Didn’t even say goodbye. Clearly, her interest was in the letters I’d write, not the flesh-and-blood me. As soon as I’d transferred to my new school, her letter came right away. “More than anything, I think we should know more about each other,” she wrote. “So first, let’s introduce ourselves.” It was a bizarre thing - separated ex-classmates only now introducing themselves. But it wasn’t as if there was anything else to write about, so I went along with the suggestion. After some time being penpals with Kiriko, I made a discovery. We’d never properly spoken before I changed schools, but going off what she wrote in her letters, Kiriko Hizumi seemed to have strikingly similar values to my own. “Why do I have to study?” “Why is it wrong to kill people?” “What is “talent”?” Early in our teaching, we both enjoyed rethinking everything from the basics like that in an attempt to give adults pause. We also had an embarrassingly serious discussion about “love,” which went as follows. “Mizuho, what do you think about this “love” thing? My friends talk about it from time to time, but I still don’t really understand what it means.” “I don’t understand either. In Christianity, the single word “love” can mean four different kinds of love, and there are multiple loves in one in other religions as well, so it seems hopeless to even try. For example, what my mom feels for Ry Cooder is definitely love, but what dad feels for Alden cordovans is also love, and there’s a kind of love in me sending letters to you, Kiriko. It’s a really diverse thing.” “Thank you for that casual remark that made me very happy. What you said made me realize that maybe the love I’m talking about and the love my friends are talking about have different definitions entirely. Maybe I should be wary of those girls talking so lightly of it. What I’m talking about is a more emotional, romantic love. That “thing” often seen in movies and books, but