“Today I’m a little different from yesterday. I wonder what’s changed?”
Nine p.m. Kayano Yuki, arriving at the empty adult corner of Sagara Books, said this the moment she walked in, before even a proper greeting, arms spread wide. Aya, half-risen from the register to greet her, stared at her, dumbstruck. She lifted one of the hanging opaque panels to check what kind of face Yuki was making as she said it, and found her looking a little embarrassed.
A moment later Yuki’s cheeks colored, and she dropped the panel back down, hiding, flustered.
Aya came back to herself, stepped out through the swing door, and silently looked Yuki over head to toe.
“…Wait, not the clothes?”
Her outfit was completely different from last night. Tonight it was a casual hoodie with navy pants — a pants look. The thick hoodie hid her build enough to give a boyish impression, but by contrast it only emphasized her long hair, her lashes, her slender fingers — the features that marked her as biologically female. She’d been in a skirt yesterday; both suited her.
Aya’s answer apparently wasn’t what she wanted; Yuki’s embarrassed face took on a hint of dissatisfaction.
“Well, yeah, the clothes are different, but that’s not what I’m asking about. I mean somewhere more — bodily.”
“So the hairstyle then? The half-up suits you. Do you do it yourself?”
She usually wore her hair straight down, but tonight it was tied half-up. Aya had occasionally noticed her styling it, but seeing it properly like this, it really did look nice.
At Aya’s straightforward compliment, Yuki closed her eyes, touching her hair with a complicated expression.
“I mean, yeah, I did do it half-up… and I’m happy you’re complimenting it, but…”
“Not that.”
“You think I’d give you a quiz you could just solve by looking?”
“Then don’t give me a quiz I can’t solve by looking!”
Aya shot back, exasperated despite herself, and Yuki made a sulky face — one Aya had never seen her wear at school. Honestly. Muttering to herself, Aya leaned back against the register counter, arms crossed, and studied Yuki’s pouting face from close range. She groaned for a few seconds. Still nothing.
But saying “I give up” felt like it would actually hurt her.
Given how Morishita had praised her earlier for figuring it out, Aya couldn’t exactly throw in the towel so easily here. Steeling herself, Morishita’s face floated up in her mind.
If Yuki was opening with a quiz like this right off the bat, she’d probably overheard the exchange with Morishita. Which meant she likely assumed a similar puzzle would be solvable. With a flicker of unease, Aya spent her one guess.
“Is it… your lip color?”
At that Yuki puffed her cheeks out even more dissatisfied and turned her face away. Her cheeks were a little red. Wrong, apparently.
“You got it right away with Morishita-san.”
So it had been correct, then. Aya let out an exasperated sigh, arms still crossed.
“Well, Morishita sits close to me and I talk to her basically every day. There’s no way I’d catch it with you. Yesterday was literally the first time we properly talked. And a clear lip gloss, no less — normally you’d only notice a change like that by smell or feel. I only caught Morishita’s because the shine was different.”
“Right, of course. I’m just an acquaintance you barely know.”
Yuki turned away with a sulk so exaggerated it practically came with a sound effect. But her cheeks had loosened slightly. Aya had half-suspected as much already — she wasn’t really upset. Apparently she was the type to joke like this. Aya laughed wryly, put a hand on her hip, and apologized.
“My bad, sorry. I’ll get it right next time — but in exchange, actually show your face around the shop more, okay? I can’t tell what’s changed if I don’t know the baseline.”
Yuki glanced sideways at Aya, then, unable to hold it in any longer, let out a soft laugh and turned to face her, cheerful, eyes crinkling ticklishly.
“Okay. Though I don’t have enough money to buy that much.”
“That’s fine, browsing’s fine too. And of course, if there’s something specific you’re after, I can help.”
At that Yuki nodded, looking not at all displeased.
For a few seconds after that, the two of them fell quiet. Aya crossed her arms, searching for a topic; Yuki just stood there, not really looking for anything, eyes drifting restlessly.
Finding the silence — comfortable or awkward, she couldn’t quite tell — amusing, Aya decided it would be unkind to leave her standing there forever and put a hand on the counter.
“There’s a chair back here, want to come in?”
She kicked the swing door open with her knee, and Yuki, as if startled into motion, said “oh, sure!” and followed her in.
Behind the register counter was a narrow aisle. Both sides were packed with stock and supplies, making the most of the tight space. The shop side had various screens set up so customers wouldn’t have to make eye contact, and a monitor off to the side displayed feed from security cameras covering every blind spot. “Wow,” Yuki said, excited, looking around at the piles of miscellaneous paperwork.
“You can look at anything that’s already out, but don’t touch what’s in the drawers — contracts, confidential stuff. If something happens to it, the shop could actually go under. Well, they’re locked anyway.”
“Oh, of course. Got it!”
There was a single folding chair Aya usually used in that narrow aisle. She unfolded a second one beside it.
“Here,” Aya said, gesturing, and Yuki sat down happily with an “pardon the intrusion.”
Aya sat too, and a few seconds of silence settled over the two of them side by side. Yuki laughed, finding the situation strange, and Aya, feeling a little odd herself about inviting a classmate back here, brought up a topic.
“This morning, you were talking with Shinozaki and the others about midterms.”
“Oh, you heard that? Yeah. I should really start studying soon.”
Yuki nodded, looking a little pleased, and Aya, watching her expression carefully, cautiously got to the point.
“…Honestly, it looked like it might be stressful.”
At that, Yuki’s expression faded slightly, her eyes turning away as if to hide her unease.
She gave an “mm,” half a cleared throat, and then fell silent, expressionless.
Seeing this, Aya realized she’d misjudged the line and started to apologize properly, but before she could open her mouth, Yuki’s clouded face turned to her first. “Well, I mean,” she said.
“Those two didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”
She said it with an unconvincing smile, and Aya understood then why her expression had clouded over.
The stress had clearly been real. But if it had arisen during that particular conversation, then it must have seemed to Yuki that Aya’s next thought would be that Shinozaki, Endo, and the friends around them were the cause. Aya laughed despite herself and nodded lightly.
“I get it. If anything, I felt the same way those two did in that moment. I’m not talking behind anyone’s back.”
Once Aya had clearly spelled out the line her thinking would take, Yuki, relief washing over the guilt of having doubted her, let out a breath and smiled. “Sorry — thanks,” she said, and continued.
“It’s just, how do I put it. Everyone expects so much of me.”
Yuki looked off into the distance, still seated in the pipe chair, lifting and dropping her heels once, knees together but feet apart. She tapped her fingers on her kneecap, restless.
“My family — well, my whole extended family, really — are all doctors. Pretty much everyone went to some amazing university and works at some amazing hospital doing something amazing. My brother and sister both go to a top-tier medical school now. I think my brother’s a resident. And everyone in my family expects me to figure out what kind of doctor I’m going to be.”
Just imagining that kind of pressure was exhausting; Aya found herself at a loss for words, listening quietly.
“They told me I needed good grades to get into med school, so I studied hard — and once I started getting good results, teachers and friends started expecting things too, and now I’m basically treated like a doctor-in-training. Honestly, the expectations are just… heavy.”
She said it half as a joke, half a complaint, and Aya laughed a little too, tossing in a light remark. It made breathing a little easier.
“If I remember right, you’ve been top of the year the whole time, right? That’s impressive.”
“Good memory. What about it — want to try aiming for doctor too, Mizuki-san?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. …Though I’d have figured someone like that would go to a more academically focused school. This is just a regular public high school. Is that normal?”
“The average high-school-level classes don’t really differ that much wherever you take them, for me. I figured it’d be more efficient to cut down commute time and study at home instead. And my mock exams have been good, actually.”
Every time they talked like this, Aya kept feeling this gap in perspective crack open between them.
Stunned but doing her best to look merely impressed, Aya nodded a few times, murmuring “I see.” For someone with a vague ambition to attend a good university, this reasoning might not track — but for someone with a clear, fixed path already set, this kind of approach probably made sense. Still impressed, Aya continued.
“But you don’t actually want to be a doctor, do you?”
She asked it like she was confirming a guess, and Yuki went still. She looked at Aya with her mouth slightly open, round-eyed, and Aya, seeing that reaction, knew her guess had landed.
“…Wait, did I tell you that? Mizuki-san?”
“You didn’t say it, but I could tell from how you talked about it. It didn’t sound like someone with a strong will to become a doctor. More like — something rotting a little at the root.”
It had been a guess based on a feeling, which was why she’d phrased it as a question, but apparently she’d been right.
Yuki fell silent, unable to hide her surprise at Aya’s words, then, realizing there was nothing left to hide and no reason to, closed her eyes and gave a resigned, wry laugh. She put her hands between the legs of the pipe chair and slumped forward.
“‘Don’t want to’ is a bit strong, maybe… but at the very least, it’s not that I want to.”
The difference might seem trivial in words, but it was a small, important distinction.
“Just to be balanced about it — I do think it’s an admirable profession.”
“Yeah, me too. Sometimes my dad lets me read letters from patients he’s treated. His face when he reads them, so happy, and the handwriting that can’t hide how grateful they are. It’s dazzling. I admired it.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, genuine longing in them. But underneath, self-loathing.
“But a person’s life is — it’s so heavy. Too heavy to hold with anything less than full commitment.”
It’s not that she didn’t want to become a doctor, but she didn’t want to, either. She was probably talking about a belief — how a doctor without that kind of conviction should face their patients. If that was the case, there was nothing an ignorant kid like Aya could say to that.
“So you think it’s not a job for someone without the right motivation?”
“Am I wrong?”
“Who knows. Probably fastest to ask your family for the right answer on that one.”
The only people close enough to give her a clear answer on that were probably her own relatives.
But Yuki’s gaze wandered, expression troubled, and then her lips curled into a self-deprecating line.
“Can’t ask them — because my whole family thinks I’m genuinely aiming to be a doctor, and they’re counting on it. If I said anything weak like this, wouldn’t that be betraying their expectations?”
“Sure, but are you going to twist your whole life to fit your parents’ expectations?”
At Aya’s blunt question, Yuki’s face crumpled for a moment. Aya, feeling the weight of her own words the instant they left her mouth, reflexively covered her mouth. She herself knew her own home situation wasn’t exactly conventional, but she got along well with her father and he respected her right to choose her own path — which was maybe why she’d spoken so carelessly.
“…Sorry, forget I said that.”
“No — I think you’re right, Mizuki-san. Even I wonder sometimes what I think I’m doing.”
Yuki looked off into the distance, at the adult goods lining the shop, at the actress on a sample video display, from a remove.
“But scary things are scary. My parents are kind — if I told them, I’m sure they’d understand. But — nobody builds a rocket hoping it flies off in some random direction, right? It’s designed and built with a specific outcome in mind. When I think about the two of them raising me for sixteen years, hoping I’d turn out a certain way — I’m scared of betraying that. Scared of disappointing them.”
Her cooled gaze dropped to the pale pink-lit floor of the adult corner.
“What I really want is to decide my own path myself — not be someone decided by somebody else.”
Her raised eyes drifted vacantly into empty space, her lips carrying a trace of self-mockery.
“But then I think, if I step off the road paved by everyone’s expectations and get lost, nobody’s going to help me, right?”
Having said that much, Yuki suddenly came back to herself, squeezed her eyes shut, and struck her own cheek once, hard.
An instant later, she looked up at Aya wearing an easy, sociable smile, like putting a mask back on.
“Sorry! For venting like that. Forget all of it.”
There probably weren’t many people who could just say “understood” and actually forget something after hearing all that.
Aya bit back the words “I’ll try,” closed her mouth, and thought back to the pained expression she’d glimpsed behind that pasted-on smile. She sighed and crossed her arms.
“I don’t have much more life experience than you do, Kayano, so I can’t give you any meaningful advice. But—”
She said this to Yuki, who was looking at her, puzzled.
“If venting it out makes things easier, I’ll listen. Come by whenever you feel like talking.”
Yuki stared at Aya’s face for a moment, stunned. It took her a while to process the words, and even once she had, still visibly shaken, she let her eyes wander with a half-laugh. Then, forcing a slightly playful expression and tone, she spoke up, deliberately bright.
“Why would you go that far for me? I might fall for you.”
Coming from someone who knew Aya was gay, the joke felt a little mean. Or if she meant it seriously, Aya wished she wouldn’t — because it made Aya want to take it a little seriously too. She shrugged and shot back.
“I don’t exactly want to keep listening to depressing stuff either, you know. It’s just — after hearing all that, there’s no forgetting it now. Even if I lived the rest of my life pretending to forget, ten years from now, walking past a hospital, it’d catch in my throat. I only want to eat fish with no bones in it. If something’s good, I want to eat it in one happy bite.”
Aya uncrossed her arms and tapped her own throat with one hand.
“Your worries are a fish bone stuck in my throat, Kayano. Save the thanks — a little consideration for how that feels would help more.”
Yuki opened and closed her mouth a few times, choosing her words. Eventually, she found the right ones.
“Thank you.”
Was she even listening? Aya swallowed the urge to ask and just nodded.
“You’re welcome. Okay, that’s enough heavy talk. This isn’t much of a refresh, is it.”
She stood up from the pipe chair as she said it, and Yuki, smiling naturally now, softly, said “yeah” and stood too.
Not that there was really anywhere to go, but a change of scenery seemed necessary regardless. Aya kicked the swing door open, stepped back out into the shop, and browsed the adult goods together with Yuki.
“So — did you use what you bought yesterday? How was it?”
The topic naturally shifted there.
Caught off guard by the sudden pivot, Yuki’s eyes went wide, her head jerking, and she let out a high, cracked “gh—” trying to change the subject. Her face flushed steadily hotter, cold sweat beading. Aya, feeling a little bad for asking, considered changing topics — but figured it was a little late for that now.
Yuki swallowed hard, then chose the path of baring her embarrassment.
“I—it was… really good. Yes.”
“Glad to hear it. That’s the best thing a referrer could hope for.”
Aya, pushing away a stray impure thought before it could fully form, answered sincerely.
“Like I mentioned yesterday, my dad’s pretty tight with a developer at the company that makes those. They send test samples over pretty often and he hands them out to acquaintances. I’ve met the guy a few times — he really cares about actual usage feedback. I’ll pass it along. Tell him it went over well.”
“Wow… that’s a little embarrassing, but… well, if it’s anonymous, I guess.”
Yuki said this, looking troubled, as if she felt she couldn’t refuse given how much they owed the shop’s connections. “Of course,” Aya nodded, scanning the shelves for other recommendations, when something caught her eye.
“Oh, right.”
She snapped her fingers and looked at Yuki, whose cheeks were still faintly pink. But then, about to say something, Aya froze mid-thought, and about five seconds of silence passed between them. Yuki tilted her head, puzzled, and Aya, grimacing, shook her head.
“Never mind, forget it.”
“Wait, no, now I’m really curious. I can’t just let that go.”
“No, it was kind of an inappropriate thing to bring up. Please forget it.”
“Given where this conversation’s already gone, it’s probably something ecchi, right? A little late to hold back now, isn’t it?”
Yuki pressed, impatient, and Aya groaned, arms crossed, conflicted.
It was true it was a sexual topic, and given the setting, it might not really warrant this much hesitation anymore. Still, given that Aya was into women, maybe this was something to steer clear of — “eh, whatever,” Aya decided, cutting the thought off, and lightly tapped her own chest.
“When you go solo, Kayano — do you touch up top too?”
For a moment, Yuki tilted her head, not even grasping the intent, let alone the meaning, of the question.
But then — the word “when you go” and what it implied, combined with where Aya had tapped, and the word “up top,” and finally, the item Aya’s eyes had lingered on a moment ago — it all connected, and her face exploded with color. Yuki’s face went bright red; she hastily crossed her arms over the small swell under her hoodie, tucking one hand into her sleeve to hide part of her face, eyes darting away.
“Wh-what are you talking about?”
Her voice cracked. Her face was almost pitiably red. Apparently, yes, she did.
Aya, keeping herself deliberately composed, picked up one of the products like a salesperson making a pitch. It was a women’s adult item — a device worn on the chest to stimulate erogenous zones hands-free.
“So actually, that supplier I mentioned earlier also makes this series. A prototype of an unreleased new model just came in. Fully safety-tested, of course. Usually my dad passes these to people he’s close with, and they use them with their partners — interested?”
Given how relatively businesslike the framing was, Yuki blinked, a little thrown.
Then her eyes moved to the box in Aya’s hand, and she held her breath reading the copy printed on it. She seemed to be deliberating. Sensing this, Aya offered one more nudge.
“Supposedly the quietest in the whole series. Compact too.”
Yuki squirmed, conflicted, eyes darting everywhere. One more push.
“Since it’s a prototype and not a regular sample, if you’re even a little interested, it’d help them if you gave feedback.”
Given that justification, being as sharp as she was, Yuki probably decided that accepting it under those terms was the least indecent option available. She looked up and off to the side with a deliberately casual “ahh,” and then, affecting resignation, said “well, I guess,” lowering the arms that had been hiding her chest and face, crossing them instead in front of her stomach.
“If that’s the case, sure. I’d be happy to help out, I guess.”
“Great. I think the supplier will be happy too — thanks.”
Aya went back behind the counter and pulled out the prototype, wrapped in a plastic bag. She jotted a short note to her father on a sticky note and put it into one of the shop’s paper bags.
On the other side of the counter, watching this, Yuki looked down, embarrassed.
“Is it weird? That I’d touch there too?”
“…Not really? If it were some extreme minority thing, they wouldn’t sell products for it. I touch and get touched there too, when I was with my girlfriend. I don’t think it’s weird.”
“I see,” Yuki said, sounding both relieved and a little surprised, apparently satisfied.
Aya deliberately took her time sealing the paper bag, and once Yuki seemed to have settled down, handed it over with a reminder — “don’t drop it” — and Yuki accepted it with a formal “of course.”
With the transaction complete, the two of them fell silent, looking at each other.
Normally, once a customer had their purchase, they’d leave — but Yuki, looking apologetic, seemed to be searching for words, as if she wanted to stay a little longer. Aya, catching this from her small, murmured “um,” rested an elbow on the counter and kept her tone light, so as not to make her feel self-conscious.
“You’re not about to say you’re leaving already, are you? It’s dead in here without customers.”
She said it with a crooked smile, and Yuki’s smile bloomed back at her like a flower.
“No, not at all! It’s dead for me too, though.”
Whether she realized it or not, Yuki was practically humming, tapping a rhythm with her heel, upbeat. Good — apparently Aya had picked the right words.
“Oh, but be careful about your last train, okay? I’m sure it’s fine, but.”
There were probably still hours before the last train, so it was probably an unnecessary worry, but Aya said it just in case. Yuki, holding the paper bag in one hand, made a V-sign with the other.
“I’ll be fine. My place is like two stations from here. Worst case, I can walk.”
“Oh, that close? You should’ve said so sooner. Makes it easier to just call you over.”
At that distance, she could call Yuki over much more casually — a conversation partner for slow nights. Though, distance aside, Yuki did have studying to worry about.
“…Though I guess you’re usually busy studying, huh.”
Realizing that “easy to call over” might have been a bit dismissive of that, Aya started to walk it back, but Yuki, seeming to sense the consideration behind it, softened, smiling.
“Studying isn’t just gluing yourself to a desk. Breaks and sleep matter too, for efficiency’s sake. Though — in exchange, when I am home, it’s basically nonstop studying.”
Picturing a lifestyle she didn’t even want to imagine, Aya looked at her with something like sympathy, and Yuki peered back into her eyes.
“What about you? Isn’t it hard, working all those shifts?”
“I do it because I want to. Since I quit the club there’s nothing else on my schedule, I get paid for it, and the shifts are pretty flexible. In an emergency, I can even close the corner myself if I need to.”
“That’s a lot of discretion. Your dad must really trust you.”
“Depends how you look at it — could just be neglect. But yeah, we get along well, I think.”
Yuki watched Aya say this with a fond, narrowed gaze, then started searching for a new topic.
Suddenly, as if remembering something, her eyes fixed on a point in the distance, and she pulled out her phone, looking down at it. Aya watched silently, wondering what was up, as Yuki, looking troubled, covered her mouth with the hand holding the paper bag while searching for something with the other, and eventually looked up.
Their eyes met, and for a few seconds Yuki’s gaze bounced between the screen and Aya, like someone lost on the road. Aya heard her swallow hard. Yuki looked away, anxious, fell silent for a moment, then finally managed a simple “so, um—.” “Yeah,” Aya said, prompting her along.
“There’s this movie I’ve been wanting to see.”
At that, Aya already understood about ninety percent of what she was about to say. But it felt cruel to sweep away words someone had clearly worked up the nerve to say. She pretended not to notice and nodded with an “oh yeah?”
“I’ve got allowance to spare, so I’ll cover it — um, want to… go see it together?”
She’d expected this, more or less, but hearing it directly still landed with more surprise than she’d anticipated. Aya stared at Yuki for a moment, a little dazed, then murmured “a movie, huh,” and pushed herself up off the counter.
“Sure, I don’t mind. I like movies.”
Yuki, visibly relieved, hand on her chest, broke into a grin and nodded. “Good.”
“But. I’m paying for my own ticket.”
“Oh — right. Sorry, that was kind of a weird thing to suggest.”
“More importantly, when? I’ve got plans right after this today, so that’s tricky.”
If it were a late show she might just make the last screening, but unfortunately she already had somewhere to be. As Aya checked her phone’s calendar, Yuki looked mildly curious about that.
“Is it — the person you mentioned?”
Pretty sharp, apparently. Aya nodded.
“Yeah. Ex-girlfriend. Just a friend now, so don’t worry about it.”
Being gay meant outings with female friends sometimes required a certain amount of care, but there was no need to bring that into a movie outing with Yuki. She was completely single these days, after all.
“Got it, okay. I’ll message you once I’ve worked out a date.”
Yuki said this after checking her schedule, unable to hide her excitement.
“If you can give me two days’ notice it’s easier for me to clear time. Thanks.”
“Yeah. — Alright, good time to head out, so I’ll get going.”
Yuki tucked her phone away in her pocket like she was carefully packing away a promise she’d just secured, smiled, and gave a small wave. Aya, feeling a little wistful, waved back and offered a fittingly shopkeeper-ish “come again.” Yuki took the words in happily and gave a bigger wave back.
“See you.”