Episode 4: The Truth in the Raindrops
This morning, Hanamori was talking with Yokogawa-san, a third-year employee from planning.
Yokogawa has the athletic build of a sportsman, a boyishly handsome face, and a bright, easygoing personality that makes him popular around the office.
“Ehh, Yokogawa-san, you’re kind of like that, huh~. Fufu.”
Hanamori laughed and lightly smacked Yokogawa’s arm.
The physical contact was intense. Blatant, even.
“You should take me out to eat sometime~”
Hanamori said it with a saccharine expression, and Yokogawa answered with something, clearly not displeased. His ears were red. Surprisingly easy, Yokogawa.
I sat at my desk sorting paperwork, watching the scene out of the corner of my eye.
My expression was completely deadpan.
(There she goes again.)
(And here I thought she was all about Tamura. Guess not.)
The other male staff in sales were also sneaking glances at Hanamori. An audience for the Hanamori Theater. I suppose I’m the jaded viewer sitting front row.
“Hanamori-san, let’s head out.”
“Yes sir~! I’m off. See you later, Yokogawa-san!”
Hanamori waved playfully at Yokogawa and fell in behind me.
She kept the tone going all the way until we left the floor.
The moment we stepped into the elevator—
Hanamori’s expression went completely dead. Along with a deep sigh.
The lightness in her voice, all of it, gone.
Like an appliance with the switch flipped off.
Facing forward, I caught the change out of the corner of my eye.
At this point, the gap between her modes has stopped irritating me and started making me want to laugh.
An enclosed space.
Just the two of us.
Only the quiet hum of the descending elevator filled the silence.
Hanamori crossed her arms, staring fixedly at the panel as the numbers ticked down.
—That moment came back to me.
That night. The kiss. Hanamori’s face.
The softness of her lips.
(Ugh, god, why am I remembering this now…)
(Forget it. Forget it.)
But it wouldn’t go away.
Hanamori, standing beside me, felt strangely close. Her sweet, peach-like perfume seemed nearer than usual. It’s just my imagination. It has to be just my imagination.
The elevator reached the first floor.
The doors opened, outside air flowing in.
Hanamori stepped out first without a word. I followed.
Neither of us said anything all the way to the parking lot.
We reached the car, opened the doors.
Hanamori sat in the passenger seat without a word and immediately pulled out her phone.
Eyes glued to the screen, not looking at me at all.
Her thumb swiped furiously. Probably scrolling some social media app.
I said nothing and started the car.
Out on our rounds, the sky turned an ugly color.
Blazing sun until noon, and the next moment, a guerrilla downpour so heavy you couldn’t see past the windshield.
The wipers were fighting a losing battle, almost pitiably so.
“Wow, this rain’s brutal.”
“The worst.”
Hanamori murmured from the passenger seat.
Her real voice. Completely unguarded.
“We’ve got time before the next visit, let’s just wait it out in the car.”
“Okay… isn’t that thunder kind of scary though?”
“Should be fine as long as we’re in the car.”
“I’m just not great with thunder, in general…”
“Guess there’s no one around right now to go ‘~thunder’s so scaaary♡’ and act cute at.”
“What. Are you making fun of me?”
I teased her lightly, doing a falsetto impression of her high-pitched voice, and Hanamori spat back flatly, staring blankly out through the windshield.
Her usual rhythm gone, her voice strangely unguarded.
Only the sound of rain filled the car.
The red of the traffic light blurred and wavered against the wet glass.
I opened the can coffee I’d bought at the convenience store earlier. Mine’s black. Hanamori’s is café au lait. Somehow even that choice feels like it says something about a person.
“So, like, Asami-san.”
Hanamori suddenly turned to me.
“You don’t seem like the type to say what you actually think to anyone.”
“…Huh?”
I looked at her, caught off guard.
“Ah, it’s not an insult or anything. Just, people who have it all together always seem like they’re wearing their ‘public face.’”
“I mean, we’re working adults… isn’t that just how it is?”
At a loss for how to respond, I gave a vague smile.
“See, that.”
“What.”
“That, brushing it off all vague like that. Feels like you’ve got thick walls up.”
Lightning flashed outside.
I searched for something to say back, but nothing came.
I wanted to argue, but Hanamori’s eyes were unexpectedly direct, none of her usual lightness in them, and the words caught in my throat.
“…What about you, Hanamori-san—”
“I’m the type who says what she thinks and gets hated for it.”
“You’re self-aware about that.”
“Very much so.”
Hanamori took a sip of her café au lait and looked out the window.
“I’ve been the odd one out since way back in school.”
“…Huh?”
“Because I was cute.”
(Don’t say that about yourself.)
I thought, but stayed quiet. Didn’t even have the energy to call her out on it.
“I was the type to just say things bluntly. The girls in my class probably didn’t like that about me.”
“Hm.”
“So even now, I pretty much know how to go after guys, how to push things forward with them.”
Hanamori gave a small laugh. Self-deprecating.
“But like, how to close the distance with women, how to make friends with them… I don’t really get that. I’m bad at it.”
Outside, the rain had eased a little, but it was still coming down in a steady drizzle.
I couldn’t say anything.
I hadn’t expected Hanamori to talk about something like this.
Or rather, I hadn’t expected her to make a face like that.
Her profile, reflected in the window, looked strangely quiet and lonely.
Her usual calculated cuteness stripped away, an unguarded expression.
That face left a far stronger impression on me than her words had.
“…Ah, looks like it’s letting up. The rain.”
Hanamori’s voice pulled me back.
I looked outside; the rain had weakened.
“You’re right. Well, let’s get going then.”
“Yeah.”
As I started the car, a thought crossed my mind.
—The distance between Hanamori and me feels closer than before.
I want to think it’s just my imagination.
But something in me was unsettled.