Promptober 2026 Day 2: Butterflies
Taki thought about the question for a long time before she gave her answer.
It had originally come from one of the magazines that Anon seemed to have on rotation. One week, it was Popteen; the next, SEVENTEEN, then Junon, and by that time another issue of Popteen would probably be out.
Ridiculous, of course. Vapid. Downright juvenile. Personality tests? Quizzes? They were in high school, they weren’t children. Taki could never understand what intrigued Anon about all of that. She may as well have been reading about blocks and toy cars, for all that it interested Taki.
Taki was practically an adult. Taki had a job.
“Rikkiiiiii– hey, Rikki! C’mere!”
That was how it had begun: The reedy half-whine of Anon’s voice calling her over to the countertop where the other three of them were sitting. Raana, her feet swinging amiably about a foot off the floor, gave her an enigmatic smile. Soyo did not look up from her phone. Tomori’s parents had taken her to Gifu to visit relatives.
“What is it? I’m working.”
“And I’m a customer.”
“Okay. Whaddya want?”
“Oh my god, you are so rude.” Anon screwed up her face, the very picture of offense. “Does Ririko-san know you’re this awful to paying customers? Isn't she worried it’s going to scare people off?”
“There’s nobody else here,” Taki said, inviting Anon to look around with a flick of her hand. She was right: Apart from the four of them, the cafe was empty, and it was not difficult to see why. Outside of the livehouse cafe door, the clouds mounted in the sky of the winter evening like an army of black-clad soldiers at the foot of a castle wall. The siege would break before midnight; by morning, the forecast had the entire city of Tokyo beneath at least eight inches of snow.
“...hey, you’re right. It’s kinda creepy, huh?”
“Not really.” Today was not the day that Taki would overcome her knee-jerk compulsion to contradict Anon whenever possible. “What did you need me for?”
Grinning, Anon lifted her magazine in one hand and a pencil in the other. “Quiz.”
“Make Soyo do it.”
Without moving her head, Soyo’s gaze slid upward to make brief, stony contact with Taki’s.
“...Raana, take Anon’s quiz.” Taki hurriedly busied herself with a dish towel and a glass.
“Boring,” Raana intoned.
“See? Rikkiiiiii… they hate me!”
A long-suffering but utterly indulgent sigh escaped Taki’s lips. “...fine.”
Anon positively squealed with delight and flipped her magazine open. “Okay, okay - you have to answer honestly, okay?”
“Obviously.”
“How many characters in your name?”
“Four.”
“What’s the first radical in your surname?”
“Um… it’s spine, so… ‘tree’.”
“Blood type?”
“O negative.”
“What’s your– wait, really? O negative?” Anon looked up in surprise. “That’s pretty rare, you know. You’re a universal donor.”
“Yeah.”
“Isn’t that kind of ironic?”
Taki’s brow creased. “Why’s that?”
“Well, I mean, you’re so…” Anon trailed off. “U…um, anyway - what’s your star sign?”
“...Leo.”
“Favorite meal?”
“Favorite meal?”
“Yeah, you know. Breakfast, lunch, dinner.”
Taki shook her head. “I don’t know. Do other people have a favorite meal?”
“Well… yeah! Mine is breakfast. In London, they have something called the ‘full English,’ and it's soo much food - but it's all so delicious! It's eggs, and toast, bacon and sausage, a slice of tomato…”
Anon expounded on the pleasure of a full English breakfast for several minutes, during which time the thought occurred to Taki that her favorite meal would be the one that she didn't have to think about even half as much as this.
“You convinced me,” she finally said, interrupting Anon saying something glowing about baked beans that Taki had not been listening to. “Breakfast.”
Anon beamed. The questions continued in this vein for some time.
Every third or fourth answer, Anon nodded and made a little noise of satisfaction - a smug little hmm!, as though she had expected the exact response Taki had given. Then, after a few minutes, they came to the question that was currently warranting such thoughtful consideration.
“What’s the most important thing you want to do before you die?”
It was not the first time that Taki had asked herself this question.
For a while, she had filled the space where her answer would go with the trumpet. Then, the drums.
Then, one day, her.
Then, Ableton and sound mixing and music theory and composition, 1-6-2-5, 2-5-1, Dorian, Ionian, Lydian, Mixolydian. Tension and resolution and extensions. Effects pedals and post-production.
Then, one day, her again…but this time, not just her.
Was that correct?
Was it right?
She had never thought about it before now. For a long time, the thought of continuing to live hung entirely on the feeling that sprang into her chest when she read Tomori’s lyrics. When she heard Tomori sing. When she was walking across the bridge and their hands briefly, terrifyingly brushed against each other.
But - was that all?
Was there nobody else for whom she was living now?
Absentmindedly, Taki set her towel down on the countertop. There must have been something a little scary in her eyes, because color had leapt to Anon's cheeks, and she had begun to stammer.
“Of course, y-you don’t really need to answer that one, if it’s private–”
“Mexico,” Taki said.
“...huh? Mexico?”
“Every autumn in Mexico, the Monarch butterflies migrate south from America. They all go together. Millions and millions of them. They’re everywhere. All the trees, all the flowers, the fields, the buildings - bright orange and yellow.”
Anon stared, momentarily stunned by Taki's tone of utter sincerity. Taki returned the look impassively. Then, at the same time, a small smile cracked both of their lips.
“Cool,” Anon said.
“Yeah. It sounds cool.”
“It sounds beautiful. I wanna see it too.”
“Alright,” Taki said, still smiling. “We’ll go together.”