The Sunset

As an avalanche of letters and parcels cascading from Umi’s locker crashes to the ground, each thud echoes a sinking feeling deep within her soul. The sweet, rich aroma of cocoa weaves through the air, becoming one with the weight of unspoken sorrow pressing on her chest. She stoops to gather the scattered tokens, her brows knitting together in a silent testament to her turmoil. They misunderstand her, she muses, fingers hesitating over the smooth satin of a chocolate box’s ribbon. Once they see the real her, they’ll retreat, leaving her alone with her inevitable inadequacies. And the irony isn’t lost on her—she knows all too well the sting of desire from afar.

“Umi-chan,” comes a soft voice, tinged with a playful mockery that doesn’t quite mask a deeper concern. “Seems you’ve captured an army of admirers, haven’t you?”

Umi’s frown is a mix of confusion and denial. “It’s not what it appears,” she whispers, her gaze fleeing from Kotori’s probing eyes. She couldn't bear to ponder on matters of the heart, not when she feels so undeserving of these confections, not when her own heart lay in tumultuous pieces.

Kotori’s keen eyes don’t miss the veil of melancholy, nor the wistful yearning lurking within Umi’s deep blue gaze. She contemplates what secrets might be dancing in her friend’s mind as she spots the familiar wrapping of chocolates barely concealed in Umi’s bag—a wrapping she recalls from a recent visit to the Sonoda residence.

“Do you have someone in mind for your chocolates this year?” Kotori inquires softly, a subtle nod toward the homemade sweets betraying Umi’s hidden intentions.

The question ambushes Umi, her pulse thrumming a frenzied rhythm. “It’s... it’s nobody,” she falters, her hand reflexively clasping her bag over the lie that tumbles out.

Kotori’s smile is a warm facade, her eyes not quite mirroring its brightness. “They’re fortunate, whoever they may be,” she remarks, though her tone carries a weight that doesn't belong. Secrecy wasn't a garment Umi wore well, especially not from her—not Kotori.
Umi sighs.

“Tell me who it is?”

Umi could hardly breath, her head losing oxygen the moment she gazes back at Kotori. “I..can’t.”

Kotori frowns.

The chime of the bell signals the start of their day, and together they stoop to collect the fallen tributes before hurrying to class.

Throughout the morning, Umi is haunted by their exchange, toying absentmindedly with the ribbon of her carefully prepared chocolates. Kotori’s words echo in her head, laden with an unfamiliar gravity, and the thought of her own heart’s precarious leap. Could it be that she stands a chance?

She watches Kotori jot notes, her own heart galloping at the prospect of offering her chocolates to her friend.

The lunch bell tolls, and Umi’s resolve steadies over her confectionery gift, her mind whirring with ways to present it as a mere token of friendship, yet distinct from the rest.

But her plans are upended as she notices Kotori secreting away an orange-wrapped chocolate, her back turned. Umi inhales sharply as Kotori whirls around, a nervous smile playing on her lips. “Wish me luck,” she breathes out before dashing to Honoka, taking her hand, and vanishing from the room.

Umi stands frozen, her chocolates neglected in hand, as the bitter taste of unrequited affection floods her. She’s immobilized by the sharp twinge of one-sided feelings, a stark realization dawning upon her.
With a spirit weighed down by her silent, unvoiced confession, Umi turns away, the discarded chocolates a testament to her unspoken love.

---

The chill in Umi's voice is palpable, a stark contrast to the usual warmth she exudes. Her arrow, a silent witness to her inner turmoil, misses its target, falling beside it, devoid of life. She had hope to get some alone time after school.
"Why are you here?" she repeats, turning to face Kotori, her gaze as piercing as the arrow should have been.

Kotori's response is a smile, tinged with a rosy hue of shyness that Umi finds disarmingly endearing. "I guess... I'm a little embarrassed," Kotori admits, her fingers nervously fidgeting with her skirt. "The transition from friends to... more, it's daunting. I didn't expect my feelings to be returned, and now I'm navigating uncharted waters. Feels like my heart’s going to rip out of my chest everytime I see her."

The confession slices through Umi, a sharp ache that she wasn't prepared to feel. The evidence of Kotori's successful confession had been clear — the lingering blushes, the shared glances with Honoka in class, the joy that seemed to radiate from them. But hearing it vocalized, it's a different kind of pain, one that twists in her gut like a knife.

"Congratulations," Umi murmurs, her voice a ghost of its usual self. She mentally chastises herself, attempting to inject some life into her words. "Just... don't let it distract you from your studies," she tries, forcing a semblance of her typical concern into her tone.

Kotori's giggle does little to lift the heavy shroud over Umi's heart. "You always worry like a mother," she teases before curiosity overcomes her. "How was your Valentine's Day?"

The question hangs heavy between them, and as Umi attempts a smile, it crumbles, revealing the fissures in her façade. "I was rejected," she confesses, retrieving the battered box of chocolates from her bag. Her voice is a mere whisper, laden with the weight of her disappointment.

Kotori approaches, taking the box from Umi's grasp with a tenderness that feels like a balm and a burn all at once. She delicately opens it to reveal the sad, melted remains of Umi's efforts.
"Don't," Umi starts, her heart in her throat as Kotori brings a piece of the spoiled chocolate to her lips. "You deserve so much more than—"

But her protest is cut short as Kotori indulges in the confection, an unabashed joy in her eyes that only serves to deepen Umi's sense of loss. Chocolate smears her fingers and lips, and Umi fights the urge to reach out, to erase the bittersweet evidence.

"I'll eat all your chocolates, Umi-chan," Kotori declares, her voice muffled by the mouthful.

Umi can't help the chuckle that escapes her, a hollow sound even to her own ears. "How generous of you," she says, handing over a clean handkerchief.

Kotori accepts it with a nod, her eyes serious. "I mean it, Umi. Your chocolates are the best I've ever had. Anyone who can't see that is foolish. It's a real shame they couldn't appreciate them — or you. They'd fall for you in an instant if they knew just how sweet your heart is."

Umi stays silent.

The Sunset

“You busy?” Alisa texts.

“Yes.”

“Doing what?”

“Trying to figure out what I'm doing with my life.”

Alisa giggles, her fingers hovering over the phone's screen, ready to type back a witty retort. But the sound of footsteps causes her to pause and glance backward. Out of her peripheries, she spots the familiar figure with taupe-colored hair. Alisa fights to keep her smile from growing too broad and focuses back on her phone.

Instead of sending her initial response, she quickly types, I’m outside your door, go on a date with me and spins around to face the newcomer with a respectful bow. “Minami-senpai.”

“Ayase-chan.” Kotori’s brow creases, a spark of confusion that sends a thrill through Alisa. “You’re here for Umi-chan?” Her voice strains.

“I am, Umi and I -,” she begins, but her words are cut off by another voice. Her attention turns but not before finding the subtle shocked expression on Kotori’s face as soon as she implied, she was close enough with Umi to be using her first name and with no honorifics. This was going to be so much fun.

“Kotori, I parked the car near by t—” Honoka approaches, her orange hair a vibrant marker of her presence. “Ayase-chan! What a surprise!”

Grinning, Alisa returns the greeting. “What brings you two here at this hour?”

“We're here to coax Umi out into having drinks with us,” Honoka declares, her tone light and she links arms with her fiancé.

“And you?” Kotori inquires, curiosity laced in her voice.

“Oh, Umi and I have a belated valentines or early white day date.” Alisa barely contains her glee, noticing Kotori’s expression flicker. This situation is unfolding even more delightfully than she anticipated — no need now for the indirect tactic of uploading pictures to her social media to catch Kotori’s attention.

Ignoring the vibration from her phone, Alisa stuffs it into her handbag and raps her knuckles against the door with purpose.

The door swings open to reveal Umi, shifting rapidly from frustration to surprise, and settling finally on a flushed embarrassment. Alisa can’t help but beam at the sight — Umi, usually so composed, stands there in just pyjama pants and a singlet, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“H-Hi,” Umi stammers. Without missing a beat, Alisa links arms with her, tiptoeing to plant a playful kiss on her cheek.

Umi’s blush deepens, her hand coming up to brush the spot where Alisa’s lips met her skin. She sends a stern glance toward Eli’s younger sister, visibly struggling to regain her composure.

“Ohhh, you're in deep trouble with Eli now,” Honoka chimes in, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “All this time, you told us there was no one, but it seems you had a reason to be secretive.” She winks conspiratorially. "Did you lie about the arranged marriage too?" Honoka gasps. "To cover this secret?"

Umi could only stand here. What is happening?

Before Umi could come back to her senses and retort, Alisa quickly interjects, her grin wide. “Why don’t we all go out? A double date! You two wait here; I’ll help Umi-senpai get ready.” She shoots a suggestive wink at Kotori, who seems suddenly fascinated with the ground.

“Yeah, no.” Umi says, as she begins to close the door. Alisa skilfully wedges her foot in the gap, halting Umi's attempt to shut it. “You could’ve gotten hurt.” She sighs.

The concern under lacing the weariness in Umi’s soft tone warms Alisa, and she suddenly felt her heart skip a beat as she remembered the feelings, she had for her senior years ago. She shakes her head and resumes her playful attitude. “You know, Nozomi used to do this all the time, making sure Onee-chan couldn’t escape without a quick make-out session.”
Umi arches an eyebrow. “That’s... more than I needed to know.”

Dismissing the awkwardness, Alisa adopts a puppy-eyed look and begins to pout, pulling Umi back inside just beyond earshot of the others. “So… will you?”
“No.” Umi responds, steadfast and serious. She looks outside at Kotori and Honoka and gives them a nod, “Come inside, I’ll meet you in the living room. I just need to get changed.” The couple follows.

Ayase ignores them and continues to follow Umi into her room. “But why not? I’m single, you’re single…”

“You have feelings for Honoka's sister.”

“That’s kind of cruel to bring her up, after telling you that she told me she’s straight” Alisa retorts, her tone light despite the rejection. Umi pulls Alisa in to her room and closes her bedroom door.

“I’m sorry.” She tilts her head down and Alisa puts her hands to Umi’s cheek and looks her in the eye.

“It’s okay, silly. I was kidding.” She smiles. “I just want to hang out with you, it doesn’t have to be a proper date.” Alisa cajoles, her voice softer now.

Umi's stare is unyielding. “If I find out you’re up to something..”. She sighs and her posture softens. “I have missed you, so fine.”

Victory brightens Alisa’s expression as she laughs, her smile promising a world of fun and just a hint of necessary trouble.

The Sunset

In the dimly lit bar, the world buzzes—a hive of half-heard conversations and the rhythmic tapping of glass on wood. Their corner table is an oasis of quiet in the revelry, yet the air hangs heavy with an unspoken tension that clings like smoke.

Honoka, with the animated flair of a born raconteur, spins tales of her shop's latest escapades, her laughter a bright thread weaving through the drone of background noise. Umi, a portrait of poise, responds with the right nods, her responses timed to the cadence of Honoka's gesticulations, her warmth genuine but her smile never quite reaching the sanctuary of her eyes.

Kotori seems almost adrift, her wine swirling idly, the motion hypnotic. Her eyes, glossed with a sheen of distraction, linger on Umi with a melancholy that tugs at the edges of her forced smile. There's a shadow there, a flicker of something like pain, each time Alisa's laughter breaches the space between them, her touch lingering just a breath too long on Umi's arm.

And Alisa, she's the wildcard tonight, her energy amplified, her stories embellished with the kind of details that straddle the line between fact and fiction. She leans into Umi with a familiarity that speaks of shared secrets and private jokes, her glances towards Kotori sharp and assessing, picking apart her reactions like a puzzle to be solved.

As the night unfolds, it's as if they're all players in a delicate ballet of words and glances. Alisa's stories grow more intimate, painting her time with Umi in strokes of implied intimacy, and with every tale, Kotori's smile fractures a little more. The anecdotes of impromptu trips and cozy, unplanned rendezvous tighten like a vice around Kotori's heart.

Then Alisa's voice cuts through, casual as a cat's paw yet laden with implication, "Remember the blackout? You came over with chocolates, and we spent the whole night just... talking." She purrs the last word, infusing it with a meaning that makes Umi's cheeks bloom with color.

Umi, momentarily caught off guard, nods, "It was an unforgettable night."

Alisa's recounting continues, her voice dipping into a sultry tone. "By candlelight, we talked into the early hours... It was magical, really." The innuendo is clear, and Umi's puzzled look deepens. Is this flirtation?

"That was a while back," Umi finally says, her memory clear despite the strange turn of the conversation. "The 9th of December. Your birthday. You were so upset by the storm."

Alisa recoils a bit, perhaps not expecting the gentle pat on the head that Umi offers, a gesture meant to comfort but now feeling out of place.

Kotori's grip on her napkin betrays her inner turmoil, the white linen crumpling in her fist. The mention of Umi's homemade chocolate—a shared ritual between her and Umi—now shared with Alisa, slices through her, a bitter reminder of a time when they were the ones sharing whispered confidences.

Then, her mind races—1209, the code to Umi's phone. The date etched in her memory, suddenly cast in a new, unsettling light.

Honoka's voice, innocent and oblivious, pierces the fog of unsaid things. "Did you two start dating then?" She looks between Alisa and Umi with mirth.

Umi, caught mid-sip, nearly chokes on her drink.

Alisa, her speech slightly slurred, her movements languid with alcohol, leans closer to Umi, whispering, "Our little secret," her hand resting boldly on Umi's thigh.

Umi turns sharply to Alisa, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and silent appeal for clarity. Alisa leans closer. Across from her, Kotori's eyes are pools of hurt, her gaze fixed on Umi, searching for an answer in the space between them.

1209

It was 9th of December. Alisa’s birthday.

Not 12th of September.

Not Kotori’s birthday.

"A-Alisa, what are you -"

It wasn’t her, anymore.

The moment shatters as the table lurches. Kotori is on her feet, her drink abandoned in one final, defiant swig. She mumbles a hasty excuse, leaving the rumpled napkin on the floor—a fallen flag on the battleground of her heart, signaling a retreat from a war she can no longer bear to fight.

Chapter End

A/N: Hope all is well. Thank you for reading and sticking with me.