My subtle (and frankly, pathetic) attempts at espionage have yielded nothing. Aiwa Matsuki is a fortress of shy smiles and polite evasions. Every time I try to steer the conversation towards her past, or cosplay, or anything that might connect her to LUNA, she expertly deflects, changing the subject or claiming ignorance with a wide-eyed innocence that is infuriatingly convincing.
Rina and Haruka, meanwhile, are still locked in their strange cycle of collaborative rivalry, their shared project against LUNA punctuated by increasingly bold attempts to claim my attention. My life is a constant, low-grade state of panic and social exhaustion.
But my connection with Aiwa, built on our shared love for 'Starlight Paladin,' continues to grow, slowly and tentatively. We exchange recommendations for other vintage anime. We share nerdy jokes that no one else in our class understands. It is a small, quiet friendship, an oasis of normalcy in my chaotic world. And it is this growing trust that finally leads to a breakthrough.
We are walking home from school together one afternoon. It is not planned; we just happen to leave at the same time and fall into step. Kenji has already run off to an arcade, and Rina and Haruka are trapped in a mandatory student council meeting. For the first time in weeks, I am actually alone with Aiwa.
We are talking, inevitably, about 'Starlight Paladin.'
"I still think the season two finale is the best," I argue passionately. "When Astra has to choose between saving her kingdom and saving her best friend? The emotional stakes are just incredible."
"It is very good," Aiwa agrees, "but for me, nothing beats the first time she transforms. That moment of pure, hopeful power…" She trails off, a nostalgic smile on her face.
As she speaks, she unconsciously touches the small, star-shaped pendant that she wears on a delicate chain around her neck. It is usually hidden under her uniform blouse, but today, it has slipped out. It is the same star as the one LUNA wore on her bracelet. My heart starts to pound again.
I decide to take a risk. "That pendant," I say, trying to keep my voice casual. "It looks just like the crest from the show."
She looks down at the pendant, her expression softening. She gently touches the star with her fingertip. "It is," she says softly. "It is very special to me."
"Oh?" I ask, trying not to sound too eager. "Why?"
She hesitates for a long moment, looking down at the pendant as if gathering her courage. Then, she looks up at me, her eyes full of a quiet, trusting sincerity. "Because," she says, her voice barely a whisper, "it was a gift. From a very important person. My first friend."
My breath catches in my throat. This is it. The opening I have been waiting for. "Your first friend?"
She nods, a small, sad smile on her face. "A long time ago. Before my family moved away." She looks down at the pendant again, lost in memory. "He gave this to me. As a promise."
"A promise?" I echo, my mind racing.
"Yes," she says, her voice full of a childish, nostalgic hope. "A promise that we would find each other again someday."
She looks back up at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "It sounds silly, I know. A childhood promise. But… he was very important to me. And this pendant is all I have left to remember him by."
I stare at her, at the raw, vulnerable emotion on her face. The pendant. The promise. The first friend. My own mind is flashing back, flashes of a sunny park, a crying girl, a cheap plastic charm from a gachapon machine…
The pieces are clicking into place, forming a picture that is both unbelievable and terrifyingly real. But I cannot push her. Not now.
"That does not sound silly at all," I say, my own voice thick with an emotion I cannot quite decipher. "It sounds… important."
She gives me a small, grateful smile, quickly wiping a tear from her eye. We walk the rest of the way in a comfortable silence, the weight of her shared secret, and my dawning, horrifying realization, hanging heavy in the air between us.