But that still doesn’t feel like enough

I don’t think this girl will ever stop surprising me.

True to her word, come lunch break, Hinata marches into the classroom with a mousy Sasaki in tow. It’s funny, the picture. Though they’re roughly the same height, one is clearly the mother in the relationship, while the other is the petulant child.

“Icchan has something she’d like to say,” Hinata announces as soon as they reach my desk. Sasaki gives her a frown, receives an insistent glare back, then, locking eyes with me, starts bargaining.

“Do I really have to do it? I already told you I’m sorry.”

“Ichika,” Hinata presses and the strong use of her first name makes Ichika crumble.

“Hibana, please. I’ll do anything. I’ll buy you dinner. Or a dress. Or a car. Or an entire –“

“Sasaki-sa–”

“Fine!” Sasaki yells, taking a deep breath before letting her head fall in a practised bow. Then, with a voice I’m sure she used plenty of times before, she gives me her best script.

“I, Sasaki Ichika, do humbly apologise for any offence that you might’ve sustained as a result of my actions. To pave the road to repairing our strained relations, it would do me a great honour should you accept this token of my remorse,” she ends, placing a ten-thousand-yen bill on my notebook. In mint condition too, as if it were fresh off the press.

“Well?” Hinata asks. And when I realise that she’s talking to me, I shake the confused grimace off my face and blink twice to wake up from this extremely weird dream.

“Right, erm… thanks, Ichi –” Ichika grunts “– Sasaki. It means a lot.”

“I am most glad,” she replies, straightening up with a welded-on smile. “Can I go now?”

And before Hinata can even nod to dismiss her, Ichika trudges out the door, probably already planning how to get revenge on me. A probability Hinata is well aware of, seeing how she spills over my desk, groaning out the last bits of her sanity.

“There, there,” I pat her head. “You okay?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Long day?”

“Thanks… Ichika… stupid…”

“Why are you even friends with her?”

“Because,” Hinata lifts up her chin, gazing out the window, “she’s actually a very nice and earnest girl – despite her quirks. And because I feel sorry for her.”

“Well, rich snotty girls sure are pitiable.”

“No, actually it’s because…” she looks left and right, then beckons me closer. And when I lean over, she puts her lips to my ear, her hot breath leaving a flustered pit in my stomach. But then, her sultry whisper fills it with unease.

“I only started getting close to Ichika because of her family’s business.”

Her words linger in the little space between us, a heavy, bittersweet fog.

“Sure, that was a while ago. That mission is over and done with,” she continues. “And now? Well, I can safely call her my only real friend. I tell her about my day, she complains about her parents, and we hang out as often as our busy schedules allow it. But even so, the guilt won’t stop eating at me.

“Happens when you build a relationship on a lie, I guess.”

But that’s the thing with her – she’s only ever been truthful to me. Sometimes outright, sometimes in her roundabout, socially stunted ways, but she’s never given me any reason not to trust her. So, when she says something like this, so poignant, yet resolute – I don’t know if I should take it as an omen for what’s to come, or just a remorse she can’t get rid of.

“But it’s real now, isn’t it?” I ask and she turns to me, searches for judgment in my eyes and comes out empty handed. Much to her confusion.

“Who can tell? I think it is and Ichika always has. But that still doesn’t feel like enough.”

“Don’t be like that, c’mon. Sure, you didn’t have the best intentions at the start, but it all turned out okay. Who cares about –”

“I care, Luca,” she says.

“But why?”

“Because I’d do it again if I didn’t.”

Pause. For a long second, we hold each other’s tight stare, until she waves away the tension with a sigh. Back on her feet, Hinata walks over to her bag and pulls out a small bento box, ornate with a flower motif and tied with a pink ribbon.

“Did you pack a lunch?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I answer, pulling a sandwich out of my bag.

“Is that all you have to eat?”

“Don’t really need much else, honestly. Besides, I’m used to hefty dinners.”

She frowns at my excuse, but I’m sure she would’ve let it slide, had my stomach not growled just now.

“Right, you’ll be sharing some of mine and I won’t be taking no for an answer. Now come on, chop-chop.”

Hinata smiles, a bright cheeky smile that holds no trace of melancholy. She’s moved on from the earlier conversation and, since it’s Ichika of all people, I should probably do the same. No point giving that goblin any more thought than she warrants.

Besides, as Hinata leads me out of the building, round the football pitch and down a shaded path at the back of the yard, it’s pretty hard to think about anything other than –

“Where are we going?” I ask when it doesn’t feel like we’re going to stop anytime soon. But just then, Hinata picks up the pace, dashing behind a dense bush with a tinkling giggle. And when I follow right after, I understand why she was so eager to bring me here.

Sunlight filters in through the crown of a tall maple tree, the gentle breeze making it rain down with samaras. In its dazzling shadow lies a bench, an old piece of wood carrying with it all the elegance of simplicity of Japanese tradition. Far at the back, the concrete walls encircling the schoolgrounds meet in a corner, overgrown with ivy and sparse sprouts of wisteria.

And as soon as I step on the tepid grass, there’s no doubt in my head that I’m going to come here until the day I leave.

* * *

It’s not long before eating together becomes part of Hinata and I’s daily routine.

Before all else, it’s cosy. With only squirrels and songbirds to keep us company in our little nook, we’re free to enjoy lunch away from prying eyes. Or any meddlesome eavesdroppers that would tune into our conversations.

Because more than we eat, we talk. Because Hinata said we have to, and though she also said it doesn’t have to be this often or like this, I would be lying if I said this wasn’t the highlight of my day.

For one, it helped me to ask questions I knew had difficult answers.

“Is your mother all right?”

Because observing her reaction taught me how best to phrase them.

“Been better, been worse,” Hinata would shrug her shoulders, watching a beetle crawl up the bench’s leg. “Her symptoms come and go. There are times she’s in so much pain she can’t even go to the bathroom without my help. Others when she’ll walk two miles to and from a grocery store because she read about a sale online.”

“God, that’s – horrible… What does she do for a living then?”

Light left Hinata’s face back then. “Nothing,” she absently mumbled. “Oyama pays all our bills – in exchange for my services.”

And I learnt I should never assume, but rather make sure first.

Then, there came the reverse. When she would throw me hardballs, and I had to hit them back.

“Do you and your father get along?”

“Why would you think we don’t?”

“You said he spoils your sister. And you seem anything but pampered.”

“He’s – okay.”

“I never asked how he was.”

Because the longer I avoided them, the worse the pain got.

I sighed, “I don’t know, really. I don’t see him all that often and I’m starting to think he likes that. But it’s cool. He doesn’t pick up my phone calls, but he texts back. I thought it was an automated response at first, but it’s actually him. He has the same dry wit when he writes the memos for all my allowance transfers. Though that wasn’t there when Anna and I got our birthday letter that one time. But it’s fine. His job is important. Very important. So, I get that he doesn’t have the time to come home that often. It’s okay. I’m cool. I’m –“

I was so caught on in my explanation, that I missed her getting up, missed her opening up her arms and closing them around me.

“What are you doing?” I shakily asked.

“Giving you a hug.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“Because I feel like you really need one.”

It was the first time she hugged me, and it wouldn’t be her last. And as I lay there melting, head gently pressed against her chest, hearing her heart beating, and thinking it beat for me, for the first time in my life I almost started crying. And for the first time in my life, I thought that’d be fine.

Because she’d be there for me, if only I opened up.

And in return, I wanted to be there for her too. And Kisaki’s assignment would’ve helped that, should it have ever arrived.

A day passed, and I heard nothing. No text, no phone call, no covert meeting at school, no kidnapping off the street. Then another, then one more and soon enough, I started getting antsy.

“Something came up,” Kisaki said when I asked him. “Hinata will know more.”

But when I talked to Hinata, she only made me more doubtful.

“I don’t know anything about that,” she said with an exhausted frown. She never looked me in the eyes once that day. That’s how I knew she was lying. That and the way it felt – like I was shunned away.

That was on Monday.

That was Monday. I didn’t ask her again and now, well into Friday, I’m still thinking about it.

The bell rings for lunch and before Hinata can swing by, Ichika spawns at our door. Meekly, she waves Hinata over. Hinata relents and follows her into the hallway. Curious, I watch their talk through the window, and though my lip-reading is terrible, I still get the gist from body language alone.

Ichika wants to hang out, group study or movies or something, but Hinata blows her off. And when she peeks at me, I know I’m the reason why, which Ichika sorely hates. But a realisation dawns on her. She balls her fists, nods sourly, then leaves off in a hurry.

“What did Ichika want?” I ask Hinata as I pop open my lunch. Chicken katsu with egg rice. “You want some?”

“No thanks,” Hinata says. “And she asked me to help her with something tomorrow, but I had to say no.”

“How come? Are you busy?”

She pauses for a second. Not to check her calendar, but to find an excuse.

“Yeah, I’m helping out mum.”

“With what?”

“Eating.”

I watch her shutting her eyes, mentally slapping herself. If I weren’t a little upset right now, I’d probably find that funny.

“You mean cooking?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean that’s not gonna take you all day, is it? Can you not spare Ichika a moment of your time?”

“No, erm,” she stammers, “Oyama’s got me booked for the evening right after.”

I suck my teeth, “Damn, that’s a busy day.” And when she sighs in agreement, I know it’s time to press on. “Sounds like you could really use some time off.”

“It’s – okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure? You seem pretty tense. Tell you what, why don’t I talk to Kisaki about it? See if I can cover one of your gigs for you as part of my test –”

“No!” she shouts, eyes flying wide.

“Well why not?”

“Because –” Hinata takes a deep breath, settling her trembling hands “– because I care about you, Luca… I don’t want you to get hurt.”

And once the dam is broken, the truth doesn’t drizzle out. It pours.

“That’s why,” she continues, “I’ve been taking up more missions lately. To make sure you don’t have to help. That’s how it should’ve been in the first place, anyway. And I know what you’re gonna say. I was the one to suggest we talk and here I am, hiding stuff from you the first chance I get. It sucks. I suck. You shouldn’t be put up with me, and –”

Wanna know the best part about paying back in the same coin? You get to see their reaction. And in Hinata’s case, when I calmly crouch beside her and catch her in a gentle embrace, she all but breaks down crying.

“What are you doing?” she asks, fighting down a sob.

“Felt like you needed a hug.”

“But – why?”

“Because,” I say, brushing the hair behind her ear, “I’m not just gonna sit and listen to you beating yourself up over a silly mistake.”

She snivels, chuckles a bitter chuckle. “Aren’t you – mad at me?”

“I’m – not happy. You had plenty of chances to tell me. But I can appreciate you meant well too, you know? I don’t think I’m that obtuse.”

“You’re horrible,” she smiles. “How am I ever going to learn if you keep forgiving me so easily?”

“Well, my plan is to make you care enough to not repeat your mistakes. Is it working?”

She groans, digging her hands in my arms if only to bury herself deeper at my chest. “Perhaps too well.”

We stay together for a while longer, listening to the gentle sounds of the window until I’m confident she’s calm enough to be let go. Now, with her face a little puffy, but no tears running down her cheeks, she scratches the back of her neck, unsure what to say next. And it’s comforting to know that, deep down, we’re both just as dumb with feelings just as messy.

“You really wanna help out?” Hinata mutters.

“Is that even a question anymore?”

“Just making sure.”

“Then yes, I’m sure. Just tell me anything and I’ll do it.”

It doesn’t take her too long to mull it over, but getting it out of her system is another ordeal altogether. I can only imagine the concerns pulling at her mind, all in different directions, tying her tongue and drying up her throat. But, in the end, she pulls through and, careful as a cat on the motorway, she concedes.

“Well, since you said anything…”