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Mitsuru liked plans. She especially preferred to be in charge of them, but just having one in place was good enough, usually. This one had been simple, or so she’d thought: shaved ice with Yukari and some of Yukari’s seemingly endless supply of friends from school.
“Is it customary to eat shaved ice during the winter?” she had asked.
“The kakigori places wouldn’t be open if they didn’t want people coming in!” Yukari had replied with a wink.
And that had been that. Yukari had picked the place, the time, the people. But as the day approached, Mitsuru heard of more and more unfamiliar names dropping out, until it sounded like she and Yukari were going to be meeting at a popular dessert spot on a Sunday afternoon in December, alone.
This had not been the plan.
It felt like a date.
Or, Mitsuru wondered if it did. It wasn’t like she had any experience with this sort of thing. Any prior interest at all, really. Another reason to kick herself for the way she’d been living all these years. If she’d let herself simply live her life as a child instead of an avatar of the Kirijo’s sin, maybe she would understand Yukari’s expectations – whether they had changed, what they’d been in the first place.
She swallowed the thoughts that told her, you had adults in your life who could have given you normalcy. Father could have, if he’d really cared to try. They felt like razor blades going down her throat.
These were not the thoughts she wanted to be having when Yukari arrived. They weren’t the feelings she wanted Yukari to see on her face when they made eye contact. She still hadn’t decided what she did want Yukari to see of her today, which was its own problem.
She didn’t have a plan.
“Senpai, hey.”
Mirsuru didn’t visibly startle. Yukari stood in front of her, smiling like she was simply happy to see Mitsuru; like it wasn’t a big deal at all that they were unexpectedly alone right now; like this Yamase girl who had cancelled on them only two hours ago hadn’t sent Yukari’s whole life into disarray. Because, of course, she hadn't. Only Mitsuru felt that way. Yukari was normal. She knew how to do this.
“Good afternoon, Yukari,” she said through a plaster smile. “I hope you’re well.”
Yukari cocked her head and her smile morphed into a little grin. “You writing me an email? So formal.”
Mitsuru sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry. You caught me off guard.”
“Yeah, I kind of noticed that. You didn’t even see me walk up to you.” The grin disappeared, replaced by searching eyes. “Everything okay?”
Mitsuru felt herself tense – a reflexive reaction to being prodded or examined. A lifetime spent presenting herself like a chameleon whose camouflage was ill-suited to every environment tried to assert itself even now, when a friend asked a simple question. Even if Yukari was shrewd, even if her searching was informed by her own guardedness, Mitsuru knew her care was genuine. She felt a surge of shame wash over her in response to the physical reaction she’d had to Yukari’s kindness. Protecting herself from being loved. Being liked.
“Yes,” she lied. “You know how things have been. There’s a lot to think about. I just lost track of my thoughts while I waited for you.”
Yukari's smile returned. It looked different, but Misturu couldn’t decipher how. “Okay, cool. I hope you weren’t waiting too long. It’s cold.”
Seeing as she honestly didn’t remember how long she’d been standing here but suspected that the answer would be longer than Yukari wanted it to be, Mitsuru said, “Not at all. But I am eager to try the shaved ice you’ve chosen for us.”
“Yeah! You’re gonna flip for this place, I know it.” Yukari’s affect was so instantly normal- no, that was the wrong word. Mitsuru hated this, too, the feeling of not knowing how she felt. It was hard to keep things under lock and key when they were porous and misunderstood.
“Senpai?” Yukari had moved. She was holding the door of the building open for Mitsuru. “Jeez. Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I’m sorry, really. I’m fine.” This time Mitsuru’s smile was convincing, she made sure of it. She was determined to have a good time.
Inside, the shop was unremarkable, with cramped seating and nonexistent atmosphere. It was busy, though, despite the cold weather. Mitsuru wasn’t surprised by this – she’d been learning to trust her friends when they told her they knew better than her about things she had no practical experience with.
Yukari ordered exactly as expected: strawberry shaved ice topped with lemon curd. Simple, direct flavors that suited her tastes. No pretenses. Exactly the kind of thing Mitsuru liked about her, even if Yukari would never think twice about it. Mitsuru went with something comfortable as well.
“I can’t believe you got the hojicha shaved ice and ordered green tea,” Yukari said as they settled into the most private table they could find. Which was to say, not particularly.
“I don’t see the issue,” Mitsuru replied. She was suddenly feeling a little defensive about her choices. “Hojicha is almost categorically separate from other green teas. Its roasted flavor is completely different from the sencha I ordered to drink.”
“No, yeah, I know. It’s just…” Yukari smiled. Mitsuru caught a glitter in her eyes before she turned her head away and propped her chin on her hand. Something fluttered at the base of Mitsuru’s throat. “It’s a very you sort of thing."
Mitsuru wasn’t used to thinking of herself as a person who had things. She was someone who was defined by all the things she didn’t have. Things she couldn’t be, or didn’t live up to, or wasn’t yet. Sometimes she barely felt like her own person at all, wearing clothes someone else had bought for her, living in buildings her family owned, dedicating herself to her grandfather’s crime. There wasn’t any room for someone to be Kirijo Mitsuru in the middle of the rest of that. Everything else was always more important.
She hoped that someday she would stop being so pathetically affected by these little, normal observations Yukari made about her.
She hoped that there would be a version of someday for her that still had Yukari in it.
It was still so difficult to imagine herself simply having the thing she wanted.
Mitsuru finally understood what Yukari saw in this place when the food came out. The kakigori was as big as her head at least, with a massive dollop of kuromitsu on top. She was instantly taken in by the smoky roasted flavor of the hojicha coupled with the sweetness of the syrup. The texture was so fine it was like eating snow. Mitsuru didn’t realize she’d closed her eyes in appreciation until she opened them and caught Yukari grinning at her with that mysterious look in her eye again. Her heart skipped.
“Enjoying yourself?”
“I am, yes.” Mitsuru sipped her tea to find a moment to collect herself. “It’s delicious. And there’s so much of it, I was surprised! For so little money, too.”
“Well, if you think about it, it’s still just ice and syrup, mostly, even if it’s high quality stuff. Even accounting for the toppings I think eleven hundred yen is probably the height of luxury when it comes to kakigori.” Yukari took a large spoonful and ate the whole thing in an exaggerated chomp. It was extremely cute. Was she always like this, or was she doing it for Mitsuru? Was this flirting? “And I like the big portion. Desserts are usually gone before you know it.”
Nodding, Mitsuru smiled. She felt warm. She hoped the implication she was picking up was real and not wishful thinking. “I’m more than happy to savor this meal. And the compa-”
Yukari’s phone buzzed, loudly clattering against the wooden tabletop and inching toward the edge. She looked at it and frowned. It wasn’t in the same way she had when Mitsuru had zoned out earlier, either; those had been little, concerned looks. Now her entire demeanor shifted, subtly, in ways Misturu might not have noticed six months ago. But the slope of her shoulders, the twist of her mouth, the twitch of her brow – small as they were, they indicated that Yukari was actually upset.
“Sorry, I have to take this,” she said. “Sorry.”
“Of course,” Mitsuru said, but she wasn’t sure if Yukari even heard her – she was already on her feet and halfway to the door, phone in hand.
Mitsuru sat in the restaurant sipping her tea. It would have felt incorrect to keep enjoying the dessert without Yukari there to enjoy it with. And given the shift in mood, she wasn’t sure they would be staying anyway. She tried not to speculate about what could be wrong, even though she had nothing else to do while she waited. Yukari would tell her or she wouldn’t. That was all there was to it. She needed to be patient. She needed to be whatever Yukari needed her to be here. Finally, something she was comfortable doing: slipping into a role.
She sat there long enough to watch her ice begin to melt.
Eventually Yukari did return, slipping quietly back into her chair and looking resolutely at the table instead of Mitsuru. “Sorry. About that.”
“That’s the third time you’ve said sorry for, as far as I can tell, absolutely no reason,” Mitsuru observed. “Are you alright?”
Yukari sighed heavily. She looked up but didn’t pretend to smile, which Mitsuru was grateful for. She would have gone along with it, but she was glad she didn’t need to. “I’m fine. That was my mom.”
“I assumed it must be.”
That earned her a snort and Mitsuru allowed herself a small smile in response. Yukari tucked her hair behind her ear. “Yeah. The only person who makes me lose it like that these days. It’s fine though. We’re talking again, kind of. It’s fine.”
Mitsuru realized she was running her thumbnail along the pads of her fingers – a nervous habit she’d been unsuccessfully trying to shake since she was a child – and stopped. “It’s alright, you know. If it’s not fine,” she said. Yukari finally looked at her. “I want to be someone you can talk to about things, if you want to. The way you’ve been for me. So if you want to complain about your mother, I’m happy to listen.”
“I think I would feel like an asshole if I did that, honestly. It all just feels so petty. Especially compared to what you’re going through right now.” Yukari smiled sheepishly. “And I really didn’t want to kill the vibe on our date, y’know?”
It was a date, then, to Yukari. For some reason this information didn’t settle Mitsuru’s feelings. Maybe she’d been joking. Or maybe she meant date the way Mitsuru heard classmates saying it, where two girls who were just friends could spend time together and it didn’t actually mean anything because being gay didn’t even cross their minds.
“Did you know that many people think my mother is dead?” she said abruptly.
Yukari looked caught out, eyes wide. “I… uh. I might have thought that, honestly. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone talk about her.”
Mitsuru felt a rueful smile touch her lips. “She’s never been a very large part of my life. She just… left, one day, when I was young. I don’t know why. I don’t know how aware of the family secrets she is. I don’t know if there were problems between her and my father. He never talked about her.”
“How does that stuff make you feel?” Yukari asked, tentative. Her reaction made sense to Mitsuru. It was a big bomb she’d just dropped.
“I’m not sure. I had expected she would come to his funeral, but she didn’t. When I went to see her after, it was the first time I’d seen her in over ten years, and we barely spoke for a few minutes.” Mitsuru stopped tapping the edge of her bowl with her spoon, which she hadn’t realized she was doing. She smiled instead. “So you see, it may not be as harmful as the way yours treated you, but I have some unresolved feelings around my own mother. And I’ve complained to you without even asking first. It would only be fair for you to vent, if you felt like you wanted to.”
Unexpectedly, Yukari burst out laughing, a big one straight from the belly. Mitsuru didn’t know how to respond to it, so she only frowned and waited for her to finish.
“That’s not the reaction I expected,” she said as Yukari wiped a tear from her eye.
“Sorry. You’re being sweet. You just…” Yukari shrugged with one shoulder. “You don’t have to do it like that, I guess?”
Mitsuru crossed her arms, feeling like she'd been put on the back foot again. She usually knew how people were going to respond to her. “Like what? What exactly am I doing?”
“Senpai, it’s not, like-” Yukari waved a hand around like it was supposed to help her explain. “We’re not trading off here. I want to listen to you when you need it because I like you. And I want to talk about my problems with you too. Because I like you. Okay?”
“Oh.” This time when Mitsuru felt the heat creeping over her face she couldn’t blame the cold. “I see.”
“Yeah.” Yukari clearly sensed Mitsuru’s embarrassment, which made it all worse. “So I probably will need to let loose about my mom sometime. Just not, like, right this second, okay? There are better things to talk about today."
Mitsuru unfolded her arms, but any further efforts to relax her posture were thwarted by the wave of pleasant nausea that had just overtaken her. “Oh? I’m all ears. What would you like to talk about instead, Yukari?”
Yukari suddenly seemed a little shy. She glanced to the side for a second, and then met Mitsuru’s gaze steadily. Her smile was, if not confident, then inviting. “You and me, maybe?”
She put her hand on the table, halfway between them, palm up.
Mitsuru froze. These growing feelings between them hadn’t been a secret, exactly. Certainly they’d been increasingly evident over the past weeks. But for Yukari to just…say it like that? It felt different. It felt wonderful. It felt like it wasn't allowed. But it had happened anyway, just now.
It only took her a few seconds to realize that nothing was actually stopping her from taking Yukari’s hand.
So she did.
“Yes. I’d like that.”