By performing deep regret at the thought that her careless actions had had a negative outcome, she could make the other person feel ever so faintly guilty. This, in turn, could gradually garner forgiveness and even respect from them. She could remember her grandmother once praising her by saying: Even when you make mistakes, you’re a good girl who always reflects on your actions and considers other people’s feelings.
“Relax. It’s not that serious. You were asking about my birthday, right? Because you wanna repay me for the nail polish and the cover charge? Well, I appreciate the thought, but you don’t gotta worry about it. It’s no big deal.”
“Nnnn…okay…”
“It really means a lot, though. Thanks.”
Ai was direct and honest, protective and nurturing. In response, Akane donned the frustration and embarrassment of a girl whose little scheme had flopped, and then she bit her tongue.
Naturally, all of her actions yesterday and her performance today were in service to a very different objective.
The day Gotou Julia turned up at her workplace, Akane didn’t head to the subway station after her shift ended. Instead, she went to the live music venue where Ai worked. When she peered through the entrance at the bottom of the stairs, she saw a familiar face out front, so she struck up a conversation. Originally, she was planning to visit as a customer, so this was a stroke of luck.
The woman seemed to remember her, referring to her as “Ai’s friend,” which saved her the hassle of having to reintroduce herself. She was told Ai didn’t work that day, but she had chosen to come here knowing that. Then she revealed a plausible explanation for why she was there: she wanted to know when Ai’s birthday was and what sorts of things he liked. She finished by implying a surprise with “Please keep this a secret if you can,” but she had already anticipated a future wherein he would find out. The moment Fujino responded with a vague nod, Akane knew she had succeeded in her indirect message.
Her main objective wasn’t repayment. To follow the storyline of Girl’s March, she needed to meet a woman who was friends with Ai and ask her about him—and since Fujino was her only option, she went for it. In her mind, it was only a precaution. But the way she was reading the situation now, Ai’s friend from the story probably was Fujino. This was due to the intel she had gained on the way home from the music venue.
“Come to think of it, weren’t the trains delayed that day?” he asked.
“Yeah, they were! Not the one I ride, though,” she nodded offhandedly. In truth, that train delay had been more significant to Akane than anyone it actually impacted. “I was happy about it because there’s a scene in Girl’s March where the main character goes to visit Ai’s friend and gets hit with a transportation delay.”
“Seriously? What is going on with that book…?”
He scoffed like he’d just heard a bad joke, but she couldn’t detect any chastisement of a younger friend’s selfish actions in his expression. She knew Ai would never get angry over something like this.
The book didn’t seem to care what questions were asked of Ai’s friend. It only said they were “questions about Ai.” The reason she chose “repaying Ai” from all the other options available to her was in order to convey that, though she sometimes had tunnel vision, she was a good, kind-hearted girl who cared about her friends. Ai would never get mad at someone like that.
They passed under the railway bridge and crossed the intersection.
Akane hated walking through this district just as much as she hated its smell. She always had to stay on guard to make sure she wouldn’t bump into anyone, block their path, or otherwise provoke their ire. Ai, on the other hand, strutted these streets like they were deserted. He kept his head held high and clacked his heels, as if to suggest the passersby weren’t even worth his consideration. As much as Akane wished she could take a second to admire and aspire, that would mean taking the risk of someone snapping at her.
The buildings in this district were packed like sardines, so they arrived at their destination in just a few minutes. Akane entered two steps behind Ai, embedding her eyes and mouth with interest and excitement at all times on the off-chance he looked back at her. They walked past the arcade on the ground floor and into a crowded elevator, then rode it to the seventh floor. When the doors slid open and she saw what lay beyond, she shouted, as if on reflex:
“Wow!”
Then, turning to Ai, she donned an expression that indicated embarrassment at her lack of self-control.
He looked mildly surprised. “Didn’t think this was your first time at a billiard hall.”
More surprising for her was that his voice carried no hint of smug superiority.
They signed in at the front desk, then walked along the pool tables until they came to one that was unoccupied. To claim it as theirs, she laid a hand on the rim; Ai didn’t scold her for it, so evidently it wasn’t bad manners. But even if it was, she knew dozens of ways to make her ignorance cute.
It was Akane who, as of a few days prior, first suggested they play pool together. As they were building rapport by exchanging emails, she determined that, given his personality, it was safe to be honest. “Hey, I wanna reenact another scene with Ai and The Girl. Will you hear me out?”
The reply was instant: “As long as it’s nothing illegal.”
“Of course not! It’s good, clean fun!”
With an opener that was vague enough to potentially set off alarm bells, she recounted the scene from the book.
In Girl’s March, Ai influenced the protagonist in numerous ways, the biggest of which ultimately being the impetus to reveal her inner self for the first time. Before they got there, however, he introduced her to new hobbies, interests, and other cultural aspects.