The App And The Match

"I just want a girlfriend, like, so bad."

I slump my head down on the dining table following my pathetic declaration.

"Listen, little bro, like I've been telling you, it's all about the confidence." From the corner of my eye, I see my sister flip a pancake without even looking, catching it perfectly in the pan. "Girls like a guy who knows what he wants and just goes for it. None of that sappy vibe you're giving off right now."

I lift my head back up to watch her move around the kitchen. She hums a tune to herself and dances while simultaneously flipping more pancakes and pouring fresh batter. It's a miracle she hasn't set the apartment on fire with her recklessness.

But as usual, my older sister's advice misses the mark. My entire middle school era consisted of me finding confidence and confessing to girls. Each confession ended in rejection, leaving me with nothing but embarrassment and completely broke. I spent so much of my lunch money on chocolates and flowers that ended up going nowhere.

"You of all people should know it's not for lack of trying, big sis," I say to her. "Back in middle school, I approached every single girl I fell for and poured my heart out to each one of them. What did I get in return? Absolutely nothing. Just a bunch of worthless 'let's just be friends' and 'you're such a nice guy' bullcrap."

My sister walks over to the table and drops a few pancakes onto my plate.

"And that right there, that's the problem," she says. "How many of those girls you—quote unquote—'fell in love with' actually showed romantic interest in you before your confessions?"

She studies my face as I think of the answer.

"None I can remember."

"Aha!" She jumps, pointing the oversized skillet at me accusingly. "You see the problem now, right? You didn't wait to see if any of those girls liked you back before telling them how you feel. You just assumed, probably because they were being nice to you. News flash, little bro. Being nice doesn't mean they actually like you. And I'm pretty sure you never stayed friends with them long enough for romance to eventually form. You just jumped straight into it. Am I right?"

"Are you trying to help me or are you just making fun of me?" I reply with a deadpan expression. "Also, didn't you just say girls like a guy who's confident? Me approaching them first with a confession. Wasn't that confident? Hot? Sexy? Dare I say, the peak of masculinity?"

My sister smiles and walks back into the kitchen.

"You have so much to learn, little bro," she says. "In the meantime, I recommend either forgetting all about that relationship nonsense and focusing on your studies, or if you must, change your approach. Because your current one is obviously not working."

"A change in strategy, you say?" I ponder, stroking my chin in thought.

I continue to consider her words even as I begin eating. Soon she finishes in the kitchen and joins me at the table with her own plate of food.

"What do you recommend, oh lovely big sister of mine?" I ask.

"Huh?" My sister replies, a pancake shoved halfway into her mouth. She blinks at me in confusion.

"You said I need a change in strategy. So I'm asking. What do you recommend?"

"Oh! I see you're ignoring the other part about focusing on your studies instead. But sure, I'll help."

She takes a sip of her orange juice, swallows, then returns her attention to me from across the table.

"Dating apps," she says, followed by a quick burp.

"Dating apps?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Dating apps," she confirms, nodding her head. "They're much simpler to navigate, way easier to meet new people, they make communication much faster, and, not to mention, the algorithm only matches you with potential partners who have similar interests as you."

My sister then takes out her phone as she explains, unlocking the device.

"Here, have a look. This is the one I use."

I accept the phone from her and begin inspecting it.

"I didn't know you used a dating app," I say.

"Nah, I mainly use it as a way to get free food these days. You know how it works. Whenever I match with a guy, we go out a couple times. He treats me to free stuff, nice restaurants, shopping, all of that. And at the end of the day, we find a hotel, and I..."

Nope.

I quickly reach out with my fork from across the table and stuff a pancake into her mouth.

"For the love of god and me, your younger brother, please do not finish that sentence."

"All right, fine, fine." She says through full cheeks, her voice muffled as she smiles and swallows. "I hear myself, and I hear where this sounds like it's headed. To clarify though, I was going to say, I ghost them afterward. I make up an excuse and ditch them on the spot. Don't worry little bro, I still got my V-card intact."

She flashes me a double thumbs up, grinning like an idiot, one eye closed in a wink.

"This creep," I mutter. "Why the hell do you think I would be worried about that? And do you think swindling all those men out of their money makes you any more of a saint?"

Sighing, I return my attention to the phone.

On the app, I see my sister has a ton of notifications and unread messages. I can understand why she's one of the popular ones on the platform. Her short chestnut hair and sharp eyes tick every box on the conventional-pretty girl checklist. So of course guys are gonna line up for her.

But could this really help me as well?

"Okay, let's do it."

"Let's do what?" My sister blinks at me in confusion again as she stabs at her food.

How has she already lost concentration this fast? I only stopped talking to her for like two seconds.

"The app. Ruka, the app. Are you sure you're still taking your medication? Is this how you zone out in college during classes?"

My sister just smiles nervously in response, her eyes darting around the room in search of an excuse.

"Busted," she willingly admits on her own, raising her hands in surrender.

"Please don't tell Mom and Dad."

***

Breakfast concludes with my sister helping me open an account and fill out my profile. I still have some other information to upload, but I will do that later.

Arriving at school, I meet a familiar sight that always makes my stomach churn in disgust.

Couples. Everywhere. Holding hands, smiling at each other, laughing together, sharing small talk, jokes, and other intimate couple stuff, no doubt.

I fill to the brim with envy. My eyes sting with the prick of incoming tears. I sniffle once, twice—then I snap. Complete mental breakdown right there on the sidewalk.

"This isn't fair. Why do they get to be happy and I don't? I want love too. I want a girlfriend. Is that too much to ask?"

In the halls, I'm stuffing books into my locker when something shifts. The air tightens. Oppressive. Heavy with malice. With something evil.

I soon realize the cause.

A shadow has fallen over the entire school. A chill hangs in the air, raising hairs on the back of every neck in the hallway.

Around me, conversations abruptly die, quickly drowning into the ether of silence. All of our heads turn in unison to face the entrance, our eyes locking onto the lone figure standing there, silhouetted by the morning sun behind them.

Kurokawa Yuki, a living, breathing urban legend from the shadows, now personified in front of us.

Her long, black hair cascades over her shoulders and down her back. Her porcelain-pale skin seems to almost glow under the fluorescent corridor lights. And her eyes, a deep, unsettling red, gleam with an eerie intensity as they scan the crowd.

She's the only one not wearing a uniform. Instead, she wears a black Gothic Lolita dress with squared shoulders, lace trimming the collar, and ribbons trailing from the sleeves. Around her neck, sits a black choker.

She always looks like this. Like she stepped out of a different century entirely.

And the school, as far as we all know, didn't have a problem with it for some reason. But that favor doesn't extend to the rest of us students. Just her.

Moving, she doesn't walk so much as glide forward. The sea of students parts before her as she cuts through the crowd. Nobody wants to be close. Nobody dares speak or even breathe in her presence.

This is when the whispers begin.

"That's her right? Kurokawa?"

"Yeah. But don't look at her. Whatever you do, don't make eye contact. They say she can steal your soul just by looking at you."

A girl beside me whispers in her friend's ear. "She's a senior, right? I heard she killed someone back in middle school."

Her friend nods. "That's what everyone says. Nobody knows the details, but... just look at her. She looks like she's totally capable of offing someone."

The murmurs and rumors only intensify as Kurokawa continues to walk through the crowd of students, entirely unfazed by everything going on around her.

"My cousin said she saw her dragging a trash bag into the woods once. What do you think was inside?"

"Beats me, but I heard she keeps dead animals in her locker."

"What? You serious? That's so disgusting."

"That's Kurokawa Yuki for you."

"Yeah I heard that too. You know, someone actually looked inside once. Said there was blood."

"I believe that. My older sister is in her class and she says she carries a jar of blood in her handbag."

I shouldn't listen to all the rumors. I know I shouldn't. But like everybody else, I can't look away from her. I freeze with overwhelming shock and intrigue.

Kurokawa soon passes by and heads for her class. The eerie feeling lingers for a moment even in her absence. But slowly, everybody goes back to what they were doing. Conversations restart. Footsteps resume. The hallway shuffles with noise and motion as everybody breathes again.

After I finish collecting my stuff from my locker, I head off. But as I pass by an open classroom door, I catch sight of her again.

Kurokawa sits alone at the very back of the room, her usual spot from what I've heard. She reaches into her bag, pulling something out.

A jar.

Filled with red liquid.

"What the...?"

"Huh?"

In that moment, the previous rumors flash through my mind. She puts dead animals in her locker. She drags trash bags into the woods. She keeps a jar of blood in her handbag.

A jar of blood.

My brain short-circuits. Is that... no. It can't be. There's gotta be some kind of misunderstanding somewhere.

She lifts the jar and places it on her desk. Stares at it for a moment. Then she unscrews the lid, dips her finger inside, and brings it to her lips. She tastes it, licking her finger in enjoyment.

"..."

I freeze with terror, my mouth hanging open in shock. Nobody else is around to see what I just witnessed. On that note, what the hell did I even just witness?

Was that? Did she just? Nope. I need to go before she sees me. Before she sees that I saw her, before she casts a curse on me or something.

I try sneaking away, but even slowly lifting my leg catches her attention. She snaps her head up, locking eyes with me.

Shit.

My stomach drops.

A streak of red is plastered against the side of her mouth. She licks it while staring directly at me.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

I don't wait to see what happens next. I'm already power-walking to my own classroom, telling myself I did not see anything.

What girl?

What jar?

What red liquid?

Yup, I saw nothing.

***

Later that night, Ruka is putting the finishing touches on my profile while I brush my teeth. I'm in the bathroom and she lays on my bed in her evening wear, a baggy brown shirt and purple shorts.

"And what are your hobbies?" She asks, raising her voice so I can hear her over the running water.

I briefly stop to spit out toothpaste before replying.

"Ah, anime, movies, games. You know, the works."

"I said hobbies, little bro. Not interests."

I peer out the bathroom door to look at my sister.

"What do you mean, hobbies?"

"Otaku weirdo." Ruka sighs, lightly slapping her forehead. "I mean things like going on walks, camping, playing the keyboard. Things like that."

"Oh." I reply, thinking for a moment as I stare up at space.

"Yeah, I got nothing. Just put those ones down."

I dip back into the bathroom to continue brushing.

"You sure?" She calls out.

"Yeah."

"All right, whatever you say, you little liar."

Wait, what do you mean by that?

She laughs. "And you want me to use these pictures, right? You kind of look dorky in some of them." she pauses. "Scratch that—you look dorky in all of them."

"Yeah, yeah. Anyone who falls in love with me should do so with the real me," I reply.

"You mean a liar?"

"Shut up."

A few seconds later, Ruka calls out. "Okay, that should do it. Your profile is ready."

"Wait, really?"

I finish brushing and step out of the bathroom, reaching for my phone.

"Hold on, idiot." She snatches it back from my hands. "Let me show you how it works first."

She scrolls through the app, pointing at the screen.

"Whenever you see a girl you might be interested in, like this one, you swipe right to send a match request. If you're not interested, you swipe up to keep scrolling. Got it?"

"Yeah. Yes." I reach out to collect the phone, but she extends her hand farther from me.

"Say thank you first."

"Seriously?" I ask.

"Of course, doofus. Show appreciation to your older sister for helping you out with this. You're one step closer to getting laid."

I sigh in resignation. Other than the inappropriate joke, she did have a point. She helped me out. The least I could do is show my gratitude.

"Thank you, Ruka-san," I say to her, even adding a little bow as a sign of my genuine respect.

She freezes momentarily, taken aback by my appreciation, but then she composes herself.

"Good. Here." She tosses the phone over. "Go nuts."

I catch it midair, take a seat on my bed, and immediately begin scrolling.

"I'm going to grab a snack," she says. "Later gator."

"Yeah, yeah. Bye." I wave my sister off, focusing on the newly desired task in front of me.

So many profiles fill the screen. It's like a treasure chest of hot girls resting in the palm of my hand. After a few minutes of swiping right on pretty much everyone, throwing match requests out willy-nilly, one profile makes me stop and observe.

There are already so many beautiful girls on the platform, but for some reason this one person steals my breath away.

Her eyes are the first thing I notice. A fiery crimson—like two glowing emeralds. Her skin is ghostly pale, so white it nearly resembles porcelain. Jet black hair spills down over her shoulder and back, catching the light of whatever ring lamp she's using. She's dressed in a fitted bikini top that shows off her very generous curves, leaving nearly nothing to the imagination.

Holy mother of angels. It was love at first sight. Who is this girl? I must see more of her.

I click on her profile and begin scrolling through her page. Photo after photo, each one further steals my breath away. She's extremely beautiful. Hot, sexy. The whole package. However, after a while I begin to notice a recurring theme in her pictures.

Most of the clothes she wore were either black or some darker shade of grey. The lighting in every shot felt moody, almost deliberate, like she was posing in the shadows on purpose.

Then, after some more scrolling, I finally see one photo. A ghostly white girl. Raven colored hair. Red eyes. Dressed in Gothic Lolita attire that looks like it came from a century ago.

Holy crap.

I nearly dropped the phone.

My breath catches in my throat, and this time it isn't from fascination or attraction.

It is pure terror.

This picture. I know this girl.

Kurokawa. Kurokawa Yuki.

The upperclassman from school. The one everybody suspects to be some kind of serial killer.

I can't believe it.

Although she is using a different name instead of her real one, it's her. It's 100% her.

I should swipe up. Ignore her profile. That's the smart choice. The only choice. Pretend I never saw it. Or even safer—just back out of the app entirely.

Yes, yes.

That's the plan.

That's the only plan.

I press my thumb to the center of the screen, ready to swipe up and ignore, but then I hesitate, lingering on one of her pictures.

Okay, yes, she's beautiful. Yes, her features border on strange. And yes, the black choker she wears around her neck does bring out her eyes. But beyond all the rumors and stories... she just looks like an ordinary girl with a thing for dark aesthetics.

Should I maybe swipe right?

Hell no!

Of course not.

What is wrong with me?

Am I that desperate?

Rumor or not, I shouldn't associate with her. She's my senior. My upperclassman. I don't think she will even want to match with me. She'll probably just ignore my request.

With my thumb still pressing down, I ready myself to swipe up and ignore.

And my sister chooses that moment to push my door open.

"Hey Lil bro, I forgot to—"

Startled, I jump, and my thumb instantly sweeps across the screen.

Hold on...

What direction was that?

The screen processes something as an animated loading icon spins.

The app sends a request.

Right.

Holy crap I swiped right.

I stare at my thumb. At the screen. Back at my thumb.

Holy crap. I swiped right.

The screen loads for a moment, showing me a message that I've run out of free swipes for the day. Soon after, a notification pops up.

I almost laugh with relief. Since I received the alert, maybe the gesture did not even register...

"Congratulations! You have one new match!"

My heart drops.

The profile that pops up.

It's hers.

Kurokawa Yuki's.

No. No, no, no.

I turn to Ruka, eyes wide in horror. She's standing in the doorway, confused by my expression.

"Uh... big sis?"

"Yeah? What's with the face? You look like you've just seen a ghost or something."

I hold out the phone so she can see. The red eyes. The black dress. The choker. The porcelain skin.

"I think I just matched with a serial killer."