Chapter 1: a lovesick girl 001
The campus hallway smelled like industrial cleaner and yesterday's cafeteria tacos. Koyomi Tanaka bounced slightly on the balls of her feet, barely feeling the worn linoleum beneath her sneakers. Posters for the upcoming Spring Fling fluttered on the bulletin boards, a blur of bright colours as she walked.
"Okay, seriously Koyo," Hana Suzuki said, her voice cutting through the post-lunchtime chatter echoing off the high ceilings. She adjusted her oversized glasses, peering intently at her friend. "You cannot keep sighing dramatically every time you see Tamiko Sato across the quad. It's bordering on pathological."
Koyomi felt a familiar warmth flood her cheeks. "I wasn't sighing! I was... appreciating the architectural symmetry of the library pillars. Silently."
Hana snorted. "Right. And the fact that Tami 'The Tornado' Sato happened to be leaning against one of them, looking like she wants to kick its foundation in, was purely coincidental." She looped her arm through Koyomi's. "Sweetie, sunshine, my adorable little disaster magnet, she is danger. Like, 'campus security gives her a wide berth' danger. Like, 'rumor has it she once arm-barred a guy twice her size for breathing too loud in the quiet study zone' danger."
"But she's so... interesting," Koyomi sighed, the word escaping before she could stop it. She pictured Tamiko: the cascade of dark, unruly curls, the sharp angles of her face softened only slightly by unfairly long lashes, the way her worn band t-shirt stretched across her... "And misunderstood! Everyone just sees the scowl and the ripped jeans and the reputation. Maybe she just needs someone to be nice to her."
"Nice?" Hani choked out a laugh, pulling Koyomi to a stop near a bank of clanging lockers. "Koyo, being 'nice' to Tamiko Sato is like offering a wasp a hug. It doesn't end well for the hugger. Remember what happened to Kevin Cho? He tried to offer her his umbrella in the rain last semester."
"He got a black eye?" Koyomi murmured, recalling the gossip.
"Not just a black eye," Hani hissed, leaning closer. "He got the umbrella shoved somewhere anatomically improbable and spent the afternoon in the nurse's office explaining how he sat on it wrong. Violence is her love language, and it's a language you are not fluent in." She tapped Koyomi's nose. "Stick to sunshine and puppies. Safer."
Koyomi opened her mouth to argue, to explain the flicker of something unguarded she swore she’d seen in Tamiko’s dark eyes once, when she thought no one was looking. But a sudden, sharp jolt against her shoulder sent her stumbling sideways, her books slipping from her grasp with an embarrassing clatter onto the linoleum.
"Ow! Hey, watch where you're—" Hani snapped, turning sharply.
Koyomi looked up, her protest dying in her throat. Towering over her spilled textbooks stood Tamiko Sato. Up close, the sheer intensity was overwhelming. Her expression was pure thundercloud, dark eyes narrowed, full lips pressed into a thin, irritated line. Koyomi’s breath hitched. She smelled like cigarette smoke and faintly, strangely, like motor oil.
Beside Tamiko, Ash Kenji beamed. He was all sharp angles and chaotic energy, messy black hair flopping over one eye, a lazy, unnerving grin plastered on his face. He wore a faded hoodie with a suspicious dark stain near the pocket and held a cheap lighter, flipping it open and closed with a rhythmic click-click-click. "Whoopsie daisy!" he chirped, his voice laced with amusement. "Bit of a pile-up. My bad. Mostly."
Tamiko didn’t look at Ash. Her glare was fixed on Koyomi, who was still frozen, crouched awkwardly beside her fallen books. "The hell is your problem?" Tamiko spat, her voice low and raspy, like gravel scraped over concrete. "Walking around like a lost puppy with its head in the clouds? Get a clue. Or better yet, get out of the damn way." She nudged Koyomi’s Anatomy textbook with the toe of her scuffed combat boot.
Hani bristled, stepping protectively in front of Koyomi, her eyes flashing. "Excuse us? You slammed into her! Maybe take your own advice and watch where your delinquent self is stomping—"
Koyomi shot up, frantic. "Hani, no!" She placed a placating hand on her friend's arm, then turned her full attention back to Tamiko. Tamiko’s knuckles, Koyomi noticed distractedly, were slightly reddened, like she’d scraped them recently. "I'm so sorry!" Koyomi blurted, her voice bright and sincere despite the frantic pounding of her heart. She offered Tamiko a small, earnest smile. "Really, truly sorry! We weren't paying attention. My fault entirely. Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"
The effect was immediate and… strange. Tamiko blinked. Just once. Her scowl faltered for a fraction of a second, replaced by a flicker of pure, unadulterated confusion. It was as if Koyomi had just spoken to her in fluent dolphin. She stared at Koyomi like she was a particularly baffling insect that had landed on her toast.
Ash, however, threw his head back and laughed – a loud, genuine sound that bounced off the tiles. "Oh, that's gold!" he wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. He nudged Tamiko hard. "Did you hear that, Tami? She apologized! To you! For your stompy feet!" He grinned at Koyomi, his dark eyes glittering with unholy amusement. "You're a weird little thing, aren't you? I like it. Keep it up. Might be entertaining." He clicked his lighter. Fwoosh. A tiny, perfect blue flame danced for a second before he snapped it shut. "See? Fun."
Tamiko recovered quickly, her confusion hardening back into disdain, but it seemed… less focused than before. She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans, shoulders hunched defensively. "Whatever," she muttered, the word thick with dismissal, but lacking its usual venomous edge. She shot Koyomi one last, unreadable look – less anger, more wary disbelief – then shouldered past her, deliberately knocking Hani slightly as she went. "Move."
Ash winked at Koyomi, still chuckling. "Later, Sunshine. Try not to trip over any more existential crises." He flicked the lighter open and closed one more time, a rhythmic, unsettling click… click… click, then sauntered after Tamiko, already starting some loud, nonsensical story about squirrels and rocket fuel.
Hani immediately whirled on Koyomi, her face flushed with outrage. "Koyomi Tanaka! What the ever-loving heck was that? You apologized? To her? For her being a human wrecking ball? She almost knocked you over! And Ash Kenji! He just lit a fire! In the hallway! Did you see that? He's probably planning to burn down the library later 'for giggles'!"
Koyomi ignored Hani’s tirade for a moment, slowly bending to gather her scattered books. Her fingers trembled slightly as she brushed dust off the cover of her Anatomy text. She watched Tamiko’s retreating back, the rigid set of her shoulders, the dark curls bouncing with each determined stride. Ash skipped beside her, gesturing wildly.
That flicker of confusion on Tamiko’s face… It was a crack. Tiny, barely there, but real. Koyomi had seen it. She hadn't lashed out. Not really. She hadn't called Koyomi names (well, beyond the 'lost puppy' thing, which Koyomi decided to take as… observational). She’d just seemed… wrong-footed.
Hani grabbed Koyomi’s arm, shaking her gently. "Earth to Koyomi! Did the collision scramble your brains? Are you concussed? Do I need to call campus medics?"
Koyomi finally looked at her best friend, her earlier blush receding, replaced by a stubborn, quiet certainty. She squeezed Hani’s hand. "I'm fine, Hani. Really." She straightened up, hugging her books to her chest. "And I meant it. Kill them with kindness, right?" She offered Hani a small, determined smile, the image of Tamiko’s momentarily stunned expression burned into her mind. "Especially the storms."
Hani stared at her, mouth agape. "Koyo… sunshine… that storm doesn't get killed with kindness. That storm eats kindness for breakfast and spits out the bones." She sighed dramatically, dragging a hand down her face. "You're going to get yourself pulverized. Or set on fire. Or both. And Ash Kenji will probably just film it."
Koyomi just hummed, already walking again, her gaze drifting back towards the end of the hall where Tamiko and Ash had disappeared around a corner. The click-click-click of the lighter still seemed to echo faintly in the air. The hallway chatter swelled around them, the thud of locker doors, the distant drone of a professor’s voice. But Koyomi Tanaka walked with a new, quiet purpose. She’d seen the crack. Now she just needed to find the chisel. And maybe a fire extinguisher. Just in case.
The fluorescent lights in Professor Henderson's lecture hall buzzed like angry bees trapped inside Koyomi’s skull. Economics. Supply curves. Marginal cost. Her brain felt like overcooked noodles. She doodled a tiny, determined sunbeam in the corner of her notebook, its rays valiantly trying to pierce a scribbled storm cloud. Hana, beside her, was already meticulously colour-coding notes with highlighters, radiating ‘responsible student’ vibes.
"Alright, settle down," Professor Henderson boomed, silencing the low murmur. He adjusted his glasses, peering over them. "As we approach mid-terms, it's time for the group project. Fifteen percent of your final grade. Partner up, two per group. Topic details are on the portal. Choose wisely."
A ripple of movement went through the room. Chairs scraped, voices rose in a cheerful cacophony of negotiation. Hana immediately nudged Koyomi. "Usual suspects?" she asked, already packing her bag, confident in their longstanding partnership.
"Absolutely!" Koyomi chirped, starting to gather her own things. Hana was her academic rock, her buffer against confusing graphs and terrifying professors.
Just then, Liam Chen slid into the empty seat Hana had just vacated. He had a nice smile and always smelled faintly of cedarwood. "Hey Koyomi," he said, running a hand through his neatly styled hair. "Looking for a partner? I heard you crushed the last quiz. Figured maybe we could… you know, combine brainpower?"
Koyomi blinked. Liam was smart. And nice. And definitely not a known physical hazard. This was sensible. Safe. Exactly what Hani would approve of. She opened her mouth, the polite ‘Sure, Liam!’ almost formed on her lips.
Her gaze, almost of its own volition, drifted past Liam’s shoulder.
There. Three rows back and to the left. Slouched so low in her seat she was practically horizontal, Tamiko Sato stared at her phone, the harsh blue light washing over her sharp features. Her expression was a masterpiece of bored contempt. One boot rested on the empty seat beside her. The seat specifically designated for a partner. It screamed ‘KEEP OUT’ in neon.
Everyone else was pairing off quickly, forming little islands of collaboration. Laughter, exchanged numbers, plans for study sessions. Tamiko remained an isolated monolith of disinterest. No one approached her. Koyomi doubted anyone even dared to glance her way for too long.
The sensible ‘Sure, Liam!’ died instantly in Koyomi’s throat. A reckless, sunshine-fueled determination surged, drowning out Hani’s warnings, Liam’s cedarwood scent, and even the buzzing fluorescents.
"Actually, Liam," Koyomi said, her voice suddenly a little too bright, her smile feeling stretched. "I'm so sorry, I just remembered... I promised someone else! Last minute thing! Really sorry!" She grabbed her bag, ignoring Liam's confused blink and Hana's sharp intake of breath beside her.
"Koyo, what are you—" Hani hissed, but Koyomi was already weaving through the shifting bodies, clutching her notebook like a shield.
She stopped beside the empty seat. Tamiko didn't look up. Her thumbs moved rapidly over her phone screen, probably texting Ash something alarming.
Koyomi took a steadying breath that did nothing to calm the frantic drumming in her chest. "Tamiko?" Her voice sounded small in the noisy room.
Nothing. Not even a twitch.
"Tamiko?" Louder this time, forcing cheerfulness. "Hey!"
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Tamiko tilted her head. Up came the dark, guarded eyes, framed by those impossible lashes. They scanned Koyomi from her slightly messy ponytail down to her sensible sneakers, landing back on her face with undisguised irritation. "What?"
Koyomi beamed, pouring every ounce of her sunshine energy into it. "Do you have a partner yet? For the project?"
Tamiko stared. The sheer bafflement on her face was almost comical, quickly morphing back into that familiar scowl. "Seriously? No. And it's staying that way. Buzz off, Sunshine." She deliberately looked back down at her phone, a clear dismissal.
Koyomi didn't budge. Her knuckles were white on her notebook. "C'mon, Tamiko! Everyone needs a partner! We could work together! I'm actually pretty good at finding sources, and—"
"Did I stutter?" Tamiko snapped, finally looking up again, her voice a low, dangerous rasp. The scowl deepened, etching lines between her brows. "No. Means no. Go bother someone who enjoys terminal optimism. Like a golden retriever."
Koyomi felt a hot flush creep up her neck. The eyes of nearby students were starting to flicker towards them. She could practically feel Hani’s horrified stare burning into her back. This was the part where, according to all known Tamiko-Sato-interaction protocols, she should retreat. Fast.
Instead, she leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice. Please, Tamiko? Please?" The pleading was soft but insistent. "I don't want to fail the project. And... and you look like you could use some help organizing? Maybe?" She injected a hopeful note, her big, earnest eyes wide. "Just partners? Strictly business? We don't even have to talk about sunshine or puppies! I promise!"
Tamiko’s lip curled. She looked like she'd just inhaled something foul. She glanced around, probably checking if anyone was witnessing this bizarre spectacle. Her jaw tightened. Koyomi could almost see the internal battle: utter revulsion at the idea versus the growing nuisance of this persistent, pink-cheeked girl who wouldn't take a blunt 'no' for an answer. The noise of everyone else happily partnering up seemed to grate.
Finally, Tamiko let out a sharp, exasperated sigh through her nose, like a bull about to charge. "Fine! Whatever! Shut up about it!" She slammed her phone down on the desk with a loud crack that made several students jump. "Partners. But you breathe a word about feelings or rainbows, and I will staple your tongue to this desk. Got it?"
Relief, pure and giddy, washed over Koyomi. She ignored the graphic threat. "Got it! Strictly economics! Thank you, Tamiko!" Her smile could have powered the lecture hall.
Tamiko just snatched her phone back up, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "fucking sunshine plague" under her breath. She deliberately angled her body away from Koyomi.
Koyomi triumphantly slid into the empty seat beside her, ignoring its lingering aura of 'keep out'. She pulled out her notebook, her pen poised. The supply curve suddenly seemed fascinating. Hana, across the room, slowly lowered her face into her hands. Koyomi gave her a tiny, reassuring wave. What could possibly go wrong?
As if summoned by the sheer cosmic absurdity of the situation, the fire alarm chose that precise moment to shriek, a piercing, relentless wail that drowned out all other sound. Red lights flashed near the exits. People scrambled, grabbing bags, confusion turning to a steady stream towards the doors.
Tamiko didn't move. She just looked supremely pissed off. Koyomi, caught mid-sunbeam-doodle, hesitated.
Then Ash Kenji materialized beside their row, his grin unnervingly wide in the strobing red light. He leaned casually against the end seat, holding a slightly smoking, crushed soda can. "Whoops," he chirped, his voice cutting through the alarm. "Must've been faulty wiring. Totally random. Nothing to do with the thermite experiment in my bag. Promise." He winked directly at Koyomi. "Good luck with the project, Partner-Sunshine! Tami, play nice! Or don't. More fun that way." He tossed the smoking can vaguely towards a trash bin (it missed) and sauntered off with the evacuating crowd, humming tunelessly.
Tamiko finally pushed herself up, her expression thunderous. "Kenji, I swear to god..." she growled, then shot Koyomi a look that promised imminent violence if she dared comment. "Move, Sunshine. Fire drill. Or maybe just Kenji being Kenji." She shoved past, heading for the exit, leaving Koyomi blinking in the flashing crimson haze, the smell of burnt metal and Ash's unsettling promise hanging in the air alongside the shrieking alarm.
The fire drill dissolved into damp, milling chaos on the quad. Rain slicked the pavement, reflecting the grey sky and the flashing lights of a campus security cart. Students huddled under dripping trees or ran for drier buildings, their chatter a rising hum against the persistent wail of the alarm.
Koyomi spotted her quarry almost immediately. Tamiko stood apart, leaning against the rough bark of an ancient oak, looking like she wanted to set the rain itself on fire. Ash was nowhere to be seen – probably off collecting evidence for his next "accident." This was Koyomi’s moment. Before Hani could latch onto her arm and drag her to safety, Koyomi darted through the puddles, her backpack bouncing.
"Tamiko!" Koyomi skidded to a stop, slightly breathless, raindrops clinging to her eyelashes. "About the project!"
Tamiko didn’t turn her head. "What about it?" The words were flat, colder than the rain.
"We need to coordinate! To meet! To… exchange numbers?" Koyomi infused the question with maximum sunny optimism, practically vibrating with it. "So we can figure out when and where to work?"
A slow, incredulous turn. Tamiko’s dark eyes narrowed, scanning Koyomi like she’d sprouted a second, even more annoying head. "No."
"Professor Henderson said partners have to coordinate schedules off-campus too! It’s in the rubric! Section five, subsection B!" Koyomi blurted, clutching her bag tighter. Was there a subsection B? She had no idea. Desperation fueled her fabrication.
Tamiko just stared, rainwater tracing paths down her sharp cheekbones. The silence stretched, filled only by the fading alarm and the drumming rain.
"Please?" Koyomi pushed, taking a tiny step closer. She summoned her biggest, most pleading eyes. "Just a number? So I can text you about times? You pick! Anywhere! Library, coffee shop, the moon…?" She trailed off, realizing lunar meetings might be a stretch. "Please, Tamiko? Fifteen percent!"
Tamiko’s jaw worked. She looked like she was chewing glass. With a sound somewhere between a groan and a snarl, she shoved a hand deep into the pocket of her soaked jeans and yanked out a cheap, cracked phone. She thrust it towards Koyomi, screen dark. "Put it in. Make it fast."
Victory! Koyomi fumbled with her own phone, fingers clumsy with cold and excitement. She tapped her number into Tamiko’s phone, then held hers out. "Now yours? So I can text you?"
Tamiko glared at the offered device like it was contaminated. Finally, with exaggerated slowness, she stabbed her number onto Koyomi’s screen, her thumb movements aggressive and precise. She snatched her own phone back the millisecond Koyomi finished. "Done. Don’t blow it up." She turned away, effectively dismissing Koyomi and the entire conversation.
"Okay! Great! Thank you!" Koyomi chirped, clutching her phone like a holy relic. She beamed at Tamiko’s rigid back, already mentally decorating their study space with metaphorical motivational posters. "I’ll text you later with ideas!"
Tamiko didn’t respond. She just stared out at the rain, a dark, wet statue radiating 'leave me the hell alone'. Koyomi bounced back towards the covered walkway where Hani stood, soaking wet and radiating disapproval like a damp furnace. Koyomi didn’t care. She had the number. The project – and maybe a tiny crack in the storm – was on.
Koyomi’s living room floor was a sea of open textbooks, highlighted printouts, and meticulously arranged markers. She’d cleared the coffee table, laid out snacks (healthy and sugary, to cover all bases), and even put on some soft acoustic music she hoped wasn’t too annoyingly cheerful. 4:00 PM. Project time. Tamiko’s address – a small house on Maple Street, just off campus – was plugged into her phone.
She’d texted Tamiko three times since getting home:
> 2:15 PM: Hi Tamiko! It’s Koyomi :) Excited to work on the project! My place is ready anytime after 4! Let me know when you’re coming?
> 3:00 PM: Hey Tamiko! Just checking in about meeting? I’m at my apartment whenever you’re free!
> 3:45 PM: Tamiko? Everything okay? Ready whenever you are! :) My address is 221 Cedar Lane Apt 3B!
Silence. Absolute, deafening silence. Not even the ominous grey dots indicating typing. 4:15 PM. Koyomi refreshed her messages. Nothing. She paced the small living room, stepping carefully over her carefully laid-out project kingdom. Had Tamiko forgotten? Had she deliberately given a fake number? Was she lying unconscious somewhere after an altercation involving Ash and a misguided experiment?
4:30 PM. The sugary snacks looked less appealing. Koyomi chewed her lip. She wasn’t getting stood up. Not by Tamiko Sato. Not after the Herculean effort of getting that number. Stubbornness, a trait usually buried deep beneath the sunshine, bubbled up like molten lava. If the mountain wouldn’t come to Koyomi…
Five minutes later, Koyomi was shoving textbooks, her laptop, and a packet of Oreos (emergency bribery) into her oversized tote bag. She pulled on her bright yellow raincoat – the drizzle had persisted – and marched out the door, a determined glint in her eyes that would have made Hani faint. She plugged Tamiko’s address into her ride-share app. Operation Storm Chaser: Commence.
Maple Street was quiet, lined with modest bungalows sporting small, tidy gardens. Tamiko’s address led to a house painted a faded blue, with white trim and a slightly lopsided porch swing. It looked… unexpectedly normal. Koyomi took a deep breath, adjusted her tote bag strap digging into her shoulder, and marched up the short walkway. She pushed the doorbell, its melodic chime echoing strangely loud in the damp evening air.
Footsteps approached – light, quick. The door opened, revealing not Tamiko’s scowling face, but a woman who seemed spun from sunshine and soft wrinkles. She was small, with silver hair pinned neatly in a bun, wearing a floral apron dusted with flour. Warm brown eyes, so unlike Tamiko’s guarded darkness, crinkled at the corners as she smiled.
"Well, hello there, dear!" Her voice was like warm honey, gentle and welcoming. "Can I help you?"
Koyomi blinked, momentarily speechless. This… this couldn't be right. "Um. Hi! I'm looking for Tamiko Sato? Is she home? We have a project…" She trailed off, gesturing vaguely at her heavy tote bag.
The woman's smile widened, transforming her face. "Oh! You must be Koyomi! Tami mentioned she might have someone from school coming by, but she wasn't specific." She chuckled, a soft, tinkling sound. "That girl. Always forgetting things. I'm Yuriko, her grandmother. Please, come in, come in! You're soaked through! Take off that wet coat."
Koyomi stepped into a small, incredibly cozy hallway. It smelled overwhelmingly of cinnamon and something baking – vanilla, maybe? She struggled out of her raincoat, her mind reeling. Grandmother. This sweet, flour-dusted, smiling woman was Tamiko's grandmother? The disconnect was staggering. It was like discovering a kitten raised by a wolverine. Yuriko bustled around her, taking the coat and hanging it on a hook shaped like a sunflower.
"Tami’s upstairs, dear," Yuriko said, leading the way into a small, warmly lit living room overflowing with knitted afghans and framed photos. One large one showed a much younger, less scowling Tamiko, maybe ten years old, holding a soccer trophy, looking almost… happy? "Probably lost track of time with that music of hers. Loud enough to shake the pictures sometimes, bless her." She shook her head fondly. "Would you like some tea? Cookies just came out of the oven. Snickerdoodles."
"Th-thank you, that sounds lovely," Koyomi stammered, still trying to reconcile this warm, cinnamon-scented haven with the image of Tamiko snarling in the hallway. Yuriko bustled off towards what Koyomi assumed was the kitchen, humming softly.
Koyomi stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room, clutching her tote bag. She heard the muffled thump of bass from upstairs. Tamiko was here. She hadn't forgotten. She just... hadn't come. And hadn't answered her phone. Koyomi took another deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of cookies and home. The storm was definitely upstairs. Time to deliver the project – and maybe a dose of determined sunshine – right to its door. She squared her shoulders and headed towards the stairs, following the sound of the music that was indeed making the picture frames tremble slightly.