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The snow outside her apartment drifted across the window, backlit by the streetlight at just the right angle to bathe the room in a soft, pink glow. The sun had just settled below the horizon, and twilight crept up the sky. It was Nozomi’s favorite time of day; the meditative silence of dusk and solitude energized her.
Nozomi sat alone at her kotatsu, the heated blanket pulled snug over her lap, and shuffled the deck of tarot cards sitting in front of her.
It was a deck gifted to her by one of the elder shrine maidens back in Kansai—a beautiful Rider-Waite tarot deck that, at first, didn’t seem to fit quite right in her hands. It took months of study and practice before she felt familiar with the major arcana, let alone the rest of the cards, but as time passed, clumsy fingers and fumbled cards transformed into graceful shuffles and intuitive reads.
The cardstock clicked satisfyingly against the wood as she aligned the cards and cut the deck. She held her palm above them and, for a few moments, let the energy between them melt and settle into something uniquely different from her or a simple stack of paper.
She drew the first card—one to represent her past—and set it down.
The Hermit. A man enshrouded in long, grey drapery, his head bowed as a golden lantern cast a warm glow over his face.
Nozomi smiled. Living alone could be pretty lonely, especially as a third-year in high school trying to carve out an uncertain future, but the Hermit didn’t represent isolation so much as introspection. His lantern illuminated the rough terrain just in front of him, allowing him to draw focus to his next few steps while his destination remained shrouded in mystery.
It was time to draw the second card: the present.
She flipped the next card to reveal the Ten of Cups. The art depicted a family dancing, arms spread open to the sky in a joyous embrace of the rainbow arcing over ten chalices.
Something in her chest twinged. The Ten of Cups represented celebration, harmony, and joy. Truly, she saw herself and her friends in this card, all of μ's aligning to create something special beyond words. In all her life, she’d never been happier than now, making her dreams come true as an idol with her friends.
Nozomi’s hand hovered over the deck as she braced herself to draw for the future. She had so much here and now; who knew where life would take her? All she knew was that the present wouldn’t—and could never—last. It was fleeting, and that’s what made it so beautiful. That’s what terrified her.
She drew her final card. The Two of Cups. Nozomi’s brow furrowed, and her lips parted to draw a quiet breath-
A knock sounded at the door, startling her out of the moment.
Really, there was only one person it could be. The cards sure do have a funny sense of timing.
Nozomi unlocked the door and opened it, her lips quirking as she noticed all the snow matting in Eli’s hair.
“Hello, stranger,” she teased, crossing her arms. “What brings you here?”
Eli rolled her eyes despite her gentle smile.
“I just wanted to check up on you,” she said, and Nozomi ushered her in, taking the cream wool coat that Eli shrugged off her shoulders to hang by the door. As per usual, Eli waited for Nozomi to fill the kettle and set it to boil before sitting down across her at the kotatsu. She wiped her hair clean, the snowmelt darkening streaks of blonde hair she’d pulled into a ponytail.
“It’s awfully late for a visit,” Nozomi said as she settled all the cards back into the deck. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were worried about me.”
Eli sighed. “Am I really that obvious?”
Nozomi propped her chin on her hand, eyes sparkling as she leaned in.
“You’re always obvious,” she said. “To me, at least.”
“It’s just…” Eli cleared her throat. “Well, you know. It’s almost February. We’ll be graduating in March, and I can’t stop thinking about what will happen.”
“What will happen?” Nozomi hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I imagine after we graduate, we’ll wrap up the rest of our extracurriculars. Have you heard of the Love Live? I was hoping we’d get a chance to-”
“Nozomi, be serious!” Eli said, and her tone was so close to pleading that Nozomi had to pause. Eli wasn’t the type to plead. Her eyes shone with wetness, tears that threatened to spill over, and her teeth worried her bottom lip. Ah.
The kettle clicked to indicate the water was ready, but for a moment, the two only sat across from each other in silence.
“Allow me to fetch us some tea,” Nozomi said softly. “And then we’ll talk. Seriously.”
Eli’s nod was almost imperceptible. As Nozomi rose to fetch the kettle, half a dozen thoughts swirled through her mind: Why didn’t she call ahead?; What exactly does Eli want from me?; How much will things truly change?; What is she so afraid of?; Is her fear the same as mine?.
She carried the tray back to the living room, where she set it beside the deck of cards and poured them each a cup of tea.
“It’s chamomile-lavender,” Nozomi said as she prepared Eli’s cup just how she liked it: with just a tiny dash of sugar. “Perfect for relaxing. This should warm you up, too—it’s awfully cold outside.”
“Thank you,” Eli muttered. She took the cup in her hands and held it up to her lips, letting the heat waft over her skin. There was something hypnotic about the way the steam curled over her features, white lashes and flushed cheeks against pale skin. “But no need to worry. It gets far colder in Russia.”
No need to worry. It seemed those words could circle endlessly between them and still never reach their destination.
“Why is it that you can worry about me,” Nozomi asked, “but I can’t worry about you?”
Eli’s fingernails tapped against the ceramic in a familiar beat. She shrugged.
“I suppose you can,” she said. The unspoken words were all-too-clear to Nozomi: “But I don’t want you to.”
Nozomi took a sip of her tea. Hot water scalded the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t flinch.
“How can I put your mind at ease?”
Eli sighed. She pushed the cup away and settled her cheek across folded arms. Her eyes wandered the room aimlessly, first glancing at Nozomi’s hands, then the framed picture of μ's she kept at her bedside—and finally on the tarot deck between them.
“You could read my fortune,” she suggested.
Nozomi blinked.
“Really?”
In all of their friendship, Eli had only allowed Nozomi to read for her once, and it was when they first met after Eli’s move to Japan—Nozomi had pulled the Death card, which terrified Eli, no matter how many times Nozomi tried to explain that it represented transformative change and not literal death, but she digressed.
“Are you sure?” Nozomi asked.
Eli nodded.
“And I promise I won’t run away if you pull Death,” she said, lips tilting up into a nervous smile.
“Cute,” Nozomi cooed. “You think I’d let you run away.”
The tease earned her a scoff and a sweet shade of pink coloring Eli’s cheeks. Worth it.
“So how does it work?”
Nozomi sipped her tea and retrieved the deck, shuffling as she explained:
“Readings are generally drawn in spreads, where each card represents a specific question or theme,” she said. “For instance, a simple three-card spread can represent the Mind, the Body, and the Soul, or a more complex spread such as the ten-card Celtic Cross can be used to reflect on the details of a particular situation. Really, there don’t have to be constraints, and spreads can use as many cards as you’d like.”
Eli was worrying her lip again.
“Seeing as how you’re concerned for the future, though,” Nozomi continued, “let’s stick to something simple. The three-card Past, Present, and Future spread. I was in the middle of reading for myself when you arrived.”
Eli’s forehead smoothed as she lowered her brow. Really, it was entertaining how quickly her expressions could change when she was out of her depth. Normally, Eli was nothing but polished and perfect; Nozomi considered herself the luckiest girl alive to see her like this, uncertain and curious, blue eyes flashing with anticipation.
“Yes,” Eli decided. “Yes, that sounds suitable.”
Suitable. That would do.
Nozomi shuffled the deck one last time and set them in front of Eli, then drew the first card.
The Emperor. A man with a long silver beard sat in an ornate stone throne, wearing a suit of armor, a rich red robe, and holding in each hand an orb and an Ankh.
“That looks like a good card,” Eli breathed with a sigh of relief. Nozomi’s eyes crinkled.
“In tarot, there are very rarely good and bad cards,” she explained. “It’s all about how they fit into a larger context.”
“That sounds like something you’d say to prepare me for a bad card.”
Nozomi breathed a laugh.
“Silly. It’s neither good, nor bad. The Emperor represents regulation and authority. In other words, your past was one constrained by the control of both external and internal influences—rigidity brought you success, but left little room for your own self-expression.”
“Is that really what it means?” Eli frowned. “Or are you just saying that because of what you know about my childhood in Russia?”
Nozomi’s smile was lopsided as she replied.
“Honestly, a bit of both. My cards never lie, but if I have a personal connection to the person I’m reading for, it becomes easier to interpret the meaning.”
Eli’s fingers wrapped tighter around her cup. She took a slow sip of the chamomile-lavender tea, her lips glistening before her tongue darted out to wipe them clean.
“What’s next?”
“Why, the present, of course.” Nozomi held her hand over the deck and drew another card.
The Star. The art depicted a woman kneeling at a pool of water, two cups in hand: one pouring into the water, and the other into the earth. Above her shone a bright star amidst a constellation to illuminate the night.
“The Star,” Nozomi said, expression already softening—it was the same card she’d pulled when she first contemplated joining μ's. How nostalgic!; her deck always read her to filth, even when it wasn’t reading her. Nozomi always tried to limit her own influence when reading for others. When it came to Eli, however… She couldn’t help herself.
“What’s wrong?” Eli asked. “You’re quieter than usual.”
“Nothing!” Nozomi grinned. “She just looks like you, doesn’t she?” Nozomi tapped the card, where the woman’s blonde hair flowed over her shoulders.
“She’s naked,” Eli said, cheeks pinkening again.
“She is. But that’s not the point,” Nozomi said. “Each artistic detail had a purpose. The Star’s nudity, for example, represents vulnerability. She’s allowing the light of the stars above her, which represent hope, to wash over her completely.”
“Naked, vulnerable, and full of hope,” Eli muttered, crossing her arms around her chest. “I don’t know how to feel about that.”
Nozomi rolled her eyes.
“Well, you don’t need to be embarrassed,” she said. “I have a particular fondness for The Star. It tells me that for the first time in a long time, you’re releasing yourself from rigidity and allowing yourself to be vulnerable. That in and of itself is bringing you hope and a renewed sense of purpose. That’s a good thing!”
Eli pursed her lips and tilted her head ever-so-slightly.
“So by opening myself up, I’m finding my purpose.”
“Not just that,” Nozomi said, “but a new sense of purpose. One beyond academic prowess and student council business. This is a new endeavor, one that you’ve been yearning for.”
Despite Eli’s initial claims that being a school idol was silly, it was no secret—Nozomi could tell how much it meant to her. How much confidence and joy came from singing and dancing with her friends, from expressing herself in ways she’d never allowed herself to before.
“What about the future?” Eli asked. “None of that matters if I’m going to lose it.”
There. That worry.
So they were on the same page after all.
“Eli,” Nozomi began, words careful and deliberate. “I owe it to you to tell you that tarot doesn’t truly predict the future. It helps guide us and reflect on what could be. But…”
“What?”
“That isn’t to say that the present doesn’t matter.”
Eli’s expression slowly dropped as she lifted her cup to her face, obscuring her grimace as she took another sip.
“I know,” she said quietly. “But the idea of losing everything we’ve worked for… Everything we have now…” she glanced up to Nozomi. “I resent it.”
“You won’t lose it,” Nozomi said. The words came out before she could process them. How could I say that? I’m not even sure myself. Eli’s expression was stuck somewhere between fear and hope. “I mean,” Nozomi continued, clearing her throat, “you can’t get rid of me that easily.”
Nozomi’s own face felt warm now. Of course Eli wasn’t replying—those sharp eyes of hers bore straight through her soul in a way that no one else’s ever could.
“Let’s read for the future now,” Nozomi finally said, but when her hand hovered over the deck, something felt off.
When spiritual energies were misaligned, it was rarely as easy to explain as right or wrong. It was more like her intuition prickling somewhere in the back of her mind, ebbing away only when she moved in the right direction.
“Okay, something is definitely wrong now,” Eli said. “What is it?”
“I shouldn’t draw this card,” Nozomi said. “This is your future. Not mine. It’s for you to choose.”
She swept the cards in an arc over the table, creating an array for Eli to choose from. Nozomi watched as her lips parted in uncertainty.
“Oh, I don’t know…” she muttered. “How do I know which one to pick?”
“You don’t. You simply gravitate to whatever makes you feel something. But you don’t need to be certain.”
Tentatively, Eli held her hand over the cards. She let it float over the leftmost card, then slowly brought it to the right side. Each second brought more tension to her expression.
“None of it feels right,” she said. “It’s just paper.” Nevertheless, her gaze remained rooted in one spot in the center.
“Perhaps,” Nozomi shrugged. “But I see you watching that card in the middle. Why is that?”
Eli shrank back. “I don’t know. I’m overthinking it.”
“You’re doing great,” Nozomi said, reaching out to place her hand atop Eli’s. She felt her fingers tense beneath her touch, Eli’s hand cool and soft. “I promise. Take a deep breath.”
As she did, Nozomi felt Eli’s hand relax under her palm.
“Let my hand follow yours,” Nozomi said. “You know what to do.”
Ever-so-slowly, Eli reached to lay her hand atop one of the cards in the arc. Nozomi’s hand followed, and when the card was chosen, she flipped it over, handing it to Nozomi. Before she could place it alongside the others, though, Nozomi froze.
The Two of Cups.
Oh, her cards were out to get her tonight.
Suddenly, Eli’s hand was over Nozomi’s instead—the cool touch making her blink and glance back up.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” she asked grimly. “It’s alright. You can tell me if it’s bad.”
Nozomi’s face felt hot. Not bad. But terrifying. Everything was coming together, and Nozomi knew how she felt about Eli—but the thing about Eli was that she could never tell how she felt. She was far too caught up in the pressures of being the perfect student council president, the perfect older sister, the perfect exchange student, the perfect idol.
“The Two of Cups,” Nozomi said, and oh, her voice was shaking a bit, how silly. “It’s a card that represents love, partnership, and mutual attraction.”
The card depicted two individuals facing each other, chalices in hand, exchanging cups as the Cadaceus of Hermes and the head of a lion floated above them to illustrate trade and passion.
“Love?” Eli repeated, her brows pulling together. Her fingers curled a bit over Nozomi’s.
“I pulled the same card for myself earlier,” Nozomi said, trying to keep her voice light and nonchalant. “I suppose we both have love awaiting us after we graduate.”
Eli was quiet. She stared down at the cards, lips set in what could either be a grimace or wonderment. Her hand didn’t move. Nozomi didn’t dare move hers, either—but her fingers almost trembled against the table.
Stupid, Nozomi thought to herself. You’re going to ruin it. She knew how same-sex couples were viewed in Russia. She knew her friendship with Eli was the most important relationship she’d ever had. And she knew that destroying it based on a whim—based on a card reading—would be the greatest regret of her life.
Not just that. It could cost μ's’s success in the Love Live, and in extension, could be the first domino in a chain of events that shut down Otonokizaka High School.
Of course, Eli knew this. She wasn’t stupid, wasn’t so lost in her heart that she would sacrifice her head or those around her—she wasn’t like Nozomi. She was the smartest person Nozomi had ever met. Not just booksmart, but clever, cunning, and experienced enough to carve a path where there wasn’t one before.
“Nozomi,” Eli said, and her voice was so soft. Deep, smooth, like velvet. She would never tell the others, but Nozomi thought she had the best voice in all of μ's. Suddenly, there was a hand on her cheek, a thumb brushing against her skin. “You’re crying.”
“What?” Nozomi’s hands flew back to wipe her face, but Eli’s were already there, catching the tears and grazing soothing touches against her cheekbones. “That’s-”
“Nozomi,” Eli repeated, voice even gentler, cooing in a way that made Nozomi tear up all over again. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”
“I can’t,” she said, voice shaking. Eli actually smiled in response, a sweet little grin that made Nozomi’s chest flutter, made her shoulders sag.
“Then tell me what the cards say.”
Nozomi swallowed.
Right. The cards.
She scrubbed her eyes with her sleeve. At this point in the evening, all the sunlight had melted below the horizon, and the halation of the streetlamp out the window cast shadows around the fluffy bunches of snow still piling on the balcony.
“The Two of Cups is a card that represents love, partnership, and mutual attraction,” she said. She felt another tear slip down her face. Eli’s hand, still soft on her cheek, wiped it away. “This card usually appears when there’s a deep connection between two people. In this case, the card is read for your future, and-”
Nozomi swallowed.
“And?” There was that face again. Pleading, anxious, expectant. Wide-eyed with blonde hair still damp from the snow, drying frizzy and imperfect, a side of Eli that she never wanted anyone to see—anyone but Nozomi.
“This card was drawn,” Nozomi said, “to say I love you.”
Steam swirled from their cups of tea still on the table between them. Eli’s fingers laced into Nozomi’s hair, pulling her forward just enough to feel the wisp of her breath against her nose.
“You know,” Eli said, voice so quiet it almost made Nozomi shiver, “I’m not really the type to believe in magic cards.”
Nozomi froze, watching as Eli twirled a lock of dark hair around her finger.
“I know,” she muttered back.
“But this…” She tilted Nozomi’s chin up, drew her lips closer. “I believe in you.”
“What are you saying?” Nozomi asked, breathless. She knew—of course she knew. But she had to hear it, had to hear the sound of that sweet, low voice muttering the words back.
“I love you, too.”
Finally.
Eli’s lips pressed against hers, and Nozomi melted. The kiss tasted like lavender and chamomile, her lips the faintest bit metallic from all the worrying between her teeth. Nozomi’s tongue darted out to taste more, her tongue still prickling from the scalding hot tea. Eli made a faint, sweet noise, and Nozomi’s hands drifted up to cradle the back of her head, to pull her in closer.
She wouldn’t have it any other way.