Chapter 2: — “When Sparks Fly and Tails Flick”

The next morning, I walked into class with a half-dead expression and a very frizzy ponytail.

It was all Koko’s fault.

The little menace had zapped my hairbrush this morning. It sparked in my hand and made my hair stand up like a cactus. He claimed it was “an accident.” I didn’t believe him.

“You look like a storm cloud that lost a fight with humidity,” he said, floating beside me with his usual smug look.

“Thanks,” I muttered, trying to smooth my hair with my hand.

Class started. I tried to focus. I really did.

But Sora was sitting two rows ahead of me again, humming softly to himself while scribbling in his notebook. Every now and then, he’d tap his pencil against his cheek and smile like he’d just solved some mystery of the universe.

My chest did that fluttery thing again. Ugh.

“You’re doing it again,” Koko whispered in my ear.

“Doing what?” I whispered back.

“That face. That mushy face. You look like a pancake that fell in love.”

I elbowed him lightly.

Koko floated higher, spinning slowly in a circle with both tails twitching like angry cat whiskers.

“I swear, if he says one more nice thing, I’m setting off the fire alarm.”

“He didn’t even say anything to me yet,” I hissed under my breath.

“YET,” Koko snapped. “And when he does, bam, your heart explodes, your brain melts, and poof, I’m officially abandoned.”

I groaned and buried my face in my notebook.

Halfway through class, Sora turned his head slightly. Just slightly. And his eyes met mine. For like, half a second.

My entire brain shut down.

Koko flicked his tail, and the projector bulb at the front of the classroom sparked and went out with a loud pop.

Everyone gasped. The lights flickered. Our teacher panicked. Chaos. Absolute chaos.

I stared at Koko in horror.

“You did not just do that!”

“I may have slightly, gently, electrocuted the projector,” he said, shrugging. “It was jealous of your attention too.”

I wanted to scream.

Lunchtime came, and I walked down the hallway feeling like I had a lightning storm buzzing in my chest.

Koko followed silently, which was weird. He only stayed quiet when he was planning something or being seriously dramatic.

“So… are you mad at me?” I asked finally, glancing at him.

He crossed his tiny misty arms and looked away.

“You yelled at me last night. Then you defended him again today. And now you’re blushing at a human jello cube like he invented gravity.”

“You’re jealous,” I said flatly.

“I am offended,” he replied, tail flicking sharply. “And emotionally inconvenienced.”

I sighed. “Koko, he just… makes my chest feel weird. It’s not like I’m going to abandon you.”

“You say that now, but one day you’ll ride off into the sunset holding hands, and I’ll be alone in a dusty drawer with nothing but a crumpled sticker and a stale marshmallow.”

I giggled softly.

“You still have your entire marshmallow stash in there?”

“Yes, and now none of them taste like joy.”

We sat under a tree by the edge of the schoolyard. It was warm and breezy, and cherry blossoms danced in the wind.

Sora was in the distance, laughing with his friends again. That laugh, why did it make everything feel like spring?

Koko sighed dramatically, laying on my shoulder like a fainting prince.

“If I disappear from emotional heartbreak, at least let my funeral playlist have upbeat lo-fi.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You’re so smitten,” he snapped.

A soft silence passed between us.

Then, out of nowhere, Sora stood up and started walking toward me.

I froze. Koko froze. The wind even seemed to pause.

He smiled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

“Hey. Um… you dropped this earlier.” He held out a pencil.

It was mine.

“O-oh. Thanks.”

Our fingers brushed as I took it. My heart somersaulted.

Sora gave me a small wave, then walked away.

Koko screamed into the void, silently, like a tiny, glowing volcano.

“That’s it. I’m going home.”

“Home?” I blinked.

“To the drawer. To my drawer. I’ll be brooding there. Alone. With my tragic feelings and a marshmallow funeral.”

And before I could stop him, he flicked his tails and vanished in a puff of sparkles.

After lunchtime ended, and the bell rang I made my way towards math class.

Math class felt unusually loud. Or maybe that was just the sound of my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I tried not to think about Sora. I tried not to think about the way our fingers brushed. Or the way Koko screamed and exploded into sparkles like a soap opera fairy.

I had barely sat down when our math teacher, Mr. Yamada, clapped his hands together.

“Alright everyone, group assignment time. Pairs of two. Randomized.”

Oh no.

A low murmur spread across the room as he read out the pairings.

“Aya and Keita. Naomi and Rio. Haruka and…” He paused.

Please not Sora. Please not Sora. Please not—

“Sora.”

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. The room tilted just slightly on its axis.

Sora looked over at me, smiled, and gave a little wave.

Smile. Wave. Kill me.

He got up from his seat and strolled over like he did this kind of thing every day — like he didn’t just shatter the fragile ecosystem of butterflies in my chest.

“Hey again,” he said, casually pulling up a chair. “Crazy how we keep getting paired up, huh?”

Crazy how your smile is literally a war crime, I wanted to say.

Instead I just nodded stiffly and said, “Haha… yeah… totally random…”

As we opened our textbooks, a faint flicker caught my eye.

A suspicious shimmer of sparkles drifted above the whiteboard, hovering behind the projector.

No.

No.

From a shadowy corner near the ceiling fan, two glowing tails twitched.

Koko.

I hissed in a whisper. “What are you doing here?!”

No one else heard. Of course. Only I could see him, the floating embodiment of clingy chaos.

He cupped his misty paws around his mouth like a megaphone.

“I was just checking the classroom weather. Very humid in here. Suspiciously humid.”

I gave him a sharp glare. He hovered upside down like he was part of the ceiling tiles, watching me with narrowed eyes.

Sora leaned closer. “You okay? You keep looking at the ceiling.”

“I, uh… thought I saw… a spider. Yep. Just a spider.”

Koko muttered darkly, “He’s already infecting your brain cells.”

“Stop it,” I whispered into my hand.

“What was that?” Sora asked, tilting his head.

“Oh! Nothing! Just, uh, math.” I pointed at a random equation in the book. “Wow! Look at all those… numbers!”

Sora laughed. “You’re kinda funny.”

I think I actually forgot how to blink.

Meanwhile, Koko was rolling around midair like he was physically ill.

“She’s falling faster than a donut into a coffee mug,” he groaned. “I can’t take this. I need to sabotage something.”

“Don’t you dare,” I whispered sharply.

Too late.

Koko zipped over to the projector wire and gently sparked it. The lights flickered once, then settled.

False alarm. I shot him a death glare.

He floated smugly. “What? I’m not doing anything. I’m observing.”

Sora leaned a little closer to look at the page we were working on. His arm accidentally brushed against mine.

Internal screaming intensifies.

“You’re warm,” he said with a smile. “Your hands feel like spring.”

I blacked out for two seconds. Mentally.

From above, Koko made the world’s tiniest squeak of rage. I could see him silently mouthing:

“SPRING?! SPRING?! I’LL GIVE YOU A SEASON, YOU WALKING TULIP.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing and said, “Yeah, haha… I’m just— warm-blooded.”

Sora blinked, confused. “Um… I think we all are?”

“RIGHT,” I blurted. “Ha ha. Joking. Just a joke.”

Koko facepalmed so hard he spun backwards midair.

By the time class ended, I was both emotionally electrified and physically exhausted. Sora waved goodbye as he headed out, and I sat frozen in my seat, trying to remember how legs worked.

Koko floated down beside me like a grumpy little storm cloud.

“You’re not allowed to look at him anymore,” he said.

“I didn’t look at him,” I lied.

“You’re not allowed to breathe near him either.”

“I didn’t do that either.”

“You’re banned from being his math partner. I’ve already filed the paperwork with the Department of Magical Jealousy.”

I stared at him. “That’s not a real thing.”

“Not with that attitude.”

I laughed. For real this time. A warm kind of laugh. The kind that came from being overwhelmed and flustered and loved — even if it was by a spark-tailed chaos goblin who lived in my desk drawer.

“I’m serious, Haruka,” Koko said, hovering close. “You better not fall in love. I’m warning you.”

I smiled, poking his cheek. “Too late.”

He let out a tiny scream and vanished in a puff of glitter again.