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-- First and Second --
“Kira-san.”
The first time Yumeko called her that, Kira could’ve sworn she felt an extra beat in her chest.
“For you.”
Kira was a second late to respond, only snapped back to her senses by the thing Yumeko was offering.
“A gift? What’s the occasion?” Then her eyes darted to the gift.
It was a purple card.
Queen of Hearts.
“Nothing in particular. Just something to remember this fresh transfer by, Kira-san.”
There it was again.
Everyone else called her "President."
A handful, who were close enough, "Kira."
But a transfer with no reputation, no history, no reason to speak so familiarly, she said it so differently, as if it was the first time Kira had ever heard her own name.
-
-- Third and Fourth --
“Good morning, Kira-san.”
“Good morning. Here for paperwork?”
Yumeko nodded, placing the stack of documents she’d carried up to the third floor onto Kira’s wooden desk using only one hand.
Kira noticed, but didn’t ask.
She figured Yumeko was the type to make things difficult for herself, even when she could’ve used both hands like any normal person.
“For you,” Yumeko said softly, revealing a small plant with her other hand—the one she’d kept tucked behind her back.
“A... cactus?”
“Were you expecting a flower?”
Kira shook her head. Part disbelief. Part confusion.
Then Yumeko added, “It’s a low-maintenance plant. It can survive through sunlight and a bit of water every day.”
“All right, Ms. Botanist. Why the cactus?”
“Your office looks...” Yumeko looked around.
Kira’s office was dull, though very fitting for someone who didn’t like unnecessary designs and decorations that served no practical purpose.
“Just say boring. I won’t kill you for it. I just don’t bother with this office interior. There’s not a thing that could make me like this place.”
“Because of the paperwork?” Yumeko’s eyes traveled past Kira’s shoulders, eyeing about six piles, which she assumed were still untouched. Backlogs.
“On the dot.”
“Then my cactus is perfect. No need to do anything to help it survive. Just as long as you look at it sometimes. You don’t have to touch it either, but you can, if the spines don’t bother you.”
Kira paused.
Some of Yumeko’s words, to her, carried another meaning—especially the last line.
“Then I suppose I’ll name it Yumi.”
“...Yumi?”
“I can’t quite point my finger to it, but you remind me of this cactus. You have the same facial features.”
Kira wasn’t one to make jokes. In fact, she sucked at them. Riri could vouch for that.
These words, to someone else, might have been offending.
But to Yumeko...
“Then please take care of ‘me,’ Kira-san.”
Kira wasn’t sure if Yumeko said “me” or “Yumi,” but she couldn’t bring herself to ask.
Sure, Yumeko didn’t bring a flower, but something ever so small still bloomed quietly inside Kira.
-
-- Fifth and Sixth --
“Kira-san!”
It wasn’t Kira’s first time hearing it, but it was the first time Yumeko said it loud enough for people around them to hear.
A cheerful Yumeko, huh? Kira never imagined Yumeko’s brightness had levels.
“Something good happened, Kawamoto?”
Yumeko was approaching, but she stopped mid-step at the mention of her surname.
Kira noticed. This time, she asked,
“A second ago you looked like you just put half the school in debt from your winnings.” She teased, catching Yumeko’s sudden drop of a smile.
“My name is Yumeko, remember?”
“Do I look like I could forget?”
“Then call me Yumeko.”
A pause. Pausing had started to become a habit for Kira now, or maybe just an inevitable reaction whenever Yumeko was involved.
“What’s wrong with ‘Kawamoto’? It’s still your name.”
“I never call you ‘Timurov.’ You don’t like that.”
Kira couldn’t retort. Seems Yumeko had seen through her without her knowing.
She doesn’t have the sweetest relationship with her father. It’s something she refuses to talk about, let alone mention.
“Kira-san.”
Again. For the sixth time now, there it was.
“I’m close to beating you,” Yumeko said, holding up her phone to show St. Dominic’s current rankings.
Kira at the top. Riri second. Yumeko in third.
“That’s what you’re happy about?”
“It will be, if you join me for dinner tonight. I’ve got a thousand bucks to spare.”
“You don’t need a thousand for dinner, Yumeko.”
And there it was, the name Yumeko wanted to hear Kira say.
“So it’s a date.”
“I never sai—”
“I’ll stop gambling for now. Might accidentally overthrow the council,” Yumeko joked.
“Don’t worry, you won’t.”
-
-- Seventh and Eighth --
“Kira-san, please help.”
This was the first time Yumeko had ever asked Kira for help.
Kira didn’t realize it, but she’d dropped whatever she was planning to do the moment she heard it.
In front of her was Yumeko, unable to stand on her own. Her ankle was limp.
Kira quickly, but gently, caught her by the waist to steady her.
“Who did this?”
She was ready. A sharpshooter trained in archery since childhood, already bracing to pull an invisible bowstring.
“Actually... I tripped.”
“Tripped?”
Once again, Kira paused.
Once again, it was from part disbelief, part confusion.
Yumeko nodded, one arm draped around Kira’s neck for support.
“You tripped where?”
Yumeko let out a cheeky smile and pointed toward the stairwell.
“You... fell down the stairs?”
“Maybe...?”
Kira’s nose scrunched. “So you didn’t trip. You fell. Feet first.” She said flatly, still holding Yumeko upright.
Still smiling, Yumeko pulled something from her pocket.
“For you, Kira-san.”
It was an envelope.
Kira was shocked, and thrilled, safe to say the least. But there were more pressing matters at the moment.
Yumeko had a habit of giving her something every time they met.
This one came limping.
“Thank you,” Kira said, accepting it carefully, “but we’d better get you treated first.”
Yumeko didn’t see it, but there was a blush on Kira’s cheeks she hadn’t meant to wear that day.
As composed as she was by default, Kira could barely ignore the fact that her heart was practically leaning over to peek inside the envelope.
-
-- Ninth and Tenth --
Today, there was no “Kira-san.”
Yumeko was nowhere to be seen. Nowhere to be found. Not even Mary, her roommate, had the slightest idea where she could be.
“President. You called?”
“Come in, Mary. I just have something to ask.”
“I’m sorry, Pres, but unfortunately, I have no clue about Yumeko’s whereabouts either.”
Kira paused.
There wasn’t a day she wasn’t pausing at this point.
“You knew I’d ask about her,” Kira said promptly. It wasn’t a question or an accusation, just plain confusion.
“Well, she is my roommate,” Mary said, like that would explain anything. Then she added, “Actually, I think you’d pass as my roommate too, with the way she mentioned your name a lot. Like, a lot.”
And that did it.
That was almost the equivalent of hearing one “Kira-san” from Yumeko.
It made her heart race, but Yumeko’s absence still won over the feeling.
“She didn’t leave a message?”
“Not even a note,” Mary replied.
-
-- Ninth and Tenth --
Kira still hoped for a ninth, and possibly a tenth time she would hear “Kira-san.”
Yumeko hadn’t shown up for a week now.
A week of her absence meant a week of Kira staring religiously at Yumi, the cactus.
She had even researched how to take better care of it.
Yumeko said it was low-maintenance. And it was. But Kira couldn’t quite accept that something could survive with barely any attention or care.
Then, as out of character as it was for St. Dom’s president, Kira talked to it. Spoke to it like it could understand what human words meant.
“I regret naming you Yumi now. Guess my teasing backfired.”
She didn’t really regret it.
But she did feel a quiet ache every time she called the cactus by its name.
Yumi.
Yumeko.
Yumi.
Yumeko.
She hated to admit it, but every time those four letters left her lips, the name Yumeko echoed through the chambers of her chest.
“I can’t believe how irresponsible your previous owner is, leaving you alone like this without a word,” Kira said, then recalled Mary’s words and repeated softly, “Not even a note.”
She looked at the cactus with undeniably yearning eyes.
If anyone had heard her, they might have thought she was talking about herself, and not the cactus.
-
-- Ninth and Tenth --
“Kira-san.”
A voice so soft, and ever so longing.
Then...
Kira slapped herself awake.
She couldn’t believe she was starting to hear things now. Yumeko’s absence was hitting harder than she expected.
Then, a voice again.
“Kira.”
It was firmer this time.
“Riri.”
Kira looked up to see her sister sitting by her bedside.
“Your temperature’s gone up since last night. We have to go to the clinic.”
“Wha... what do you mean?”
Riri’s eyes were concerned. Soft. She looked worried. Almost worried sick.
“You passed out at your desk last night. I saw all the piles you finished working on.” Riri sighed. “I could’ve helped you. You overworked yourself... again.” She uttered the last word as if it was second nature to Kira to handle matters on her own. But Kira knew not to retort, because, after all, it was true.
“I did? I... don’t remember.”
Then a figure entered the room. She was holding a cloth soaked in a small bowl of cool water. Not too cold, just above room temperature.
She sat down beside Riri.
“Thank you, Mary,” Riri said, then gently squeezed the cloth until it was just damp before placing it on Kira’s forehead.
“I know you don’t like me seeing you like this,” Riri said, placing a small medicine bag beside her. “And I know you’d refuse the clinic, so take the blue pill every four hours. If you need me, call or text. I’ll come right away.”
Kira wanted to say “thank you.” To Riri. To Mary, though she had just left. But the dryness in her throat, which she hadn’t even noticed until now, suddenly worsened.
Still, she didn’t want Riri to leave the room without a single “thank you” from the sister she had stayed up taking care of all night.
So, before Riri could stand, Kira reached for her hand, turned it over, and drew three short lines on her palm.
It was a smiley face.
The same smiley face the sisters used to draw on each other’s hands when they were little.
Whether it meant “I love you” or “thank you” didn’t necessarily matter, as long as it came from the heart.
-
-- Ninth and Tenth --
“Yumeko...”
Kira mumbled in her sleep.
Riri’s last visit had been an hour ago, and when she checked Kira’s temperature, it had finally gone down by a degree. Too small to call an improvement, but it was progress, at least.
“Kira-san...”
Kira slapped herself awake. Again.
But this time, she didn’t feel her hand touch her face.
Her palm couldn’t reach it.
Instead, it felt like she’d slapped the back of something.
“Great. I’m numb now,” Kira muttered, her voice still hoarse, her eyes still shut.
“Good morning, Kira-san.”
“And I also happen to be delirious,” Kira added, words aimed at herself.
Then, she felt something brush her hand.
“For my birthday wish, I wish to absorb Kira-san’s fever.”
Kira paused.
Finally, a pause happened.
Because a pause meant something.
She forced her eyes open, blinking past the sting of the fever.
As if a witch had cursed her to suddenly remember the date of anything, a month and a day crossed her mind.
July 1st. Yumeko’s birthday. Today was Yumeko’s birthday.
And then, as if the wish wasn’t enough, soft lips landed gently, briefly, on the back of Kira’s hand.
Kira turned to the voice.
To see who it was, even if she already knew.
Even if every part of her already knew.
But she had to make sure it wasn’t just her fever playing games in her head.
“I had to seal the wish,” the voice added, just after kissing her hand a second time.
“Are you... real?”
Kira had never looked so innocent before.
So vulnerable.
The girl didn’t answer right away.
“And for my second wish, I wish for Kira-san to believe I’m real, and not just a dream.”
Another pause.
Kira had paused twice now.
And a pause meant something.
Kira would pause every time a certain someone was involved.
“Yumeko...?”
And it wasn’t just the ninth or tenth time a “Kira-san” was said that day.
It was now the twelfth.
-
-- Thirteenth and Fourteenth --
Kira was now fever-free, but she still wasn’t allowed to step a foot inside her office.
Riri’s orders.
She had said something along the lines of, “I’m going to eliminate council members who refuse to contribute to the council but somehow contribute to Kira’s stress.”
And so, the student council was a lot busier today, except, of course, for Kira.
But Kira had nowhere else to be.
St. Dom’s was a big school. Lots of places to kill time in.
But not a lot of spaces Kira would be happy to insert herself in.
An idea struck her.
Message to Yumeko:
Feeding Grounds with me at 3.
Before she hit send, she paused. Never not pausing.
It sounded too dry. More like a command than an invitation.
Edited message to Yumeko:
Feeding Grounds with me at 3. :)
A smiley face. A smiley face she hoped would soften the coldness in her tone.
Not even a minute later, her phone buzzed.
Message from Yumeko:
I’ll take that as a date. :*
A kissy face. A kissy face Kira could faintly recall from Yumeko’s real one when she kissed her hand two days ago.
Safe to say, she hadn’t let Yumeko come near her after that.
She was afraid the birthday wish might actually come true.
That Yumeko would absorb her fever.
And Kira?
Kira would rather get sick again than see Yumeko fall ill.
She couldn’t imagine what she’d do, how she’d handle the weight of that concern.
Then, as the clock struck 3, Kira made her way to the Feeding Grounds.
Well, to be fair, her mind had arrived first before her body.
She had already imagined more than ten scenarios for how their small “date” might go.
“Kira-san!”
“Yumeko. You’re not late? That’s new,” Kira teased.
“I must be punctual. This is our first date, after all.”
“I never said it was.”
“I know. I did. But you didn’t deny it,” Yumeko replied, unfazed.
Kira smiled, then gestured for her to follow. They walked toward a bench.
She pulled out a piece of cloth.
“You never know how many students have sat here,” she said, placing it down for Yumeko.
“What about you?” Yumeko asked.
There was only one cloth, and it was clearly meant for her.
Kira had none for herself.
“It’s alright. I can always wash my skirt.”
“We share.” Yumeko scooted to the side, making space.
“I’ll be fine. I brought it for you.”
“I insist.” Yumeko grabbed Kira gently by the wrist and made her sit.
The cloth could barely fit two people, so Yumeko had no choice but to pull Kira even closer.
But in truth, it was a choice.
A clever one at that.
And then, they talked all afternoon.
They fed cats. They were rescues, all of them.
Each had color-coded tags with their names, birthdays, and where they had been found.
One cat resembled Kira so much that it was impossible for Yumeko not to notice.
She read the tag.
Kitty Tails. The cat’s name was Kitty Tails.
“Kira-san, I think you birthed this one.”
That line made Kira laugh.
A real laugh. A laugh Yumeko heard for the first time.
“You sure about that? She’s clung to you since we got here. If anything, I think she likes you more,” Kira said.
“I think she does.”
A pause.
“I hope she does,” Yumeko added.
She said it like it meant something else.
Like she wanted it to mean something else.
“I hope a certain K.T. likes me as well. Right, Kitty Tails?”
Kira turned to the cat.
K.T.
Short for Kitty Tails.
And coincidentally, maybe not so coincidentally,
could also stand for Kira Timurov.
-
-- Fifteenth --
Kira couldn’t muster the courage to ask where Yumeko had been for the whole week she was gone from St. Dom’s.
Yumeko, though, knew that if anyone had thought about her absence more than once a day, it would be Kira.
Mary was a given. She was her roommate and best friend, after all.
It was true that she hadn’t told Mary where she was going.
But she had told her not to worry if she ever disappeared without a word.
Kira, though...
Yumeko didn’t want to tell her she’d be leaving for Japan a week before her birthday.
Because she didn’t think it would be a week.
She thought Mrs. Kawamoto would book her a flight three days before, not seven.
As to why she hadn’t updated anyone, not Mary, nor Kira, she didn’t exactly explain it well. She just said she wanted to experience living without St. Dominic’s on her mind while she was in Japan.
And Kira understood.
Of course she did.
She didn’t ask for more details. She’s known to be respectful of boundaries.
But the truth was, Yumeko hadn’t called or texted Kira on purpose.
She was planning something.
Something that would shake the whole school.
Something Suki would absolutely blow up on social media, if he wasn’t already in on it.
Yes, Suki was involved.
Not because Yumeko needed his help, but because she needed him to shut up.
No talking, no posting, no leaking. Not without her permission, or at least, not without her posting it first.
Why did Suki agree?
Because Yumeko had defeated him once in a gamble. A bet. A game of hearts and twisting emotion.
Safe to say, Suki didn’t want to experience the consequences again.
But all was good between them now.
They exchanged glances and friendly smiles more often than before.
Yumeko was actually nice, he thought.
You just had to avoid her bad side, which is something he’s already familiar in doing so, since he feels the same way for Kira.
Knock knock.
A knock at Kira’s dorm.
“Riri, come in. It’s unlocked.”
No answer.
Which meant, it wasn’t Riri.
Kira stood up.
Just as she was about to turn the knob, something slid under the door.
An envelope.
She bent down, picked it up, and opened it cautiously.
But there was no letter inside.
“Now who dares to play pranks with m—”
She stopped mid-sentence.
On the back of the envelope was a kiss mark.
It didn’t take her long to study, to recognize whose it was.
It matched the one Yumeko had left on her hand.
The one Kira never washed off when she was sick.
Then, the school audio system crackled to life.
“Kira-san.”
-
-- Sixteenth to Twentieth --
At the quadrangle, students were murmuring.
Like Kira, they had heard the first “Kira-san” of the day.
But unlike Kira, they weren’t used to hearing it so softly, so sweetly, even though it was just her name and an honorific.
“You think they’re dating?” asked one student near the fountain. A guy.
“Aren’t they already?” replied the one on his left. A girl.
Safe to say a girl’s wit is, more often than not, quicker and overall better than a guy’s.
“Aren’t they rivals? Kawamoto practically stormed through the rankings like cakewalk,” added one from the right. Another guy, of course. Clearly oblivious to how relationships bloomed between women.
Then, just before another rumor could start, Kira made her presence clear. She didn’t like the idea of side bets involving her. Not that anyone mentioned a bet, but she could feel one coming. And she arrived just in time to stop it from forming.
She had already strolled through the lakeside, the cafeteria, the Assembly Hall, and now the quadrangle.
But Yumeko was nowhere to be found.
Then, like lightning striking a rod, it hit her.
The Feeding Grounds.
Of all places, she had forgotten the most obvious one.
The grounds where their first date took place.
—
Kira arrived just in time.
Or so she thought.
The Feeding Grounds was practically empty. Even the cats were nowhere to be found.
Then...
“Meow...”
“Kitty Tails?” Kira recognized her immediately. To be fair, K.T. was the only cat she’d ever heard meow that way. It was soft, small, and cute. Very cute.
She picked her up. Then she noticed another envelope tucked in the tag.
She sat down, moved K.T. to her lap, and checked to see if Yumeko had left an actual hint this time.
But to her dismay, there was none.
Nothing inside.
“This is killing me,” she muttered.
But she kept studying the envelope, hoping a clue would magically appear.
Unbeknownst to her, that envelope served its purpose: a distraction.
Yumeko knew Kira wouldn’t give up cracking a puzzle even if it cost her her sanity. It wasn’t exactly healthy. It was almost an obsession to fix things. But it worked to Yumeko’s favor.
Kira was so focused staring at practically nothing that she didn’t hear the incoming footsteps.
Then, everything turned black.
Her eyes were covered, not by a blindfold, but by a pair of soft hands.
The scent alone gave her the answer.
Still covered, Kira spoke.
“Yumeko, what game are you trying to—”
“Kira-san.”
She was cut off.
And then, something landed on her lap.
It wasn’t Kitty Tails anymore.
Yumeko let go and walked in front of her.
On Kira’s lap was a bouquet of flowers.
But not just any flowers.
They were made from cards. Spades. Only Queens. Purple.
Like the one Yumeko gave her the first time the words “Kira-san” entered her life. But that one was a Queen of Hearts.
Kira was astounded. Shocked. Blushing.
It was as if all the positive emotions in the world had bundled themselves into one feeling.
It took her a minute or so to compose herself.
Then, Yumeko broke the silence. “No envelope this time. No more.”
“Yumeko, I... this is beautiful. Thank you.” Kira added, “But what is this for? You’ve already given me so many things.”
“Remember the envelope I gave you before?”
“The one that magically slipped into my room earlier?”
“No, not that.”
“Oh,” Kira said as realization hit her.
“The one from when you ‘tripped’ down the stairs?” Emphasis on the ‘tripped’ because ‘fallen’ was the actual fitting term.
They laughed.
“Yes, that one. Did you ever read it?”
“Read it, yes. Crack it? I’m afraid not yet.”
Inside the envelope, the message had read:
Red. Blue. Purple.
It was easy enough, if it meant red plus blue equals purple.
But beyond that, Kira had no idea what it meant.
“I will make sense of it today,” Yumeko said softly.
“You brought crayons?” Kira joked. But her curiosity was genuine.
“Kira-san.”
A pause. It was Yumeko’s turn to pause now.
She clasped Kira’s hands in her own.
“I like you. But I think you already knew that.”
Kira paused. It was her turn again.
Denial had always been part of her, but deep down, she knew. She just had to hear it loud and clear.
“Kira-san, I know you still have the card I gave you.”
Kira was surprised she knew. But then again, she’d never let go of it. She’d kept it in the pocket of her coat since the day Yumeko gave it to her. So she pulled it out and gave it to Yumeko, still unsure where this was going.
Then, as if the card was meant to fit right in the center of the bouquet, everything clicked.
A Queen of Hearts at the center of the Queens of Spades.
“I am red. You are blue,” Yumeko said, her eyes softer now.
“If you feel the same way about me, Kira-san, that would be better than winning the lottery. But if you don’t, that’s okay. I can wait. Or stop, if you want me to.”
She didn’t give Kira a chance to answer.
“But frankly, I think we’re past the first stage already.”
Kira’s heart skipped. Her cheeks warmed. The moment felt too big for her body to hold.
“Kira-san, if you allow me, may I have the honor of calling you my Kira-san from today onwards?”
A noticeable emphasis on "my."
Kira finally spoke.
“Yumeko,” she said.
Then ever so lovingly, as if they were the only people in the world that day, and as if the students at St. Dominic’s were sticking their noses where they shouldn’t but the two didn’t care, Kira said,
“For all the times you called me Kira-san, I think I was just waiting for a reason to call you mine.”
Red.
Blue.
They looked at each other, like the answer had always been there, waiting.
Then, closer now.
Close enough to feel the question between them.
Longing eyes were exchanged.
And then, finally, they kissed.
Soft at first, like a secret.
Then certain.
Certain in a way only they could be.
Lipstick smudged, colors melting into one another.
Not red. Not blue.
But something new.
Something neither of them wore, and couldn’t make without the other:
Purple.