“Akari, you need to come back home. Didn’t you think that you could upset our father with your actions?”

 

Those are the first words I hear from the mouth of the very particular individual that is speaking to my queen.

 

In reality, the relationship between the two is very obvious at first sight. 

They have the same black-purple hair colour, the same eyes and a big difference in height.

 

This boy is definitely taller than one metre and ninety centimetres. Is he going to keep growing?

How much are they feeding him, man?

That cannot be sustainable for the environment.

 

Akari will also grow for sure, but her maximum height will be one metre and seventy five centimetres.

I can laugh all I want at such a number, but let’s make it clear: it’s way taller than me during both of my lives so far.

 

Still, the main characteristic of this guy isn’t his last year uniform.

It’s not his extremely short, almost shaved hair.

It’s not even the bellicose and impulsive spirit he constantly emanates.

 

If it was for me, I’d say his highlight is the perverse smile his mouth hosts. Quite disgusting to say the least, but I’m biassed.

 

“Do you think I care about our father?!”

She dangerously lets out, calling a few cheers and gasps.

 

“Listen. If you keep hiding in such a stupid and juvenile manner, nothing will change. 

However, when you come back home you know what will happen.

Think of it.”

 

He seems to be talking wisely, but it’s just an impression.

 

“You’ve almost finished your money, Akari. 

You can’t stay in that hotel forever. 

Eventually you’ll have to come back. Keep this in mind.”

 

Dude, this guy is extremely threatening. Sadly, I can’t say anything for now.

 

“I just want you to come back as soon as possible.”

These words seem to close his statement.

 

If before he was furiously holding with ferocity and violence the cute little shoulders of my princess, he’s now calmed down quite a bit.

 

I’d even say his smile is now aware of having won. Such a piece of shit.

This can also be seen in Akari's defeated and disillusioned expression.

 

“What’s going on?” Miyuri asks me.

 

But she’s not the only person who would like to know, to say the least.

“I’m not sure.”

 

That’s a lie, but I wouldn’t want her private information to be spat out like this.

So, I’ll just feign ignorance. You can thank me later. With a kiss? Joking.

 

“Am I wrong or is that Sannohiro-san’s brother? Even if I’ve never seen him.”

 

“You’re not wrong. It seems like they don’t have the best of relationships.”

Heh, can’t relate this time. I was an only child as I am now, but I can totally imagine my brother hating the guts out of me.

 

“Until my money runs out, I won’t come back, Kohiro.”

These are the last and decisive words that Akari spits out, which don’t minimally influence the victorious attitude of the person in front of her.

 

“Fine by me.”

 

I want to keep listening to their lovely conversation, but at some point I see Miyuri’s expression change.

 

“What do you think of this?” She asks me.

 

“Of course, it’s not a good thing.” 

What should I say?

 

“But is it also a bad thing to be a little jealous of Sannohiro-san, even if it might be disrespectful to say it now?”

She lets out such words.

 

“Why would you be?” I say, but I can imagine it.

Oh, sweet innocent child. You don’t get it, do you?

 

“Because I’d like to be in her spot. After running away from home, someone is coming to order me to come back. 

It’s… sweet, in a sense.”

Ehh. If you were a bit more careful about what you wish for, Miyuri-san. 

You totally have no clue about the obvious implications of what’s being said.

 

Sparing no attention to the fairly narcissistic but sweetly so words of the person in front of me, I gaze at Akari-san again.

 

Her brother is gone now.

It’s only her standing still. 

This cafeteria is so silent now, isn’t it? Almost disrespectfully quiet.

 

But that might just be me. Because all I’m thinking about is that Sannohiro-san is gazing at me.

 

-=-

 

As I had promised Miyuri-san yesterday, today I found myself struggling inside of the multiple corridors and dark territories of this stupid school to reach the book club.

 

I feel like Odysseus coming back to my home, the most desirable place.

I just can’t wait! 

 

Try to guess Sofia Tanarako’s club, by the way? Easy difficulty.

Go home club.

 

So, as expected, she didn’t have any sense of direction inside of her mind to help me reach any club.

 

Miyuri, who maybe believes because of my great intuitive power that I am some sort of all-knowing deity, did not bother giving me directions.

I hate her. I hate her. I hate her.

 

Why? Because the lowly me, who is no deity, found herself in the darkest of journeys!

Basically, I spent a few minutes before realising that this place is even worse than I expected.

It seems like developers, having put all of their brain to create cool looking classrooms where important events happened, never really bothered creating a map thanks to logic.

 

So, after having heroically walked for half of the scholastic perimeter, I found it.

Am I excited? Well, obviously.

 

Sofia Akateyama might be dead, resting under a cute grave near a wild forest in the middle of rural Japan, but my undying love for literature lives on.

 

So, my surprise in entering is even bigger.

 

There are… four people?

O-only four?

 

I thought books were popular? What’s going on? Wrong room, maybe.

I’m a second away from closing it, but an expected person stops me right dead in my tracks.

 

“At last you came!”

 

Miyuri-san is faking excitement like no one’s business. 

I don’t think it’s that cute, but that might be because I’m used to the apathetic her that appears just two years later.

 

Yes, I still hate that character. But at least it’s a homely hate, because I know what I’m dealing with. You wouldn’t get it.

 

“It would be easier if you told me where this place was, Honomako-san. Don’t you think so?”

 

As a response, Honomako-san immediately covers her mouth with her hand as a sign of surprise.

 

“Oh, I forgot!”

She says, calling the attention of the other three students, three boys to be precise, who are reading together.

That only lasts a second, though.

 

Like moths, they soon turn to the light of their manga once again.

This is a strange room. There’s a big table that covers most of the room, which has at its opposite ends three and two seats.

 

As I get closer to the only free seat in this small room at the opposite side to the three boys who didn’t even bother with their names, I hear the voice of the person next to me, Miyuri-san.

 

“I lied… I just wanted to see how much you cared.”

It’s a whisper.

 

...Really? Well, I care about my wasted time just enough to kill you in cold blood. One day, one day…

 

“Anyway, I’ll tell you who she is!" She suddenly screams out like a banshee.

 

"Her name is Sofia Tanarako! She’s in my class. 

She has a great passion for books, especially for–”

 

She uses a second to read the title of the book I had brought with myself, carefully chosen in Tanarako-san’s collection.

 

“Little Eyolf. I don’t know what that is.”

 

Out of the other four people in the room, only one widens their eyes.

It’s the boy in the middle, brown hair and eyes and a normal face.

I flash him a knowing smile. He smiles back.

He knows, doesn't he?

 

Despite my introduction, nobody of the three guys still chooses to tell me their names. Now I know why Miyuri-san chose this club.

It's her perfect utopia.

 

“Did accomplish your task, Honomako-san?”

 

“Yes… but I don’t– don’t think it is–”

 

“Shut up and let me see it.”

 

Sorry! My anger leaked out. Little spoiled kid!

 

It’s obvious that there would be complaints of this sort, just as there had been the day prior. 

But today I need all the time I can take, so I don’t plan on wasting any! Just shut up.

 

The poem is on a pathetic piece of paper which has been thoroughly ripped from a random notebook. But her handwriting is cute and small.

 

Rather than focusing on how it’s written, though, I find its contents much more interesting.

 

“What do you think about it?”

 

She immediately asks me such a thing. What’s up?

Are you embarrassed?

I too would be. 

 

“Well. It’s totally not bad as a first try, but your poem seems a bit like prose.” I tell her.

 

What? Did you think I’d fix your problems? I’ll judge your style.

Ironically, she seems to be quite disillusioned afterwards.

 

“If you want to listen to me talking about its meaning, I won’t do that until you find a great way to represent it.”

 

“What’s the difference between prose and poetry?”

Exasperated, she asks me.

 

“Well. When an author writes prose, it’s obvious they want to represent motives and reasons behind actions.”

 

I start telling her that. She nods.

 

“When an author writes poetry, those are superfluous.

If your poetry wants to appeal to more people than just you, don’t try to explain it.”

 

Those are the things they told me when I started writing.

As such, I’ll repeat them just as they have been repeated to me.

There are many views to interpret the difference between lines and pages, but this is what I’m most used to.

 

“Just let them understand how you feel. If there’s truth inside, the reader will surely understand more than you’d expect."

“I– that’s embarrassing!”

She finally admits it! I won’t deny it’s a pleasure on my end to watch her face become redder and redder.

I don’t know why other people inside of this room don’t appreciate it at all.

 

“I know. But you won’t ever be honest to others if you find it embarrassing to be yourself.”

 

Those words finally touch her soul. I’ve said better stuff, but I’m glad this one worked.

 

“So, the meaning–”

 

“I can easily not mention some things. Doesn’t mean I don’t see them.”

Let time pass.

“Even if you hate books, read more. Eventually, if your feelings are sincere, a masterpiece will come out.”

 

Since at her core Miyuri is very ingenuous, I find no harm in saying this. I have elaborate plans, but they need time.

So read as much as you can, won’t you? 

Take the easy way, at least for now. Soon, you won’t be blocked between these two choices.

 

“I’ll be here tomorrow. I’ll be here every day, actually.”
I say such a thing, but her happiness doesn’t seem to be growing.

What, are you not excited to have someone to talk to? No matter.

 

“So, prepare another poem for tomorrow.”

 

Having said those things, I finally sit down.

Saying beautiful things is, as tradition, only possible when you’re standing up.

 

“Tanarako-san. Maybe you’re not the person I thought you were until now.”

After some seconds, these words are said by Miyuri-san. She is now just as embarrassed as me. This character is well thought out, isn't it? 

Never thought I'd say it, but I wouldn't mind if you were my friend.

 

At the end, you aren’t the person I thought you were either!

But I won’t say it straight to your face!

Is my face red? Who knows.

 

“In a positive sense?” I just ask.

 

“Who knows. Maybe.” She admits. "Now, just shut up! I've talked more than enough for today."