The classroom smells like chalk dust and summer sweat.
Third period, contemporary literature. The teacher is droning about Tanizaki when a folded note lands on my desk like a white butterfly.
I unfold it under the table.
Meet me on the roof after this period?
– Yui
My pulse jumps so hard I feel it in my teeth.
I glance back.
She's sitting three rows behind, pretending to take notes, but her ears are bright red.
I write one word on the corner of the paper and flick it back when the teacher turns to the board.
Okay.
The rest of the period is torture.
When the bell finally rings, I move before I can think myself out of it.
The rooftop door creaks open to blinding sunlight and wind that smells like the pool chlorine drifting up from below.
Yui is already there, standing by the chain-link fence, clutching the hem of her summer uniform skirt like it might fly away.
She turns when she hears me.
Her face is scarlet.
Yui
Hi…
Um. Thank you for coming.
I know this is sudden and weird and probably against every school rule
I close the door behind me.
Kiyoshi
It's okay.
She takes one shaky breath.
Yui
Kiyoshi-kun…
Will you go out with me this Saturday?
Like… a date.
A real one.
The words hang in the air between us, bright and terrifying.
I think of the gun in the drawer.
Of the coded diary.
Of the computer that asked if the real Kiyoshi was dead.
Of the boy whose name I'm wearing like borrowed skin.
Then I look at Yui—her trembling fingers, her eyes that have been watching me quietly for two years, her blush that started the first day she joined Literature Club and never quite went away.
I think:
If I'm only borrowing this life,
then let me borrow it for something gentle.
Kiyoshi
Yes.
I'd like that.
Her eyes go wide.
For a second she looks like she might actually faint.
Yui
R-really?!
I nod.
She makes the tiniest, happiest sound and covers her face with both hands.