afterword

Hello.

Here's the afterword, which means one of two things: you either

a) finished the book, or

b) you're one of those people who reads the back matter first. No judgment. Azusa would do the same thing.

She'd also analyze the word choice and develop a hypothesis about the author's emotional state based on kerning.

My name is Rubo Mirukawa, and I want to be transparent with you about something.

I did not fully know what I was writing when I started writing this.

I thought I was writing a romantic comedy. Simple genre. Established rules. Boy meets girl, girl is flustered, comedy ensues, feelings are eventually stated out loud by at least one party. Simple. Manageable. Done by chapter six.

I am a sweet summer child, aren't I? Because little did I know that what I actually wrote was a study of one girl's heroic, ongoing, and frankly impressive refusal to let anything be simple.

Azusa won. I'm the author and she won. I want that on the record. Azusa would beg me to add "notarized".

She'll still keep on winning in her own Azu way, wherever she ends up.

The original pitch to myself was: what if the love interest was just a normal guy. Not brooding. Not secretly wounded. Not in possession of a tragic backstory that explains his silence. Just a boy who is good at fixing things, says exactly what he means, and has absolutely no idea that this is the most devastating possible personality to have in the vicinity of someone who overthinks everything.

Yuta is a walking precision instrument in a story where the protagonist treats every interaction like active bomb disposal.

I thought this would be funny.

It was funny. It was also, somehow, very earnest, which I did not budget for and could not stop once it started. This is a recurring problem with my writing. The feelings arrive uninvited and start rearranging furniture like some doctorate of authorial feng-shui and by the time I notice, half the book is about something that wasn't in the outline.

I'm choosing to call this a feature.

The thing I wanted to capture — and I say "wanted" like I had a plan, which I maintain is technically true — was the specific embarrassment of being emotionally intelligent enough to diagnose your own problem in real time, and completely unable to do anything about it. Azusa knows exactly what she's doing. She can name it. She can footnote it. She can watch it happen with the detached clarity of David Attenborough.

She does it anyway.

If this sounds familiar, I'm sorry. You may want to look into that. I know I have.

The sister exists because I needed someone in the house who could clock Azusa without Azusa giving her permission to, and also because I enjoy writing people who are genuinely fond of each other and express it primarily through insults. Umeko knows what's happening before Azusa will admit it. She's been there the whole time. She's not saying anything because she doesn't have to.

She's waiting.

Uchimura is also waiting, for different reasons, and I'd strongly advise not thinking too hard about what those are.

To be honest with you — and I'm going to be, briefly, before the snark reasserts itself — I care about these characters more than is probably professionally advisable. Azusa spiraling in a supply room over a hair clip. Yuta pointing at her once because she got an answer right. Two people figuring out, slowly and sideways and at their own inconsistent speeds, that the other one is worth stopping for.

I think that's the whole story, actually.

Except it isn't, quite.

There's a reason the scratched pocket watch in the back cabinet still hasn't been restored. There's a reason Umeko keeps digging for the perfect snack. There's a reason Uchimura smiled on his way out like the game was still running.

Some mechanisms take longer than others.

Yuta would understand.

The rest is just very well-documented anxiety.

Thank you for reading. Whether you came for the romance, the comedy, the running internal monologue, or the deeply specific experience of watching someone turn a completely ordinary hallway interaction into a federal investigation — I'm glad you were here for it.

If you are currently staring at a message you've drafted and redrafted and are deciding whether to send:

Good luck.

Azusa still hasn't sent hers either.

(She will. Eventually.)

(There's time.)

This one's for CJ.

The roomie who never stopped believing in me, and is probably just relieved I actually finished something for once.

I know. Me too.

Kagami no Shoujo is also for you — that one's done, it's just marinating before the sear. 

You'll get it soon. I promise, you know it's my magnum opus after all.

Goddamn I'm hungry.