Chapter 1: Senpai

Shiori Honjou’s heart raced as Motohara smiled. She worried he would hear her heart patter against the book she held to her chest. How had he found it? Why was he giving it to her? How did he know who she was? She looked up, realizing he had just asked her a question. “Huh?” she asked.

Motohara smiled. “You like the book?”

Shiori's cheeks flushed. Her brain threatened to shut down. "I, uh, yes. I've looked everywhere," she stammered, searching for the right words. She sounded boring. Shouldn't she say more? She was being awkward. Boring and awkward.

Motohara’s smile wasn’t mocking or cruel. It was warm. Hadn’t she imagined this kind of thing happening when she started high school? Her daydreams had been one thing, but this was happening.

She smiled back at him as her thoughts came to a standstill. She had started at this high school weeks ago, but she had already heard about Motohara-senpai. He was a senpai, her senior classmate.

Other girls from her middle school had said he was a composed and tall foreign transfer student with a Japanese name. It seemed every girl was talking about him.

She looked down at the small note: 'From Masahiro Motohara.' he had tucked into the book next to a hard, black bookmark.

“How did you find this? Kawamura isn’t a popular author. None of the local libraries carry her books. She captured my heart after I discovered one at an estate sale. I’ve hunted for the complete series and must have read the first one a dozen times.”

“This,” she said, hugging the book tighter, “is the only one I could never find. I’ve tried…” Shiori looked up at Motohara. She was rambling. This was worse than her brain grinding to a halt. Now she couldn’t stop talking. She blushed more.

He smiled. He listened to her ramble. A warm breeze swept past them, carrying the sweet scent of wisteria from a house nearby their school.

“How?” Her fingers traced the old leatherbound hardcover. It smelled like old book glue and maybe household incense. She ran a fingernail across the closed, yellowed pages, itching to uncover the story’s ending.

“I may have asked around,” he said with a tilt of his head and a shrug.

Shiori realized she had forgotten to breathe. Her brain restarted after she remembered to move air in and out. A senpai had been asking about her?

Tsubame must have told him about the book. She had lured Shiori out to this corner of the schoolyard with a promise to meet for lunch, as usual.

But Motohara waited for her instead. It might not be rational, but Shiori felt like finding and shaking her friend. She hugged the book tighter. “I meant, how did you find it? I had almost given up, worried that no copies of her final book remained.”

He laughed. “It wasn’t easy, but I had to act before the other boys.”

Okay, this had to be a prank. Or a stroke. Or both. Mixed with an embarrassing dream. With a final wheeze, Shiori’s mind gave up and crashed. The heat from her overworked brain blushed over her face.

Motohara stepped forward. “Hey, want to do something after school, Honjou-chan?” He was close. That made her blush more. ‘Chan’ was a more intimate title.

“Well, ah, after school. School, that’s now. And after, well, you want to… and I am me which means…” Shiori’s brain might have died a premature death, and her face might have reached oven temperatures, but her mouth was working just fine.

She had no idea what she was saying and hoped Motohara-senpai wasn’t listening.

He stepped closer. He should have been looking at her like an idiot. Instead, there was a smile so warm it made her overheat.

She took a breath to calm herself. Unfortunately, her mouth used the new air. “You’re Motohara-senpai!” she exclaimed, far louder than necessary.

He didn’t disagree with her.

She wished she could live in a hole until the senior class of senpai graduated. Maybe she could flee the country out of embarrassment.

He leaned toward her, smile lopsided and eyes sparkling. He had one hand in his pocket, the other palm up in a pleading gesture. “Would you go out with me?”

His words reverberated within her, striking like a hammer against a bell. Her brain may have been offline, but she had to answer. A cool calm filled her mind. The book fell unnoticed at their feet as she said, “Yes.”

Then the portal to another world opened at their feet.

The ground shone with pure white light. For an instant, Shiori assumed the sensation of sinking was part of the dizziness from looking into Motohara’s eyes. But no, she was actually sinking. Panic jolted her from the feeling of cool calm.

Motohara had sunk into the ground past his ankles. He pulled one hand from his pocket and reached into the shining ground with both hands. By the time he rescued the book from the other side of the shining portal, he had sunk to his knees.

“What’s…” Shiori managed to say. She was sinking too, and with a jolt of fear, she realized that the more she struggled to pull herself from the glowing ground, the faster she sank.

Motohara shoved the book into her hands with such force that she toppled backward onto solid ground. By the time she sat up, Motohara was waist-deep and sinking quickly. She reached for him.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said as the frustrated panic on his face changed to resolved calm, “but I’ll be back. I’ll come for you.”

Shiori tried to reach Motohara, but he refused. She would probably get pulled into the portal with him. Helpless, she watched him vanish.

The circle of light disappeared. Everything was quiet. Shiori sat on the ground, a book and a rectangular bookmark beside her. What should she do? Something terrible happened. She should be panicking, getting help, something.

Numb and confused, Shiori put the surprisingly heavy black rectangular bookmark into the book at the first page. She also found a note she couldn't explain in the book that said, 'From Masahiro Motohara'. Who was that? Her head hurt thinking about it.

What had happened? She picked up the book that had been the subject of a year-long search. She should be ecstatic now that she had it.

Shiori checked the time. She should find Tsubame for lunch. She walked back to the main school building, clutching the book.

How had she gotten the book again? Someone important had given it to her.

Shiori found Tsubame eating a packed lunch in their usual spot.

Tsubame had a sly smile. “How did it go?”

“How did what go?” Shiori asked.

Tsubame’s smile faded into confusion. “You were going to meet… someone… today at lunch. I was excited about it.”

Shiori frowned. Thinking about this gave her a headache. She had met with someone, hadn’t she. She cracked open the book and found the small note, ‘From Masahiro Motohara’.

He had given her the book. “Motohara... senpai?” she said. The effort brought on a more severe headache.

“Who?” Tsubame asked, “I don’t think any senpai at our school has that name.”

Tsubame ate while Shiori’s appetite vanished and the headache worsened.

She pulled out the black bookmark and set it next to the small note. The first page started: “Shiori tried to reach Motohara, but he refused. She would probably get pulled into the portal with him. Helpless, she watched him vanish.”

That was her name, in the book. A thundercrack of head pain brought back her memories. Motohara-senpai had disappeared. Tsubame couldn’t remember him. What was happening?

On the bench where Shiori sat, the black bookmark’s surface cleared to reveal Motohara’s face. He yelled silently to get attention, but no one noticed the bookmark. Behind him was an alien sky and a field with bizarre flowers.