DISCLAIMER: "Video Girl Ai" is © 1989 by Masakazu Katsura. First published in Japan in 1989 by SHUEISHA Inc., Tokyo. This story takes place roughly about the same time as Chapter VII: Confessions Part I. Events are based upon the English adaptation by Yuji Oniki, published in Animerica Extra.

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"Let Them Wonder"

By Jessica Orr

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Sometimes I think I can hear their hearts breaking. I compare it to the sound of crystal shattering, though I’ve never actually seen that done. A woman singing, her voice rising in pitch, reaching a crescendo that makes your eardrums pop. The sound vibrates, dancing off the walls. The goblet shakes slightly on the table, almost turning a circle before a crack appears, then another. It happens before you can blink twice, sending delicate fragments spilling in all directions.

It’s a scenario I’ve never seen done, but one I’ve imagined a thousand times before. Every time a girl comes up to me, clasping her hands to her chest, eyes bright with uncertainty, adoration, and above all, hope. It’s the hope that hurts most of all. Knowing that I’ll pluck it from their fingers, take it in my hands, and squeeze it dry of life and vigor.

Every year it happens. A line of schoolgirls with presents in hand, uncertain smiles on their faces, and tentative hope sparkling in their eyes. I’ve learned never to accept any of them, waving the whole crowd away with a flick of my wrist. They depart, heartbroken, but at least it’s easier than dealing with them one-on-one.

But there’s always the exceptions, aren’t there? Every year, every time, at least one catches me off-guard, presenting me with the gift and all the hope in the world. This time it hurts more than the others do. The one standing in front of me, offering a hastily wrapped bundle, is Moemi.

She’s the girl that my best friend has fallen in love with.

I guess it’s sort of strange saying this, that Yota Muteuchi – nicknamed "Dateless" by all who know, or don’t know, him – is my best friend, but it’s true. He’s a funny little guy, with a mop of black hair and a crooked smile you can’t help but love. He’s mostly another tagalong, but he treats me like an equal. Even after he found out that Moemi cared for me, not him, he never held it against me. He even came to me for advice. He’s a good guy, Yota.

So I turn away from her, shaking my head. "I can’t take it," I tell her quietly, eyes half-closed. "Sorry if I sound old fashioned, but I don’t take gifts from girls with boyfriends." I’ve seen them together. I know that he talks about her constantly, and I’ve seen how often she smiles at him. He deserves her. If I’m wrong, maybe she’ll take the hint.

She stares at me, blushing furiously, trying to figure me out. "What?"

I look back at her, smiling crookedly. "I know what’s going on between you and Yota. I even heard you cut class together."

A few moments pass in silence, marked by the spreading blush across her cheeks. It’s punctuated by a sudden outburst. "That’s not true! Yota’s been nice enough to listen to my problems, but..." She trails off; I look at her knowingly. Flustered, she blurts, "We only went to buy the present!"

I’m lost. I can’t believe what she just said. I stare at her uncomprehendingly for a moment and she winces, backing up a step. "Oops..." Then I fall on to her, my throat growing tight as my voice rises to a yell.

"Listen to you? What problems are you talking about!? You’re not talking about my present, are you!?"

Silence is horrible. She backs away another step, hiding her mouth behind a pale hand. All the while, I’m struggling against the urge to slap some sense into her. Doesn’t she know? Is she so stupid, so incredible dense?

"You’d better not be bothering Yota with your stupid crush on me!" I explode, my fingers curled into fists. "Are you!?"

Tears blur her eyes. "Don’t yell at me!"

It shocks me into silence. A bead of perspiration darts down my brow. As I watch, she bows her head, moistening her lips. "Don’t be mean. After all..." Then she looks up slowly, her eyes glittering with that goddamned hope, barely obscured by her dark brown hair. She hesitates, and I brace myself for what I realize I already know is coming.

"Takashi, I love you!"

I hear the crystal shattering already. But this time it doesn’t belong to a girl whose heart I’ve just broken. It’s Yota’s heart, soft, caring, and so frighteningly fragile, shattering into a thousand different pieces. Swallowing the bile rising in my throat, I offer him a silent apology, wishing to God that he could hear it.

I never liked girls. It’s not that I don’t get along with them; I get along with them fine. But I never was, nor will be, a romantic. I don’t see myself settling down once I’m out of school, with a wife and kids. I want to travel with my band, I want to enjoy life! I guess you can do that with a girl, a wife, but I don’t want to. I guess that sounds strange.

Am I gay? No, I don’t think so. The idea doesn’t freak me out like it does my friends, but I can’t really see myself settling down with a man either. Not because it’s gross or immoral; I just don’t think it’s right for me. I hate romance in any shape or form.

But that doesn’t make me heartless, right? Yota is my friend. He’s heads over heels for this girl, but she’s in love with me. I don’t even like girls! The irony’s sick and cold, and keeps me awake at nights, listening to the tick-tick-tick of my alarm clock. I hate irony even more than I do romance.

My chest feels cold, as if my heart’s been trapped in a cage of ice. Will you forgive me, Yota? I never meant to keep her from you. If things were different, she’s another girl whose heart I have to break. Another crystal ball shattered into a million fragments. I already told her before, she’s not my type. Why does she come back for more? Why does she punish herself like that?

Why doesn’t she notice that you love her?

Maybe I am gay, to think that I worry about you so much. I don’t wonder over my other friends like I do you. Is it gay for a guy to be concerned about another guy? Is this love?

Maybe it is and I’m too blind to see it. But what would being gay mean? My popularity would be ruined. Maybe I’d never have to deal with that damned hope that seems to glitter in the eyes of every girl I meet. Or maybe it would, but the hope would be muted, wistful. A prize they could never hope to achieve. That’s me, hey? The unachievable Takashi! It makes me sound like a UFO catcher doll, the prize at one of those claw games you see at every arcade.

Could I deal with that? I don’t know. What about you, Yota? How could you deal knowing that your best friend, the guy your ladylove is in love with, is gay, let alone is in love with you? Would you hate me then? Maybe I’d deserve it for hurting you so much.

But I don’t think I’m gay. I don’t think I love you, not in that way at least. It’s the wondering that hurts though, not knowing which way I go, what street to take, or even why I’m lost.

It hurts not knowing if I’m even capable of love. I guess I’m tired of being lonely.