Valentines Day

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Momo said, handing out chocolate. She moved from desk to desk, systematically making her way through the class. Most of the girls gave cheerful thanks. The boys’ reactions ranged from panicked astonishment to guarded delight, until they realized she was handing out the same package to everyone. A few of them looked almost disappointed once they understood it was giri-choco. Overall, the class’s mood improved with each share of chocolate, except for one individual.

From the back of the room, it felt like a black hole was sucking the joy out of the air. Kasumi sat with her jaw clenched, teeth grinding as she watched Momo give chocolate to every other classmate. She couldn’t understand it. These people had watched Queen Bee bully Momo ruthlessly. Some had joined in, and even the “innocent” ones had been enabling bystanders. And yet Momo smiled and handed them chocolate she’d poured hours of labor and tens of thousands of yen into. Kasumi’s rage only grew with each package passed out.

Momo stopped when the homeroom bell rang. She returned to her seat, glancing back at the delighted faces as if she’d performed an outstanding magic trick. When Momo’s eyes met Kasumi’s, she tried to wear an indifferent expression. What came out instead was an icy glare.

“And she didn’t even make any for me,” Kasumi thought, squeezing the edges of the store-bought chocolate she’d brought. A pathetic little hope had flickered yesterday when Momo said she was making “special chocolate” alone. Kasumi had thought maybe the reason there hadn’t been a bag with her name on it before was that she’d get something different today. But as lunch approached, still nothing.

“It’s not like I wanted to exchange chocolate anyway,” Kasumi murmured, even as her fingers tightened around the chocolate she’d bought for Momo.

“I’ll give her one last chance,” Kasumi thought, eyes locking onto Momo as the lunch bell rang. Momo rose from her seat, stretched her arms, and wove through the desks, heading not for Kasumi but for Queen Bee.

*SHREEECK*

Kasumi’s chair scraped the floor as she shot up like a rocket. She didn’t wait to see Queen Bee’s reaction. She dashed from the classroom without a word, stomps echoing through the halls hard enough to make people move aside.

“Why?” Kasumi demanded as she literally punched her selection into the vending machine. “Why would you give her any?” The machine whirred, then stalled.

“What? Now you too?” Kasumi snapped, kicking it when it refused to dispense her milk tea. Pain shot through her foot as she yanked her heel back, staring at the fresh dent like it had personally betrayed her. A second later, the thump of the drink falling snapped her out of the spiral.

“Momo’s going to come looking for me,” she realized. “And I definitely don’t want to see her.” There was only one place she could go that Momo would never check. “Guess I have no choice,” Kasumi thought, limping toward the cafeteria.

The noise hit her before the smell did, then the smell hit her before the sight did. The mass of bodies scrabbling for line position and seats made the average MMO boss raid look like coordinated choreography. Kasumi curled into a corner behind a trash can, not even sitting at a table. She didn’t want anyone thinking she was inviting company.

She sipped her milk tea, eyes dropping to the unopened chocolate in her hand. Simple packaging. Expensive brand. Dark, with peach notes for a cleaner aftertaste. She’d spent an hour choosing it, and now it felt like the single most wasted hour of her life. “I never should’ve made the effort,” Kasumi thought, tossing it into the trash. The moment it hit the bottom of the bin, it felt like something inside her cracked. “No. Not here,” she thought, clenching her teeth and holding her breath as tears gathered anyway. “If I’m not worth making chocolates for, then she isn’t worth crying over.” She was just about to bolt for the bathroom when a familiar set of voices cut through the cafeteria din.

“OMG, can you believe what she wrote on these?” one girl asked, punctuated by trays clattering onto a table.

“Yeah, what’s with this weird writing?” another said. “Like, what do gods have to do with Valentine’s Day?”

“Maybe it’s a blessing,” a third voice said, smooth with fake sweetness. “We’ll probably need it, depending on how bad her cooking skills are.”

Kasumi’s stomach churned harder as she finally forced herself to look. Queen Bee sat at the table next to hers with her two usual lackeys. The lackeys had their backs to Kasumi, but Queen Bee’s face was front and center. Each of them had a bag of Momo’s homemade chocolate shoved to the edge of their trays like unwanted vegetables.

“So, like… do you think they’re even edible?” one lackey asked, holding the bag with two fingers like it was contaminated.

“I know, right?” the other said. “Doesn’t her family have a personal chef? Wouldn’t that mean she has no cooking experience?”

“Guess there’s only one way to find out,” Queen Bee said, flicking the bag with a nail. “Just wait and see what the rest of the class says. If they aren’t puking by fifth period, then we’ll know it was actually her chef who made them.” The two lackeys burst out laughing as Kasumi choked. Milk tea sprayed from her box. She clapped a hand over her mouth, face burning as she swallowed hard enough to make her throat hurt.

“How dare you!” Kasumi thought, staring at them with murderous intent. “Even if Momo’s only just started that skill tree, you have no idea how hard she worked. And you’re insulting it? Why don’t you try being thankful you got anything at all?”

Her vision felt redder with every joke. She nearly crushed the tea box into diamonds when a new sound detonated from Queen Bee’s table.

*BAM!*

The slap reverberated through the cafeteria, silencing nearby tables in a rippling wave. Kasumi’s jaw dropped as she realized what had happened. A boy was standing over Queen Bee, his palm flat on the table. Something else sat under his hand; Kasumi couldn’t see what from her angle. His head was turned away from her so she couldn’t recognize him, but his posture screamed fury as he stared Queen Bee down. She was startled, then recovered fast, plastering on a smile like she’d practiced it in a mirror.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Queen Bee asked, making it painfully clear he wasn’t welcome.

“This,” the boy said, shoving a bag of chocolate right into her face. “Know what this is?”

“Why do you have my darling’s chocolate?” she asked.

“So you did give it to him!” the boy yelled, drawing every eye in the cafeteria to their table. “I don’t know what you think he did, or why you wanted to break up, but that’s not how you do it.” The air shifted, confusion rippling outward. Queen Bee’s face scrunched as if she’d just heard the world’s dumbest rumor.

“What are you talking about?” she snapped, rising to her feet. “I put a lot of effort into making that chocolate, and I don’t appreciate you badmouthing me in front of the whole school.”

“Try it, then,” the boy demanded. Without hesitation, Queen Bee snatched the bag and shoved the biggest chunk of the now-smashed chocolate into her mouth. She chewed once. Twice. Then gagged so hard her shoulders jolted.

“What’s wrong?” one lackey squeaked, suddenly too nervous to laugh. Queen Bee huffed, bent forward, and gagged again, face twisting like she’d eaten a spoonful of poison.

“I can’t believe you’d do something like this to your boyfriend,” the boy said, voice shaking with disgust. “You two are through, you hear me? Never come near him again. Or better yet, go die for all I care.”

With that, the boy stormed out of the cafeteria through a path the students had cleared, as if he were a VIP. Before he even reached the doors, the whispers began spreading. Conversations collapsed into one giant rumor mill. Kasumi didn’t jockey for a closer look like everyone else. She slipped through the crowd with a hand over her nose and mouth, grinning so hard her face hurt.

The grin stayed all day. Nothing dimmed it, not her nosebleed, not the absence of chocolates from Momo, not even the teacher scolding her for being late because she’d had to deal with the nosebleed.

“I can’t believe it worked so perfectly,” Kasumi thought on repeat. She’d expected some chaos, sure, but not that public. Not that clean. Not with her getting a front-row seat.

“Nothing could make this day better,” she muttered as the last bell rang.

“Oh, can’t it?” Momo asked, startling Kasumi out of her daydream. Kasumi flinched hard enough to feel it in her ribs.

“Ah—oh,” she managed, catching herself mid-yell. “It’s you.”

“The one and only,” Momo said, pressing a hand to her chest. “Here to make your day better one minute at a time.”

“Hmph,” Kasumi huffed, turning away.

“Aw, why the long face?” Momo teased. “Did somebody try giving chocolates to a boy only for him to reject them?” Kasumi’s delight dried up instantly.

“Give chocolates!” Kasumi thought, eyes flashing red.

“No, I just watched you—” Kasumi began, ready to unleash a whole tirade about fairness and priorities and how Momo gave everyone everything. Then she saw what Momo was holding. A delicately wrapped plastic bag covered in hearts. Inside were seven neat brown circles with pistachios sprinkled on top. Kasumi’s eyes refused to move. Her brain didn’t feel real. Her body didn’t feel real.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Momo cheered, pushing the bag into Kasumi’s hands. “Sorry it took so long. I had to give you yours last because—”

Kasumi didn’t hear a single word after yours.

“She… she didn’t forget me,” Kasumi thought, over and over, like repeating it would keep it from evaporating. Momo kept talking, something about effort, something about planning, something about not wasting what they’d done, then Kasumi noticed droplets forming on the plastic.

It took her a second to understand why. Warm wetness rolled down her cheeks. The dam that had cracked earlier wasn’t breaking anymore. It was gone.

“Hey, come on,” Momo said softly, voice wobbling. “You haven’t even tasted it yet. If you cry like that, you’ll make it salty.” But Kasumi couldn’t stop her tears, and they dragged Momo into crying with her. By the time the tears finally slowed, both of them had gone through a whole package of tissues.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” Kasumi said, voice small and wrecked, preparing to confess she’d thrown away Momo’s store-bought chocolate.

“Don’t worry about it,” Momo said, like she already knew. “I wanted to surprise you, so I wasn’t expecting tomo-choco.” She hesitated, then looked down and fidgeted with the edge of the bag. “Though… there’s something else I’d like to ask for, if I may.”

“Anything,” Kasumi said without hesitation. Momo rubbed her hands together, as if warming them.

“Can…” she began, as if hesitating to speak her mind. “Can we call each other by our given names?” Momo asked. “I feel like it’s weird for best friends to use family names. But only if you’re okay with it. We can still use honorifics, too. I wouldn’t want you to feel—”

“All right, Momo,” Kasumi said, cutting her off.

She wasn’t sure why her chest felt like it was full of butterflies, or why saying it made the world feel a fraction warmer. What she did know was that deep inside her, something soft finally melted, a decade of cold isolation dissolving, just a little, at the sound of a name.