Shinomiya stared at the grilled fish and white rice on the table. Covered in plastic wrap, they had long since grown cold. If she were going to eat them, she should probably reheat them first.
Even though she hadn’t eaten anything since last night, Shinomiya still couldn’t feel any hunger. Hugging her knees on the sofa, she continued to gaze blankly at some indeterminate point in space. It was nearly evening the day after parting with Hatano, meaning she had effectively skipped three meals. Whether her nausea and headache were from hunger, dehydration, lack of sleep, or something psychological, she could no longer tell.
Inside the room, only the faint sound of the heater could be heard. Shinomiya looked at the paper lantern she had placed beside her.
Seeing the gift from her, inscribed with the elegant characters for “Shinomiya,” Shinomiya became aware of the heat welling up in the corners of her eyes. She sniffled and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her clothes. Every time she thought back, she felt an overwhelming urge to cry, doing nothing but reaffirming just how significant that kind-hearted fool, Hatano, had become within her.
Deep down, a part of her had wondered if she might be the one in the wrong. A calm part of her heart, different from the panicked, judgmental child she had been, pointed out her own misunderstanding. However, the question meant to recognize that mistake had been cut off by her response of silence.
Her heart felt like an overripe tomato, as if it would burst with the slightest pressure.
Just a little longer, just a little more time, and her usual daily life would begin again. Things would go back to normal. Telling herself this as she hung her head in heartbreak, her smartphone, left on the table, suddenly buzzed. She instinctively looked up, unconsciously hoping for “Senpai.”
But the name displayed on the vibrating screen was not the one she had hoped for. Rather, it was the name of the person she least wanted to deal with. Seeing the incoming call from the person registered simply as ‘Mother,’ Shinomiya lost her voice.
—What could she possibly want now? It can’t be anything good.
Their last proper conversation was years ago; for all intents and purposes, their mother-daughter ties were severed. Shinomiya had no desire to happily accept a call from such a person.
After staring at the screen for a while, Shinomiya let out a faint sigh and reached for it.
She considered ignoring it, but it might be something important. She decided she would at least listen. Tapping the answer button, she held the phone to her ear.
“…Hello.”
Lacking the energy or will to sound cheerful, Shinomiya responded in a subdued voice.
It might have been a long time since they last spoke, but she had no intention of exchanging pleasantries and it seemed the other party felt the same.
‘Do you have a lover?’
A voice, icy, quiet, sharp—unchanged from the past—struck her eardrums.
The question was so blunt and direct that Shinomiya was slightly taken aback. It took her a moment to process and digest the inquiry before she furrowed her brows.
“What? Why are you calling me out of the blue to ask that?”
Even if they were family, she had no desire to discuss private matters without even a greeting with someone she hadn’t spoken to in so long. Assuming the other knew their relationship wasn’t that kind, Shinomiya retorted with clear resentment. Her mother responded with an audible sigh.
‘A marriage proposal has come for you. From a renowned male calligrapher. Accept it.’
It was too sudden, too abrupt. Shinomiya’s eyes widened in disbelief, and she was left speechless.
This was the kind of outdated, anachronistic custom she had seen on TV and in manga, something she had always thought of as someone else’s problem. Hearing it from her own flesh and blood made Shinomiya doubt her ears. And she couldn’t believe her mother was saying this, of all things, to her own daughter, whom she had effectively driven out and lived separately from.
As Shinomiya stood dumbfounded, her mother rapidly piled on the details.
‘He possesses excellent artistic sensibilities, but it seems there are issues with his character. He’s over forty and still hasn’t established a stable family, so his family line will end with his generation. It’s not a bad offer for us either, so when we presented the proposal and showed him your photo, he said “By all means.”‘
A rage that felt like it would scorch her brain surged up. She wanted to curse her biological mother out right then and hang up. But, calming herself with the thought that getting emotional wouldn’t lead to a proper discussion, Shinomiya opened her mouth to reason.
“Why should I have to accept something like that?”
‘It shouldn’t be a bad deal for you either.’
“Whether it’s good or not is for me to decide. Do you think I’d smile and happily agree to a marriage proposal with a stranger, suddenly presented by a mother I haven’t spoken to in years? I’ll choose my own partner.”
‘You have contributed nothing to the Shinomiya family line as an artist. Go ahead and sell that cheap body of yours once or twice. That is the responsibility of being born into the “Shinomiya” lineage.’
They weren’t connecting. They were supposedly speaking the same language, yet nothing was getting through.
‘I do not acknowledge you as my daughter. Lacking artistic talent, and on top of that, running away from it all, you’re nothing but a shackle holding that child back—even if I wanted to acknowledge you as my child, you’ve disgraced your parents. Do you know how much I’ve lamented, wondering why you alone turned out this way, even though you share the same blood as that child?’
Her headache intensified. Her vision distorted chaotically like heated vinyl, and nausea welled up. Stomach acid rose, leaving a sour taste in her mouth. Biting her lip to keep from vomiting, she let her consciousness slip and dug her nails into her own knees.
‘But, if you were to bring a distinguished bloodline into the Shinomiya family, then your life would have had meaning. The meaning of giving birth to you would be born there. — Everyone wants that. They want you to do that. They will acknowledge your reason for existing.’
She had always wanted it. She had wanted someone to acknowledge her existence, her being alive. And the woman who had relentlessly driven her to want that very thing understood it better than anyone else. That’s why she was trying to lure her in with sweet words that exploited that desire.
But, why? She felt not the slightest attraction to those words.
There had been someone who, for the first time, had truly filled her heart, which had been starving and parched beyond measure. Every time she remembered Hatano’s words, which had seized her heart and wouldn’t let go, she felt the inferiority and anguish she had accumulated dissipate like mist. Shinomiya glanced at the lantern beside her and recalled her face. She might have reached out to her because her sister told her to, but everything she had received was genuine. Not just things, but her heart, her words.
Just closing her eyes made her appear in her memories. Feeling apologetic but using her as an excuse nonetheless, Shinomiya said,
“I have a lover, so it’s impossible. I can’t accept.”
Growing tired of trying to persuade her, Shinomiya lied.
A beat of silence passed. Then, without hesitation, her mother cut her down.
‘Break up with them. I don’t know who it is, but it’s surely someone worthless.’
“Y-you’ve got to be—!”
The blood in her entire body seemed to boil. Shinomiya’s eyes widened, and she was about to hurl insults at her. Regardless of herself, she couldn’t forgive her for insulting Hatano without even knowing her, and she wanted to lash out emotionally. But, realizing their fundamental values were different and that anything she said would likely be pointless, she reconsidered and steadied her breathing.
“…Don’t be ridiculous. What do you know, Mom?”
‘Leave it to the person I’ve chosen. You’ve always been making mistakes.’
“I can’t trust a ‘fine person’ based on the values of someone who disparages a person they’ve never even met as ‘worthless.’ I’ll choose my own partner. I…! I am not a tool of the Shinomiya family!”
When she retorted with a voice strained with anguish, her mother sounded exasperated. After letting out an obvious, disgusted sigh, a few seconds of silence passed. If there was even a shred of familial affection, perhaps these words would make her back down. Shinomiya held onto that faint hope, but her biological mother was more heartless than anyone.
‘Far from contributing to the family line, you’ve disgraced us and held back your talented older sister. You’re less than a pet animal bred for amusement—you deserve to be called a tool.’
Words failed her. She tried to say something back, but her throat refused. Only a ragged breath escaped, and Shinomiya perceived the trembling in her extremities. Her breathing grew slightly ragged, and the corners of her eyes grew hot. If she let her guard down, she felt she would cry right then, so Shinomiya bit her lip hard.
Her breathing trembled. Surely, even over the phone, that woman could hear it.
Shinomiya tried to somehow hold back her tears, but she couldn’t stop a single drop from falling onto her knee. Wiping her tears with her sleeve, she asked, almost shouting.
“You… you’re the ones who told me not to use the Shinomiya surname…!? You’re the ones who told me not to hold a brush under the Shinomiya name!? Because you didn’t want people to know I was blood-related to my sister, you told me to do it alone, both of you!”
When she asked, almost crying out, an utterly cold voice returned.
‘Well then, if I said you could paint under the Shinomiya surname, could you do it?’
—Asked that, she forgot to breathe. A moment of speechlessness fed the swelling malice.
‘Go ahead and use the name. Hold your brush amidst the media’s exaggerated evaluation of you as Rokai’s little sister and the public’s interest, and demonstrate your ability to the fullest. If you insist that much, I’ll allow it. I won’t demand anything in return. Just do as you please, freely.’
Can you do it? Her mother’s words, posed like a question, left Shinomiya unable to say anything in return. Only loneliness and frustration wet her cheeks. Despising her pathetic self, Shinomiya clenched her fists tightly. Her mother scoffed.
‘No one values your paintings. No one is attracted to the dregs of dried-up talent. I thought I was making a proposal that would get even someone like you acknowledged by everyone but oh well. If you’re going to refuse, I won’t force the matter any further.’
In a tone that sounded utterly fed up, her mother concluded the conversation like that.
Shinomiya no longer had the energy left to say anything back to her. She just bit her lip, desperately stifling her sobs, and focused solely on wiping away the heat overflowing from her eyes.
‘However, you are no longer a member of the Shinomiya family. Never cross our threshold again.’
Saying that, she hung up without waiting for a reply.
Hearing the inorganic click of the call ending, Shinomiya let the phone she had held to her ear drop onto the sofa. No one was listening to her voice anymore. There was no one to hear her complaints. The moment she understood that, the sobs she had been stubbornly holding back with sheer willpower overflowed.
Shinomiya sat hugging her knees, pressing her eyes against her arm. Slowly, heat seeped into her clothes. With each sob, her shoulders shook, and her irregular, ragged breaths gave sound to her tears.
She hadn’t expected anything from herself. Aware that she was a hopeless case, she had lived her days just trying to fill her heart. Then she met a wonderful person who made her want to change that way of living, who acknowledged her a little, who had expectations of her. Because she had changed like that, she found her current self unbearably pathetic.
The self that couldn’t talk back, the self that couldn’t paint. Shinomiya came to hate everything.
She wanted someone to save her. She wanted someone to come to her side and encourage her. Every time she thought that, the face of the woman she had pushed away herself came to mind, and her chest tightened. Suffocating, feeling like she might vomit, she clung to her memories of her.
—The reason I’m suffering like this is all your fault.
Her changed heart spilled that complaint.
In the brilliantly shining night city, Hatano narrowed her eyes and let out a white breath.
Traffic signals, car headlights and streetlights, neon signs of night establishments, fluorescent lights of old shops. Spotlights illuminating signs, people’s mobile phones, large vision screens. She could hear the sounds of people’s breathing, which was why Hatano liked the night city. Walking alone through the still-lively streets, even though it was late, Hatano immersed herself in thought.
—Then, why are you so kind to me, Senpai?
She had pondered all night, begrudging even sleep, but found no answer. She had acted on emotion, not logic, yet she didn’t understand her own emotions. At first, it was a vague sense of disliking the way Shinomiya lived that had guided her actions, but that had changed partway through. She had been acting without knowing its true nature, without assigning it a name or meaning.
The core of Shinomiya’s question and the part Hatano was agonizing over were slightly misaligned. Shinomiya wanted to know, ‘If you’re not Rokai’s agent, then why do you care about me so much?’ It was a logic that said if there was no reply, then you must be an agent after all, and she wanted some kind of answer to negate that.
In contrast, Hatano was trying to give a ‘proper answer.’ While understanding that Shinomiya just wanted some kind of reply, she also believed her answer had to be one without lies or falsehoods regarding her own feelings. A stopgap answer might have cleared up the misunderstanding. But, thinking about the future, she wanted to clarify her own stance.
Besides, she had to admit she was a troublesome person herself.
If she didn’t make these things clear, it would show plainly on her face.
Hatano rubbed her stiffened expression as if slapping it, lost in thought.
It was just as Hatano, continuing to walk like that, was about to pass by the side of a convenience store. Like a rerun from the other day, two familiar faces emerged from the store.
“Huh.”
“Oh.”
Feeling a sense of déjà vu at this reunion, Hatano let out an involuntary sound. Seeing Hatano, Shindo also opened his mouth in apparent surprise. —The two walking out of the convenience store side by side were Shindo and Shijima. Their hands were full of bags stuffed with snacks and alcohol; it wasn’t hard to guess what they were about to do.
Shijima, surprised by the unexpected encounter, was also pleased to see her again.
“Hatano! What a coincidence. What are you doing around here?”
“Just walking, taking a stroll. You two are… well, I guess I don’t need to ask.”
As if responding to Hatano’s voice, the two lifted the plastic bags they were holding. Two guys having a tabletop drinking session. She felt a pang of envy for such close childhood friends. Hatano cast her gaze at Shindo, whom she had met in exactly the same spot just the other day.
“Shindo, too. We meet again.”
“We meet again. —Though, I do live around here. If you come to this area after sunset, there’s a pretty high chance of an encounter.”
While she had no particular reason to see him, for Hatano, he was also the benefactor who had told her about Shinomiya’s background. Especially regarding the ‘Shinomiya family,’ he was likely more knowledgeable than Hatano, so there was no loss in maintaining a connection. Besides, she owed him for the drinking party the other day.
“You helped me out the other time.”
“Don’t worry about it. I just want to curry favor with a certain someone who won’t give me the time of day.”
Shindo laughed frivolously, confessing his ulterior motives regarding Rokai, whom he was currently infatuated with. Even though he had contacted Rokai since then and exchanged contact info, Hatano decided it was best to keep that matter secret, as she couldn’t just hand it over freely, regardless of any debt of gratitude.