Disclaimer: I do not own The Girl Who Leapt Through Time. Otherwise, I wouldn't be indulging my fangirlish fantasies, now, would I?

x: twenty-three

Foreign Language

“Chiaki! You didn't tell us you got cellphone,” Makoto crowed, seizing the rectangular, red item from his side pocket.

Chiaki rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat in distress. “Well, I didn't think it was important.”

“Now that you have one, we should exchange numbers.” Makoto nodded, as if adhering to strict protocol.

“Ummm.”

Makoto returned the compact device into Chiaki's palm; he stared down at it as if it were completely alien to him.

“You've never done this before, have you?” Kousuke inquired dryly.

“No,” came the admission.

“Where did you say you were from?”

Chiaki pivoted the cellphone, suddenly captivated by the apparatus. “So, what do I do?”

“Hold it still,” Makoto murmured, grabbing Chiaki's wrist, then letting go.

There was a small beep. Chiaki blinked in astonishment. “Whoa, that's insane!” Makoto and Kousuke chuckled at his childish amazement.

“Now you have our numbers. Call us anytime, alright?”

Chiaki beamed at them, certain he would take them up on the invitation.

A/N: Yes, I am jealous of the infrared ports on Japanese cell phones. Makes things so simple. :) Thank you for reading. And I don't say this enough, but thank you for all the lovely support. Have a splendid day.