Your Face In The Mirror

“It’s… not… quite… like… it…” Sumire let out a long sigh as her hands dropped from her face.

Dressed in floral-patterned pajamas, she stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom. The same disappointed face was sent back to her by her reflection.

Her bedroom was filled with the scent of flowers, a soothing and sweet atmosphere that felt like a hug. It was as if one were resting on a bed of blossoms—with no insects to crawl on the body and eat one alive.

The furniture, as normal as it was—the bed, the wardrobe, the mirror, the desk—was all radiating flowers. Sumire had taken the time to personalize it exactly as she wished it to be.

Bouquets of flowers in various colors adorned her bookshelf, her desk, and even her windowsill. But that wasn't all. Photos of her in flower fields, flower-shaped stickers, bedsheets—all of it symbolized her passion for those beautiful blooms that graced her everyday life.

Still, with all that, her bedroom was kept clean, neat, and tidy, a symbol of the studious and admired student she was.

Yet, the habitual cold beauty was not doing her best to keep that marble face that made more than one person swoon.

“Maybe more like this?” she whispered, focusing hard on the keychain in the palm of her hand.

She looked back at herself in the mirror and tried once again what she had failed many times, though it looked like she was doing faces.

She barely opened her eyes and mimicked the cat’s strange smile, her own face distorted into something that everyone, including her, could never have imagined she would do.

“This looks stupid…” she thought, staring at herself through the small gap in her eyes. “If only I could be more expressive… Why? I don’t even know myself… Damn cat, you’re not helping me learn!”

Someone knocked on the door, but Sumire didn’t hear it, still staring at herself.

“Dinner’s served, Sum–!” Her mom stepped back. “Oh, darling! Quick, call an exorcist! A demon has possessed our daughter!”

Sumire spun around in an instant. She had been caught off guard by her mother, who was laughing so hard she could barely stand. Sumire’s fake smile dropped. She shoved the keychain behind her back and quickly tried to look calm.

“You could have knocked… Mom,” she said, still shaken by the surprise.

“I did! But apparently you thought it’d be fun to star in a horror show and give me a heart attack instead,” her mother gasped between giggles.

“I need to muddy the waters… or else I’m officially dead…” Sumire muttered to herself.

“Well, I’m glad you’re having fun,” her mother said, still chuckling, but with a faint, knowing smile. “Now eat and sleep. You have class tomorrow and a match this weekend. I’m pretty sure you don’t want to show up looking like a zombie.”

She left, closing the door with a flourish, leaving Sumire blinking in disbelief.

“What do I look like now? A loony person?”

~~~¤¤¤~~~

The next morning, she saw Yuto from afar, chatting as always with Ryu and Ken.

She froze as if a spell had been cast on her by his mere sight.

Standing there for too long could only attract attention, including Yuto's, who didn't fail to stare straight into her eyes. When their gazes met, she tried to smile—not the one she had trained with the keychain, a less terrifying one. Just a smile. A normal smile. Not too faint to be unseen, but not too pronounced to show overjoy.

But since it was truly the first time she did this, it went horribly wrong. Only the right half of her mouth opened, showing her teeth, while the other side didn’t move at all, staying frozen in place. Maybe she was truly having a stroke.

Yuto looked away, much to Sumire's dismay, who watched her half-smile melt away like snow in the sun.

“What am I even doing…”

She clutched her chest as her heart stung her with inexplicable spasms each time her eyes fell on Yuto.

“It hurts since the other day… Stop… stupid heart!”

She looked at him again as he turned back.

One particular thing had changed on his face. He was mimicking the failed smile she had just made. Not to shame her. Not to judge her. He was giving her confidence in the shameful moment she thought she had lived.

He waved to her before Ryu and Ken grabbed him by each arm and dragged him away, his feet scraping against the ground like those of an uncooperative child.

“This training… wasn’t for nothing…” she thought as she clutched her chest harder and a faint red color began to taint her cheeks.

But the sweetest and most surprising thing was the faint smile that was drawn on her face as warmth spread through her body. Not a forced smile—a natural one, coming without artifice from the depths of her being.

“Ah! Yozora! How’s it going?”

“Oh, Amano. I’m doing well. Do you want to go to the building together?” Sumire replied to her friend who had appeared behind her back—the same friend who had seen her sniff a yellow flower with all her soul.

Amano appeared behind her back when the situation was not quite right for it, every time. Better watch your back next time, Sumire.

Amano tried to face Sumire, but Sumire just turned around, trying to avoid being seen at that moment.

“Why am I even doing–”

Sumire stopped spinning around because of her insistent friend and tried to keep her balance as her weak legs began to give in. The focus in her eyes was in disarray.

“Wow… calm down, Yozora. Look at you… all red from spinning. Or should I read you like the open book you are and say you didn’t want me to see what you were truly thinking while staring at those guys?” Amano said teasingly, holding Sumire back, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

“It was all because I was spinning!” Sumire replied firmly as Amano shot her a doubtful look.

They went to the restroom to drink some water, and then Sumire painfully staggered to the hall, holding onto Amano. There, she sat down to rest.

“Now I can say what I wanted to say earlier,” Amano began, sitting next to Sumire. “Apparently there’s a kind of festival next month. Fun, isn’t it? But the theater club wants to perform a new play for the occasion and they’re in terrible need of actresses, so they’re holding a casting tomorrow!”

“Theater? That could be… No, I won’t do well.”

“By the way, I already signed you up for the casting call. You're coming tomorrow at 11:00 a.m. Don't thank me, I know you love me. See you later, alligator.”

And she stormed out of the hall like a crazy woman who'd just dropped a bombshell in the room.

Sumire was left speechless.

“And what about my consent? Isn't that supposed to be the most important thing above all else?” she murmured to herself, eyes wide open.

Back home, panic settled in and took hold of her.

“I’m totally dead… Dead! I don’t know how to act! I don’t know… Ah, and this troublesome guy might be there too! What should I do? What should I do!?”

She noticed her tennis bag at the side of her bedroom and pulled out a new racket. Her dad had bought another one, only grumbling a bit when he had been told what happened to the last victim.

“Breathe, Sumire. Act like always!”

She practiced her forehands in her room, swinging with all her strength to clear her mind of the stress that filled it.

After long minutes, after sweating a lot, her breath slowed and calm returned.

“Now… the panic will stay inside. It must stay inside! I will do it! I’ll prove I can perform well just like that on the spot!”

~~~¤¤¤~~~

“Hanamori!”

Sumire let out a small scream as she combed her hair in front of her mirror. She thought she had seen Yuto’s face in the mirror just behind her.

She turned around. Nothing.

“A hallucination?” she thought, resuming her preparation. “It’s starting to be annoying to have these kinds of hallucinations… When will he leave my mind? I’m not renting it to anyone else but me…”

At college, even more gazes turned to focus on her as she walked toward the casting room. She had made herself prettier than usual—not to impress anyone in particular, or so she was convinced.

In a corridor, in front of a secluded room that no one really frequented, she waited by the door for someone to come and get her.

“Sumire Yozora?” the voice asked as the door opened. “You can come in now.”

Sumire followed the person and entered the room with overflowing confidence.

In front of her stood a table, and behind it three people were seated, waiting to judge her. But one judge caught her attention. Yuto was one of them. This prodigy who had played so well the other day would be in charge of her casting.

“Why him out of all people? I didn’t know he would be a judge…” Sumire panicked, clenching her fist to keep it from being obvious.

Yuto was surprised to see her, and his face didn’t hide it well.

He scrutinized her meticulously with a very attentive expression. Sumire felt exposed and barely able to swallow.

“What… what does he want?”

“Yeah. We don’t need her,” Yuto said dryly.

Sumire was stunned. The shock was so great that she almost fell backward—but she held her usual calm and cool expression.

“Dumbass,” she said coldly, a tinge of anger in her voice and a haughty air about her.

She left the room in a hurry, not listening to anything the other judges were saying, barely paying attention to what was happening around her.

“And I would’ve loved to see him perform again… from up close…”

“Wait! Yozora!” one of the judges shouted, closing the distance between them.

She stopped to listen, her face far from welcoming. Cold anger flowed from it.

“Well… you can come back. Don’t worry. Hanamori won’t be a judge for your performance. So please, don’t worry too much about him.”

“Oh well, since I'm here I might as well do it. It's not like something else will happen.”

Her anger faded. She let herself be convinced and came back to the room.

When she entered, the first thing she saw was Yuto put in the corner, facing the wall like a child who had just been punished for his misdeeds.

Inwardly, Sumire laughed.