Chapter Text
Part 1: Ayano Aishi
My name is Ayano Aishi.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always struggled with my emotions. Happiness, sadness, excitement, or anger. None of it came to me naturally. Life felt flat. Boring. Colorless and dull. I couldn’t bring myself to care for anything.
My mother always promised that someday I’d meet someone who could fix that for me. Someone who brings color into my world. And, oddly enough, I ached for it. I suppose that’s the only strong emotion I’ve felt.
Want.
From a young age I watched the other girls around me live their lives as if they would die tomorrow. They’d get excited over the most unimportant things: school holidays, limited edition candies, handsome film actors. When I was still an elementary student, it was easy to get away with not caring. It was easy to get away with just about anything in elementary school. But by the time I was in middle school, girls would notice when I didn’t answer questions about boys in our class or observe the way I had nothing to say about the latest fashion trends.
After a while, I learned how to blend in. Not too much to the point where I fixate on the unnecessary, but enough to the point where I didn’t seem odd. Though, I suppose I was still a pretty odd girl.
The first time I really felt something real, though…was when I met him.
Taro Yamada—only a year ahead of me. First day of high school, 7:57 in the morning, I was completely lost. I didn’t know where my homeroom was, and I had wandered aimlessly: I knew that I was late—that couldn’t be undone—but I didn’t want to miss the first day of classes. Everything in the hall was silent and empty until I knocked right into him, sending us both crashing to the floor.
Either he was the person I was destined to meet, or I had hit my head really hard.
The entire room seemed to glow, every color growing richer, almost burning my eyes. My head felt like it was going to explode. He scrambled to his feet much faster than I did, and he outstretched his hand towards me.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“Mhm.”
I took his hand, and my entire body shivered—despite his skin being so warm.
“Lost….I’m—”
“You’re lost?”
I nodded.
“I can help you get where you need to go, if you’d like.”
I nodded.
And that was the last word he said to me for a while. But once I stepped into homeroom, I could still feel my pulse racing in the spot on my hand where we had touched. The only seat left back was the one all the way in the back—near the window. I remember looking out the glass, down onto the courtyard; even though it was a fairly pretty scene—pink cherry blossoms and the sparkling blue water of the fountain—it was like all the colors had gradually started to drain away again.
The other two times I spoke to Yamada-senpai were both in passing. Exactly twelve school days after we first ran into each other, I was behind him while he was grabbing a snack at the vending machine. When he finished the transaction and turned around, he smiled and said—
“Good morning!”
I couldn’t say anything, of course. It didn’t seem like he recognized me, and even if he did, what else could he really say to me? I was frozen in place. He left shortly after, and I got all that I needed to get from the vending machine.
Then exactly a month from that day, I had dropped my textbook. He was walking a meter or two behind me, but I heard his pace quicken and next thing I know—
“Here, let me help.”
And I did. I said nothing.
After that, we never spoke again. But whenever I saw him in the halls, I’d do my best to smile at him—and I was always met with a dazzling one from him in return. He never got my name. I technically never got his. I only found out who he was thanks to my classmates (and self-proclaimed friends). The level of knowledge they have on individual students is akin to that of a third-year student who likes to gossip. I’d never expect to hear the stories and rumors I hear from them from students who just entered high school.
I’m aware of how bizarre it is, but after learning his name, I ached to know more. I scrolled through his social media pages, scrolled through his friends’ social media pages just to see his face. Visited cafes I’d hear him talk about in passing. Watched him leave school at the end of the day and smile whenever I saw him turn in the direction I lived in. In a way, I got to know him better without talking to him. We became closer. If I spoke to him, I’d only embarrass myself.
Everything he did was so enchanting. I’d walk past the second year homerooms to see him in one of them, laughing with his friends. I wanted to be there with him, laughing too; I’ve always wanted to genuinely laugh.
When I had told my friends how I felt about him, they told me I was in love with him.
I didn’t believe it at first, I’ve never felt an ounce of love for anyone in my life. Eventually, though, the pieces started to fall into place.
There’s only one thing a girl can do when she’s in love—
—
Thursday, March 17th.
—
Ayano let out a heavy sigh.
She had meditated on whether or not she should do this the whole school year, but with some (poor) encouragement from a handful of girls in the locker room, she had decided it was finally time. Second to last day of the final semester, beneath the cherry tree behind the gym, love letter in hand, confident words prepared in the back of her mind. She had snuck a tiny pink slip into Taro’s shoe locker—
Meet me under the cherry tree behind the gym after school.
So it shouldn’t be difficult! Hand him the note, tell him how she feels—all of which in theory is very simple.
“You got this, Yan-chan!”
Those were the last words Ayano Aishi heard before she was not so gently pushed out of the back gym doors by her self-proclaimed best friend, Midori Gurin. She attempted to give the green-haired girl a small smile, however, it ended up looking much more like an uncomfortable grimace.
“...Thanks.”
With a (terribly) written letter clutched in her hands, and nothing but hope (and maybe anxiety) on her heart, Ayano subsequently began making her way to the massive cherry tree behind the gym.
Said cherry tree was notorious on campus—immaturely so. According to Akademi myth, if you were to confess to someone you like beneath its fluttering petals, you were destined to not only get together, but stay together. Usually, Ayano wouldn’t believe in such petty, childish rumors, but her mother had once mentioned that she confessed to her father under this same tree. It has to be real, right? What if it’s not? Should I have chosen a better spot?
She’s never been nervous before. Not like this.
Maybe this isn’t as simple as she thought it’d be.
Once she reaches the tree, she has to fight off the urge to spin around on her heels and retreat back to the gym; however, the thought of Taro standing alone in confusion makes her feel even worse, so she decides to stay. She circles the trunk, once, twice, and then some—anticipating his arrival.
I definitely should have chosen a better spot. The walk here is terrible.
Poor Yamada-senpai. Why would I do this to him!?
I’m so—
“Hello?” A voice calls out from the other side of the tree. He caught her right as she was halfway through her eighth pace around the tree.
Ayano slinks out from behind the tree, letter hid safely behind her back.
“Hello. I…I—” She starts silent, slowly building up as much confidence as she can. It’s ridiculously hard to sound self-assured when you’re panicking. “Yamada-senpai, I want to tell you something. I want to tell you that—”
“Do I know you?” He asks, face still warm and kind.
Huh!?
Ayano’s world tips off the shelf, falls onto the ground, and shatters. Into tiny little pieces—like broken glass. It crashes loudly in her ears, echoing over and over again until her ears begin to ring. Her face grows hot.
“...I’m Ayano Aishi. We’ve met, maybe once or twice. I’m a first year—you had…you had showed me my way to my homeroom on the first day of school…” She mutters, head down. Her hands remain behind her back, letter practically sticking to her palms with sweat. “And I think…I think I’ve been in love with you since.”
He raises a concerned eyebrow, a bead of sweat dripping down his face.
It’s almost comical, how stupid Ayano feels right now. Almost. She wants to dig a hole right in front of the tree and make the grounds of Akademi her final resting place. If she’s lucky, it’ll start storming and she’ll get struck by lightning.
“I’ve never felt this way about anyone or anything before. And—” She continues, in spite of her own humiliation. “And, I mean, I don’t expect you to feel the same way. You probably don’t. I understand.”
“Aishi-san…I’m flattered and all, but, uh…” He says, giving an awkward laugh as an attempt to ease the tension. It doesn’t work. “I don’t know if I feel the same way, I mean, I—I don’t even know you. I mean, like I know you, but I don’t know you that well, you know?”
The rich colors dim by a bit. If Ayano wasn’t so conscious of how he makes her feel, she never would’ve noticed. Her head still hangs low, bangs masking her eyes like a curtain blocking sunlight.
“Uhm, then, can you do something for me, Yamada-senpai?” She asks. “Take this—”
She holds out the love letter to him.
“Please. And…and if you ever change your mind, I’ll be waiting for you.” Taro takes it, sloppily shoving it into the back pocket of his uniform pants. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I believe you’re the only one for me, Yamada-senpai. No one’s ever made me feel anything before. No one except you. I don’t mind waiting.”
“Yeeeeeah…” He says. There’s a pained smile on his face, and, despite the emotion behind it, Ayano wants to smile back at him. “Okay.”
“I’m sorry for keeping you here. You should probably get going home.”
“Yeah, I should…I’ll, uh, see you around?”
“Yes.”
Ayano watches him walk away through the sunset-stained campus. She sits down beneath the tree, fingers threading through the freshly cut grass.
I don’t even know you.
She knows him. Arguably more than every student at school.
Us, In Color
Midori Gurin—rain or shine, phone fully charged or not—is always in a good mood.
When Ayano didn’t wake up for school on time the next morning, Midori was at her house bright and early to wake her up and walk to school with her. It’s only natural to do something like that for your best friend! Especially when they don’t answer their phone after confessing to their crush.
She knocks once, then twice, and then the third time, she does a fancy rhythm. No response.
That’s weird, usually she isn’t—
The front door swings open.
Jeez, does she look terrible.
It isn’t like Ayano consistently gets good sleep, but her eyes are puffed in a way Midori hasn’t seen on her since she got terribly sick in their second year of middle school. Did she sleep at all? Was she crying?
“Hey, Yan-chan!” Midori says, moving past her friend’s dramatic entrance. “How’d it go?”
As soon as Ayano opens her mouth to fill her in, Midori’s smile fades.
“What?! Taro-senpai really said no…?” Midori dejectedly asks, placing an sympathetic hand to Ayano’s arm. “You know what? It’s all okay, Yan-chan. He doesn’t know what he’s missing, alright?”
Ayano’s trying extra hard to keep her face neutral, and Midori can tell. She must really be upset.
“You’re right, Midori. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” She grumbles. “He doesn’t know who I am.”
“That’s not what I—uh.” Please don’t get mad at me! “He never took the opportunity to know you! Like I said before, he’s missing out. What a lose—”
Ayano shoots a sharp glare directly at Midori, effectively draining the color out of the green-haired girl’s face.
“—errr…sorry.”
The two girls walk to school in uncomfortable silence. Midori knows better than anyone that if she even dared to peep the wrong word, she’d probably be the face of a missing persons poster the following day. Going missing right before spring break would be incredibly inconvenient. The thought makes her shiver.
She eventually makes it unscathed, though, with Ayano still at her side.
“Hey, did you hear about the club festival?” Midori finally pipes up.
“Who joins clubs on the last day of school?”
“Nobody! It’s not for this school year, silly—” She jokes, playfully jabbing Ayano with her elbow. “It’s for next year. None of the third years partcipate because they graduate tomorrow. And it’s not like they’re really here, either, so all the rising club captains take the lead!”
“...Okay?”
“We should go! Maybe you’ll find something to look forward to next year. To take your mind off of…” Her eyes meet Ayano’s and she instantly regrets the next few words that were charged up in her mind. “Find something fun to do?”
“I don’t exactly have fun, Midori. You know this,” Ayano says. “Honestly, I think clubs are a waste of time.”
“Pleeeease? Can you at least just go with me? I was planning to go with a few others, but I’m totally willing to blow them off if it’s for you!” I mean it! “You can’t just mope around at home all day after school, Yan-chan…That’s so lame!”
“I’m not interested in anything, anyways so—”
“Then find something that does interest you! Or learn a skill that’ll benefit you in the future or something—” Midori says, flinging open the doors to their homeroom. “It’ll be good for youuuuu!” She sings.
Ayano sits down in her seat without so much as a reply—bag slung over her seat, eyes glued to the window.
You’ll do it.
You like to pretend to be all stubborn and stuff, but you’re really not!
Just wait, Yan-chan!
Us, In Color
“You’re lucky I agreed to this.” It’ll be a miracle if Ayano makes it through this club festival.
The last day of the term naturally came with little work and lessons to take care of, yet despite the noise in the room—the lively chatter of classmates and the agitated typing on the teacher’s keyboard—Ayano found herself spacing out the whole day. She’s extremely tired, and, if it wasn’t for Midori’s excessive pestering, she’d be on her way home already.
“Yaaaay!” Midori cheers, throwing an enthusiastic arm around Ayano’s shoulders. “Let’s visit the cooking and baking booth first—I hear they’re giving out free samples!”
The gym is horribly long, and the gym itself always seemed to be crowded, even if there were only ten students in it. Walking into the organized, colorful mess of booths and stands felt like stepping into a room with closing walls; much too oppressive and uncomfortable for Ayano’s liking.
Ayano had followed Midori to the baking club’s stand, legs were wobbling beneath her. Midori held her hand tight in her own, yanking on her every now and then to make sure she didn’t fall asleep walking. Once they reached, the green-hared girl had practically forcefed her a chocolate chip cookie (at the request of soon-to-be club president, Amai Odayaka), and, if feeling lightheaded in a cramped, hot gym wasn’t enough already—the cookie made her stomach churn in a way she didn’t even know was possible. It was embarrassing, feeling as weak as she did.
Which was why she had left the gym to get fresh air…or go to the bathroom.
On the way back, she had weaved and bobbed through students she didn’t recognize with (sickly) ease, doing her best to avoid spewing cookie remnants all over them. Her head was spinning, her mouth was extremely dry, and her heart felt like it was going to beat right out of her chest. Some water would be amazing right now.
Eventually, the light at the end of the tunnel began to show itself: the door out of the gym, leading back into the hallway. She crossed the threshold and immediately felt a wave of relief wash over her…
And a person collide with her head-on. Ayano lets out a grunt of irritation before steadying herself on her feet (which was a struggle in and of itself).
“Hey, sorry,” The person in front of her says. “I didn’t see you there.”
Ayano’s eyes trail up a loosely tied uniform tie; which lead to a solid, tan neck; which then lead to a grinning face. A boy—with a smile spreading from ear to ear and puppy brown eyes. He had a strong jaw—a strong just about everything, actually. He’d be incredibly intimidating, if it weren’t for the stupid look on his face. Or for his hair; so poorly done it’d be hard to take him seriously. Black loose strands fell over his face carelessly, save the few that were held back by a headband with characters faded past legibility. Everything about his appearance screamed careless; his hair, the way he neglected the top two buttons of his uniform shirt, the traces of a dress-code breaking t-shirt beneath it, the half-assed way he wore his tie. Careless. Irresponsible. Maybe even a bit rebellious.
“It’s fine.” Ayano replies, instinctively tightening her grip on her schoolbag.
“You good?” He asks, raising an eyebrow in what Ayano thinks might be legitimate concern. “You’re pale. Like you just saw a ghost. Am I really that scary?”
I don’t have time for jokes, I’m sick!
“I need to get by, please.” Ayano mutters, sidestepping around the boy.
“Hey, hang on a second—” He steps in front of her. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been swaying on your feet like you’re gonna pass out. I can help you, if you want.”
“...That won’t be necessary. Now, if you’d just please excuse me—”
The boy grabs her wrist, leading her down the hallway.
Ayano’s rarely ever on this side of the building. For all she knows, she could’ve easily ran into a delinquent who plans on taking her to an abandoned classroom to beat her up and take all of her cash. She had attempted to wriggle herself free a few times, but his grip held her arm firm in place.
“Let go of me, I—”
“Relax,” The boy laughs. It’s a warm sound, and Ayano can feel it running beneath her skin. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I was trying to get us to this—”
A water fountain, shining silver in the afternoon sun, calling out to her as if it were an angel beckoning her towards an oasis.
Huh.
“Thirsty?”
“Yes,” Her throat rasped, perfectly on cue. “I didn’t know this was here.”
“Most people don’t.” Mechanical whirring, water hitting metal. Ayano puts her mouth to the water, and it runs cool on her lips. Her head spins a little less with each gulp, and—after a generous amount of time—she stands up straight, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her cardigan. The boy watches her patiently, seemingly lost in thought.
“Thank you.”
That seemed to snap him out of it.
“Don’t mention it,” He says, clearing his throat. “If I had my water bottle, I totally would’ve lent it to you so you could keep hydrating throughout the rest of the afternoon. It’s not good to be dehydrated, y’know? Three liters a day.”
“Well, I appreciate your concern for me, but I’d never drink from your water bottle.”
The boy laughs, crossing his arms over his chest. His posture reeked of over-confidence. Talk about obnoxious…
“Okay, whatever you say, uh—” He stops himself mid-sentence, eyes darting around the room as if it would be any help. It clearly isn’t, as the next thing to come out of his mouth is, “What’s your name?”
There was something in Ayano that was screaming at her to just leave the hallway before this random boy talks her head off; however, there was also something in her that kept her frozen in place. He was oddly fascinating—like a car crash, a terrible disaster that you can’t tear your eyes away from.
“...Ayano Aishi.”
“Okay, whatever you say, Aishi.” The boy continues, making sure to emphasize her name—proof of memorization.
I really dislike this boy.
Airheaded and irresponsible and arrogant.
“Hey, actually!” The boy starts again, snapping his fingers. “Clubs, the club festival—were you there?”
I bumped into you outside of the gym doors. Of course I was there.
“Yes…? Why do you ask?”
“I got so caught up in helping you out that I totally forgot I have a booth to go run,” He laughs sheepishly. “Not that helping you is a bad thing. But I made a promise to help everyone and I got totally distracted!”
Booth to run…?
Him? In charge of a booth? There’s no way.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll just excuse myself, then—”
“We’re headed back to the same place, Aishi,” He says, pridefully throwing his arms behind his head. His voice is much too upbeat, and it rings in Ayano’s ears. “Let’s talk some more.”
Ayano groans.
Us, In Color
The club festival comes to a successful end, and, just like they always do, Midori and Ayano walk home together.
“Ugh, if only I had gotten sick from that cookie instead of you!” Midori whines in mock-despair. “Just casually running into Budo-senpai. If you had told me you weren’t feeling good, I could’ve just gone with you!”
“I didn’t think I needed to,” Ayano says plainly, adjusting the collar of her shirt. “You were preoccupied with Odayaka-san, anyways.”
“If the cooking and baking club can wait on bread to rise, they can wait for Akademi royalty.” Midori says, kicking at a stray pebble on the sidewalk.
“Royalty…?”
“Uh, yeah?” Midori stops dead in her tracks, leaning her back against a lamppost. “No way you don’t know. How have you been a student here all year and you’ve heard nothing about the Budo Masuta?”
“I have heard people talk about him, thank you very much,” Ayano protests, sitting on a bench parallel to Midori. The last memory of his name being brought up in conversation flies through her head: Kokona Haruka explicitly using the words greek god to describe his appearance. The more she tries to imagine it, the more uncomfortable she feels. Ayano shakes the thought. “Never in enough detail, though. I’m assuming he’s popular?”
“Oh yeah.”
“But how? He’s so…annoying.”
“Annoying, charismatic…what’s the difference?” Midori says with a smug grin, motioning at herself. “But to be honest, I think it’s because he transferred here in the middle of his first year. Apparently like two or three years ago, all of the athletic programs and clubs at Akademi started to tank. And you know how the Saikous are…they have a reputation to uphold.” Her voice drops for dramatic flair.
“...Okay?”
“Sooo! They started scouting for kids who could rebuild the programs and get them up and running like usual again: every sports team every…everything physical. I think they probably scouted two or three kids for martial arts? Budo-senpai being one of them,” Midori shrugs. “He’s apparently like really good. Super good. Crazy good. I don’t even think Akademi hosted tournaments until they scouted him. Allegedly he’s a ten-time national champion in…I don’t know what type of…y’know. But he’s like really good.”
“Really?”
That’s a national title holder?
“Oh yeah. But, to be honest, I think even if he wasn’t really super crazy good, he’d still be popular. Just seems like the type, y’know? He’s good looking, easy to talk to, funny, and he’s apparently really smart, too—but it makes sense that he gets the kind of grades that he does when he’s staying at Akademi for free.”
Ayano chokes on air; coughing violently and beating at her chest until an imaginary object shoots out her windpipe. Midori pauses, looking at her to silently ask you good? Ayano holds up a weak hand as a silent yes.
“For free…?”
“I mean, yeah…it’s the least they could do, right? I mean I’m sure there’s a few fees here and there, but they can’t exactly charge him too much when he’s the reason they can boast award winning clubs again. If it were up to me, they would be paying him! Well…him and a few other students. It’s like a business partnership. You win for me, I let you stay for free. I feel kinda bad for him though…he’s probably super busy.”
“Exactly why I told him clubs are a waste of time,” Ayano says, getting up from her seat. “While he has to slave away with club practices, personal training, schoolwork, and chores, I get to enjoy a full eight hours of sleep.”
“Wait—he asked you to join!?” Midori rushes to Ayano, clawing her nails into her shoulders. “And you said no!?”
“Yes…? I don’t see what’s so ridiculous about that,” Ayano looks off to the side. “He’s club president next term, so he did his job and recruited new members. Unfortunately for him, I’m not interested—so I turned him down. Why is this so surprising to you?” Seriously, Midori…
“Yan-chan.” Midori gives Ayano’s shoulders a single shake.
“What?”
“He asked you to join, hello!?” She says, as if what she’s trying to imply is as clear as day. It flies straight over Ayano’s head. “Wait—run me through you guys’ whole interaction. You left out a lot of details.”
Ayano sighs.
“I wasn’t feeling well, so I left the gym. Right as I left the doors, we ran into each other. He somehow managed to pick up on the fact that I wasn’t feeling well, so he took me to a nearby water fountain—”
“And…?”
“And I’m not finished,” Ayano scolds, grabbing onto Midori’s shoulders in return. The two of them stand there, hands on each other’s shoulders, speaking in hushed tones, as if the conversation is significantly more serious than it actually is. “We engaged in small talk for a bit before he asked me if I’d be interested in joining, and then obviously, I told him I wasn’t interested. Personally, I found him very obnoxious. Knowing he’s a scouted student, I guess that makes sense.”
“Obnoxious? What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, Midori, he just was. Making stupid jokes and saying all these…things. He just is!” Ayano narrows her eyes. “And you should’ve seen the way he carried himself. He stands obnoxiously.”
“Okay, maaaybe? But how would I know?” Midori finally lets go of Ayano. “I think it’s kinda nice that he picked up on you being sick so quickly. Maybe there’s more to him than he lets on.”
“I highly doubt it.”
“Hey, why not join the martial arts club and find out, ehhhh…? There’s no such thing as too many friends! And who knows…” Midori sings, waggling her eyebrows. “It may blossom into loooooooove!”
“Midori, that’s not funny, and you know it,” Ayano says sternly. Her feet pick up beneath her, and suddenly, her and Midori are in-step and on their way home again. “I’m not pursuing anyone else except…you know.”
“Okay, you’re right…I’m sorry. Bad timing?” Her question is answered with a silent nod from Ayano. “But I still think joining the club would be worth it in the long run. I’m not gonna tell you to stop liking Taro-senpai, but I am gonna tell you that you shouldn’t let one guy hold you back from living life. You could make some good friends if you join—Budo-senpai or not! And what if you end up being really good at martial arts? You never know until you try. And you can always quit! Y’know, that’s how I felt when I first played Kira Kira—”
“Alright, I get it.” Ayano sighs. “Thanks, Midori. I’m still not joining, though.”
The green-haired girl deflates, but within seconds, she’s back to animatedly chatting away.
Let one guy hold me back.
Yamada-senpai’s been…holding me back? How? I feel as if I’ve been the same as usual.
Maybe that’s the problem.
I’m strange—I know I am. I don’t understand others—even Midori, who I’ve known my whole life. She says that joining will help me connect with others, but I don’t even want to connect with others!
I just want Yamada-senpai.
Is that so hard to ask for?
Us, In Color
Part 1: Ayano Aishi