Episode 4

I couldn’t focus on work at all for the rest of the afternoon. I considered leaving early on the grounds of feeling unwell, but slipping out right after that would draw attention, and faking illness isn’t something I like to do.

Even at a time like this, I can’t help finding a way to avoid making waves. I’m sick of myself for it.

I hear the end-of-day chime — the one I usually register as something that happens to other people — gather my things, and drift out of the office. I thought I heard a voice behind me, but there was no sign of anyone following, so I let it go.

Thirty minutes by train with a transfer. Ten minutes on foot from the nearest station. Not exactly far, but not close either.

Normally the shops along the shopping street would catch my eye, but today none of it registers. Without stopping anywhere, I let myself into my building and through the auto-lock.

“I’m home.”

I drop my bag into the corner of the room like I’m throwing something away, and fall face-first onto the bed without changing. A good thing there were no important meetings today — I don’t want creases in the jacket I save for when it matters.

I want to fall asleep just like this, but I also don’t want tomorrow to arrive before I’ve gotten my thoughts in order. My makeup isn’t off yet either.

Then again — will my thoughts actually come together? I suspect even if I think it through, nothing will change. Morning will come and everything will be exactly as it was.

Ichikawa Seriha.

A new recruit two years my junior, assigned here last summer. Her looks are idol-level — or beyond — and she always has people around her; she’s that kind of person, a natural centre of gravity. Well-liked, pleasant, apparently capable at her job too.

My dealings with her up to now have amounted to the odd email exchange. Passing each other in the corridor and exchanging a quick greeting. Probably nothing beyond that.

Ichikawa Seriha. Ichikawa Seriha. I dig through my memory trying to work out if we’ve crossed paths somewhere before.

Kindergarten, primary school, middle school, high school, university…

Her given name is unusual enough that I don’t think I’d have forgotten it.

Her appearance — even more so. A girl that striking: even if we’d been in different year groups, the chance to know of her would inevitably have come. There were popular, pretty girls in every era of my life, but none of them were anything like her.

Though then again — even if I had known her at some point, how would that connect to any of this? Nobody does what she’s done simply because they happened to attend the same school.

Why… why me?

Until that night, she was just a colleague on the same floor. I can’t recall doing anything for her, and I can’t find any reason she’d be drawn to me.

If it were Tsumugi, I could understand it.

Her way of speaking is a little sharp, and she can be prickly and difficult. But she’d never walk past someone in trouble, and the way she laughs sometimes — like a child — that contrast must be exactly what draws people to her. And her face, above all, is simply good.

As for me — well.

I spend my days dodging every kind of human connection, living quietly in the shade. Moderately pleasant to deal with and nothing more; just another ordinary corporate drone.

I genuinely cannot see what there is to fall for.

My face… I wouldn’t know. Probably the kind that neither adds nor subtracts points from anyone’s assessment.

“Aaaaaargh!!”

I press my face into the pillow and let out a full-throated scream. The fact that just thinking about it makes my face go hot — pathetic.

If you’re going to pursue someone, there’s still such a thing as pacing, a give-and-take. The way she’s going about it is like a rollercoaster that hits top speed the instant it launches.

The sensation of fingers tangled in mine. That sound close against my ear. The sweetness of vanilla.

Another scream into the pillow. I’m done for today.

There’s no point thinking about it. No matter how many hours I spend turning it over, I won’t find the reason.

I just need to find the right moment and turn her down properly. That’s all.

That’s all it takes, isn’t it. So why have I been tying myself in knots over it. I was probably just thrown off by everything piling up at once and couldn’t think straight.

Last night was a surprise attack and I was exhausted on top of it. At lunch I was just flustered because she touched me out of nowhere.

I’m really touched by how you feel, but I’m afraid I can’t go out with you. I’m sorry.

If pretending it didn’t happen isn’t going to work, I’ll just let her down gently, as smoothly as I can manage.

I’m sorry, Seriha — but your colour would surely shine more brilliantly on someone else’s canvas.