Episode Four

My head felt heavy.

After getting out of the bath last night I’d tried to sit back down at my desk, but I couldn’t concentrate. I must have gone to bed earlier than usual and still barely slept.

The light coming through the curtains felt irritating today in a way it normally didn’t. I crawled out of bed and reached for the door handle, then stopped.

What if I walked out and ran straight into Ao? I had no make-up on, my hair was a mess, and there was no way I could let her see me in this ridiculous pyjama top with the enormous cat face printed across it.

I let out a sigh, pulled off my shirt, and took my uniform down from the wall. First sigh of the day, though who could say how many more were coming. I’d like this to be the last.

I slipped out of my room as quietly as I could so as not to wake Ao next door, and made my way to the bathroom. A quick face wash, a minimal pass with a comb, and back to my room.

Sitting in front of the small mirror on my desk, I went through my usual light make-up routine and ran the straightener lightly through my hair. My fringe had grown out from missing too many haircuts and it kept getting in the way. I didn’t particularly like it, but I pinned it back so it wouldn’t bother me and headed to the kitchen.

I don’t mind this part of the morning — standing in the quiet kitchen while the early light comes in, watching the empty lunchbox slowly fill with colour. There’s something satisfying about it.

That reminded me: what about Ao’s lunchbox? Shiho-san could use an old one of Dad’s, but for now Ao would just have to make do with one of my old ones.

Ao eating a lunch I made for her, in our classroom with everyone around. Just imagining it made me smile, but I couldn’t go around with a face like that. If Fuuka saw me she’d probably just say something like “gross.”

I stared into the fridge and turned over the options in my not-very-extensive repertoire.

I hadn’t actually asked if Ao even wanted a packed lunch, but having one was better than not. And if she didn’t want it, I could always eat it myself in the evening.

Four lunchboxes lined up today, where there were usually only two.

I put the sweet-and-savoury beef and burdock stir-fry front and centre, then packed in the spinach and bacon butter sauté and a sweet tamagoyaki. A few cherry tomatoes to finish. Not exciting, but it looked decent.

For a moment I wondered about cutting the tamagoyaki into heart shapes for Ao’s box, but I was probably still half asleep.

I was scooping rice into the boxes when the kitchen door opened.

“Morning, Yuna.”

“Mornin’.”

Dad shuffled in rubbing his eyes, his tie hanging loose around his neck over a white shirt. He opened the fridge, grabbed a can of coffee, and clocked the four neatly lined lunchboxes. A warmth crept into his voice.

“You made some for Ao-chan and her mum too.”

“Thank you. Really.”

He reached over and gave my head a gentle pat.

I’d made sure my hair was presentable in case Ao saw it, so I’d rather he not do that. That was my first thought — but the familiar feeling made my eyes soften in spite of myself.

“It’s nothing. It’s just normal.”

He took a sip of his canned coffee and kept his hand resting on my head.

“Maybe it’s normal for you. But not everyone can do what you do.”

“And — do you think you’ll be all right with Ao-chan? You’re in the same class, aren’t you?”

Well, of course he’d ask. He was my parent; naturally he’d be curious.

It was probably a casual question as far as he was concerned, but for me it turned out to be harder to answer than any problem in my textbooks.

I thought about it with a small groan for a moment, then forced something out.

“I’ll be fine.”

“It’s just… I don’t know, she’s so — Naga— Ao is such a sparkling sort of person. I get a bit nervous around her.”

I was mumbling and looking anywhere but at him, and Dad nodded back with exaggerated solemnity.

“I know exactly what you mean. I was never a stand-out type, so someone like Ao-chan — the class madonna — I’d still get nervous around her, even now.”

“Madonna? Isn’t that a bit old-fashioned?”

That landed. I sent him off to the bathroom with a stifled noise and turned back to finishing the lunches. As I was wrapping things up, unhurried footsteps came down the hall and Ao’s face appeared around the kitchen door.

“Morning, Onee-chan.”

Her hair, usually smooth and flowing without a strand out of place, was sticking up in little tufts here and there, giving her a childlike look. The pale white legs extending from her dolphin shorts caught the morning light coming through the kitchen window and seemed almost to outshine it.

So even Ao is like this in the mornings.

The unguarded morning version of the person I loved. A scene I’d dreamed of seeing, for so long. I felt the corners of my eyes threaten to blur, pressed it down, and looked away from her.

If I kept looking, the same ugly feeling from last night would start to grow again.

“Morning. Do you want breakfast?”

“Yeah. Onee-chan is so kind.”

With that, Ao drifted back out of the kitchen.

Maybe the face she showed at school was just the version she put on for the outside world, and at home she let herself unwind. The fact that she didn’t bother to put on a front felt very like her, I thought.

“I’m heading out soon — do you think you can get to the station on your own?”

“Probably fine. I’ve got the map.”

The drowsy answer floated back from somewhere in the house, and I felt a smile pull at my mouth before I could stop it.

“Okay. I’ll head to school ahead of you, then.”

“Mm. Have a good day~”

Ao’s voice followed me out to the front door. Not a cloud in the sky, no wind to speak of.

Whether this oddly buoyant feeling came from the weather, or just from it being Friday, I couldn’t quite say. Carrying a lightness I didn’t entirely recognise, I set off for school at an easy pace.