Episode 24: Day One of the Trip, and Hell Continues
“Morning! Hanamori-san, you’re early!”
I could tell it was Hanamori from a distance, purely from the dark aura radiating off her.
As bright and breezy as I could manage, full smile plastered on, I called out to the figure standing in front of the ticket gate.
I knew it’d be awkward. But there was no way I could spend an entire day drowning in that heavy air.
So I made an effort, greeting her with about thirty percent more energy than usual.
“…”
What came back was a small nod and silence.
She wouldn’t even meet my eyes. Hanamori kept her gaze fixed on her phone, treating my existence as though it didn’t register at all.
Eh? Seriously, full silent treatment?
Just a few days ago we’d been talking normally.
If this were the old Hanamori, she’d probably have snapped something like “You’re late” by now.
“Well, let’s head to the shinkansen platform.”
My own voice rang out, hollow. Hanamori dragged her suitcase and started walking without a word.
A flicker of irritation, despite myself.
Sure, I’ll admit I was in the wrong. But had I really done enough to deserve being ignored this thoroughly?
We’re adults here, she could meet me halfway a little too.
I’d made an effort to greet her, at least.
Watching Hanamori’s back as she walked ahead of me, I let out a small sigh.
We sat next to each other in our reserved shinkansen seats.
Hanamori by the window, me on the aisle. Physically close, but psychologically, the distance felt farther than Tokyo to Osaka.
“Hey, so, Hanamori-san—”
The moment I tried to speak, Hanamori put her earbuds in.
A complete shutdown of conversation.
Come on, seriously? Does it really need to go this far?
I gave up and looked out the window on my own side instead.
The shinkansen pulled out. Scenery streaming past.
A chill drifting over. Not from the AC. This chill was coming off Hanamori.
Both of us, treating each other like empty air. Well, I did try to talk to her, and got shut out for it.
I caught Hanamori’s profile reflected in the window. Expressionless, completely unreadable.
Haah. This trip is really shaping up to be something.
“Hey, want a snack?”
About an hour in, I tried again. What I pulled out of my bag was a bag of chips from the station kiosk.
I vaguely remembered Hanamori once saying she wasn’t actually great with sweets. So I’d picked the salty kind.
Hanamori slowly took out one earbud and looked over at me. Her eyes were cold.
“…No thanks.”
A simple refusal. Her expression looked deeply put out.
Excuse me? I offer a snack and get a face like that? It’s not poisoned or anything.
Something in my chest gave a sharp sting. So this is what it feels like to be rejected.
Hanamori’s brattiness, I could handle fine. If anything, it’s what made conversation fun.
But this indifference is different. It’s a complete shutout.
I don’t think I’ve ever been treated this coldly before. Realizing that someone could dislike me this openly made it hard to breathe, somehow.
“…I’m gonna go to the restroom for a bit.”
I made the announcement to no one in particular, since Hanamori clearly wasn’t listening, and stood up from my seat.
I just needed to get away from this suffocating air.
I couldn’t take the chill radiating off Hanamori, or that cold stare, anymore.
As I stood, Hanamori’s shoulder seemed to shift, just slightly. But I couldn’t bring myself to look back.
The shinkansen restroom. Cramped, but just being away from that prickling tension made it easier to breathe.
“Haah…”
I let out a long breath.
I stared at my own reflection in the mirror. My eyes were a little glassy.
Why am I this down about this.
She’s just a junior coworker. Calculating, boy-crazy, cold to me, bratty.
But by now, that brattiness had started to feel comfortable.
I liked the kind of relationship where we could bicker and still laugh.
Was I the only one who felt that way?
Was there no going back to how things were?
My chest throbbed, dull and aching.
I let out a breath and stood up, and just as I pulled up my suit pants—
*
RRRRIIIP! TEAR!!
“Eh.”
The sound of fabric ripping. A fairly dramatic sound. From the seat area. To be precise, from the seat of my suit pants.
I checked in the mirror, tentatively.
My suit pants had torn, shockingly badly. Split clean in two, right across the seat.
My underwear was fully visible through the tear.
And of all days, today, for some reason, I’d picked that color.
…No, let’s not go there. Not the color.
If I went back to my seat like this, my underwear would be completely exposed. Hanamori would see it.
Actually, other passengers on the train might see it too.
What do I do.
Why today, of all days. Of all days, on the one day I’m on a trip with Hanamori in this god-awful atmosphere.
God, are you giving me too many trials in one day?
First a total silent treatment from Hanamori, now my pants exploding and exposing my underwear.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
A ridiculous sight: both hands pressed to the seat of my pants, desperately trying to cover it.
*
The worst.
And the day’s barely even started.
Hanamori’s cold expression kept replaying in my head.
Having to explain this situation to that face. Just imagining it made my stomach hurt.
I was scared she’d calmly treat me like a total stranger with those cold eyes.
The heartache from a moment ago vanished instantly.
Now I was on the verge of tears for a completely different reason.