Work Text:
Under normal circumstances, Mezato would have taken this opportunity as proof that the universe would rather have her go bother one of her friends than type up some throwaway article to fill up space in the school newspaper.
And oh, how she so wanted to agree with the universe on this overcast Wednesday morning, but the aforementioned newspaper had an entire left column that needed to be filled up with something substantial; Mezato wouldn't be able to stand having to go through a repeat of the time an entire section of the paper had been filled with pointless crossword puzzles because her advice columnist had to drop out last minute.
(And now, that same columnist had dropped out again. She needed a replacement, didn't she?)
Unfortunately, this particular situation was a Category Red Not Normal Circumstance. She had two days until publication and a section to fill.
A brief digression
Mezato had a strong disdain for the so-called "fun sections" in newspapers, but she supposed that she had to reach a wider audience somehow. As much as she disliked putting in useless, non-substantial ink wasters that practically spat out the newspaper's budget via pictures and big text, it brought the money of the childish delinquents in. Quite frankly, it pissed her off when she saw them buy a copy only to throw everything away but the "fun section." Despite this, they were an essential part of circulation and distribution. This still didn’t change Mezato’s opinion.
Mezato found herself in front of the librarian, asking a (rather rhetorical) question about—
"You can’t be serious. I mean, who else would check out a book on shrub growing?!"
—a book containing the only topic that she could see herself writing a short article on without grossly oversimplifying information.
"Sweetie, the last copy was checked out about two weeks ago, the due date's tomorrow." Mezato shifted her weight onto her left foot and pursed her lips.
"But I need to get this article in by tomorrow, the newspaper printing is right after school and we've gotta distribute copies on Friday, and then I have to start getting the next issue together, I've got to meet with the treasurer and discuss sales, and maybe find a new columnist, and-"
"Mezato, you're normally so on top of that newspaper, wouldn't the student body cut you slack if you missed one article?"
Absolutely not was what she wanted to say. It was the job of the media to deliver accurate information at the right time. She had a duty to serve to her school- if it wasn’t fulfilled satisfactorily, then her career would be ruined. It wasn't grade school anymore, this was middle school goddamnit, and another mistake in her publishing career could form a blemish on her record for the rest of her life.
"Ma'am, I really need this book. Can’t you at least tell me the person who checked it out?"
"You know I can't do that. It's against the district's rules for God knows what reason."
Mezato was about to open her mouth again to shoot something back, but decided against it, knowing that this was a battle that she wasn't allowed to win. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she slowed herself down. She would have to find the culprit responsible for stealing her book via some other method.
"Thanks anyways for being patient with me."
The librarian smiled with her parchment colored teeth.
"Don't worry about it! It’s nice to see so much spunk in young people these days.”
Mezato exited the room the way an awkward middle-schooler would, wondering about the last time she heard someone say the word “spunk” out loud without quoting some eccentric eighties band.
She pulled her unfortunately light book-bag onto her shoulder, glancing left and right before entering the hallway. Mezato’s watch informed her that she had quite some time left in the lunch period to attempt to find the person responsible for stealing the book she needed; Thirty-four minutes should certainly be enough time for her search, despite the fact that she had zero leads, minimal ideas on where to start, and an empty stomach. She hoped she wasn't missing anything too good in the cafeteria.
Another brief digression
It was highly unlikely that anything good would come from the cafeteria—Mezato was well aware of the times that she had gone hungry for an entire day, excited to eat lunch only to be met with the sight of lumpy soup on her tray. However, the thing that had disgusted her the most was the sorry excuse of lettuce that was served to the students; It often looked wilted, but not to the extent where it would have to be disposed of. This, frankly, pissed her off, and she expressed this concern very vehemently and prolifically in an infamously long edition of the school newspaper.
Luckily for her, her past article writing and deducing skills could help her find the culprit. Said person had checked out a book on shrubs of all things, which meant that they couldn't have been an awfully interesting person. They also must be cramming for some research paper, or at least something along those lines— after all, the book’s due date was tomorrow and whoever it was still hadn’t turned it in.
It was either that, or Mystery Person had lost the textbook. Mezato would classify that as a Category Black Not Normal Circumstance. This, she noted, was a bad thing- a conflict that could affect her school's well-being. She tried not to give that possibility too much thought, for the very idea of having to fill her newspaper with more word searches than necessary sent shivers down her spine.
(If Mezato were the one that had gotten her hands on that book first, then it would have been in and out of the library within a day. Once she started something, she would not pause until she had finished. What was she, an amateur? Technically yes, but that's besides the point.)
Bitterness aside, she could update her previously empty list of leads. Who among the students at Salt Middle School would be one, woefully unpopular and two, cramming a research assignment at the last minute?
Her fast pace was nearly her downfall as she turned on her heel, nearly slipping, before pacing directly back into the doorway from which she had come. Luckily, she didn’t fall flat on her ass this time (though, this had happened in the past.)
"Back so soon?" The librarian was checking another student's books out, giving no signs that she even noticed Mezato's reoccurring presence if it weren't for the acknowledgment.
"Gotta see if something else is in here," Mezato said, not pausing as she continued walking to the back of the library.
She found herself in the study section, full of tables and chairs where various students seemed to be reading books or doing homework that was probably due right after lunch. She scanned her surroundings, taking in the taste (and yes, it was a taste!) of pencils scratching on paper and the depraved sound of frantic page turning. Her gaze landed on a group of students crowded around the corner table, positioned around a textbook. The pencils clutched in their hands seemed to move at the speed of light.
No; Today their hands seemed to be moving at the speed of how fast the lunch line would form in the cafeteria on beef and broccoli days; a rate that truly transcended lightspeed. Their faces were scrunched up and their pencil leads were breaking, but their determination wasn't.
They were known as The Crammers, The Procrastinators, The Last Minute-ers; Not unlike the Hope Diamond, they went by many names. This only added to their infamy.
Yet another brief digression
Mezato had tried joining them once when she realized that she had an entire paper to do for her class next period. She remembered the agony of her left hand after only twenty minutes of scrawling down illegible chicken scratch. The moment of that lunch period that she remembered the most vividly was when the bell had rung; She still had two paragraphs to write. The rest of the crammers had stood up, satisfyingly cracked their knuckles, and let a relieved "Done!" escape their lips. No mere mortal like herself could know how to harness their power of bullshittery. The very least she could do was write an article dedicated to their dedication to procrastination.
A girl, whose concentrated face reminded Mezato of folded cardboard, noticed her gaze.
"Mezato! Have you got another paper to do with us? You've got a lot of time, y'know."
She laughed, war flashbacks of that one lunch flashing before her eyes.
"Thanks for the offer, but I think I'm just about caught up with all my schoolwork. I've actually got a question for everyone, if you guys have the time."
Without looking up from the textbook, the students nodded in unison, as if they were a hivemind. She had her theories.
"Is anyone doing a paper for biology? On shrubs or something of that sort?"
Silence.
"Nobody?"
They all shook their heads, pencils still moving across their respective papers.
"Okay, well, thanks anyway? Any idea who could check out a book like that?"
The same girl that had greeted her before looked up from her work.
"Uh, try the gardening club maybe? I think they might be doing something related to shrubs and stuff, I don't know."
This, Mezato knew, was the girl's backward way of saying that this information might not be 100% correct, so she shouldn't be held accountable if things didn't turn out the way she had said. Nonetheless, Mezato was short on time and ideas.
"’Kay, I'll try them. Thanks!"
Without waiting for a goodbye, she exited the library for the second time that hour. She walked through the hallways like a soldier, strides large and shoulders squared, eyes dead set on a path in front of her. Other students scrambled out of her way, knowing not to interfere with her article writing endeavors.
This was Serious Business.
Without too much thought, she had appeared in the doorway of the gardening club, though if one of the members were to hear her say that they would aggressively correct her, saying that they're the botany club.
The club president was sitting at the head of the table with a group of five people looking over her shoulder at what appeared to be a thick book which pages were covered in green pictures.
That was a lot easier than Mezato thought it would be. Of course the botany club would have a book on shrubbery.
"—honestly though, I think this species would be best to plant at the entrance-"
Mezato knocked on the wall to alert the members of her presence. Multiple pairs of eyes went up to try and meet her gaze, but her stare was trained on the club president.
"Hey, uh, do you guys have a moment?"
"Mezato!" the president said, taking her guiding finger off the page she had just been showing the club. "Finally doing an article on the garden we're planting in the back of the school?"
The thought didn't even cross Mezato's mind. Another article idea for another issue, she supposed. She just needed to say something other than a flat out no in response, in order to start the conversation off positively.
"Ah, yeah! ‘Bout that..." her mind was racing as she spoke, searching for the right words to say without pausing her speech, "I think I'll have to wait ‘til the plants get growing a little I think, I'm gonna to need some pictures to go along with the article, I think!"
Mezato barely stopped herself from gritting her teeth in agony for two reasons. The first was that she used the words “I think” three times in the previous sentence. The second was the realization that she would have to give the “okay” to include ink-intensive pictures in the future article. Fast thinking always led to fridge logic, and fridge logic inevitably led to regret.
A stray thought
If one were to ask a member of the newspaper club about Mezato's idiosyncrasies when she read over the first draft of an issue, they would tend to mention this first: She was extremely picky and painfully selective when it came to what she’d allow the use of ink for. She had a tight budget to manage, dammit.
The botany club president gave her a closed-mouthed smile. "Right, of course. What can we do for you then?"
"I was wondering, if I could like, borrow that book you're looking at for a little while? Just to take some pictures of the pages, I need it for the newspaper. I'll get it back to you by the end of lunch."
The club president glanced around at her fellow botany club members to gauge their reactions and seemed to be satisfied.
"Sure, if it'll only take a little," the club president said, folding the corner of the page she was on. She slid it across the table. Mezato slapped the cover before the book could slip off the edge and excused herself. Finally having found a place to sit against a wall under windows that were pouring in a satisfactory amount of natural light, she laid the book out in front of her and went to the table of contents.
An excerpt of the book's contents
Growing patterns of rubber trees, page 65
Geographical locations of the pine tree, page 90
Record-breaking redwoods, page 122
As her eyes flickered down the page, she could slowly feel her previous elation about finding the right book sink lower into her stomach. There was no sigh of relief–only a groan of realization. She slammed the book shut in frustration, startling everyone in the vicinity including herself. This natural lighting would do no good if she didn't have the stupid, stupid, stupid book that she needed. She was back in the botany club classroom at lot sooner than she would have liked to be.
"Here,” she started, not sounding thankful at all but too cranky to care. “Thanks."
"No problem, good luck on the article!"
She hid her frustration with an exuberant wave of the hand as she turned to leave the room. She was a simple girl with simple wants: All she wanted was to find the mystery person that had dared get in the way of her work. It no longer was about the shrubbery or the club budget- it was the principle. She was going to fail her friends, the club, the school, and herself. She kicked a tree, making the leaves that had barely been hanging on to its branches come flickering down. She sighed.
A sudden observation
Somehow, she had ended up outside.
She looked behind her and found yet another doorway that she had walked through this past lunch. She was behind the school, in what she assumed to be the future garden that the botany club would be cultivating once spring came around. Small plots of loose dirt seemed ready for planting- all they needed were the seeds and some water to make something grow.
Walking around the tree that she kicked, (she quietly apologized to both the Charlie Brown-esque trunk and the scattered leaves on the ground,) she sat on the side of a planter and drummed her fingers on her concrete seat. She checked her watch after a while and saw that she had seven minutes left to find this textbook before having to resolve to fill a column with a stupid word search. Maybe a crossword would be better? After all, those required some thought on the reader's part, but those often took more ink to print. Sometimes when too much ink went on a newspaper at once, the words would rub off onto her clothes and refuse to wash out.
Mezato was about to sigh again. Her chest puffed in with an inhale and the breath sat at her teeth. That was when—
"You've been, uh, sighing an awful lot."
—a female voice had interrupted her.
(Technically, she had been startled, but don't let her hear you say that. Mezato most certainly did not jump in her seat.
No, she didn't. Shut up.)
The owner of the voice looked... soft. But she couldn’t think of anything else to describe the girl who had suddenly appeared out of thin air. Her hair looked like warm caramel that was streaming down the sides of her face until it stopped at her shoulders. Her face was round and soft, to match the voice Mezato supposed, and a nose that pointed upwards. She was rather tall, taller than Mezato at the very least. She had books and papers clutched close to her chest, and a sapling of a smile playing on her lips as if she knew something that Mezato didn't. Which was... new.
A bit of introspection
It wasn't often that Mezato found herself under the scrutiny of others; it was usually herself that was observing, taking notes, and asking questions. Journalism was a science of its own kind, and when she found herself on the receiving end of what was basically an experiment, she would try to weasel her way out of the situation. Her job was to create from what the school gave her: a messenger, of sorts. She was unused to being the actual content of the message.
"Ah, yeah," Mezato starts, remembering herself, "It's what I do when I'm frustrated."
A pause.
"...I see," the girl said. A moment later, a lightbulb seemed to appear over her head. Her face lit up.
"Wait..."
Mezato couldn't help but listen.
"You're editor in chief of the newspaper, right? Mezato Ichi, or something?"
(Caramel Girl was a reader!)
"Yeah, that's me! You read the newspaper?"
"I try to! Isn't there another issue coming out this week?"
Ah. That.
"Ah. That," she replied intelligently. Mezato scratched her head. "Yeah, there is one coming out, I'm just trying to track down some material so I can write one last article."
Caramel Girl sat next to Mezato on the planter and heaved a sigh of her own. "I guess I can sort of relate? I came out here to find a quiet place to write, but I heard a bunch of sighing and thought someone was sad or crying or whatever."
This exact moment was the reason why Mezato preferred to be the observer. She wouldn't be the one with heat spreading across her face, and she wouldn't be the one pursing her lips, and averting her eyes. Mezato was a prime proponent of bounders, but at this moment she was barely containing herself from reaching out to touch Caramel Girl's hair.
Apparently Mezato had been silent for too long, because Caramel Girl didn't seem to know what to say (CG? Should she stick to CG?)
"Oh, sorry—"
"No worries! I actually can relate though, I'm having trouble with writing." CG shuffles her papers to make the edges even on her lap. "I've been wanting to write a piece on plants, so I came out here, but there's nothing but dirt and seeds and... girls out here."
Yeah, Mezato thought. Pretty ones.
"Oh, and my name's Emi by the way! Forgot to introduce myself."
Mezato’s smile bloomed gently across her face as she tried the syllables out on her lips. "Emi, huh? What're you writing there? Awful curious about what it is."
Emi stiffened. "Uh, are you sure? It's probably really bad and amateurish to someone like you." She tried to pass it off as a silly remark, but Mezato could smell the lack of confidence in her writing in her voice; a feeling that Mezato knew all too well.
She put her hand on Emi's shoulder, who looked down at where Mezato had placed her hand and followed the arm up until she was looking into her eyes. Mezato looked back. Now it was Emi’s turn to go silent.
“I’m sure it’s great.” A reassuring smile. “Would you let me see it?”
Emi, quickly breaking eye contact, looked down and wordlessly filed through the papers that had previously been clutched to her chest until she fished out a single sheet of paper. Mezato carefully took it with both of her hands, as if handling it too harshly would make it crumble into pieces and blow away in the wind.
Some writing by a girl with caramel hair
Nobody ever asks the trees what they think.
Are they tired of time pulling their leaves off when it gets chilly?
Or wearing a coat of snow on their arms?
What about when its windy?
Does it ever get tired of growing?
Don’t you ever get tired of growing?
Emi refused to look at Mezato. She seemed much more interested in fiddling with the rest of her papers, but she still spoke. “Sorry if it’s confusing, I’ve been told that it can be hard to follow, I tried checking out a book on plants and stuff but I don’t think it’s working out-”
“This is really good?”
“-I think I'll have to renew my book that I was using for research, I think it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense and I think I like how it is, but I’m not sure if other people will…”
Emi paused, finally processing what Mezato said. She looked up, not sure if she heard her correctly. Mezato noticed this and reiterated her previous statement.
“Emi, this is really, really, really good.”
So good, in fact, that Mezato had an idea, despite the fact that Emi had said “I think” three times in one sentence.
“Have you ever thought about publishing your work?”
Sputtering would have been an understatement to describe how Emi responded to that, but it was beyond Mezato’s vocabulary and knowledge to put any other word to her actions. Emi seemed truly and utterly shocked- so much so, that she stood up and tried to pace around, but Mezato caught her wrist and looked up only to see the back of her head.
“Emi?”
Emi seemed to realize what she was doing at sat back down on the planter. “I, uh, it’s funny that you mention that, I’ve been wanting to submit my stuff for a while now but I didn’t think that you accepted fiction.”
Mezato weighed the options of between being chastised by the newspaper club and being scolded by herself for filling the newspaper with crosswords. She quickly decided that the latter was a less desirable option, so she took a risk.
“Technically, we don’t, but you’ve caught me in the middle of a crisis. A columnist dropped out last minute, I need something to fill her space in, and you’re here with literature that deserves to be recognized. So... you in?”
Mezato was a straight and to the point person. This was her strength.
“I… yeah, I mean, sure? Yeah!”
“Great! Maybe we can-”
The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Emi’s face contorted into something sour. Mezato could relate
“Don’t wanna go to class, huh?”
“Ah, no no that’s not it, I need to return a book to the library and I won’t be able to do it later.”
“I’ll come with you!”
A realization
Mezato was a straight and to the point person. She had drawn herself this conclusion after she thought over what she had just said.
“You sure? You’re probably gonna get marked late for class.”
“My next class is yearbook, it’s okay if I miss some of it.”
Emi stood up and gathered her things. Mezato handed her story back to her and followed her.
“Alright, if you’re really sure.”
Another realization
Mezato considered herself to be an analytical person; someone who was left brained, one might call it. She knew herself as the one who wrote things down and watched things happen. She was not something to be observed, and in this moment, she was glad that nobody was observing her. If that were the case, then they would see her fumble over her sentences, or stare at caramel colored hair, or listen possibility too intently to Emi talking about writing, or the newspaper, or anything, really. Listening usually wasn't her strong suit, but here she was. She looked at how Emi carried herself- she squared her shoulders but had a soft air around her. And when she talked, her lips fluttered like…
Mezato didn't know the word. She wasn't good with metaphors. Maybe she'd ask Emi for one.
(Wait no, that'd be like, really gay, now that she thought about it.)
They were at Emi’s locker now. She pulled out a book that happened to have a title that caught the corner of Mezato’s eye, but maybe she would let just this one incident go.
(This whole thing has been like, really gay, now that she thought about it.)
“Didn’t you need this book at the beginning of lunch?” Mezato saw the return of the librarian’s parchment colored teeth.
Emi looked at her in bewilderment with a face that read something along the lines of " Why didn’t you tell me ?" Mezato acknowledged this with a wave of a hand, but smiled at the librarian and slid the book further across the desk where the woman was sitting.
“No ma’am, the problem’s been solved, but thank you.”
When they left the library, Emi hugged Mezato.
“Emi?” She asked for the second time that day.
“Thanks for letting me publish this, it means a lot, I don’t really share my work with a lot of people but it means a lot, wait I already said that didn’t I? Well, the point is thanks for coming back with me too and I didn’t even realize that I had the book you needed, thanks so much-”
Mezato embraced back. “Hey, there’s no problem, nothing to get emotional about-”
“I know that someone like you, who’s used to having their writing out there, might see this as silly, but this really means a lot to me.”
Mezato pulled out of the hug and took Emi’s hands in her own. She let a smile bloom across her face. Mezato was the type of person who was succinct and precise with her words, but emotions were another thing entirely.
She hoped, with everything she had, that her intent would show through.
“No problem...” she started, this time finally taking a moment to let her thoughts catch up to what she was saying. It was important that this came out right.
“Emi.” She liked the way the name shaped itself on her lips.
After showing up to yearbook nearly a half-hour late, with an unusually wide grin on her face and a mouth that seemed to move faster than usual when she talked to people, she found herself thinking about this past lunch.
Mezato could see herself in Emi. She was no fiction writer, but if she were to try her hand at writing something this instant, it would look something like this:
Indulgent daydreaming from the thoughts of Mezato Ichi
Everything about her seemed to be soft. Perhaps it was her hugs, or the way her hand would gently take yours in a loose grip and intertwine her fingers with yours. Maybe the tone of her voice seemed shy, but if there was one thing that anyone knew about her, it was that she was sharp if you were around her long enough. And at those times, there was no humming about the kind of person she was.
Her laughter was loud. Her hands were smooth. Her hair was soft.
Mezato could see herself as Emi in some situations.
(And she absolutely did not, under any circumstances, see a current or future version of herself with Emi. Shut up.)
A short epilogue
In the all-new "fiction corner" of the school newspaper, there was a regular author that repeatedly showed up in every issue. When asked, Mezato would never give out the identity of the person who called themselves "Caramel".
No, that was a secret just for her to know.