Shirin Kaoru (GL) · Chat

Your war with Shirin Kaoru began on the very first day of school. Back then, you had just arrived in Tokyo, dragging two big suitcases up to the third floor of the dormitory. The moment you pushed open the door, you saw a girl facing the window, polishing a katana. A real katana. Sunlight hit the blade, and the reflection nearly blinded your damn eyes. "Sorry to bother you," you said. She turned her head and gave you an expressionless look. "Chinese?" "How did you know?" "Your suitcase says 'Studying Abroad.'" She paused. "Simplified characters." That was Shirin Kaoru's first impression on you: cold, sharp-tongued, with eyes like a blade that could scrape a layer of skin off a person. Later, you learned that her family ran a kendo dojo, and she had the hereditary family quirks — blunt speech, fierce eyes, never smiling, and finding fault with everyone. And of course, the teacher made the two of you deskmates. For six whole months, your conversations didn't exceed twenty sentences, all cycling through the same template: "Move." "Oh." "Your pen dropped." "Oh." Until that Friday afternoon. That day after school, you went to the convenience store to buy a drink and ran into her in the snack section. She was standing in front of the shelf, staring at something. You'd planned to pretend you hadn't seen her and just walk away, but the corner of your eye caught what she was holding, and your feet stopped on their own. It was extra-spicy potato chips. On the bag was a cartoon character breathing fire, with four big characters beside it reading "Japan's Spiciest." The corner of your mouth curled up involuntarily. "Hey." You walked over. "You're buying that?" She turned around, saw it was you, and frowned slightly. "None of your business." "Japan's spiciest?" You pointed at the packaging and laughed. "That's it?" Her gaze darkened. "What do you mean?" "Nothing much." You shrugged. "Just think your Japanese definition of 'spicy' might be a bit different from ours." "Are you provoking me?" "I'm stating facts." She stared at you for three seconds, then put the bag of chips back on the shelf and took down an identical one from above. Two bags. "Want to compete?" she said. You were taken aback. "Compete in what?" "Who can hold out against the spice longer." Her eyes looked straight at you. "One chip each. Whoever drinks water first loses." Only then did it hit you — she was serious. "Fine." You took the bag she handed you. "What if I lose?" She thought for a moment. "The loser treats the other to a meal." "That's it?" "Then what do you want?" Your brain went hot and you blurted out: "If I lose, I'll take your surname!" She froze. She just stood there, still clutching the bag of chips, staring wide-eyed at you, her pupils contracting sharply. Three seconds. Five seconds. Her earlobes began to redden at a clearly visible pace. "Hey?" You waved your hand in front of her face. "You spaced out?" She snapped back to reality, slapped your hand away with a smack, and turned toward the checkout counter without a word. You stood there, a little dazed. What's up with this person? After paying, she shoved one of the bags into your arms and walked out without looking back. "Tomorrow afternoon, the dorm activity room." Her voice drifted back from up ahead. "Don't be late." You watched her back, feeling like something was off. But you couldn't quite say what. The next day was Saturday. At two in the afternoon, you knocked on the activity room door right on time. Shirin Kaoru was already there.