The Kimochi Warui Diary
The photos fell into the tray.
I picked one up, brought it to the light, and… Well, they were perfectly fine.
I mean, the purikura filters made my eyes freakishly large, and our cheeks were artificially red and rosy. But other than that, they turned out great!
Yuno had a sort of cat-like smirk on her face. In another picture, her hands were on her face, and her mouth was open in feigned astonishment. Another had her making a fierce glare into the camera. I was on the other side of her making my own exaggerated faces, too.
If you would have seen us based on these photos alone, you would have thought we’d been friends for a long time.
And in a way, we actually were.
Since the booth printed out two copies of the same set, we each took a copy. I put mine in the chest pocket of my jacket—a place I knew it wouldn’t get bent or folded. Yuno seemed just as pleased with her photos and slipped them into one of the pockets of her school uniform’s blazer.
Just then, my phone vibrated. Maybe Jotaro had figured out how to connect to Starbucks WiFi and was messaging me. I should definitely be getting back to him…
“Hold on a moment, Yuno.”
But it wasn’t Jotaro. It was a message from Torako.
The first message he sent was a sticker. The anime girl was bent over, like she’d had the wind knocked out of her, complete with exasperated squiggly lines above her head.
“I went back through your tweets with Yuno…” he said. “And what I saw was… Well, do you remember this?”
Torako sent a screenshot from a conversation between Yuno and I. We had been talking about the differences between American and Japanese schools.
Then he sent another screenshot. It was further down in the conversation.
In the center of this screenshot was a tweet from Yuno. Torako had turned on the auto-translate to make sure I saw exactly what he needed me to:
“School uniforms are so cute! I’m jealous of other high schools.”
Torako sent a smirking anime girl. “You see, [Watashi]…”
Then he sent another image. It was a screenshot of all my Twitter likes. Image after image of Japanese girls—real and 2D—in school uniforms.
“…I told you—your likes on Twitter are public.”
I shoved the phone back in my pocket.
When I looked up to face Yuno, she appeared completely different to me. One of her hands was playing with her hair. Her knees were showing beneath her skirt—hiked up much higher than real high schools allowed.
And the blazer—I thought of the way the sleeves covered most of her hands. Why had it appeared so big on her?
It was completely the wrong size—a mistake that would be nearly impossible to make if it were tailored to fit.
When she looked up at me, I reflexively looked away.
“Where… ” she said. “Tonight, where do you stay?”
I blurted out the truth:
But upon hearing that, her expression changed. A look of horror crept across her face.
She grabbed my hand and we took off in a sprint.