Chapter CVI: The One Who Felt Astrayed
Steam curls lazily from the cup of coffee sitting delicately between Himari's hands. The cafe is quiet, humming with soft jazz and the gentle clinks of porcelain. Himari scrolls down her feed on YourBook, eyes skimming past videos of cats stuck in tissue boxes and motivational quotes about resilience in Comic Sans.
"Himari? You're here early?"
The familiar voice startles her. She almost drops her phone into her coffee.
"M-Ms. Soumei!" she blurts out, straightening in her seat.
The ever-elegant teacher, clad in a scarf far too dramatic for a summer morning, slides into the seat opposite her.
"Well, we just finished our research at our class, Ma'am," Himari replies with a smile, tucking her hair behind her ear.
Ms. Soumei glances at the counter. "Want a snack? It's on the house. I know the owner."
Himari's eyes light up. "Definitely, ma'am. Thanks!"
Moments later, a waiter arrives with two dainty plates: a glossy chocolate mousse slice for Himari and a dignified blueberry cheesecake for Ms. Soumei. The mousse jiggles threateningly with every movement.
Ms. Soumei leans forward slightly, spoon poised like a weapon. "So, how are you with Hanako, Natsuki, and Akiko?"
Himari's spoon halts mid-air. Her gaze drifts to the mousse, then beyond it, as memories begin to flood in.
Grade 7. Himari is a lone island in a sea of chattering classmates. She's a quiet one, barely speaking unless called to recite.
Then comes Hanako.
Bubbly. Loud. Confident. She plops into the seat beside Himari like she owns the place.
"Hi! I'm Hanako Nazo. What's your name?"
Himari blinks. "Himari. Himari Furumi."
"Nice! Wanna be lunch buddies? I make a mean egg sandwich."
And just like that, a friendship sprouts. Hanako drags her along during recess, introducing her to Akiko, a girl with hair like autumn leaves and a mind sharper than a katana.
"This is Himari. She's cool. She reads books about space and stuff."
Akiko nods. "Nice to meet you. Wanna see my cat video collection?"
They become inseparable. They giggle over slumber party secrets, cry over failed quizzes, and start group chats named absurd things like "The Triangular Threat."
In one of their Grade 7 group projects, Himari meets Asahi. A bit clumsy, always with mismatched socks, and armed with a vault of memes.
"Look at this one," Asahi says one day, shoving his phone in her face. "It's a 2018 classic. A frog with a kazoo falling into mashed potatoes."
Himari snorts. "Why are his eyes so big?"
"That's the point! It's tragic comedy!"
They bond over meme archaeology and late-night group calls. They dissect the psychology of absurd humor and why cats falling off tables never gets old. Himari starts to notice Asahi's messages becoming more frequent. The jokes turn into compliments.
"You're the galaxy, Himari. Stars look dim next to you."
"...That sounds like something from an astrology scam site."
One day, Asahi blurts it out in the hallway between periods. "Himari, I like you."
There's a long pause. Students pass around them like a river flowing around a rock.
"Asahi," she begins slowly. "You're a great friend. But that's all I can give."
And with that, the thread snaps.
Their chats dwindle. Group calls become awkward. She doesn't see him during lunch anymore.
Then, the pandemic strikes.
Everyone goes online. Zoom calls, Accord chats, and camera-off modules dominate the day. Himari's life shifts. Her mother, a hotel manager, ropes her into assisting with accounting work.
"Mom, I'm still studying."
"You can study numbers and invoices at the same time. Two birds, one stone."
She becomes busier. No more memes. No more group calls. But Akiko and Hanako continue to send her messages, checking in.
"Still alive? Here's a sticker of a cat punching a banana."
Then one day, they invite her to a hangout at 1999 Studio Cafe. Masks on, sanitizer ready.
"Hey Himari, we want you to meet our newest member," Akiko chirps. "This is Natsuki Kurosaki."
A girl with a soft smile and a mysterious aura bows politely.
Himari nods. "Nice to meet you. I'm Himari."
They click immediately. Natsuki shares a love for lemon tea and true crime podcasts.
Back at the cafe, Himari stares at her half-eaten mousse.
"Actually ma'am," she says quietly, "I haven't heard from them."
Ms. Soumei tilts her head. "Well, you sound sure. Have you checked?"
A long silence follows.
The cafe's music plays a smooth saxophone solo, filling the dead air like an awkward uncle making jokes at a funeral.
Himari doesn't answer immediately. Her spoon moves in small circles through the mousse, sculpting little chocolate whirlpools.
She knows what Ms. Soumei is asking. Not just about her friends. But about herself.
Has she checked in? Reached out? Or has she merely drifted, wrapped in her own orbit?
"I..." she starts. "I guess I just assumed they're busy too."
Ms. Soumei raises an eyebrow. "You think you're the only one with a chaotic schedule? Akiko takes care of her whole house sometimes. Hanako has three club responsibilities. Natsuki has, well... that hair."
Himari laughs despite herself. "That hair does look like a full-time job."
"Exactly. But they still care. They just need you to care back."
Another pause.
The dead air hangs like a curtain of awkwardness between them. Himari stirs her coffee. Ms. Soumei sips hers. A customer sneezes in the background. Still, Himari says nothing.
Just as Ms. Soumei opens her mouth to break the silence, Himari finally speaks, "Uhm... Actually, ma'am, I'll tell you the whole story so you'll understand my connection with the three."
Ms. Soumei raises a brow, setting her fork down beside the half-eaten blueberry cheesecake. "Okay then, no problem. Lay it on me. Like—full tsunamé of feelings. No brakes."
Himari chuckles lightly. "This might take a while."
"I'm a teacher. I've sat through worse. One time, a guy cried in front of me because he failed P.E. because he couldn't find his shorts."
With that, Himari sets down her phone and gazes out the window. Her mind drifts... a flashback to two years ago.
A bright sun sets over the coastline as the bus roars down the highway, ferrying exhausted students back home from a field trip. The salty breeze lingers in their clothes and their hair, and the scent of barbecue clings to their bags like stubborn memories.
Inside the bus, chaos reigns: one group of boys sings off-key anime openings, another argues if a chicken nugget is a valid currency, and somewhere near the back, Himari slouches beside Natsuki Kurosaki, arms crossed.
"Hey, Himari?" Natsuki nudges her with her elbow.
"Hm?"
"Why haven't you been hanging out with us more lately?" Natsuki asks with sincere eyes that somehow glimmer like a Shoujo anime protagonist. "You've been super MIA! Even Hanako's like, 'Did she delete her existence or what?'"
Himari hesitates, fingers fiddling with the zipper of her pencil case. "Well... my mom won't really let me go out anymore. Plus, I've been practicing accountancy."
Natsuki perks up. "Accountancy? Whoa! Like taxes and number crunching?"
Himari deadpans. "Yes. Numbers. Crunching. Lots of it. My brain's basically ramen noodles right now."
Natsuki gasps. "With meat or just plain?"
"Depends on the chapter. Statistics makes it meatless."
Hanako, sitting in front of them, suddenly spins around. "Did someone say ramen?! You guys are talking food and didn't invite me to the conversation?! Treason!"
The three laugh, and the bus rocks slightly as a student up front screams because he sat on his own sandwich.
It's Another day, another headache. School's in full force. Midterms near. And Himari feels like her brain is about to explode from tax codes and the difference between a balance sheet and a sandwich receipt.
After a particularly math-heavy day, Akiko and Hanako drag a very sleepy Himari to the Guidance Counseling Office.
Inside, the familiar calming scent of jasmine greets them, along with Ms. Keshi, the school's guidance counselor, whose desk is covered in rainbow sticky notes, cat figurines, and an unnecessarily large plush banana.
"Hello, girls," Ms. Keshi says with a warm smile. "Everything okay?"
The three nod, though Himari does it with the enthusiasm of a dying Tamagotchi.
"Himari's the one with the problem," Hanako says, nudging her friend forward.
Ms. Keshi nods, "Alright. Akiko, Hanako, would you two wait outside?"
Once the door closes, Ms. Keshi sits across from Himari, steepling her fingers like a therapy anime sensei.
"Okay, Himari. Tell me what's been bothering you."
Himari fidgets. "It's... about friendship. With Akiko and Hanako. I feel like I don't fit in anymore. I don't know what they're always talking about. Memes, trends, Discord drama, even those bizarre inside jokes about Tengen's hair—"
"Wait, Tengen? That boy who looks like a rejected anime villain?"
"Yup."
Ms. Keshi laughs gently. "Go on."
"I've been focusing so much on accountancy and work with my mom. And they're always in sync. Like I blink and suddenly they have a new group chat. A new meme. A new inside joke. And I'm just... a ghost emoji floating around in the background."
Ms. Keshi nods slowly. "I see. What you're experiencing is a common form of emotional distancing. When one's life path differs, especially in effort or focus, it can feel like the group is sprinting while you're crawling."
Himari's eyes widen. "That's exactly what it feels like!"
"You feel left out, even if it's unintentional. And when we feel left out, we start to question our place in the group. Now tell me—have you told them how you feel?"
"...No."
Ms. Keshi smiles warmly. "Then that's the first step. You don't need to accuse or guilt-trip them. Just tell them you need space to think. That's valid. And brave."
Himari nods slowly. "Thanks, ma'am."
That afternoon, when they get home, a message pings in their group chat.
Himari: Hey guys. I wanted to tell you both, I think I need some space. I'm feeling kind of overwhelmed with school and stuff. Hope that's okay.
Hanako: Of course. Just tell us when you're ready.
Akiko: Always here for you. Take care, okay?
Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then reappear. Then nothing.
And just like that, their conversations go silent.
Then the flashback ends. Himari stares at the mousse slice, but it feels cold now.
She looks at Ms. Soumei, voice quiet. "It's been three months. I haven't heard from them... yet I've heard rumors. That some of them aren't seeing eye to eye anymore, ma'am."
Ms. Soumei lowers her head. There's hesitation. But the teacher in her knows—truth matters, even if it's heavy.
"I didn't want to tell you this," she says carefully, pulling out her phone. "But Akiko is missing. So is Kota."
The words don't register immediately. Himari blinks. "What?"
Ms. Soumei taps her screen and flips it to show a paused surveillance footage.
It shows two hooded individuals robbing a store—quick, efficient, eerie.
"Some speculate... that they're these two. And the worst part is—the ones saying it's true are Hanako and Tengen."
Himari's hand clamps over her mouth. Her friends. Against each other?
She watches the footage again. The hoodie. The build. The walk. It could be Akiko. But it also couldn't.
"No way. Akiko would never... Kota too?"
Ms. Soumei reaches across the table and puts a hand on hers. "Don't worry. It's just Hanako and Tengen who've gone astray. But actually... we've got someone else here."
Himari's brow furrows. "Who—"
Suddenly, small footsteps echo from behind the counter. The jingle of a bag. The scent of lychee perfume.
And then—
"Hey, Himari. Long time no see."
It's Natsuki. Still in her gray hoodie, still wearing clip-on koala earrings, and still with that signature too-sweet grin.
Himari stands slowly, blinking in disbelief. "Natsuki?! What are you doing here?"
"I work here part-time," Natsuki says, throwing her arms open dramatically. "I am the mocha goddess of this café now!"
Ms. Soumei mutters, "She spilled whipped cream on three people last week."
"Minor details," Natsuki says, waving her hand.
Himari laughs, and it's the first real laugh she's had in a while. Her hands tremble slightly as she walks over and hugs her.
"You have no idea how glad I am to see you," Himari says.
Natsuki smiles and says, "I heard things were weird. So I came back. And honestly? I think it's time the old squad reunited."
"But Akiko and Kota..."
Natsuki pulls out her phone. "Then we find them. We don't believe rumors. We look for the truth ourselves. With whipped cream and spreadsheets if we have to."
Himari grins. "Now you're just being weird."
"Weird is what kept us alive through the pandemic."
Ms. Soumei stares at the paused video on her cracked MyPhone screen, her glasses slipping down her nose from leaning in too close. Her breath smells like a deadly combination of dark roast and burnt caramel syrup. She pushes her glasses back up dramatically and looks at the two girls seated across her.
"Alright, girls," she says with mock seriousness. "Who do you think did these? Do you have a suspect for it?"
Natsuki blinks twice, like a faulty anime character buffering. "Well, I can't surely remember anymore, ma'am—"
"Wait!!" Himari suddenly yells, slamming her palm on the table so hard that the leftover donut crumbs jump in unison. "I just remembered something."
Ms. Soumei and Natsuki both flinch.
"For sure!" Himari exclaims, her eyes wide as if she just saw the spirit of Rizal. "Natsuki! Remember when Kota was almost cheating on Akiko with Maple B*tch?"
Natsuki's jaw drops, "OH YEAH! That one! That witch! That dehydrated MyPad air of a girl!"
Ms. Soumei, blinking, says, "Wait, who are you two talking about?"
"The blondie who swore revenge on Akiko, ma'am," Natsuki replies, swirling her coffee with intense anger as if summoning a caffeine storm. "Eloise Murasaki. Big lips, fake accent, too much perfume—smells like expired mangoes!"
"Right!" Himari adds. "She's like a Waltey villain in leggings!"
Ms. Soumei, intrigued, unlocks her phone again, "Let's take a closer look at the video. Full brightness. And volume too."
She rewinds the CCTV footage. The three of them lean over the tiny screen like secret agents decoding enemy signals. The hooded figures appear again—walking like guilty penguins—one short, one tall. Then, right at the timestamp of 03:14:09 AM, the taller one slightly tilts her head.
"There!" Himari yells, tapping the screen so hard it shifts orientation. "Right there, the crown of the hoodie!"
And sure enough, under the brightness of the convenience store lights, a sliver of blonde hair peeks out from the hood.
"OH MY GAHH," Ms. Soumei screams. "I can't believe this!"
"I told you!" Himari beams.
"This is proof! Proof, I say!" Ms. Soumei continues like she's in a courtroom drama. "Akiko and Kota are innocent! Wait 'til I rub this on Hanako and Tengen's smug little faces. And the Assistant Principal's too! That man owes me three staplers and a formal apology!"
"We got you there, Eloise Murasaki," Himari grins, crossing her arms like an anime heroine.
Natsuki slaps the table. "The blonde menace has returned!"
"But what should we do now, girls?" Ms. Soumei asks, her voice trembling between excitement and a sugar crash. "Like, do we call the cops? A drone strike? CIA?"
"We have a plan, ma'am," Natsuki says, grinning deviously.
Natsuki brings out a sketchpad where she has drawn what appears to be... a vending machine with a jetpack?
"Wait," Himari says. "This is just the plan we made to steal extra snacks from the cafeteria."
"Oh right," Natsuki flips the page. "Here it is."
They write in all caps: "OPERATION: TROJAN."
"Why Trojan?" Ms. Soumei asks, confused. "Like the Trojan Horse? Hehe"
"Nope, Because IT IS. Sounds like it but a twist," Himari answers. "And will strike in the hearts of the opponents giving them a slap of payback."
"Oooooh," Natsuki nods sagely. "But we also forgot"
Himari brings out a fidget toy. "Here, is a fidget."
"Dear God." Ms. Soumei says
"There's more." Natsuki says dramatically,
"Ohh", Ms. Soumei says shocked.
Then Natsuki continues, "Let's gather up the people."