XXI. sharing an umbrella under the rain

Hanamura dyed her hair against her grandparents' consent the day before high school started. It was the start of her rebellious phase. It was also the end because they threatened to call her parents and she had to beg and cry on the floor for hours lest they actually go through with this. Still, it gave her a warm sense of confidence. Strawberry blond was a pretty color. She'd been practicing makeup tutorials for a while now. Both things should and would compliment her well. Maybe.

After she gave the speech and went to class, the unspeakable happened: a girl spoke to her. A g-g-girl spoke. To her. 

"I'm not sure what you're thinking," Hanamura said, "but based on that expression, it's nothing good."

"I'm planning on teaching you how to talk to women. The first step is to—"

"Fuck you."

Then I laughed. 

Point was, before getting interrupted, thank you very much, that she could finally talk to g-g-girls now. It wasn't really that hard. It's not as though they were fundamentally different. If anything, it'd felt silly to stress all those years over such a non-issue. She had girl friends now, and that was what mattered. 

However, one thing lead to another. It started out small, when she said she might have a foreigner ancestor somewhere. Since she'd always gotten good grades in English, things... got out of hand, so to say. The fake boyfriend idea was actually the idea of her neighbor friend thing. Apparently the same plan in reverse backfired for him, too. 

"Yuki was the one who found out about the fake profile. I'd always gotten the feeling that she hated me for some... hmm... never mind. i think she hates me because of the speech thing. Um. Just to clarify, you never told her I was annoying, right?"

"I didn't, no."

Hanamura said nothing. 

"Like I said, I wouldn't talk to you if you annoyed me."

"Why did you invite me here, out of curiosity? Me, of all people?"

"...others were busy."

"Others? Your friends?"

"Yeah."

Out of all possible reactions, the last thing I expected was a smile. It was too warm; I had to look away. Hanamura told me: "You still considered me, so. Thank you."

"It pisses me off that people would treat you this way," I admitted. "There's so many others doing worse shit all the time, but no. They're fine. They'll always be fine."

"It's like that everywhere."

"Maybe."

And it wasn't as though Hanamura hadn't lived it before. The problem was that, for some reason, as easy as it was to adapt to the good things, one could never adapt to the bad. She'd eaten lunch on her own hundreds of times as a child, yet all it took was one meal with friends to want to forget. Never again—never again would she hide among the bushes to eat on her own. That's how it should've been, anyway.

As for me, while I couldn't say I'd eaten inside a bush before, I'd seen my friends play after I couldn't do so anymore. The more I sat next to the field as they practiced, the more it weighed, and even when I spaced out my visits, that thing in my chest wouldn't leave. It wouldn't. It didn't. I stopped going altogether. Nothing. Even now, it came back as though it were the first time.  

"I haven't told my grandparents about this, obviously," she said. "My friends know, but not... all the details. So yeah. It's my fault and I know that, that it's my fault. I know that. I'm not complaining."

"You can," I said.

Hanamura shook her head. "I thought..."

"You thought...?"

Going to Tokyo could've been an option, but then it would've been more of the same. Besides, she didn't have any relatives there, and traveling two hours by train every day sounded existentially torturous. (To me.)  

Sure, eventually, people would've started to talk to her once more. With time, perhaps she'd even have girl friends again. She'd go to college and it'd all be a cautionary tale. In the grand scheme of things, this was nothing. 

"But... still."

"I get it," I said.  

"I uh. Had to follow you to figure out how to keep talking to you."

"Or. OR. You could've just said hi." 

"I needed a plan."

"That plan is called saying hi." 

"Hi."

"Hi. See? It's not that hard. Legends say that if you say 'hi' to girls, they might do the same to you. You don't need killing or stalking or lying or any of that shit." 

It'd gotten dark. The landscape. "About the theater thingy..."

"It's over."

"Why not let me help you choose a song later? But I mean. Both of us? Choosing. Listening, maybe. If you do a good job tomorrow I'm sure they'll let you back in."

"They won't."

"You should try."

"Why do you care so much, anyway?" I asked. "It's none of your business. And if you reply with something like 'because you talked to me', I'll—"

"Because you talked to me."

"—knew it."

She shrugged.

"It's late," I said. "You said you live close by, so I'll walk you home. I guess I could sing something on the—"

"YE—sure."

Subtle. "It's nothing impressive, believe me." 

We paid. We left. It was dark. It drizzled. If I took a bath right after this chill and the killer air conditioner at the coffee shop, the ensuing cold would be cataclysmic. I'd still do it, just not for as long as usual, not as scalding. Which sucked. Baths kept me going. 

I took out the ketchup umbrella from my backpack. It barely covered enough for one person, let alone two, but it was theoretically better than nothing. After browsing through her phone for an unimportant amount of time, Hanamura showed me her screen. "Try this one."

That was the one I'd fucked up earlier. "Uh."

"If it's embarrassing, I'll sing along with you. We're almost there, so."

"...if you want."

She didn't sound terrible. Since she'd just gone for it, I... oh, whatever. I joined in. Poorly vocalizing while sharing an umbrella under the rain wasn't something I thought I'd ever do. When she stopped walking, so did I. Since she kept singing, so did I. Under the dim streetlights, the cold, the illusion of a dream, it was so, so easy. 

"Hoo, boy, thought I'd have to chase cats getting it on again."

Too easy. Hanamura tugged the umbrella so it covered her face which, of course, caused me to lose my balance. Thankfully (?) she was sturdier than she looked, for she merely stumbled at the contact. "Sorry," I managed. "I'll—"

She curled an arm around my shoulders, thus hiding us both behind the umbrella.

Okay.

"So, Kumi."

"Go away," Hanamura squeaked. I saw nothing but red. Literally. If I saw anything but red, it'd be pink, from her dress or what existed under. Very nice. Very g-g-girl of her. 

"Is that the g—"

"SHOO!"

"Jeez, fine. Just shut up, please. Mom actually thought you guys were cats getting it on."

"You're a cat getting it on. Go away."

That was probably the guy from before, the... G-kun. Anyway, he go'd away. Hanamura held me hostage. I could think of worse ways to pass time. Still, I had to go home at some point. So. "I feel something soft and warm on my arm," I declared.

"Hm. My boob."

Right, I forgot who I talked to. 

"You're also soft and warm, just so you know."

"...please release me. This is highly uncomfortable."

"Really?"

"I just got compared to a tit."

She let me go. She gave me the umbrella. "Fine," she said. "Anyway, the, um. The song."

"Yes."

"Do you want to. Later?"

I guessed what'd just happened had finally begun to sink in. "Sure," I said.

"Tomorrow?"

"Uh, tomorrow what?"

"Apology."

"Fine." I held back a sneeze with the back of my hand. I'd gone, after all, from warm and soft to the cold bites of the drizzle. Hanamura was a bizarre creature, so of course this didn't seem to affect her. "Let's go before we catch a cold." 

"Okay. See you later, then... senpai?"

"Saku is fine."

She >:3'd. "Then you can call me Wakumi. See you later, S... a... bye."

She disappeared into the night. Literally.

Into the night, I replied, "See you later, Wa..." then I supposed it didn't matter since she'd left already. 

Alone, under the drizzle, under the red umbrella, I made my way back home, humming the song to myself.