Sleeping Beauty, Infiltrates. Part 2

“Sorry if I got the wrong idea. Did you actually start appreciating art?”

“No. It was more enjoyable than I expected, though.”

“What a shame.”

She didn’t seem particularly disappointed, probably because she wasn’t being entirely serious.

“Well, I’ll carry on then. Like I said before, don’t worry. Ame and I are just friends.”

“Friends?”

　Had my suspicion shown that much on my face?
Yomi-san gave a wry smile and propped her elbows on the table.

“I know Ame would never cheat. Don’t worry.”

She probably didn’t mean anything by it, but being told “I know” like that made my heart bristle.
I know perfectly well that Shigure-san isn’t that kind of person.

“It’s not like I seriously doubted…”

“Even though you were secretly tailing her?”

Yomi chuckled softly.
Ugh.
Ah, bloody hell, I really can’t handle this person. It’s awkward.
Honestly, I’m good at attacking, but when it comes to defence, I’m hopeless.
This won’t do. I need to switch to the offensive.

“Really, is that all?”

“Hm?”

“I heard you were her former flatmate. What did you think of Shigure-san?”

“I liked her.”

The answer I’d expected came back so casually I was speechless.

“I liked her. I always wanted to be special to her.”

“Special…”

I couldn’t press further about what that meant because Yomi-san’s face was so utterly still.
Her eyes were like those of a devout believer gazing upon something sacred.

“Ever since the day we first met, Ame has been my special one.”

Her earnest tone threatened to overwhelm me.

“You see… I didn’t get into my first-choice art university.”

“Is that so?”

“Truthfully, I wanted to attend a national art university. But I failed, so I reluctantly enrolled at Kaimei. That’s why I was so disillusioned right after starting – I’d lost sight of why I painted.”

“I saw online that you’re an active artist now.”

“An artist’s success is mostly down to luck.”

I sensed this wasn’t false modesty, but her genuine belief. Whether it was true or not was beside the point.
But if someone asked me why ‘Charles’ succeeded, I might answer “luck” too.
　Even knowing about Hiname and the others’ efforts woven into daily life, or Manager Motomura’s probably excessive overtime hours, I’d still say it was ‘luck’.

“My parents wouldn’t let me take a gap year, but I desperately wanted to go to art college, so I put in a fair amount of effort. But it didn’t work out. That’s when I burned out.”

I understood, just a little.
The more seriously you commit, the more the fear of not being rewarded grows.
　That relentless pressure can fuel tremendous energy, but the backlash can wound both mind and body.
I know that feeling too.

“That’s when I met Ame. The one who gave water to my parched soul. My gentle Ame.”

Yomi-san looked up at the oil painting hanging on the wall.
　A landscape, perhaps? Not some incomprehensible modern art, but a painting easily understood even by an amateur like me.
Against a dusky, indigo-toned backdrop of evening streets, a woman stood alone, gazing up at the sky.
The colour palette alone conveyed it. Rain was falling on this town.
Yet, strangely, it was a bright painting.
A serene spring rain scene, devoid of melancholy or misfortune.

“Ame, you see, praised my painting. ‘It’s amazing,’ she said. ‘It’s cool.’”

Like a soliloquy.

“I’d been painting all along for Ame. For Ame. To have Ame praise it. That was the only reason I painted.”

Yomi-san continued, her words coming in scattered bursts.

“It saved me. When facing a blank canvas, the mere fact that even one person was looking forward to its completion… how deeply that lifted my spirits…”

“I understand.”

I hadn’t meant to, but I found myself nodding.
Hurriedly, I added.

“Well, I was an idol, you see. I know first-hand how precious fans can be.”

“Fans…”

“Did I say something off?”

“No.”

Yomi shook her head.

“That’s right. Back then, Ame was my only fan. I just assumed she was my fan.”

She said it with a face like she was chewing on something bitter.

“Even when we ate celebratory cake after winning an award, I believed she was just genuinely happy for me. I never imagined Ame might feel anything else.”

She exhaled, almost mockingly.

“Well, of course it couldn’t last. In the end, I took advantage of Ame’s kindness and misunderstood. I was deluded, thinking I was the only special one.”

Her gaze turned towards me.
　I felt silently questioned.
What about you?
Me.
──I should be different.
I don’t just think about being satisfied myself; I think about giving.
I try to be equal.
So I’m not misunderstanding. I’m not conceited.
　I understand perfectly well that Shigure-san is a kind person.
But.
The reason I find myself wondering, ‘Really?’ is surely because Shigure-san is too kind.
Boundless kindness resembles love, making it impossible to tell them apart.
How great a difference is there between what Shigure-san gave to Yomi-san and what he gave to me?
Or perhaps, compared to what she gives to Hiname or Shizuku?
I grow frightened by my own imagination.
　What if there was no difference at all?
What if Shigure-san was simply being kind to me, equally and fairly, just as he is to everyone else?
What if he was only staying with me because he felt sorry for me, unable to sleep?
That wouldn’t be love or affection anymore, would it? It would be pity or compassion, something like that.
The timer rang.

“Time’s up. Any last questions?”

“Do you still like Shigure-san?”

At the blunt question, Yomi-san gave a faint smile.

“Ame will always be special to me. But I don’t want to date her anymore.”

“…Well, you were acting awfully suspicious yesterday, though.”

“I just remembered a bit of my dark past.”

“She muttered quietly, probably because I had mentioned a ‘one-night stand’ or something.
I didn’t understand what she was talking about.