Page 105 of Little Miss Fortune

Fuko is also just a girl, standing in Toby’s luxury apartment, asking him to love her

I (Hanako, really) put a lot more effort into my appearance today. Soft makeup, waves in my hair, a dress that looks like a shorter pink version of Juliette’s dress in Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet, which Hanako won in a giveaway at LFW. She didn’t even enter it, as models weren’t technically allowed.

Anyway, she and Dad are moving her to uni today, so I snuck out and broke the terms of my grounding. I am 24, I think Dad will forgive me.

The main point is that I look cute and can definitely bowl in it, as I have done a few lunges at home just to check.

The lift hums at me. This lift always hums. The same Tateyama hum that the monks believed was an entrance to hell. But today it’s louder.

My fingers fidget with the dress.

It’s in your head, Fuko. You’re overthinking this, like you always do.

The doors open.

‘Fuko, what are you doing here?’ Toby asks on Saturday morning with a drawn-out kiss and a tight hug after I barged into his apartment.

His smile is so sincere, and his eyes are bright.

See? Nothing is wrong.

‘Happy birthday!’ I giggle into his mouth, arms wrapped around his neck.

This is good. He is playful in person, receptive to my touch, and even makes me twirl for him.

Toby brings me into another hug, my chin resting on his shoulder.

‘I missed you.’ The words come out of me without much thought once I feel his warm body around me.

‘Missed you too,’ he says, earnestly, his shoulders relaxing with every breath that he doesn’t let go of me.

‘I have a present for you.’

‘It can wait.’ He kisses my neck.

‘No, we have things to do and places to be!’ I pull back, with the vigour and energy of a summer camp leader.

He playfully sulks but does get dressed for a day of fun activities.

‘After you,’ I say, stepping to the side of his corridor.

‘You don’t know how the lift works.’ He squints mischievously. ‘Do you?’

‘Not a Scooby, mate.’

He bursts into a bright laughter. ‘Good, I like to keep my ladies on their toes.’

He does... something? Because the doors open up.

‘How many ladies?’ I ask.

‘Four ladies and about twelve toes.’

‘So, about three toes per lady?’

‘That’s excellent maths. Don’t tell the other ladies, but you are currently my favourite. You can have an extra toe, if you want.’

That’s the Toby. He is still here. He takes me to the park and doesn’t let go of my hand. He tries to peek into the bag with his present. He makes silly jokes about everything under the sun, and he is still the quickest to smile.