closer to her phone.
“So, who you gonna call?” one asked. “If it’s my crush, I won’t forgive you.”
A few laughed at that; a different girl gulped.
“Um… I-I guess… the guy I was close to in primary school?”
Again the group erupted in a harmony of “ooooo”s - and one overly enthusiastic “get it Hima-chan!”.
All throughout, Tsugumi couldn’t stitch up the pit in her stomach; instead, it only grew deeper.
She just wanted to take Himari away from here - shove that phone in her pocket and walk her out. But this was what girls did, right? This is what all teenagers liked. Tsugumi was a teenager, and so was Himari.
Teenage girls like teenage boys. It had always been that way.
Shaking nervously from the butterflies (or was it the stress?), Himari watched with trepidation as two rings emerged from the phone, vibrating the device and giving her a start.
=Then she hung up, clenched her phone in her hands as if she wanted to break it and rushed past every girl she was friends with, up and out of the room.
“What was that?”
“Jeez, she’s such a grump…”
“Does she not like boys or something?”
“Ha, as if! I wouldn’t have invited her to a girls' sleepover if so.”
But in the end, only one of them chased after her.
“Hey… Himari-chan?”
Tsugumi knocked gently on the bathroom door, fiddling with the ends of her robe nervously.
“Please come out now… We’re all worried about you.”
After the initial shock died down, Tsugumi was sure they’d all actually be ridden with concern for her; there was no way the game could continue after that.
Waiting for Himari to respond even slightly, Tsugumi fretted about those last two remarks. All girls liked boys. She knew she did too.
(Did she really, or did she just know she’s supposed to?)
(Why did it hurt so much to hear them say it then?)
Tsugumi liked boys, and she knew Himari did too. She wouldn’t let anyone talk like that about Himari. Himari liked boys too!
(Is she supposed to stop being friends with her if Himari doesn’t?)
(What would be so bad about Himari being at a girls’ sleepover if she did like girls anyway?)
Whatever. Tsugumi really didn’t like girls like that at all, so it didn’t apply to her. All she should have been concerned with right then was making sure that Himari was okay.
“Please, Himari-chan…”
A silence lay untouched on both ends.
Then, she heard the lock shift slightly.
The door opened a crack, revealing a limited glimpse of Himari with red eyes and redder cheeks, her shoulders shaking.
“H-Hey, Tsugu…”
“Hey… You wanna come out?”
Himari seemed to think on this for a second before complying, still clutching the doorknob behind her. Anxiously, she looked down at the floor.
“Um… what happened?”
“... Nuthin’. Just didn’t wanna call the guy I like.”
Ah. So that was all.
(She had only just learned the slightest bit about any other options, but Tsugumi knew that wasn’t the case.)
“Oh. That’s fine, then,” she assured her. “Why not, then? Were you too nervous?”
“... Yeah,” admitted Himari. “I didn’t really want him to respond, I guess. I didn’t wanna know how he felt about me.”
“In case he rejected you?”
“... I guess.”
A pause.
“I… want him to like me back, probably.”
As further seconds passed, Tsugumi looked at Himari. In a fluffy pink robe, hair dressed up by the others and braided, she looked just like the other girls. The only thing different about her was… well…
Himari looked so alone.
… When Tsugumi looked at her, she saw herself in her. Staring right back from her hiding place, every bit as distraught.
“Um… can I ask you a weird question?”
Himari said nothing in response, but nodded, almost imperceptibly.
“What does… it feel like? Like, the way you feel towards that boy you like. When you talk to him, or think about him.”
Now Tsugumi was shaking too. Why did she ask that? Didn’t she already know?
“I feel… normal, I guess.”
But Himari didn’t think she was stupid or strange for asking. She didn’t treat her like she was abnormal, or dense, or out of place either.
“Like… I like talking to him,” Himari expanded. “We text sometimes, and he sends me stupid selfies. He’s… cute, I guess. You’d like him. I like him. I probably… love him… too.”
… So Tsugumi would like him - maybe even feel the same way. Did Himari say that because she genuinely thought they were compatible? Or because Tsugumi was a girl too?
She was thinking too hard.
“So… you don’t get like, butterflies when you think of him or anything?” she checked. “You don’t feel fuzzy or warm or anything? Not even a little nervous around him?”
“No, I do! Of course I do!” replied Himari - a little too quickly to convince Tsugumi well. But she had no reason to doubt Himari, so she accepted it. “He’s my crush, so… yeah, I do. Everyone feels that way about their crush. Don’t you?”
Her mind stopped. It left her scrambling for an answer Himari could digest - no, an answer that was real.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Cool,” Himari acknowledged simply. “Me too.”
“... You wanna go back in?”
“Uh… yeah, sure.”
They didn’t talk about it again, or mention anything about the sleepover. But on her worst days, it was all Tsugumi could think about.
She never thought to question why Himari acted weirdly that day, or why she was so understanding of it when the other girls weren’t. But she felt a little closer to Himari, and grew on edge when the group from that day talked about crushes with her again.
3
When Tsugumi hit thirteen, she made her first social media account, knowingly against the will of her parents.
But hey, it was legal now! And what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them.
Everyone in her class had become bored of WhatsApp, instead migrating to Instagram and Snapchat. But what drew Tsugumi in was a platform that likely would have bewildered everyone she knew: Tumblr.
Once she logged in for the first time, she felt the suspense bubble in as her home page loaded… and nothing was there.
Oh, right. She needed to follow people. Based on her interests maybe?
Ah, that was right! She had fandoms! The entire reason why she made an account was so she could keep up with the fic writers and artists she loved the most, as well as a whole lot of incorrect quotes accounts. So, she searched up the first account she could think of: a major fan account for her main interest. She knew they had garnered quite a following on Twitter too.
Their layout was a graphic design haven, with an aesthetic manga panel as the header and… was that a GIF as an icon? Tsugumi didn’t even know how to do that! Plus, the colour scheme was absolutely gorgeous… a perfect mix of complementary and contrasting colours, with the text of their blog description a gradient from orange to pink: it reminded Tsugumi of the sunset.
rinko ↯ she/they ↯ minor ↯ aspec lesbian ↯ art + fic ↯ yagakimi + hypmic + yugioh ↯ current hyperfix: nfo ↯ comms + ask box = open!
Tsugumi knew what very few of those terms meant, but that didn’t stop her from following. Rinko was their name, “minor” meant she was around Tsugumi’s age and “aspec lesbian” meant… meant…?
Well, now was as good a time as ever to bridge the gaps in her vocabulary.
Opening another tab, she tapped a few times on her phone keyboard and pressed enter. The search results loaded almost instantaneously, as if they were eager to greet her.
… And all it did was lead her to more Tumblr pages that revealed nothing. Maybe if she separated the different terms?
Simply entering “aspec meaning”, she clicked on the first website that appeared.
“Aspec” means someone who identifies on the asexual/aromantic spectrum. This can mean they're demisexual, aromantic, and much more!
Now she was even more confused.
Trying to solve her bewilderment, she searched up the first new word she had encountered: “asexual”.
Asexual is the lack of sexual attraction to others…
It seemed to be written on a medical page. Was it a medical term then?
Did that mean it was wrong to feel that way?
Tsugumi didn’t even know someone could lack attraction. Well, right then she was only aware that people could lack the sexual kind. But if they could do that, then maybe it wasn’t too naive to assume that people could also—
She closed the tab, clicked off of Rinko’s account and reconsidered what she was doing.
This felt… bad to think about. Like it was wrong, or shameful or something she should keep secret. It wasn’t something to be curious about, so this curiosity of hers was something she needed to extinguish before it was too late.
(Too late for what, exactly?)
She resolved not to look into it again. It didn’t matter what Rinko was - she was pixels on a screen. Pixels on a screen.
Being aspec, too, was something she’d only ever know through a brief mention on a social media bio.
So Tsugumi logged out, knowing in her heart why she did it, but let her brain make the excuses as to why.
4
Being fifteen meant serious exams, first loves rather than mere crushes and actual committed relationships.
Tsugumi was well behind on all but the first. She hadn’t even developed one of those tiny crushes everyone else did by age twelve, but she held out hope - she knew it was coming. She had to believe it.
Navigating the world of romance at fifteen also meant assessing oneself with more maturity than the first time they delved into it. By that point, Tsugumi had finally learnt what lesbian meant: through second-hand experience.
Namely, all her friends were lesbian.
“Toooomoooo-chiiiiin.” Moca enunciated her whine with a harsh poke to Tomoe’s cheek. She had reclined across Tomoe’s lap lazily (which Tomoe had never once agreed to, but gave up on denying), letting the sun bask upon her and fail to tan her. “Give me Saaya’s number.”
“Yeah… I would, but I’m a little too suspicious of you for that.”
“Gasp.” A hand slapped across Moca’s heart. “How dare you. Moca-chan is nothing but innocent.”
Sighing, Tomoe gave in and paid Moca the attention she so desired. “Why do you want Saaya’s number?”
“So I can confess to her and be her girlfriend.”
“... And why do you want that?”
“So she can give me free bread from her sexy, sexy bakery.”
Tomoe promptly shoved Moca off her lap.
“Jesus, Moca,” she spat disapprovingly. “You don’t know the first thing about romance, do you?”
“Coooourse I do,” she drawled. “It’s when you love a girl so much you look at her and think “man, she’d make a tasty bun~ and she’d need no added sugar~”... yeah?”
“No. Most definitely not.”
“Blehhhh!” Moca lifted herself up, pushing off from Tomoe’s knee for support. “Poor Tomo-chin doesn’t understand the extent of Moca-chan’s lesbianism. Just because you want a cuddly pink girlfriend. Maybe I want a yeasty baker girlfriend.” Formulating an idea, Moca wiggled her eyebrows playfully. “Watch this.”
Rising to her knees, Moca trudged over to Tsugumi in what might have been the least romantic display either she or Tomoe had ever seen. Then, getting on one knee and presenting an invisible ring, she said completely devoid of emotion: “Marry me.”
“Uh… I don’t really want to. Sorry Moca-chan…”
“Why not? You make food, I eat food. We’re soulmates…”
“I just… don’t really accept…”
Collapsing onto the ground in an instant and miraculously not bleeding from the impact of the concrete, Moca was theatrically defeated. “Homophobia. You guys are ganging up on me.”
“It’s not homophobia! I just don’t like girls like you do.”
“Oooookay,” she accepted. “So you like boys then?”
… Why did she look so knowing when she said that?
No, that was a ridiculous thought to have. There was nothing to be exposed. So why did she feel like she had been stripped bare to the truth?
“Well, yeah, of course. You like girls and I like boys,” Tsugumi explained: for about the tenth time out loud, and the thousandth internally. She had even seriously contemplated whether she liked girls, just to prove that she liked someone - but her search was fruitless, and the dam holding the truth back, less and less deniable by the day, cracked unbearably. No-one could know that though. She would feel that way in time, and everything would be okay again…
“You sure? So when you see a guy, you go “man, I wanna have dual ownership of a house with him” like I do with girls?”
“... That’s a very formal way to word that.”
“You’re dodging the question~.”
“Leave her, Moca,” Tomoe defended. “She’ll work it out in her own time.”
“Work what out?”
“Look, we can’t have another Hii-chan.” The jokes had stopped. Moca was fully serious. “I hate seeing her like this. We can’t just leave her confused and hurting when we know why she feels that way.”
“It’s up to her to realise that when she realises. We can’t force it upon her.”
“What do you want me to work out?”
“She can have a community, Tomoe. She can accept herself. She won’t have to force herself to hurt like this anymore. We can help her. I want to help her, even if you don’t.”
“We can’t see inside her brain! Look, even if
you
think this is what’s best for her, it’s best not to risk hurting her. She needs to do this herself. We’ll just scare her off.”
“Or what? How long will it take for her to realise? A few months? A year? Until she partners herself off trying to fix herself? She’s not broken in the first place. I don’t want her to break herself trying to seal off cracks that aren’t there.”
“Just stop!”
The fighting had commenced. Now, all Tsugumi could hear was her own pulse rushing in her ears.
“Just… stop. What are you even talking about?”
“... I’m sorry, Tsugu,” Moca apologised earnestly. But it wasn’t earnest enough. “All I wanted to do is tell you that—”
“Just shut up , Moca!”
At the sound of Tomoe’s anger boiling over, at the gut feeling that Moca was about to reveal something terrible, an alarm sounded in Tsugumi’s chest and electrified the nerves in her legs, jolting her up to a stand. Within a lightning strike of a second, that stand had progressed into a walk, then a jog, then jerked into a run.
She ran her hand against the handrail as she rushed down the stairs, each slap of her school shoes against the concrete reverberating in her ribcage, accelerating the adrenaline that had hastened her heart. She had to get out of here. She had to—
Where would she go? To the mirror, where she’d see the reflection of a liar? To any area on campus, where her knowing, misguided friends would be sure to find her? Out of her own head?
She couldn’t deny it. They were right, she knew exactly what they were going to say, she knew the truth. She knew she was so like and unlike them. She knew the kids from her childhood had a propensity to something she didn’t, she knew the girls from that sleepover liked boys and she didn’t and Himari didn’t either, she knew why she forced herself to learn nothing more about people like her, she knew she didn’t like girls like Moca and Tomoe did, she knew she didn’t like— oh God, she knew she didn’t like anyone.
Tsugumi faltered on the final step before she could climb down from it and slumped against the wall, fiddling with the hem of her skirt like she did on that day to ground herself.
She couldn’t deny it anymore. She didn’t like anyone . At least not in the way everyone else she knew did.
Except…
Tsugumi couldn’t deny it anymore. But she couldn’t accept it either.
It was for that reason she lingered on that final step until she heard Moca and Tomoe coming to console her, to right all wrongs, and it was for that reason she fled when she sensed their shadows creeping up on her, ready to engulf her whole.
5
“Thank you for meeting with me.”
Three days later, fifteen-year-old Tsugumi Hazawa was none the wiser, but at least a little more stable.
“It’s… fine…” The person opposite her stared down at the coffee mug in their hands: feeling awkward, but far from closed off or unwelcoming. “What did you… want to talk about…?”
Tsugumi felt so stupid. One tiny realisation sends her world toppling over, and she goes running to the first person she feels might understand her - someone who she barely knows, all for a scrap of comfort.
“Um… you…” Dissatisfied with the impression she was giving out, Tsugumi forced herself to steel herself, even if only for a minute. “Rinko-san. You said you were aspec, right? What does that mean for you?”
Rinko looked up, somewhat surprised by the question. They answered, careful with each choice of words.
“It means that… I don’t feel attraction like… everybody else,” they explained. “For me, I don’t feel it often… and when I do, I feel it faintly… That means I am greyromantic… and greysexual. But another aspec person might… feel no attraction at all, or… feel it and have it disappear when… it’s reciprocated. Does that make sense…?”
“It does, thank you.” Tsugumi gave a nervous smile. “So, you said you’re greyromantic and greysexual… Does it always match up?”
“Not always… it just does for me. Some people are aromantic… so they don’t feel romantic attraction… but are allosexual… so they feel sexual attraction fully, without conditions needing to… be filled. But someone else could be alloromantic… which is the same thing as allosexual, but for… romantic attraction… except they might be… aceflux… so they feel different levels of sexual attraction… sometimes none, sometimes a little, sometimes… something else.”
“I see.” It was all easily digestible and simple to understand, but Tsugumi would be lying if she said she wasn’t still scared to be exploring this.
… It was just for research purposes. So she could know more, in case she ever needed to know.
(When she was ready, she would adjust to her own skin. But for the time being… even that was too much to admit.)
(So she ignored it.)
“Um… What’s it like for you?” asked Tsugumi. “To be greyromantic?”
“It was… strange, when everyone else got crushes and I… didn’t. So I used to… fake them… because I didn’t know… it was possible to not get crushes.” Rinko was speaking so honestly, trusting Tsugumi so much; Tsugumi felt indecent for warping their words into something she could relate to. They weren’t the same. “When I did get crushes… they would hardly be there, or… disappear before I knew it. Aha… it’s funny to think of. Like they were playing… hide-and-seek with me. I had to… work to find them.”
From the comfort of her family cafe, to the complete acceptance and kindness Rinko had been putting out, Tsugumi found her defences lowering enough for her to wonder what it would be like in Rinko’s shoes. To catch a glimpse of something that usually felt foreign to her, and find it vanished in her hands before she could fully realise it. To fake crushes, or not get them when everyone around her was.
Tsugumi found she didn’t spend as much time wondering as she did understanding - stepping into Rinko’s shoes, Rinko’s feelings, and finding that they were of the same size.
“Um… I don’t mean to be rude, but… I’m curious…” Rinko tripped over their own words, trying to convey their thoughts accurately. “Why are you… asking me this? Are you.. questioning, maybe…?”
“Questioning…?” Tsugumi inquired.
“Wondering if… you’re aspec,” they defined. “I can help… if you are. I can tell you… how it is for me… and other aspec people…”
… Was Tsugumi really questioning? Even if she was, was that something she could divulge to Rinko?
But Rinko had already been courageous enough to bare their soul to her. She owed it to them to repay the deal.
(When she called Rinko over, what was she feeling?)
“Uh, aha… I’m just curious is all.”
Rinko nodded sagely. “It’s good to… learn more about… different kinds of people. I can always help if… you need it…”
“You’re too kind, Rinko. Really, thank you!” Tsugumi expressed her gratitude with a smile: two parts genuine, four parts iron, barricading her weak spots away. “Would you like anything else? I’ll give it to you on the house. The cheesecake is a customer favourite this time of year!”
Eyes widening, Rinko looked away; they seemed to be considering it. Then, with multiple tinges of shyness, they mumbled, “... yes please.”
“Got it! Let me get one out for you. I hope you like it!”
Tsugumi sought refuge in the kitchen immediately, pulling out a fresh plate, as well as a heavy dish from the shop’s fridge. Hospitality had always been an integral part of her, but she knew that wasn’t all this was: if she didn’t keep herself occupied, she’d ruminate too much on all she had learned, and start making connections that didn’t need to be established.
But…
Once Tsugumi had dished a large slice of their famous cheesecake onto a plate, she allowed herself just a moment of inactivity. She knew it would make her think - but maybe that was okay for once.
… No.
Not now.
Tying her apron back up, platter in hand, Tsugumi gave her million-dollar shopkeeper smile and opened the door to serve Rinko. Maybe she would ask some more questions when she sat down again. Maybe she wouldn’t. She knew she had enough to think about either way. But she couldn’t think now.
Until she was alone, then. She’d stove it off until she was alone.
And then... Then she'd deal with this once and for all.
1.
“... No, that isn’t the right shade…”
A huff. The pencil sharpener fell off her desk again.
“...Grrr.”
Tsugumi Hazawa was many things: treasured Hazawa Coffee employee, slightly above average in her class, keyboardist of Afterglow. But what she wasn’t, despite all the piano sequences she had composed and all the original recipes she had added to the menu, was an artist.
Why couldn’t she just learn how to edit a moodboard or something? She swore, if that dark green pencil snapped one more time…
In her neatest and most even colouring, a green stripe was being shaded onto a small rectangle of roughly A5 paper. Below it was a lighter green one of the same width; she had lost the colouring pencil she wanted to use for it, and the one she substituted for it (now archaic and faint from its heyday in her childhood) had lead that kept snapping, so she dug out a neon green gel pen and was forced to make to.
The white stripe in the centre, looking like a crown jewel fashioned from untouched quartz, was the easiest to achieve: the paper was white, so she had no need to rummage around for a fitting utensil (why would she own a white pencil anyway?).
Then the grey, very clearly from one of her school pencils, stood firmly on the page. It was too light at first, so she had to go over it again, but then it was too dark, so she had to rub it out and repeat it all over again until she had created a shade she was satisfied with. Doing the penultimate stripe was a tedious task, but she knew it would be worth it in the end.
The black - done by a thick felt-tip pen because she just got so lazy with compiling the tiny lines pencils produced - was dark and commanding, able to be seen clearly even when she turned the paper around. Thankfully she didn’t grab that Sharpie lying to the side, or her milk oak table would be tarnished forever.
Perhaps the most boastful of them all was the dark green at the very top, which she was mere seconds away from finishing: a gorgeous forest green (yes, forest green - the advertising was completely inaccurate for this pencil) that put her mind to peace, even after all the turmoil she had gone through. Its hue was tranquil and calming, soothing her aching eyes and letting her know that while it wasn’t red or pink or even remotely rosy in colour, it would be okay. The rose hues of everyone else she had encountered were just as respectable as the deep greens of the trees and foliage that surrounded them.
... Jesus, that was way too poetic for one day.
But now, she was done.
She blew the spare shavings of pencil off of the sheet, and lifted it up to eye level.
It was tentative. Mismatched. The work of an amateur.
But she loved it.
There wasn’t a single doubt in her mind that she loved it.
Taking one final glance at the screen of her laptop - displaying the aromantic flag so she could replicate it the best she could - she closed it gently shut, instead admiring that of her own creation.
What should she do with it? It was too small to hang up; she wasn’t comfortable enough to do that anyway. If her parents walked in, she’d have to explain it - though she knew she’d have their full support, just as she always did. Maybe she could press it into a book? No - she wanted to be able to pull it out and hold it raw.
She could laminate it and fashion it into a pride pin… but she wasn’t ready to wear it yet.
In the end, the only option that was left was to seal it away in her personal box: treasured and surely there, but not ready to be seen yet.
… Shouldn’t she do something grander than this? After all she had gone through - all the denial, all the pain each time she rejected herself, all the shame and uncertainty - was that not deserving of a dazzling flourish? Maybe she should bake a five foot three cake, cut out a hole where she could fit inside it and just when Himari would get too impatient and be about to eat it ahead of time, she’d burst out and declare “surprise! I’m aro!”.
… Yeah, she could never do anything like that.
Although… this felt right. She was still so new to this, still settling into her skin. She couldn’t run before she had learnt to walk, after all - or rather, jump out of a cake before learning to stand on the ground.
With all the tenderness in the world, she held the paper aro flag in her hands. It was so fragile - she wouldn’t be able to bear it if anything happened to it.
But, well… How would anything happen?
She would be strong enough to protect it. And until then, she’d let it settle in.
Opening the latches on her special box, Tsugumi looked at the paper reflection of herself, committing each detail to memory. And then - with the reticent hesitance of parting from a newly made friend - she planted it in, and closed the box.
She would be okay.
Maybe someday she’ll tell people - when she’s ready. Except this time, the wait won’t be forced there through denial and self-doubt. It'll stem from genuine comfort. Even so, she won’t push herself. She’ll be ready when she’s ready.
But above all, she noted one thing, and held that promise close to her heart.
She would be okay.
This time, she’d make sure of it.