VII — Faceless, Indifferent, and Artificial Flowers by Riku Reita

Hello. My name is Riku Reita. Aomori High School.

Deep down, I never felt anything towards others.

However, by the time I met her, everything changed.

Why?

I will give you a brief story.

My story. 

The one that started after the class break. Right in front of the classroom door.

One week ago.

"Reita-kun! Don’t you have anyone you like?"

She leaned closer, smiling.

Artificial. Insincere.

"Oh, me?"

Then, I merely mirrored that expression.

"...I mean, right! Haha, sorry!"

"I’ve been too focused on studying, so I never really thought about it."

I scratched my hair that didn’t feel itchy.

Liar. A sweet, filthy lie.

"Woah, that’s so diligent of you, Reita-kun!"

"But..."

"Be honest. Is there anyone you like from us, hm?"

Like... huh.

Only then did I realize I was surrounded.

Girls.

Faceless. Blurry. Lossless.

The kind you’d find in any drama. No personality. Just masks.

Uniform. Repetitive.

They appeared with expressions of genuine interest.

Or something close enough to imitate it.

Should I tell another lie?

Or would honesty even matter?

"E-excuse me..."

A light brown-haired girl passed between us.

Glasses.

Quiet.

Unremarkable.

She wore a boring, indifferent mask.

...and yet—

"Oh, sure..."

I stepped aside, just enough to give her space.

More than enough.

Yet, I still found myself watching her intently.

Meanwhile, the girls reacted differently.

Not only were they stepping back—

They distanced themselves.

Enough to shift the conversation entirely.

"Ehhh... is that Kanzaki Anna-san?" one of them whispered.

"Oh, right, right. That boring, nerdy girl?" another replied.

"Wait, you didn’t know? She’s every teacher’s favorite!"

"Woah, really? I’m so jealous."

"She even beats Reita-kun in every exam!" the girl beside me added.

"Hey, aren’t you jealous too, Reita-kun?"

"She thinks so highly of herself."

"Yeah, yeah. That’s true."

"Someone like her needs to be put in place, don’t you think?"

All of a sudden, they were all talking at once.

Chirping.

Like birds crowding a nest.

Their voices began to blur into the background—

Until I couldn’t tell them apart anymore.

Though, it never really mattered.

Amidst those mundane chirps, the bell rang.

All at once, they scattered back to their own nests.

And Kanzaki Anna—

sat by the window.

Looking down.

Reading her notebook.

Unbothered by what was said.

I glanced at her again, still standing by the classroom door.

Then I started walking away.

Slowly. Step by step.

Yet, my eyes remained on her.

Her indifferent face.

Her soft, red lips.

Her unbothered eyes.

And her long, bobbed light brown hair.

Everything was well-defined.

Unlike those girls earlier.

But why?

How?

Isn’t she just an average, boring girl?

It didn’t make any sense.

Not at all.

I looked away...

as the teacher arrived to begin the lesson.

"I'm home!"

"Oh, that's Riku-chan. Welcome back, my dear!"

Her soft, caring voice followed.

A stark contrast to those girls.

I smiled as usual, walking slowly toward the dinner table.

"So, what's for today, Mom?"

The aroma of dinner drifted through the house.

It was warm, familiar, structured.

And unlike the noise at school, this was predictable. 

Safe and somehow almost rehearsed in a way.

“Today was a bit late, wasn't it my dear?” she said, while placing a plate down in front of me.

“Club activities, Mom.” I replied.

She hummed softly, not pressing further. 

I picked up my chopsticks.

Paused.

For a moment, I saw it again.

Faceless.

Blurry.

Lossless.

The girls from school, overlapping in my mind like a corrupted file trying to render itself into something coherent. Their voices didn’t replay as words. Only tones, noises, and patterns.

And then—

Kanzaki Anna.

Still.

Defined.

Why did she stay like that?

I frowned slightly, unnoticed even by myself.

“Riku-chan?”

“…Yeah?”

“You’re spacing out.”

“I’m not.”

She smiled, as if accepting it anyway.

I continued eating.

But the question didn’t dissolve.

It lingered somewhere behind my thoughts, refusing to flatten itself into noise.

Why was she different?

Was she really different?

Or was I simply… interpreting her differently?

That possibility made something uncomfortable stir in me.

Because if that were true—

Then the problem wasn’t them.

And really, it wasn’t her either.

Instead, it was me.

I tightened my grip on the chopsticks slightly.

The clink of ceramic against porcelain echoed too clearly in my ears.

Too defined, just like her.

I stopped, as I was looking down at the bowl.

The rice was still there. Existing.

No interpretation required. Let alone any metaphor.

The steam rising from the bowl brushed faintly against my face.

Warm.

Almost annoyingly warm.

I stared at it longer than necessary.

Some grains stuck to the side unevenly. A few looked crushed together. Mom probably packed it too tightly into the cooker again. She always did that when she was distracted watching television while cooking.

A pointless observation.

Yet my mind held onto it anyway.

The kitchen light reflected softly against the lacquered table surface. There were tiny scratches near the edge from years ago. I remembered making them accidentally with a compass during elementary school homework.

Mom got upset for an entire week over that.

Now she probably didn’t even remember.

Funny.

People forget things so easily.

Then why couldn’t I?

Why was a girl I barely knew still sitting inside my thoughts like a bookmark I couldn’t remove?

It wasn’t as though she smiled at me.

Or talked to me.

Or did anything memorable at all.

If anything, she looked like the type of person people naturally overlooked.

So why did her face remain clear—

while everyone else blurred together the moment they left my sight?

I blinked once.

The rice had gone slightly colder.

And yet I couldn’t stop thinking about a girl who said almost nothing, did almost nothing, and somehow stayed sharper in my mind than everything else combined.

That didn’t make sense.

Not at all.

I exhaled slowly.

“Riku-chan, you’re really tired today, aren’t you?”

“…Yeah.”

This time, I didn’t correct it.

Outside, the world continued as usual.

Though, inside... maybe my heart stirred for a bit.

And slowly but sure, was unable to forget it.