Efforts and Changes

## Chapter 1: Honoka Kousaka

“Do you… do you ever get lonely, Honoka?”

“Eh?” You have to stop completely—put down your pencil, rest the front legs of your chair back on the floor, keep your eyes on Kotori—because you don’t understand what she means, and you want to understand.

How could you possibly be lonely, surrounded as you are by everyone in μ’s?

The question is just… incomprehensible.

But Kotori looks genuinely worried (averting her eyes from yours, frowning, tapping her pencil—these signs that you’ve learned to recognize as signs), so maybe you’re missing something important, again.

It’s at times like this that you wish you were sharper—just a bit, only so that you’d stop accidentally hurting your friends.

“I mean…,” again Kotori hesitates; you rearrange your face into something that’s hopefully more encouraging (hopefully).

When she doesn’t continue, you have to resist the urge to barrel on with your clueless reply, because if you do that she’ll let it go and you’ll be stuck with a strangely empty feeling afterwards. And you’ll feel dismissed, too, as if you were a child who doesn’t know any better.

Anyway, the point is that Kotori asked you a question for unknown reasons, and you want to reassure her, somehow—like, really reassure her, because you really aren’t lonely.

Taking a deep breath, Kotori says, “Remember when Umi and I told you that we’re dating? That she and I are going out?”

You nod.

“Okay, well, we kind of just… assumed you knew what we meant by dating….”

You frown. You know what dating is; it’s a bit insulting, really, that Kotori thinks you’re so completely clueless after so many years of being friends.

“I’m not saying you don’t know, Honoka,” Kotori hastens to add, undoubtedly deciphering your expressions with enviable ease, “but, in a way… I mean, I want to ask… have you ever felt the need for a romantic partner? O-or a—” and here she reddens and smiles peculiarly at a vague point in the corner—“a sexual partner?”

“No,” you say, tilting your head because you’d thought this was obvious, but apparently not.

“Ah.”

She doesn’t say anything more. She simply stares at you, and you stare back. There’s a point in there, somewhere, that you know you missed. It makes you want to snap.

“Do you know what that’s called?”

You rub your forehead, replying, “Aromantic and asexual… right?” Maybe this has some relevance to the question…? Does she mean to say that these things make you lonely?

Her eyebrows shoot up (again, you’re offended, and maybe just a bit hurt).

Frankly, you don’t see the problem, because being ace and aro isn’t what frustrates you about yourself. It’s literally everything else about interacting with people that gets you upset, though you do find some nice parallels in romance tropes.

Like that thing about mutual pining because of misunderstanding, except for you it’s more of just mutual misunderstanding in general—maybe it’s just you, though.

“Then I guess my question is pointless,” Kotori laughs and shakes her head. She’s smiling again—her shoulders relax and she turns back to her homework.

Well, that’s as close as reassuring as you’re going to get, so you might as well turn back to your homework, too.

It’s not like you, Honoka Kousaka, can change.

“You know, I honestly thought you had a crush on me in the beginning,” Maki laughs one sunny afternoon in the music room.

For some reason, it reminds you of your non-conversation with Kotori the other day.

Maybe because you don’t understand why Maki would say something like that? Aside from the fact that Maki is as good at talking about feelings as you are at reading people, it’s not something that you ever think about in the first place.

In the beginning, you fell in love with Maki’s music, not really Maki herself. Of course, from the beginning you have loved Maki to the moon and back—or to the sun and back! Or even to Pluto and back!—but the distinction between loving someone and being in love with someone is quite clear in your mind.

It’s like loving sweets-making and being in love with bread-making.

Distinctions and metaphors are really nice (as long as they’re not ambiguous, because ambiguity is your mortal enemy).

“Hello, are you listening?”

You grin, “Sorry, I went off on a tangent.”

Maki scoffs, and she mutters something under her breath.

You ask her to please repeat that.

“I said—” Maki pauses, frowning at the piano keys, though you have an inkling that she’s not really frowning at the keys. “I said,” she continues in a softer tone, “that I’m sorry for misunderstanding. I know what it’s like to be misunderstood and yet be incapable of rectifying the error.”

Incapable of rectifying the error.

She must see something in your expression, because she elaborates—reluctantly, according to her angled chin and her fidgeting with her hair—“Well, I don’t understand how you’re so artless, but I know how frustrating it is to have the words trapped on the tip of your tongue.

“Somehow things don’t translate perfectly from your thoughts to reality.”

“Artless?” you echo for lack of a good response to the rest of Maki’s statement—

Because she’s said it aloud so perfectly: the words are on the tip of your tongue and they’re stuck there on that brink, no matter how hard you try to force them out.

Maki plays a few notes on the piano, melancholic, and shrugs when her hands fall still.

There’s something you missed, somewhere—but, but Maki has the same problem as you. She, too, has trouble saying what she wants to say.

So it doesn’t upset you here. She doesn’t expect you to fill in the gaps.

“I thought you had a crush on me in the beginning,” Maki repeats, “because you were so open with your admiration for my music that your entire face would light up. Then you were straightforward about what you wanted from me, so straightforward that I couldn’t believe you were being honest.”

Laughing, she says, “I can’t believe it took me a while to realize that you don’t have a deceptive bone in your body.” She shakes her head and begins to play again, a happy song this time.

But that’s not true.

You could tell Maki about your deceptions—like the time you pretended not to notice the argument over who would be μ’s leader, and the countless times you’ve turned a blind eye to Umi’s jealousy, and even the time you glossed over the fact that you’d caught Eli and Nozomi in a compromising position.

You could tell her all that, and more, if you think long enough. But this is something you’d rather not admit to. It’s… your shield against expectations, because if people knew that you do notice things, they’d question why you don’t always notice what’s going on around you, and you don’t have an explanation for that.

Right now, it’s enough that Maki understands the difficulty you have expressing yourself—it’s more than you’ve ever had.

“Honoka, may I have a moment of your time?” Eli stops you after practice.

Waving away Kotori and Umi’s offer to wait for you, you say, “Sure!” You don’t spend nearly enough time with your upperclassmen, after all.

Everyone else, however, leaves the rooftop a bit more quickly than you’d expected. Only Nozomi pauses, exchanging some sort of look with Eli, before smiling at you and leaving.

Then it’s just you and Eli—that’s the sign you need to understand that this is something important and sensitive. It’s not going to be a casual conversation between friends, necessarily.

Umi taught you that. Or, well, you’ve learned after a lot of trial and error the rough meaning of Umi’s habits.

Eli, you’ve noticed, is a bit like Umi (it’s only their shared tendency toward strictness that tipped you off to their similarity, honestly). But there are—as always—some things that confuse you, so you can’t be too confident.

“Honoka—” Eli says your name with weight, as if there’s a meaning hidden in there—“I want you to be the next student council president.”

“Eh?”

No one in μ’s talks about the third years’ impending graduation: you don’t because it hurts, and in this you think everyone else feels the same.

This isn’t exactly breaking that unspoken rule, yet there’s something you’re not seeing, you’re sure. There must be, because Eli’s request may be simple but you can’t for the life of you fathom why she would choose you for her successor, when there are others far, far more reliable for the post.

“As you know, the term for all offices in the student council is coming to an end,” Eli explains. Her arms cross behind her back and her shoulders are square and she’s not exactly smiling. “I am authorized by the school to choose who will follow me as student council president—and you are my choice, Honoka.”

You nod; that’s not the part you don’t understand, so you wait for her to continue.

It seems, though, that she wants you to say something first.

“Uh, well, thank you for thinking so highly of me, Eli,” you waffle, shifting your weight, because what else is there to say?

“You don’t want the position?” Eli questions, frowning—disbelievingly, maybe. Definitely disappointed, her drooping shoulders say.

You shrug. You don’t know why she’d be disappointed, since it’s better for everyone involved that you not take such an important position. Eli really should’ve given this more thought.

“Please, Honoka,” Eli insists, bringing her hands to loosely hold your own, “give it some thought, okay? I don’t need to turn in my nomination until the end of the school day on Friday, so think about it and give me your answer then—I’ll respect your decision, I promise.”

Eli isn’t one for physical contact. At least, that’s what her stiffness implies, but Eli isn’t a cold person.

She means it.

She wants you to be the next student council president.

You, Honoka Kousaka.

Because you don’t understand, and you want to understand, you ask, “Why?”

“Why not?” Eli returns and her eyebrows rise. “You have charisma, your attitude is uplifting, your heart is in the right place, and you have a head for decision making. I think you would make an excellent student council president, Honoka.”

Your heart is in the right place.

Isn’t that what Umi says whenever you mess up but she can’t stay mad at you? Like it’s a consolation prize, offered to appease you and to excuse your clumsiness.

“Okay. I’ll think about it,” though you’re certain you’re going to turn down the offer anyway. Still, you’ll pretend to consider it, just to spare Eli’s feelings.

“Horosho! Thank you, Honoka.”

“How’d it go?” Hanayo asks with a soft smile, sympathetic in your shared plight.

Grinning, you announce, “Not a single kilo gained! Umi says I’m doing a good job of staying on track. And yours?”

“That’s good! It’s the same for me, too,” Hanayo reports.

“Then,” you lean forward, smirking conspiratorially, “let’s celebrate! There’s this special sale at a bakery near my house.”

Hanayo groans at your suggestion—more distressed than exasperated, you think, because her lips pinch together and her hands start fidgeting. It’s not accompanied by an eye-roll, which is usually what Umi does when she’s annoyed with your antics, or a smile, which is Kotori’s response.

Okay, so all that means Hanayo isn’t comfortable with the idea of indulging.

Weight doesn’t really matter to you; you only pay attention to it because you’ve been taught—by your friends and school and magazines—that it should have a certain level of importance.

“Or we can go window shopping! Try on some cute outfits!”

Cheering right up, Hanayo adds, “Then can we invite Rin, too?” There’s a wavering smile, maybe uncertain, definitely shy.

You nod enthusiastically; it’s not an inconvenience—the more the merrier, by your count. There’s nothing quite like being surrounded by friends. Not even watching a fresh batch of rolls bake is as heart-warming.

Again, Hanayo’s smile widens, and even though it’s such a little thing, what you’ve done, you mentally pat yourself on the back for getting this right.

You need to cherish all the things you get right, no matter how easy or insignificant it may seem to either of you.

“Let me just text Rin, then, and we can wait for her at the gates, if that’s okay…?”

“Sure thing!”

Hanayo promptly hunches over her cell phone, and the two of you slowly walk away from the nurse’s office.

She giggles at something—it’s something of a mystery to you, how she’s so timid, yet confidence hides beneath that deep layer of shyness.

Shyness has never been a problem for you; quite the opposite, in fact. You’re usually too loud, too outgoing, too close for people.

It’s like what Maki said, actually: you’re earnest and you’re artless, and somehow that puts others off. Most people look at you a little oddly for not fitting in, for being so unapologetically different.

You’d be apologetic if you could, though. You really would be.

“Hey, nya~” Rin greets you both as she jogs up to you, her bag slung over her shoulder and her grin relaxed. “Good job on keepin’ fit! I knew you could both do it, nya!”

“T-thanks, Rin,” Hanayo replies, a blush darkening her cheeks and making her eyes sparkle.

You thank Rin, too, even if you don’t understand it.

Cherish what you can do.

And what does that entail? Well….

“D-do you think we could stop by an idol shop on the way, maybe?” Hanayo fiddles with the edges of her jacket sleeves.

Fidgeting is a sign of nervousness and of boredom (you’ve often been told that your fidgeting gives you away when you’re restless), though why would Hanayo be nervous or bored? Ah, maybe you can rule out boredom—that’s not likely to be the problem.

But you just nod—you’re not completely tactless—and say, “Lead the way, then!”

Since Rin and Hanayo are childhood friends, they walk and talk with a familiarity akin to that buried in your muscles for kneading dough.

It’s as natural as breathing, really.

This must be what it’s like, to see yourself and Kotori and Umi interacting: there are layers, inside jokes, subtle messages that go over your head, and they look so at ease with each other.

(Except you know better, from personal experience.)

“What do you think, Honoka?” Hanayo asks, slowing down to match your pace even though you’d purposefully retreated from their conversation. “Would pastel blue be a good color on Rin?”

Rin socks your shoulder, playfully threatening, “You’d better say no, nya! It’d totally clash with my hair!”

With a grin, you reply, “Kotori’s the person to ask about that kind of thing, but I think you’d look good in pastel blue, Rin! Maybe we should get you a hat in that color to prove it, hm?”

Hanayo nods enthusiastically and Rin groans.

So you find yourself in a boutique somewhere in the shopping district, trying on hats both jokingly and seriously.

Isn’t it funny, how easily they engage you into their conversation? You fit in so well, and there’s no awkwardness, or pressure, or anything of the sort.

What makes Hanayo and Rin stand apart from the others? Why is it easier with them than with Kotori and Umi, your closest friends?

You have a worrisome thought, then: maybe it’s easier simply because Hanayo and Rin haven’t known you long enough to know how much you mess up.

They don’t know that you’ve spent your entire life trying to learn how to be sociable; Hanayo and Rin only know you as their seemingly reliable upperclassman.

They all think you single-handedly constructed μ’s from the dredges of hopelessness.

It’s not like you’re deaf, after all. Just a little bit oblivious, so yes, it took you a while to realize that they have something of a double standard for you.

But Hanayo and Rin in particular have unconsciously put you on a pedestal you don’t deserve.

Once they do find out, maybe their behavior towards you will change, like how Umi started scolding you more the older the both of you got. They’ll see that what you have is pure dumb luck and an inability to know when to give up.

The thought is enough to force you to stop, right in the middle of trying on a dress, to call through the changing room door, “Thank you, Hanayo and Rin. It means a lot to me that you joined me today.”

Here, in this little space, your voice resonates, and you notice that your voice is… solemn.

Are you sad?

Maybe you are.

“Nya, we don’t need thanks for that, Honoka! We’re always glad to hang out!”

“R-right! It’s fun hanging out with you, Honoka, it really, really is!”

You honestly don’t see it. But right now, you don’t have it in you to argue the point, and you’re thankful that they can’t see you wipe away a few tears.

“Good morning, Honoka! You’re earlier than usual.”

You tilt your head and laugh, “I’d say the same about you, Nozomi!”

It puts a little dent in your plans to come up here to think, but you’re not one to turn down company; it’s a comfort you can’t bring yourself to forgo.

That’s what Hanayo and Rin have taught you.

You’re nothing without your friends.

“I decided to check up on a few things around the shrine,” Nozomi explains, gesturing around the grounds. “I haven’t had shrine duty for the past few days, but I like to keep tabs on how it’s going, you know?”

“Mhm, I see,” you say for lack of a better answer.

Nozomi, of course, forgives your apparent disinterest with a friendly laugh and shake of her head. Nozomi is great like that—she readily forgives your blunders.

“I just came here to think,” you explain yourself, abruptly having the urge to bounce your thoughts off of someone else, and who better than Nozomi? “I mean, I feel that I’ve already made my decision… I’m just not… certain.”

Nozomi hums as she takes a seat on the shrine steps, and you follow her.

“See, I think what bothers me the most….” You hesitate. Right now, strangely, it’s not that you can’t say it; you don’t know if you want to say it out loud.

You stare at the people trickling about, and you wonder: will anyone ever understand you completely? Maki was partway there, but… there’s something about you that doesn’t quite fit.

“Go on,” Nozomi gently prompts.

You can tell Nozomi, right? And, being Eli’s closest friend (among other things), Nozomi might even have an answer for you.

“Eli asked me to be the next student council president.”

“Ah,” Nozomi nods. “That.”

She smiles; you’re not sure what kind of smile that is—

“Hey, Nozomi?” your mouth says before you can quite reel in the impulse.

“Yes, Honoka?” Her expression changes, settles into something calm, and she looks at you with undivided attention.

People are like mille-feuille: thin layers, almost impossible to separate from one another.

You dare ask, trusting (hoping) that you’ll be safe, “What was that expression, Nozomi?”

She looks at you for a long moment.

Her eyes roam over your face, a bit like Kotori does when she wants to pull the answer from you when you can’t give it yourself.

“Wry,” Nozomi answers at last—it’s not the answer she must have found in your expression—mimicking the previous twist in her lips and that shadow in her eyes. “See? It’s like… being amused by a painful truth.”

You frown. “But why would you be amused at something that hurts you?”

“It’s a bit like making fun of yourself. You haven’t quite accepted the truth, but you’ve acknowledged it, which is a pretty important step.”

Wry. Accepted versus acknowledged.

Maybe you’ve seen this expression somewhere else before. Not Umi, or Kotori, you don’t think. Rin—yes, Rin, her smile that sometimes didn’t fit in with your previous categories. Maki, too, sometimes. And maybe you’ve worn that face yourself, sometimes.

You don’t ask, however, for the reason behind Nozomi’s wry smile. It’s not your place.

“Honoka,” Nozomi says in an echo of Eli’s voice.

“Y-yes?” You’re not sure you like hearing your name said with such heaviness. It simply doesn’t fit with who you are. There isn’t any meaningfulness to you.

“I can’t tell you if you should or shouldn’t take the position, Honoka. The cards say that it’s your decision alone—you have to find the answer to the question you don’t want to ask.”

Her expression is wry again.

Is it wry on your behalf? Has she realized that you, Honoka Kousaka, cannot change? That this is a futile question?

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here, Honoka! Umi, Honoka’s here already, with Nozomi!”

“Well,” Nozomi says, motioning with her chin in the direction of Kotori’s voice, “it looks like the others are here.”

“What brings you to the great Nico Nico Nii’s sanctuary?”

“I’d like some advice, Nico.” You close the clubroom door behind you.

Nico jumps up, beaming, “No one gives advice like the great Nico Nico Nii! I’ll be sure to meet all your Nico Nico needs!” She gives you her signature pose.

“Um,” is all that comes out of your mouth; you turn to stare at Nico’s vast collection of idol merchandise (though Hanayo’s is catching up!) while you try to collect your wayward thoughts. Why are you here to begin with?

Luckily, Nico seems to take your lost silence as a sign that this is something… different than the usual, because she sighs, loudly, “Geez, fine, take a seat and spill your guts to me if that’s how you want to go about it!”

It makes you laugh nervously as you sit across from Nico.

She drums her fingers against the table, waiting for you to say something.

Well, you might as well just jump right in, right? Plan or no plan, you have a nice streak of good luck going for you.

But then the first thing you manage to say is: “I want to know why you didn’t give up on your dream of becoming an idol.”

She stares at you, mouth open, but she quickly snaps, “I don’t have to explain myself to you,” in the same way that Yukiho and Maki do, when they don’t really mean it.

“Please, Nico,” you place your hands on the table, palms flat, “I need to know why.”

You’d like to tell her that everything’s telling you to give up, that there are so many people more deserving, that you can’t possibly change, and that there’s this yearning in your chest you don’t know what to do with.

And, as it always happens, you can’t say what you want to say.

“Haven’t you realized, though?” Nico scowls. “I did give up. I holed myself up in this clubroom, I collected all this merchandise—” she sweeps her arms to encompass the clubroom—“and I became bitter.

“Only μ’s was able to bring my dream back from the dead. If anything, I should be asking you why you didn’t give up even after Eli, the chairperson, and I told you to give it up. When the whole auditorium was completely empty, you kept on going. When your ranking was at rock-bottom, you gave it your all—you pulled through. And even after you gave up, you had the audacity to come back!”

Nico’s eyes blaze; they bore into you. Is she accusing you? Is she indignant that, after everything you’ve been through, you still don’t understand?

“So you tell me, Honoka.”

You don’t answer.

There is no answer. There isn’t even a question.

“I guess it’s partly why I’m so invested in my dream,” Nico admits—confides?—with her head turned away from you now.

You lean forward to listen better (maybe this is salvageable, after all).

“After being told, over and over again, that I can’t be an idol, I’ve developed something of a contrarian response: I’ll become an idol just to spite them! Just to prove to myself and to them that I can.”

She chuckles (pained? Wry? Bitter?).

“Do you know that nursery rhyme, ‘Mary, Mary, quite contrary’?”

You shake your head. You can memorize recipes no problem, but everything else seems to go in one ear and out the other, and what truly matters remains buried under layers of pretending that everything’s okay—that’s your painful truth.

It’s something hopeless.

Nico shrugs, “It’s something of a taunt, honestly, but that first line’s the gist of what I mean. I’m a contrarian: I’ll do the opposite for the principle of it.

“But, really, Honoka… you already have the answer, don’t you? It’s this, and more.”

“Hey,” Yukiho knocks on the side of your door, “you’ve been a bit distracted lately, big sis.”

Too tired to move from your position, you simply roll your head towards her.

“Want help?” She joins you on the bed, her back towards you; you turn your head to face the ceiling again.

Yukiho, your little sister, is far more perceptive than you are.

She’s had to help you lots of times, when you have arguments with Umi or Kotori that puzzle you to no end, or when someone says something and it tumbles around in your head, gnawing at you, or when you want to test yourself to see how well you can recognize body language and other cues.

That last one is particularly important for you.

Even though you’re the older sister, it often feels like Yukiho is the one taking care of you instead of the other way around.

“Do you think I’d make a good student council president, Yukiho?”

“…I dunno, big sis. Probably.”

You scowl, “What kind of answer is that?”

“Well, it’s hard to tell, big sis. You’d have to look at what sort of responsibilities you’ll have and what else is expected, though not necessarily required. But you’re dedicated and you have lots of people who’d be willing to help you out.”

Ah, but that’s the problem: you have to rely on others.

More often than not, you end up causing more trouble for them in trying to help.

It must be a minor miracle that μ’s has flourished so much despite your inexperienced care and bumbling ways.

You’re not meant for responsibility. You should probably just stick with μ’s and stop pushing your luck so much.

“It’s okay to ask for help, big sis,” Yukiho tells you for what is probably the millionth time. “So what if it’s troublesome? You are worth the effort, big sis.”

That brings the burgeoning resentment in your chest to a halt.

You are worth the effort.

At the end of the day… you are worth the effort. It’s as simple as that, and you don’t know why it’s such a revelation.

It’s true that you have a hidden reserve of bitterness, of resentment, of insecurity. It’s true that you have pessimism buried beneath your optimism. It’s true that you’re oblivious, airheaded, and clumsy.

But hasn’t μ’s shown you that you can be more than Honoka Kousaka? Haven’t you been the unanimous glue of your school’s idol group? Haven’t you grown and helped others grow alongside you?

Don’t you remember the outpouring of support from your entire school the day of that first Love Live? Don’t you remember the hours spent over lyrics, costumes, choreography? Don’t you remember all the emotions—from wallowing in self-pity when Kotori was set to leave to soaring unbelievable heights at winning the Love Live—that you’ve experienced so far?

All of that was worth the effort.

It’s not that big of a leap to say that you are, too.

Yukiho laughs, “See, big sis? Sure, it takes a while, and a lot of effort. You have it all in you, though, big sis.

“Just keep doing what you’ve been doing. You’ll get there—at your own pace and on your own terms.”

“I will,” you answer. “I’m not going to change now that I know.”

“E-eh?”

Something like excitement flutters in your chest.

“I have something to say.”

Umi looks you, listening in that intent way of hers, and nods.

You see the way she grips the edge of the table.

Umi’s preparing herself for more of your crazy ideas, isn’t she?

“I’m going to be student council president,” you tell Umi (and you clench your fists when she frowns), “I know I won’t be the best at it, and I’ll slack off, and I’ll make mistakes, and I’ll depend on you guys a lot, but—but I’m going to prove that I can do it.”

This is where it culminates: it’s ‘we don’t need thanks for that’ and feelings on the tip of your tongue that you’ve embedded in your very being, as familiar to you as recipes for rye and ideas for using sour dough.

“I’ve—I’ve got lots of things that my friends gave me, you see, and, and I want to put them to good use!”

What are you saying?

You smile—wry with questions you don’t want to ask. It feels almost alien, possibly because you don’t often pay attention to what your face is doing.

Umi’s eyes are wide. You’ve taken her by surprise, haven’t you? Just as you’ve surprised Kotori, Maki, Eli, Hanayo, Rin, Nozomi, Nico, and even Yukiho.

It seems that Honoka Kousaka isn’t entirely predictable.

“It’s worth the effort,” you say—

About yourself, and about being student council president, and about trying to be better.

“There are parts of me that don’t fit in,” like not needing a partner, but always needing friends, and catching some things but not others, and other layers that take a while to reach, “but you’re my friend, Umi. That means something—right?”

You can’t help the squeak of insecurity in that last word.

See, Umi’s been… the biggest symbol… the indicator—Umi’s always been the model of who you should be.

Elementary teachers (though their names and faces have long since faded in your memory, their words stay with you) would often tell you to be more like Umi. Your mother, sometimes, would idly wish that you were more like Umi. Your friends, your fans, who admire Umi’s responsible aura, who seek Umi’s help and commend you for your charisma and your heart in the right place.

And you, yourself, who have watched Umi never give up in her attempts to reform you; where others gave up sooner or later, Umi has spent years trying to turn you into someone better adjusted.

That’s one of the things that you keep close to your heart, like the secret ingredient to some wildly successful recipe: you have mixed feelings about it.

“It does,” she agrees.

Umi smiles—sad. There are even tears in her eyes!

“U-Umi—”

“I’m so, so sorry I didn’t realize how you felt, Honoka,” is what Umi says. “It was never my intention to make you feel inferior to me, to everyone else.”

Inferior.

Ah. Is that what this weight in your chest has been?

“I only wanted to make things easier for you—that’s why I’ve been so harsh. I’ve only ever wanted to help you, even when it got frustrating. I shouldn’t have taken your attitude for granted, however. That is truly an unforgivable error on my part, Honoka.”

Here is a prime example of your inability to see: a misunderstanding that spans years, that has lived on the tip of your tongue and on the edges of your smiles, is all that this is?

You close your eyes.

You could scream in frustration right now.

“I thought you were trying to change me,” you say, and your voice wobbles.

“No,” comes Umi’s voice, closer than you expected. She’s kneeling right beside your chair when you open your eyes. “And I thought you didn’t care.”

“No,” you echo, hunching over to clutch at her hands. “I do care.”

She smiles and squeezes your hands in hers—have you forgiven each other? Is that what this means? Have you said enough?

“Let us go,” Umi stands, pulling you up with her, “let’s tell Eli you’ve decided.”

You stop; your arm goes taut as Umi keeps walking for a moment before she glances back at you, questioning.

You can do it, can’t you?

There’s one thing left to say, that you’ve wanted to say for ages and ages but never could.

“I’m not going to change. I’m going to learn, and maybe I’ll get better, but I’m not going to change.”

And Umi replies, “I wouldn’t have you any other way, Honoka.”

## Chapter 2: Umi Sonoda

“Do you ever wonder, Umi, what others think of you?”

“P-pardon?” Not that you didn’t hear or weren’t paying attention, no. It’s simply that the question is… an odd one, especially coming from Nico of all people.

Moreover, you aren’t about to admit that it’s a thought that occasionally (often) creeps into your mind; that would be much too personal an answer for a question of mere curiosity’s sake.

When Nico regards you with almost uncharacteristic gravity, however, you pause to reconsider her question. If it means this much to her, then of course you must meet her with equal seriousness in return.

Still, you don’t want to give too much of your own insecurities away—ironically enough, you are quite aware that you have an image to uphold.

“I think, well,” you can’t help but let your eyes stray to Honoka and Kotori on the other side of the rooftop as you answer, “I think it is a natural, human impulse to do so. I cannot deny that I occasionally dwell on it, myself, every now and then.” You turn to Nico for her response, to see where she is going with this.

Nico nods and she, too, looks to Honoka and Kotori.

“But some people,” she muses, “some people wonder more than others, don’t they? And then it becomes something more.”

You frown, not quite understanding. “Everyone is different… and I would not say it makes you less of a person for it,” you say, because you know what it is like to fret over others’ opinions, and perhaps Nico is beginning to compare her slight vanity to Kotori’s modesty.

Nico scoffs, glaring at you, “I’m not talking about me, dummy.” Her eyes once again stray to Kotori and Honoka, and her expression softens. “No… I’m just wondering what Honoka thinks of herself.”

Your eyebrows go up in surprise this time.

“Don’t you ever wonder, too?” Nico adds when she catches your startled expression.

“Of course not,” you dismiss the notion. “Honoka’s too confident to question herself. If anything, I wish she would think more about her reputation with others; it would save me a lot of headaches and time, I’m sure,” because goodness knows you’ve spent far too long chasing after Honoka.

Shaking her head, Nico says, “That’s not what I meant. This isn’t about wondering if your clothes are weird, or if your hair is nice, or if your laugh is too loud, or if they like your joke—none of that stuff is what I mean.”

Isn’t that, though, precisely what it means to wonder what others think of you?

Before you can ask for clarification, Eli claps her hands to announce the end of practice, and then Nico quickly slips away, only pausing to give you a scrutinizing look on her way out the door that is entirely too cryptic yet just enough to linger in your thoughts.

And so you wonder, glancing intermittently at Honoka’s cheery face, what Nico had meant.

What does Nico see in Honoka that you cannot?

“What’s with the ruckus?”

You turn to greet Eli, who has her head poked out of the student council room and looking bemused. It’s then that you realize that she probably heard you shouting after Honoka.

“P-pardon me,” you give Eli a shallow bow, “I might have gotten carried away in chasing down Honoka.” You grimace.

“Oh,” to your surprise, Eli laughs sheepishly and gestures for you to join her inside.

Although you aren’t one to say no to your upperclassmen, you consider excusing yourself, since Honoka really should get around to studying for the upcoming quiz and if you let her escape now it’ll be that much harder to get her to focus when you next track her down.

Then again, Kotori will probably have better luck getting through to Honoka.

“We won’t take long, I think. Actually,” Eli chuckles, “we’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while now, Umi.”

“We?” you echo, following her in, but then you notice Nozomi by the windows; of course, you should’ve remembered that Nozomi rarely lets Eli be by herself in the student council room. “Ah, good afternoon, Nozomi.”

She faces you briefly, giving you a smile, but her focus returns to whatever it is she’s looking at outside.

Eli gestures to an empty seat as she takes her own—you have to shake off the faint feeling of being in a student-teacher conference when Eli leans forward with her hands clasped on the table and a stern expression on her face.

“About Honoka,” Eli pauses to glance at Nozomi, who keeps her back to the both of you, “I have to ask that you please give her some leeway for now. I have given her a certain matter to think about, you see, and while I know it has distracted her somewhat,” and here at least Eli has the grace to look guilty, “it is important.”

It makes you wonder why Eli speaks so obliquely of this “matter.” What could she possibly ask of Honoka that you, Umi Sonoda, cannot know? You hope Eli has not fallen into the same trap that Kotori has, always babying Honoka and making excuses for her.

Perhaps it’s that twinge of suspicion and disapproval that enables you to remark, “Honoka has not said anything to indicate that she has important matters on her mind.”

At this, Nozomi finally turns to watch, interest clear in her expression (and making you slightly uneasy).

“That is for Honoka to know,” Eli says in return, frowning slightly to indicate that you’re about to overstep your boundaries; it’s not often that Eli exerts her authoritative aura, now that µ’s has become so close-knit, so it comes as a surprise for her to stand so firmly in this.

Your shock must show on your face, because Eli softens again.

“Honoka will tell you herself when she comes to a decision, I promise.”

Somehow, that doesn’t sit well with you.

It also reminds you of that peculiar question Nico brought up the other day.

“Umi,” Nozomi interrupts your thoughts and you turn to face her, “I had a certain conversation with Honoka yesterday—” a certain conversation. Why so vague?—“that lead me to wonder. You, as one of her oldest friends, might be able to clarify this for me.” Nozomi crosses her arms.

You frown more deeply, and your earlier unease returns. This, indeed, strongly resembles a scene you had thought long buried: Umi Sonoda trying to defend Honoka Kousaka to the principal and homeroom teacher. The parallel in Eli and Nozomi’s positions is not lost on you.

And so you brace yourself for one more accusation.

It’s not like you hadn’t expected this to eventually come up. They, all of µ’s, had to have noticed by now. Your job is to nip it in the bud here.

“Has Honoka always been like this?”

You meet Nozomi’s gaze steadily as you probe, “Has she been like what, precisely?” You need to know Nozomi’s stance on this in order to formulate a proper rebuttal—as caring as Nozomi may be, you are not about to let that sway you into a false sense of security.

Not where Honoka is concerned.

“Has she always had trouble with deciphering people’s expressions?” is Nozomi’s question, posed cautiously but straightforward nonetheless.

It is not accusatory.

You nod curtly.

Eli chooses this moment to interject, “Really? I’ve never noticed.” She appears genuinely taken aback.

“She’s practiced,” you say with a touch of pride seeping into your voice.

“But she didn’t know what wry meant,” Nozomi points out to your own surprise. “I made this expression,” she demonstrates a wry smile, “and she asked me what it meant.”

You consider what this means.

On one hand, if Honoka felt safe enough to ask Nozomi, then perhaps you don’t need to be wary of Nozomi—Honoka’s judgement of people tends to give them the benefit of the doubt, but in this aspect she does exert some caution.

On the other hand, Honoka’s judgement is skewed. Detecting deception is beyond her current understanding.

“Yukiho,” you reply at last, “helps her learn new expressions and body language. Sometimes, however, Honoka forgets. It is… difficult. Honoka is a tad defensive when it comes to this. If she asked you to clarify—” here, you give Nozomi your most stern frown—“then she wholly trusts you.”

It’s an oblique warning, to test the waters.

“That might explain it,” Eli murmurs with a troubled frown. “I wondered why… and now I’ve gone and upset her, haven’t I?”

Bristling at the admission, you snap, “What did you tell her?”

Honoka hadn’t seemed upset when you saw earlier today—distracted, yes, but you are quite used to her being absentminded—but what if you missed something? What if—

“Nothing bad,” Nozomi intervenes, “and it really is Honoka’s decision, whether we upset her or not.” The look she gives you is, well, wry. “You can’t protect Honoka from the world forever, Umi. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that you shouldn’t.”

You aren’t going to get anything else out of Eli and Nozomi.

“If you will excuse me, I need to find Honoka.” You dip your head to them as you leave, but Nozomi says:

“Please, Umi. Give her the benefit of the doubt.”

“Umi!”

You flinch, not having expected to run into anyone here—in fact, you’d been counting on the fact that you wouldn’t.

But it would be rude, and perhaps even a tad cruel, to leave Hanayo hanging like that, so you slow your steps and crane your neck to locate the girl in the crowd. You briefly catch sight of a frantically waving hand about a dozen feet behind you but, oddly enough, you can’t see Hanayo herself.

“Help meeee!”

Ah, but you definitely hear Hanayo’s helpless wail, leaving you no choice but to dive into the crowd. You apologize to a few people as you bump into their bags and shoulders—luckily, you don’t step on anyone’s toes and you quickly find Hanayo behind a rather large man and a few old ladies.

“Pardon me,” you tell the ladies, who smile up at you, and take Hanayo by the shoulder to guide her through the mass of people.

When you emerge on the other side of the street—you question it momentarily before deciding to leave it well enough alone—you note, “I could hardly see you in that crowd.”

“I-I have a knack for spotting people,” Hanayo chuckles sheepishly. “T-thank you for saving me!” She beams up at you.

“It was nothing,” you murmur (hoping your face isn’t beet red).

“But it is!” Hanayo insists with startling—perhaps even a bit flattering—vigor.

You are bad with compliments, so all you can manage in response to Hanayo’s kind words is a rueful (and probably awkward) smile.

She continues, “You’re always helping us, Umi, from physical training in µ’s to tutoring me and Rin to helping us out completely outside of school and idol practice! I—” Hanayo blushes—“I really admire that about you. It’s… it’s sort of my goal to become someone reliable like you,” she ends in a near-whisper that you strain to hear.

At this point, you’re quite certain your face is aflame.

“You give me too much credit, Hanayo, really,” you say, partly because Hanayo is giving you too much credit for such a minor thing, and partly because…

Honoka likes to praise you like this, too, whenever you let her. Well, Honoka likes to sing everyone’s praises, so it’s not so important—but. Every time… you can’t help but feel a bit… false, undeserving of such acclaim.

“No,” you murmur, casting your eyes back to the bustling crowd, wishing for the anonymity found there, “I am not someone to admire.”

“Why not?”

“Huh?” You furrow your forehead in confusion; you hadn’t expected to be questioned.

Hanayo repeats, her eyes regarding you with both curiosity and concern, “Why not? You are someone to respect and admire, Umi. Everyone knows that.”

You want to tell Hanayo that you don’t deserve any of it. How could you, when you can’t even properly help Honoka?

“Maybe I’m just too modest,” you chuckle weakly. You want to get away from this unexpectedly probing conversation. You need to keep your shields intact for what’s to come.

Hanayo laughs, as well, though her laughter is genuine.

She believes your excuse, and you nearly sigh in relief.

Unfortunately, Hanayo then moves the conversation to wonder at why you’re in the middle of the shopping district instead of at afterschool archery practice—what was that saying? Out of the frying pot and into the fire?

“Honoka said you would be a while and that you told her not to wait for you, so she went with Kotori to Akihabara,” she says, not quite a question but approaching it.

“Listen—I—it’s been nice seeing you, Hanayo,” you say even as you begin to edge away, towards the crowd, “but I just remembered—I have to go.”

You flee, because you don’t want to see this through.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a sec, nya?” Rin accosts you just as you head out to lunch.

“We’ll save you a spot by the tree, Umi!” Kotori calls back over her shoulder as she and Honoka abandon you to your death. Honoka even briefly turns to give you an enthusiastic wave—does she not see the desperate plea scrawled on your face?

No, of course she doesn’t, so you reluctantly turn to face Rin, who reclines against the wall across the classroom doors.

Rin wears an uncharacteristically troubled frown; you steel yourself lest that troubled frown turn into a true scowl of anger. You should have seen this coming.

“How can I help you, Rin?” you ask, because perhaps this is merely a case of one of your underclassmen seeking an upperclassman’s help on something.

“I talked to Kayochin,” Rin says and crushes your hopes, “she told me ‘bout what happened afterschool yesterday, you see. She was really upset, nya.”

You close your eyes.

Guilt, your stalwart companion, wells up in the back of your throat. You hadn’t thought that Hanayo would take it so harshly—ah, but you remember her shining eyes when she told you how much she admires you, and then you abandoned her with such a flimsy excuse.

So you bow, tucking your chin into your chest, “I sincerely apologize, Rin, for behaving so disrespectfully towards Hanayo. I will find her at once to apologize to her, as well.”

“Uh, thanks… but that’s not what I’m talking about, nya!”

As you straighten, you frown—what else is there to talk about in regards to what happened yesterday? How is this not important?

Rin levels you with her own disbelieving look.

“We’re worried about you, me and Kayochin,” she tells you with the utmost seriousness.

“T-thank you for your concern…?” You intended it as a statement of gratitude, but your bewilderment leaks through. You hasten to add, “I’m quite fine, however.”

“Nope!” Rin shakes her head adamantly.

Frowning, you echo, “No?”

“Nope!” she repeats. “Something’s on your mind, Umi, and we can tell it’s really bothering you, nya. Why don’t you want to talk about it?”

It is true that you have had something on your mind—several things, in fact, as of yesterday’s encounter with Hanayo—only you don’t think it’s anything serious. Not as serious as Rin makes it out to be, at least.

“I’m afraid—”

“C’mon, nya! I know where to go!” Rin takes you by the arm, and thusly you find yourself dragged down the corridor, down the stairs, before you can utter even a shout of surprise or a word of protest.

Rin drags you to—to Kotori and Honoka.

Though, not exactly. Rin’s grip keeps you locked in place, dozens of feet away from the tree where Honoka and Kotori are eating lunch; they cannot see you from your vantage point by the school doors but still your heart trembles.

“Listen up, Umi, ‘cause this is important,” Rin sternly instructs you. “Hanayo and me have been friends since we were kids, nya?”

You nod despite not at all understanding Rin’s line of thought.

“I rely on her a lot. She’s the first person I go to—whenever I can bring myself to talk,” and Rin chuckles wryly. It is somehow unsettling, seeing such an expression on Rin. “I mean, I get it, nya. You don’t wanna say it out loud, ‘cause that makes it too real. It hurts so much and you just… you just don’t want to make yourself hurt even more.

“But see them, there?” Rin points to Kotori and Honoka, who are in the midst of laughing at something.

There is clearly something you have missed here. You cannot fathom why Rin is so serious, so unyielding in this.

So you look to Kotori and Honoka, as if they can give you the answers to questions you haven’t even formed yet.

You find yourself staring at them: Kotori’s genuinely delighted smile and Honoka’s relaxed posture and the easy coexistence between them.

Inexplicably, your breath catches in your throat and you think—you love them both so, so much that it is almost a physical pain in your sternum.

“Honoka and Kotori are your friends. It’d mean a lot to them if you just tried. You don’t even have to say anything, s’long as they know you’re reaching out, nya!”

“Thank you, Rin,” you say almost automatically.

As you turn away from the sight of your best friends, you murmur, “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“—zoning out!”

“P-pardon?” you ask as you jerk back into the present, where Maki looks a hair’s breadth away from launching into a stern lecture about wasting her time because—

Ah, that’s right. The two of you are supposed to be working on the upcoming song for μ’s. You are in the music room, and everyone else has gone home.

“I said, stop zoning out,” Maki repeats with a dangerous frown. “Geez, what’s gotten into you? You’re never this distracted.”

The beginnings of a blush creep up your neck; you mumble, “Nothing.”

Maki scoffs.

In the back of your mind, you remotely note that Maki could really give Nico a run for her money as the grumpiest in µ’s.

“Say,” and the abrupt hesitance in Maki’s voice makes you turn to her, “would you happen to know anything about why Honoka’s been….” Maki hunches over the piano, though it’s barely effective in hiding her blush. She mutters, a trace of forlorn wonder in her tone, “She’s been distracted, too.”

The grumpiest, but with a heart of gold.

“I’m afraid she hasn’t said anything to me.”

Maki gives you a doubtful squint—you must admit, it is odd being on the receiving end of suspicion. What a peculiar sensation.

“Are you sure?” she presses.

Oh. It looks like Maki is being protective of Honoka. When did that happen? People rarely dive into Honoka’s mind, believing that the shallow waters near the shore are all that pertain to Honoka’s nature.

That is, after all, what you did… at first; of course, you understand Honoka much better now—don’t you?

“I am… not sure,” you admit. You voice this concern for the first time since Nico set the ball rolling.

“Why?” There is only hostility in Maki’s voice, but you are glad. Glad that Honoka has made such a loyal friend—someone who will defend her and protect her and understand.

Unlike you.

You have taken Honoka for granted, haven’t you? You have let yourself fall into a rut—you are hurting Honoka.

Becoming friends with Honoka was a mistake. You have shown, time and time again, that you would rather mold Honoka into your own image rather than accept Honoka as she is, haven’t you?

“I—” your voice cracks. Your cheeks burn red as you clear your throat, but you need to say something. “I am glad you are Honoka’s friend, Maki. She needs someone like you.” This, this is why you aren’t someone to look up to.

You shouldn’t be a role model when all you’ve done is turn a blind eye to the person you claim to love.

“H-hey, now,” Maki stands as you walk to the door, “I didn’t mean—”

“Perhaps,” you find yourself murmuring, explaining, “let us say that someone felt they owed a great debt. Perhaps this person also realized that their savior… is nothing more than a regular person. Perhaps, these two facts have troubled her for—years, let us say, so long that it has become….

“And, above all, perhaps this person never bothered to talk to their friend.” You shrug, your hand on the doorknob.

Maki calls after you, “She’ll understand when you do talk to her.”

You’ve been thinking this entire time, but you’ve been looking in the wrong direction, and maybe Maki has a point: it’s high time you talked.

“We’re all worried, Umi,” Kotori says; she huddles beside you, the bed shifting from her weight, and you tighten your hold on your knees.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I’m no good with this.”

Her hand tugs at yours. You let her.

“Nozomi and Eli asked me about Honoka—and about you, too, you know.”

You sigh, “I hope you gave them a better answer than I did.”

Kotori shrugs, her shoulder brushing against your own.

Your eyes find a framed photo on Kotori’s bedside table: the three of you, small children, holding hands with Honoka front and center.

Honoka has always been your center.

“It’s… it’s weird, isn’t it, having friends who want to understand?”

“Yes.”

“First it was just me and Honoka—our mothers were friends, so naturally we were, too, from the very beginning. I don’t think,” Kotori pauses to hum thoughtfully. She shakes her head, “No, I don’t think it was obvious at that time that Honoka was different. It was after we met you that I saw it.”

You recall, being six years old and being yelled at for something Honoka had done—you remember the confusion scrawled on Honoka’s face, and the tears that had resulted afterwards, when you snapped at Honoka in return. You hadn’t liked getting in trouble when you weren’t even the one at fault.

You were… angry, at first. Angry that Honoka kept pretending to not understand, angry that Kotori didn’t see anything wrong with it, and angry that your new friends (your only friends) weren’t as perfect as you’d thought.

But then Mrs. Kousaka had taken you aside to explain; you no longer remember what it was that she’d said, but you do remember your disappointment.

That is what has stayed with you all this time: disappointment because the person you admire doesn’t even exist.

“Rin said something odd,” you say. Kotori tightens her grip on your hand, almost to the point of painfulness. “Prior to that, however, Nico asked a question—one I never would have asked on my own.

“It… bothers me.” It lingers under your skin, like some sort of persistent feeling of having forgotten something.

Or—of having overlooked something.

Softly, Kotori asks, “What did she ask?”

Here, you have to pause. It strikes you how it truly is peculiar to be discussing this. For so long, it had been only the three of you. Now—now you have all of µ’s, an impetus to confront old wounds.

“What does Honoka think of herself?”

This is what you have overlooked. This is what the rest of µ’s has seen that you, Umi Sonoda, could not because you were too close and too far away.

Kotori sighs heavily, maybe even guiltily.

“Isn’t it obvious, Umi?” she whispers.

All this time that you spent trying to change Honoka—trying to fix her, as if she were broken, just because you needed someone to hold your hand. It is obvious, now, that you have hurt Honoka in the process.

You disregarded her feelings entirely in favor of your own.

“But I had good intentions, didn’t I?”

Once you had gotten over the shock of your disappointment, hadn’t you done your best to help Honoka? You haven’t been trying to change or fix her. You just want to make things easier—

For yourself.

“Umi,” Kotori says your name with years’ worth of memories and weight, “good intentions aren’t everything.”

“So it is,” you whisper.

It’s something you know from experience, from Honoka’s good intentions and bad failures.

It’s not as simple as you had made it out to be.

But now you have all the pieces of the puzzle; now you know what to do with them. You’re not floundering anymore.

Taking a deep breath, you turn to face Kotori directly and pull your hand away from hers. You look into her eyes and say, “Thank you. Will you do me one more favor, Kotori? There is something I must do.”

“Anything, Umi,” she smiles.

“I need to talk to Honoka tomorrow—alone.”

“I have something to say.”

Honoka meets your eyes across the desk—determined and grave.

Wait, you want to say. You want to interrupt her, to apologize first, because it’s not Honoka’s fault at all and you need to tell her before she spends even another second hating herself—

But as your knuckles whiten on the edge of the desk, you can’t bring yourself to take this moment away from Honoka.

“I’m going to be student council president,” she tells you, completely taking you by surprise, “I know I won’t be the best at it, and I’ll slack off, and I’ll make mistakes, and I’ll depend on you guys a lot, but—but I’m going to prove that I can do it.”

This is where it culminates: it’s ‘you can’t protect Honoka from the world forever’ and ‘you are someone to respect’ and ‘Honoka and Kotori are your friends.’

“I’ve—I’ve got lots of things that my friends gave me, you see, and, and I want to put them to good use!”

Honoka’s blue eyes blaze with that determination you cherish so much.

You see it now, that Honoka’s her own person regardless of what you and what the rest of the world think.

She smiles—wry—just as unsettling as Rin’s expression had been, if not more so because this is: Honoka, your hero.

This is the person who rescued you from yourself. This is who Honoka Kousaka is.

“It’s worth the effort,” she says. “There are parts of me that don’t fit in,” her face reddens, “but you’re my friend, Umi. That means something—right?”

Your heart breaks at the squeak of insecurity in that last word.

For all that you’ve fiercely tried to protect Honoka from teachers, from schoolyard bullies, from her own mistakes—you have failed to protect Honoka from yourself. You have made Honoka feel… inferior to you, because you made it seem like you didn’t like her.

Which, well, is true to an extent. You were a little kid in need of a role model. Honoka seemed like she would be the one, until you realized that she was a far cry from your imagination’s impression, and you simply couldn’t reconcile that fact with your childish hopes.

And Honoka has suffered quietly.

“It does,” you agree. You can’t convey the entirety of Honoka’s importance to you in those two words, but you hope she hears the weight in your voice.

That thought makes you smile—you know full well that Honoka will overlook it.

“U-Umi—”

“I’m so, so sorry I didn’t realize how you felt, Honoka,” you croak. “It was never my intention to make you feel inferior to me, to everyone else.”

No, that wasn’t your intention.

What will you tell Honoka?

“I only wanted to make things easier for you—that’s why I’ve been so harsh. I’ve only ever wanted to help you, even when it got frustrating. I shouldn’t have taken your attitude for granted, however. That is truly an unforgivable error on my part, Honoka.”

You could elaborate on what you mean by ‘when it got frustrating.’ You could tell her how your drive to make it easier on her was partly fueled by your own disappointment. You could tell her how you struggled to accept her.

You do not. It is unnecessary here.

She closes her eyes.

You wipe the tears from your eyes as you stand. Your friend needs you just as much as you need her, and for the first time since you met disappointment, you are certain that this is what you need.

“I thought you were trying to change me,” she whispers, her voice wobbling.

What matters is that Honoka is perfect as she is. You don’t need her to be this larger-than-life figure. She’s already extraordinary in her own right, unchanged from the moment she pulled you from behind that tree when you were children.

“No,” you sigh, kneeling beside her. “And I thought you didn’t care.” You made the mistake of thinking she didn’t mind your efforts to help her.

“No,” she echoes, hunching over to clutch at your hands. “I do care.” Her touch is almost desperate.

You have to smile, squeezing her hands in your own—regardless of your mistakes, and of the fact that Honoka might never understand, you are happy now.

The past will rest there, in your memories instead of in your every interaction with Honoka; you have finally, finally resolved the conundrum that has plagued your subconscious.

“Let us go,” you stand, pulling her up with you, “let’s tell Eli you’ve decided.”

You are happy, too, because Eli and the rest of µ’s are the friends that Honoka and you need.

For all of your flaws, you at least have this.

But then your arm goes taut when Honoka stops walking; you glance back at her, questioning, your heart skipping a beat because maybe you haven’t said enough.

“I’m not going to change,” she declares. “I’m going to learn, and maybe I’ll get better, but I’m not going to change.”

A feeling akin to coming home wells up in you when you reply, “I wouldn’t have you any other way, Honoka.”

That’s the only truth you need.

## Chapter 3: Kotori Minami

“Hey~ Kotori~ my most~ favorite~ person~ in the world~ after Kayochin~ and~ ramen~ nya!”

You giggle at Rin’s exaggerated greeting and equally exaggerated wink, which makes her giggle with you. “Hello to you, too, Rin,” you grin.

She plops down beside you, and you shuffle some of your drawings to the side so that they don’t get crumpled accidentally. She nods approvingly when she spots the wedding-themed set you’ve been working on lately; you expect her to comment on it, or to start talking about her latest adventure….

But several minutes pass and Rin sits silently beside you. She’s smiling quite happily… and her chatter is nonexistent.

Not that it’s a bad thing, necessarily.

It’s just… the silence becomes a bit… unnerving, the longer it goes on, sending a prickle of foreboding fear up your spine—a ridiculous reaction, though, because this is Rin! Why would you ever be afraid of Rin?

It’s the middle of the day, too. Broad daylight, plenty of students still at school, you’re waiting for Honoka and Umi to finish their student council duties—

“Say something!”

“What?!” Rin jerks back, her eyes wide and mouth gaping, and flustered guilt immediately wells up in your chest. “What’d I do?!”

Her reaction is so similar to Honoka’s that you forget what you were about to say. The words simply disappear.

But those are yellow eyes that stare at you in befuddlement, not blue.

“Sorry,” Rin mumbles when you fail to respond. She scratches at her ear, admitting with a sheepish grin, “I was trying to think of something, nya, but it’s hard doing these things on demand!” She scowls—not like Honoka, who would be pouting instead, turning helpless blue eyes toward you—

“No, I’m sorry,” you shake your head vigorously, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” Your shoulders droop in dejection, and, honestly, you kind of feel like becoming a puddle or something.

Rin nudges you with her elbow, saying, “Aw, c’mon, cheer up! Rin doesn’t mind getting yelled at.”

You wonder if it’s just you or if Rin’s statement really does sound a bit funny.

“O-oh, well, still….” It’s probably just you.

And with that, the clubroom falls into an unsettling silence again. Today’s not your day for conversation, is it?

“Where’s Hanayo?” you ask after an eternity, glancing to the door as if Hanayo will magically appear when you call her name. Hmm—magically, magical, magicians? You jot that down in the corner of the sketch closest to you; it might be an idea worth pursuing.

“Eh, somewhere ‘round, y’know, doing… stuff,” Rin hedges instead of giving you a straight answer, which strikes you as odd.

Your pencil stops mid-stroke.

For some reason, you remember: Rin said something odd.

Ah, that’s right, isn’t it? You put down your pencil and turn to Rin.

“Silly me,” you begin with a light chuckle. “I’ve completely forgotten to thank you, Rin!”

Her head tilts as she blinks at you, just like Honoka does whenever—

You explain, “For helping Honoka and Umi. I’m really, really thankful you helped knock some sense into them!” Because you didn’t know where to even begin helping them.

Rin laughs, boisterous and cheerful and not at all bashful.

It brings a smile out of you despite yourself.

“There we go, nya!” Rin smirks.

“W-what?” you blink, taken aback by her sudden pride.

“Nothing, nothing,” Rin shrugs, a too-innocent look on her face that rivals even Honoka’s. “Listen, I have to go now—” already? You glance at the clock—“but I’ll catch ya later, nya! Don’t lose your smile, Kotori!”

She’s gone before you can ask what that even means, but it really is starting to get late and you should be heading out, too; you hadn’t even noticed the time slip by, so preoccupied you were with Rin’s unusual silence.

Are Honoka and Umi still in the student council room?

“Sorry, Rin,” you whisper.

“Do you want to come over to my house, Kotori?”

You tear your eyes away from Honoka and Umi’s retreating backs to answer Hanayo; once you set your gaze on her pleading face, however, the no, thank you that was on the tip of your tongue changes into, “Sure!”

Hanayo lights up, the soft kind of joy that makes your heart ache with how genuine and modest it is.

Maybe it will do you some good to be with your friends, instead of sulking at home alone, now that Honoka and Kotori have gone to work on student council stuff.

“Bye, Kayochin and Kotori! Don’t lose your smile, nya!” Rin shouts, snagging a startled Maki on her way out the door.

You gaze curiously after them, wondering aloud, “Aren’t they coming with us?” It’s rare, after all, to see one of the first-years without the other two these days; they’ve formed something of a little group, just like—

“No,” Hanayo sighs a long-suffering sigh. “Maki promised to help Rin study for math.”

“Oh… okay.” You want to ask why that means Hanayo won’t go with them, but that would make it sound like you don’t want Hanayo’s company, which of course isn’t the case.

And so you find yourself walking down the staircase in pleasant silence with Hanayo.

It’s a nice change of pace.

Slow, quiet, and relaxed.

Voices up ahead murmur, waxing and waning, echoing in the silence of this afterschool hour. It’s not something you usually notice, since most of the time you’re caught up in Honoka’s expansive presence or in µ’s or even your own thoughts—it’s humbling, realizing that the students around you have their own lives that are only tangentially connected to yours.

“L-let’s go this way.”

“What? Why?” you ask, but Hanayo doesn’t answer, instead tugging at your arm with surprising force, redirecting you through a side corridor—you think you see a flash of blue and ginger and red.

Umi? Honoka? Maki?

No, it’s probably just you and your wistful thoughts, imagining things; Honoka and Umi are knee-deep in student council work right now, and by now Maki must be wrangling Rin into studying.

And you…

“This way, Kotori,” Hanayo murmurs as she takes a left outside the school gates.

“Mm.”

You are walking to Hanayo’s house.

For once, you hear snippets of others’ conversations, ahead and behind you.

For once, you notice the cars passing by and the people brushing past.

For once, you can pause to admire the sky’s soft blues and wispy whites without being left behind.

Hanayo doesn’t make conversation, nor do you; it’s not uncomfortable, like it was with Rin the other day, but it still makes you blink. There’s nothing wrong about the silence, just—well, maybe you’re not used to it.

Your gaze wanders, from the cars to the people to the sky, and a question whispers: why is it so uncomfortable, even though it’s not?

Then, you find yourself at Hanayo’s house—a modest house—greeting Hanayo’s mother and settling down in Hanayo’s bedroom.

Posters of idol groups share wall space with blown-up pictures of rice dishes.

It makes you smile.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Hanayo gently asks, setting down a tray of tea and rice cakes, breaking the silence between you and reminding you that, as understanding as Hanayo is, you shouldn’t spend your entire time here with your head lost in the clouds.

“Hmm,” you take a careful sip of tea, “my thoughts aren’t very exciting.” Your eyes crinkle in—amusement.

You are: soft, quiet, and slow. You, Kotori Minami, are boring. It is pretty funny, when you think about it.

“Don’t say that,” Hanayo’s warm hand settles on yours. “Being introverted isn’t bad. Just look at how well we fit in µ’s.”

Shrugging, you reply, “It doesn’t bother me. Hey, what do you think of a magic-themed photoshoot?”

Hanayo yields.

Part of you is glad… and part of you isn’t.

“Hello, Kotori,” Eli steps up as you leave the café at the end of your shift.

“Oh, hi, Eli!” You glance around, wondering where everyone else is.

As if reading your mind, Eli says, “It is only the two of us this fine Saturday afternoon,” and the polish in her voice makes you smile, bringing to mind Umi’s ultra-formal tone. “I was hoping, Kotori, that you would do me the favor of accompanying me on an outing—not here in Akihabara, of course,” she adds with a meaningful nod to the café you just left.

So f0rmal, so much like Umi.

“For both our sakes, Eli,” you laugh, “I don’t think I can accept the offer.” It’s not that you don’t want to go, no, but you have to think of Nozomi and Umi’s feelings—you don’t want to cause any sort of misunderstanding.

Eli’s face goes blank for a moment; you can pinpoint the exact moment she understands because her entire face goes red so quickly that it rivals even Umi’s intense blushes.

“Not as a date,” Eli hastens to correct with a rueful chuckle. “No,” she smiles softly at you, making you blink, “I simply want to enjoy the day with a dear friend.”

The sentiment you hear in Eli’s voice, in Eli’s smile, brings you up short: it’s not Umi standing in front of you, spluttering incoherently and on the brink of passing out. It’s Eli who stands in front of you, retaining her cool confidence despite being flustered.

Why would it be Umi, anyway?

“As for our respective partners, they already know,” she adds.

“Well, you came all the way here,” you sigh, your lips twitching in the beginnings of a pleased smile despite yourself.

“You can say no, Kotori, if you want.”

Just like that, your smile drops.

Umi does occasionally berate you for being unable to say no to Honoka, and you know that it goes beyond just giving in to Honoka’s whims.

Shaking your head, you say, “Nonsense, Eli! I don’t mind spending time with you, really.”

Eli regards you with stern blue eyes—a peculiar mix of Honoka and Umi (but that’s a ridiculous thought, you know).

“Then,” she says at last, and your shoulders relax, “let us be off.”

Just like yesterday, there isn’t any further conversation between you and Eli, though that might be because the streets of Akihabara are significantly noisier than the streets by the school.

But, still, the emptiness gnaws at you.

“Here we are,” Eli finally motions to a café just up ahead, “although the parfaits you make are good, I must say that the ones here are the best.” Eli grins, genuine and quietly teasing.

You can’t help but giggle, especially once Eli puffs up in clearly exaggerated pride for this café. After that, both of you start laughing, loud and carefree.

“Oh, Eli,” you wheeze once your laughter tapers, wiping a few tears from the corners of your eyes, “I feel like I haven’t laughed like that in a while.”

Wait.

That’s not what you meant to say. You meant to—to—

“Kotori,” Eli holds the café door open for you, her gaze stern again.

You hope she lets the matter drop, but when you take the seat across from her at a side table by the windows, she idly flips through the menu as she begins:

“Nozomi and I come here often.”

You make a weak attempt to skim through the options, too, but your hands tremble.

“I… wouldn’t want to intrude,” you say, unable to think of anything else except that you shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be burdening Eli like this, shouldn’t—

“Nonsense, Kotori,” Eli uses your response against you. “Nozomi and I don’t mind at all. I would gladly enrichen my associations of this place with memories of you.”

She is stern, as unrelenting as Umi and just as concerned for you.

“Please,” you whisper—you beg.

This isn’t what you want; you simply can’t do this.

Eli softens but the lines on her face don’t leave. She tells you, “Kotori, you will have to make a stand, sooner or later. You have to make an effort.”

“Oi,” Nico’s crossed arms and bored look stop you outside your classroom, “I was thinking it’s high time I taught you some better sewing skills.”

Bewildered, you glance to Honoka and Umi for help—except, when you turn to them, Honoka’s nodding sagely and Umi is very pointedly looking away.

“I don’t—”

“You’re turning down the great Nico Nico Nii?” she glowers, and you blanch at the unintended reminder that Nico, despite being the most brash of your upperclassmen, is actually very sensitive to perceived rejection.

What if this is her way of saying she’s lonely? You can’t, in good conscience, walk away from that, even if you want—

Honoka chooses this moment to cheerfully announce, “I think it’s a great idea, Kotori! It can’t hurt, right?” Her guileless blue eyes regard you, as if it’s not even a question that you’ll join Nico for lunch.

“Quite so,” Umi adds, though she still doesn’t look at you. “Moreover, I had intended to have Honoka get through some student council work this lunch period, and I wouldn’t want to bore you, Kotori,” she says over Honoka’s pouting protests.

Resolutely ignoring the sudden lump in your throat, you smile and nod in acquiescence.

You are left in the hallway in front of your classroom, watching Honoka and Umi’s retreating backs for the millionth time in the past few weeks.

“Geez, you three are so troublesome, so melodramatic.”

Coming from Nico, that must be saying something, but, “Why?”

Although Umi mentioned that µ’s had given her that push necessary, both she and Honoka haven’t really explained what had happened.

Being in the dark, like this, makes you… feel left out.

“Do I have to spell it out?” Nico asks, shoving the door open.

The clubroom is empty, as it always is at lunch; no wonder Nico sought you out: despite being a single group, µ’s is very much fractured in previously-existing friendships when it comes to non-club-related activities, which therefore leaves Nico all along here, day after day.

No, you don’t need her to spell it out for you, because now you know firsthand what it’s like to be simultaneously included and excluded.

But, again, Nico sighs—with real frustration in her tone when she grumbles, “Yes, it looks like you Nico Nico need guidance, or else you’ll be going around with that lost-puppy look that not even Honoka uses.”

“Please don’t say that about Honoka,” you say; you might not be Umi, a knight in shining armor, but you are Honoka’s friend and you’re not going to let anyone talk about Honoka as if she’s some nuisance.

“Oh, look, the bird pecks,” Nico remarks, her eyebrows going up. There’s no malice, but there is a challenge in Nico’s crossed arms and jutting chin.

It sets off a warning bell in your head.

There’s something going on here, between Honoka’s back and Umi’s lack of eye contact and Rin’s uncharacteristic silence and Hanayo’s quiet reassurance and Eli’s relentlessness.

But you know you’re not strong enough to do this without Honoka.

“So, about the sewing,” you inelegantly change the topic, “I had an idea for a costume set, but it’ll take a while, so I was wondering if you could….”

Nico is shaking her head, back and forth, and it’s clear that she’s not going to let this go.

But you try anyway, imploring, “Please, Nico.”

“I’m not a soft touch like Eli and Hanayo,” Nico says, painfully blunt, “and it looks like no one else is going to make you make a decision, so I’m here to tell you that you have to, whether you like it or not.”

You take one step back.

And another when Nico tilts her head, looking at you in exasperation.

You, Kotori Minami, are a coward.

“Oi, get back here!”

“The point is to cheer her up, not upset her further! She literally ran away—”

Your feet drag to a halt outside the rooftop.

“—Look, I’m just saying that she needs—”

“—But she doesn’t want—”

You know, deep in your heart, that you don’t want them to fight, so you step onto the rooftop, brushing aside the prickle of fear at being proven right, and put on your best smile.

This is for your friends. You could have gone home right after school, but you’re not going to abandon µ’s so easily. You need to see it through.

“Hey, everyone!”

Everyone freezes; it’s kind of funny, how horrified their expressions are, everyone wondering how much you heard.

“Kotori,” Nico grits; you feel bad for running away, but you’ll apologize later.

“Well,” Eli cuts in, “that’s everyone, so let’s get practice started.”

That makes you frown, “But Honoka and Umi aren’t here yet.”

“Umi and Honoka have a meeting with the school chairperson,” Nozomi says with an apologetic smile.

Of course—your mother didn’t tell you, nor did Honoka and Umi, but it’s not a surprise.

“Do mind partnering up with me today?”

You blink, finding Maki twirling her hair in front of you, her gaze pointed away from you.

Somehow, her obvious awkwardness makes it easier for you to relax and give her a genuine smile as you say, “Of course not, Maki!”

Over Maki’s shoulder, you see Eli shake her head at Nico.

But you return your focus to Maki, whose endearingly stiff mannerisms are much, much safer, and you ask, to stave off questions, “How’s Rin doing in math?”

“What?” Maki looks at you blankly.

It’s then that you remember catching a glimpse of Maki when she had supposedly gone home with Rin—another piece of evidence.

“Well, I mean,” you shrug, rolling your neck to seem casual and absolutely not affected, “I remember Honoka and I had some trouble with this lesson last year.” Actually, you don’t know what lesson the first years are on, but you do know that you want to keep things safe.

“Oh?” Maki can’t conceal her obvious interest. “It often seems that Honoka is the only one….”

Giggling a bit at Maki’s stubborn blush, you shake your head. After all, it is true that you and Honoka are both kind of bad at math.

The difference is that you are better at self-study, whereas Honoka needs a little help to get started (and to keep going)—though, Umi has teared her hair out over you before, sometimes.

You sigh.

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Ever since they joined the student council.

“What was Umi like, as a child?” Maki hoists you over her back as she asks.

Your breath hitches in your throat—whether because of the abrupt exercise or the abrupt question, you’re not sure.

The first memory—or maybe memories that have blurred into one—is of Umi’s scared amber eyes peeking at you and Honoka from behind a tree. Even after the three of you became friends, Umi had a habit of hiding behind trees or any other convenient thing.

But, you know, “Umi’s always been brave.”

Maki sets you down to switch roles.

“And Honoka?”

Again, your breath leaves your lungs.

You don’t have any definitive first memories of Honoka. She’s… always been there for you.

Except, she’s not here. Neither of them are.

And then you feel guilty: you have friends here. Why aren’t they enough for you?

“Kotori?”

“Oh!” you startle, nearly drop Maki. “Sorry, sorry—I just—I—”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Maki mutters, rolling her shoulders. “I’m sorry for asking.”

You shake your head; you understand her frustration. “It doesn’t bother me, honest. It’s just….”

Just what?

It’s weird, isn’t it, having friends who want to understand?

“It’s weird,” you admit, meeting Maki’s uncertain gaze, “to have friends.” You take a deep breath. “Honoka’s always been with me, and now that she’s not, it… it makes me realize that I—I’ve relied too much on her and Umi.

“And it’s hard to deepen my friendships with you all.”

“Don’t give up,” Maki pleads.

“I won’t bite,” Nozomi laughs, slowing her pace even further to match yours and giving you a look that says she knows about your inner turmoil.

You laugh, too, because you just can’t help it. The knot of tension in your sternum has kept you on edge for longer than you want to admit, and maybe it’s time you let down your guard—your façade, even if you try really hard not to admit it.

But you can’t deny the truth for long.

Up ahead, Umi is scolding Honoka for something; they haven’t even noticed you falling behind.

Frankly? It hurts.

“It’s such a beautiful morning, isn’t it?” you ask, tilting your head back to blink at the clouds.

Soft blue and wispy white and the yellow glow of full morning.

When you return your gaze back front, you make eye contact with Umi: her amber gaze settles on you for a brief moment before it slides back to Honoka.

They know who they are, and you… you don’t have anything to show for your efforts.

Nozomi shakes her head, and her voice is gentle when she tells you, “All the energy you spend simply trying, Kotori, is just as valuable as the end result,” but it still feels like someone’s crushing your heart in their fist.

Why can’t they, your troubled thoughts, just leave you alone?

But you don’t want to be alone—the thought of falling behind frightens you.

“Change,” Nozomi sighs, a soft sound that’s wistful and pained and loving, somehow all at once. She nods, “It can cause quite a stir sometimes, can’t it?”

Isn’t that why you invented Minalinsky? To not be lonely, to be brave, to try harder—to be able to live on your own, without Honoka and Umi holding you up. To cope with change.

Only, well, Minalinsky isn’t supposed to exist outside of the café. You’re not supposed to need her in your everyday life, in every single moment.

“Kotori,” a hand settles on your shoulder, warm and firm and your legs twitch in that old habit of wanting to run away, “Please don’t run away.”

Your knees knock against each other; you stumble, but Nozomi tightens her grip on your shoulder: the guidance you rely on so much yet also resent.

Nozomi might not bite, but you know without a doubt that her words will linger on the edges of your thoughts, just like everyone else’s words have. You don’t want to face it. You don’t want to, because the moment you do, you’ll be faced with everything that hurts.

You are a mess of tangled yarn.

All it takes is one tug in the right place and you will unravel. Nozomi is just the person to discover which of the threads to pull.

Considering how jumbled your thoughts are, however, maybe any thread will work to disintegrate your already-frayed nerves.

“You know, we’re all similar in a certain respect.”

At that, you blink, frowning quizzically. You’re pretty sure that µ’s doesn’t have group-wide similarities—with nine people, it’s not very likely that you’d find something you all have in common.

Giving you a smirk, Nozomi says, “You have to look for it, since it’s not something you usually think about. But, yes, everyone in µ’s has this problem:

“We’re bad at communicating—about ourselves, with our friends, when it matters most.” Nozomi laughs, wry, her hand slipping from your shoulder. She adds, closing her eyes, “Look at how badly we’ve gone about this.”

This.

Look at how badly we’ve gone about this.

She’s talking about everything from Rin to herself, to all the little out-of-the-ordinary happenings that you’ve ignored and all the little hurts that have accumulated in the past few weeks that you aren’t ignoring very well.

You can’t run away forever.

“I promise,” you whisper, “I’ll talk to them.”

“When?” Nozomi asks, still gentle.

“Soon.”

“Kotori, do you want to have a sleepover at my house tonight?”

Your hands fumble with your notebooks, nearly dropping them as you gaze wide-eyed at Honoka and her unexpected offer.

You want to say yes so badly—

“But your student council work….” You hate to suggest that Honoka leave you again, but you know that Umi will get mad at Honoka otherwise, and you know how much it hurts Honoka to be scolded so much. It must be especially hard on her now that you’re not around to keep Umi from going overboard.

Only, Umi materializes beside Honoka, murmuring, “A day’s break will not hurt.”

At that, your mouth drops, just a bit.

“See? It’s okay!” Honoka insists, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Will you join us, Kotori? Pretty please?”

“Us?” You look to Umi, who is determinedly keeping her eyes on a point somewhere past your shoulder; it’s not reassuring… but you can’t say no to Honoka.

You can say no, Kotori, if you want.

You have to, whether you like it or not.

When?

It’s now or never—if you don’t go today, you’ll ever be able to muster up the courage afterwards.

“Sure,” you smile. It’s a real smile, too, warmth blooming in your chest because you can always trust Honoka to be on your side.

Honoka beams, taking you by the hand to drag you out the classroom; you barely manage to grab your bag.

“Don’t manhandle Kotori like that!”

The warmth in your chest spreads to your fingertips: Umi still cares. She’s on your side, too, even when you’re on different pages.

But: you’re still fighting against your cold feet.

When you walk to Honoka’s house—so close to yours, yet so far away—all you can focus on is Honoka’s chatter, until Umi pulls you out of the way of someone on a skateboard.

“Careful,” Umi murmurs, her mouth quirking in a half-exasperated smile and her hand gentle around your elbow.

“T-thanks.”

Further up ahead, Honoka commands, “Hurry up, you guys!”

You do just that, hastily moving past Umi, a blush burning your cheeks. Umi might be your girlfriend, but the two of you have been strangers lately and it’s too awkward to linger.

Part of you begins to dread agreeing to this sleepover. What if the tension in your fingers bleeds into everything else, ruining the mood? What if the awkwardness that makes your tongue feel too big for your mouth gets in the way of your wish to be close to your friends?

Or what if you find out, definitively, that they no longer need you?

When Honoka leaves you and Umi in her room, you fear that the night will come crashing down before it’s even started.

Umi keeps not looking at you.

All you can do is tug at your skirt and glance hopelessly at the door, wishing Honoka would come back already to spare you from this awful silence.

It used to be—comfortable, safe, warm.

You used to enjoy being alone with Umi.

Everything was fine before they joined the student council. Maybe there had been a bit of strain between Honoka and Umi, maybe it had hurt to watch your two best friends hurt each other, but—but hadn’t that been better than this?

Guilt bubbles up in your stomach at the selfish, cruel thought.

“I’ve got snacks!”

“Manju?” Umi asks, perking up, and Honoka smiles an indulgent smile.

There’s… something wilting inside you.

Honoka rocks on her feet, playful; it’s then that you realize that she’s holding her hands behind her back.

“Nope!” Honoka shakes her head, “sorry, Umi.” She brings her hands forward, revealing—

“Ch-cheesecake?” you squeak. It’s a simple one, dotted with strawberries and whipped cream, but your mouth waters nonetheless.

Setting it down carefully on the low table, Honoka nods proudly, “I made it myself!”

“Oh, thank you!” you fling your arms around her the moment she sits next to you, burying your face in the crook of her neck.

It’s such a small thing.

“Eh?”

But it’s important, and after a moment Honoka’s arms come up to squeeze the life out of you; you almost start crying.

“You forgot plates and utensils, Honoka,” Umi sighs. “Wait a moment while I get them.”

There’s a few seconds of silence while you try to sort yourself out and Honoka simply keeps you in her arms.

“Hey, Kotori?” Honoka’s voice prods, cautious, like she always is when she becomes aware of how obliviously tactless she can be.

For all of your pain, you don’t mind this part of Honoka’s personality. It’s just the way your best friend has always been.

So you pull back, smiling encouragingly at her as best as you can.

Her eyebrows are furrowed and her mouth is pulled into a troubled frown.

You wait for her to gather her thoughts—you’ll always wait, for as long as it takes.

“I’m sorry,” Honoka mumbles at last.

Just like that, your breath hitches in your throat—and Umi comes back.

You retreat into yourself.

Umi is meticulous as she cuts the cheesecake into even slices; maybe you’re being overdramatic, but it’s like that plastic knife is cutting into you.

You three are so troublesome, so melodramatic. Maybe Nico is right.

Honoka starts fidgeting with her fork and napkin, clearly impatient for Umi to finish distributing the cheesecake.

Well, Honoka’s not one to beat around the bush or to wallow in silence—not when it comes to you and Umi. She’s brave, and Umi’s brave, and you are not.

You don’t want to be a coward.

Being introverted isn’t so bad. It’s not just being introverted, though.

You have to make an effort.

Don’t give up.

Can you take that step? Can you step out of your comfort zone?

Are you, Kotori Minami, capable of accepting change?

Your friends are.

“I—” your voice cracks.

Umi and Honoka look at you. There’s guilt in Umi’s eyes and there’s pain in Honoka’s mouth; it’s like Nozomi said—you’re all bad at communication.

So, that means that it’s okay for you to learn now, right?

“I felt jealous—” Umi exhales sharply when you say that—“and lonely and abandoned and I don’t know, I just… I miss you.”

“I know,” is Umi’s response.

Honoka bows her head, whispering, “I’m sorry, Kotori. I didn’t notice.”

And while you can’t blame Honoka for not noticing, you don’t know what to make of Umi’s answer; it hurts.

“But,” and here, Honoka seizes your hands, “that’s why—that’s why we, me and Umi, tried to show you that we’re all your friends, Kotori!”

“We missed the mark, quite badly,” Umi admits, closing her eyes. “We meant to reassure you by demonstrating that you had more than us.”

You take a deep breath.

“Is that why…?”

Honoka tilts her head, explaining, “We asked the others to help out! But—” her shoulders droop—“that didn’t work out, did it? We should’ve… should’ve explained, right? That’s why you were still sad, right?”

You exhale, shaking, wanting to pull your hands away from Honoka’s.

“We weren’t sure how to go about it,” Umi sighs; she faces you, solemn and earnest. She says, “At first, when I realized how you felt….” She frowns.

“Tell us how you felt, Kotori,” Honoka asks, pleads with her entire body in the motion. “Yukiho says that’s the easiest way to fix things!” Her eyes blaze—she’s pulling you forward, into the unknown, and Umi wavers to the side.

Just as they always have.

You need to make an effort. It’s just like you’ve always done in the past—nothing new.

“I was jealous,” you repeat. You watch Umi stand, you watch her until she settles on your other side, a few inches away. You confess, softly, “I was jealous of both of you. I wanted to have you both to myself… I felt so left out….”

There’s an accusation on the tip of your tongue: hurtful words that you have never, ever said.

Breathing deeply, you say instead, “I know you were trying to help—I mean, I know that now, but I was caught up in the fact that it hurt and the change was so sudden and neither of you had any time for me anymore.” You can’t help that your voice cracks and that tears start welling up. “I missed you so, so much.”

Honoka and Umi each take one of your hands, but Umi reminds you, “You are not alone without us, Kotori. That is what Rin, Hanayo, Eli, Nico, Maki, and Nozomi wanted to show you.”

“I know,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut.

Don’t give up—don’t give up on Honoka and Umi, don’t give up on µ’s.

“They’re all my friends. I let them down.”

“They understand,” Honoka says, solid against your side. “They’re your friends.”

You have to make a stand.

“I know,” you reply with a soft sigh, “but I’m going to do better.”

“As long as you keep smiling, Kotori,” Honoka declares, her arm coming up around your shoulders and Umi’s arm slipping around your waist, “We’re happy, too!”

Umi nods, pressing her lips to the side of your head, murmuring, “The three of us, and the nine of us. Together.”

Don’t lose your smile!

You smile, squished between Umi and Honoka.

“It looks like I owe everyone a thank-you.”

Because: you have Umi Sonoda and Honoka Kousaka and everyone in µ’s by your side.

“Also, please don’t get mad,” Honoka laughs nervously, “we asked your mom to let you join the student council and she said yes and now you have to stay after school with us to do lots and lots of paperwork.”

You blink.

“So the cheesecake is actually to soften her up?”

“N-no….”

You laugh, and they laugh with you.