Chapter 112: The Amateur Detective

Aiwa Matsuki may be shy, but she is not stupid. My blatant, clumsy denial about the photograph has not killed her suspicion; it has merely transformed it. She now knows I am hiding something. The question is, what? And why?

Thus begins "Operation: Is Hinamata-kun My Childhood Fiancé?" a secret investigation conducted with the stealth and subtlety of a startled squirrel.

Her methods are… amateurish. She starts by observing me. During class, when she thinks I am not looking, I catch her staring at me with an intense, analytical gaze, as if trying to match my current, awkward seventeen-year-old face to the blurry image in her photo album. The moment I catch her eye, she yelps softly and snaps her head back to her textbook, her face instantly turning a shade of crimson usually reserved for emergency exit signs.

Her attempts at gathering intel are equally clumsy. She tries to pump Kenji for information, approaching him after school under the guise of asking about homework.

"Tanaka-kun," she begins, her voice a nervous whisper. "You have known Hinamata-kun for a long time, yes?"

"Since we were knee-high to a grasshopper!" Kenji proclaims proudly. "We are brothers in arms! Bound by blood, sweat, and a shared love for limited-edition mecha figures!"

"So," Aiwa continues, trying to sound casual, "did he… uh… live near the old Sakuranomiya Park when he was little? Around kindergarten age?"

Kenji frowns, scratching his head. "Sakuranomiya Park? Hmm, maybe? We moved around a bit when we were kids. Why do you ask, Aiwa-chan? Are you writing his biography? Can I contribute a chapter on his questionable taste in manga?"

Aiwa gives up, realizing that Kenji's memory is about as reliable as a chocolate teapot.

Her next target is Rina. This requires a level of courage bordering on insanity. She approaches Rina during a break, holding out a small, beautifully wrapped box of Korean sweets.

"Hinamata-san," Aiwa says, giving a polite bow. "I thought you might enjoy these."

Rina eyes the box, then Aiwa, with deep suspicion. "What do you want, Matsuki-san?"

"Nothing!" Aiwa squeaks. "Just… a friendly gesture! Also," she adds, trying to sound nonchalant, "I was just wondering, you and your brother seem so close. Have you always lived in this neighborhood?"

Rina's eyes narrow. "Why?"

"Just curious!" Aiwa says quickly. "It is interesting to hear about people's childhoods!"

"My brother and I grew up right here," Rina says curtly, taking the box of sweets without a thank you. "And his childhood is none of your business." She turns and walks away, leaving Aiwa standing alone, her interrogation attempt a complete failure.

My own interactions with Aiwa are a minefield of awkward avoidance. She is clearly trying to observe me without being obvious, and I am trying to act normal while knowing she is observing me, which makes me act even weirder. We are trapped in a feedback loop of mutual suspicion and social ineptitude.

One afternoon, I drop my student ID card in the hallway. We both bend down to pick it up at the same time. Our heads bump together with a soft thunk.

"Ouch! Sorry!" we both say in unison.

We look at each other, our faces inches apart. Her eyes are wide with surprise. My heart is doing the Macarena. For a split second, the awkwardness vanishes, replaced by a spark of the easy connection we had in the Akihabara store.

Then, she remembers. He might be him. She scrambles back as if burned, her face flaming red. "Excuse me!" she mutters, before practically fleeing down the hall.

I just stare after her, my head throbbing, my confusion reaching new heights. This girl is going to be the death of me.