Chapter 8 - Meanwhile - Mizuki's Home (Part 2)

When Mizuki arrived home, her mother was in the living room.

“I'm home.”

“Welcome home, how was school?”

“Good.”

The answer came automatically.

Her mother smiled.

“That's good.”

Mizuki slipped off her shoes and headed toward the stairs.

“I'm going to shower.”

“Don't take too long. Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Okay.”

She carried her bag into her room and placed it on the chair beside her desk.

For a few seconds, she simply stood there.

It had been another ordinary day at her new school.

Mostly.

Then she remembered a certain sound echoing through the second floor of the library.

Her lips twitched.

...

No.

She was not going to laugh again.

Definitely not.

She grabbed a change of clothes and went to the bathroom.

＊ ＊ ＊

A little while later, Mizuki sat in front of the mirror, running a comb through her still-damp hair.

Her new school had been easier to adjust to than she'd expected.

The teachers were kind.

Her classmates were friendly.

She'd already made several friends.

Nothing about transferring had been particularly difficult.

She ran the comb through her hair again.

Then stopped.

For no particular reason, a face appeared in her mind.

A sleeping face.

Then—

WAH—?!

She covered her mouth.

“Pfft.”

The comb lowered.

That poor boy.

She hadn't meant to scare him.

She really hadn't.

She had only gone upstairs because she needed something from one of the rooms near the back of the library.

Then she'd noticed him asleep at the table beside the window.

At first, she'd considered leaving him alone.

Then she'd checked the time.

Their next class was getting close.

So she'd walked over.

Tapped his shoulder.

And somehow nearly caused a school-wide emergency.

She laughed quietly.

“He really screamed...”

Then she remembered what happened afterward.

Everyone teasing him.

The teacher asking what happened.

And his answer.

Weird dream.

Her smile slowly faded into something softer.

He could have told them.

Hanazawa scared me.

That would've been easy.

It would've been true.

And considering how quickly their classmates had turned one scream into the most important event of the afternoon, they probably would've teased her too.

But he hadn't.

He'd taken all of it himself.

Even though they'd barely spoken before that day.

Mizuki resumed combing her hair.

“...He's nice.”

She paused.

Then looked at herself in the mirror.

...

That sounded strange.

She tilted her head.

“Funny.”

Better.

“He's funny.”

Another pause.

“And a little weird.”

Much better.

She continued combing.

For the first few days, she'd thought Haruki Fujimoto was simply quiet.

Not unfriendly.

Just...

distant.

He answered people when they talked to him. Sometimes he joked with the boys near his seat. If somebody asked him for help, he usually helped.

But he almost never approached anyone first.

And then, in the library—

he'd been surprisingly easy to talk to.

Dry.

A little strange.

Much more expressive than she'd expected.

Especially when he was being embarrassed.

She smiled again.

“He's interesting.”

...

The comb stopped.

No.

That sounded worse.

She pointed it at her reflection.

“Funny.”

There.

“Just funny.”

“Funny?”

Mizuki jumped.

Her mother's voice came from downstairs.

“Dinner!”

“...Coming!”

She quickly put down the comb.

＊ ＊ ＊

At the dining table, her mother placed another dish in the center.

“So?”

Mizuki looked up.

“So?”

“You've been there for several days now.”

Her mother sat across from her.

“How's the new school?”

“It's good.”

“You like it?”

Mizuki nodded.

“I do. Everyone's been really welcoming.”

“And the teachers?”

“They're nice.”

“Classmates?”

“Friendly.”

“Already made friends?”

“A few.”

Her mother smiled.

“I knew you would.”

Mizuki took a bite.

“The class is nice. Everyone helped me when I didn't know where something was. One of the girls even showed me around during break.”

“Any difficult subjects?”

“Not really.”

Her mother gave her a look.

Mizuki sighed.

“...Yet.”

“That's more believable.”

She laughed.

They continued eating.

For a while, they talked about ordinary things.

Classes.

Homework.

A teacher whose handwriting Mizuki was still trying to understand.

Then her mother asked casually,

“Anything interesting happen?”

Mizuki stopped chewing.

...

Interesting?

Technically—

“Well...”

Her mother's expression changed immediately.

Mizuki recognized that expression.

It was the expression of someone who had just discovered entertainment.

“There is something.”

“It's nothing.”

“That means there is definitely something.”

“Mom.”

“What?”

Mizuki sighed.

Then, despite herself, smiled.

“There was this boy in my class—”

Her mother's eyebrows rose.

Mizuki immediately pointed her chopsticks at her.

“Not like that.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“Your face did.”

“What did my face say?”

“Something annoying.”

Her mother laughed.

“All right. What about this boy?”

Mizuki told her about the first day.

How the teacher had introduced her.

How the entire class had been listening.

How one boy near the window had finally turned around—

—and sneezed at exactly the worst possible moment.

Her mother laughed.

“During your introduction?”

“Right when I said my name!”

“Oh, poor boy.”

“Everyone stared at him.”

“And you?”

“I...”

Mizuki hesitated.

“I laughed too.”

Her mother laughed harder.

“Mom!”

“I'm sorry.”

“No, you're not.”

“I'm really not.”

Mizuki shook her head.

“Anyway, that wasn't even the worst thing that happened to him.”

“Oh?”

So she told her about the library.

Finding Haruki asleep.

Trying to wake him.

The scream.

The librarian.

Their walk back to the classroom.

Everyone finding out.

And finally—

“He didn't tell them I scared him.”

Her mother tilted her head.

“He didn't?”

Mizuki shook her head.

“When the teacher asked what happened, he just said he'd had a weird dream.”

“That was considerate.”

“Yeah.”

She looked down at her food.

“I thought so too.”

There was a brief silence.

Then—

“You've been smiling this entire time.”

Mizuki's head snapped up.

“What?”

Her mother was smiling at her.

“No, I haven't.”

“You have.”

“I haven't!”

“You are right now.”

Mizuki immediately flattened her expression.

Her mother burst out laughing.

“Mom!”

“I'm only saying he sounds interesting.”

“He's just funny.”

“Ah.”

Mizuki narrowed her eyes.

“What does ‘ah’ mean?”

“Nothing.”

“That was absolutely not a nothing ‘ah.’”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Mom.”

Before Mizuki could interrogate her further, the front door opened.

“I'm home.”

Her face brightened.

“Dad!”

She left her chair and hurried toward the entrance.

Her father had barely finished removing his shoes when she hugged him.

“Welcome home.”

He laughed and patted her head.

“Good day?”

“Yeah.”

“That's good.”

Her mother called from the dining room.

“Perfect timing. Your daughter was just telling me about a boy.”

Mizuki froze.

Her father froze.

...

“Mom.”

Her father slowly looked down at her.

“A boy?”

“It's not like that!”

He looked toward his wife.

Mizuki's mother was trying very hard not to laugh.

Mizuki pointed accusingly at her.

“She's making it sound weird!”

“I only said you told me about a boy.”

“Exactly!”

Her father picked up his bag again.

“All right.”

Mizuki relaxed.

Then he walked toward the dining table.

“I need to hear this.”

“Dad!”

＊ ＊ ＊

Her mother prepared his dinner while the story was told again.

Against Mizuki's wishes.

Including the sneeze.

Especially the scream.

Her father laughed.

“He screamed because you woke him up?”

“I surprised him!”

“How?”

“I was close to his face.”

Her father stopped.

His chopsticks slowly lowered.

“...How close?”

Mizuki blinked.

Her mother laughed.

“That's the part you're worried about?”

“I'm her father. I'm required to ask.”

“Dad!”

He laughed.

“I'm joking.”

“You don't look like you're joking.”

“I'm mostly joking.”

“Dad!”

Her mother was enjoying this far too much.

Her father took another bite.

Then his expression softened.

“But he didn't tell the class it was you?”

“No.”

“Hm.”

Mizuki looked at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“That sounded exactly like Mom's ‘ah.’”

Her mother immediately laughed.

“I told you!”

Her father looked between them.

“I have no idea what's happening.”

“Good.”

He continued eating.

Then said,

“He sounds like a decent kid.”

Mizuki blinked.

“From that?”

“Small things tell you something about people.”

Her mother nodded.

“He could've saved himself some embarrassment by blaming you.”

“But he didn't,” her father continued. “Even though you'd barely spoken before that.”

Mizuki looked down.

“...Yeah.”

Her father smiled.

“If you're interested in becoming friends with him, then become friends.”

She looked up.

“Huh?”

He shrugged.

“You said he's funny.”

“I didn't say I wanted to—”

“Your mother said you've been smiling.”

“MOM!”

Her mother burst out laughing.

Her father joined her.

Mizuki covered her face.

“I regret telling either of you anything.”

Her father laughed.

“I'm serious, though.”

She peeked through her fingers.

“You're new there,” he continued. “It's good to know different kinds of people. You don't always have to wait for someone else to approach you first.”

Mizuki slowly lowered her hands.

“I know.”

“And if he seems like someone you'd enjoy talking to, talk to him.”

She poked at her food with her chopsticks.

“We've only talked once.”

“Then talk twice.”

Mizuki stared at him.

Her mother nodded thoughtfully.

“Excellent mathematics.”

“Thank you.”

“You two are impossible.”

Her father smiled.

“Besides, anyone who can sneeze during an introduction and scream inside a library sounds entertaining.”

“Dad!”

“What? That's impressive.”

Her mother laughed again.

Mizuki tried to look annoyed.

She failed.

Because she was smiling too.

＊ ＊ ＊

Later that evening, Mizuki sat at her desk.

Her homework was finished.

Her bag was packed.

But something her father had said remained in her mind.

You don't always have to wait for someone else to approach you first.

She leaned back in her chair.

Haruki hadn't done anything extraordinary.

He'd woken up.

Screamed.

Argued with her about the distance between their faces.

Failed to know her first name.

And somehow managed to become the main topic of her dinner conversation.

She covered her face with both hands.

“Why did I tell them so much...?”

There was no answer.

Probably because the story was funny.

That was all.

She lowered her hands.

Then remembered something else.

Weird dream.

He really could have blamed her.

Instead, he'd shrugged it off.

Mizuki opened one of the drawers of her desk.

Inside were pens, small notebooks, ribbons, and several pieces of candy.

She picked one up.

Turned it between her fingers.

“A thank-you?”

She stared at it.

Maybe that was unnecessary.

He hadn't done anything expecting a reward.

And handing a boy she'd spoken to exactly once a present might look strange.

She imagined herself walking up to his desk.

Here. This is because you didn't tell everyone I almost scared you to death.

...

No.

Absolutely not like that.

She laughed quietly.

Still—

a piece of candy wasn't really a present.

It was just candy.

People gave people candy all the time.

Probably.

She placed it on her desk.

Then picked it up again.

“Tomorrow?”

Maybe.

Or another day.

She wasn't sure.

She looked toward her school bag.

Then back at the candy.

Her father's words returned.

You don't always have to wait for someone else to approach you first.

Mizuki sighed.

“You're making this sound much more serious than it is.”

Her father wasn't there.

That didn't stop her from blaming him.

She opened the front pocket of her school bag.

Dropped the candy inside.

Then immediately stared at it.

...

There.

Done.

That didn't mean she had to give it to him.

She could eat it herself tomorrow.

Yes.

That was an option.

A completely reasonable option.

She closed the pocket.

For some reason, she remembered Haruki's expression when she'd discovered he didn't know her first name.

There were circumstances involving a sneeze.

Mizuki laughed softly.

“He really is funny.”

She switched off her desk lamp and stood.

Tomorrow, maybe she'd talk to him again.

Nothing strange about that.

They were classmates, after all.

And apparently—

he was easier to talk to than she'd expected.

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