Water pools in her eyelids. Eyes burning with heat spill something hot. Not wanting to show a pathetic face at this long-awaited, desperately desired reunion, she clenches her fists, bites her lip, desperately holds back tears as she stares at her, trying to form an apology. But the released tension won’t allow her to brace herself again, and Shinomiya lets out a small sob. She bites her trembling lip several times, but the tears won’t stop, and she repeats breaths with her trembling throat and lungs. She roughly wipes the tears away with the heel of her hand.
She had arbitrarily convinced herself that Hatano acted for her sake because Hatano was on her side. So, when she learned Hatano had hidden her connection to Rokai, she was hurt and selfishly misunderstood—thinking Hatano hadn’t helped her because she was an ally.
It was true Hatano had hidden her connection to her sister. It was true Hatano hadn’t explained why she was helping her. But if she thought Hatano was acting against her will because someone told her to, that was a huge mistake. —Hatano was watching over her.
Understanding this, Shinomiya apologized to her.
“I’m… sorry…!”
Instantly, Hatano gently embraces Shinomiya’s slender frame, trembling with sobs.
Then, smiling softly, she lightly pats her back.
“Mhm. I’m the one who should apologize for making you anxious.”
“Calmed down?”
Timing it as the sobs subsided, Hatano asked Shinomiya, whose face was buried in her chest. After several minutes of holding the sobbing Shinomiya on the sofa, her voice finally settled.
Her eyes finally adjusted to the dimly lit room illuminated only by light from the night view outside. Hatano lowered her gaze to her. Still clinging without a word, Shinomiya sniffled slightly, then tightened her embrace further, pressing her forehead firmly against her. “Hey, hey,” Hatano laughed while stroking her back, and Shinomiya finally pulled away, wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes.
Then she sat back down beside Hatano and rested her head on her shoulder.
“…Why did you come?”
“Because I thought you were crying.”
At Hatano’s flippant reply to the question, Shinomiya showed a slightly dissatisfied expression. But even if it wasn’t the answer she sought, because it felt comforting, she said, “I’m glad I cried,” wiping the corner of her eye.
Then, while wrapping an arm around Shinomiya’s waist and pulling her close, Hatano glanced at the painting Shinomiya had done on the old canvas. She stared intently, as if savoring the slightly blurred nightscape—a captivating piece—then closed her eyes and smiled faintly. After that, she took out her own smartphone.
“…To clarify again, I contacted Rokai after meeting you. Remember going to the museum? She heard about us through a patron back then and ambushed me at the station. After seeing you off, I was invited to a bar.”
Saying this, Hatano displayed the message history with Rokai on the screen. Showing private messages felt awkward, but regarding secrets, they were accomplices. Since they’d promised to solve each other’s problems themselves, she sought post-facto approval for this matter.
Shinomiya accepted the smartphone Hatano offered. Carefully scrolling with her soft, small, paint-stained fingers to avoid smearing paint, she traced back through the message history. Confirming that the date of the earliest sent message was right after the date changed on the day they visited the museum together, she returned it to Hatano.
“I should have… listened more. I’m really sorry for getting hurt on my own and running away.”
At Shinomiya’s words, dominated by terrible regret, Hatano let out a sigh. Bonk. She gave a light headbutt with her temple to Shinomiya, who had rested her head on her shoulder.
“I’m the one who couldn’t talk properly, and I’m sorry for staying silent.”
“But… that was something you did because you were thinking of me, right?”
“—Yeah. So, I don’t think this is about who’s at fault. I’ll talk properly next time, so please listen properly next time. I won’t selfishly betray you.”
There was no reply for a while, but even without hearing it, she knew Shinomiya was taking those words to heart. After a few seconds, she nodded heavily.
“I promise.”
Hearing that, Hatano smiled faintly and nodded back.
She had been terribly unstable. The events with Rokai and the painting had gradually changed her, making her begin to deny her way of life until now, which was why she had been shaken so severely. But judging by the straightforward look in her eyes now, there was probably no need to worry anymore. Hatano glanced at the work she had painted and assessed her current self.
“And, there’s one more thing I have to talk about. The answer to the question of why I’m kind to you.”
If they reconciled amicably without addressing this, these past few days of making her anxious would have been utterly meaningless. She broached the topic, thinking they had to reach a conclusion on this matter too. Seeming to sense her resolve, Shinomiya also straightened her posture with a serious expression.
“I thought about a lot of things while consulting various people. I, to be honest, I acted without thinking too deeply. I prioritized emotion over logic, and if I thought ‘I should do this,’ I followed that. Just when I thought it was fine as long as no one got hurt, I ended up making you anxious. I was immersed in the self-satisfaction of offering unconditional kindness without considering the feelings of the recipient.”
As Hatano’s words carried apology, Shinomiya showed an expression as if wanting to say something.
“That’s not it. I was the one who got anxious on my own.”
“As long as human connections build ‘relationships,’ anxiety isn’t something you can generate entirely by yourself, right? Emotions stemming from relationships are caused by some action. Whatever form it takes, if we’re going to build a relationship going forward, I want to eliminate any future worries.”
Speaking with her own feelings included, Shinomiya seemed unable to find room for rebuttal and slumped her shoulders. Seeing right through Shinomiya’s transparent effort to never make her the villain, Hatano felt happy and smiled, thinking she was probably attracted to that part of her.
“I think—”
Hatano began with a faint smile.
“I think… I feel frustrated.”
At Hatano’s quietly spun words, Shinomiya widened her eyes in surprise.
The honest feeling conveyed to Shijima. ‘I don’t want someone I like to dislike the things I like’—she had chewed over and interpreted in her own way, and the answer she arrived at was that. Shinomiya voiced her confusion, as if unable to grasp the true meaning of that answer.
“Frustrated…?”
“Yes. I’m not a pro like Shijima, so I might be told I have no right to say this… but I know well the pain of dreaming and the feelings you stake on it. So, I couldn’t stand seeing someone working hard not get rewarded.”
Vaguely, as if looking at her past self, she gazed at the window reflecting the night view. Her own face, reflected just slightly, seemed nostalgic for something.
“I’m blessed. Not a single family member ever laughed at my dream of being a writer, even once; they pushed this pitiful back of mine. Even when I couldn’t produce results, they didn’t urge me to give up; they encouraged me. I have pro friends, and I even have devoted readers. In an environment where I can immerse myself freely without constraints, I just keep struggling without producing results. Or perhaps, precisely because of that.”
There are people like Iizuka who look down on me. But the people close to me have always pushed the back of this foolish artist-wannabe who shouts about dreams. However, there are also those who aren’t like that.
Hatano looked at Shinomiya, whose cheeks relaxed as if gazing at something enviable yet beautiful.
“While there are people being encouraged even without producing results in such an environment, there are also comrades who kept making efforts without anyone’s recognition, whose very efforts were denied and who broke. It started with a slight connection at first, and I got close because I was interested in the gap between your words/actions and your personality. But if I had to give a reason for being kind to you, I think it’s because I felt unbearably frustrated about that.”
As Hatano spun her own feelings into words, Shinomiya listened quietly.
Returning her gaze to Shinomiya’s eyes, Hatano smiled with a hint of self-mockery.
“I might be called a fool, but I want those who work hard to be rewarded.”
At these words, Shinomiya’s expression stiffened, her eyes widening. Then, Shinomiya twisted her face as if holding back tears about to fall, smiled, and shook her head.
“Working hard…! While I was spending my time being hopeless, there must have been people continuing their efforts. So, such a thing—”
“Effort isn’t relative evaluation. What’s the point of comparing with others?”
When denied, Shinomiya’s face twisted further.
It’s true she stumbled and lost her way. During that time, she might not have been making efforts recognized by society. But that wandering was due to having her efforts denied; it was a run-up to connect to the next step. Even if it didn’t leave a visible form, she should be able to take pride in it.
“Artists might be all about results, but the process never disappears. No matter how many detours or stops, the footprints you’ve walked remain in your life. No matter how down and out you are now, the efforts you’ve accumulated don’t just vanish.”
She couldn’t spout nonsense like ‘If you work hard, your dreams will absolutely come true,’ and she understood that unrewarded efforts make up the vast majority in the world. Successful people talk as if they know, saying ‘Your method of effort is wrong,’ but she also knew no one teaches you the right way to make effort.
But even without results, it’s still effort. Even if things don’t go as hoped, isn’t it fine if someday, somewhere, in some form, a day of reward comes? As Hatano earnestly admonished her with such thoughts, Shinomiya painfully twisted her face and looked down.
She didn’t know that much about her. The time they’d shared was short, and the past was only heard through words. But in this living room, the old canvas clamped on the easel told of none other than the pain and anguish she had accumulated.
There are probably many people better at painting than her, many who worked hard. There must surely be sincere people who, unlike her, didn’t rot away and kept making efforts. Even so.
“You worked hard, didn’t you?”
Admonishing her in a quiet tone, Shinomiya’s eyes wavered greatly and she bit her lip. Her fists clenched on her lap trembled, holding deep conflict over whether to acknowledge it or not. When a hot drop fell from her eye, Shinomiya’s face twisted with tears, sniffling as she nodded slightly. “…Yeah,” just that single word, finally.
Watching her from the corner of her eye as she desperately wiped the corners of her eyes to hold back tears, Hatano quietly waited.
The moment you think effort is meaningless without reward, you start to rot. The instant you believe effort is wasted without results, dreams crumble. Precisely because not everyone can achieve the results they hope for, Hatano thought you should at least praise your own efforts, if only to yourself.
Eventually, when the small sobs faded. Hatano wrapped up the conversation.
“That’s my answer. Has your anxiety been dispelled?”
When asked, she wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. Her eyes were already bright red, her eyelids swollen.
While still showing faint tears, she revealed a soft smile and nodded.
“…Yes. I’ll be fine now.”
Shinomiya asserted in a soft tone, but with a voice devoid of hesitation.
Relieved by those words, Hatano nodded, “I see.” Instantly, all strength left her body, and she looked up at the ceiling with a sigh. Shinomiya, who had been watching Hatano with a look both apologetic and happy, narrowed her eyes slightly and spoke.
“…Do you remember what we talked about at the museum?”
An unexpected question. The phone call at the station the other day flashed back, but this time it probably wouldn’t be a problem even if she couldn’t answer. Thinking “Hmm” somewhat lightly, she listed the events she remembered in her mind, trying to guess what Shinomiya was thinking of.
“That Rokai is a genius?”
“Bzzt.”
“Your father’s abusive words?”
“Bzzt, wrong.”
“…Hmm—”
Hatano thought a little, then voiced the main one.
“‘If you’re expecting me to change, please give up and discard me.'”
Recalling her words, she said it with a slight smile, and Shinomiya, blushing shyly, laughed, “Correct.” Fanning her reddened face with her hand, she closed her eyes as if searching for words. After pondering for a while, she eventually opened her mouth awkwardly.
“Let me retract that, please.”
Hatano smiled, thinking of how to tease her for shyly retracting it, but if she retracted it further, she’d be the one in trouble. Hiding her relaxed cheeks with her hand, she gave Shinomiya a sidelong glance. Shinomiya also relaxed her cheeks slightly as she poured out her feelings.
“I was aware it was a hopeless way to live, but even so, because it was still my own life lived that way, I was afraid to deny it. Even though I knew deep down that nothing could be fulfilled that way, I was timid about changing myself.”
“But,” she continued.
“You gave me the courage and strength to start walking. Because you taught me how to fill my parched heart, I want to change too.”
It was a declaration to Hatano and simultaneously a farewell to her past self. A rite of passage to bid farewell to her past self that had rotted and shut itself in, and to move forward.
Hatano, who had intended to watch over her with a long-term perspective until the day she could face forward, intending to support and protect her until then, showed a hint of surprise on her face. Then, relaxing her cheeks, she thought she might have underestimated her too.
Shinomiya looked at the easel placed by the window and the single painting on it. The blurred nightscape painted with transparent watercolors on the old canvas might be inferior in skill compared to Rokai’s, but for these two, this painting was a precious piece more valuable than any expensive artwork.
It was the crystallization of the anguish and conflict she had carried for years, the answer arrived at after a journey of pain and sorrow. The footprint left by the first step finally taken after countless marks time. It might be immature and clumsy, but it was something born because she had started walking forward.
Shinomiya whispered as if making a wish upon the stars floating beyond the window of the blurred nightscape.
“—I think I’ll dream again.”
Hatano quietly gazed at her profile.
Hatano picks up her pen to push someone’s back. A writer’s message doesn’t reach readers unless conveyed through their work, and whether that becomes self-righteous, one-sided sumo is something she must worry about time and again. Naturally, Hatano had such worries too, and it was the same in her relationship with Shinomiya. She had always wondered in the depths of her heart if she wasn’t being self-righteous.
So, just hearing this expression and these words from her was enough. She had just pontificated that effort should be rewarded, but she probably lacked persuasiveness unless she embodied it herself. As if searing the words and expression into her brain, Hatano closed her eyes as if savoring them.
“…I think there will be days when you feel miserable again. Days will come when you want to leave. I don’t know who will be by your side then but if you ever think of changing, there will surely be someone to support you. If there’s no one else, no matter how badly we fight or part ways, call me.”
As Hatano spoke, Shinomiya listened intently, leaning in.
“I’ll at least give you a pat on the back.”
When Hatano declared this clearly, Shinomiya smiled happily at the very Hatano-like remark. Relaxing her cheeks lazily, she murmured “Violence is wrong” as if reciting poetry. Then, with eyes and expression filled with deep emotion, she gazed at Hatano and laughed, “…You really are too kind, aren’t you?”
Hatano shrugged her shoulders and smiled back in the same way.
“I’m not this nice to just anyone. It’s only because I think of you so—”
“St-stop! No! You can’t!”
The moment Hatano tried to voice her feelings, Shinomiya’s fingers formed an X over her mouth. Surprised by the unexpected interruption, Hatano stopped speaking and stared wide-eyed at Shinomiya. Looking back, Shinomiya had flusteredly intervened to stop Hatano’s words, her cheeks slightly flushed as she gazed at Hatano with sweetly emotional eyes, as if pleading.
Tilting her head slightly, Hatano asked.
“What is it?”
When asked, Shinomiya pursed her lips and averted her gaze as if searching for words. As she struggled, her face gradually turned so red it was hard to look at, and heat seemed to radiate from her fingertips touching her lips. She returned her gaze to the oblivious Hatano as if resenting her, met Hatano’s eyes for a few seconds, then shyly lowered her face. Her ears flushed red as if steam might rise from them, and she squeezed out a trembling voice.
“…If you try to woo me now, I’ll definitely fall for you.”
Stunned by the unexpected words, Hatano watched as Shinomiya timidly raised her face.
“Because I’d end up liking you… so you can’t.”
Faced with Shinomiya’s weak confession, Hatano could only stare wide-eyed at her face. For a while, she blankly replayed Shinomiya’s words in her head, then felt happy that this Shinomiya was showing such an adorable side. Or perhaps, she laughed to herself, this might be how she’s charmed so many people before.
As if it were some kind of joke, Hatano—now perfectly one of those charmed—peeled Shinomiya’s hand away from her own mouth. Then, she extended her index finger to Shinomiya’s chin, now bright red, and touched her soft, pink lips with her thumb. As Shinomiya stiffened, her eyes wavering with confusion and anticipation, Hatano whispered a teasing remark.
“Silly.”
Being called that would only make it worse, of course.
In the quiet room on a still night where even heartbeats seemed audible, Shinomiya closed her eyes as if surrendering herself. They hadn’t even confessed their love yet—the order felt wrong—but remembering how this relationship began, such words seemed pointless. Yet, if they were to bring up logic, there were words Hatano should tell her afterward.
—Even such thoughts scattered like mist against the softness of her lips.