Chapter 5:
Take 5 – Rip Out Your Teeth and Do The Best You Can
Between The Wish and The Well
The same sky.
The same rooftop.
The same heat.
The same shade.
The same brand of cigarettes.
The same ashy taste, only now it also helped mask the constant metallic tang in my mouth.
Without even getting up, I pulled my instant camera from my backpack and snapped a shot of the sky.
I blew on the photo and waved it—pointless, but a habit.
Blue, bright, and not a cloud in sight. That’s how the sky looked in my picture. In other words: empty.
“So… how’d it go with Agami yesterday?” I asked the moment I saw Iori push open the rooftop door.
“Goddamn it, Haruka, don’t do that!” she snapped after a startled yelp, like tapping a cat on the back while it’s staring out a window.
“Do what? Lie here almost motionless?”
“Scare me, idiot.”
“Forgot to mention I’m a ghost.” I said, snapping a photo of her. No idea why I did it, just felt like the moment called for it.
“You said you didn’t have a camera.”
“Technically, I don’t.”
By some stroke of luck, the photo wasn’t half bad for a spur-of-the-moment shot. Iori was clearly the focus, though part of her came out blurry.
“You’re literally holding it in your hands.” she said, exasperated, pointing at me with her notebook like she was talking to a deranged man.
“I mean it’s not mine. Agami lent it to me… years ago… never gave it back,” I said with a laugh. “He knows I still use it, so don’t go yelling this down to score points with him. Anyway, how’d it go with him?”
“Um…”
“Your face says it went terribly.”
“No, it’s just… the plan was simple. Ask him out.”
“Wow, bold move. But?”
“But he spent almost two hours showing me lenses, then explained the pros and cons of analog cameras…”
“Classic. Why didn’t you just suggest continuing the chat at a café or something?”
“Because the moment wasn’t right, idiot. Otherwise, I would’ve.” she said, a bit annoyed, crossing her arms.
“Uh-huh. The ‘moment’?”
“You know… an awkward silence, or our fingers brushing when he showed me a lens… something like that…”
“Can you even hear yourself? You’re describing some cheesy scene from a teen romance novel.”
“Says the guy who hides on the school rooftop every day.”
“Fair enough…” After a bit, Iori’s face was clear in the photo, though her expression looked more like The Scream than a portrait. “…You’re cute, no denying that, but it’s useless if you don’t loosen up a bit.”
“The school ghost is giving me life advice…” she muttered, looking away.
“The school ghost is suggesting you at least go on a first date before getting all mushy over some dumb romance…”
“W-What? For your information, I’ve been on dates.”
“Sure… yeah…” I watched her through the smoke curling out of my mouth as I spoke. You could see her cheeks turning red as hell. “…I’ve got ears, and I use them pretty well.”
“Hey, don’t you dare—”
“I’m not telling anyone, relax… gotta keep up your reputation, right? Just saying, you should be a bit more… you, and less what everyone else made you.” I stood up slowly—guess I’d have to get used to this lack of energy. “Just a tip, take it or leave it.”
The second I looked up, there she was again, scribbling in that notebook. Don’t get me wrong, I get the whole personal attachment thing, privacy and all that, but I was running low on patience, and this girl had pushed every last button at once.
I snatched the notebook mid-sentence and walked toward the railing.
“Haruka!”
“Whoa, whoa… hold up… not sure if I should drop this off the roof or set it on fire…” I said, first pretending to toss it, then pulling out my lighter.
“Haruka, seriously, give it back!” For every step she took toward me, I took one back. I might not have had energy, but I sure knew how to dodge a tackle.
“Nope. Let’s see what scripts you’re writing…”
I was expecting complex diagrams like she was building bombs or, I don’t know, quotes from her favorite movies. The reality was a hundred miles from that. I’d never read so much self-loathing—and coming from me, that’s saying something.
I stopped moving, my fingers loosening. I just let her take it back.
“Iori…”
Her response was a slap that nearly knocked a vertebra out of place. It didn’t feel like anger—it was more like I’d ripped the bandage off a wound and poured lemon juice, salt, and vinegar on it.
“You’re a complete and total jerk.” she said, looking down, practically digging her nails into the paper.
It’s a paradox, isn’t it? A harmless joke ends up hurting someone who was already hurting themselves by writing and rereading those self-degrading words all the time.
“Iori, seriously, hold on a second.”
“What?” She barely glanced at me, but she didn’t stop walking toward the door.
“Let’s call it even…” I said, pulling the empty pill bottle from my pocket. Even without the pills, it had become a sort of talisman I needed to carry. “If I saw something I shouldn’t have… guess you’ve got the right to see something too.”
I didn’t know a person could cycle through expressions that fast. The little orange bottle caught her attention, and probably the name written on it was what left her unable to string a single word together,just stammers.
“There. Secret for secret. We’re even.”
“No, Haruka…” she stammered, grabbing the bottle without taking it from my hands. “This is…”
“A ticket to a permanent vacation?” I said with a laugh, slipping the bottle back into my pocket and brushing past her.
“That’s not funny, Haruka…”
“It sure isn’t… but it is what it is, right?”
“D-Does Agami know…?”
“Nope, and it’d be great if you kept it that way.”
“What am I supposed to do now?”
If you ask me, it sounded more like a prayer than a question.
“No clue, gotta wing it. But for starters, I’d say stop writing nonsense in that notebook… you’ve got nice handwriting...” I opened the door. “I’ll walk you to the club, and fix your face… Agami notices everything.”
“Haruka…”
“Now what?”
“If it was your notebook… what would you write?”
“Hm… no idea… how about, ‘I’ve got some…’” I gestured like I had breasts. “Huge ones?” I said, letting out what was maybe the first genuine laugh in a while.
“Idiot, I’m asking for real.” she said, gripping her notebook even tighter.
The truth? Is there such a thing? Doesn’t it depend on who’s looking?
I mean, it’s open to interpretation most of the time, but those words written there—they’re things I wouldn’t even say to myself in my worst moments, and she was reading them constantly.
“Seriously, I don’t know… how about… ‘do the best you can’?”
The same rooftop.
The same heat.
The same shade.
The same brand of cigarettes.
The same ashy taste, only now it also helped mask the constant metallic tang in my mouth.
Without even getting up, I pulled my instant camera from my backpack and snapped a shot of the sky.
I blew on the photo and waved it—pointless, but a habit.
Blue, bright, and not a cloud in sight. That’s how the sky looked in my picture. In other words: empty.
“So… how’d it go with Agami yesterday?” I asked the moment I saw Iori push open the rooftop door.
“Goddamn it, Haruka, don’t do that!” she snapped after a startled yelp, like tapping a cat on the back while it’s staring out a window.
“Do what? Lie here almost motionless?”
“Scare me, idiot.”
“Forgot to mention I’m a ghost.” I said, snapping a photo of her. No idea why I did it, just felt like the moment called for it.
“You said you didn’t have a camera.”
“Technically, I don’t.”
By some stroke of luck, the photo wasn’t half bad for a spur-of-the-moment shot. Iori was clearly the focus, though part of her came out blurry.
“You’re literally holding it in your hands.” she said, exasperated, pointing at me with her notebook like she was talking to a deranged man.
“I mean it’s not mine. Agami lent it to me… years ago… never gave it back,” I said with a laugh. “He knows I still use it, so don’t go yelling this down to score points with him. Anyway, how’d it go with him?”
“Um…”
“Your face says it went terribly.”
“No, it’s just… the plan was simple. Ask him out.”
“Wow, bold move. But?”
“But he spent almost two hours showing me lenses, then explained the pros and cons of analog cameras…”
“Classic. Why didn’t you just suggest continuing the chat at a café or something?”
“Because the moment wasn’t right, idiot. Otherwise, I would’ve.” she said, a bit annoyed, crossing her arms.
“Uh-huh. The ‘moment’?”
“You know… an awkward silence, or our fingers brushing when he showed me a lens… something like that…”
“Can you even hear yourself? You’re describing some cheesy scene from a teen romance novel.”
“Says the guy who hides on the school rooftop every day.”
“Fair enough…” After a bit, Iori’s face was clear in the photo, though her expression looked more like The Scream than a portrait. “…You’re cute, no denying that, but it’s useless if you don’t loosen up a bit.”
“The school ghost is giving me life advice…” she muttered, looking away.
“The school ghost is suggesting you at least go on a first date before getting all mushy over some dumb romance…”
“W-What? For your information, I’ve been on dates.”
“Sure… yeah…” I watched her through the smoke curling out of my mouth as I spoke. You could see her cheeks turning red as hell. “…I’ve got ears, and I use them pretty well.”
“Hey, don’t you dare—”
“I’m not telling anyone, relax… gotta keep up your reputation, right? Just saying, you should be a bit more… you, and less what everyone else made you.” I stood up slowly—guess I’d have to get used to this lack of energy. “Just a tip, take it or leave it.”
The second I looked up, there she was again, scribbling in that notebook. Don’t get me wrong, I get the whole personal attachment thing, privacy and all that, but I was running low on patience, and this girl had pushed every last button at once.
I snatched the notebook mid-sentence and walked toward the railing.
“Haruka!”
“Whoa, whoa… hold up… not sure if I should drop this off the roof or set it on fire…” I said, first pretending to toss it, then pulling out my lighter.
“Haruka, seriously, give it back!” For every step she took toward me, I took one back. I might not have had energy, but I sure knew how to dodge a tackle.
“Nope. Let’s see what scripts you’re writing…”
I was expecting complex diagrams like she was building bombs or, I don’t know, quotes from her favorite movies. The reality was a hundred miles from that. I’d never read so much self-loathing—and coming from me, that’s saying something.
I stopped moving, my fingers loosening. I just let her take it back.
“Iori…”
Her response was a slap that nearly knocked a vertebra out of place. It didn’t feel like anger—it was more like I’d ripped the bandage off a wound and poured lemon juice, salt, and vinegar on it.
“You’re a complete and total jerk.” she said, looking down, practically digging her nails into the paper.
It’s a paradox, isn’t it? A harmless joke ends up hurting someone who was already hurting themselves by writing and rereading those self-degrading words all the time.
“Iori, seriously, hold on a second.”
“What?” She barely glanced at me, but she didn’t stop walking toward the door.
“Let’s call it even…” I said, pulling the empty pill bottle from my pocket. Even without the pills, it had become a sort of talisman I needed to carry. “If I saw something I shouldn’t have… guess you’ve got the right to see something too.”
I didn’t know a person could cycle through expressions that fast. The little orange bottle caught her attention, and probably the name written on it was what left her unable to string a single word together,just stammers.
“There. Secret for secret. We’re even.”
“No, Haruka…” she stammered, grabbing the bottle without taking it from my hands. “This is…”
“A ticket to a permanent vacation?” I said with a laugh, slipping the bottle back into my pocket and brushing past her.
“That’s not funny, Haruka…”
“It sure isn’t… but it is what it is, right?”
“D-Does Agami know…?”
“Nope, and it’d be great if you kept it that way.”
“What am I supposed to do now?”
If you ask me, it sounded more like a prayer than a question.
“No clue, gotta wing it. But for starters, I’d say stop writing nonsense in that notebook… you’ve got nice handwriting...” I opened the door. “I’ll walk you to the club, and fix your face… Agami notices everything.”
“Haruka…”
“Now what?”
“If it was your notebook… what would you write?”
“Hm… no idea… how about, ‘I’ve got some…’” I gestured like I had breasts. “Huge ones?” I said, letting out what was maybe the first genuine laugh in a while.
“Idiot, I’m asking for real.” she said, gripping her notebook even tighter.
The truth? Is there such a thing? Doesn’t it depend on who’s looking?
I mean, it’s open to interpretation most of the time, but those words written there—they’re things I wouldn’t even say to myself in my worst moments, and she was reading them constantly.
“Seriously, I don’t know… how about… ‘do the best you can’?”
Please sign in to leave a comment.