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Yachi Hitoka’s most favorite color in the whole, wide world, was blue. Light blue, to be precise.
Whenever her eyes met the sky on a fine day, whether it be summer, spring, or late winter, she would always crack a big smile. The thought of a vast field of clouds, painted on an endless blanket of light blue, made her very, very happy.
So one could imagine how joyful it made her to find a yukata that was the perfect shade of the said color. Everything about it was rather adorable - even the small yellow stars that laid against the bright blue hue dazzled her.
“I think. . . I think I’ll wear this to the festival. Y-Yeah. I will!” She chirped to herself, looking in the mirror in front of her.
Yachi’s friends had invited her along to the event, which she found a little odd. If you’d like to know, her friends, well, they were. . . different. Different in the sense that they did bad things, things that Yachi would never even attempt to do.
For example, one of the girls, who was named Yoru, often liked to smoke. She would ditch school, or even light one up in the girl’s restroom, which she claimed belong to her group and her group only.
Another girl, Kosame, was the one known to be extremely flirtatious, around both males and females. How typical she was, wearing skimpy clothing to karaoke nights and seducing men while getting drunk off of her mind.
I know you may be wondering, just how in the world was someone so sweet and pure like Yachi apart of their circle of friends? You see, Yachi had just transferred to Karasuno, and being the shy person she is, she didn’t make many friends right away. But, her shyness and knack of getting scared easily, had also lured in a group of girls who were willing to take advantage of her lack of ability to simply say, “No.”
So there Yachi found herself, sitting at their table one Tuesday afternoon, shaking. She tried to suppress it and keep her cool. Indeed, the girls noticed, and poked fun at her anyway.
Yachi’s anxiety attacks came and went often. She knew deep down in her big heart, that hanging with a crowd such as that one would only do her no good and cause the attacks to ultimately become worse. However, another side of Yachi was desperate to have friends. She wanted to do anything she could to impress them.
Kosame turned around that day, her dark black tresses flinging over her shoulders and settling perfectly. Her hoop earrings swayed along, catching the sunlight from behind her. Yachi was jealous. She’s beautiful. She sighed inwardly. And I’m not. “Say, Hitoka, are you going with anyone to the festival this Saturday?” She asked, pursing her lips.
“N-No, who else would I go wi-”
“Perfect! We can’t pick you up, so um, you’ll have to walk there.” Kosame cut her off abruptly. “Well, the girls and I are gonna go grab a drink or two. I know you can’t do that,” Two of the other girls chuckled, “so, uh, bye then.”
And they were off. Yachi stood there, her bag slung over her shoulder and her legs visibly shaking. “B-Bye!” She strained, waving a trembling hand in their direction. None of them turned around to respond, but that was fine. It really was.
They were Yachi’s friends - they genuinely liked her, right?
“Yeah. . . I have friends.” Yachi told herself, the corners of her lips tugging into a small, nervous smile. “I really do have friends!” She skipped away, the butterflies in her stomach doing a small dance. But were those butterflies dancing out of happiness?
And little did the fragile blonde know, someone knew that those butterflies weren’t. That very person also knew that Yachi was surrounding herself with toxic people, but could they do something about it? Probably. . . given the right place, and the right time.
“Here hon, take your pills.” Yachi’s mother instructed, giving her daughter a glass of water to accompany her daily medicine. Yachi did as she was told to, and gulped the pills down, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand once she was done.
“Yachi, are you sure you want to go? You don’t have to, you know.”
“Yes mom, I really do! I’ll be f-fine.” She said, giving her mother a reassuring smile. Though she didn’t buy it, her mother smiled it off anyway, planting a kiss to Yachi’s forehead. “Well, why don’t you go get ready? I wanna see you in your yukata!” She said, and Yachi nodded excitedly before dashing up the stairs and into her bedroom. The festival started at six-thirty and ended at ten. Even if that much time seemed intimidating to the blonde, she knew she would have fun.
It had been awhile since she last went to a festival. She wanted to make this one special, since she may not ever want to go to one ever again.
Once she was all dolled up, with her hair in a small high ponytail that bounced adorably, she rushed downstairs to tell her mother goodbye.
“Oh, Hitoka, you look so cute! Have fun, now. Oh - Wait!” Her mother said, ushering her over and adjusting the cream colored bow around her waist that matched the stars on the fabric. “Okay, there we go. Can I take a picture of you?” She asked, and before Yachi could give her an answer, she was already scrambling for her phone in her purse.
“M-Mom, please. . .”
“No no, I need to get a picture of this. You’re just too adorable!”
Yachi giggled, and stood in front of the window, putting on a sweet smile with her hands clasped together in front.
Snap!
“Alright, Hitoka. Have fun. If you wanna come home, just call me, okay? I may be working a little late with my designs, but try anyway.” She reminded her, and Yachi nodded in understanding before heading out quickly. She checked the time on her cellphone, and was at ease. It’s only five-twenty. . . I’ll have time. She thought, and began walking down the sidewalk with her small blue purse in hand.
Of course, Yachi remembered to watch the sky. At five-twenty-three, the sky was always a beautiful sight. It was the color that fell between light gray, and navy blue, with the perfect amount of early stars to compliment it.
Seeing this laid Yachi’s mind to rest. Whenever her nerves were beginning to go out of control, or just whenever she felt anxious in general, she would look to the sky for comfort. Or, anything blue, for that matter. Be it the collar of an old woman’s dog, or the rustic painting of someone’s bicycle, or even pictures of the ocean - they were all like small voices in Yachi’s brain, whispering, “Hey, you’ll be okay.”
She never thought those voices would suddenly take their leave one night.
On the night of the festival.
When she had arrived, the voices were loud and clear in her mind, making her heart skip a beat with anything but anxiety, or unsettling feelings.
They urged her on, and she weaved through the crowd of playful children and hollering teenagers (who she pointedly avoided). Her eyes landed on a turquoise plush someone had won - she was happy. They then scanned the various countless yukatas many children were wearing, most of them varying in any eye-catching shade of blue - she was happy.
And when her eyes locked with another girl’s, the color surely familiar to Yachi, she felt undeniably happy.
This girl was beautiful, very beautiful. She had shoulder length raven hair with a small braid, such hair framing cute glasses that seemed to shimmer when they caught the light of the hazy, setting sun. And her eyes - oh, those eyes.
Yachi couldn’t gaze at them long enough to distinguish which shade of her favorite color they were, but they were some sort of blue alright. She was sure of it.
“Oi, Yachi!” There came the voice of Kosame, which Yachi would’ve normally trembled upon hearing, but in that moment, the sixteen-year-old felt a lot better than she usually did. Kosame approached her, along with Yoru, their boyfriends, and one other girl in the group named Naota. Yachi noted they seemed to be short of one girl, but she payed it no mind.
“H-Hi guys!” Yachi squeaked, waving sheepishly. This earned an odd glare from Kosame, whose face was twisted between an offended expression and a confused one, as she looked the blonde up and down with a glint in her eyes. (Her eyes were not blue. Instead, they were the color of a rotten banana. Yachi didn’t particularly like rotten bananas, very much.)
“Where did you get that?” Kosame questioned, eyeing the short one’s yukata - though it felt more like some sort of interrogation to the small blonde.
“I found it, a-at a thrift store down to-”
“It’s pretty ugly.” Naota chimed bluntly, catching Yachi off guard whilst Kosame and Yoru giggled.
“Ah, Naota, so honest and blunt.” Yoru sing-songed, swaying her head of brown hair back and forth.
Yachi, the poor thing, didn’t really know how to respond to such an insult. Sure, the girls said things like that often. But she had hoped that they would find her yukata cute, the least bit, even. She personally loved it. But if they didn’t, then she didn’t either.
“Oh. . . hah. . . yeah, it is, my um. . . m-my mom got it for me, she didn’t e-exactly ask if I liked it or not.” She lied, a fake laugh escaping her lips.
The girls said nothing, but only shrugged. They locked arms with their boyfriends and grinned, motioning for Yachi to follow them. Of course, she was falling far behind, and the group ended up being several steps ahead of her. They laughed and flirted, seeming to not care that little Yachi had been left behind - and left out.
Yachi looked down to her yukata, squeezing the fabric at her sides with frustration.
A small, gentle voice inside of her head told her, “Don’t worry about them, Yachi.”
But Yachi didn’t listen. Instead, she wiped the pearly tears that threatened to trail down her face if she wasn’t careful, put on a big smile, and dashed along to catch up with her group.
She eventually spotted them at a booth. She glimpsed small puffs of cotton candy being passed around, and her stomach grumbled once she realized just how delicious it looked. Tapping on Kosame’s shoulder timidly, Yachi asked, “M-May I get one?” Kosame rolled her eyes, and placed a hand on her hip. “Which one do you want? Pink, blue, or white?” She replied sharply.
Yachi pointed towards the blue.
Kosame huffed, reaching forward impatiently and waiting for a small blue one to be made. Once it was finished, she handed it to Yachi uncaringly and narrowed her eyes.
“What’s with you and that damn color? It looks bad on you, anyway.” Kosame muttered, picking off a piece of her white cotton candy and popping it in her mouth.
From behind her, her boyfriend stifled a laugh, covering his mouth. His friend snorted, looking between Yachi and Kosame like he was waiting for a fight to break out.
“Geez, Kosame.” Her boyfriend teased, and she stuck her tongue at him in response.
“What? I mean, hell, look at her. She looks like a freakin’ twelve year old.” Naota added in. Yoru was paying little to no attention to the scene.
Yachi’s chin quivered. How do I respond to this. . . what do I do? She stressed. She was surprised to see the cotton candy in her hand trembling almost violently. But once she realized it was her own hand, her heart pounded once as the treat fell to the ground, and it was soon unfortunately caked in dirt.
“Oh - come on, Yachi, really? Gah, what a waste. . .” Kosame scolded bitterly, her rotten banana colored orbs flickering up to judge the nervous girl.
“I. . . I’m s-s-s-s-sorry! I really am!” Yachi exclaimed, very much on the verge of bawling at that point.
And little did Yachi know, there was someone who knew just how sorry she really was.
“Tch. If you’re really sorry, then. . .” A sly smirk spread across Kosame’s face, which was fully caked with makeup. She looked to Yoru and Naota, who seemed to know exactly what their controlling friend was thinking.
“. . . Drink and get high with us.”
When Yachi had arrived, the voices were loud and clear in her mind, making her heart skip a beat with anything but anxiety, or unsettling feelings.
But when she had left, being dragged into the outskirts of the festival by an insistent Kosame, those voices were long gone.
Yachi’s heart was thumping so loudly and repeatedly, that she almost thought she was going to have some sort of attack. Her anxiety was creeping in like the guilt of an now broken promise, and her stomach dropped to her feet, which weren’t being so cooperative with her in that awful situation.
As the others dragged her along forcefully, her vision began to blur. Her head was spinning, and the trees she tumbled past looked like large green monsters zooming behind and in front of her, which added to her anxiety.
“Stop! P-Please!” She wailed, tears already pooling at the corners of her eyes and leaving glistening trails down her cheeks.
I have to find something blue, I have to find something blue, I have to find something blue.
Not only was she outwardly panicking, but inwardly as well. Her heart and head pounded as one, and her mind raced as fast as she was in order to find something, anything , blue.
She tried her best to pry her eyes away from the forest ground in front of her, but she knew that if she looked upward for one second, she would lose her footing and fall. She knew the sky was dark, but that night, it wasn’t a dark blue. It was a blackened one, with overcast clouds that threatened to unleash rain any second.
So Yachi’s eyes flitted to her yukata. It was scuffed with dirt and black marks, and she had lost her bow somewhere during the run.
Looking at her attire made her think of the insults Kosame and her friends threw at her, so she tore her eyes away and let out another cry.
“Shut up, we’re far away now, but someone might still hear you!” Kosame said, gripping Yachi’s small wrist hard and tossing her against a tree. She turned to her boyfriend, who, along with the others, had his hands on his knees with his chest heaving for air.
“This is the spot where you hid it, right?” She asked impatiently, keeping Yachi pinned in place with a strong hold.
Her boyfriend inhaled and exhaled a few more times before leaning up and nodding tiredly. He rested a hand on his hip, and pointed to a small patch of dirt and leaves underneath Kosame. “Sure did, it’s under there.”
Kosame smirked triumphantly, still holding Yachi in place, and ushered for Yoru to retrieve the drugs.
“And where the hell is the alcohol?” Kosame said.
Naota’s boyfriend let his backpack slip to the ground, then unzipped it, revealing its alcoholic contents to the girls. They all smiled, with the exception of Yachi.
“Fuck yes!” Yoru said, upon seeing the alcohol. Her happiness faltered once she realized that she couldn’t find the drugs.
They reluctantly (and angrily) came to the decision to make Yachi drunk instead, which absolutely terrified her.
The cursing, the thunder, the amount of people crowding her and trying to force an intoxicated liquid down her throat - it was all too much. Yachi was officially a sobbing, weeping mess at that moment, her entire body shaking to an almost violent point. Soon enough, she found herself unable to properly breathe.
Kosame grabbed underneath her jaw harshly, pursing Yachi’s lips with her thumb and index finger, and tilted the bottle a little. The liquid soon came crashing into Yachi’s mouth, bubbling down her throat, and settling in her uneasy stomach.
Muffled screams emitted from her throat, and she tried her best to shove Kosame away. She might have been able to put up some sort of fight, had the others not been pinning her down.
The drink kept gushing and gushing down into Yachi’s trembling form, and her head began to feel tight. The liquid burned her tongue with each forced sip, so she started spitting it out as best as she could on Kosame’s brand new yukata.
“Ew, you little bitch!” She cursed, but was cut short abruptly. Everyone froze.
From a few feet away, a girl familiar to Yachi stood silently in the trees.
And within a few feet more, a flickering blue light came into her blurred, teary view. It was accompanied with red, but it still calmed her down a little. The comforting voices were no longer there, even so.
The sight of the beautiful girl and the fading sounds of police cars was all she was able to comprehend, before blacking out.
The second Yachi’s eyes fluttered open, she was met with the sounds of doctors bustling around and the small whimper of her mother. . . crying?
Though her vision was all but well in that moment, she looked off to the side where her mother sat, eyes glossed with tears and her makeup smeared just a tad. Once she noticed her daughter was awake, she held a hand to her heart and gave a big smile of relief.
“Hitoka! Oh my God, Hitoka!” She cried, leaning forward and gently embracing the dizzy teen.
“M-Mom. . .” She let out, inwardly overjoyed to see the familiar face of her mother. She knew she was safe now.
“Oh Hitoka, my precious Hitoka. . . what were they trying to do to you? How did this happen? You could have died, downing all of that alcohol!”
“Mom, I’m f-fine. I tried to get away, I really d-did.” She stuttered quietly, a silent tear streaking down her pale face.
There was a silence for a few minutes, as Madoka held her daughter protectively whilst crying softly into the fabric of her now ruined yukata. Then, a nurse walked in with a compassionate smile that showed reassurance.
“Mrs. Yachi, we’d like you to know that the kids who put your daughter in this position were arrested. Also, your daughter will be perfectly fine. We just need to let her rest and conduct one more test to make sure she didn’t get poisoned.” The lady said kindly, to which Madoka nodded tiredly and flashed a small smile of gratitude.
“Thank you, thank you very much.” She said.
The nurse was about to step out, when she stopped halfway and poked her head in once more with a smile. “Also, Hitoka, you have a visitor.”
A visitor? But who else could be coming to see me? Yachi wondered. Her mother seemed to be thinking the same, as she leaned up and met eyes with a beautiful girl around her daughter’s age, who stepped in quietly.
“Hello. May I speak to your daughter?” She asked, her voice very, very soft. A small smile tugged at her rosy lips, and Madoka blinked before looking between the girl and her daughter.
“Y-Yes, of course. May I ask who you are?” Yachi’s mother said, standing up and dusting off her clothes.
“My name is Kiyoko Shimizu. I go to school with your daughter.”
Yachi was blushing madly, her chin quivering and her hazel eyes wide. This is the girl that I saw. . .
She immediately recognized the silver glasses right away, the neatly placed raven hair, the porcelain skin, and those eyes. . .
As Kiyoko and Madoka conversed, Yachi was hypnotized by those shimmering orbs. And the longer she gazed, the quicker she was able to determine the exact shade of blue that Kiyoko’s eyes were. It was a familiar color; One that she often saw above her during late evenings.
It was the color that fell between light gray, and navy blue, with the perfect amount of early stars to compliment it.
The butterflies in Yachi’s were dancing out of happiness this time.
She smiled shyly.
“Hello, Yachi.” Kiyoko said quietly, stepping over and pulling out a chair to sit in. Madoka had left the room, leaving the two girls alone to talk.
“H-Hi! My n-n-name is Yachi!”
Wow. Did you really just say that? She already knew your name, idiot!
Kiyoko only chuckled lightly, tucking a small strand of her silky black hair behind her ear.
“And my name is Kiyoko.”
She did that to make me feel better.
Yachi twiddled her thumbs and bit her lip, distracting herself from Kiyoko’s exotic beauty by focusing on the blanket that draped over her waist. Unexpectedly, it was plain white. Not the color she had hoped for.
“You must be wondering why I’m visiting you.” Kiyoko stated, her hands delicately folded in her lap. Yachi, pointedly avoiding eye contact due to her shyness, only nodded her head vigorously.
Kiyoko smiled, then looked at the blonde girl fondly before explaining everything.
Once she had done so, Yachi was in awe. She took it all in, every last word.
What had her so flustered even more over this girl, was the fact that Kiyoko had been looking out for her silently at school. She had always felt sorry for Yachi, seeing her being pushed and ordered around by her own “friends.” She knew deep down that Yachi wasn’t completely happy, nor was she pleased with her choice of friends.
“I had noticed it a few weeks after school started, you see,” Kiyoko explained, catching Yachi’s attention again quickly.
“I had seen you on the first day. I wanted so badly to befriend you, but, like you, I am very shy.” A small chuckle escaped Kiyoko’s lips.
“You seemed a little lost at times. I had contemplated going up to you and introducing myself, since a few friends of mine in the volleyball club I manage had encouraged me to do it. But, well, Kosame got to you first. That’s exactly what I didn’t want to happen, and I’m sorry for letting it.”
Yachi’s eyes were the size of saucers - sparkling hazel saucers, to be exact. Her heart was beating and her cheeks were dusted pink, all because of the grateful happiness and relief she was feeling because of Kiyoko’s kind words.
“N-No don’t be sorry! I mean, you should have introduced yourself at any time! I would have loved. . . I mean - I would love to be your f-friend.” Her words were collected quickly as though she was hurriedly gathering each one to put them in a box and shut herself up.
At this, Kiyoko smiled sweetly.
“That’s great to hear. I would love to be your friend, too.”
Yachi marked three weeks since her and Kiyoko had befriended each other.
And they were the best three weeks of her life.
Not only were Kosame and her friends caught for abusing alcohol and getting high off of a plethora of different drugs on the daily, (Yachi figured out that the reason why Yoru couldn’t find the hidden drugs, was because Kiyoko had dug them up and turned them in previously) but the absence of them drew more people in towards Yachi, and especially Kiyoko.
Not that Yachi minded it in the slightest, but the beauty had gotten quite the amount of attention. Of course she certainly would, considering her good looks, kind personality, and the angelic air that floated around her whenever she passed people by. And Yachi too, began getting compliments from various students. She soon learned that people didn’t avoid her , they avoided the group she was lumped with as a whole. Many people stopped to ask her what exactly happened - Yachi had expected this after hearing a lot of the same things:
“That short blonde was in their group, so let’s ask her.”
“The only one that wasn’t arrested was poor Yachi. . . it’s no surprise, really.”
Kiyoko also took the honour of introducing Yachi to the boys in the volleyball club. They were scary to her, at first (and they were extremely rowdy - well, most of them). But she quickly grew to like them, and felt extremely safe walking into the gym with them all, a pleasant presence always at her side - and that was Kiyoko.
One day though, during the walk to their afternoon classes, Kiyoko prompted Yachi gently.
“Your favorite color is blue, correct?”
Yachi only looked at her, her eyes softly saddening for a split second.
“Well, I guess you could say it used to be. . .”
“Oh, Yachi.” Kiyoko shook her head from side to side and smiled a humble smile.
“I’ll ask you once more, now. Blue is your favorite color, correct?”
Yachi guessed she didn’t have to lie to not only Kiyoko, but herself.
“Yeah. Yeah, it is. It’s just. . .”
Kiyoko waited, letting her finish. She knew what she was going to say.
“. . .I guess I cared too much what they thought.”
“Do you still care what they think?” Kiyoko asked.
They both came to a stop in the hallway, right next to a large window that overlooked the beautiful courtyard of the school.
The two girls were lost in the afternoon sun and the bushels of flowers that swayed ever-so-gently, until Yachi calmly spoke.
“Maybe not those guys, specifically. They’re gone now, but. . . I think I still might have trouble caring too much.”
Kiyoko nodded, humming.
“May I ask you a few more things, if you don’t mind?” She said, and of course, Yachi nodded at this and put on a grin. Her grin was contagious, and the pretty girl with the glasses next to her caught the sickness.
“Alright. Yachi, answer me honestly. Are you constantly feeling sad?”
“Y-Yes.”
“Do you feel nervous a lot?”
“Yeah.”
“Does it take you quite a bit to get ready in the morning?”
“Sometimes.”
“Lastly, Yachi, when you look in the mirror, what is it you see?”
Yachi had to think about that one for a moment. She clenched her fists at her sides, and averted her gaze from Kiyoko with a small blush.
“I. . . I see someone who isn’t pretty. Someone who isn’t confident, and can try better.” She said.
The school bell chimed, and Kiyoko nodded, musing over Yachi’s response.
“Alright, then. Thank you for answering. Quickly, take these,” Kiyoko said shortly after. She rummaged through her backpack, pulling out a small package of blue sticky notes, all of them in every possible shade starting from darkest to lightest. This made the song in Yachi’s heart skip a beat.
“Read the directions I wrote on the back of the first one, and try not to lose them. Goodbye, Yachi.” The blonde gingerly took the packet from the other, looking down at them curiously.
As Kiyoko stepped away and began heading towards her next class, she stopped, before looking over her shoulder at Yachi and giving her a closed-eyed smile.
“No matter what your mirror might say, Yachi, I will always think you’re very pretty.”
And then, she was off.
The first eight sticky notes are numbered. One through eight, of course. I want you to post a different note on your mirror each day and read the messages I’ve left on them as many times as you can, starting from the first one, all the way to the last. Be sure and do what the messages tell you. It’ll give you good results, I promise. :)
P.S - After you’ve read the seventh note, please meet me in front of the fountain that Thursday at eight-o-clock.
~ Kiyoko
Yachi whispered the directions to herself, the blush her cheeks adorned growing more evident with each sentence she read.
“Kiyoko. . .” She said quietly, as she stood in her bathroom with her toothbrush dangling from the corner of her mouth. She held the sticky note to her chest, her heart beating gently.
The next morning, Yachi didn’t forget to place the first sticky note on her mirror. As she brushed out her messy blonde tresses, with the turquoise hair tie on her wrist, she read the note aloud.
“Look straight into your own eyes and smile.”
So she did.
She smiled for the rest of the morning.
The next note, which was a shade lighter than the last, told her to draw.
She was a bit confused at first. She hadn’t drawn a single thing in quite a while, due to her mostly thinking she wasn’t very good at it. But once she flipped the note over, her heart grew very warm as she read what a certain girl had written on the back: “You have talent in you, so please, use it.”
Yachi took out her old sketchbook, which had hundreds of pages left, and began to draw.
The morning after that, the note read, “Don’t care so much what others think.”
That afternoon at school, Kiyoko and Yachi shared a kiss.
It was the first kiss the both of them ever had.
The morning after that, it was, “Smile again.”
The next, “Treat yourself to lunch.”
After that, “Listen to quiet music.”
Then, Thursday morning rolled along, and Yachi waited before she placed the note on her mirror. It was the second to last one, the seventh note. The very one Kiyoko said I would read today. . . I’ll have to leave early so I can meet her, too.
She was careful to leave the message on the note invisible to her eyes, as she cautiously stuck it on the round mirror without looking.
Then, after squeezing her eyes shut for so long, she finally opened them, and they danced along the two, simple words that left Yachi’s heart throbbing and her mind hoping.
“Say yes.”
It was seven-fifty-eight, and Yachi was only a few feet away from the small fountain that stood proudly in the middle of the school’s courtyard. As she rounded the structure, the glistening water shining with the early morning sun, all else faded into slow background noise as Yachi surely met eyes with Kiyoko. Maybe everything around the two of them was growing slow. Yachi couldn’t tell, for she was enraptured by those starlit evening eyes, and the rosy lips that graced a smile just for her, the same lips that kissed her and told her how pretty she was.
“Yachi.”
“Kiyoko.”
Everything fell back into its normal pace, the birds singing their early morning song.
And the sky seemed to be in Yachi’s favor, too. Unlike that horrid night when she was getting forcefully drunk, when the black clouds were heavy with rain and the blue sky hid behind them like a frightened child, the sky that morning was the lightest of blues. Not a single cloud was to be seen.
“Yachi, I’d like to ask you something.”
“Of course.”
The note told me to say yes.
Kiyoko faced her full on, the sun creating a halo over her head as she blushed and fiddled with her skirt.
So whatever it is, Kiyoko. . . I will definitely say yes!
“Yachi. . .”
After all you’ve done for me. . .
“Would you like to be my girlfriend, and go out with me?”
I will say yes.
“Yes. Yes. Yes, Kiyoko, I will!”
The slow gracefulness of that particular beautiful moment didn’t stop the two of them from swooping one another into a loving embrace, and in a loving embrace they remained until it was time to go.
Six months later, Yachi and Kiyoko sat side by side on the swing that hung from the ceiling over Kiyoko’s porch. The sun was setting, two hearts were beating, and two hands were intertwined together.
Yachi leaned her head on Kiyoko’s shoulder as she closed her eyes restfully, her breathing soft and warm against Kiyoko’s collarbone.
“You know, Hitoka, you haven’t stuttered at all in five months, you know that?” She whispered softly, looping her thin finger through the shorter one’s hair, and playing the the silky strands fondly.
Yachi only continued to fall into a deeper sleep, and Kiyoko only continued to fall into a deeper love.
The eighth sticky note that she had given to Yachi was still proudly showcased on her bathroom mirror, and she made sure to read it every morning. It read, “Think of me often.” The neat writing fell against the lightest colored sticky note. Light blue. Yachi’s precisely favorite color in the whole wide world.
And like Kiyoko often did, just as that note had said, the gentle voices of everything blue were now settled back into Yachi’s peaceful mind. They told her that she would be okay, that she was talented, special, beautiful and that she should always smile more.
Yachi didn’t feel blue anymore, but the sight of the sky that not only twinkled above her with the evening clouds, but in Kiyoko’s eyes as well, made her very, very happy.
And hopefully, if anyone is feeling blue while reading this, it can make you happy, too.