"Have you ever actually texted her?" I asked, watching Matsuda fumble with his phone. We were sitting in the school courtyard during lunch break, tucked away in a quiet corner where the cherry trees provided enough cover to feel private.
"Once," he admitted, not looking up. "About club equipment inventory."
"And?"
"She responded very professionally." He pushed his glasses up nervously. "With a spreadsheet."
Of course she did. That was such an Akane thing to do – turning even a simple text conversation into an organized database. I couldn't help but smile, remembering the time she'd created a cross-referenced system just to keep track of which manga volumes Yuki had borrowed from me.
"Okay, first thing," I said, pulling out my own phone. "Let's exchange contacts. That way I can help you practice normal conversations before you try talking to her."
Matsuda's eyes widened slightly. "Practice... conversations?"
"Trust me, it helps. How do you think Segawa learned to occasionally speak without mentioning Admiral Yi?" I paused. "Well, for at least two sentences at a time."
As if on cue, Segawa's voice boomed across the courtyard: "Behold! I have captured the essence of maritime warfare in the reflection of the vending machine!"
"Speaking of which..." I quickly typed out a message to Akane: Your star pupil is terrorizing the drinks again.
A moment later, my phone buzzed: Already on it. Bringing emergency tripod as distraction.
"See?" I showed Matsuda the exchange. "Normal conversation. No spreadsheets required."
He studied the messages intently, like they were sacred texts containing the secrets of human interaction. "But how do you know what to say?"
"Start small," I suggested. "Ask her about the photos she's working on for the school festival. She spent all weekend sorting through submissions – trust me, she's dying to talk about it with someone who actually understands photography."
"I couldn't just..." he trailed off, staring at his phone like it might bite him.
"Why not? You're in the club. It's a perfectly normal question."
"But what if—"
"Matsuda-kun," I interrupted gently, "you've been watching her through your camera lens for a year. Maybe it's time to try seeing her without it?"
He flinched slightly, but didn't deny it. After a long moment, he nodded and began typing something on his phone. Then immediately deleted it. Typed again. Deleted.
"Want me to look at it first?"
He hesitated, then handed me his phone. The draft message read: Excuse the interruption, Suzuki-senpai. I was wondering if you needed any assistance with the festival photo selection process. I understand if you're too busy.
"Okay, couple things," I said. "First, you don't need to apologize for existing. Second, you're making it too easy for her to say no." I edited the message: Hey Suzuki-senpai, how's the festival photo selection going? Some great submissions this year.
Matsuda read it over, brow furrowed. "Isn't that too... casual?"
"It's friendly, not casual. There's a difference." I handed his phone back. "Try it."
He stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity, thumb hovering over the send button. Just as I was about to offer more encouragement, a commotion from the direction of the vending machines caught our attention.
"The fleet requires sustenance!" Segawa declared. "These metal behemoths guard their treasures well, but with proper strategy—"
"Segawa-kun," Akane's voice cut through his monologue, "if you help me carry these props back to the club room, I'll show you how to use the panorama feature."
"A panoramic view of the battlefield? Excellent tactical advantage!"
I watched as Akane successfully herded Segawa away from the vending machines, managing to look both exasperated and oddly fond. When I turned back to Matsuda, I found him watching too, a soft expression on his face.
"She's pretty amazing, isn't she?" I said quietly.
He nodded, still watching Akane's retreating figure. Then, before he could second-guess himself any further, he pressed send.
We both stared at his phone, waiting. After what seemed like forever (but was probably closer to thirty seconds), it buzzed.
Actually, I could use another opinion on some of the composition choices. Do you have time after club today?
Matsuda's face lit up like someone had just handed him a limited edition lens. He looked at me, panic and joy warring in his expression.
"Well?" I prompted. "Do you have time after club today?"
He nodded rapidly, then started typing again. Deleted. Typed. Deleted.
I sighed and pulled out my own phone. Time to text Yuki – she was never going to believe this.
As I typed, I couldn't help but wonder if this was going to end up being more complicated than getting Segawa into the Photography Club. At least naval battles had predictable strategies.
Then again, when had anything at Shibuya High ever been simple?
The sun had already set by the time I made it home, my mind still running through the afternoon's events. Between Matsuda's awkward yet endearing attempt at conversation with Akane (he'd managed three whole sentences about composition techniques before retreating into silence) and Segawa's impromptu demonstration of "naval formation photography," it had been quite a day.
I noticed the unfamiliar shoes at the entrance – sleek brown boots with German labels that definitely weren't my mother's practical flats or my father's worn loafers. Something about them seemed vaguely familiar, tugging at old memories.
"I'm home," I called out, sliding off my own shoes.
"Rei-chan!" A familiar voice rang out, followed by rapid footsteps. "Look how tall you've gotten!"
Before I could process what was happening, I was engulfed in a tight hug that smelled of coffee and something distinctly foreign – perhaps European shampoo? When she pulled back, I found myself staring into a face I hadn't seen in four years, save for occasional video calls.
"Minako-nee?" I blinked, taking in her appearance. Her previously long black hair was now cut into a stylish bob, and she'd swapped her old glasses for contact lenses. But her smile was exactly as I remembered – the kind that made you feel like you were the most interesting person in the room.
"Surprise!" She beamed, bouncing slightly on her toes. Same old Minako-nee – she'd never quite learned to contain her excitement. "I finished my research project early, so I thought I'd come see my favorite cousin before starting my new job!"
"Your only cousin," I corrected automatically, falling back into our old pattern.
"Details, details." She waved dismissively. "Now come sit down and tell me everything. Your mother says you've been getting involved in some kind of club drama?"
I followed her into the living room, where my parents were setting out dinner. "It's not drama exactly..."
"Oh?" Minako raised an eyebrow, dropping onto the couch with her usual lack of ceremony. "Then what do you call helping a self-proclaimed reincarnated admiral join the Photography Club?"
I shot my mother an accusing look. She just smiled innocently, continuing to arrange the dishes.
"News travels fast," I muttered.
"Are you kidding? As soon as your mom told me, I knew I had to hear this story firsthand." Minako leaned forward, eyes sparkling with the same intensity she used to get when we were kids and she'd discovered a particularly interesting bug to study. "So? Tell me everything. Start with this admiral person."
I sighed, settling onto the couch beside her. "Well, it started at the manga cafe in Udagawa..."
Looking at Minako's eager expression, I couldn't help but wonder what she'd make of everything that had happened today. Knowing her, she'd probably want to create a scientific study of high school social dynamics, with the Photography Club as her primary subject.
Actually, considering how things were going lately, that might not be such a bad idea.