CH 22

One early summer holiday afternoon.

“………”

“………”

We’ve been sitting across from each other around a small table in the room for over ten minutes now—

Rumi and I kept our silence while averting our gaze from each other.

(A-awkward…)

Rumi Nagata is the second daughter of the Nagata family, located three train stations away.

She started distancing herself from me around the second grade when my obesity became more serious, and we haven’t had a real conversation in about seven years since then.

I didn’t know what the right thing to do would be when someone like that suddenly called me into her room.

(Should I initiate a conversation?…? Think, there must be something to talk about…!)

I looked around Rumi’s room for clues.

It was very tidy, there wasn’t a single piece of rubbish on the floor and it smelled really good.

It was exactly like a girl’s room, decorated with cute knick-knacks and stuffed animals.

I almost cried out of pity for myself when I thought that Saika must be holding back from buying these cute things because of the small amount of money I give her.

But this is no time to be depressed.

As usual, Rumi looked great with her beautifully dyed blonde hair and pretty frilly clothes.

She would certainly be the talk of the school, as a pretty girl.

I miss the old days when Rumi was indistinguishable from boys when she had short black hair and I used to chastise the little punks who made fun of her for it.

Now that she has become such a beauty, it’s hard to understand how people grow up.

—In the end, not knowing what to start a conversation with, I took a cup of tea and some expensive-looking sweets prepared in front of me to pass time.

“… Tea, you’re out of tea? Here, give me your cup. I’ll make you one.”

Then an event finally occurred and the story progressed…

It scares me that the first thing she said wasn’t an insult, but on the other hand…

I immediately thanked her while bracing myself to crawl on the floor because there’s a chance she’ll pour it on the floor and say, “Here, lick it off.”

“Oh, thank you! Haha, it’s a really good tea. I especially like Darjeeling.”

Not wanting to miss the opportunity, I quickly moved the conversation along, and Rumi responded by pouring tea into my cup with a beautiful gesture that could have graced a masterpiece.

“Ara? I didn’t expect Ruka to know so much about tea.”

“The senior member of the club (Ajiro-senpai) lets me drink various kinds of black tea, so I’ve learned the taste of it, that’s all.”

“Is that so, what a wonderful senior. I’m not very good at brewing, so I might not be able to compare.”

“Don’t worry, it tastes great. And I don’t want to waste a single drop of it…”

While thanking Ajiro-senpai for what she did which led to me being able to continue the conversation with Rumi, I was inwardly astonished at the simple conversation.

(She just called me by my name, right?)

I remembered…or rather, it was a miracle that I was able to have a normal conversation with her.

She still doesn’t make eye contact, but it was a big step forward for humanity.

“………”

“………”

But in the end, silence came again.

I was so confused that I scratched my forehead with my index finger, and Rumi suddenly widened her eyes and grabbed my hand.

Then she ruffles my hair in dismay and lets out a sigh.

“I guess that scar on your forehead from that time still remains…”

“—Ah.”

And she found out.

I had a small scar on my forehead.

This was the scar I got in the first grade when I was swimming desperately to save Rumi, who had been swept away while playing in the river, and cut myself deep on a rock.

I hid it in case Rumi didn’t mind, but apparently she caught a glimpse of it when I scratched my forehead.

“… It doesn’t make any difference to me if I have a scar on my face or not, so don’t worry about it. It’s hidden by my hair and barely noticeable.”

“If Ruka hadn’t saved me back then, I might have died.”

“I’m sorry I reminded you of something horrible. I even made you see a lot of blood.”

“… Why are you apologizing, Ruka?”

I wondered if her trauma from childhood is still there.

Rumi stared at my forehead with a sad look on her face as if she was remembering the horror of that time.

I’m so sorry.

And so the infernal tea party continued.