The Hunter Jiyu knew was the kind of person who would rather sprint through the rain at full speed than share a small umbrella with someone else.
He had always been like that.
Yet today, for some reason, he had walked at a deliberately leisurely pace even as the rain soaked him through.
‘Was he waiting so we could walk together?’
She opened her mouth to ask, then closed it again.
‘No. There’s no way.’
If she asked, he would obviously only mock her. Jiyu searched desperately for a safer subject.
Fortunately, unlike when they were younger, Hunter no longer snapped at her to hurry up whenever she took more than a few seconds to answer. Thanks to that, she eventually managed to think of a suitably neutral topic.
“Are you going to the Spring Fling too?”
“Spring Fling?”
He raised one eyebrow.
The “Spring Fling” was a regular dance held for students from Manhattan’s private all-girls and all-boys schools. The spring dance was called Spring Fling, while the autumn event was known as Fall Fest.
Tickets to the parties, which were held in the ballroom of a five-star hotel or an elegant event hall, cost two hundred dollars per person.
“You know. The dance.”
“Ah. That.”
The joint dances began in fifth grade, when middle school started, and were organized separately for each grade. Jiyu, however, had never attended one.
Chloe’s parents had forbidden her from going to school dances until ninth grade.
Since her best friend could not attend, Jiyu had always put off going as well. She was curious enough to want to experience one at least once, but not so curious that she desperately needed to.
As far as she knew, Hunter had never attended one of the parties either. They were usually held on Friday evenings, and because he had tournaments nearly every weekend, Hunter spent most Friday afternoons in special training sessions with his coach.
“What about you?”
Hunter asked.
“I’m going this time. With Chloe.”
“When is it?”
“Two weeks from now, on Friday. Are you going?”
At that, he pulled his phone from his pocket and checked something. Jiyu caught a brief glimpse of a densely packed table labeled “Tournament Schedule.”
He answered in an indifferent tone.
“Probably.”
Probably.
In Hunter-speak, that was practically the same as saying he would definitely be there.
Jiyu was slightly surprised, but she said nothing. Once a month, he had a tournament-free week devoted to reviewing match footage, and it seemed the dates had happened to line up.
When their apartment building came into view a block away, Jiyu quietly breathed a sigh of relief.
It was almost astonishing that they had made it all the way home while carrying on a civilized conversation without exchanging a single insult or starting an argument.
“Wait for me and stop by the tree house for a little while.”
Jiyu looked up at him questioningly.
Hunter handed her the folded umbrella.
“I have a tournament this weekend. It’s an L2, but this time I’m playing in the under-eighteen division instead of sixteen-and-under. It’s important. College coaches will be there watching.”
Something cold and sharp settled in Jiyu’s chest.
‘Of course. I almost got the wrong idea. Good thing I didn’t ask.’
She had forgotten.
There was only one reason Hunter would wait for her in the rain and walk beneath an umbrella at her pace.
How stupid of her.
“You’re not even going to change? You’re soaked.”
Her voice came out quieter and more dispirited than she intended.
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll wait, so change if you want.”
“…It doesn’t matter to me either.”
All at once, Jiyu felt as though the air had gone out of her, leaving her limp and exhausted. She did not have the energy to argue with Hunter about whether she would go to the tree house.
She simply wanted to finish the ritual as quickly as possible, retreat to her room, and rest with a book.
The two of them entered the apartment lobby and walked silently down the corridor toward the courtyard, leaving a small distance between them.
In truth, Jiyu had expected Hunter to pester her for a while, eventually realize how ridiculous the whole thing was, and give up.
Yet even now, in ninth grade, he still summoned her to the tree house before important matches.
Only after searching online and reading about how strictly athletes clung to their pregame routines had she reluctantly accepted it.
She agreed to come to the tree house perhaps once out of every three times he asked.
When they were younger, refusing had been difficult because she wanted access to the books in Hunter’s library. Now, however, she could simply borrow whatever she wanted from the school library.
Still, because Hunter had arranged for her to receive math tutoring from the best tutor in the field at almost no cost—and because Lauren’s influence kept the children who looked down on her from becoming too brazen—Jiyu could not completely ignore his requests.
And if she was being entirely honest, every time the great Hunter Hamilton begged her to come to the tree house, a warped little sense of satisfaction rose inside her as well.
The rain-soaked courtyard looked strangely lonely.
It was still too early to call it evening, yet dusk descended quickly over the courtyard, enclosed on all sides by tall apartment buildings.
Between the benches stood a classical gas-lamp-style fixture made of muted green cast iron in an Art Nouveau design. Its light was already burning.
Heavy raindrops swirled through the yellow glow like moths circling a flame on a midsummer night.
Neither of them opened an umbrella. They hurried across the courtyard toward the tree house.
“You go first.”
At the foot of the ladder, Hunter jerked his chin toward the entrance.
“Huh? Oh… okay.”
Jiyu answered awkwardly and began to climb.
He had surprised her several times today.
For the past year, she had vaguely sensed that Hunter was becoming more human little by little. Even so, it still felt strange and unfamiliar that he would think to let her go first instead of rushing inside alone to escape the rain.
Lost in thought, Jiyu climbed on instinct.
Then her foot slipped.
One leg shot straight through the rungs, and the weight of her backpack dragged her upper body backward.
“Whoa!”
Her backpack slammed hard into something.
“Ugh.”
At the same moment, a long arm shot around her waist.
Hunter, who had been standing behind her, caught her instinctively as she toppled backward. From just above her head, he grumbled,
“Hey, watch what you’re doing, munchki—Ju Parker.”
The backpack had absorbed most of the impact against her back.
The humiliation, however, struck her full force.
‘He was definitely about to call me munchkin, wasn’t he?’
Munchkin was the nickname Hunter used for his little sister Daisy whenever she climbed dangerously over his exercise equipment.
Jiyu was mortified.
She had nearly landed flat on her backside in a rain-filled puddle right in front of him, and then he had almost treated her like a little child, the same way he treated Daisy.
Her face turned crimson in an instant.
Fortunately, her back was still toward him.
“S-sorry. The new ladder is way too slippery…”
The old wooden ladder had recently been replaced after complaints about safety. The new plastic one had rounded edges and became treacherously slick whenever it was wet.
Still leaning against Hunter, with one leg trapped between the rungs, Jiyu flailed her arms as she tried to regain her balance.
Hunter muttered irritably,
“Hold still for a second. I’ll lift you.”
He released the arm around her waist, firmly grasped both her forearms, and slowly pushed her upward.
Jiyu hurried the rest of the way up the ladder and stepped inside the tree house.
It was even darker within than it was outside, but the space was as familiar to her as her own bedroom.
Without hesitation, she crossed to the far side and dropped onto the sofa.
As she brushed the wet strands of hair from her forehead and cheeks, her gaze fell on her thighs, glistening with rain.
‘Oh no. My skirt is too short. He didn’t see anything while I was climbing, did he?’
School regulations required students to wear short leggings beneath their skirts, so even if something had shown, it would have been the shorts rather than her underwear.
Knowing that did nothing to help.
Her cheeks, which had just begun to cool, burned hot all over again.
Jiyu shook her head vigorously, trying to drive away the unnecessary thought.
Hunter was not like other boys who were obsessed with girls.
He had no interest in anything except tennis.
If someone forced him to choose between a beautiful woman in a bikini and a tennis racket, Jiyu would have wagered a week’s allowance that he would choose the racket without a moment’s hesitation.
At that moment, Hunter awkwardly ducked his upper body and climbed into the tree house.
When they were younger, the place had never seemed cramped, even when several children crowded inside, shouting and making a racket.
Now, somehow, the tree house appeared to shrink a little more each time they visited.
Jiyu remembered sitting on the sofa and reading while Hunter climbed onto the roof, stomped around overhead, and leaped back down to the floor.
It felt as though it had happened only yesterday.
And yet years had already passed.
‘Is this what adults call nostalgia?’
There was something deeply unsettling about growing up.
As Hunter slowly straightened from his crouch, the top of his head brushed the cobwebbed ceiling.
Apparently startled himself, he quickly ducked again and shook his hair several times like a large dog.
Water sprayed in every direction.
Jiyu wrinkled her nose and turned her face away.
A moment later, Hunter strode over and dropped heavily onto the sofa beside her.