LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

It all began with a phone call.

Just like every other year, the festive Christmas spirit had vanished as soon as the date had passed, and as we counted down the last few days until the new year, for which Haruhi would no doubt have all sorts of plans, I was afforded a few days of peace.

At the time, I had postponed all the house cleaning that needed to be finished before the new year and was instead wrestling with Shamisen in my room.

“Quit struggling! Just hold still; it’ll be over in a second!”

“Meow—”

Ignoring his protests, I held the tiny predator with his newly grown winter coat under my arm.

Ever since he’d turned my favorite denim jacket into scrap, my human-average memory suggested I should take the lesson to heart, and I made sure to regularly trim his claws. Shamisen’s feline-average memory was good enough, however, that he would sprint desperately away whenever he saw me holding the clippers.

Catching him was a terrible hassle, and holding down the scratching, kicking, biting calico while I trimmed each of his claws to a reasonable length meant that by the time I was finished, both of my hands were covered in countless scratches. But flesh wounds would heal, unlike the embroidery on my denim jacket, so I had to stay vigilant. It made me long for the days when he could understand and use human speech. You were so cooperative then, Shamisen—what happened?

But if he started talking again, that was an ill omen of another sort, so perhaps it was better if he just meowed like a normal cat.

Just as I was finishing his right paw and moving on to his left—

“Kyon! Phone for you!”

My younger sister burst into the room, holding the cordless phone. She grinned as she saw the struggle for dignity currently taking place between human and feline.

“Oh, Shami! Are you getting your nails clipped? I’ll do it!”

Shamisen looked away as if to say “No thanks,” sniffing in a very humanlike way. I’d let my sister clip his claws once. I’d held him down while she did the clipping, but an eleven-year-old fifth grader doesn’t have much sense for clipping nails, and she’d cut Shamisen’s to the quick, annoying him enough to put him off his feed. While I was definitely preferable to her, he still fought me every time. I guess a cat’s brain isn’t very big, in the end.

“Who is it?”

I traded the nail clippers for the telephone receiver. Shamisen saw his chance and twisted free, pushing off my knee and dashing out of the room.

Holding the nail clippers happily, my sister answered.

“Um, a boy. I don’t know who he is. But he said he was your friend.”

With that, she ran out into the hallway in pursuit of Shamisen. I looked at the phone.

Who could it be? If it was a boy, that ruled out Haruhi and Asahina, and if it was Koizumi, my sister would’ve recognized him. My other friends, like Taniguchi or Kunikida, would’ve called my cell phone, not my home landline. I punched the talk button on the receiver, muttering that I wasn’t going to fall for any stupid surveys or sales scams.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Kyon! It’s me! Long time no talk!”

I furrowed my brow at the throaty voice.

Who the hell is this? I couldn’t pretend I had any recollection of the voice.

“It’s me, man! We were in the same class in junior high, remember? Did you forget already? I’ve been sighing over you for months!”

Now that was downright creepy.

“Tell me your name,” I said. “Who are you?”

“Nakagawa! Can’t you at least remember the name of a classmate from a year ago? Or what, you go to a different high school and suddenly you don’t care about your old pals? C’mon, man!”

He sounded genuinely wounded.

“No, that’s not it.”

I cracked the lid on my memories and thought back to my third year of junior high. Nakagawa, huh? I did remember him. He was a well-built, broad-shouldered guy—I thought he was in the rugby club or something.

And yet… I looked at the receiver again.

We had only been in class together that one year, and we hadn’t been close. We hung out in different groups in the class. Sure, we’d say “Hey” or “ ’Sup” when we passed in the hallway, but if you wanted to know whether we talked every day, I could tell you for sure that we didn’t. Since graduation, I hadn’t had a single reason to think of his name or face.

I started picking up the claw clippings Shamisen had left behind as I spoke.

“Nakagawa, eh? Yeah, Nakagawa. I guess it has been a while. So, how’ve you been? I hear you went to an all-boys school somewhere, right? So why are you calling me? Are you working for the alumni association or something?”

“No, the alumni group’s headed up by Sudo—he goes to a public high school. But that’s not important. I’ve got something to tell you, okay? So listen. I’m serious.”

So what was so serious about this phone call out of the blue? I couldn’t possibly imagine what he could be getting at.

“Kyon, you gotta hear me out. This is something I can only tell you. You’re my only lifeline here.”

Sounds like a bit of an exaggeration. But what the heck, I thought, let’s hear him out—let’s hear what this estranged former classmate has gone to the trouble of calling me to say.

“It’s love.”

“…”

“I’m serious. It’s killing me. These last few months, it’s all I can think about, whether I’m awake or asleep.”

“…”

“It’s gotten so bad that I can’t do anything else. Well, no, that’s not true. I’ve been throwing myself into schoolwork and club activities, just to distract myself. My grades have gone up, and I’m on the varsity team after just a year.”

“…”

“And it’s all because of love. Do you understand me, Kyon? Do you understand the suffering in my chest? Once I’d looked up your home phone number in the junior high registry, do you know how many times I hesitated to call you? My body’s shaking right now. It’s love. The incredible power of love has forced me to call you. Please understand.”

“Look, Nakagawa…”

I licked my dry lips. A bead of cold sweat dripped down my temple. This was bad.

“… I’m sorry, but your love or whatever is just too… um… all I can say is that I’m sorry. I just can’t return your feelings.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine, if ever one had. I should say right now that I am 100 percent heterosexual. I don’t have a hummingbird’s weight worth of desire to bat for the other team. Both potentially and unconsciously, I am totally straight. I mean, consider this—it warms my whole body to think of Asahina’s face and figure. But when I think of Koizumi, I just want to sock him. Which means I’m not even bi, right? Right?

I spoke into the receiver without a clear idea of whom I wanted to address my thoughts to.

“So, uh, Nakagawa—we can stay friends, but…”

Not that we had ever been friends to begin with.

“… there’s just no way it can be a romantic thing. I’m sorry. Okay? Good luck at that boys’ school you’re going to. I’m just going to enjoy my normal high school life at North High. It’s been good talking to you after so long, though. If we meet at a reunion, don’t worry—I won’t out you. So, see ya—”

“Wait, Kyon.”

Nakagawa sounded suspicious.

“What are you talking about? You’ve got the wrong idea. I’m not in love with you. What the heck are you thinking? Get your mind out of the gutter!”

So what was that “It’s love” thing all about earlier? Whom had those words been meant for?

“I don’t actually know her name. I do know she’s a student at North High, though.”

Although I had no idea what he was going on about, I breathed a sigh of relief. I felt like a foot soldier in a foxhole at the front line of battle who’d just heard news of a treaty being signed. Getting a love confession from a guy was kind of surprising. In my case, anyway.

“Well, then explain yourself better! Who’re you in love with?”

There was a limit to how vague you could be, after all. I was just about ready to put him on my block list.