Phone calls from her parents meant only one thing now: pain. Every time she heard their voices through the phone, Misumi hoped they’d be telling her about a return trip from Europe, but instead, they only called to postpone. It made her so sick. So exhausted. There was no point in getting excited anymore, because she’d only be disappointed in the end. Sometimes, she’d even ignore their calls altogether, because they wouldn’t even take time to talk; they’d just deliver the necessary information and call it a day. By any standard, they were terrible at the one thing a mom and dad needed to be good at: parenting.

Before taking up her afterschool duty as the librarian’s assistant, Misumi lingered in the girl’s bathroom, reading a text from her mother after ignoring a call:

We’ll be staying another two months. Sorry, but we won’t make it for your birthday.

She wanted so badly to cry, but couldn’t. Once the tears started falling, they wouldn’t stop, and even if her parents were completely ignoring the most chaotic years of her life, she wouldn’t let them get the best of her. After all, Kenji was still there. She was doing well in all her classes. She had a house all to herself, and what kind of teenager wouldn’t like that?

Closing her phone and stuffing it in her pocket, Misumi looked at herself in the mirror, and the person staring back was a miserable version of what used to be a happy teenage girl.

“Who am I kidding?” she whispered. Her eyes wilted. “I’m not happy at all.”

And with a trembling breath, she quelled any trace of tears and walked away from the mirror, stepping into the hallway shortly thereafter.

Luckily, she could always take her mind off things at the school library. She would read books of all types, be it fiction or nonfiction, and somehow, rainy days like the current one were her favorite, since the whole world slowed down for a while to let the clouds pass. And, as a plus, Hanako and the other girls rarely bothered her there. In fact, they never did. Probably because they were too stupid to understand the value of reading.

When she settled in at the library, a few underclassmen were patrolling the shelves, looking for textbooks to help with one of their assignments, and aside from their whispers, the room was cozy and quiet. Rain drizzled slowly down the windows, trailing along the glass like a centipede, obscuring view of the courtyard beyond, which was laced in dismal shades of gray. The fresh earthy scent managed to reach her there since one of the windows was cracked open, and while reading through a book she’d read twice before, Misumi breathed in deeply through her nose. Finally, she had forgotten about her mother’s text.

“I wonder what Kenji’s up to now…”

Setting the book down, she laid both arms flat and rested her chin upon them, staring emptily at the windows. Outside, students were under umbrellas, leaving school in a hurry to get home. Only clubs remained now.

She sighed. “I hope he’s okay. Yuuto hurt him pretty bad the other day.”

For the past week, Kenji had been sleeping at her house, staying away from home for some reason, and though he wouldn’t say it, she knew it was because of his mom. She must have been bringing home her clients. Thinking about it, Misumi counted herself as lucky—maybe living an empty house was better than living in one incomplete. It was hard to imagine her parents divorcing and her mom diving into prostitution just to get by.

Wishing school would end so they could walk home together, she buried her face into the inside of her elbow and mumbled, “Please be okay. I’ll come find you in a little while.”

 

******

 

Just like always, the day ended with disaster.

Kenji was in the gymnasium, where Yuuto and his goons came looking for trouble. He had hoped to find privacy there, to find an opportunity to draw in his sketchbook, but just five minutes after the basketball team finished practice, he was interrupted by a gang of thugs. And to think he expected hostilities to ease up for a single afternoon—yeah, that was a mistake.

Naturally, they snagged his sketchbook and tore every page to shreds, though not before flipping through it and laughing at the drawings inside. He drew everything from scenery to people, and the person he drew most often was Misumi. He didn’t know why, but it was just so easy to sketch her from memory, and there were four or five completed pictures of her inside. Or at least there used to be.

After Yuuto destroyed the sketchbook, he took one of the pictures and crumpled it up, then grabbed Kenji by the collar and shoved the paper in his mouth.

“So…” the giant said. “…you like the Ishikawa girl. How cute. Maybe we’ll pay her a visit sometime, teach her what a real man looks like.”

In a rush, Kenji was thrown to the floor, and when he spat the paper out, he growled back at his attacker. “Don’t you dare touch her!”

Yuuto chuckled and crossed his muscular arms, once again staring down at Kenji. “Or what? You’ll draw a picture of me too? Face it, Oshimoto—you’re just a runt living in a lion’s world. You’ll never be able to take me or anyone else.”

Kenji steamed with anger, but he didn’t move. He was too scared. Too drained. There were so many of them that he couldn’t possibly put a scratch on a single one, let alone their leader. Therefore, as the volleyball team came bouncing in through a set of doors nearby, Kenji glared up at his worst enemy and knew he was protected for now. The violence stopped whenever other people were around.

“Looks like its your lucky day,” said Yuuto. “Now go on. Clean up this mess…bastard.”

On the gymnasium floor, Kenji watched as the group sauntered away from there, perfectly content with themselves for the afternoon. They had beaten their prey. Stomped him into the ground and made him feel worthless. What more could they ask for?

He pulled himself together and stood up, when he wiped the bitterness away and eyed the remnants of his sketchbook on the ground. Misumi’s picture was still intact, by crumpled to smithereens that it was pointless to hold on to.

“Just you wait…” he said, grabbing the paper and unfolding its creases. The picture of Misumi was totally distorted. “…I’ll hit back one day. And when I do, you’ll never come near me—or her—ever again.”

 

******

 

With they’re legs beneath the kotatsu, Kenji and Misumi watched a movie together—a timeless classic known as Mobster 4. Kenji loved everything about those films; their noir setting, classy suits and ties, the depth hidden in every line of dialogue, the Yakuza. He had memorized extensive parts of each movie, and while his eyes stayed glue to the screen, Misumi’s kept drifting onto him. After two hours, the credits rolled and she brought up an uncomfortable topic.

“You seem…off,” she stated. “Did something happen today? Was it Yuuto?”

Kenji laid back on the floor, arms behind his head as he gazed to the ceiling. He couldn’t let her know about what happened. All it would do is cause unnecessary worry.

“Not really,” he answered. “I camped out at the basketball court this afternoon, so he wasn’t able to find me.”

“Oh. Okay…”

As silence followed, Kenji knew something was bothering her, something that had gone unsaid for a while. “What about you?” he asked. “You’re quieter than usual. A lot quieter.”

Instead of answering, Misumi crept up from the kotatsu and wandered to the kitchen, leaving him behind without a word. What was that supposed to mean? If she was too afraid to answer, then something definitely happened at school. In response, Kenji followed her, growing more concerned with each second she stayed quiet.

The kitchen was a slender cutaway with cabinets on each wall, and Misumi was used to stocking the shelves and filling the fridge by herself. She had always been an incredible cook. However, on that night, there were few items useful for making food, and as Kenji stood in the doorway, she prompted:

“Wanna go out? I need to buy groceries.”

“S-Sure,” he answered. “But can you tell me what’s wrong first?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.”

After grabbing their jackets, they left her house together and faced the night air, which was haunted by a whispering chill. They could just barely see puffs of their own breath. And while walking together beneath the tawny glow of streetlamps, Kenji put both hands in his pockets and stared down at the sidewalk, thinking. Misumi did the same.

In the distance stood the Tokyo skyline, a sparkling mass of dark buildings, blinking towers, and shifting advertisements that screamed into the night with a neon blaze. Millions of people lived there, and yet the two of them only had each other.

“Mom texted me today,” Misumi stated abruptly. Kenji’s eyes snapped onto her. “Two months. They’re not coming home for another two months. Of course, by the time their supposed to come back, they’ll just cancel again. Like always.”

He wished there was some form of assurance or comfort to offer, but that would only be a lie. In reality, her parents most likely would cancel their flights again.

“Gotcha…” he muttered, bringing his eyes back to the ground.

“But it’s okay. I’m glad they’re gone.”

Kenji glanced back at her. “No you’re not. Everyone wants to be with their parents. There’s no reason to act strong around me—do that for the assholes at school.”

Suddenly, she came to a halt and wouldn’t take another step. Meanwhile, he took three more before turning around. In the silence that followed, a cool breeze caused him to shiver and Misumi remained there, quiet as a mouse, frozen like a statue.

“You coming?” he asked. “Groceries won’t buy themselves.”

And like a little kid reaching for her mother’s arms, Misumi walked forward and embraced him, wrapping her arms around him as she started to cry.

“H-Hey…w-wait a second…” he stuttered.

But she just kept crying, refusing to let go. “It’s so hard without them,” she said. Her voice was muffled as she wept into his shoulder. “Hanako and the other girls are so cruel and I can’t take it anymore. They’re always making fun of me. Pulling my hair. Saying mean things behind my back. And my parents don’t even know, but if they did, I feel like they wouldn’t care. You’re the only person who even talks to me, Kenji. Please don’t ever leave me like everyone else...”

Blushing, Kenji had no idea how to respond. They could talk about anything, but never had she been so direct or honest, and it was kind of…scary. He had no idea she was in so much pain, and in a gradual and nervous way, he put his arms around her, letting her cry into his shoulder for a while longer.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he asserted. “And that’s a promise.”

As her fists gripped the back of his coat, Misumi held him even tighter, as if he might drift away on the breeze and leave her alone by accident. However, he’d never let that happen. They were two of a kind. Best friends. If they were lonely, they’d be lonely together.

“Now come on,” he told her. After pulling away, she wiped her eyes and looked up at him, still sniffling away the tears. “You need groceries, right?”

Misumi nodded.

“Then let’s get going. I’m starving. Plus—it’s really freaking cold out here, and I’m itching to get back under the kotatsu, aren’t you?”