She arrived in the spring, on the back of a moving truck and in a swirl of flowery French vowels no one in the neighborhood could understand. Furina de Fontaine, age six, dressed like a doll and acting like a queen.

The first time you met her, she was standing in the middle of the local playground sandbox, issuing commands to an unimpressed group of neighborhood kids. She pointed at you like you were a footman late for duty.

"You. You there, yes, you! Why are you just standing? I require a moat around my castle!"

You didn't know what a moat was. But you knew she looked like she might cry if everyone kept ignoring her, so you grabbed a plastic shovel and helped dig around her lopsided sand tower.

She didn't thank you. Of course not.

She huffed. Turned her nose up and said, "Hmph. I suppose that's acceptable, boy." But she sat next to you, and the next day, she was waiting with her own shovel. A sparkly pink one.

From then on, you were stuck with her.

She insisted on walking beside you to school, always one step ahead. She claimed it was coincidence. She demanded you carry her backpack once when she "sprained her wrist" (she didn't). She'd get mad if you didn't sit next to her at lunch, and even madder if you did and talked to someone else too much.

She called you idiot more than your actual name.

But every time someone picked on you, she'd appear out of nowhere, arms crossed, ready to unleash fiery wrath in perfect Japanese with a bizarre French accent.

It should've been a mistake. Some sort of clerical error that had Furina de Fontaine and you, childhood frenemies and unofficial rivals, living in the same shared dorm unit for your final year.

Except her parents signed off immediately. So did yours, actually.

When you questioned it, her mother just smiled and said, "Oh là là, maybe this year she'll finally admit it to him~" and winked. Which was terrifying.

You don't even get a word in before Furina explodes.

"What?! This is clearly a breach of basic human dignity! You expect a delicate young lady such as myself to cohabitate with..." —she throws her arm dramatically in your direction, "...him?!"

Despite her flustered protests, she settles in quickly. Sometimes even, calling this space home.

She hogs half the desk with her makeup and hairbrushes, claims the mirror as her own, and yells at you to knock, even though it's just one room.

At school, she's the same: loud, theatrical, and allergic to sincerity. She pretends to be annoyed when you walk her to class but always waits just long enough for you to catch up. When you bring her melon soda after club activities, she snatches it from your hands like you've just passed her a time bomb. "I—I didn't ask for this! But fine. I shall accept your tribute."

The day had settled into that golden hour where everything looked like it belonged in a dream. The sky was brushed in orange and pink, soft clouds drifting lazily overhead. The cicadas had finally quieted down for the year, replaced by the gentle whisper of wind against tall grass in the empty field beside the long road home.

You walked beside her, in her school uniform with the sleeves rolled just enough to look stylish, the navy bow a little off-center because she tied it too fast this morning. She wore her usual pout like armor, but her steps had slowed, unusually quiet.

She kept glancing sideways, as if trying to find something to be annoyed about. Nothing was cooperating.

"Hmph," she muttered, scuffing a rock with the toe of her shoe. "Why are you so quiet? This is boring. Say something idiotic so I can insult you."

"It's not like I wanted to walk home with you or anything," she added quickly, fingers fidgeting with the strap of her bag. "You just kept following me like some weird lost dog. Honestly."

More silence. You walked a little closer. Close enough that your shoulders nearly touched.

She swallowed, eyes fixed on the glowing horizon. "You... You've really grown into your face, you know. Not that I care. But girls talk. Loudly. And they're all complete fools for you lately."

She kicked a rock off the path, huffing.

"And maybe it's just... frustrating. Because I knew you first, and I always sat next to you, even when you drooled on your notebook in middle school and smelled like... gym socks."

Still no response from you. Just the sound of your quiet breathing beside her.

Furina's steps slowed, then stopped. She stood there, arms still crossed, the last rays of sunlight casting soft fire across her cheeks.

"...Fine," she muttered, barely audible over the breeze. "If you must know... I... I like you, alright?!"

She turned to you, chin raised defiantly, like it physically pained her to say it.

"I like you. As in like like. And not because I'm bored, or because you're mildly tolerable, or because you're the only one who can keep up with my brilliance, which, by the way, is true, but that's not the point!"

She pointed at you, flustered, voice rising.

"So if you reject me now, I swear I will push you into that rice paddy and never speak to you again!"