Ch.2 – EP12 Final Exams and July Chocolate

The moment the seating chart was pinned to the blackboard, the classroom rippled with a buzz.

July sunlight slanted in through the gaps of the window blinds, making the chalk dust float gold.

“Uh—let’s see…” As she traced with her finger to find her name, Momoko’s gaze stopped where another familiar string of characters sat alongside it.

Sora / Momoko

“All right, we’re next to each other!”

With zero hesitation, Momoko pulled out her chair, the casters clatter-clatter underfoot as she sat. Then thunk—she pushed her desk against his so hard that the one-textbook distance went to zero in a second.

“Hey Sora, are you studying for semester finals?”

“Mm, I just lightly review the lessons after I get home.”

“For someone who says ‘lightly,’ your grades are always good. Teach me math? I’m bad at it—”

The question came out of nowhere—so straightforward it threw him off for a second. For a moment, Sora’s words queued up in his mouth, waiting their turn to come out.

Sora: “S-sure, I don’t mind…”

“Okay, there’s time until the chess nationals, so we’re studying in the library after school today♡”

It felt like a tiny heart emoji materialized and fell onto the desk. Sora could only nod.

(Today’s 4/4 time, and a fast tempo at that…)

The classroom HVAC hummed buuun in a steady low tone. Counting in beats: 1, 2, 3, 4. Momoko’s voice bounces on beat two, a bright sound.

The bell rings. Class ends. Lunch break, afternoon classes, after school. Time glides forward, and the two head for the library.

____________________________________________________________________________________

The school library isn’t hyper-chilled or undercooled—just right.

Past the smell of the sanitizer at the entrance: the scent of paper, glue, and quiet.

“There’s an open four-seat,” Momoko points, and they sit. She takes the seat right next to Sora without hesitation. Not across—beside. (Getting attacked by White on move one?) His heartbeat shifts from four beats to a slightly raised agogic (tempo increase).

“Uh, um—”

“Okay, here’s the math textbook and my notebook. Ah, lend me your mechanical pencil.”

“You don’t have one?—”

“I lost it.”

But Sora could see there were several in Momoko’s pencil case.

(Yikes… the distance is way too close…)

At the angle where their shoulders touch or don’t, the HVAC’s cool air slips in. A faint minty fragrance from her hair. The pulse goes off. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Reset it.

“Hey, by the way, in Japan there’s that custom where girls give boys chocolate, right?”

“…That’s a February thing. It’s July now…”

“Eh (sweat)? S-season doesn’t matter, does it? Chocolate is chocolate. Here, this is for you♡”

Momoko rummages in her bag and takes out a ribboned chocolate bar, handing it to him. Blue box with gold foil-stamp, looks a bit upscale.

“(What does this mean… Is it okay to accept?) …Uh, thanks…?”

“(Momoko, internally thump-thump (heartbeat)) It’s just obligatory chocolate! Th-there’s no deep meaning!”

Color rises to her cheeks. Her gaze flits left and right, and she adds quietly in Polish:

“…Głuptas”

(I’ve learned Głuptas. But what flavor of “idiot” does she mean?)

Sora slides the box of chocolate gently into his bag. He calms his heart in four beats and opens the notebook. Even he wasn’t sure why he’d gotten nervous.

“So, math. Where do I teach from?”

“From the beginning.”

“All of it?”

“All of it.”

“…Roger.”

Sora draws a number line at the notebook’s edge and starts with the basics of functions.

“This formula is a quadratic; the graph is a parabola. Since the coefficient of x is negative, the vertex shifts to the right—”

“Wait wait, vertex—like the ‘king’s square’ in chess?”

“In chess terms, imagine x as time and the king castling away to the safe right—something like that works.”

“So you castle the ‘vertex’ around here, huh?”

“In math you don’t castle.”

They both chuckle softly. The librarian glances over just for a second, says nothing, and the only sound is a distant patán of a stamp.

“Okay, try this problem.”

Momoko grips the pen. But her hand hesitates in the air.

Sora softly reaches out and draws an arrow at the notebook’s edge.

“Here. Start substituting from here.”

“...Hmm, hmm.”

The pen tip runs across the paper, stops a bit, moves on. Momoko occasionally purses her lips.

“Mmm… my head’s starting to smell sweet.”

“Is that the chocolate smell?”

“Maybe. Wanna open a square?”

“Let’s not open it in the library. No eating and drinking.”

Their eyes meet for a beat; the nothing-special conversation feels a tad dangerous. Sora returns his gaze to the notebook. The pulse holds. 1, 2, 3, 4.

After solving for a while and getting correct answers in a row, Momoko’s eyes narrow cat-like.

“Done. I’m pretty good, aren’t I.”

“Yeah, the teacher is excellent.”

“In chess I’m the teacher, but today—am I the student?”

“Yeah, (cute). Student.”

At Sora’s muttered line, Momoko’s cheeks flush.

“Next, here. Trigonometry.”

“Pretty wide test coverage, huh.”

Momoko re-steadies the pen in earnest.

The clock hands move. Around 4 p.m., the shouts of after-school clubs begin to faintly drift in from the hallway outside the library.

Momoko suddenly stops her pen and whispers in profile.

“Hey, when the semester finals are over… will you go shopping with me this weekend? Harajuku and such. I’m not that familiar…”

Sora pauses his pen in midair. Harajuku—Tokyo’s youth-fashion district.

“…Do you think I’m familiar with Harajuku…?”

“L-look, in Japan there’s that custom where a boy who gets chocolate gives something back to the girl, right?”

“…That’s a March event.”

“Zamknij się (hush), in Poland it’s July (a massive lie)!”

Her voice pops, and she hurriedly claps a hand over her mouth. The librarian glances over; Momoko gives a small apology, then turns back to Sora.

“Are you coming or not? Which is it!?”

In her eyes, the light of joking and the shadow of seriousness meet right in the middle.

In Sora’s chest, the four beats stretch long by one beat.

1, 2, 3, 4. 1.

(Don’t offset here. Match the tempo properly.)

“…I’ll go.”

The words fall into the air.

A beat later, the corners of Momoko’s mouth rise, and Polish spills out.

“Głuptas (idiot). You should just say that straight! Okay then… the Saturday after finals. Harajuku Station, Takeshita Exit at 13:11.”

“Why eleven minutes?”

“…Heh-hehn, in your terms, because the pulse matches, obviously♡ Then I’ll get there a bit early and scout street snacks. You can walk in from the Sendagaya side if you want.”

(…The pulse feels a bit off with that…) “Scouting street snacks?”

“You decide the winning line in the opening.”

“Is that a chess proverb?”

“Sensei Elena’s favorite line.”

Momoko swings her legs under the table, then suddenly adds with a serious face:

“Oh right! Make sure you actually bring a phone—meeting up with someone who doesn’t have a smartphone is terrifying!”

“…Got it.”

“And if you’re late, there’s a penalty.”

“Penalty?”

“You’re treating me at Sweets Paradise!”

“Isn’t that penalty… not exactly bitter?”

“Why? Sweet is better, right?”

Her eyes are smiling. Sora smiles too. The four beats in his chest click into sync.

From the library speakers, the five-minutes-to-close announcement plays. The librarian also calls, “Please get ready to head out—”

They close their notebooks, put away their pens, and stand.

It’s still bright outside, and the cicadas are singing with force.

As they walk the hallway, they say nothing, but with the same stride, the same pulse.

At the landing, Momoko stops.

“Hey—let’s win nationals.”

“Yeah.”

“Before that, Harajuku.”

“Yeah.”

“Eat the chocolate before it melts.”

“I like soft chocolate. Japan should make it a July event too.”

“Głuptas♡”

The third Głuptas had a gentle ring.