Episode 41 — iOs — Alien

Something is a little off about Shion today. Not that she isn’t usually enigmatic, with the true meaning of her words often just out of reach — but today it’s particularly pronounced.

Right now she’s sitting on my lap, murmuring quietly.

“Summer break starts tomorrow.”
“It does.”

Today was the closing ceremony, so lessons ended earlier than usual, and the music room is wrapped in midday light. Even after listening to Shion’s playing at more leisure than usual, we still had time left to spare — and beyond that, summer break stretched ahead of us.

Into that expanse of summer possibility, Shion keeps offering her wishes.

“I want to spend lots of summer break with you, Uta. Everything outside lesson time — I want it all to be time with you.”
“R — right.”

Once again I can’t handle the feeling or the arrow pointed my way, and deflect with vague agreement. Today had been like this all day — Shion producing these sudden whispers, little-devil murmurs that invited misreading, one after another. My body is hot, my thoughts are a jumble, and all I can do is hide it and deflect.

Also — not that it’s new — she’s been particularly close today. Grabbing my hand without warning, and just now, the moment she finished playing, sitting straight onto my lap without even asking how I found it.

Shion always feels smooth against my skin — but the air conditioning in the old building is feeble, and pressed this close, it’s warm. Shion’s words have been making me hot too, which doesn’t help. And unusually, the faintest dampness has settled on Shion’s back.

“N — never mind that. Aren’t you hot?”
“I am.”

Saying that, Shion presses her body closer still. Her slightly damp back finds my face. And yet there’s no smell of sweat at all — if anything, I’m finding Shion’s scent closer than usual, and finding it pleasant.

That might be a little strange of me. And quietly concealed behind my strangeness, Shion’s words and actions have been contradicting themselves shamelessly.

I lean back and point out the contradiction.

“If you’re hot, why are you pressing closer?”
“Does Uta not want to be close to me?”

We’ve had this exchange before. I have no idea what the right answer is — neither the socially acceptable answer nor the one Shion is actually looking for — so I settle for something noncommittal.

“It’s not that I mind…”
“I like it.”

Saying that, she suddenly reverses direction and hugs me head-on. The wooden chair groans.

“Wh — what’s got into you?”
“Like.”

Ignoring my question and offering only the feeling. Squeezing me with all her strength. The sight of it brought to mind a film I’d seen as a small child — the one with the little girl who flings herself at the boy and declares:

“I like Sōsuke — !”

The problem, though, is that Shion doesn’t come with just that childlike quality alone. She also comes with an otherworldly beauty, a figure, a sweet scent — every variety of thing that is bad for the heart.

Probably — Shion having her first friend, having spent so long alone with music — she’s simply glad to have someone to depend on. Her mother being so strict must have made that kind of softness difficult. So she’s releasing it now, with me.

And honestly, I don’t mind being leaned on. If anything, I’m glad that her first time leaning on someone is with me — there’s even something like pride in it, that someone as beautiful and gifted as Shion turns to me before anyone else. A faint, private satisfaction.

That I feel my own worth go up from being relied on by Shion — I’m a little ashamed of that. Even so, I can’t stop it. The moment our skin touches and warmth mingles — I can’t suppress my heartbeat.

My thoughts overflow and won’t stop. And yet Shion’s touch and words keep arriving in waves. She really is a little different today. As though trying to transmit something to me, she keeps reaching for different words, different approaches.

“I like that our straps match. I like having you on my screen.”

This time she pulls her phone from her bag beside her, waves it in front of me as if showing it off. The strap sways with the motion. The screen blinks on and off — and in those flashes, the two of us are there.

“Don’t you?”

I tilt my head, unable to catch her meaning at the sudden change of subject.

Shion’s expression shifts to something displeased — a small crease between her brows within the usual blankness.

“Take your phone out, Uta.”
“Oh — okay.”

I do as I’m told and take out my phone. And then, again:

“I want to spend lots of summer break with you, Uta?”

Again showing me her phone screen, she murmurs — nearly the same words as before. Her intention still unclear to me.

“R — right?”

I tilt my head again, still not understanding — and Shion’s expression crumbles suddenly into something sad.

“Uta, you idiot — !”

The warmth left me.

Shion looked straight at me as she said it, stood up — and in her eyes, the faintest shimmer of tears.

“What — what’s wrong? Are you all right?”

I rose too, chasing the warmth that had left, took her hand, and asked in a rush.

“Nothing’s wrong.”
“But you’re crying…”

When I pointed it out carefully — as if that was the first she’d noticed it herself — Shion wiped the tears with her free hand, those pure white fingertips, and then, as if letting something true spill from them, cheeks flushing, body shrinking slightly, she answered:

“I wanted to be able to LINE you… I wanted to exchange contact details…”

And with that, she thrust her messaging app screen at me. In the friends column — a single name, her mother’s — and I stared at that screen in stunned silence.

“If that’s what you wanted, you could have just said so from the start…”

I murmured it, as if making excuses. And then:

“But I wanted you to say it… it felt lonely, like I was the only one who wanted to be together with you. Like I was the only one who liked you this much… so. I wanted you to be the one to suggest it… to invite me…”

Shion said it in a voice on the verge of disappearing, shy and ashamed — and the voice trembled with tears.

So I hurried to work my phone, tapped the LINE icon I almost never open, and said:

“Let’s exchange! I want to be able to reach you, Shion — !”

Trying to soothe her, trying to win back her good mood — and:

“It doesn’t make me happy when you only say it after I said it first.”

She turned her face away. But the hand holding the phone screen was still extended toward me.

“I’m sorry. But even so — I really do want to exchange.”

That was no kind of lie, so I said it — and perhaps that sincerity reached her, just a little.

“If you want to, then fine.”

Face still averted, Shion murmured it quietly.

I wrestled with the unfamiliar process, and finally, after some struggle, completed the friend request.

The confirmation appeared on screen.

“There — I added you.”

I leaned to look at her face as I returned her phone. Shion saw the screen and her expression lit up all at once — she pressed the phone to her chest like something precious.

And then, softly, she said:

“Uta, you idiot.”

— Wait, why?