At an elementary school across town, a bell rang, and a beautiful young woman dressed in shades of purple, stepped onto the playground to call her first-year students inside. “Playtime is over! Come on, time to come in!” she announced with a smile on her face. Makoto Kino—or Miss Kino as she more often went by now—marveled at the little ones as they filed back into the school for their afternoon lesson.

  Makoto was new to teaching but so far, was loving the job. As the last of the children entered the school, the statuesque woman swept her flowing, voluminous brown curls over her shoulder, the sides of which, were held back by her favorite green hair tie, revealing a pretty set of rose-shaped earrings.

  “Good afternoon, everybody,” she said upon returning to her classroom.

  “Good-af-ter-noon, Miss Ki-no,” the children replied in a well-rehearsed monotone, which had always made Makoto giggle.

  The rest of the children’s day was spent making artwork using potatoes to stamp various shapes in paint, then finishing with a story. As they said goodbye to their teacher, two of them gifted her shiny red apples, which she gratefully received before sending them on their way. Once the classroom emptied, an adult appeared in the doorway.

  “Good-af-ter-noon, Miss Ki-no,” said the rather attractive man in a mocking tone. He was tall, with striking, hazel eyes, and medium-length black hair, which was parted evenly.

  “Oh, it’s you, Mr. Mori,” said Makoto with feigned surprise.

  “‘Mr. Mori?’ You can call me Ren when the kids aren’t around, you know,” he suggested.

  Makoto began packing up her bag while the overly familiar, chatty teacher from the adjacent classroom spoke. Then, upon noticing Makoto open her desk drawer to drop in the two apples she had received, he exclaimed, “Whoa! Are you growing an orchard in there?”

  Her entire top drawer appeared to be full of apples. “Don’t your students give you apples?” she asked.

  “It's been known to happen, but with the amount you've got, we could have painted with apples today and saved the school a couple of bucks on potatoes. I guess your lot must really love you! Not that I can blame them…” he stated flirtatiously. Makoto rolled her eyes as he continued. “Speaking of painting, it doesn’t look bad in here. You should see the mess my class left me! Maybe you’d like to help me clean up?”

  “As fun as that sounds, you’ll have to manage on your own, I’m afraid,” she answered jovially.

  “I think I’ll leave it for the morning. Fancy going for a drink?”

  “It’s three o’clock in the afternoon!”

  “On Saturday, then? Make it dinner. I know this great little place. How about it?” he asked hopefully. “You’ve been here almost three months now and I feel like I barely know you.”

  Makoto blushed ever so slightly before hoisting her packed bag over her shoulder, smiling kindly and saying, “Sorry. I’m busy. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Mori.”

  “Okay. See you tomorrow, Makoto,” Ren sighed dramatically, grinning as she passed him and headed out the door, then called after her, “I’m not giving up, though!”

  Makoto waved coolly without looking back. She felt mildly guilty for spurning Ren’s advances. He was handsome, sensitive, intelligent, funny—everything she could have hoped for in a suitor—but she really was busy. Too busy for a love life, or friends for that matter. Between the demands of her job and all the extra cooking she had become accustomed to, she preferred to spend what little free time she did have alone. That was what she told herself anyway.

  After a quick stop for ingredients at her local store, where she had to turn down another offer of a date, this time from the greengrocer she had become friendly with, Makoto arrived at her apartment.

  “I’m home,” she announced.

  “How was your day, Makoto?” asked a black cat with an odd, crescent-shaped mark on its forehead.

  “Good, Luna, and yours?” Makoto responded as if conversing with a talking cat was a natural occurrence.

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  “Not bad. I suppose,” said Luna gloomily.

  Makoto, however, didn’t seem to notice Luna’s tone, or else, chose to ignore it and unpacked her shopping bags in the kitchen. She began to pull large pots and pans out of the cabinets and started preparing a meal that would surely be too much for just one person. An hour later, the apartment was full of delicious smells, and Makoto began serving up a bowl of beef and vegetable stew for herself. The rest of the food was separated into four sealable plastic containers, including an extra-large-sized one.

  She poured out some cat food for Luna, then ate her dinner while watching one of her favorite television programs—a popular baking competition. It was a fun show, but Makoto couldn’t help getting annoyed when the contestants made obvious mistakes. Once done with her meal and her show, she returned to the kitchen and started loading the containers of leftovers into carrier bags.

  Makoto took a deep breath before saying, “Right, Luna, I’m off!”

  Luna appeared in the kitchen looking concerned. “Can’t you stay home tonight, Makoto?” she asked hesitantly. “I’m worried about you, it’s not healthy to dwell—”

  “Luna!” Makoto barked suddenly, her pleasant face now stern. “We’ve had this conversation before. You’re welcome to stay here, but not if you insist on bringing up the past!”

  “Of course. I apologize,” Luna replied sheepishly with her tail between her legs. “I’ll see you later.”

  Makoto left the apartment without another word, her arms full of the bagged containers. She had several stops to make, and they were scattered all over town, but she had long since become accustomed to her bi-weekly deliveries. As such, she had figured out a routine that saved time, but the round trip still took about two hours by car.

  She would start at her old friend, Minako’s apartment. Minako was rarely home but she knew to leave her previously used container outside the door for Makoto to collect and replace with the new one. Then, Makoto would do the same at Mamoru Chiba’s place.

  He was usually home in the evenings, but after he had asked Makoto to stop including him on her delivery route, she thought leaving the food containers at the door was a good compromise, and he had learned to leave the empty ones out as Minako did. That way, she knew he was getting the occasional good meal, and there was no awkwardness to contend with for either of them.

  Next, was the Tsukino’s house, where Makoto dropped off her larger container, which had enough for the whole family. Here, she was greeted warmly by Mrs. Tsukino, who always took the food gratefully and politely, but with an unmistakable sadness in her eyes. Lately, Makoto had been wondering whether her continued presence was making things difficult for them, but cooking was all she could think of doing to help.

  Makoto’s last stop of the night before finally heading home was the hospital. She had learned to park her car a couple of streets away to avoid the hospital car park’s exorbitant charges. She collected her last bagged container and began the short walk, the clicking of her heels on the concrete and the sloshing of her stew, the only sounds to be heard in town at this time of night. Suddenly, though, the peaceful silence was interrupted.

  “Give me your money!” an angry voice demanded. “Your jewelry, too!”

  Makoto had come upon an alleyway where a large man was accosting a young woman.

  “Please! Please don’t hurt me!” the woman cried upon seeing the man draw a knife.

  Makoto watched in disbelief for a few moments before scanning her surroundings. There was nobody around, nobody that could help. Nobody that was, except for her. Makoto clenched her fist in frustration. She knew she had to do something. She knew she could do something. However, as the reality of the situation sunk in and the stark possibility of what could happen surfaced in her mind, Makoto started to panic.

  Her heart began to race, her ears began to ring, her body began to shake, and dark memories began to invade her thoughts. Somebody needed to help this woman—but it didn’t need to be her. Makoto regained her composure, refocused her mind, and against all her natural instincts, walked past the alleyway quickly and determinedly.

  She continued toward the hospital with the sound of screams filling her ears, praying that she had not just made a gigantic mistake. Thankfully, relief came when she heard heavy footsteps disappearing behind her and a woman yelling, “Help! Somebody help! Thief! Stop that man!”

  Makoto arrived at the hospital a little shaken but happy to have the incident behind her. She took the elevator up to the long-term care ward and checked in with the nurse on call.

  “Good evening, Makoto. How are you?” a short, older nurse asked kindly.

  “I’m good, thanks, Niko. How’s our patient?” Makoto replied.

  “Same as usual, I’m afraid.”

  “Did she eat?”

  “No, dear, and I don’t think you should trouble yourself. The food just goes to waste,” said the nurse sympathetically, returning a cleaned container from behind her desk.

  “I know, but I have it to spare, and I want to make sure that when she feels up to it, she has a good meal to look forward to,” Makoto justified, placing the last full container of stew on the desk. “Can I see her?”

  “Of course, go ahead.”

  Makoto walked down the right-hand corridor, stopping at the fourth room on the right. She knocked and entered the patient’s room, but there was no recognition in the face of the young woman lying in the bed. Her sunken eyes were fixed and staring at the ceiling. She was thin—too thin—and her once beautiful, long raven-black hair had been cut short and haphazardly. She looked almost feral.

  Makoto sat in the chair by the bed and took one of the patient’s restrained hands in her own. A single tear escaped her as she whispered pleadingly to her unresponsive friend, “Oh, Rei… Please come back to us!”

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