Five Buns Full: Prelude (Patreon)

It was a game.

He remembered the rules. Five girls, five separate classrooms. The quintessential quintuplets were forcing him to choose, forcing him to give his answer tonight in the quiet high school.

He was only allowed to head towards one of the rooms. They were spread wide, surely so there could be no confusion with who he was choosing.

But, in the end, it was another game. Love, caring, devotion… twisted into something so trivial as a choosing game.

And Fuutarou Uesugi would not play this one.

He walked down each of the empty halls, his head locked forward, his footsteps heavy. He said nothing, was looking for nothing, but still… five shadows stuck out to him. Shades hidden behind opaque classroom windows. Each time, the shadow responded to the sound of his footfall. Some even reacted as scared as he felt.

But it was that hammering in his chest, that feeling of cold sweat, that tiny trickle of adrenaline that had Fuutarou know what he had to do. He cared about each of them. Deeply, wholeheartedly, cared.

And so he left the building, and began the long, silent, walk home.

Because it was a game.

And those girls did not deserve to be trivialized down to a game.

Not even if it was a game of their own. There would have been a winner, yes, but there would also be four losers. They weren’t prizes, nor was he. They… mattered. More than that.

But if he had chosen… who would it have been?

The question had him laying awake far into the night. On his crappy little futon, stiff on the ground, Fuutarou contemplated his decision. When he’d walked into the building, one of the options had stood out, yes. But the moment he had walked by the first room, had seen the first girls shadow, he had felt as if he’d swallowed his stomach.

However, this action had caused him to realize something. Fuutarou still could not choose. So he came up with an idea of his own.

******************************************************************************

Ichika Nanako had short red hair, far shorter than any of her sisters, and wore a pair of tired blue eyes that no thespian ability could veil, nor any amount of makeup truly conceal. The young actress blinked too much in front of the camera, delivering her lines in an uncaring tone, and hardly able to summon the look of terror as her character was impaled with serial killer’s long crooked hook.

Evidently, the bratty persona of the character made the sleepiness work, and Ichika was allowed to phone in her acting for another goofy B list movie, which mostly only wanted her there for her delightful good looks and a memorable early kill. She just wished they would film all of her parts as quickly as her character was eliminated. It took nearly four hours just to shoot the impalement scene.

Slender, soft, and succulently sexy, Ichika was dressed in a bright yellow top with blue denim shorts. The top was too tight, fitting her curvaceous body about as well as it might a child’s doll and causing her to become uncomfortably hot through the long scenic work. She also wore tiny hairclips on either side of her face, pointlessly pinning her short hair further back because the costume manager decided she needed to have something that would stand out more.

It was all so tiring, and given that she was only able to cure the lack of sleep and crying eyes in the house last night with a spot of underaged drinking, Ichika was in a sour mood by the time she was sent back to the victims’ communal trailer to go wash the fake blood off her cleavage.

She almost didn’t see Fuutarou, standing as still as a statue on the side of the trailer door with his arms behind his back like some kind of soldier. One who abandoned his duties and caused her sisters to cry.

Ichika sighed, coming to a rest before him, crossing her arms over her chest. “What?” she asked him through level eyes. “Did you choose now? It’s too late. I won’t accept anything you give after last night.” She tried to maintain an even tone, yet irritation flowed into it from her acerbic mood.

But something in his own expression, the black shadows beneath his eyes, the way he took a moment to swallow, to steady his breath before speaking, tugged at familiar strings inside of her chest. “N-no…” his head dipped. “I’m sorry to cause you so much pain.”

“H-hey,” Ichika stumbled, raising her hands towards him and taking a step forward. “It’s umm… it’s fine, really!” At the last moment, she withdrew her hands and made a shrugging motion. “You don’t have to look so sad, you know?”

The grief maintained.

“Do… you want to come inside?” Ichika asked after a moment of silence.

He nodded.

“Alright, come on,” she said, opening the door to the trailer and stepping in.

After tossing everything off of her messy couch, Ichika put Fuutarou up on it, his expression still as rough as coarse stone. His eyes were far away, the way Miku’s shyness sometimes forced her to shut down to keep from panic.

“Jeez…” she said, sitting down next to him. “You look like you’re taking this as hard as we did.”

He turned to her. “Shouldn’t I be?” he asked.

The question surprised her. “Um… well, I didn’t really think…”

His eyes went to his hands, squeezing one another tight in his lap. “I’m a part of all this, too,” he said. “Putting all of that pressure on me… it felt like you guys had forgotten that.”

“Oh…” was all Ichika could reply with. Her chest panged. She reached out, putting a hand on Fuutarou’s shoulder, but now she found herself unable to look into his eye. “I didn’t think of it that way. I don’t suppose any of us did… we were all freaking out about who you would choose.”

“This isn’t a game,” he replied. And suddenly she needed to look at him, to see his eyes, but they were staring straight ahead. 

Beneath the sadness she saw something that scared her. Flickers of anger. Of rage.

His hands tightened so harshly that his fingers cracked.

“I-it was Itsuki’s idea,” Ichika freely admitted.

He turned to her, looked into her with his bright brown eyes.

“She… she thought it would be the best way. To make you choose. That it’d be easiest. Yotsuba agreed and, without really thinking, the rest of us…” she trailed off. “I’m sorry.”

He said nothing for a moment, but his gaze turned pensive before nodding. “That sounds about right… she told me that she knew it would annoy me, but it’s such a big decision. It’s way beyond annoying.”

The pain in her chest was almost palpable. She reached out and lay a hand on his leg, offering silent support, unable to say anything more.

He didn’t react. Didn’t even seem to notice it. When he finally spoke, he did so with a faceless tone. “Ichika, what do you see when you look at me?”

She blinked. “Eh? Umm…” she looked him up and down. “Well, I see your body, of course.”

He closed his eyes. “Not what I meant…”

“Oh, well, I just sort of see you. You know? Fuutarou.” 

He breathed slowly, calmly, before nodding his head once.

Ichika blushed. “W-well, you’re umm, you’re handsome and you’ve got a… well, a…”

Very softly, he began to chuckle. He turned to her. “You’re bad at this.”

“Well what do you expect?!” Ichika pouted. “It’s like the first time I got you all by myself in weeks.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“You’re Fuutarou,” she tried to explain. “You’re smart, devoted, and yeah sometimes you mess up but you’re not exactly experienced with this stuff. It’s… kind of cute, seeing how flustered it can make you.”

“So, you see someone who’s kind of cute?” he asked.

Ichika shrugged. “Well, yeah, you’re very cute. Always the diligent student. It’s kind of weird seeing you without talking about school at all, being honest.”

He nodded to himself before placing his hand onto hers. She felt butterflies bubble inside of her belly until he lifted the hand from his thigh and made to stand up. “Thank you, Ichika. I’ve got to go and talk with the others.”

Ichika winced. “Still can’t choose, huh?”

“It’s not about that,” he shook his head. “I don’t think so, at least. It’s more about who’s chosen me. I think I’m in love with all of you.”

The girl swallowed. A brief pause followed before she stood up at his side. Reflexively, her hands clasped together and she pinched her chest between her arms. “I’ve chosen you…” she said, swaying from side to side.

His eyes went down to her neck, gracing her chest, and Ichika felt a flare of confidence. 

She had him.

“You’ve, uhhh,” he pointed at her body. “Got a little… blood, on you. It’s dripping.”

Ichika looked down, suddenly remembering herself. All at once she could feel the sweat of the hot exterior work on her brow, the dirt of the killer’s set on her clothing, and the dribbles of fake blood that stained her skin and bra. Her bright pink lips puckered as if she’d just eaten something sour. “God… damn it…” she muttered. “Yeah… I need to go shower.”

An idea occurred to her and she put her hands on her chest, leaning slightly forward. 

“Care to join me?” she asked teasingly with a devilish wink.

“No, thank you,” he replied. “I showered this morning.” He smiled pleasantly.

Ichika laughed. “You’ve gotten used to me already, eh? You’ve grown up so much, made big sister all proud.”

Fuutarou rolled his eyes and looked towards the door. “I should get going,” he said. “I’ve got to talk with the others, too.”

“Do you know where they are?” Ichika asked as he began to walk away.

“I think I’ll be able to find them.”

When he reached the door, a bolt of lightning struck Ichika. “Fuutarou, wait!” she called.

He paused.

Forcing herself to take a deep, even breath, she asked, “It isn’t me… is it?” already resigned to the answer.

To his credit, he didn’t try to mask the punch. “No,” he said.

Ichika took another breath and held it before nodding once, and he left the trailer.

******************************************************************************

Nino Nakano was nowhere to be found. 

She wasn’t at the reopened cake bakery, and nobody was at the quintuplets’ home. He tried to think of where else the social butterfly might be. Maybe she was out with her friends, or maybe she’d gone to a movie.

Regardless, there wasn’t much Fuutarou could do to track down the second of the Nakano quintuplets besides putting his faith in fate and wandering around town.

Fate, however, plays a game of her own.

Having decided to get lunch at the market nearby his house, Fuutarou sat down at an empty table in the food court with a bland tray of white rice and barbeque shrimp along with a bowl of miso soup.

Another tray was placed across from his and he looked up in surprise to see first a pair of tight black yoga pants, then a bright blue button-down sweater, and finally deep red hair laced around a pair of bright blue headphones.

Sleepy, quiet blue eyes stared back at him from the third Nakano’s face.

“Good afternoon, Fuutarou,” she said so quiet that it was nearly covered by the sound of the crowd. 

“M-Miku,” he muttered, still feeling the shock.

Without another word she sat in the seat and then stared, waiting for him to sit down as well.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Having lunch with you.”

He blinked and then rubbed at his eyes, but no he wasn’t imagining her. She smiled at him, a soft little grin that warmed his tired soul.

“Sit…”

He did as she asked. “I was hoping to run into you to-”

Miku held up her hand to silence him. Then she closed her eyes clapped hers together and said in her quiet voice, “Thanks for the food.” She held her hands together, waiting.

Fuutarou mimed the action. “T-thanks for the food,” he clapped.

Miku dropped her hands to her chopsticks and then began to eat.

******************************************************************************

‘You’re eating too fast,’ Miku Nakano thought to herself.

With this information, the third quint did absolutely nothing to change it.

She knew she was panicking, felt the crumbling tower upon which she stood in the light shifting beneath her ill-placed feet. But fate had delivered Fuutarou to her. She had to make it count.

A huge bite of yakitori disappeared down her gullet before she had a chance to even taste it. It was followed by another just as quickly, then a scoop of soy soaked fried rice, then her large carbonated soda, then-

“You know, I thought for a bit I was the only one freaking out…”

Miku looked up, chewing the equivalent of three normal-sized mouthfuls of food. Fuutarou was looking at her, his chopsticks resting on his still full plate. His smile didn’t reach his handsome eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Miku struggled to swallow, had to wash all the food down into her tummy with repeated gulps of soda. She felt the need to burp but put a cork on it, instead sighing into her hand. She forced steadiness into her voice. “Of course,” she said with her eyes closed. “Why would you need to ask?”

“Because you’ve eaten over a thousand yen’s worth of lunch so far, and it’s been about two minutes. You never eat this fast.”

Miku opened her mouth to respond, thought better of it, then closed it. She felt the creeping sensation of questioning herself crawling over her skin, rising up as if to consume her and bring her back down to the dark and quiet place.

She had no intention of returning.

“I didn’t eat breakfast,” she said truthfully. 

Fuutarou picked up his chopsticks, looking down at them rather than meeting her eyes. “Why not?”

A moment of hesitation, a drip of cold darkness. The truth. “Nino made pancakes for everyone this morning and…” even now, she hesitated. The truth. “Looking at them made me feel sick.”

He said nothing for several beats of Miku’s thudding heart. “Because that’s what you made for the school festival,” he nodded understanding.

For some reason, that understanding demeanor made her feel angry. She felt her lips tug down into a frown. “Because that’s what I made for our class, after you made me believe in myself.”

He looked up again and they locked eyes for breath before his vision retreated inward, and she saw that same darkness pulling on his shoulders. He opened his mouth.

“Don’t say sorry,” she interrupted.

“S-s-” He stammered at the same moment before silence.

She glared at him. “Don’t apologize for making me feel the way that I do.”

Miku felt firmness and comfort in the words. Action made her tighten her grip on the chopsticks and take another big chomp of freshly cooked chicken. The whole meal tasted exceptionally good.

She kept up the pace, focusing on the comfort of warm food in her tummy and the strength her own tone gave to her spine. “I am who I am because of you. I believe in myself because of you. That’s why I-”

“You’re wrong.”

The steel in his voice surprised her and she looked up. Barely contained anger glowed in his bright eyes.

“Don’t take that credit from yourself. You improved through your own actions, through study and hard work and practice.” He shook his head, looking at her with disgust. “That you would think anything else just shows why you agreed to Itsuki’s idiotic plan. You are not a token to be chosen.”

“I-Itsuki?” Miku asked.

He ignored her, continuing his rant. “That you would devalue yourself like this is so far beneath you now, Miku. I’ve gotten to where I am because of my own hard work. Would you say that’s not true?”

“No, that’s not what I-”

“Then why act as if that’s not the same of yourself?” he asked. 

Miku’s stomach felt like it was an empty pit. She placed her chopsticks down, unable to even look at her food now. Her hand was shaking. “I did it…” she froze, trying to find the words.

“Miku?”

She took in a deep breath and tightened her fist. The pillar beneath her rumbled. It shifted and cracked. “I did it because I love you…” she said.

Time passed. A minute… an hour… it felt like an eternity before he finally responded. “I know. And I think that…” he paused.

“What?” she asked.

He tapped his finger uncomfortably on his tray. “Miku, what do you see when you look at me?”

Her eyes fluttered. The small action seemed to have caught his attention and he was looking at her, looking into her, piercing her. 

This was fate’s moment.

She breathed, her eyes going to his chest, to his stomach, to his arms. “I see… your diligence. How hard you try. How hard you study and have made us study. I se-” her voice cracked and she swallowed before continuing. “I see a man who has made me want to be better. Like how you’re there for all of us. Helping us study, or with our own problems. And you went and checked out every book in the library, just so you could prove yourself to me. That you could be my tutor, even though you haven’t graduated or become a teacher yet. I thought for sure you would come to my room last night. And then, when we got home, I…”

She trailed off, trying to find her courage.

“I didn’t cry,” she said. “Not like Nino and Ichika did… I only felt more determined.” She looked up at him, into those eyes. “I knew I had to find you. And that I’d need to tell you that. That I love you.”

Fuutarou had held a level face, but that final declaration… it looked almost as if she had stabbed him, and Miku knew immediately what she’d just said was wrong. And she felt the tower give way beneath her as he talked. “I love you too, Miku. But not the way that you want me to.”

She felt the water brimming in her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat, but there was shock in her chest when she realized that the pillar had gone, but she wasn’t falling. “Why not?” she blinked tears away.

He shook his head. “I… it would be better if I didn’t say it… right now.”

She took in a breath so large, so deep, that she felt almost as if her lungs would never be big enough. “Tell me,” she insisted, stretching out her hand and laying it on the table.

He looked at it before laying his on top. “It feel like… you’re in love with the idea of me.”

Her chest hurt.

“That you love me because you can trust me. Depend on me.”

Her lungs hurt. 

“Like I’m standing in for your father.”

Her heart….

“That’s not…” she blinked, realizing the tears weren’t there. That they refused to spill over the barrier she’d erected, and that, floating in the empty air, Miku refused to fall. And she realized something even worse.

Just how right Fuutarou was. She looked at him, sitting across from her with his serious expression and his sad eyes, and realized that Fuutarou was the same age as her. Something she’d known but it never seemed to matter. He was always so old, so mature. They were in the same year. The same class.

“When you look at me, you see a teacher…” Fuutarou shook his head. “Miku, do you know what I want to do when I graduate?”

The loud marketplace had never experienced a silence as deep as the one that followed.

His shoulders sagged, mouth turning down in a disappointed frown.

Her heart shattered. “I’m sorry…” she whispered.

His hand tightened over hers and he put his thumb into her palm. “Miku,” he began.

She withdrew it, replacing it into her lap. She could still feel the ghost of his fingers tight over her own. “I…”

“It’s okay, Miku. Really.” Fuutarou shrugged. “I don’t think anyone but my little sister Raiha has asked.”

That made it worse. “What an idiot I am…” she whispered.

That made the man… the teenager, smile. “Hey, at least you’re in good company, right?”

He was referring to her siblings. The pack of idiots. He’d told them before that they’d made his life hell, why in the world had she thought he’d want to do that forever?

The thought of her sisters cause something to float up to her. She hung without any need for the pillar, but the thought brought her up even higher.

Fate had brought Fuutarou to her. Not to have, but to deliver to the one who deserved him.

“You are looking for the others.” It wasn’t a question. “Are you asking them the same thing?”

“Sort of…” he sighed, his head hanging. “Even I don’t really know. I love each of you, but something like this… I don’t want to make the wrong choice. This isn’t a game.”

Miku nodded. She understood that. Fuutarou moved at the pace of a turtle, studying potential outcomes for almost any action that he could take. That she’d even taken a role in the game…

“It wasn’t Itsuki’s idea,” Miku said. Her voice was solid. 

He tilted his head, eyebrows narrowing. 

“The choosing game. You called it her idea. It wasn’t. Yotsuba and her both came up with it.”

He thought about that for several moments. “Ichika said it was Itsuki’s and that Yotsuba supported it.”

“Ichika was wrong,” Miku replied. She felt her hand tighten and her knuckles cracked. “Maybe she was as intimidated as the rest of us… but she’s wrong. Yotsuba presented the idea. We were originally going to be together… because it’d make us stronger.” 

She sighed, brushing the hair away from her face. She felt tired. She felt hungry. She wanted to just go home and eat cookies and sleep, knew she wouldn’t because how mad she was at herself and at her sisters.

“But I think the idea that any of us could lose was making us turn on one another,” she plainly admitted. “And we wanted you to ourselves.”

After a time he sighed and stood from his seat. “Thank you for telling me that, Miku.”

She didn’t respond. Unable to watch him go, Miku stared down at the remains of her tray. 

Her phone vibrated.

She ignored it. Her body refused to cry.

******************************************************************************

Yotsuba Nakano ran. She’d been running for forty minutes, her second set of laps for the day. She’d finish the hour, go for a walk, and then come back for a final thirty-minute sprint.

There was a lot that she needed to work out of her system today, but thankfully the school’s faculties were almost entirely empty the day after the festival.

Her legs burned. A pleasant pain, something she could focus on, could feel. 

She didn’t notice Fuutarou until she passed the marker where the next lap began. He was sitting in the bleachers, watching her go.

Yotsuba tried to stop on a dime. “Fuutarou!” she called out before her body decided that she couldn’t ignore the laws of momentum and launched her forward into a sprawling heap with a clumsy, “Yaaah!!”

Impact struck her hands and knees, trying to catch herself before ducking into a roll and popping up on the either side. Despite the universe’s best efforts, she hadn’t a scratch, nor her track uniform a single scuff.

“Oh, oopsie,” she giggled before looking back up to him.

He was smiling and shaking his head. 

There was a hole in Yotsuba’s chest. She couldn’t feel her racing heart, nor her quivering stomach. Running had held all of her focus but looking at him brought last night back.

Ichika and Nino wrapped around one another. Supporting each other through their tears. Miku sitting as silent as stone. Itsuki talked with their driver in short, brief explanations, while Yotsuba could only watch as her sisters shared in despair. But all she felt was the same hole in her stomach that she’d carried for years.

Ever since that time, long ago, where she’d met Fuutarou when they were both only 12 years old, and her sister Ichika had impersonated Yotsuba to steal her new friend.

It was an old pain, a large hole that was buried deep, deep inside of her. But it had been growing with each passing day that she hid her past from Fuutarou, pushing her sisters forward while feeling envious of them each step that they made. She had no path in life. She let others take advantage of her. She was an idiot. Guilt ravaged her, hidden beneath layer after layer of sweet happy sunshine.

“Fuutarou!!” she grinned wide enough that it hurt her cheeks, waving up to him in the stands. “What are you doing here?”

He got up from his seat and walked down the stairs. There was something in the way that he walked that made Yotsuba’s hair stand on edge. It made her reach up to the green ribbon she wore in her short orange hair and begin tugging self-consciously on it.

For a brief moment, she thought he might try something dastardly. Like trying to teach her something!

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” he said. “I figured you’d be here.”

“Yup! I gotta make it up to Eba, the former track captain, for taking over my part in the festival show for me!” Yotsuba flashed a toothy smile. “Gotta keep moving forward, right?”

A moment of silence that lasted two moments too long. “Yeah,” he finally replied.

She looked at him, tilting her head from side to side. “You look kinda tired, Fuutarou… do you need to lie down?”

“That’d make it hard to keep moving forward,” he grinned.

Yotsuba pouted at him. “Hey, I’m being serious!” 

“So am I.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. 

The hole inside grew wider.

“Where did you go last night, Fuutarou?” she asked him, bouncing her toes off the track. “I heard you pass by my room. I nearly jumped out of my skin, I was so scared that you were gonna pick me. But you just kept walking, and the others said that you left.”

He didn’t answer her question. “Yotsuba, can I ask you something?” His tone was brief, informal. 

It made her panic. “Err… right now?” she asked. “I should finish my laps.”

“I promise, it won’t take long.”

Yotsuba frowned. “Okay… I guess it won’t hurt then… but first, why did you leave?”

Fuutarou leaned on the waist-high fence that separated them. “It might take a while longer if I have to explain all that.”

The hole grew wider. 

“Oh! I guess it doesn’t really matter, then! You’re here now!” she grinned. “What’s your question?”

He stared at her, his face a mask. The overcast afternoon made his expression look darker. “If you’d like to sit with me, I can explain…” he offered.

“No, thanks!” she put her hands on her hips. “It’s alright! Go ahead and ask me your question.”

Wind passed between them. He opened his mouth, seemed to reconsider his question, and closed it. “I suppose I have two… but one can wait until later. I owe you that much,” he said.

She tilted her head and looked at him through confused eyes. “Eh? You owe me?”

“Yotsuba,” his voice returned to his deep firm tone, “was the game last night your idea?”

“Hmm? Of course it was,” she smiled. “I thought it’d be the best, cause then you could pick and then nobody would need to get hurt. Itsuki came up with the idea to have all the rooms spread out, and then everyone else agreed!” 

She gave him a thumbs up and then, seeing the glare in his eye, dropped it. 

“E-everyone except you, it seems… aheh,” she sweat, tapping her fingers together nervously.

“I see,” was his simple reply. “Yotsuba, that has to be the dumbest thing you’ve ever told me.”

The hole grew wider.

“Oh… umm, sorry! I say dumb things all the time, so that’s gotta be some kind of record!”

“It is, by far, the most infuriating, stupid thing any of you foolish girls have ever said.”

The hole grew wider, and Yotsuba could feel herself being swallowed whole.

“Oh wow, that’s pretty funny,” she laughed, rubbing her hand on the back of her head. “Anyways, I should get back to running then! It was good to see you!”

She didn’t wait for him to say goodbye. She turned and picked up a steady pace.

“Yotsuba!” he called after her. 

There was something in his voice, a sharp note of pain that made the girl stumble with a loud “Eyah!” and this time she hit the ground hard, chest first. “Oooooh,” she groaned, rolling onto her back. “Owchie owchie owchie!” Her hands grabbed at her boobs, massaging the sore tender area where she’d landed.

A shadow cast over her. Fuutarou leaned down, “Hey are you alright?”

“That smarts!” Yotsuba hissed in pain, her hand sliding beneath her shirt and cupping her sports bra.

“Well it serves you right… you didn’t let me finish.” Fuutarou’s ever serious scowl was affixed to his face.

She didn’t have time for this, she had to get away from this conversation, to get away from him before he would-

Fuutarou bent down and pressed a hand onto her shoulder. His eyes were darkened by the intimate shadow, only a few feet away.

She could lean up and kiss him from here, just like before. She wanted to so badly. Knew she shouldn’t. Didn’t care. Knew she couldn’t. She couldn’t be special. Five parts of a whole.

“Yotsuba,” his voice seemed so far away while she stared at his lips. “Please, don’t think of yourself that way.”

She didn’t understand until she thought that she did, and her eyes widened. Don’t think of herself as a part of the whole? As special? As what?

“You and your sisters deserve better than that… and I do, as well.” He shook his head warningly. “Yotsuba, treating relationships like a game will make everyone come out as the loser.”

She gulped, lifting her hand to tie around his wrist. “F-Fuutarou…” she started to talk. She wanted to tell him everything. To tell him they’d met five years ago. To tell him how she’d recognized him immediately when she saw him again. She wanted to tell him all of the lies.

But the hole was too big, and she tried to bury everything in it to hide the truth.

“Okay…” was all she could reply.

He lifted his hand and sunlight returned. It warmed her face, but she could hardly feel it. When offered his hand, she took it, but still felt nothing. “None of us are prizes to be won. Do you understand that?”

She nodded. Then she grinned. “I’ve gotta run. Do you want to come over later? We’re gonna make cookies!”

He looked away from her. “I think we could all use an early night. And I’ve still got to talk with Itsuki.”

“Okay! Bye-bye!” She turned and started to jog.

Her legs burned. A pleasant pain, something she could focus on, could feel. A comfort compared to the void that she felt in her chest.

When she came around the corner, Fuutarou was gone, and Yotsuba ran through the exit. She ran past her gym bag, ran past the school. She kept running until she was sure nobody knew her, nobody would see her, and she sunk down against the backside of a building and finally allowed herself to cry.

******************************************************************************

Itsuki Nakano watched her sister sprint off of the track through the window. The young redhead noticed Yotsuba leaving her gym bag behind, sprinting in long powerful strides until she rounded the far side of the building and vanished from sight.

Itsuki also watched Fuutarou Uesugi approaching the entrance to the school beneath her window. He was looking right at her and she down at him. He was coming for her, now. He disappeared beneath the windowsill, and Itsuki returned to her notebook.

Her phone buzzed. She withdrew it from her school jacket, laying it onto the table next to her glasses case. The chatroom app had forwarded a new notification. Her finger skated over her lock screen, outlining the pattern of the number 5.

The chat history immediately filled her screen.

 “Yeah,” she huffed sarcastically, looking back out to where Yotsuba had vanished. “Not bad at all.” 

She dug in her pack and retrieved her third sack of candy of the afternoon. Four other packs filled her purse, sour gummy worms for her sour mood. She crammed a handful into her mouth, turning back to her notes.

She’d come close to flunking the career aptitude test to even attend university and was trying her best to review her notes. She tried to focus but her tummy was rumbling and her breathing was tense and her eyes couldn’t focus and…

And there was someone at the door to the classroom. She could hear his footfall as he approached. It sounded the exact same as it had last night, and for a brief moment the fear returned to Itsuki.

He couldn’t have picked me.

The door opened and Fuutarou Uesugi entered. Most of him was masked in the shadow of the building, far away from the light of the windows. She didn’t look at him. Refused to. Her fingers were trembling, but whether through fear or through sadness or anger, she couldn’t tell.

“Yes?” she asked, adjusting the red rimmed glasses on her face and turning a page in her notebook. “I’m busy.”

“I brought meat buns. Figured you might be hungry.”

It took mentioning them for Itsuki to realize the scent on the air. The sweet savory scent caught her under the chin, tilted her head backward until she was looking straight ahead. Then, very slowly, she turned her head. 

Steam was leaking out of Uesugi’s backpack. He held it open, eyebrows bent in his determined way. He’d brought them as an offering. A bargaining chip.

Itsuki’s ego bubbled and boiled deep inside of her, but the rumble in her tummy was enough not only to suffocate the pride but to smother it beneath delectable thoughts of fresh bread and warm meats. Her tummy rumbled loudly, and drool trickled from the side of her lips.

She’d snapped down three of the buns with glutenous voracity. Each time she’d finished, she’d make an attempt to sit back and say something, but Uesugi would place the next before her and Itsuki’s willpower was nonexistent when it came to food. They tasted delightful, freshly cooked bread paired perfectly with juicy meats that dribbled down her throat and settled into her paunch.

“Ai havn’t eatn nothin today,” she spoke through a massive bite of the fourth bun. The action caught a bit in her throat and she had to tapped her fist against her pillowy chest to clear her windpipe. “Ahem, sorry. Really hungry.”

“I can see that,” Fuutarou spoke levely. He chewed his own bun of meat while seated across the desk, his eyes noticeably falling to the discarded wrappers of her candy and the small bag that sat on top of them.

Itsuki pouted, cheeks flushing pink. “Candy doesn’t count! It’s like empty nourishment!”

“Miku mentioned that you guys had baked pancakes in the morning,” he smirked.

“P-pancakes don’t count either!”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so!” Feeling as if this made her point inarguably true, Itsuki then tore another mouthful of meat from her bun and made happy chewing noises as she chomped up the remains.

A fifth was placed in front of her.

Five being her lucky number, the quintuplet took the fifth meat bun and nibbled at the corner without recognizing the packed feeling down in her tummy. “So, what do you want?” 

It came out harsher than she’d intended, but the tone didn’t seem to bother him. He looked out to the track, shaking his head. “Well, I want to go back and tell you off when you told me about the game, for starters.”

Itsuki paused. She tilted her head, still nibbling on the bun. “Eh?

“You surprised me when you told me the terms. If I’d only just spoken then, maybe things would be different.”

Itsuki grumbled around the curve of her bun. “You surprised me by just leaving…”

“Itsuki…” he looked at her with those severe eyes. “When have I ever played any of your games? You said it yourself, it was designed to annoy me. And you divided everyone up.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Of course we divided ourselves up. What, did you think anyone else would want to see you confess to one of the others? It’d have torn them apart.”

He shook his head. “You and Yotsuba… all of you, actually. I can’t believe how stupid you still are.”

The next tear of the meat bun was especially vicious. She pointed a warning finger at him.

Uesugi responded by hanging his arm over the back of his chair. “When has being separated ever been to your family’s benefit?” he demanded.

Itsuki continued to chew, but it began to slow. Her finger lowered to the desk.

“Your strength is in your unity. Five parts of the whole, isn’t that what you quintuplets say?”

“W-well… yes,” she put the bun on the desk. “But it’s not the same in this case. Whoever won the game would be special.”

“There’s where the problem is! Do you not understand?” Uesugi jabbed a finger into his chest. “Love isn’t some game! In a contest to choose who I would take as a prize, I would rather choose no one!”

“A…prize?”

“Is that not what your game is? That game convinced each of your sisters that they were some sort of trophy. Instead of being about feelings, it was twisted into a contest!”

A gust Summer air blew in from the window, passing over Itsuki like the breath of the reaper. She shook her head. “That’s not… they wouldn’t think…” A grimace came over her. “They would… wouldn’t they?”

He crossed his arms and was scowling at her, but there was something behind that angry look. Hurt. Genuine pain. All of the sudden he was soaking wet, looking like a drowned rat while he clung to the edge of the pier and Itsuki was brushing fake hair out of her fake face and bidding him a fake goodbye. Guilt flood into Itsuki more powerful than any emotion.

In that guilt she found resolution. She had it before, when they were in Kyoto and she felt the need to confess about her biggest lie, but couldn’t. Now, playing with the extra page in her notebook, she knew that she had to.

“Uesugi…” she took a deep breath and looked up at him with stalwart blue eyes. “I’m Rena.”

There was the ghost of a pause before Uesugi tilted his eyebrow. “So?”

The blunt question caused Itsuki to stumble. “I-I lied to you… I dressed up as Yotsuba after she-”

“What?” he broke in, cutting her off. The noncommittal expression disappeared.

“Yotsuba asked me to impersonate her. She thought that…” Itsuki stopped speaking. She saw the look on his face, watched his eyes fluttering. 

“N-no… that wouldn’t make sense. Then that’d mean Yotsuba…”

“Was the quintuplet you met on that day five years ago. Yes. She asked me to get this from you.” Itsuki opened her notebook to the marked page. 

A picture of 12-year-olds Fuutarou and Yotsuba lay pressed between the sheets. A blonde punk with a pierced ear and bad boy scoff standing next to a little ray of sunshine that was beaming for the camera. It made Itsuki’s stomach turn, but she couldn’t look away.

“I-I’ve been trying to tell you…” she dotted, tapping her finger on the desk feeling guilty and ashamed. “I couldn’t bear this lie any longer. But…” she gulped, forcing herself to look up to him.

Fuutarou loosed a long, heavy breath. He stared at the picture for a long time before shaking his head and then rubbed his forefinger and thumb over his eyes. “You need to apologize to your sisters.”

She shook her head. “Not before I finish apologizing to you.”

“For what?” he asked, heat crawling into his voice. “For lying to me? How many times has your family done that? Even… no, especially Yotsuba. God, she was there too, wasn’t she? Running track! She…” His hand tightened into a fist and he stood up from his seat.

Itsuki hopped, startled by the sudden movement and the fire in his voice.

“Itsuki, what do you see when you look at me?” he boomed.

“F-Fuutarou…” 

“Answer.”

Her hand tightened nervously over her chest, her gaze falling to her notebook. Beneath where the picture had laid were dozens of lines of notes. Marks of smudged ink, highlighted sections. It was a special page and at the bottom read a line.

Japanese: 47 | Mathematics: 35 | Science: 70 | Social Studies: 32 | English: 40

Total Points: 224 | Itsuki Nanako: Pass

“I see my ideal,” she answered truthfully. “Someone I respect enough that I strive to be like him.”

“But not enough to not lie to me,” he replied.

Her head hung. He was right. “I’m sorry…” she head swiveled back and forth. “I never… I wanted to help…”

He leaned down on the desk but she still couldn’t look at him. The heat faded from his voice, he whispered, “And you meant to help them, too. Apologize to your sisters. Or I will never forgive you.”

And then he made to leave the room. Itsuki stopped him. “Fuutarou… have you seen Nino yet today?”

He didn’t turn around. “No. She wasn’t at the shop, nor at home. I don’t know where she is.”

Itsuki nodded. “When you see her, let her know she left her phone at home. Okay?”

He stood in the doorway for several moments. “Itsuki, I don’t think I can handle any more of you five today. I’m going home.”

He left.

******************************************************************************

It took Fuutarou another hour till he arrived at home. His feet dragged, his eyes drooped, and he had to make an effort to cling to the handrail rather than crawl up the steps to the entrance.

When he’d left the house this morning, he had done so with gusto! He had been determined to sort things out with the quintuplets, to talk with each of them and to determine where his true feelings lie.

But as the day developed, he learned that he wasn’t figuring out his feelings. He was learning theirs. Ichika, the older sister who saw him as a hard-working student. Miku, the introvert that was coming out of her shell because she saw him as a teacher. Itsuki, who saw him as both of these things. And Yotsuba, who… who lied to him all this time. Maybe even from the very beginning. 

How soon had she recognized him?

Why didn’t you recognize her?

All of these problems could have been solved months ago had they simply told him the truth. But no. They kept things lurking in the shadows. Backstage, out of sight, intrigue and mystery and all it had amounted to was heartbreak for six people.

Fuutarou returned then to his earlier resolve. He had made his choice when he’d walked out of the school last night, and he would have to stick to it. He would choose none of the girls he loved.

He opened the front door and removed his shoes. It was warm in the Uesugi household and a drift of pleasant-smelling smoke emanated from the kitchen. It was some sort of meat, maybe beef for more curry, or perhaps chicken strips with rice.

Regardless, no matter the smell, his appetite was gone. He trudged into the family room. Sitting cross legged at a small table was the blonde bad boy butthead that was his father, basking in the wind of an electric fan while his hand rested on a dark glass of some beverage. A pitcher of it was at the table’s center alongside a plate of cookies. A number of glasses were waiting for their owner to return.

Fuutarou didn’t acknowledge the man, just sat down on the floor near the wall without a word.

“Wow… I ain’t seen you look this bad since you were studying for that big test.” His father’s voice was deep, with a sharp edge that only added to his delinquent appearance. Fuutraou suspected that was thanks to the decade of smoking cigarettes rather than any actual fighting, but the man had his scars. “You feelin’ okay, kid? Want a glass of black tea?” he shook his glass. Ice clinked inside.

God, it was hot in the house. The lack of air conditioning was always at its worse when the oven was on.

“No. Thanks. Is Raiha making dinner?”

Dad chuckled. “She’s trying. I think she’s out of her depth on this one, though. You know the last time I had steak was on a sandwich? People are crazy nowadays.”

Fuutarou squinted at him. “Eh? Steak? We can’t afford steak. You didn’t buy that, did you?”

“Yeah, like I’d go and do that! If I was gonna eat like a king, I’d do it alone,” he tapped his thumb on his chest. “At a restaurant. Downtown. And maybe take Raiha. But like hell would I ask her to cook four portions that each cost over 4,000 Yen!”

“4,000 Yen?!” Fuutarou gasped. “T-there’s no way steak is that expensive!”

His father smirked, his finger circling around the top of his glass. “You would notice the price first, idiot.”

“First?” Fuutarou asked.

Then he did notice. Three drinks on the table, with a fourth glass empty and waiting. A plate of cookies, soft sugar cookies shaped like smiling bears mixed with blueberry flowers and scarlet jelly on the hearts.

He’d seen the cookies before. A jolt of lightening restarted his body. His heart beat in his chest and he turned to face Nino Nakano as she walked through the partition with a delighted and excited looking Raiha at her elbow, each holding plates in either hand.

Nino looked at him with soft blue eyes that shimmered in the bare bulb lighting like sapphire jewels inside a poor coal mine. She was smiling in her self-assured way, head held high with pride. “I knew you’d be back. Just in time.”

“Big brother!” Raiha cheered. “Look what me and Nino made! She took me grocery shopping and taught me how to make filled a miging!”

Nino laughed girlishly, the butterfly ribbons in her dark red hair quivering like fluttering wings. “Not quite. Filet mignon,” she slowed her speech to  enunciate the accented word.

“Filet mignon!” Raiha parroted, her long black hair swinging around her body and the long braid atop her head bobbing as she teetered backward and forward on the balls of her feet. “That’s what I said!” Then she turned to Fuutarou. “And we made potatoes and gravy and green beans and cookies.”

“Yeah, lucky you took so da…rn long,” Dad shifted from the cuss at the last moment, his eyes flicking from Fuutarou to the pair of girls. “Nino’s been spoiling us since lunch.”

Nino laughed softer, exhaling a chuckle while her mouth tugged into a smirk. “I was the one who stepped up after our mother passed away. None of the others were willing to try, but I wanted it.”

“That’s how it is here!” Raiha moved to the table, passing a plate in front of her father and then another in her usual spot. “These guys are hopeless,” she giggled.

“Hey, I’m not hopeless!” Dad complained. “I could go down the street and order a burger right now if I wanted!”

The girls both laughed, setting the table for four.

Fuutarou didn’t move. He couldn’t. He tried, but the moment he’d seen her, his body froze like a deer caught in the light of an oncoming train.

And yet, she wasn’t even looking at him. Nino pushed a plate to the empty spot, sure to set the fork and knife just right, paying attention to Raiha and Dad as they went back and forth. The black cardigan that she wore looked massive on her slight body, appealingly mixing with the deep blue blouse she wore beneath. A pair of black thigh socks came up to just bellow the reach of her black skirt, exposing her pale skin that spilled over the tops.

She was reaching forward, taking the empty glass and filling it with the pitcher. She didn’t even ask, just moved it over to Fuutarou’s place before finally turning to him and looking into his eyes.

“Are you gonna join us, or what?” she asked.

His mouth was on autopilot. “Why are you here?” he asked.

“Fuutarou!” Raiha complained from the other side. “Don’t you want to eat with us? It’s really, really good!”

They ignored her, unbreaking eye contact. “Come have dinner with me,” Nino said softly, holding out her hand, “and I might tell you.”

******************************************************************************

A rabbit. That’s what Nino Nakano felt like. A little rabbit with a heart beating a thousand times per minute in a den of friendly wolves.

Completely off kilter, so far out of her depth, and yet she knew there was nowhere else she would rather be than with him at her side.

She felt more than an ounce of self-satisfaction when he and his father cut into their steaks, so tender that they could separate them with solely their forks. “Unngh,” his father groaned at the first bite. “This takes me back… You made these rare?”

“Medium rare,” Nino nodded. “Rare’s too bloody.”

The alpha wolf grinned. Sharp teeth flecked with juice. “I like it bloody.”

She felt herself shiver and turned to Fuutarou.

Surprise came when she saw his bright amber eyes locked into a thousand-yard stare, his fork resting upside down in his mouth. His hand had fallen away. “F-Fuu-kun?” she prompted. She reached out to tap him.

A huge paw came down on her shoulder. “Shhhhhh,” Mr. Uesugi hushed her. “Let him enjoy the moment.”

She turned from the father back to the son. The fork dropped from Fuutarou’s mouth.

“Did we kill him?” Raiha asked. Nino noticed that the young girl had only picked at her green beans so far.

A sudden rumble escaped into the room. It bubbled and popped from Fuutarou’s stomach like a car engine that was having trouble starting before his trembling hand found his fork and he cut the next piece.

“Oh, wow…” Raiha muttered, watching angelic tears dot Fuutarou’s face. “I wanna try!”

“It’s not every day a boy has his first steak prepared by a master chef,” Mr. Uesugi grinned.

Nino’s heart managed to beat even quicker. “M-master? I’m not a master! N-not yet, anyways…”

“You? I was talking about Raiha!” he exploded into a huge laugh.

“Ish chewy!” the young girl exclaimed, her lips bouncing up and down again and again. “Mmm, it tastes a lot better than the ground beef we use for the curry!”

Nino put her hands in front of her, bowing slightly as she received their praise. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m happy to have made it for you. It’s the least I could do for your hospitality.”

“Hospitality? Kid, anyone can make a pitcher of black tea.”

“You can’t!”

“Hey, you be quiet! Or else I’ll take the rest of your steak!”

“Nooooooo, it’s mine! I helped make it!”

Nino cupped her mouth in her hand, laughing merrily as she ate. And then she realized Fuutarou, and realized he was smiling. And the rabbit’s heartbeat was so fast she was afraid he would hear it, but at the same time she wanted him to, because then he would know that it beat for him.

When dinner was finished, Nino allowed Mr. Uesugi to handle the dishes. “She cooks, we clean. Come on, kid, up an attem. Even your zombie butt can clean the table, eh?”

“Y-yeah,” Fuutarou nodded. His father gathered the dishes and made for the kitchen, tossing the son a rag. 

“So, Nino!” Raiha grinned, “What are your plans for the summer?”

“Oof,” Nino breathed. “I don’t know what my plans for tomorrow are, much less what’s going on back at the house. I’d like to graduate with the rest of my sisters though, and maybe we can all go and celebrate after that. There’s an old legend at this beach I know of.”

“Another legend?” Fuutarou asked. “Where do these keep coming from?”

“I dunno!” Nino took a cookie and sat back, letting him wipe the table in front of her. “Legendary people, I guess.” She turned back to Raiha. “They say that any couples that join hands when they go to the pier-”

“Are bonded forever?” he broke in.

“Would you let me tell the story!” Nino swatted him on the shoulder, eliciting a pleased snicker from the little sister. “They say,” Nino eyed Fuutarou, “that any couples that join hands when they go to the pier…” She paused.

He opened his mouth, thought better of taking the bait, and left it.

Nino grinned at him, nodding. “That they get free ice cream from the parlor.”

“What?” he asked.

“What?! Really?!” Raiha asked.

Nino nodded, crossing her arms across her chest. “Mhmm! And the ice cream scoops are in the shapes of hearts. The parlor owner is apparently a total romantic.”

Fuutarou rolled his eyes. “That’s not true. What kind of a business model would give away free ice cream?”

“Well,” Nino said, taking another cookie, “we’ll have to test that out when you take me. Won’t we?”

His face flushed. 

Across the table, Raiha clapped her hands on either side of her face. Her goofy braid shook comically, her mouth opening into a gasp. “Big brother, are you and Nino…? Is that why you got that dating booklet?!”

The table suddenly seemed a whole lot more interesting, and his circling motion became more rapid. He opened his mouth, looked at Nino, and then closed it. He blinked several times. With each one, Nino could feel her own face coloring from an amused pink to a much darker blush. She’d been… partially joking. But now, the joke seemed far away.

When he spoke next, his voice was so quiet that it was almost swept away by the electric fan. “Raiha, can you please give Nino and me some privacy?”

The raven-haired girl looked between them, then at each of them, then clapped her hands excitedly and squealed before hurriedly getting to her feet and racing away.

Nino felt like she was having trouble breathing. The air was hot, despite the small fan, and she had to swallow it through her mouth rather than taking it in from her nose. Without thinking, she shrugged out of her cardigan, letting it fall behind her on the ground. She realized now that her underarms felt sweaty, that there was even a dribble behind her bangs. 

Instead of acknowledging either and letting them get to her, she crossed her arms in a comfortable position beneath her chest. “So, a dating booklet, huh?” she asked. Then rolling her eyes, “Fuu-kun, you can stop wiping the table.”

He suddenly froze, his extended arm reaching all the way to the far end. His hand was wringing all the water from the wet cloth. He released it, lowering himself onto his haunches. “Yeah…” he said, tilting his head toward her. “‘If pushing gets you nowhere, try pulling instead.’ – The High Schooler’s Guide to Love.”

Nino turned away, trying to conceal the sudden irrational need to laugh. “So… you picked that up too, eh?”

She turned back as Fuutarou lifted himself onto his knees, bringing one of his feet under him. Without thinking Nino reached out and took him by the edge of his sleeve.

He looked at her fingers and then to her. “I was gonna go… sit across,” he pointed to where Raiha had been.

She tried to say something but nothing came out. She felt herself shake her head, denying the distance.

Slowly he fell back onto his knees, then his haunches, and then onto his backside.

Nino let go of his sleeve.

Both of them stared at the plate of cookies, and Nino realized she was looking specifically at one little heart.

“Nino,” Fuutarou broke the silence, “what do you see when you look at me?”

A dictionary of words flooded Nino’s mind, yet she was taken by a complete lack of words. Her heart racing, her mind flooded, all she could see was the cookies she’d baked. 

Yet turning to look at him was the easiest thing she had ever done. She saw on his face the anxiety, the worry. It was that same blush he had when he admitted he was scared that she’d been mad at him. Pushing and pulling, she remembered. But right now she wanted nothing more than to walk side by side, hand in hand. To belong.

“You’re so dramatic!” Nino turned her nose up. “Asking me such a thing after just making you dinner. You could wait until taking me on a walk or something.”

“I don’t think I could manage a walk…” Fuutarou admitted. 

“Well, don’t you have anywhere more romantic?” Nino wiggled back and forth, pouting. “You read the book, isn’t the setting important for things like this?”

“I’m not asking you to marry me…” he grunted. “But, I guess we could go to the park or something.”

Nino waved her hand in front of her face. “No, no. Here’s fine. I actually kind of like here, it still smells like dinner, and it’s the first time I’m in your home. So, I guess it’s kinda romantic.”

He squinted at her. “Would you make up your mind?!”

She snorted, sitting back and holding her hand over her grin. “Alright, fine. I’ll answer you.”

He smoothed his hair back, glowering at her. “I hate it when you do that.”

“You say that, but I don’t think you do.” Nino grinned, false confidence over her rabbiting heart. “So, do you want the real answer?”

He looked up from the cookies, over toward her. She must have looked intense because the blush increased, but he didn’t look away. “Of course I do...”

“Because I can sit here all night flattering you, Fuu-kun.” And the dictionary was forming words now, her mouth working on its own, her body along for the ride. She held up her fingers as she went on. “I can tell you that you’re smart, that you make me laugh, make me feel cared about and wanted, and you’re not afraid to tell me what you think. But the truth is that when I look at you, Fuutarou, I see what is mine.”

She had to stop, to tie back her fear and her worries and all of the emotions that were fluttering like a thousand butterflies inside of her stomach.

“Just like, when I look in the mirror, I see what is yours.”

He swallowed and then she thought, just for a moment, she could hear it. His heartbeat. 

And she knew it beat for her. 

“I-I…” he tried.

Nino reached forward and she took his hand. “Would you like to go upstairs?” she asked.

“We’re already upstairs…” he replied.

Nino took in a breath, let it out as a sigh, and then she was laughing. And he was chuckling. And, hand in hand, the young couple smiled and felt relief and a flood of new worries, but strongest of all they felt love, and each of them knew it.

His grip was stronger than she had expected. But then she remembered where she was. A rabbit in the den of the wolves. She pulled herself to sit closer to him, held his hand and rested it on her exposed thigh.

“Oh, yeah.” He squeezed her hand. “Itsuki says you forgot your phone back at home.”

Nino rolled her eyes, feeling a puff of exasperation float out of her. “I didn’t forget it, I left it there. They’d be talking about you all day. I didn’t want to hear any of it without talking to you myself.”

“Talking about me?”

“Well, yeah!” she shook his hand. “You walked past everyone last night and then left! Which, by the way,” she raised an outstretched hand.

He flinched.

Nino brought it down and touched him lightly on the cheek. “Are you feeling okay?”

He stared at her for a few moments, a trickle of sweat forming on his temple before saying, “I honestly thought you were going to hit me.”

“… I wanted to,” she admitted. “But I spent a lot of last night thinking. I was sure you’d come and look for us, but… well, love is being on the offensive! I tried putting myself in your shoes.”

A pair of feet traipsed up from behind them and Nino reflexively clutched harder on his hand rather than letting it go. Raiha bonked her older brother on the back of the head with a rolled-up piece of paper. “Dummy!” she shouted over his cry of pain, then flashed a thumbs up at Nino.

“Yow! Raiha!” he growled, swiping after her bare feet as she hurried away. “Mind your own business!!”

Nino shook with a repressed giggle. “That almost makes up for it…” then she widened her eyes and felt the pink in her cheeks when she grinned. “But I can’t help think I’d feel better if I did get to hit you.”

Fuutarou rubbed at his crown. He scoffed and, in that moment, looked exactly like his picture had, but now older, more masculine, and with dark hair. He looked a lot like his father. “No thanks, I’ve seen how hard you can hit.”

“Awe, come on,” she put her other hand over his and pressed him down to her thigh. “Just a little one?”

He looked at her as she pouted innocently before shaking his head. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this…” he mourned. 

“Really?!” Nino squeezed his hand and let it drop before eagerly getting up on her knees. “It’ll be fine! I’ll aim for your cheek!”

“You are way too excited about this…”

“I’ve been practicing my slaps!” 

“You what?! W-wait, I reconsider!”

Nino brought her hand up into the air, fingers clasped together to form a perfect surface. She saw him look up with traumatized eyes, with the knife hand casting a shadow over his entire face. She rushed it down and he closed his eyes, tucking into himself,

When she reached him, her hand was slow. She cupped his cheek with it, caressing it with her thumb. His eyes opened as she leaned forward to kiss him.

Suddenly his arms were around her and pulling her forward. She fell onto him again and their lips met. And this time, she could feel his lips responding to her, and hear the toll from the bell up above.