Hanamaru was something of a marvel to Ruby. Sunlight always seemed to surround her and bounce off her skin with tenfold radiance. When she yelled, she did it not in anger but in excitement, or delight, or wonder, like the time she'd spied a book that had been out of print for years on a shelf, or when she'd mastered the art of watching cat videos on a smartphone. Both times she had let out a whoop of joy, her fist flying momentarily into the air. So unfettered yet so self-assured. And smiling. Always smiling.

When she wasn't, it brought Ruby up short.

"Let's close it together," Hanamaru said softly, her head bent, tawny hair pooling over her shoulder and covering her face. Her fingers curled in the indent of the flush pull, right against Ruby's.

Yoshiko, stubborn as always, refused. Ruby snuck a glance over her shoulder and couldn't help grinning.

"We'll close it together, zura." Louder, more insistent this time.

"I said no!"

"We'll close it together, zura!"

And there it was, the normally quiet, husky voice taut and laced with hurt, ringing in the emptiness of the school corridors. But it only lasted a moment.

"Sorry," said Hanamaru, and the smile was back without a blemish in sight. Ruby returned it, but her heart ached all the same.

Ruby blinked hard, the pages on the tatami floor in front of her sharpening into focus. Rough pencil sketches filled the white space, embellished with splashes of bold colour here and there as inspiration surged down her arm and into her fingertips. She'd been swept up in an inexplicable artistic fever lately—there were drawings of wallets, pouches too small to be functional, ridiculously flamboyant hairpieces she was sure no one but Yoshiko would even consider wearing unironically. But concentration was evading her.

"Hey, you know what, that would look amazing on Yoshiko-chan," Hanamaru piped up, shuffling on her stomach to get a closer look at a feathered monstrosity complete with superfluous gauze. "If you added more black and purple she'd trip over her feet begging for it to be made."

Ruby giggled. "Right you are," she said, reaching over to the coloured pencils strewn in a messy configuration around them and fishing out the necessary colours. With a few broad strokes she gave the design a full gothic makeover. "How's that?"

"Perfect, zura," was Hanamaru's enthused judgement.

Ruby sucked on the end of her pencil. "Hanamaru-chan . . ."

"Hm?"

"I was just thinking about . . ." she hesitated, not entirely sure why she was bringing it up, "about the library."

"The library?" Hanamaru said, flicking absently through the drawings. "I was just there. That new novel hasn't arrived and I may combust if I have to wait any longer." Her tone was playful, cheerily jesting, as was often the case no matter what the world threw at her. Ruby felt almost guilty for turning the conversation in a less than pleasant direction.

"Oh, I meant—I meant the school library."

Hanamaru looked up, a light crease between her eyebrows.

"I just," Ruby brought the tips of her index fingers together and fidgeted uncertainly, "I guess I didn't realise how much that place meant to you."

Hanamaru's face cleared with the realisation of what Ruby was getting at. "Oh, Ruby-chan, I'm not angry. I never was." An embarrassed smile flickered over her round features. "Sorry I overreacted."

"No, I know you weren't—Hanamaru-chan, stop being sorry!" Any remnant of the mature concern Ruby had hoped to project was abandoned as the last part burst out in an involuntary squeal.

Hanamaru blinked, bewildered. "But—"

"You're always like this." Ruby rolled onto her back and sat up. "Always belittling yourself for others. It's because of you that I ever became a school idol in the first place."

"And I only did it because of you," Hanamaru countered, an amused half-smile gracing her lips.

"You're always too selfless—"

"Hey, that was my line. Did you just steal it?"

Ruby was on her feet now, her mouth puckered up, hands braced on her hips.

Slowly, as if she hadn't quite figured out what she was in for, Hanamaru raised herself into a sitting position, legs tucked under her.

"You're more selfless than me, Hanamaru-chan—"

"No, you are—"

"No I'm not—"

"Yes you are, zura!"

Ruby huffed, trying to keep a straight face despite the ludicrousness of the disagreement, and turned to rummage in the chest of drawers at the corner of the room. "Look!" she announced, emerging with a thick spiral-bound, glitter-coated notebook clutched in her hand. (She had gone through a glitter phase years ago. It wasn't something she looked back on with pride considering the sticky mess that had haunted her fingers for several months.)

Hanamaru's mouth was open. "Ruby-chan, that's your diary, what are you—"

"I'm proving a point," Ruby said. She opened the tome, trying to avoid the worst of the glitter by dangling the binding between her fingers, until the spindly plastic slipped out of her grasp and she was forced to bat the thing into the air several times with her other hand to keep it from falling. Her eyes raked over dates and ink stains, fastening on one particular entry. She began to read aloud.

I met a lovely brown-haired girl in the library today. Her name is Hanamaru Kunikida. She smiled at me, the biggest, most generous smile I've ever received from a stranger. Even though I was hiding behind my magazine and being silly. She didn't judge me at all.

"That—That's your private—I don't want to intrude—" Coherent thought seemed to have deserted Hanamaru. She was wide-eyed, scrambling across the room in an attempt to reach the diary and slam it shut, but Ruby dodged her flailing arms and retreated into the opposite corner.

Hanamaru-chan gets teased for being a bookworm sometimes. It's really unfair. I don't know what came over me, but I shouted at some kids. I just wanted them to see how great a person she is.

"That serves my side of the argument better than it does yours," Hanamaru panted, making a futile swipe at the notebook.

"No, this next bit, you'll see—"

I got so upset I started crying. Aren't I hopeless? I wanted to stand up for her but I know she doesn't need anyone to do that. She doesn't let a few nasty insults get to her head. Unlike me. She was the one who was supposed to need comforting, but she turned around and comforted me. Hugged me. Thanked me.

A dozen coloured pencils went flying with a clatter. Hanamaru skidded over a loose page, almost losing her footing and ramming into the wall. "Of course I did! What sort of person would I be to not—that was an incredibly brave thing you did."

Ruby raised her voice, not missing a beat even as Hanamaru chased her around the room.

I had to do a speech today. Those are the worst. I couldn't stop stumbling over my words and dropped my palm cards. Scattered them all across the floorboards. Of course I ran out of the classroom in shame.

Hanamaru-chan was supposed to go next. But she leapt up and went after me without a second thought and got into trouble. The teacher had a few stern words with her later, in front of the whole class, and she bore them with her usual grace. She didn't tell me that, of course. I heard some of the others talking about it and just . . . felt really awful. At least the teachers all like her though. None of them could stay mad at her for long.

But our Japanese teacher had no reason to be mad in the first place. So when she gave me the talking-to, I gritted my teeth and didn't cry. Because Hanamaru-chan wouldn't have, no matter how unfair and undeserved the scolding was.

By now Hanamaru had either given up on snatching the diary or was too winded to keep trying. "Okay, I'm touched that you wrote so many nice things about me. I really am. Thank you."

"I just wrote them because they're true."

"But," Hanamaru punctuated the objection with a finger stabbed in front of Ruby's face, "don't you think it's cheating to have this conversation in your room? If I had my diary—in fact, who needs a diary when I can just list all the times you've been kind to me, or encouraged me, or defended me? It's not like either of us has forgotten—"

"It's a moot point, Hanamaru-chan." Ruby shook her head. "You are the more selfless one."

"No, you are—"

"No, you are—"

"You are, zura!"

"YOU ARE!"

The door to Ruby's room slid open with a bang. "Would you two please kindly shut up!" A fuming Dia stood in the hall, glowering down at them. "You're both too selfless for your own good, now go to bed."

"Sorry, sis," said Ruby meekly.

"Wait," said Hanamaru, and Dia paused on her way out. "What about you, Dia-chan? You're selfless—"

Dia growled like a feral animal and vacated the corridor faster than Ruby had ever seen her move. Ruby and Hanamaru exchanged glances full of barely contained mirth, and the sight of Hanamaru sucking in her bottom lip, cheeks puffed up as if she'd been caught sneaking cookies, tipped Ruby over the edge. They both laughed until no more high-pitched choking noises could be wrung out of them.

"What were we talking about again?" Hanamaru wheezed, sprawled lifeless on the floor.

Ruby was in a similar position, only face-down, her nose pressed into the tatami, inhaling its woody scent. "Don't know. The library?"

"Right. Yeah look, it's just a room in a building. It's not a big deal."

Ruby opened her eyes and turned her head to the side, her cheek squished against the floor. "That's what I thought too. But it's more than that, isn't it?"

"No, it's—"

"Isn't it?" Ruby insisted.

Hanamaru's lips parted, her mouth working, conflict washing over her upturned face. Ruby knew why. Her best friend had spent long hours in that humble sanctuary, barely larger than a single classroom, whiling away the lacklustre days, forgetting the melancholy that sometimes settled over her. It had felt so right, she'd confessed once, from the moment she walked in—some place she had known forever but had never set foot in. Exciting and new and somehow so familiar. It had been blissfully cool while the oppressive summer air dripped and sizzled outside, had been a soft shawl of warmth in the chill of winter. Public libraries offered a far wider selection of scrumptious titles for her eager consumption, but Uranohoshi's literary corner boasted homegrown gems you couldn't find anywhere else, anthologies of poetry written in an unpolished hand, the work of students who had so many stories to tell. Hanamaru had handled them with meticulous care, these precious glimpses into high school lives of years past. She'd been fascinated by their tales, speculating about the people these girls had grown into since, where their paths had led them. Ruby had seen her sometimes, head tipped to the side, chin braced against her hand, that serene smile telling Ruby all was well with the universe. On occasion they'd sat and flipped through the collections together. It never bothered them that no one else cared about the books, stuffed forgotten into a corner. Not entirely forgotten.

"We all made the school home in some way or other, I think, however temporarily," Hanamaru said. "But anyone who hasn't been there wouldn't know it."

"Mm." Ruby stowed her diary safely back in the drawer and went to sit by Hanamaru on the futon. It was true. Time wasn't a definitive measure of value. How could you explain that the stark rooftop represented hope and tears and joy all bundled into one, or that a dent in a wall catapulted you into giggles because it reminded you of the time you slammed a table into said wall trying to shield yourself from a harmless pigeon, and Hanamaru gave you the remaining two thirds of the candy bar she'd almost choked on watching the incident happen before racing down to the canteen to get another dozen to distract you from your embarrassment? Uchiura wasn't Tokyo, where life whizzed along in a flurry of garish lights and noise, and schools were simply impartial building blocks on the way to success. Uranohoshi was inseparable from the sea and the sunset and lanterns drifting into the night sky, and the people who branded their names in the sand. Even if the waves always came and coaxed the letters from the shore.

"It's been fun, hasn't it, zura?"

"Yeah."

Ruby's arms went around Hanamaru with a boldness and surety that surprised both of them, squeezing the other girl close.

"Ruby-chan?"

"I never want you to be hurt or lonely again," said Ruby, voice muffled against the starched fabric of Hanamaru's uniform. "But life isn't fair, so I'll settle with fighting everyone and everything that gets in your way. I may be useless and scared, but I'll do it. Because you've been doing it for me since the day I met you. You don't have to be strong and kind and patient all the time."

She heard a sniffle, and Hanamaru was hugging her back, and it was crushing and wild and there were bones digging into shoulders and Ruby's sleeve was stretched tight and cutting into her arm, but it was the best hug she'd ever experienced because she wasn't being protected this time, wasn't the teary little girl slobbering onto her best friend's clothes, cowering and weak. It felt good. She felt powerful, needed.

Hanamaru released her and they looked at each other, the brief silence rich and golden as spreading honey. Hanamaru's expression somehow managed to be placid and motherly even under the messy tears smeared on her cheeks and her adorably ruffled hair. It was a little infuriating. "You already do it, Ruby-chan. Don't you realise that?"

"Well, you don't seem to realise it about yourself."

"Please throw your diary away so we never have to speak of this who's-nicer-than-who business again."

"No way."

"At least do it to save yourself from glitter poisoning."

"That," Ruby admitted, "is a good point. But I would never. Ever."

Hanamaru reached out a hand, and in an almost subconscious, tender action smoothed Ruby's hair back from her face.

Maybe some things between them would never change.

So this is what happens when I'm thoroughly dissatisfied with a show's ending I guess? Just wanted to flesh out some things and also shower infinite amounts of love upon my best girl on her birthday because she deserves the world