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When I was young, I was told Prince Charming would come and sweep me off my feet.
You can imagine my surprise when I fell in love with a princess. No matter, I thought, no matter — I must sweep her off her feet, then. Charm her with a picture-perfect smile, regale her with heroic tales, and she will absolutely fall in love with me.
My princess. Oh, my princess — that truly was the best thing to call her. Curt and overconfident, a childlike temper, but beautiful as a diamond. On my first journey to the illustrious Tokiwadai Middle School, she was the first person I met.
“Tokiwadai has two dormitories, you see — I’m afraid you’re at the wrong one,” she declared. And while she was completely right, I hadn’t the pride to admit it. We bickered right there on the street corner until the dorm mistress told us off, and she hurried away. Gone with the wind.
I didn’t get her name until much later: Shirai Kuroko.
We shared some classes, so I saw her often. She mingled effortlessly with our peers, always wearing that bored, indifferent expression. Like she was searching for someone that was worth her time — a Prince Charming, perhaps.
Kuroko only ever looked content when she was working. When her brow was creased over a textbook, or when she wore that green armband. Ah, she was a different person entirely when carrying out her duties — all her prickly parts smoothed out, forming a picture-perfect Judgment officer. I couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. Her easy honesty, her stone confidence, her natural authority…
It was not the bravest thing to do, but it was the only thing I was capable of: I admired her from afar.
I lingered by the Judgment offices, catching glimpses of Kuroko in action. Soothing a troubled classmate who had lost a sentimental ring; quietly and dutifully filing reports; discussing cases and culprits with shocking wit. My thoughts turned to strange places. I noticed when Kuroko’s skin looked particularly radiant, I grew soft at the thought of touching her hair, I flushed at her rare smiles.
I was not a shy person, and yet Kuroko made me feel shy; that is how I realised something was different.
I had a stupid, middle school crush. I’d never had real feelings for anyone before, so it was brand new and exciting. A lady, I thought. No matter, no matter, no matter.
I will admit, it took time to work up the courage to talk to Kuroko. It was so easy talking to my other classmates, telling them every detail of my grand vacations, listing all my father’s new business partners — yet when it came to Kuroko, my words went dry. I ran out of stories to tell and smiles to give. I hid from her passing glances, avoided her circle of friends.
But the day did come — after giving myself a long pep talk in the bathroom mirror, I stormed straight to the Judgment office. It was a miracle no one else was around. I stopped in front of Kuroko’s desk, my face scrunched in concentration, and pointed.
“S-Shirai Kuroko!”
To my delight, she recognised me. “Oh. The transfer student, right?” she said matter-of-factly. “What do you need?”
I puffed my chest out. “I, Kongou Mitsuko, formally request that you go on a date with me!”
“…I beg your pardon?”
It was the most underwhelming response. Kuroko stared at me, gaping. Then she laughed. She tried to shield it behind her palm, but I was already turning red. “And what is so amusing?”
“That is, quite literally, the most pathetic way to ask someone out. My goodness.”
“E-Excuse me!? Would you know any better?”
“A simple, ’would you go on a date with me?’ would be effective. Or,” and Kuroko suddenly stood up, “name a time and a place, and ask if I will be there.”
Kuroko gave a challenging smile, and my heart shuddered. It was too late to conceal my blush, but I hid behind my fan anyway. “I-I see… well, there is a… magnificent French restaurant on 4th Street. And I am free Thursday evening, if you would care to join me…”
Kuroko looked me look up and down, considering me. Finally, she smirked. “I will,” she said. “And don’t disappoint me.” She then got back to work, her pen scribbling across paper. She did not look up. “Is that all?”
“Yes?”
“Then please do not disturb my work.”
Cold. Shirai Kuroko could be very cold — but no matter, she said yes.
Naturally , I didn’t get much sleep that night.
Our first date seemed a total disaster. I wore my finest dress, only to be lectured for neglecting my uniform. I talked so much — I hadn’t realised until then, but it was such a bad habit of mine. I hardly asked Kuroko about herself or her interests. It didn’t once cross my mind.
Kuroko just sat. Ate. Picked apart my stories. She wasn’t familiar with my family’s background, which was appalling, but she liked talking about business and I did not mind filling her in. We bickered, we disagreed on many topics — and I truly expected to never hear from Shirai Kuroko again.
But at the end of the day, she casually asked for my number.
“What for?” I asked.
“So we can arrange our next date?” Kuroko saw the flash of shock on my face, and grinned. “You are one intriguing individual, Kongou Mitsuko.”
I loved how she said my name. How it suddenly came to life on her tongue, dancing in the air. Kongou Mitsuko.
I decided then and there that I would make her fall in love with me. Not that I knew how. Oh, I was utterly clueless at that age — I followed my father’s outdated advice that if I loved myself, if I achieved great things, I could attract anyone I wanted.
Whenever Kuroko and I were together, I made sure to paint myself as attractively as possible. I spoke of the fundraisers I’d held, the opera tutors I knew, the life-changing technology my family created. Kuroko would always listen keenly and critically; never truly impressed, but engaged. I realised she never wore that bored expression around me — she was always attentive and curious.
We spent time together at school. Lunch breaks, study sessions, after class. Sometimes, I would distract her from Judgment work; she liked to complain, but never truly seemed upset. She started smiling more and more, laughing, asking me on more dates.
It was… working. I couldn’t believe it at first; I didn’t realise just how much Kuroko liked me. I was completely taken off-guard when she muttered once, through a frown: “Are you ever going to ask me to be your girlfriend?”
I choked on my tea. “I-I beg your pardon?”
“It would be nice to be official, don’t you think?”
“W-Well, I— I’m a lady, I was waiting for you to ask."
“We’re both ladies.”
“O-Oh…” I cleared my throat. I never imagined myself asking such a thing, but I could try. “Shirai Kuroko, would you do me the honour of… of being my girlfriend?” I offered my hand across the table.
Kuroko was blushing then. She looked like she wanted to laugh, but she shook her head and took my hand. “You are so strange.”
That was supposed to mark the beginning of a brighter era. And I suppose for a while, it did feel exciting and new. I had a girlfriend and we went on dates, and when we felt brave, we held hands. We’d stay up late texting each other, hesitant to say goodnight, we’d take silly photos, and struggle through cheesy compliments.
We had our first kiss. We were laying beside each other, curled on my bed. Hesitantly, I ran my fingers through Kuroko’s hair. Soft, as I had always pictured it to be. And Kuroko suddenly leaned in, her lips puckered towards me.
I yelped and pulled away. “W-What on earth are you—“
“My apologies.” Kuroko blinked, looking genuinely shocked. “Should I have asked first?”
“Ah…” My heart thundered. “No, it’s alright. You simply caught me off-guard.”
“Have you ever kissed anyone before?”
“P-Plenty…! This is far from my first romantic relationship, Shirai-san.”
Kuroko rolled her eyes and kissed me. I was so stiff, so awkward — she didn’t need to call my bluff.
A few weeks later, we were in the rain, Kuroko holding an umbrella above us. “I love you, Shirai-san,” I muttered, though I hardly knew what the words meant.
“Pardon?”
“I-I said I love you!”
“Oh.” Kuroko flushed. I made her speechless. Eventually, she said it back, though perhaps she knew what I did not — that we were young and merely playing at love.
A month, maybe. We were happy for a month, and then things started to fall apart.
We were rarely intimate with each other. A squeeze of the hand, a cheek kiss — these were luxuries, earned on our good days, and at the time, I didn’t realise this scarcity bothered Kuroko. I did not value physical touch, so I assumed she did not either.
I remember, one busy school day, walking to class together. Kuroko clung to my arm, lacing her fingers through mine, and I shooed her away. “The unwanted attention, Shirai-san, you mustn’t—“
“Are you ashamed of me?”
“Don’t be absurd,” I hissed. “ Just please, behave.”
Whenever Kuroko was upset with me, it went one of two ways: she hinted at her feelings through her usual, sarcastic jokes, and I would disregard them. Or she would attempt to sit me down, have a heart to heart, and I would make up excuses.
I thought mutual feelings were all you needed to make a relationship work. But I was not listening to Kuroko; I was not trying at all. It is no wonder we did not last.
Our playful bickering turned sour. Kuroko grew comfortable raising her voice, rattling off everything she disliked about me. “You do nothing but complain, you only talk about yourself, you tell so many lies — you are insufferable!”
And I felt threatened, so I yelled back. In my mind, I was defending my honour, my pride, but I was only making things worse. I saw the moment Kuroko’s shoulders went lax and she let herself laugh, because she realised nothing mattered anymore . She’d had enough.
“We’re through, Kongou-san.”
The words were clear, but they did not sink in for a long time.
No matter, no matter, no matter.
Kuroko and I stopped talking. I told myself I was fine. No matter; I would forget Kuroko eventually. Was I not better off without Kuroko, anyway? She was always cold to me, curt, with a childlike attitude. I, Kongou Mitsuko, would not be wounded by someone like Shirai Kuroko, never.
Days turned into weeks…
Months, even.
And then I had a foolish thought: I wished to prove that I was over our relationship. That she no longer had a hold on me. I wanted Kuroko to see how well I was doing.
So I started talking to her again — bothering her, more like. I’d nudge her during class, boasting that I got a higher grade. I’d visit her Judgment branch and comment on her growing eye bags, the blemishes on her skin, the weight she’d put on. I’d see her walking home alone and laugh; and sometimes, when Awatsuki and Wannai were with me, I’d dare to approach.
Kuroko made no effort to hide her distaste for me. It was just like old times, except I could feel the real frustration behind her words. She meant it when she called me arrogant. She meant it when she called me bothersome.
No matter, no matter, no matter. I was victorious, I was thriving.
And then, I watched Kuroko fall in love with someone else.
No matter…
It was Misaka Mikoto, the Railgun, the third-ranked Level 5. Someone who had it all. I had every reason to envy her, to detest her, but I couldn’t even manage that. Mikoto was a beautiful person, through and through — and that bothered me more.
The way Kuroko acted with Mikoto… it was nothing like how she acted around me. I’d never seen Kuroko so affectionate, so obvious in her advances. She was all heart-eyes and soppy monologues and red cheeks — an entirely new person. And the thoughts always came back, like a persistent fly:
Why? Why? Why?
Why did Shirai-san not love me like that? And most importantly, why did I care? Why was I imagining afternoon dates with this new, lovey-dovey Kuroko? Why was I flustered at the thought of those eager arms embracing me, or those starry eyes looking my way?
And why — why did it hurt so much?
Kuroko was suddenly everywhere I looked. She haunted me. Onee-sama this, Onee-sama that; it was all she ever talked about and it drove me mad. It took many months of this — of feeling like an ice pick was being thrust through my heart — to uncover the truth.
I was not over Shirai Kuroko.
But I still had my pride. I would not cry, I would not plead, and I would not tell Kuroko. Our time had long passed. I would let my feelings blow away, one slow petal at a time.
It was excruciating, of course. Every day, I felt a different part of me ache, a fresh coat of jealousy and remorse. I realised, too, that I was watching Kuroko’s first heartbreak. Mikoto never returned her feelings — a matter which made her seem like the greatest fool in existence. Perhaps Mikoto did not want a love so easily offered up; perhaps she rathered nothing at all. But, for a reason I would never know, she let Kuroko’s love go to waste.
Let me take it, I begged, and let me love you again. I would not try to be Prince Charming, I would not be anyone but Kongou Mitsuko.
But there was nothing I could do. The petals kept falling. I would always regret what happened with Shirai Kuroko, and I would always care for her more than I should.
But, no matter — and I truly meant it this time.
Perhaps I would learn to love again.