Chapter 4

WE ALL PARTOOK in some traditional Japanese sake over the span of our multi-course dinner service. The food was chock-full of local ingredients and absolutely delicious, to the point where I couldn’t wait to see the menu for breakfast the next day. I even got to select what fish I wanted, so I’d chosen horse mackerel. Unfortunately, there were no real developments relevant to Operation Heartbreak during our meal; there wasn’t much I could do unless I got him alone, after all.

Upon returning to the room, I saw our low table had been moved into the corner, and three futons had been laid out across the floor. According to Kao, “I just wanted to make sure everything breakable was out of the way, because I’m planning to go balls to the wall tonight.” A troubling announcement, to be sure. It seemed she and I would be sleeping in the dead center of the room. Mai requested her bed be along the wall by the doorway—that way we wouldn’t stumble over her when we came back drunk later. I couldn’t really blame her, after Kao’s ominous warning.

We were planning to meet up in the men’s room and get the drinking party underway about an hour from now, at 9 p.m. When we first checked in, I’d been planning to fit in a quick dip at the hot springs, but at this point I already had several cups of sake in me, so that choice seemed inadvisable. It appeared the other two felt much the same and agreed to wait until tomorrow morning to bathe again. That way we’d be in good condition to enjoy ourselves tonight. An unfortunate byproduct of this decision was that, instead, we just laid around the room watching talk shows in the interim—it completely reset the nice buzz I had going.

Unable to even wait the full hour, we gathered up our valuables along with the food and drinks we’d purchased earlier, then headed over to the men’s room ten minutes early. It was even bigger on the inside than I’d expected. The boys had kept their low table in the center of the room, thankfully, with their futons still folded up in the corner.

“All right, who’s ready to see Chizuru and Kao wreak havoc tonight?” asked Mai as she took the lid off the board game box, gazing wistfully into the distance as if she were seeing her life pass before her eyes.

“I just spoke with the front desk a little while ago, and they said they can give us ice anytime, we just have to call and ask,” reported Taiga-san.

Kao quickly jumped on this offer, raising her hand as she arranged the shochu bottles and canned cocktails on the table.

“We’ve still got plenty more shochu highballs and wine back in the fridge in the other room, if anyone’s interested!” she reminded everyone. “And whiskey too!”

I’d been surprised to see her lugging around a full-blown suitcase that morning, given that this was only going to be an overnight trip—I found out later that more than a third of it was jam-packed with liquor. According to her, these drinks had all been gifts from clients and so on, and she felt it would be a waste to drink them by herself.

“Man. This takes me back,” said Hibiki. I nodded firmly in agreement.

The vibes were all there. It felt just like we were back in college again, getting together with no particular objective in mind, with nothing but time to kill. It felt so uncanny, it was almost like we’d been sent back in time to one of those random nights at Hibiki’s apartment—though, obviously, those days were still recent enough that I wasn’t immediately jumping to some sci-fi or fantasy explanation.

Hibiki started setting out snacks on paper plates, and I ­offered to help him out (though not for the sake of the operation). This had to be the first and only time in my entire life that I’d felt myself start tearing up at the smell of bagged popcorn.

Everyone in attendance had a drinking glass in front of them. After setting up the Game of Life in the center of the low table, we asked Mai to make the first toast, given that she’d been the one who’d made this all possible. Compared to Karin’s quick and easy toast at dinner, Mai went on a long and grandiose spiel about what a miracle it was that we could all gather here today. As she finished her speech to cheers and heckling from the rest of the group, I took my first sip of the drink Kao had just concocted for me: a barley shochu mixed with club soda. It was pretty damn strong.

This would be the first time I’d played the Game of Life since a friend’s birthday party back in elementary school—and there’d been so many people that we’d had to split everyone into teams of two, so this was my first time playing solo.

On a whim, we decided to make Hibiki play the role of banker, managing all of the in-game money. And since the turn order went clockwise from the banker, this meant that I would go last, since I was sitting directly to his right.

“You can really tell a lot about people through this game, you know,” said Mai, chuckling to herself as she spun the roulette wheel. I was already dreading the predictable outcome: I’d be the only one in the game to get married, the girls would tease me for it, and I’d start getting overly emotional about it.

Little did I know that the future awaiting me was more deviously devised than I ever could have imagined.

Still, it was only a game. Ultimately, Karin was the first one to get hitched and add another rider to his car. Then it was Kao’s turn—and she also went on to have two kids. As far as careers went, she took the first one she landed on: a manga artist. Karin and I both became businesspeople, Mai a pastry chef, and Taiga-san an engineer. All in all, not too far off from our real-life state of affairs.

“Looks like the banker’s curse strikes again,” Hibiki complained with a sardonic smirk, as he accepted his occupation of “schoolteacher.” Very fitting for our resident sensei. “You sure you didn’t pick this game up from an eerie old toy store, Karin-chan? One you didn’t remember being there the last time you walked by?”

“Oh yeah, and this creepy old lady brought it out from the back, saying it was for me, specifically,” Karin joked. “Nope. Sorry, bud. I just bought it on Amazon, I’m afraid.”

The men were now yukking it up, jokingly likening the game’s outcomes to some occultic omen. But I just couldn’t find it in me to laugh it off along with them. Because by the game’s halfway point, I just so happened to add another person to my car as well. This made me look like the only one whose in-game persona didn’t match their real-life marital status, but of course, in reality, I’d just gotten engaged. It was unsettling, to say the least, especially when I went on to win the whole game afterward, living happily ever after—something I knew the other girls weren’t going to let me live down.

I just prayed they wouldn’t tease me mercilessly about it like they had in the hot springs. If they did, Hibiki might start feeling sorry for me, and then he wouldn’t feel comfortable confessing. So when I heard his next words in my left ear, I nearly socked him in the face as a sort of guilt-driven reflex. Sorry, Hibiki.

“Well, well… So, Chizuru’s gonna be the next one to get hitched, huh?” His voice sounded almost smug as he shot back the last little bit of his shochu soda, while the ice clinked in his glass. But it seemed this alone wasn’t enough to satiate him, as he quickly turned his attention onto his next prey: “And here I always thought Mai-san would be the first of us to get married.”

His tone was so matter-of-fact and unbothered that it almost made me wonder if Karin and I had the wrong idea about him all along. Hell, I could have even seen him using this as a lead-in to jokingly ask Mai if she wanted to just marry him at this point and get it over with. Obviously, I knew he wouldn’t actually go that far—he was very careful to never say anything that might actually upset the status quo of our group dynamic—but it still surprised me he could make a comment like this so nonchalantly.

“Me?!” Mai shouted incredulously. “What about Taiga-san?!”

“Nah, he’s too much of a free spirit,” Hibiki said dismissively.

“Guilty as charged,” Taiga-san agreed with a big ol’ grin.

However, now that Hibiki had called out Mai-tan by name, she was most certainly not going to let him get away from this topic unscathed.

“What about you, Hibiki-kun?” she countered. “Are you ever planning on getting married?”

I felt like I could almost hear a distinct ka-klunk—though it wasn’t the sound of ice in someone’s glass. It was the sound of Mai loading another bullet into the chamber. She was really giving me a run for my money ever since we’d arrived at the hotel, and the night had only just begun. Meanwhile, I hadn’t made any progress toward pulling off the operation yet whatsoever.

“Kinda hard to plan a marriage before I even have a partner,” Hibiki replied.

This was a similar response to the one I’d given Kao this afternoon. And yet, Mai leaned forward over the table, as if eagerly anticipating his next words—it was like she expected him to make a juicy quip about me or something. Unfortunately for her, he pivoted in a different direction entirely.

“They say your late twenties to early thirties is the best time to focus on hitting your career goals. So yeah, wouldn’t say I’m really in the market for that right now.”

This was a pretty cut-and-dry statement of disinterest. For a moment, Mai looked like she might try to hit him with another comeback. But before she had the chance, she was tackle-hugged by the drunk woman sitting beside her.

“Welp!” Kao exclaimed as her arms wrapped around Mai. “Guess I’ll just have to show you poor, single homebodies just how good it is to be a part of a big, happy family!”

I felt like I’d just been saved from the brink of death. I wasn’t sure if Mai’s ultimate goal was to make Hibiki want to get married or what. Regardless, once Kao pulled out her phone and started showing everyone videos of her daughters playing together, Mai pretty much had no choice but to let it go and lower her gun for the time being.

Thank god. This boorish change of topic definitely worked out in my favor this time. For the next little while, we all obliged as Kao tried to inspire our maternal or paternal instincts, with varying levels of success.

“Heh, kids,” said Karin, rubbing his beard as he sipped his drink. “Gotta love ’em.”

While we sat there like a captive audience, forced to watch Kao’s home movies, I took an opportunity to mentally regroup. I opened one of the individually wrapped chocolates on the table and popped it into my mouth as I tried to clear my mind and think about nothing other than how cute those two little toddlers were. And I’d say I was relatively successful on that front: By the end of the video, I almost wanted to pay their allowances myself.

Once the video of the girls playing around in a sandbox was over, the group let out a collective sigh of amusement. Almost immediately after, Mai chirped up and raised her hand without missing a beat.

“Hey, if we’re doing home movies, can I share one too?” she asked. You could tell she was a presenter by trade; her bag of tricks for livening things up never ran dry.

After waiting for us all to nod in approval, she headed back to the women’s room and returned with her iPad, along with the wine bottle Kao had chilling in the fridge. As she prepared the video for us, Kao went ahead and popped the cork.

“Since when do you have home movies, Mai-san? Don’t remember you having kids.”

“I don’t,” Mai replied. “Though you’re gonna love this baby, let me tell you.”

This brought out perhaps the smuggest grin we’d seen from her all day. Had she edited together some old videos of us, perhaps? I could definitely see her doing that. As we all waited on tenterhooks, she tapped the play button on the tablet’s screen with her ring finger. It took longer for some of us to recognize the video than others, with each person gasping in horror or bursting out laughing as they realized what it was.

“How in the hell did you even get this?” asked Hibiki, actually sounding uncharacteristically disgruntled for once.

Mai flashed him a devious grin.

In the video was a much younger Hibiki. His taste in clothing was still the same, albeit less expensive. He was reciting some sort of soliloquy in Chinese. Then, not long after, he was joined by a beardless Karin who’d been waiting in the wings. He was also speaking in stilted Chinese. I looked across the table at the modern-day Karin, who was already covering his eyes with both hands in embarrassment.

“Wait, was this for your foreign language class?” I asked.

The two men nodded weakly as their younger selves paraded about on screen. Apparently, this had been a class that was rumored to grant extra credit to those who participated most actively during lectures. And just as Hibiki was explaining to us that Mai had been enrolled in this class as well, the woman herself made her triumphant appearance on screen—sounding far more confident in her Chinese than the two of them.

“Yeah, I cringed pretty hard the first time I watched it too,” she said. “But hey—it’s memories, right?! I shot our old professor an email, and he was nice enough to share the video with me.”

“Wow,” said Kao. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen someone reveal blackmail footage of themselves and act smug about it. Impressive.”

This scathing interjection seemed to deal critical damage to both Mai and the two men she’d roped into this, as they all took a long sip in unison to drown their sorrows. Or maybe the bitter alcohol was just a palate cleanser to get the sour taste of cringe out of their mouths. For us outside observers, though, it sure seemed like a pretty fun trip down memory lane.

But it seemed I spoke too soon, as the scene soon shifted to one that would make Kao eat her own words—as she spit up a mouthful of wine directly onto the game board.

“Oh, hell no!” she exclaimed. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

Since Kao was too busy shrieking, I went ahead and grabbed a nearby moist towelette and wiped down the game board in her stead, looking down at the video as I did. Eventually, even I could recognize that the girl was Kao. She was in a dimly lit room with blaring music, doing a live painting performance—dressed in a maid outfit. After every few strokes of her brush, she got up to do some sort of wild interpretive dance.

“This was a pretty low-key private event held by the Second Art Club during our sophomore year, when Kao was still a member,” explained Mai. “It’s one of my most prized possessions.”

“Y’know, I heard the Second Art Club kids used to smoke weed in the clubrooms,” said Karin, engaging in wanton speculation. But I paid little mind to those baseless allegations right now, and instead fearfully locked eyes with Taiga-san—neither of us had yet to appear in any of these videos. It seemed we both had a hunch where this was going.

Meanwhile, Kao was practically trembling with anger.

“Mai…” she said. “I’m gonna give you until the end of the night to delete that video, or else I’m gonna murder you in your sleep.”

“Oh, please,” said Mai. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“You better think long and hard about those two sweet little girls I just showed you. You really want them to have to grow up without a mother because she got locked up for life while they were still in diapers, hm?”

The gentle smile on the young mother’s face was so eerily sincere, the rest of us couldn’t bear to look, instead keeping our eyes trained on the video as if to burn the sight of this famous illustrator’s shame into our retinas. We’d likely never see it again.

When the video changed again, it transitioned to a sunlit scene. This time, it was Taiga-san who reacted first—by tumbling backward onto the tatami mats behind him like he’d just been hit in the chest by a bullet. He fell so hard his yukata came slightly undone, revealing his sun-kissed collarbone to the whole group.

Unlike him being three years older than us when he switched into our college, this was one instance of Taiga-san’s eccentricity that even I couldn’t defend: The video showed him standing in the middle of the main campus plaza holding a “Free Hugs” sign. As a huge crowd of students passed him by without any notice whatsoever, a guy who looked like an exchange student stopped and raised his arm to greet Taiga-san. He did not, however, give him a hug. No one did, in the video’s entire one-minute runtime. It was kind of surreal.

Just when I thought it was over, the scene changed yet again. He was standing in front of a subway station in the big city holding the same sign. This time, a rather seedy looking fellow with bleached blond hair walked up to him and gave him a hug, while laughing right in his face at how stupid he looked. Having now lifted himself up off the tatami mats, Taiga-san seemed deeply distressed about the mere existence of this video. Huh. Guess even the oddballs among us have their fair share of dirty laundry, I thought to myself. This was a rather eye-opening epiphany for me.

“I’m the one who gave her this one,” said Hibiki. “And the guy who filmed it.”

“Et tu, Hibiki…” said Taiga-san.

“Was wondering why she asked if I had any footage lying around from our college days. But hey—at least it’s nice to look back and laugh at, right? Same goes for you, Hanao—nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Just for the record,” said Kao, “when I say that video better get deleted, I also expect you all to erase it from your memories as well. Or else.”

As amusing as it was to watch our two senseis go at it like this, I couldn’t help but feel unnerved at what kind of humiliation Mai had prepared for me next. To be honest, though, I couldn’t think of anything she could possibly have on tape that would be more embarrassing than the anecdote about me throwing a drunken childish tantrum at Hibiki’s place before passing out on the couch.

Following this third dose of painfully curated video content, the scene suddenly shifted to a much wider angle shot.

For as much as I’d been bracing for humiliation, I was actually a little let down. The video showed a rudimentary stage, which had been set up in front of a massive lecture hall blackboard. Some cheap amps and instruments were laid out on top of it, along with some recycled multi-purpose microphones. Then, the band walked out on stage to scattered applause—with myself coming out last, because I was trying to play it cool as the lead vocalist. I wore a blue leather jacket, a white T-shirt, and some near-black jeans.

After saying good morning to a crowd that was composed almost entirely of my own friends and acquaintances, I picked up my guitar, waited for our shirtless drummer (who was one year older than the rest of us) to count us in, and started strumming along to the beat.

“Oh, man, what a trip,” I said. “I didn’t think there was any surviving footage of us.”

“It’s from our junior year festival,” said Mai. “Courtesy of Karin-kun.”

Dang, I was cooler than I remember. I actually look the part. And so does Hibiki, playing lead guitar. This actually isn’t embarrassing in the slightest.

“Wait, Mai,” I said. “I thought this was supposed to be a cringe compilation?”

“What?! No!” she replied. “I just wanted to edit together some old videos of everyone having fun and living out their youths!”

“Damn, I wish I’d saved some more embarrassing videos of Chizuru too…” said Karin, right as the song began. I could tell my throat was in peak condition for this particular show as well—and I had a hunch that Karin deliberately chose the best live performance he had footage of for Mai. He was just trying to play it cool right now.

The song itself was about as long as the previous video segments had been, with the credits rolling over the outro listing the performers and videographer. As I gave my past self a little round of applause, the other group members all started booing and complaining about how unfair it was that my video was so much better than theirs. But that wasn’t my fault!

“This is just the compiled version, by the way,” said Mai. “I also have the full video files for each of them if you guys wanna watch those too.”

“Think you can play Chizuru’s, at least,” said Hibiki. “Since hers isn’t embarrassing in the slightest.”

At Hibiki’s request, Mai pulled up the full fifteen-minute video of our band’s entire set on her iPad. During the first song we’d already heard, everyone took the opportunity to break and get another drink. Kao poured me a glass of wine. When she’d spit it out earlier, I could tell from the smell alone it was probably a pretty expensive vintage. The taste seemed to corroborate that hypothesis.

“Man, I was so good at guitar back then,” said Hibiki.

He seemed far prouder of his past self in this video than in the Chinese one—and he wasn’t wrong. Even now, I could look back on his college guitar skills and agree he was genuinely a cut above the rest. Maybe not to the point he could find a career as a studio musician or anything, but he was definitely too good to be playing in an amateur band like ours. And I say this as someone who used to stay as late as I possibly could, almost every day, to practice with him in the clubroom.

“You still play?” asked Mai.

“Only every now and then,” said Hibiki, taking his eyes off the video as he turned to face her. “Like, when I hear a song I really like, I try to play it by ear. But it’s definitely not enough to keep me from getting rusty. Chizuru still plays in a band, though, I hear.”

Everyone except Hibiki and Karin looked at me in awe and admiration.

“Yep!” I said, nodding three times. “Just a little group I threw together with some coworkers and colleagues. We’ve done a few recording sessions, taken part in two music festivals for amateur bands, and are currently practicing for our third!”

“You’re probably better than I am by now,” said Hibiki. “Man, that hurts. Guess I’ll have to start practicing again so you don’t show me up.”

“Yeah, you should!”

Hibiki looked strangely pleased for a guy who’d just said it “hurts,” like a proud old master watching his former pupil surpass him.

“Looks like the tortoise finally overtook the hare, eh?” I added, promptly leaning my head on my hands, elbows on the table, my middle fingers stabbed into my cheeks to keep my expression stiff. This was a ploy I often used to keep myself from crying and buy myself more time to sort out my mess of emotions.

It was getting harder and harder to play it cool. When Hibiki said it “hurts,” I couldn’t help but interpret it a different way entirely.

I knew I shouldn’t think like this—that I’d only depress myself by reading into his every little word. This was probably just a case of that one psychological phenomenon, where when you start consciously paying attention to something, you start to notice it more and more. What was it called again? The Barnum effect? The Baader-Meinhof phenomenon? Whatever it was, I could tell I was suffering from it right now. But I knew I really shouldn’t be stressing myself out about it.

Just because I was now working under the assumption that Hibiki had a crush on me, it didn’t mean he was saying “that hurts” as though it were some thinly veiled statement of jealousy or whatever toward my current band’s guitarist. I should just brush thoughts like that off as what they were: illogical, passing thoughts.

But to be totally honest, it hit me pretty hard to realize I would probably never be able to take anything Hibiki said at face value again, under the impression that we were just “good friends.” Kind of like how I could never really enjoy foie gras again the same way after I found out how it was made. Sometimes, ignorance truly was bliss.

“Man, Chizuru,” said Hibiki. “How did I never notice before that you always have your hands folded at your waist when you’re emceeing to the crowd between songs? You look like a freaking bellboy.”

In the video, my former self had just said her goodbyes to the crowd and run off stage after finishing our third song, oblivious to the fact that nearly ten years later, someone would be teasing her for her body language. Karin, who’d been the one filming, turned the camera on himself and flashed a peace sign before ending the recording.

I could feel the nails of my middle fingers leaving deep marks in my cheeks already.

Apparently, Mai had some more fun activities in store for us, but since everyone but myself was still reeling with embarrassment from their respective video segments, we agreed to take a brief time-out to give everyone time to recover. We turned the TV to some random trivia game show, which everyone idly took part in.

Whenever Karin or I knew one of the answers, we’d blurt it out immediately. But whenever Hibiki did, he’d keep quiet and wait for everyone else to figure it out. I felt like this contrast in our personalities spoke volumes as to why Operation Heartbreak was going to be an uphill battle, to say the least. But we didn’t have time to concoct a new plan before the trip was over—and the wedding was inching closer every second.

As everyone continued merrily sipping their drinks, I pretended like I was starting to doze off, just as Karin and I had discussed. I’d assured him countless times I wouldn’t be so careless as to actually pass out in the middle of the operation—but alas. Perhaps the hot flashes from that dip in the hot springs had dehydrated me too much. Or maybe the fact that I’d been too tense to get much sleep last night had caught up with me.

When I finally awoke to blinding lights directly overhead, I sat up with a start and began frantically surveying my surroundings. Karin and Hibiki were both looking at me with wide-eyed stares. It almost felt like I’d gone back to our college days.

I picked up my phone from where it lay on the floor cushion I’d been using as a pillow, and checked the time. I was relieved to see it was still only about 1 a.m. Karin furrowed his brow and gave me a cross look, while Hibiki simply laughed.

“You look like you just slept through your alarm on a workday,” he said.

“Sorry, guess I was more tired than I realized…” I said. “Where are Mai and Kao?”

I noticed that Taiga-san was lying on his side in a corner of the room.

“Well, Hanao drunkenly declared she was gonna go bathe in the hot springs until 2 a.m.,” said Hibiki. “And Mai-san wasn’t about to let her go alone in that state, obviously.”

“Gotcha…” I said.

It seemed that falling asleep had been a lucky break, then. Had I been awake, I would have probably gotten roped into going along with them.

“How you holding up?” asked Hibiki.

“Just fine,” I said, trying my best to snap myself out of my sleepy stupor. “Feeling a little woozy, though, so I think I’ll go get some fresh air.”

I stood up and pretended to totter a bit on my feet—only to stumble forward without actually intending to. Naturally, there was no way Hibiki would let me walk out of the room by myself in this condition.

“You’re lookin’ pretty unsteady there,” he said.

“Nah, I’m fine,” I said. “Just gonna go to the window out in the hallway.”

I didn’t need eyes in the back of my head to tell what happened next: Hibiki shot a quick glance at Karin, then shrugged his shoulders and stood up. Then, instead of forcing me to sit back down again, he walked up alongside me to offer me a shoulder to lean on so that I wouldn’t fall over like a drunk marionette.

“I’ll be fine, Hibiki,” I said. “I’m almost thirty years old, y’know.”

“Yeah, exactly,” he said with a sarcastic smile. “You’re an old woman now. Can’t have you breaking your back on us.”

“Okay, fair point,” I said, accepting his show of concern. I couldn’t tell you how many times he’d lent me a shoulder like this over the past decade—not to mention how many cabs he’d bought me.

We put on our slippers and stepped into the hallway. As soon as we closed the door behind us, we were enveloped in a world of silence. In the cold air of the dimly lit corridor, we could just barely make out each other’s faces illuminated by the soft light of the moon and the emergency exit sign.

Things hadn’t gone exactly according to plan thus far, but it was hard to complain about the results now that I’d successfully gotten Hibiki alone—though I’d need to apologize to Karin later for my carelessness.

Since I had no way of knowing when Kao and Mai might return, I wanted to move forward with the operation ASAP. And yet, it was so eerily quiet out here that I felt a bit too nervous to have a conversation—and I could tell Hibiki felt the same. We just kind of cracked a smile at each other.

“You know,” he said, raising an eyebrow, “we could always head up to the roof if you’re feeling up to it. Can’t let the smokers hog all the good scenery up there.”

His voice was a soft, almost shiver-inducing whisper; I nodded. But since it was probably going to be too cold up there, I suggested we put on coats first. We headed back to the men’s room first to grab his, and I picked up the women’s room key so I’d be able to get mine. We asked if Karin wanted to come up with us, but he refused on the basis of it being too chilly out. This was, of course, all according to plan.

Upon entering the empty women’s room for the first time in hours, I went straight for my trusty leather jacket. I’d packed it just in case, but hadn’t had a chance to wear it yet. Since I was already in a kimono, I simply draped it over my shoulders, then locked the door and headed back down the hallway toward the men’s room. When Hibiki saw what I was wearing, he acknowledged it with a one-sided smirk.

I stepped back into the men’s room and set the key back on the table so the other girls could use it when they returned. Karin gave me an encouraging nod, then made a little quip about me “finally putting on my combat uniform.” This helped lighten my nerves. I nodded back at him, then stepped back outside.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen someone wear a leather jacket over a yukata before,” said Hibiki, snickering softly as he waited for me out in the hallway. “You almost look like a fighting game character or something.”

“As long as I get to be a close-range powerhouse,” I whispered back.

When I got close to him, I could smell a different kind of alcohol on his breath than what he’d been drinking before I passed out. Since I had ulterior motives here, it relieved me to know my target was far from sober. That would definitely make things easier.

We rode the clunky old elevator up to the sixth floor, then followed the map on the wall. The stairwell up was past the guest rooms. After climbing two sets of stairs, we reached the door to the rooftop. Hibiki and I looked at each other—there was a sign posted stating anyone who wanted to smoke up there had to contact the front desk in advance. But it was definitely after hours, which meant the roof was closed for the evening.

And so, we gave up. We’d have to make do with the cool night air blowing in through the small window at the top of the stairwell, which was opened just a crack. I wasn’t sure if it was the fact that we weren’t in a fully enclosed room, the way the stairwell was constructed, or what, but our voices didn’t seem to carry very far. It was a decent place for us to have a little chat.

I realized I must have been holding my breath while climbing the stairs, as I now felt pretty winded. As I took deep breaths in time with the intermittent breeze blowing in through the window, I could feel my pulse racing.

“Well, maybe it’s for the best,” said Hibiki. “Looks pretty cold out there anyhow.”

I folded my arms and leaned my back against the wall, then I gazed at the scenery beyond the tiny window. We were now standing directly under the moonlight, so we could see each other’s expressions more clearly. Hibiki didn’t relax his posture one bit and instead chose to remain standing at attention as he gazed up at the moon. Or maybe that was just my imagination, and he was actually just gazing out vacantly into the night.

“So, what all happened after I fell asleep?” I asked, trying to enunciate a bit more while still keeping my voice down.

“Hanao wouldn’t leave me the hell alone about not getting married,” he said. “Said the longer a guy like me went without a ring on his finger, despite making good money and having fairly respectable looks, the more fishy it would look to potential clients and the world at large. Told me I should drop everything and just focus on settling down.”

“Oh, I’m sure that must’ve been fun.”

“Yeah, it was great. Ended up having to explain to her just how hard it is to meet people in my line of work,” he went on, having interpreted my sarcasm properly. “What is it about married people and trying to convince all their other friends to get hitched too? Karin did the same thing last time we went drinking. I swear, it’s like some sort of cult.”

Whether this happened prior to us concocting the operation or after, it seemed Karin was putting in a lot of work on my behalf. Especially considering he’d also taken on the burden of driving today. I’d have to get him a thank-you gift.

“I mean, Karin and Kao both seem pretty happy,” I said. “Maybe, for them, it’s not too different from eating at a really good new restaurant and wanting to tell your friends so they can try it too.”

“I dunno, he made it sound like he got thrown in the doghouse the other day…” said Hibiki, before repeating the anecdote Karin had shared with him earlier through stifled laughter. I had to admit, it was pretty amusing to picture a brawny, bearded guy like Karin getting mercilessly chewed out by a woman as small and dainty as his wife.

“I blame you for turning him into a total gamer,” I said. “Up until high school, he was apparently quite the athletic type.”

“They say the fault lies more with the influenced than the influencer.”

“What, are you quoting psychology at me now?”

“Nah, I just made it up.”

“I’m gonna punch you.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at how our rapport hadn’t changed a bit in over ten years—even if the thought gave me some rather conflicted feelings as well.

“Glad I managed to make myself a devoted gaming buddy without having to suffer any of the consequences myself,” he said.

“That’s not something to be proud of, y’know,” I said, mostly in jest. He was right, though—he’d always been extremely good at establishing close relationships with people, while deftly avoiding any of the potential negatives that typically came along with that.

He was the sort of person who was extremely conflict-averse, to the point that he never did anything that might hurt anyone else—and, consequently, end up hurting himself. As a result of this, he was still on good terms with nearly all of his exes. And, while we’d certainly had our little spats over the years, he’d never once gotten into a serious fight with anyone in our friend group. As someone who’d been through a friendship-ending-tier fight with Kao at one point, I had to give him his due props for this—but at the same time, I knew it was largely just that he was good at pretending not to care. I said as much to him once, even, and he responded with “Nah, I’m just a little more grown-up than you, that’s all,” and one of his trademark cynical smirks.

Of course, this proclivity of his only ended up becoming an even bigger boon for him once he entered the workforce. Public accountants seemed like the sort of people most companies would hate, as they always audited them and held them accountable. Yet according to Hibiki, he had very positive relationships with the vast majority of his clients.

I was probably the only one suffering from the negative side effects of his conflict-averse personality. Was it even possible to wring a confession out of a guy like him, when he surely had to know it would destroy our current relationship? It would literally require him to risk social suicide, and that was just completely at odds with the way he conducted himself.

For the record—and I don’t know who this excuse is meant to convince, but regardless—I wasn’t uncomfortable with the fact that Hibiki had a crush on me in and of itself. No part of me felt disgusted at the thought of a good friend having romantic feelings for me; it was just that I was no longer in a position to even consider them. Simple as that.

Once you put your feelings into words, though, there was no going back. This was something I’d learned the hard way by now, so I felt like I could honestly relate to why Hibiki didn’t want to make a move on me, ironically enough.

“So, hey,” I said, after resolving my inner debate, “I know this might be a weird time to bring this up, but…”

He was smart enough to tell what this change from my usual candid tone of voice was meant to signify. He knew my best traits, as well as my worst shortcomings, after all.

He was my best friend—and I had to be straight with him.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, Hibiki,” I said.

“Is this a good something, or a bad something?” he asked.

“Not sure. You be the judge, I guess.”

I’d prepared the additional excuse that I didn’t want to bring this up in front of the others, because I felt like it would just get brushed off, but it seemed I wouldn’t need it. Hibiki neither looked away, nor tried to change the subject. I wasn’t sure why I’d thought he might; we’d had plenty of deep heart-to-hearts over the years, and he’d always been pretty good about that.

I felt like a pretty horrible friend for only realizing now that I probably should have been more upfront with him about all of this from the get-go. It was just like I’d said to Karin before: This was all 100 percent my fault for doing nothing but hope the problem would solve itself. And as time went by, and the wedge of our friendship was driven deeper and deeper, it was now such an inextricable part of our lives, so deeply embedded that even the slightest shift might cause a fatal fracture.

And here I was, trying to shatter it completely. But I also was doing it because I wanted to believe in us—that our friendship was strong enough to weather any storm that might come its way. Though I knew this was a pretty heartless thing for me to say right now, as the one responsible for the oncoming storm.

“So, the thing is…” I began.

It was like Karin said: I needed to use everything I knew about Hibiki to my advantage.

“I got transferred to another department,” I said, “so I’m actually gonna be moving from here pretty soon.”

“Oh, no kidding?” said Hibiki. “Like, to a whole ’nother prefecture or something?”

“No, it’s still in Tokyo. Just in another part of the city. And it won’t be until next year, but still.”

Though that’s not the only reason I’m moving, obviously.

Hibiki couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at how anticlimactic he apparently found this reveal.

“And why, exactly, are you going out of your way to tell me this?” he asked.

“Well, I mean…whether I remember it afterward or not, I do kinda take advantage of being so close to your place pretty often,” I said. “But now I won’t be able to just swing by casually after work anymore, which feels kinda sad to think about. Still, I figured I should at least thank you for all your hospitality up until now. Means a lot.”

“Damn. Hard to tease you when you start getting all sentimental like that.”

And true to his word, he softened his smirk and turned to address me sincerely. Even for a guy like him who’d usually never take a thank-you without making some sort of quip, he knew when to shut up and accept a proper statement of gratitude.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “I think I’ll probably be living there for a few more years, though, so the door’s still open for ya if you’re ever in the neighborhood.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Well? Was that a good something, or a bad something?”

“How the hell should I know? Is this gonna be a promotion for you?”

“Not directly, but it’ll definitely open more options up for me down the line.”

“Okay, then I guess it’s a good something.”

He really was a good guy—celebrating someone else’s achievements without being even remotely concerned about how the change might affect him.

“So,” I said, “you got anything you wanna tell me?”

“Like what?” he asked.

“Like, I dunno. Something new in your own life, or something you’ve never told me before. Figured you must have at least one thing like that. Just this once, I promise I’ll hear you out without teasing you or being shocked, no matter what it might be!”

This was it: the first stage of the operation. A plan so blatantly transparent that, if Hibiki ever found out how much thought we’d put into it, he’d surely laugh at our incredible stupidity. But I knew Hibiki—maybe even better than he knew himself.

For starters, I knew if I was going to wring a confession out of a guy as conflict-averse as him, there were a few major prerequisites I’d have to put in place. Not only would I need to make sure we were alone, but I’d also need to make sure we were both talking to each other on an even playing field emotionally, being careful not to make the vibe feel too overly serious or too candid and jokey. I needed to put him in a position where he felt like I was giving him a safe space to express his feelings without any fear of judgment or me taking it the wrong way. Which was precisely why I didn’t want people making any weird, awkward jokes about us during the Game of Life earlier: I knew it might give him cold feet.

On top of that, I also knew Hibiki had a people pleaser’s mentality, so when someone presented a deep topic for discussion, he always made sure to bring something of his own to the table—especially when he could tell the other person was really baring their heart. I still remembered the time when I’d confided in him about having a one-sided crush on one of our mutual friends back in the day, and he’d responded by admitting to me how shallow and empty he felt going through one girl after another in college without ever making any real connections.

Or for another example, I’d heard through the grapevine (read: Karin) that whenever the men in our friend group got together and engaged in a bit of so-called “guy talk” (of the vulgar variety), even Hibiki would participate, despite not seeming like the type to kiss and tell at all. Not that I had interest in knowing what specific sorts of things they talked about in these instances, mind you. The point was: Hibiki would go out of his way to make sure whoever he was talking to didn’t feel uncomfortable or regret opening up to him—even if it meant making himself uncomfortable in the process.

So, I was fully confident he wouldn’t let this heartfelt statement of mine go unanswered. And even if the first response I got wasn’t the confession I was looking for, I was prepared to keep hitting him with one corny sentiment after another until I hopefully managed to wring it out of him. With any luck, the fact that we were on vacation right now might even have him in a more comfortable, free-speaking mood than usual.

“Oh, it’s my turn now, is it?” he asked.

The only problem with this particular strategy was there were very few major secrets of mine that Hibiki didn’t already know—probably not enough to fill the chambers in a revolver. So if it got to the point I was having to reveal stupid, childish things—like how I still had, to this day, a button from my high school senpai’s uniform, which they’d given to me after graduation—I’d probably just abandon ship. I’d told Karin this was my emergency escape plan too. He just kind of laughed and shook his head. “Maybe we all know each other too well for this to work.”

After thinking it over a bit, he let out a little chuckle of resignation.

“Okay,” he said. “I guess maybe I’ll take this opportunity to thank you, as well.”

Thank me? What had I done that deserved gratitude?

“For what?” I asked.

“Well, to be honest…” he began.

I immediately knew it wasn’t going to be the confession I was looking for. But I was so invested in the operation at this point that I waited on pins and needles for his next words regardless.

Hibiki continued, “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this before, but my parents weren’t around a lot when I was a kid.”

“Oh, really? Yeah, I’m not sure you have.”

I didn’t know much about Hibiki’s family, honestly, aside from the fact that they were a family of four, and I’d met his younger sister on one occasion. But now that he mentioned it, I realized I couldn’t recall him ever talking much about his parents. Nor could I remember ever asking about them, for that matter.

“Even when my sister and I were really little,” he continued, “my parents were pretty much always out of the house, whether at work or some social engagement. Basically, the only things I remember eating at home were little side dishes and frozen meals we bought with the money they’d left for us on the counter. After a while, I got so sick of eating ready-made stuff that I even learned to cook a little bit for my sister’s sake… And those skills definitely came in handy after I moved out, but still. I’ve got virtually no memories of us eating together as a family, or of them playing with us over the weekends, or anything like that. And I remember I really struggled with that during puberty, feeling like I never got a proper childhood, or wishing I’d been born as someone else entirely.”

While I could see how some kids might relish this level of freedom from parental supervision in adolescence, it definitely wasn’t a stretch to call it neglect either.

“And as you might imagine, we’ve also never gone on any family vacations,” Hibiki went on. “Don’t think we ever will at this point either, since my sister and I are a bit too old for that sort of thing now.”

“Huh…” I said. “Yeah, I had no idea that was your upbringing…”

There wasn’t a lot more I could say to this. As someone who’d had—and still maintained—a pretty healthy and positive relationship with her parents, I couldn’t exactly relate. Any attempt would just ring hollow.

“That’s why I’m actually really grateful to you and the others,” said Hibiki. “Every time we go on a group adventure like this, I feel like I’m finally getting the sort of family road trip experience I always wanted as a kid, but never got. So, yeah—thanks for that.”

“Hey, no need to thank me!” I said. “But you’re welcome, I guess.”

For some reason, this sentiment made me blush. To think the others and I had been such a source of joy and fulfillment for him that we were helping to fill the holes in his childhood heart… The thought was so deeply gratifying, I couldn’t help but feel bashful.

But then all at once, I felt a bitter chill run through me.

“Happy to go on adventures with you anytime,” I said.

Because I knew I was actively working to put an end to that.

It was only because we were “just friends” that we could spend time like this together without hesitation. But as soon as any hint of romantic feelings were introduced into that equation and acknowledged, it would be pretty difficult for us to hang out in the same way we used to—even in a group setting, let alone one-on-one.

Suddenly, I was reminded of something Mai had said at one point. She had the chance to meet a popular actor she liked—her company hired them to star in a commercial they were producing—and she got to learn what they were like behind the scenes. Her conclusion was, “I wish I could have stayed just a fan.”

At the time, I’d found this really interesting—the idea that knowing less about someone you respected could actually be preferable. That once you learned what someone was like in private, it became a lot harder to overlook what bothered you about them, or your differences of opinion.

But unfortunately, we were all adults now.

We couldn’t just stay oblivious kids forever.

Karin would probably be furious at me for this, but I could feel myself starting to get cold feet. Was it really my place to force a confession out of Hibiki if it meant destroying the happiness he’d found in our friend group? As much of a sarcastic punk as he could be, I knew he wasn’t just yanking my chain about feeling this way either—he really did think of us like the family he never had.

All of a sudden, I couldn’t help but feel like maybe Hibiki was the only grown-up out of all of us, able to keep his conflicting feelings to himself for the sake of maintaining the friendship. Was there really any reason for me to shatter that for him?

“…Absolutely.”

“Pardon?”

“Oh, sorry—I was just emphasizing that yeah, I’d absolutely go on adventures with you anytime,” I said, backpedaling. Apparently, whether due to alcohol or lack of sleep, my brain had bugged out, and I’d accidentally said my inner thoughts aloud.

But no, there absolutely was a reason for me to be doing this. And not just because I wanted him to be free from pining over someone who could never reciprocate, or because I didn’t want him to see me in a wedding dress while he was still harboring secret feelings for me. Obviously, those things were part of it too.

But it went deeper than that.

It was because we were friends.

Not “just” friends, but true friends.

We’d been through thick and thin together. Made a band together. Graduated college together. All without ever letting anything come between us. And yet, for years now, Hibiki had been maintaining his silence about this, because he knew opening his mouth would mean destroying our relationship. But if I let him continue to shoulder that burden alone, we’d soon reach a breaking point regardless. I wanted us to be able to face and shoulder that burden together. No matter how uncomfortable it might be.

“Wow,” said Hibiki. “That’s a little cheesy, don’tcha think?”

“Excuse me?!” I replied. “After what you just said, buddy?! Don’t laugh at me!”

And yet, there we were, laughing together all over again, as the autumn leaves out the window rustled along.

“Well, the roof’s closed, and you’re clearly still pretty out of it,” said Hibiki. “So, what do you say we get outta here? Don’t think I can take much more of this heart-to-heart without feeling embarrassed tomorrow morning.”

“Hey, nothing wrong with a heart-to-heart,” I said. “But yeah, we should go.”

I wasn’t about to detain him here just for the sake of the operation—especially since it was hard to imagine he’d suddenly confess his feelings for me after baring his soul in a completely different way.

Unfortunately, it seemed the night was a total bust. Hibiki had preemptively countered me by revealing a side of him none of us previously knew. I couldn’t say I was pleased by this development, but it was fine: I still had several backup plans up my sleeve. And I felt glad to have learned we were such a source of joy in his life. I could say with even greater confidence that our friendship was the real deal.

Just then, a thought occurred to me: What if this was actually part of the reason he’d fallen for me to begin with, rather than say, Kao or Mai? Was it just because I was the closest friend he’d ever had?

To be totally honest, I’d always been clueless as to how and when he’d developed feelings for me. Karin once said, “Who knows? Maybe he just thinks you’ve got a cute face.” But there surely had to be more to it than that, after all this time. How ridiculous would it be to not realize you were attracted to someone’s appearance until years down the line?

As Hibiki started walking down the stairs, I glanced over at his face in profile. I’d never really found myself thinking about whether or not he was particularly attractive before, but in recent years, I had noticed his features had taken on a more subtle ruggedness with age, which was fairly popular with the ladies these days. His general vibe and fashion sense were a good fit for this general “rugged man” aesthetic too, so it was hard to deny he had a pretty well-rounded appearance, all things considered.

“Say, have you ever thought about growing a beard?” I asked.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Hibiki responded. “And no, I can’t grow facial hair to save my life. Even if I tried, it wouldn’t look good on me like it does on Karin.”

“That just makes me wanna see you try it even more.”

Since I’d no doubt get a ton of flak from Mai and Kao if they saw me walking back to the room with Hibiki, I decided to head to the hot springs by myself to see if the girls were still there. As I walked down the cold, dimly lit corridor, I couldn’t help but notice how I felt a bit too happy for someone coming back from a failed mission. I tried to pull myself together and act natural. However, it seemed I failed at this. When I bumped into the two other girls exiting the changing room, with steam still rising off of their skin, I apparently “scared them half to death” by “grinning creepily” in the middle of a long, dark hallway. I looked like something out of a horror movie.

I took a quick dip just to get the sweat off my body, then headed back to rejoin the group for another round of drinking. By the time I made it back to the women’s room, it was around four in the morning. Mai had left earlier, so a very drunk Kao and I caressed her sleeping head, forcibly waking her up so we could wish her good night. Then we crawled into our own futons.

For the next ten minutes or so before I passed out, I reflected on what Hibiki had said to me earlier. Something told me I probably fell asleep with a big, fat smile on my face.