Aiko's Diary

"I’m such a cutie, right?" — it flashed through my mind as soon as I tilted my head and pressed my palm to my soft cheek. "And my cheeks, they're so soft... like a doll’s. Nothing like before." I ran my fingers along my cheekbones, feeling the smoothness of my skin, and my lips stretched into a smile on their own. Cute. Too cute. But Frank still doesn't look at me the way I want him to.

The reflection in the mirror blinked, and for a split second, I saw him — Mike. Short hair, angular chin, a look of confusion in his eyes. I jerked away from the counter, grabbing the edge of the sink. My heart was pounding like it was trying to break free from my chest and run back to the reality where I wasn’t... this.

— No-no-no, — I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut. My voice was melodic, with an accent Mike used to mock in Asian girls. — You're Aiko. Aiko Takahashi. You're... an event organizer. You love pudding and… — I bit my lip, trying to remember what I’d written in my new Instagram profile. — And school uniforms. Because they're kawaii.

But inside, beneath this fragile shell, he was still there. Mike Smith. I remember being him just a week ago, remember his ambitions. He wanted to be a Senior Engineer by thirty. Dreamed of his own startup. And now, his fingers, shrunk by two sizes, nervously drummed on the porcelain sink. My fingers. No, his.

— Shit, I’m confused again. — I breathed in sharply, as if the air could mute Mike’s voice whispering from the depths of my consciousness: "You’re losing it. This isn’t normal." But Mike was wrong. What’s not normal is hiding behind a screen for years, wishing someone would look at you not as some transparent spot. And now... now I see. I see him.

My fingers trembled, touching the cloak. Like Yuno's. "You wanted to be loved, Mike?" — I mentally addressed my former self, clutching the fabric. — "Here’s your chance. Even if it smells like madness."

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It all started with the rain. And with the Diary of the Future.

That evening, Mike Smith spent his time hugging a beer and staring at his laptop screen. The rain tapped against the window, and he, a 28-year-old engineer with a constantly stiff neck, got hooked on a scene where Yuno Gasai was hugging Yukiteru — her eyes, full of obsession, seemed... beautiful to him. "Now that's love," he muttered, feeling envy rise in his chest. Deeper than rationality, deeper than fear. He wanted to love like that. And to be loved like that.

And then — a flash. Pain, as if his bones were being ground in a meat grinder. The mirror in the bathroom, which he smashed with his fist, screaming in terror when his skin became smooth, his hair silky, and laughter caught in his throat, high-pitched and ringing. "Aiko. My name is Aiko."

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— Frank... — the name slipped from my lips, sweet as a lollipop. I cracked my eyes open, looking at the reflection: a girl in a uniform, lips lined with pink lipstick, trembling like a leaf. But inside — a storm. "This isn’t normal. You’re losing it. He’ll never love a psycho in a schoolgirl skirt."

— Shut up, — I sharply jabbed my finger at the reflection, making my chest twitch slightly. — Frank-san... he’s just shy. I need to try harder. And I’m not crazy! I’m cute!

I threw the lipstick at the mirror. The glass trembled, and the scarlet trace spread across it, like blood from a cut finger. Drip-drip. Drip by drip, the lipstick flowed into the sink, and I froze, watching the crack spread from the center to the edges, slicing my reflection into two halves. One — Aiko, with her puffed-up lips and wet lashes. The other — Mike, his eyes narrow and harsh, as if saying: "Look at what you’ve become."

— Hee-hee… — a laugh slipped out, thin as the sound of a broken vase. — Just like Yuno-chan, huh? You think you can stop me? — I pressed my palm to the cold glass, feeling the tremor in my fingers merge with my heartbeat.

— I won’t let you. Not you, not… — My voice faltered as Emily’s face flashed in my mind. Emily from accounting. She had laughed today while standing next to him in the café, lightly touching his hand, as if by accident. But I knew better. Nothing’s ever an accident. Especially when it comes to his smiles.

I clenched the sink so hard my knuckles turned white, and laughter bubbled up in my throat — high, nervous, like a cat about to pounce. Emily. Emily with her curly red hair and laughter that cut through the air like a knife. She touched him. His hand. His skin. My Frank.

— Bitch, — I hissed, and my fingers dug into the edge of the sink, leaving red streaks from my fresh manicure on the white porcelain. My mind exploded with images: scissors digging into red curls, gasoline spilled around Emily's house, her screams as I stand in the shadows, holding Frank's hand... But no. No-no-no. That’s too rough. Frank... wouldn’t appreciate it.

I froze, listening to the ticking of the clock on the wall — its rhythm matching the pulse in my temples. You’re smarter than this, Aiko. You’ve got a plan. You’ve thought it all through. A laugh escaped my lips. I know everything about her already. Emily lived in a cute house with a purple door. She had a cat, cacti on her windowsill, and the habit of leaving the bathroom window slightly open. And... she took antidepressants.

— O-ho-ho, Emily-chan... — I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to hold back a laugh that was bursting to get out like a puppy on a leash. — Your little pills, now they’re like candy… colorful and fun! — My finger slid across the screen, opening a folder with photos. There she was, that redhead fool, standing outside the pharmacy. I’d been following her for three days, figuring out her schedule and how she took those meds of hers. Then—just a light nudge in the crowd, her bag dropped, I picked it up, apologized with an accent: “Oh, sorry-sorry!” And I swapped everything in ten seconds. The real antidepressants are now in my purse, next to my lipstick. And in hers… heh… a horse-sized dose of psychedelics. What do you think, Mike, will she cry today, or want to dance on a table?

The phone vibrated, making me jump. Frank-san? My heart skipped a beat, but the screen only showed a reminder: 6:00 PM — location check. I opened the app, scrolling through his routes for the past week. Home → office → gym → café by the park. All the same. But today… today will be different.

— Oh, what a good boy, — I ran my finger across the screen, stopping on a photo of Frank taken through a café window. He was laughing, holding a cup of cappuccino, on which I later drew a little heart with a marker while he was in the bathroom. — You didn’t even notice, huh? Aiko-chan is always around.

As I flipped through the album, I opened the notes app. “Frank Waters” — the title glowed in pink, like a love letter. Inside: his workout schedule, his address, a list of his favorite cafés, screenshots of chats with colleagues. And photos. Lots of photos. There he was drinking coffee, laughing, head thrown back, adjusting his glasses while reading something on his phone… I pressed the screen to my chest, feeling my cheeks burn.

— He’s so… kawaii, — I whispered, dreamily pressing the phone to my chest — Today, today everything will be decided.

I swiped right — event plan. Today's event, "School Nostalgia" style. My idea. Of course. “Everyone wears uniforms, contests, karaoke, dancing...” And also — a raffle: “Random Pair” for dancing in the dark. I’ve already made changes to the program’s code. Randomness? No-no. The algorithm now guarantees that Frank and Aiko will end up together. And Emily… oh, poor thing, will dance with Mr. Bradley from security. By the way, he smells like onions.

But that's not all. At 8:00 PM — “Confession at the Blackboard”. Everyone can confess something they've been hiding. And Emily, under the influence of her “new little pills,” will definitely stand up. Will she tell everyone how she secretly takes antidepressants? Or maybe she’ll cry that she’s in love with her married boss? Who knows what to expect from her. But that’s no longer important. The main thing is Frank will see how crazy she is. And I… I’ll go up to him, trembling in this skirt, and say: “Frank-san, I’m scared…” And he’ll hug me. He will.

— Perfect, — I clicked my tongue, shifting my gaze to my reflection in the mirror. The skirt, the uniform, just need the ribbon in my hair and the knee-highs… Mike would burn with embarrassment. I imagined his shadow writhing inside, shouting: “You’re insane, you psychopath!” But I only smiled.

— You wanted to be loved, — I whispered to the emptiness, — so I’m doing everything like Yuno. Weren’t you in awe of her?

The phone on the counter vibrated, making me jump. A notification from Instagram: Frank liked my photo in the school uniform. My heart jumped, banging against my ribs.

— See? — I pressed the screen to my chest, feeling the warmth spreading through my body. — My boy... — I cooed, kissing the screen. — Soon, you’ll be mine. Forever.

But inside, like a knife, Mike's voice pierced: “He’ll never love you. You’re a monster.”

I shook my head sharply, forcing the whisper to silence. No. I’m cute. And monsters are the ones who steal other people's happiness. Like Emily.

The clock struck seven. Time to get ready. I finished putting on the uniform, tied the ribbon, and lined my eyes to make them look bigger. In the mirror, the perfect schoolgirl stared back. Only the dark circles under my eyes betrayed the sleepless nights spent stalking.

— Today everything will be decided, — I told my reflection, adjusting my skirt. — And if Emily thinks she’ll come up to him... — My hand reached for my purse, where the syringe with the tranquilizer was. Just in case.

An image flashed in my head: Emily, crying on the floor, Frank holding me close, whispering: “You saved me from her.”

— Ahahaha-haa-haa-haa — I laughed a sharp, deafening laugh, pressing my hands to my cheeks and smiling so wide that my cheekbones ached from the strain.