“May we speak with Momo, please?” Satomi asked with a polite bow. Emi stood behind her peering around her body at the art class she’d been led to. While her art class back in Tottori had consisted of roughly nine ratty drawing pads and some dried pens the art class here was like an entire studio. Or more to the point, several studios. The main room was dedicated to painting while there was another section dedicated to ink drawing and a third designed toward sculpture and possibly more areas hidden behind sliding doors.

“Ah, yes,” the teacher nodded, glancing curiously at Emi before turning her attention back to the taller girl. “Momo is sculpting now. Let me take you there.”

“We are most grateful,” Satomi bowed again. She and Emi followed the teacher past the students painting and over to the section dedicated to sculpting.

Emi wasn’t sure what someone named Momomoo would look like, but she didn’t expect the small creature hunched over a mass of clay. Emi imagined anyone with a cow sound in her nickname (at least she hoped it was a nickname and not a product of the poor animal’s parents despising her and saddling her with an untenable name her entire life) would not be quite as tiny and delicate. Even compared to her own quite modest height Momo was tiny. She wasn’t sure, but even Saki was most likely taller than the girl in front of her.

“Momo?” The teacher prompted the girl gently when she remained oblivious to their presence. She slowly turned around and blinked at the three of them standing there. The girl’s eyes seemed almost too big for her tiny face and her dark, wavy hair was pulled to either side in long twin tails.

“Oh,” the girl said. “Momo did not hear you.” Her dark eyes shifted to Emi and Satomi, brushing over Emi and fixing at a point somewhere above and to the right of Emi’s head, she nodded to the taller girl. “Gokigenyou, Oppai-sama.”

“Momo,” the teacher gently admonished, “we discussed this before, didn’t we?” Momo tilted her head to the side rather rakishly, as if expecting whatever they’d discussed to rattle free and present itself. Assuming correctly that whatever they’d discussed before had been subsequently forgotten, the teacher continued patiently. “It’s not a good idea to refer to people by bodily features, Momo.”

“Momo understands,” the girl nodded, her voice sleepy and monotone.

“Momo, we were wondering if we could ask a favor of you,” Satomi soldiered on, despite the fierce blush coloring her cheeks.

“Are there many of you, Oppai-sama?” Momo asked, eyes never meeting anyone else’s. The teacher sighed and gave the pair an apologetic look before returning to the bulk of her students. “Have you been cloned?” Her eyes flashed for a moment with interest.

“No, Momo,” Satomi’s jaw clenched slightly. “The Student Council.”

“Oh,” Momo nodded at them for a moment as if she was going to say something else, but simply stood, eyes gradually making their way down to the floor between Emi and Satomi as she stood in silence. What a peculiar creature, Emi thought to herself. Yes, she decided, she liked this bovine mammal.

“Would you be so kind as to be Miss Emi’s onee chan and show her around the school and help her get comfortable?” Satomi managed to continue despite the bland look on Momo’s face. Momo blinked slowly, her eyes flitting over Emi briefly before returning to the floor.

“Emi?” Momo asked curiously.

“That’s me,” Emi chirped, waving both hands in which she estimated to be a particularly genki greeting and giving her most winning smile.

“I think she’s older than Momo,” Momo bowed slightly in Emi’s direction. “Can Momo be her older sister if she is younger?”

“Well, age doesn’t matter in the sister system,” Satomi replied easily. “And you’ve been going to this school since first grade, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Momo acknowledged.

“So, I don’t see how your ages make a difference if you are going to be her friend and show her around, right?” Satomi drove the point home, clearly believing herself to be in the home stretch of winning the girl over to their cause.

“Ok,” Momo agreed blandly. “Momo will be Flatty chan’s imouto onee chan.”

“Wait, what?” Emi cocked an eyebrow quizzically.

“Momo is flat as well,” the girl explained, her voice never breaking from its sleepy cadence. “Flat is justice, Flatty chan.” Emi regarded the girl critically before smiling faintly. Yes, this small, sleepy animal was going to be great fun, Emi finally decided.

“Thank you so much, Momo!” Satomi breathed a sigh of relief as if a great weight had been passed from her shoulders to those of the younger girl.

“Momo is helpful, yes,” Momo nodded, glancing surreptitiously behind her at the lump of clay lying discarded on the platform behind her. “Would Flatty imouto onee chan like to see Momo’s latest and greatest creation?”

“We still have some time left in break, Miss Seto, it would probably be good to get to know your new friend, yes?” Satomi prompted helpfully. Emi could tell Satomi believed she had bitten off far more than she could chew when she offered to show Emi around and was now trying desperately to weasel out of having to do so. There was no hurry to these things, though, Emi decided. The Island of Lesbos wasn’t built in a day after all. There was volcanic activity and the whole life climbing out of the sea bits to take into consideration, and then getting the Greeks to wander over. If it was good enough for Sappho herself to wait a bit, it was good enough for Emi.

“Of course,” Emi grinned broadly at Satomi. “You are absolutely correct.”

“I’m in the same class so I’ll see you after lunch, then,” Satomi couldn’t hide the relief on her face any more than Emi could hide the slight smirk on her own.

“I’ll see you then,” Emi smiled warmly, waving at Satomi’s back.

“Here!” Momo said, lifting the lump with her small hands and bringing it close to Emi’s face.

“I see,” Emi peered at the lump closer, trying to figure out what it was. Though Emi never considered her imagination as lacking in any sort of way, she couldn’t thread the needle on the clay Rorschach three centimeters below her nose. “What is it, then?”

“Eternity,” Momo declared proudly, her voice nearly slipping from its lifeless cadence into an actual emotion but falling just short.

“Ah,” Emi peered at it again, still no closer to seeing the resemblance except in the most abstract way between the misshapen clay and the concept of eternity. “Uh…huh. Who knew, right?”