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It’s a little soon to call it, but Ann feels pretty confident in saying that middle school sucks.
It’s just bad. She’s already got rumors following her around, stuff ranging from ‘Ann Takamaki dyes her hair’ to ‘Ann Takamaki got expelled from her last school’ to ‘Ann Takamaki has ties to the mafia’. The fact that she’s a transfer student, the fact that she’s part-foreigner, the fact that she looks like a foreigner, any of those alone would be enough to spark interest. Together? There’s no escaping it. And if she tries to stand up for herself, to bring up how ridiculous everyone’s being, well. People basically take that as an admission of guilt, plus that counts as "causing trouble". Getting a lecture from her parents about how disappointed they are, how they wanted better from her, how they expected better from her, that’s worse than barely getting any attention. So. Keeping to herself for now is the only thing she can do until interest dies out.
While it’s a pretty active week for her name, it’s a pretty quiet week for Ann herself. People talk, as they often do. People keep a polite distance, as they often do. And honestly, she’s used to it. She’s fine with it. She has to be, and she is. Aside from the whole ‘moving to a completely different country’ thing and people having way too much interest in her family tree, it's probably a typical middle school experience. And hey, at least she’s staying in the same school for more than a month.
She’ll manage.
It's after school, and Ann stands in the hallway staring at her painting. It’s hung right outside the art studio - alongside the works of other students - and it stares back at her, just as disappointing as it was on the easel. Ann’s no artist but she knows enough about art to know it’s bad, and it feels like a waste to get the chance to actually make something, to work hours and pour her heart into it and to have it come out so... bad. But, maybe that just reflects the state of her heart. Which is a sentiment so melodramatic Ann can’t help but grimace at her own train of thought.
“Is that yours?”
With a slight jolt Ann turns, caught making faces at her own painting, and she comes face-to-face with someone in the next class over. Suzuki… something? Something Suzuki. They’ve never really talked aside from an occasional greeting, but Suzuki’s always struck her as someone on the outskirts of popularity; nice enough that everyone likes her, too nice to actually be consumed by a clique.
“It looks terrible,” she says.
Well, so much for nice. “Who asked you!" Ann snaps, bristling with indignation, but the other girl doesn't seem too bothered.
“The colors don't match," she continues, gesturing at the painting. "The green’s a lot more dull than the red, that's why it looks so off.”
“Well-!” Now that it’s pointed out, it's really, really obvious. "You're totally right.” Ann groans, dragging a hand down her face. For that brief second, she's spared from the sight of her bright red, dull green mistake. “How did I miss that?"
“Sometimes it helps to have a little outside perspective.” Suzuki smiles, just as sincere as her blunt critique. “I think your classmates are probably making a bad first impression, but I hope they're not giving you a hard time.”
“Oh,” Ann says, still kind of hung up over the color thing. “It's fine.”
“It's really not. They should know better.” The smile slips from her face as she sighs, shaking her head. “Do your best,” she says, before walking away.
It’s Suzui. Shiho Suzui. Ann’s glad she decided to check up on that, because right before the trip to the aquarium Suzui walks right over and sticks out her hand. “Want to buddy up?”
“Why me?” Ann asks, shaking the offered hand on instinct.
“It's what we’re supposed to do.” Not really the explanation Ann was looking for, even though it's an accurate one; the chaperones did go into extensive detail about all the benefits of the buddy system, most of it being a lot of common sense stuff. “You still don't have any friends, right?”
Well, that's blunt.
“I have friends!” Or, sometimes she gets partnered with Sakamoto for class, and they get along alright. He’s not someone who really cares what other people think, just judges people based on firsthand experience. It's refreshing. But ‘friends’ is a very generous description of their relationship. The only description she can use, if she doesn't want to admit she has no friends.
“That's good,” Suzui says, actually looking legitimately happy for Ann. Maybe getting defensive wasn't the right reaction there. “If you're going to buddy up with them, I’ll head back.”
“Wait!” Ann grabs Suzui’s hand, and it’s kind of embarrassing how desperate it probably comes off, but she does it anyway. “Let’s buddy up!”
There’s a second of silence, and then Suzui laughs. Which is nerve-wracking, until she smiles, and there’s just no way a smile like that could hide anything cruel. “That was very dramatic. It’s hard to take a word like ‘buddy’ so seriously,” she says. “Looking forward to it, buddy.”
Ann laughs in response. Suzui’s right. Weird, but right. “Same here, buddy.”
Sports aren't really her thing, but Ann starts to go to volleyball games. Sometimes she manages to drag Ryuji along by holding his debt over his head. Sure, it was sweet that he borrowed money to get his mom a souvenir, but business is business, and she’s going to be milking this leverage for all it’s worth.
Together they're the loudest duo in the stands. When Shiho takes her place on the court, they yell. When Shiho scores, they yell. When Shiho wins, they yell. One game Ryuji manages to sneak in some air horns and they manage to make a lot of noise before getting kicked out. It's only one game though; as fun as it was, Ann really does want to watch the matches because when Shiho’s out there with her team, pushing herself as hard as she can, doing her best to earn that victory, she's stunning. And maybe it's kind of weird to think that about someone who’s running around sweating in gym clothes, but she's just. Incredible.
It’s been a while since Ann’s had a sleepover; she usually wasn't in the same place long enough to build that kind of friendship. The idea of it is maybe a little juvenile, but not in a bad way. And that’s what’s nice about Shiho. She’s just so open about offering the kind of stuff Ann missed out on. So yeah! Maybe Ann’s a little too excited about inviting Shiho over, but maybe that’s fine. They’re going to sit around in pajamas and stay up late and eat way more sweets than they really should.
The house feels emptier than usual, waiting for Shiho. Emptier still when Shiho steps through the doorway, looking around with mild curiosity. “It’s just you?” she asks.
“My parents are out on business,” Ann confirms. “They usually are.”
Here’s usually where there’s some variation of awe, of envy; this is the kind of freedom every kid dreams of, after all.
“It must be lonely,” Shiho says. It doesn’t sound like it’s meant to be sympathetic, just a statement of fact, and maybe that’s why it catches Ann off-guard. Lonely? Of course it was, but that’s not what people were supposed to notice. They were supposed to sigh over independence, to marvel over what a glamorous lifestyle her parents must lead, and she’d field questions about travel and parties and all the famous people they've met.
“It is,” Ann admits. Something about Shiho makes it easier to be honest.
Shiho hugs her. It's just a brief gesture of comfort, almost casual in how readily it's offered, and it's… nice. It feels like an indulgence for Ann to hug her back.
“Let's watch some Featherman,” Shiho says.
Standing there, arms around each other in the quiet of the near-empty house, Ann realizes she’d do anything for Shiho.
It's a conviction that's put to the test in the worst way possible, but it's one that never falters. Not for a second.
Ann’s never really been to a hospital before, but now it's where she spends all her free time. She knows most of the receptionists on the afternoon shift by name, and they know to gesture to the sign-in sheet and let her be on her way with maybe a little small-talk, a smile from the friendlier ones.
Hospitals are different from what she pictured. Quieter, more mundane. Sure, there's an ambient cacophony of noise and a constant motion of people with somewhere to be, but inside the hospital isn't that different from outside it. The sun shines in Shiho’s room, same as it does everywhere else. It's just the atmosphere. The glare of the polished-yet-stained linoleum floor. The ubiquity of the muted blue that covers the nurses, the beds, the curtains. The bright plastic band on Shiho’s wrist.
So Ann does what she can. She brings flowers, fills the room with them, makes sure to give some to Shiho’s roommates too, to greet them with a smile, to get to know them a little. She comes in with approved snacks that won't be confiscated and with as much energy as she possibly can.
Also, she comes with stories. A lot of stories.
“-Then she turns to the cameraman and says, ‘Ann doesn’t care about the shoot at all!’”
“Really?” Shiho asks, not in disbelief, but also, in utter disbelief.
“Yeah! And he totally bought it! Next thing you know, he tells me that I can just leave. She had everyone wrapped around her finger. Including me! It was the worst!”
Instead of sympathizing, Shiho starts to laugh.
“Hey!” Ann squawks, but it's hard to sound too affronted. She makes the effort anyway, crossing her arms with a huff.
“Sorry, sorry,” Shiho says, not sounding sorry at all. “It’s just… this sounds like something straight out of a drama.” And thinking back through it, it really does. “You sure were outmatched, weren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Ann groans, because it’s true. “She really had me beat. But now that I know what I'm up against, I'm not going to lose!”
“Fight hard,” Shiho says, holding up her hand. “Knock her out.”
“Oh, you bet I will.” Ann claps a hand against Shiho’s in an enthusiastic high-five, eyes blazing with determination. “I’m going to show everyone what I’m made of!”
Shiho nods, and it’d come off as pretty solemn if she wasn't so obviously trying to hide a smile. “You’ll blow them away,” she promises.
It's spoken with such confident sincerity, such affection, and Ann realizes she’s in love.
Ann starts her Sunday by getting a text. It's a picture of herself, a slightly blurred shot of a page from a magazine that just got released. It's followed by another text that reads, ‘You look like a banana’.
Ann calls. It picks up on first ring.
“Right!?” Ann exclaims, just getting right into it. “That dress was such a terrible color!”
“It really was. What were they thinking? You're probably the only person in the world that can pull it off.”
From Shiho, that’s one hell of a compliment, and Ann can't help but smile. “Glad you think so. I guess that means I’m getting stronger as a model!”
“Absolutely,” Shiho confirms. “I bet you’d look good even in a banana suit.”
They manage to last all of two seconds before bursting into laughter. When they both calm down, when Ann can actually breathe, she asks, “Did you read the interview?”
“Yep.” Ann can practically hear the grin on Shiho’s face. “You think you're so slick, don't you?”
“Who, me?”
“Yeah, you. ‘My ideal guy? Someone that calls my art terrible.’” Shiho huffs in some affectionate parody of annoyance. “If you’re trying to be romantic, you sure are missing the mark. Are you ever going to let that go?”
“Never,” Ann says. “I tell that story to everyone I meet, y’know.” And there’s a sharp stab of longing over the dull ache that never quite left, so sudden and overwhelming that she just blurts out, “I miss you.”
“I miss you too.” It's a soft admission, one that sets Ann’s heart into overdrive with a fluttering vertigo of not-quite grief.
“Break’s coming up!” Ann says, grabbing optimism by the throat and dragging it back into the conversation. “We’re gonna be driving down soon, so you’d better be ready!”
“I’m not sure I will.” Shiho hums in some facetious consideration. “You're such a good model now, way too pretty to even look at. What if I faint?”
“I’ll catch you,” Ann promises, a little too sincere for the joke.
“I know,” Shiho replies, just as sincere.