“Aren’t you a first year?”
An unfamiliar voice garnered her attention. She tilted her head up to the end of the stairs, finding a stranger in uniform identical to hers looking down to her. The stranger’s face wasn’t one that she recognized in one look. She furrowed her eyebrows as a gesture to question the stranger.
Acknowledging the weird look from the supposed ‘first year’ student, the stranger grinned and dashed down the stairs, nearing the lone wolf of a student. She propped herself down, sitting exactly one stair above the lone student.
The first-year student kept her eyes trained to the other girl—who welcomed herself—and scooted away from the odd girl.
Even with the rude look, the stranger remained unbothered; smile plastered on her face as though permanent. “I’m Segawa Ichika,” she introduced herself, even though unasked. “Second year. I’m usually alone here, so it’s surprising to see a first-year here.”
“O-oh,” the first-year student was taken aback by the sudden introduction. The polite way to handle this situation was to introduce herself back—but she was reluctant. She had no desire to befriend an odd senior like her. In the end, against her unwillingness, she decided to reciprocate the introduction. “Um... Tachibana. First year.”
Segawa Ichika inched closer, eyes piercing through the first-year’s. “Hmm...?” she hummed, and it was enough to intimidate the poor first-year.
‘Tachibana’ sighed in defeat. “Chiharu. Tachibana Chiharu,” she reintroduced her full name.
“Chiharu, it is,” Ichika beamed in gleefulness.
Tachibana Chiharu accepted her defeat. She wasn’t exactly comfortable with a stranger she barely knew calling her by her first name, yet she couldn’t object her senior. Well, whatever. She was cute, so Chiharu couldn’t care less.
--
Chiharu froze; her complexion turned pale. Ichika—she was as gorgeous as Chiharu remembered. Nothing seemed to change, as though time froze for her beauty for ten years. If it weren’t for the deeper wrinkle at the corner of her eyes as she smiled, Chiharu would believe that the Ichika who stood in front of her was the same Ichika who stepped away ten years ago.
Ichika seemed confused, though her expression remained serene. Perhaps, she wondered if she greeted the right person. “Um...?”
“O-Oh,” Chiharu fell back to reality, averting her gaze to the ground to hide her embarrassment. “Senpai.”
Delighted that she met the right person, Ichika beamed into her signature smile; pink tinge of blooming cherry blossom arose on her cheeks, either from the coldness of the night or the uncontainable joy of accidental reunion. “Chiharu!” she exclaimed, clapping her palms once as her gesture of rejoice. “I knew it was you!”
“Yeah,” though her heart clouded, Chiharu forced her lips to form a smile—all the while hoping it didn’t appear crooked. “It’s... been a while.”
“It is,” Ichika replied, elated as though oblivious to the younger woman’s distress. To be fair, it wasn’t her fault. Her junior never told her anything—of course she wouldn’t know, would she? As she remained joyful, the long-haired woman grabbed her junior’s hands. “There’s a lot of catching up to do. Are you free right now?”
As much as the young teacher was tempted to decline, she couldn’t bring herself to lie at the face of the innocent senior. Well, she wasn’t exactly free right now. “I’m currently taking care of the drunk people,” Chiharu explained, feeling guilty even though she had done nothing wrong.
“Are you free after that?” the senior insisted stubbornly, determined to have a talk with her favorite junior. Though, the glow on her face dimmed a little as she realized the politely soft rejection. “If you are... well, we can have a drink at my place?”
The stubbornness that she fell in love with—how could Chiharu have the heart to reject twice? She felt guilty for even thinking of rejecting her senior’s invitation. “It... won’t take long,” she said, finally, against the better of her.
The glow came back onto her face; her beaming smile formed back. “I’ll wait!” Ichika exclaimed excitedly, while Chiharu excused herself to tend to her colleagues—which didn’t take long, as there were only a few people left. Sara told Chiharu to leave first when she noticed Chiharu reunited with an acquaintance as she didn’t want to hold her back.
Chiharu nodded a gratitude, strapping her bag onto her shoulder and clutching her coat. She strode out the Izakaya, finding the woman of her past leaning against a wall of a closed shop. Noticing Chiharu’s appearance, Ichika’s gaze softened with sparkles of constellation. Her cheeks and nose were tinted with pink hue; perhaps the night breeze was chillier than she expected.
Gazing at the cheerful grin that never changed, Chiharu found herself falling in love once again.
She thought she was over her; and that time had buried her longing away deep into the core of her heart. Perhaps, it did. Perhaps, it had been buried deep within her heart—preserved in a cryogenic state, waiting for warmth to melt her feeling free.
And the warmth that set her longing free was the existence of the person itself.
As the ice in her heart melted, the ice on her face melted too—the corner of her stiff lips shifted into faint smile. “Did you wait long?” Chiharu decided to be the first one to greet, sauntering over to her long-lost senior.
“No,” Ichika replied, linking her arm on the younger woman’s arm. Bouncing in excitement, she dragged her junior along on her impromptu waltz. “Let’s go!”
--
The two women picked up quite a few boozes and snacks before heading towards the former upperclassman’s apartment. Only now Chiharu learned that Ichika loved alcohol. Even though they bought so many cans of booze, Ichika still stored several cans in her fridge. To be honest, Chiharu found it quite worrisome.
After storing cans of alcohol, Chiharu closed the fridge while holding four cans for them—though she wasn’t sure if she wanted to drink one. She found her senior sitting on the carpet, leaning against the couch. She followed, putting the cans on the tea table and propping herself down. She opened a bag of chips, while Ichika opened a can for herself.
Gulping down the liquid, the older woman exhaled in satisfaction. She toasted her can up. “Woohoo! I’ve always wanted to drink with you for the longest time,” she sang out, waving her can around—which spilt the beer onto the table.
“Calm down,” Chiharu couldn’t help but giggled, seeing her senior out of control.
“Nope, nope, nope! No calm down,” Ichika waved her pointed finger, leaning closer to her junior who was on the other side of the table. She popped another can open, shoving the bubbling booze. “You, too, Chiharu! Drink, drink, drink!”
Hesitantly, Chiharu accepted the can, though she had enough booze for the day. Despite being tolerant over alcohol, she wasn’t too fond of it. She never understood why people enjoyed one in the first place. But, it was Ichika who insisted—and she knew she couldn’t say no to the senior she had loved for so long. And so, she drank. The two women drank, all the while reminiscing their past and sharing stories of their life.
--
Chiharu had lost count of how many boozes they savored and how many snacks they devoured and how many hours had passed. All she realized was that her senior was out cold, her head on the tea table. Several cans and crumbs were laying around them, exhibiting just how wasted they were. Even Chiharu’s mind was hazy from all the alcohol she swore not to drink.
Being awake alone in the silent room let reality corroded her mind. In front of her, the person she longed for was asleep. They had spent their time talking nonstop, catching up on a lot of separated days.
Talking with her felt nostalgic and soothing. She hadn’t changed the past ten years—she was the same strangely energetic Segawa Ichika she had known from the days of sailor uniform—and Chiharu was thankful for that.
It made her wonder—would things have been different if only she had the courage to confess?
Previously, she was terrified that her confession would sully their pleasantly established relationship. Had she known they still parted ways in the end, would it make a different? Or—was it only her excuse for being a coward?
If she tried now—with the feelings unable to be suppressed, and the woman in question was asleep—could she finally confess?
She slowly opened her mouth, trying to make out the sentence that had been stuck in her throat for the past ten years.
Yet, she couldn’t. No words came out of the desperate mouth of hers.
Even after years, she was merely a coward.
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