XX. a chameleon

Hanamura Wakumi had gone to middle school with the unwavering conviction to avoid making friends. Why? Because people scared her. Once upon a time, she'd been a girl and not a goblin, but then the primary school nation attacked; no one could be so cruel yet so innocent as a child. It hadn't been nice. To try again would be to take the path of a forest instead of a prarie, one which she'd endured once, and which she left as a monster.

She tried again. 

Middle school was better, actually. How unfortunate for it to be the time where children began to act like adults: dating, kissing, h*lding h*nds. Hanamura sat next to a scrawny-looking boy the first day of class, hoping he would and he wouldn't talk to her.

"The guy from earlier?" I asked.

She nodded. "He moved in to my neighborhood, so yeah. He told me he'd seen me around already so that's why he chose to sit next to me."

"Oh. Lucky."

"Very..."

At first, as often, it was small: she'd drop an eraser and he'd pick it up, or he'd forget a book so they'd sit together. As it grew, they talked. They both liked books. He drew manga. She wanted to learn how to do so. During one of their many failed attempts, the designated class artist stopped by to bully them. He, plus a couple of other guys, soon began to sit with them during lunch, once bullying became exhausting or whatever. One, then two, then five; such was her friend group. "I wasn't kidding when I said I'm not good at talking to girls," she said. 

"...you really sound like you'd get along with Kenji."

"Is that the guy you told m—" I nodded. "Really? He seemed normal when he talked to me."

"Wait, did you guys actually speak, or...?"

"No, just text. I guess that makes sense."

Speaking of things that made sense: she relearned how to play in the mud. In order to prove herself to middle school boys, Hanamura chose sweat instead of makeup. She couldn't bear cutting her hair, so she wore it as a braid instead, every day, as she—

"You could've just done both," I said. "It's not like girls can't wear makeup while... I don't know, playing soccer."

"It's a metaphor," she grumbled.

"That's not what a metaphor is. A metaphor was when I told you we're chameleons."

"Hmph. You must like literature a lot if you're giving me lessons."

"Not really. I learned that at the club."

"Then you must've liked it enough to remember."

She had to have done that on purpose. For what purpose, though. "Just... go on."

Anyway, it's not that she didn't like those things. She did. Hanamura still let her hair loose at home. She wore dresses at home. Outside, though... it wasn't safe. It didn't help how childhood cruelty often evolved into malice, which she seldom experienced yet witnessed; out of the five, she was the only one to get chosen for group projects outside of their shitty middle schooler pentagon. She often fought for the top three positions in her class when it came to grades.

"Wait, Hoshino told me—"

"I used her speech for the entrance ceremony, yeah. But! I was the runner-up. I'm not sure why she's going around saying that I randomly volunteered myself for it."

"Why didn't you use your own speech, then?" I asked.

"Cuz I forgot."

"Of course."

Being at the top of the class was a thin but convenient line of defense. How to defend her friends, though? What could she do to stop the designated artist from skipping class out of fear, her neighbor from losing his shoes, the designated runner-up artist from sporting mysterious bruises?

Nothing. She couldn't.

"...yeah, I get that. My middle school friends were assholes. Our team was pretty good, and we even won nationals once, in eighth grade, so they thought they were untouchable or something. Fuck them."

Hanamura blinked. "Team? For what?"

...oh, well. "Soccer."

"You play soccer?"

"Played. Ouch. You didn't have to say it like that."

She leaned forward, which made me sink against the seat. It was all I could do to keep myself from putting up a hand as a barrier. "And you won? What did you play as?"

"Striker."

"I don't know what that is, but it sounds cool."

"Then why did you ask? It's the, uh. Person who shoots. I don't really want to talk about it."

"That's okay." She hadn't touched her cookie (1) yet.

By the time middle school ended, the image of Girl had blurred yet attached to her so strongly that she had yet to use the stash of makeup she bought, or the shoes, or even a teddy bear keychain she'd bought as a gift from herself to herself. High school, though... that'd be their debut. For all five of them. And she'd get a Girl group and do Girl things and talk about menstruation. 

"It's not going well for any of us, though. Well. It was going well for me until, you know... but Gou-chan—the guy from earlier—is doing fine. He's with, uh, two other guys from our group at a high school in the city. I didn't want to go there, so that's why i stayed. Here. Yuu got into a school that focuses on art so he's going there, I think, but yeah. He never wants to talk about how he's doing, so he's probably doing as bad as me."

I was so used to three cups of coffee whenever I came to this place that it physically pained me to miss one. Because she'd spoken so much, Hanamura hadn't even drunk half of it. As she lifted said cup, the group of girls at the corner stood up to leave.

"Oh! That's the uniforn from Gou-chan's school."

It was the uniform of all time. One of them saw us staring, so she pointed at us. The others giggled. I held my gaze, but Hanamura didn't. "Why would they come all the way from Tokyo to this place?" I asked, to no one in particular. "Makes no sense."

"Cuz it's cute?"

"It's really nothing special."

"It could be to them."

"You always answer like that."

She :3'd. 

"So," I said, "I get you wanted to debut or whatever, but was lying really necessary? You know what. Before we go on, just answer yes or no to the following: do you know four languages?"

"Eh... no."

"Did you pretend to be your own boyfriend online?"

"It's complicated."

"Are you a foreigner?"

"My grand-grand-grand-grandfather could be."

"Why lie?" I asked. "What was the point? Didn't you stop to think that it'd end up backfiring eventually?"

Hanamura chewed on her lower lip for so long that it made sense that she hadn't been properly socialized. 

"How can I believe anything you're telling me if you've admitted to lying?"

This made her frown. "Huh? So what, are you honest a hundred percent of the time?"

"I don't lie about dumb shit, for one."

"So can you look at me in the eyes and tell me that you're perfectly fine with getting kicked out of the theater thingy and that you never liked it? Come on. Do it."

I held her gaze. "I'm fine with—"

She burst out giggling.

"...well, fuck."

"Sorry. I'm. I can't. Stare at people for long without. Y-you weren't gonna be able to say it anyway."

"You just had a staring contest with me like three days ago. Come on."

"No, that was a blinking contest. It's different."

"You're so..." I trailed off. "Okay, fine, it kind of sucks to get kicked out. So? I really didn't care about it when I joined. It's just one of those things you learn to accept. I guess."

"Why didn't you join something else, then? Back when you didn't like it?"

It rained. I hadn't noticed until now. No gold, just silver. Not a single umbrella to add color tot he street outside. Since she'd loredumped on me, I figured I could tell her a bit about myself in return, but my chainsmoker laryngwhatever voice stopped working for speaking this time. I opened my mouth, then closed it, then shook my head.

"That's okay," she said.

It wasn't. 

"Maybe you can talk to the teacher or the president so they give you another chance."

Speaking of chances, my voice came back. "Yeah, no. The prez snapped at me today because of what I told you earlier."

"Hmm... what if you show her that you care?"

"How?"

"Uh. Um. By saying you're sorry?"

"I'm not, though."

Hanamura, too, looked outside. It'd get dark soon. "I think you are," she said.

"If you say so."

"Even if you're answering like that again."

"It's just lame to get kicked out by a club that's lame by definition."

"It's not. I saw you as the... guy...? During the club fair. I thought you were funny."

"Oh, that." A Pair of Lunatics. I thought it was funny, too. I'd had to fight with whatshisname over the spot of, well, He. The one guy. The club member that'd recruited me had been She. The one girl. It was hard not to laugh during rehearsals, but it's not like I was 'goofing off'. I'd just had fun. That was all. That had been all. "I'm surprised you remember."

"Well. so. You see. I thought about joining, cuz most people there are girls."

I almost laughed. She might've taken it the wrong way, so I didn't. "Hanamura," I began, "How much of, um, a chameleon are you around me? Not just right now. In general."

"Eh..."

"Please be honest."

"...I just don't want you to hate me."

"I don't."

"I know, but that's because I'm, um. Okay, now you'll hate me." She sighed. "Is it okay if I tell you one last story?"